Captive Innocence (33 page)

Royall sat still and listened, her eyes going to the gray's hooves. He was still standing quietly, his large soft brown eyes closed. Then she heard it again, the sound of a twig snapping. A shadow fell across her lap. The sun took that moment to come out in full force, blinding her momentarily as it drove through the broken windows. The shadow advanced. The closer the dark form came, the better Royall could see. It was the Baron, holding a revolver in his hand! Royall gasped in fright.

“You followed me!” she accused. “Why?”

“Yes, I did follow you here, and you know why. I can't let you destroy all that I've built up. I want that journal!”

“You'll have to take it from me,” Royall said bravely as she slid from the crate to stand next to the gray. She clutched the journal to her breast. This was Sebastian's life, and she would do anything to protect it.

“Then I'll have to take it. It's gone too far for me to back down now. For years I've searched for that journal. I've never felt safe, knowing it could be found at any time. Now, hand it to me before my fingers get nervous.”

“Only over my dead body. I'm not giving this up. Sebastian is the owner of this book. Your father wrote it for him. I'll never give it to you. Never!”

“Fine. I'll just wait till you're dead and then I'll take it from you.” He brought up the revolver and pointed it straight at Royall's heart.

Royall knew the Baron wasn't making idle threats; he meant to kill her. She raised her arm and threw the journal through the open window into the lush growth of jungle. The Baron, taken momentarily off guard, looked in the direction of the flying book.

Seeing her chance, Royall picked up the long stout stick that lay at her feet and swung out and up with all the force she could muster, knocking the revolver from his hand.

The Baron looked at her with such rage that his eyes seemed to burst from his head. His face contorted, his complexion changing from florid red to purple. He couldn't seem to get his breath as he crumbled to the floor.

Frightened at what she'd done, Royall raced for the door. God, had she killed him? Horror-stricken, she froze in her tracks, watching as he lay there, moaning. Cautiously, she inched back to the spot where he lay, holding the stick in both hands, ready to defend herself. He looked terrible, close to death. His left eye was closed shut, the other remained open, staring, spewing hatred, even now. The left side of his mouth was drawn into a ghoulish grimace as he stared at her. A stroke.

Royall brushed her hair back from her face. She had to do something, find someone, get help! Regardless of what he'd done, he was a human being, and she couldn't let him die this way. Elena. She had to bring Elena!

Only as she led the gray out of the ruined building did she remember the little red book. Only after she had it in her hand would she ride for the housekeeper.

Elena was dismounting from the roan as Royall brought the placid mare to what was originally the front of the Casa. “I was just going to get you. The Baron's inside. He tried to kill me, and I protected myself by knocking the revolver out of his hand. He was in a rage and then he just fell to the floor. I think he's had a stroke.”

“I know that he meant to do you harm, Senora. I followed him. The storm delayed me, as you can see. Wait here till I see to him.”

Elena returned moments later. “You're right, Senora, the Baron has suffered a stroke as his father did. Between the two of us we must get him on the horse and take him as far as the Rivera plantation. Senor Rivera will lend us a buckboard to transport him back to the Reino.”

“Elena, let me ride to the Rivera plantation. I don't think it's wise to make the Baron ride a horse. Neither one of us would be able to hold him steady. Sebastian won't like it, but he can hardly refuse. Please, Elena.”

Elena cautioned Royall to ride carefully.

“I'll be careful. Will you be all right?”

“There's no need for concern, Senora. The Baron can't hurt anyone anymore.”

Royall shuddered as she rode off in search of Sebastian Rivera. The gray streaked ahead, finally reaching the Regalo Verdad. Royall slid from his back and screeched at the top of her lungs for Sebastian. He came on the run, his face fearful, anticipating trouble.

She told him about the Baron, and Sebastian summoned his foreman. Together they rode from the plantation; the foreman and two men followed in the low buckboard.

Royall rode ahead. She couldn't look at Sebastian; she couldn't bear for him to see how hurt she was that he had ignored her since that last night in his house when they had loved each other. Why was it she only managed to see him when she needed help? And why did he always help her?

Royall dismounted and raced ahead to the old Casa, Sebastian following. Within minutes the men from the plantation arrived. They carried a thick, woolen blanket. It was obvious to Royall and to Elena that they didn't relish their task; they were merely doing as they were told. There was no compassion anywhere for the Baron. Sebastian's dark eyes were inscrutable as he watched the men place the Baron on the blanket. Each man picked up the two ends of the thick blanket and hefted their burden. Elena said she would ride with the Baron in the buckboard; her horse would trail behind. Royall was left standing in the dimness with Sebastian.

“I want to thank you for coming to help. Elena herself would have thanked you. You must realize that she has been under a terrible strain these past weeks.”

