Captive Innocence (28 page)

“I'm glad that she's well, but I can't comprehend what you've just told me concerning my father. Are you telling me, Sebastian, that he stayed in Manaus and left Royall and Elena to fend for themselves?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you. Now, I want you to tell me what you're going to do,” he said harshly.

“Give me time to get my thoughts together, Sebastian. I'm sorry that things have gone so sour for Reino. You were right, as usual. At the time I knew you were right, but the Baron is my father. I had to obey him or be cast out. The Reino is the only home I've ever known. Tell me about Alicia; have you seen or heard from her? She promised to write me in Belém but there wasn't one letter. Tell me, don't spare me, is she ill, has something happened to her? Please, Sebastian, I'm begging you.”

“Alicia is fine. She came to me a short while ago and is now staying at my townhouse. You can go to her in the morning. She's fine, Carl, believe me. Someone told her you planned to marry Senora Banner, and she believed him. She allowed herself to become . . . ill ... but she's fully recovered now and is waiting for you. Carl, don't make the same mistake again, for if you do, Alicia might not be so forgiving. You do recall that talk you and I had not too long ago. Where I offered you the job of managing my affairs in Rio. It would be perfect for you and Alicia. You like city life, and so does Alicia. You can put the plantation behind you and make a new life for yourself and your wife. I'll help you in any way I can.”

Carl was stunned. It was true, it would be a new life for him and Alicia. Thanks to Sebastian. He could do it; he had wanted to do it when they spoke weeks ago, but he'd been a coward. No more. Not after what he had just heard. Alicia was safe and sound, Sebastian had seen to it. The way he always saw to everything. “Sebastian, are we half brothers?”

Sebastian drew in his breath. “I don't know, Carl. Somehow, I don't think so. My mother wouldn't ... I just don't know, Carl. Is it important for you to know?”

“Only for my own sake. I wish it were true. I know how you feel about my father, but speaking for myself, I wish you were my brother.”

Sebastian's voice when he spoke was gruff, almost harsh. “I have no answer for you, Carl. Tell me, will you see your father before you leave?”

“Yes. I'll face him like the man I want to be. No more hiding. He won't like it, I know; but I won't run away like a naughty child.

“He has Jamie. He never understood me or my needs and wants. I owe him nothing. Not a thing. I know he was the one who told Alicia I was going to marry Royall. It wasn't definite; I never gave my word, and besides, he refused to believe that Royall would have a say in who she marries. You'll have to stop him, Sebastian, for when he finds out I've gone off with Alicia, he'll force Royall into a marriage that can't ever be allowed to take place. You know as well as I do that he can be quite cruel when his plans are thwarted. You'll have to handle it. Don't let Royall marry him. She loves you!”

Sebastian's heart leaped, but he said nothing. Carl was overwrought. Royall didn't love him, couldn't love him. Or could she? He grimaced when he remembered the way she had sailed out of the dining room hours ago. How could she know that it was impossible for him to sit across from her at dinner and not let her see what was in his eyes? Better to stay away and let her think he was an ill-mannered clod. Goddamn it, why did he always have all the worries of the world on his shoulders? Women were always at the root of all his problems.

“More brandy?”

“Not for me, thanks. Do you think you could bed me down for the night? I'll need a fresh horse in the morning.” Sebastian nodded. They shook hands, Carl going toward a room at the end of the hall and Sebastian to his room only a door away from Royall's quarters.

Sometimes it paid to be magnanimous, like now. There were more ways than one to skin a cat. With him helping Carl and Alicia, the Baron would lose his first layer of fur. You could only hold hatred in your heart for so long before it ate away at you, making you diseased and corrupt. He had no intention of letting that happen to him. The day the Baron got his due would be Sebastian's first day of freedom.