“No thanks are necessary,”. Sebastian said coolly.

“Perhaps not to you, but I feel it necessary,” Royall said crisply as she watched for some sign of emotion to cross the face of the man she loved. And she did love him. She had loved him from the moment she set eyes on him when he was a roué, a dashing buccaneer.

Sebastian looked at Royall and winced inwardly. Why was it she always came to him when she needed help? Would she never come to him on her own, for her own sake? For a time he had thought ... had hoped ... but it was not to be; he could see that now. He was the fool, and he fell in love with her. He let his dark eyes widen in shock at the revelation. He loved the golden girl. She made his blood run hot and then cold, and he wanted her for now, for tomorrow, for the next day, and for every day of his life.

Boldly, he matched her steady gaze. “Since there is no further need of my services, I'll escort you to the main trail, and you can follow the buckboard. If you ever find yourself in like circumstances, feel free to call. I don't charge for my help,” he said mockingly.

“Thank you, Senor Rivera,” Royall replied, matching his mocking tone. “However, I doubt if that time will ever come. I've decided to return to New England.” She felt physically ill with her announcement and suddenly regretted her words. She didn't want to return to New England. She wanted to remain here in Brazil ... even if only to catch a glimpse of his face from time to time. And to perhaps feel his arms around her at carnival once a year.

Hearing her words, Sebastian's world ended.

Royall groped in her saddlebag. “This belongs to you. I came across it this afternoon when I sought shelter from the storm. I read it. It was meant for your eyes, so I must apologize. At the time I didn't realize the nature of this journal. I almost died for this little book, Senor Rivera. The Baron would have killed me for it. Now it belongs to you. I give you back the life you never had, Senor Rivera. I hope it is some small comfort to you in the years ahead.”

Quickly she reined in, the gray and then spurred him to a full gallop. Rivers of tears rushed down her cheeks. Damn you, oh damn you, Sebastian Rivera. Damn you to hell!

Sebastian sat in his study reading the journal for what he thought was the hundredth time. Already he knew the words by heart. He wasn't a bastard. He was legitimate, a true son. His mother had married the elder Newsome. Carlyle was his brother, half brother. Sebastian Rivera, no, Newsome, was legitimate. He couldn't believe the words. They were true. It was in black and white. He closed the journal and placed it precisely in the center of his desk. His eyes were riveted on what Royall had called his life. Royall. She had said she had almost died for the journal. She said she wouldn't be troubling him again, that she was going back to New England. Goddamn it, just when his life was starting to take shape, she had to go and ruin it. Damn fool woman. Leave it up to a woman and you might as well lay down and die.

How cold and aloof she had looked sitting on the gray. How beautiful. Goddamn it, why couldn't she see how he loved her? Couldn't she tell? By God, he wouldn't get on his knees to any woman! Maybe she wanted him to plead with her to stay. I'll be damned if I do that either. Bitch! What did she want from him? Why was she torturing him like this? Angry at his circumstances, he slugged down a gulp of brandy. His eyes watering at the fiery liquid, he stood up and shook his leg. Damn fool thing to do, it was his throat that was burning not his leg.

He felt like a fool. Another gulp of liquor made him feel better. Royall Banner wasn't going to torment him much longer. Did she have any idea what a sacrifice it was for him to give up Aloni? Did she have any idea of what it cost him to send the China doll packing? A goddamn fortune, that's how much. By God, he should demand his money back from her lawyer. The thought amused him, and he threw back his head and roared with laughter. He should just show her the list Aloni had presented to him. Royall Banner with two L's would sing a different tune when she saw how much he had paid out. Perfume, powder, lip rouge, stockings, dresses for daytime, dresses for nighttime, shoes, unmentionables. By Christ, that was a laugh. Aloni didn't have an unmentionable to her name. Shoes, lots of shoes, the list had read. Jewels, jewels. A cape for the opera and a cape for day time and a cape to walk to market. By God, he had paid through the nose. And don't forget the goddamn spinet she demanded. The brandy bottle flew to his lips and he gurgled deeply. Well, he wasn't going to let her get away with it. Where was darling, beautiful Aloni now, he wondered pitifully. Probably in some garret starving to death, all because of Royall Banner. “My ass she's starving,” he thundered drunkenly when he suddenly remembered the cash deposit the tiny girl had demanded. And he had just handed it over, glad to be rid of the tiny creature who had shared his townhouse for two years. He had suffered greatly when Aloni pocketed the money and said in her best little girl voice, “It is my pension, Sebastian.” It was goddamn outright thievery, was what it was!

He was drunk. If anyone had a right to get falling down drunk, it was he. He laughed again, a deep, booming sound that brought his foreman on the run. His dark eyes took in the scene, and he smirked. The boss was drunk. Jesus couldn't wait to tell the others. Something good must have happened. It had been years since he had seen the boss so pie-eyed. It was good to see.

“Jesus, come in here. Fetch me another bottle of brandy and let's have a drink. I want to make a toast, and I want you to join me.” Jesus grinned as he uncorked the bottle. “No, no, a bottle for you and one for me. We won't bother with glasses, takes too long to drink that way.”

“What are we drinking to, Senor Rivera?”

“To the biggest damn fool in all of Brazil. Me!” he said triumphantly as he swallowed a hearty gulp of the fiery brandy. “You must have made this rotgut yourself, Jesus. It would take the hide off a water buffalo at fifty paces. Just the stink! The real stuff would kill him.”

Jesus choked on the brandy and it dribbled down his chin. He wiped at the brandy with his shirt sleeve. If he was going to get drunk with the boss, he'd better do it neatly.

“And to ... and to ...” Jesus waited patiently. “What was I saying?” Sebastian demanded. Jesus shrugged. “I remember, we want to toast womanhood. Those goddamn creatures who make our blood boil. Don't ever look at a woman, Jesus. They can kill you with their eyes. Do you want to hear a story? It's a sad story but I'm going to tell you anyway. Pay attention, because I don't want the same thing to happen to you.”

In between sips of brandy, Sebastian unburdened himself. “I tell you, there is no justice. Tell me the truth, Jesus. Do you think I'm a good man?”

Jesus leered drunkenly. “A very good man, Senor.”

“Well, as one man to another, do you think Senora Banner should pay me back for what Aloni cost me? I did it for her. Now she's going back to New England where they have to wear lots of clothes.”

“For you, Senor, is big problem,” Jesus said knowingly.

“I tried so hard,” Sebastian said pitifully. “I gave up everything. And what does she do, she's leaving!”

“You have big problem, Senor.”

Sebastian drunkenly agreed.

Sebastian nodded his head. Christ, that was his head bobbing on his shoulders, wasn't it. Jesus looked strange; he couldn't have three ears. “I know what I'm going to do, Jesus,” he said slurring his words. “Soon as it's light, I'm going to the padre and tell him to get my money back. Whatever he confiscates from the ... the ... two L's he can have half. Isn't that fair, Jesus?”

“More than fair. The padre will then know of all your wicked ways,” Jesus said toppling from the chair.

“He can pray for my soul. Father Juan loves to pray for all the souls,” Sebastian said virtuously. “Jesus, get up, we have to go to bed.” Loud snores ricocheted around Sebastian as he peered down at his foreman. “If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a man who can't hold his liquor,” Sebastian said in disgust.

 

Elena stared down at her patient. Slurred curses and epithets rumbled from his distorted mouth. Elena's facial features remained fixed, her gaze unblinking as she listened to his vicious tirade. How terrible he looked, how ugly with his drooping eye and pulled-down lips. He was a caricature of evil, she thought as she continued to hold his gaze. His words didn't matter now. He could say whatever he wanted and it would no longer affect her. The doctor Sebastian had sent had merely shook his head and cautioned her to be tolerant. He had left a sleeping draught for the bad moments, but that was as much as he could do. It would be dawn in another hour, the beginning of a new day, a new kind of life for the Baron. Would he adjust to his disability, or would he succumb to the inevitable? She shrugged one elegant shoulder and turned to leave the room.

“Skinny old crow, you make me ill with your black dresses and your hair in a roll on top of your head. Ugly witch,” he managed to sputter to her retreating back.

Elena turned abruptly, visibly shaken by the scathing words. The Baron was unrelenting. “Go down to the compound and send me some beautiful young women to grace this death room. You're old, a hag! Much too old for my tastes. But I can remember when you were young, so young and beautiful.” His good eye glittered with hate and malice in a way that always made her cringe with guilt and memories best forgotten.

“There is no one left to bring. Everyone is gone. Your mind has been affected with your stroke. I'm the only person that you will ever see until the day you die. Pray, Baron, that I do not go to my maker before he is ready for you.”

“Hag! Old crow! Ugly woman,” he rasped in a voice that lacked its previous timbre.

Elena swept down the hall with unseeing determination.

A few moments later Elena returned to the Baron's room, a startling transformation in her appearance. She was now attired in a low-slung skirt and short bolero, common to the native Indian. Time had been her friend rather than her enemy. Her slim torso was as graceful as a young girl's, and her unbound breasts were high and softly rounded beneath the light fabric of her bolero. She paused an instant before she opened the door. With an unhurried gesture she opened the door and took two steps into the lamp-lit room. In a throaty whisper she called the Baron by a name that was known only between the two of them.

The Baron turned as though in a dream. Was he dreaming? Elena stood in the half light of the room with a secret smile on her lips, inviting him, a slim arm raised in greeting.