Sebastian stood in the hall, his eyes narrowed to slits. It was his house. She was in a room in his house. He could open the door if he pleased. In fact, he could kick it down and not have to answer to anyone. Instead of thinking about it, I should do it, he muttered to himself. Why not? Who did he have to answer to, save himself. No one. On the other hand, he could knock discreetly, say something inane, like he wished her a safe trip back to the Reino. But she would know it for the lie it was. Brute force. He would knock down the door and crush her in his arms. While she squirmed and fought, he would smother her with kisses and make love to her like he had done that night in Rio. He wanted to knock on the door so badly his hand itched. Some alien thing hammered in his chest, demanding release. That time in the kitchen in Manaus. His pulses pounded. Christ, what was he doing to himself? The girl had been ill. Though she didn't look ill when she sailed out of the dining room, after coolly dismissing him from her presence. Damn it to hell, she had really dismissed him as though he were some errant schoolboy, in his own house. Gall! She had more than any three women, ten women, a dozen, he told himself as he brought up his hand to knock on the door. She was a bitch too, always speaking her mind and making him a fool. After she left his house he might never see her again. What if she decided to go back to America, and then where would he be? Should he knock or kick the door down? Damnation, where in the hell was Rosalie Quince sleeping? For the life of him he couldn't remember. He shrugged. There were no locks on the doors in his house. All he had to do was open the door and walk in. Take her in his arms and do what he had been wanting to do for weeks. Make love to her till she cried in agony. He snorted. Senora Royall Banner with two L's never gave quarter in the bedroom. She gave as good as she got and was still as frisky as a kitten when he lay exhausted. Agony, my ass, he cursed as he opened the door. If she let out one peel, he'd gag her. This was his house and he could damn well do as he pleased!

Quietly, he closed the door. He listened for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. She was asleep, he could tell by the deep, even breathing beneath the light coverlet. Slowly, he advanced to the edge of the bed. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How he wanted her, needed her. But not this way, not by force. He turned to leave as quietly as he had come.

“You're late. I expected you an hour ago.” A deep gurgle of laughter played around the quiet room.

“Bitch!” Sebastian laughed in delight.

“Bastard! I thought you would never get here,” Royall said tossing back the coverlet. “Come here, I want to feel you next to me.”

Shortly before dawn Carl woke. It couldn't end like this. If he was going to start a new life, then he would start it off right. A visit and a talk with his father to explain things. Time enough for the beginning of a new life after that.

Quietly, he stole down the steps, sprinted down the long dim corridor that would take him to the kitchens and from there outdoors to the courtyard and the stables. Sebastian had said he could have the pick of any horse in the stable. The sorrel looked fleet of foot. Within minutes he had her saddled. A fast, hard ride in the early dawn would remedy his pent-up emotions. Soon he would see Alicia, feel her in his arms. She would be surprised at his news, but he knew that she would welcome the chance to leave Manaus and Reino Brazilia behind. Christ, he was lucky, more lucky than any one man deserved. Thanks to Sebastian. Sebastian was a man to be counted on when the chips were down. One way or another, he always came through on top.

The sorrel sprinted over the ground as though she knew exactly where she was going and why. Once Carl dismounted and allowed the animal to drink thirstily from a stream. Another hour and he would be in Manaus. Another hour and he would be face to face with his father—and after that, the first day of his new life. He could do it, Sebastian had faith in him. Alicia would stand beside him no matter what. With two people in his corner who believed in him, how could he go wrong? It was time to stand up and act like the man he was. The man Sebastian and Alicia believed him to be. He could do it. He
would
do it.

It was early, Carl thought as he walked through the cool townhouse. Father must still be sleeping, he mused as he climbed the circular staircase leading to the bedroom. He, Carl, was in fine fettle, prepared to do and say whatever was necessary to start his new life.

Carl stood a moment next to the bed. There was nothing vulnerable about the Baron. His features were chiseled, sharp, canny, even in sleep. “Father, I would like to speak with you,” Carl said loudly.

“Carl! What brings you here at this ungodly hour? Did you finish all of our business in Belém? I thought I told you to stay there till I sent for you.”

“Yes, father, it is I, Carl. This ungodly hour, as you call it, is now mid-morning. The business in Belém is finished. You lied to me, tricked me, the office manager could have done what you sent me to do. And as for my staying there till you sent for me—No. No more. I'm through being the puppet you dangle from a string. I've been to the Reino, and I want you to know that as a man, as a human being, I can never forgive you for what you've done. I spent the night at Regalo Verdad because I couldn't stand to stay in your house for even one more night. I'm leaving here. I'm leaving you, father. I'm going to marry Alicia as I told you. Sebastian offered me a position managing his affairs in Rio, and I've accepted. I just came to say good-bye.” He did it, it was over now. Now he was free. Free to go to Alicia.

The Baron stared at his son as though he suddenly sprouted an extra head. All he heard was Alicia's name. An inferno of rage shot through him. “You fool,” he shouted. “I say you are not going to marry that . . . slut. Haven't you heard the rumors that have been going around town? Never! I forbid it! Do you hear me?”

“Shut up! I won't hear it,” Carl shouted in return. God, what was his father saying? He was lying! “Damn you, father, you can't get to me any more. You listen to me. One more word against Alicia, and you're dead to me.” Angrily, he turned on his heel to leave.