To his eyes she was as beautiful as she had ever been in youth. Sweet honeyed skin that tempted a man's hand to graze the velvety surface. Supple, clean unhindered lines of her figure promised passionate supplication. She was a girl again and he ...

The Baron's eyes traveled beyond her to the mirror on his dressing stand. An old man, a crippled man, who would never enjoy the delights this vision of sensuousness was presenting, gazed back at him. And beneath the covers he felt a stirring, a stiffening he had thought he would never know again. The manly prowess he had considered lost, gone, regardless of what woman he was with, had returned for Elena. For the one woman who would never take pity on him.

Now he understood. At last the devious workings of Elena's hatred for him were clear. Now the tide had turned, and she would make him suffer the way he had made her suffer for the years of unrequited love. His anger moments ago had added additional fuel to her fire. There would be no forgiveness, no amount of begging would ever change things between the two of them. He understood.

Elena would remain at his side, the perfect servant, never more a friend or lover. And while she went about her duties, she would mete out the cruelest of punishments ever inflicted upon a man. She would taunt him with her loveliness, and while her attitude would be subservient, she would accept with a quiet smile all his vile words and inclinations. All the while joy would course through her blood. He would be hers. His loins would ache for the feel of her, and she would deny him. This was to be his punishment.

He read divine revenge in Elena's eyes.

Elena swayed closer to the bed, careful to stay out of the Baron's reach. She dropped gracefully to her knees, her long satiny hair spilling down her chest. She locked eyes with the Baron. “I was fearful that you wouldn't understand,” she said in a throaty whisper.

The Baron struggled for speech, and his face became contorted with the effort. “Why?”

Elena drew herself erect to her full height, a zealous light burning in her eyes. She stared at him for a long moment before she answered his question, and her reply rendered him senseless as he realized the full import of what she said.

“For Jamie.”

As the Baron gasped at her words, Elena glanced through the half-open drapes. Dawn. It was fitting that the past moments had come at such a perfect time. A smile played about her lips when she noticed Sebastian Rivera ride through the gates. Her smile widened, and a spark of pleasure ignited itself within her. The pleasure that leaped in her was for Royall Banner.

 

Royall woke feeling sweaty and clammy. It hadn't cooled at all during the long, unbearable night. Soon it would be dawn. Perhaps if she got up and sat on the balcony outside her room she might feel a slight breeze. Hastily, she drew on the scarlet dressing gown and slipped from the bed.

She sat quietly, watching as dawn crept over the jungle to advance on the Casa. Pearl gray shadows cobwebbed the garden as the brilliant blooms woke to life. The jungle itself came to life as birds awakened to another day. Would she ever get used to this place? Perhaps if she made up her mind to stay, she told herself. But that wasn't likely. The Casa now belonged to Sebastian Rivera, and there was no way she was going to live off his bounty. No, she would go back where she belonged and make a new life for herself. This then was nothing more than an interlude. A time where she had come of age, awakened to her full potential. She had arrived in Brazil a young girl and she would be leaving a woman. She had grown here in the jungles of Brazil, and she would always be thankful for that.

Suddenly, a thunderous shout split the air. Sebastian!

“There you are. I'm calling on you!” Sebastian shouted happily as he teetered on his horse.

Oh, God, not again. He was drunk. Quickly, Royall rose from the chair and raced through the house and out to the courtyard. “You're drunk!” she shouted.

“Of course I'm drunk, do you think I don't know that? I have a right to be drunk. I'm”—his mind searched for the right word—“legitimate. That's worth drinking to, Senora Royall Banner with two L's.”

“You're disgusting,” Royall snapped.

“That too,” Sebastian laughed. His eyes were crossing and he felt light-headed. Quickly he removed his hat and swept it in front of him with a wild flourish.

“Why are you wearing that silly hat?”

“The sun,” he answered haughtily.

“It's dawn, there's no sun.”

“Rain? Keeps my neck dry.”

“You oaf, the rain was yesterday. Get down off that horse before you fall off and hurt yourself. You look as though you need coffee and something to eat.”

“That's not what I need,” Sebastian leered at her from the horse.

“Well, that's what you're going to get,” Royall said, nervously checking the tiny jeweled buttons on her dressing gown, annoyed to find they were open from the hem to above her knees.

Sebastian swore in disgust as he slipped from the horse and grinned at Royall. “Why do you think I came here?”

“God only knows, but I wish you would get on that horse and go someplace else and torment someone else.”

“God knows and now Father Juan knows. You're the last, but that's all right because,” Sebastian enunciated clearly, “you are trespassing on my property.”

“Ha!” Royall snorted. “I should have known. At first light you came to claim what's yours. Fine, you can have it. I knew it, I just knew you would come here. You want my house and my body. Well, you aren't—”