“You're dismissed when I say you are and not before. You think I'm lying, well, you come with me, you young fool, and I'll prove to you what I'm saying. Your darling, pure Alicia was my mistress all the while you were in Belém. She lived here in this very house. When she found she couldn't have you, she turned to me. For a price she did whatever I wanted, and sometimes she did a little extra, if you know what I mean. She's an accomplished bedroom artisan. I was led to believe there were others in my absence. However, that's neither here nor there. She also tips the bottle quite heavily. At times she was so sotted, she made my stomach turn over. You still don't believe me. I'm going to take you down to the kitchens so you can ask the housekeeper what the name of the young slut was who stayed here in your absence.”

Naked horror disfigured Carl's face. It couldn't be true. Yet, his father sounded so ... he was lying! Alicia would never . . . not with his father . . . there had to be a reason if what he said was true. “I wouldn't believe you if God Almighty Himself was standing behind your shoulder,” Carl spat. “As far as I'm concerned, I won't degrade myself or Alicia by talking to anyone. From this moment on, you're dead to me. I no longer have a father.”

Trembling with anger, Carl stalked from the room. Once outside, the heat almost choked the life from his body. He needed a drink, time to get his thoughts in order. He had to get control of himself before he saw Alicia.

In a small sidewalk cafe he ordered a double brandy and a cup of strong black coffee. He sat for over an hour, his mind racing. He was his own man now, and it was time to pull up his straps and act accordingly. Even if what the Baron said was true, there was nothing he could do about it. There was no point in blaming anyone except possibly himself. Sebastian would have warned him, helped him if he thought there was something he couldn't handle. Alicia had gone to Sebastian. Sebastian had helped her, that was all he needed to know. His love for her hadn't changed. It was just as good, just as pure as it was the day he went on his fool's errand to Belém on his father's business.

In the end, with the brandy glass empty and one swallow of coffee left in the cup, Carl made his decision. He loved Alicia, had always loved her, and would love her till the day he died. They shared a love that was pure in heart. Whatever did or didn't happen wasn't important. His decision made, he felt almost light-headed with relief. All he wanted was to be with Alicia, to feel her warmth and softness in his arms. Alicia was all that mattered. And if the day ever came when the Baron's words creeped into his brain, he would drive them out by thinking of their love.

 

Alicia herself opened the door, thinking it was Sebastian with news of Carl. She swooned at the sight of Carl's beloved face. “Carl, I thought I would never see you again. Come in, come in.” Please, please let him say the right words, Alicia prayed silently.

“I'm sorry I've been away so long, Alicia, but I'm back now and I have wonderful news. Let me look at you.” His voice was husky, almost choked with emotion as he stared deeply into her eyes. He read love and compassion and a deep, hungering yearning in her steady gaze. He gathered her tenderly in his arms.

“Carl, I've missed you so. I thought you were never coming back. I didn't know what to do; I thought you had really stopped caring for me and were going to marry Mrs. Banner.”

Carl stroked the soft head cradled against his chest. “Never!” he said vehemently. “It's you I love. Duty, Alicia, and my father clouded my thinking for a while, but I'm free of that now. I told you I had wonderful news and I want to share it with you. Listen to me carefully: Sebastian Rivera has offered me a job managing his affairs in Rio. I've accepted. I've just been to see my father and told him. He didn't like it, but there isn't too much he can do about it. I know that you're the only important thing in my life. You're the only one who matters. Say you'll marry me and come with me to Rio. We'll start a new life, just you and me together.”

Alicia's heart fluttered madly. Carl had just been to see the Baron! Surely, he didn't . . . he wouldn't ... not to his own son. Carl wouldn't be standing here asking her to marry him if the Baron had told him. She was safe; she didn't have to confess. Royall Banner was right; she couldn't burden Carl with her ugly secret. Not for anything in the world would she say or do anything to wipe away the happiness on Carl's face. Both of them would survive with their love; it was strong and pure. With Carl's love she would soon forget the ugly memories.

Somehow, some way, she would find a way in the years to come to thank Sebastian and Royall for giving her back her love, her life!

 

The days crawled by for Royall. She admitted she was bored and a little afraid of what the coming days might bring. Jamie seemed to be avoiding her, and that was odd. Since her return from the Rivera plantation he hadn't once asked her to play the spinet. Elena was still cool and polite, going about her duties, but there was a noticeable lack of spring to her step, and from time to time Royall was sure she saw her shoulders slump. Carl's absence was barely noticeable, since he was always out on the plantation doing something or other to keep busy. But that wasn't what really bothered her. It was Sebastian and the way he was ignoring her. If it hadn't been for Rosalie Quince stopping by on her way home from a neighboring plantation, she wouldn't have known if Sebastian was alive or dead. Very much alive, and in a continual black rage, according to the loquacious lady. As if she really cared what he did or didn't do. One minute he acted as though he loved her, and the next he could pretend she didn't exist.

What I should really do is pack up and go back to New England, she told herself morosely. At least people back home were predictable. The Baron could have this stinking, rotting plantation and all that went with it. So far, it had been nothing but a source of grief. But if what Mrs. Quince said was true, she couldn't do that either. The garrulous lady had said there was a rumor buzzing around Manaus that the Baron was in a constant drunken state and making a fool of himself. And she had said, her eyebrows raised heavenward, that he'd been unshaven and slovenly for the good Lord only knew how long. Then she had blessed herself repeatedly at the actions of the Baron and the awful rumors.

Why hadn't Sebastian made some comment, come to see her after that last wonderful evening they had shared? Was it just an affair to him? Was it possible that she really didn't mean anything to him? If that was true, how could she possibly stay here and be available at his whim. She couldn't, she decided firmly. Next week she would visit Victor Morrison and make arrangements to go back to New England. Her decision didn't make her feel any better; in fact, she felt worse. Damn, she wasn't going to cry. Sebastian Rivera was the last man on earth she would cry for. When something was over, it was over, finished, never to be resurrected again.

She should be doing something instead of sitting here like some ninny, she thought irritably. She should have forged ahead with the lessons for the little girls, but Bridget's death had dampened their spirits. They spent long hours quietly going about their chores, their lightheartedness a thing of the past. It would have been impossible to get them to concentrate on something so mundane as letters and numbers. She missed their happy laughter and wished they would play and giggle again. Time, they needed time. Someone else would have to teach them when she went back to New England. Perhaps if she spoke to Elena or to Mrs. Quince, they would help. Even Sebastian's housekeeper . . . No, that wouldn't work. The children should be returned, and she would see to it! Letters and numbers could wait. Sebastian would see to their education once they were on Regalo Verdad. Sebastian. Dear God, how shall I get through the next months without the sight of him. Perhaps she should stay. Seeing him once in a while would be better than never seeing him at all. She could grow old sitting in the wicker rocking chair on the veranda, waiting for him to ride by.

 

Days later—or was it weeks, Royall could no longer keep track of time—she decided to give up her seat on the cool veranda and stroll through the gardens. Anything was better than just sitting. The heat, while all-consuming, was better than taking root in the old wicker chairs. She watched the colorful birds as they flew overhead, and she listened to their shrill, raucous cries. She continued to watch as they swooped low as though in a convoy and nestled into the lush green foliage. Something bright caught her eye as she rounded the drive. It must be the children. Perhaps they had come out of their lethargy and were playing. Please let it be so, she murmured to herself. But she had heard Elena giving them their morning instructions. Right now they should be cleaning the bedrooms. Royall frowned. It wasn't like the little girls to be openly defiant. They couldn't have finished so quickly. Perhaps they too sensed Elena's lack of enthusiasm. Cautiously, she crept up behind the tall bush that shielded the vibrant color she had noticed.

She blinked; Jamie was tossing a ball and Nessie obediently catching it. Rosy stood on the side, her face solemn and watchful. Jamie was laughing and smiling. Royall's eyes narrowed. The two little girls looked ... afraid. Suddenly, Jamie shouted angrily and grabbed Nessie by the arm. “I thought you liked to play ball. If you like to play ball, then play. You're acting just like one of my soldiers, stupid and wooden.” He growled as he brought Nessie closer to him and ignored her efforts to free herself.

Royall was suddenly afraid for the little girls. She didn't like what she was seeing. Jamie was acting strangely. It wasn't her imagination; the little girls didn't like the change in his behavior either. Frightened, she stepped into the clearing. “Girls, girls, Elena has been calling you. Run along now, quickly, before Elena gets angry. Jamie, what are you doing out here taking the children away from their duties?” She watched as the children ran away. There was no conspiratorial wink in her direction. Her intuition had been right; they were frightened out of their wits. She sighed with relief as she stared at Jamie. He was angrily rubbing his fingers nervously together. Apprehensively, Royall watched him out of the corner of her eye as she started from the small clearing. Jamie trailed behind, his tantrum strangely abandoned.