Given (10 page)

“We almost there yet, son?”

For perhaps the thousandth time that night, Jacob pulled his thoughts away from Mary Katherine and her reaction to him earlier. It was a difficult thing to do, almost as difficult as it had been for him not to chase after her when she'd run out. The only things that kept him from doing so were the thought that he'd be seeing her later and the fact that he'd needed to prepare for the run that he was now conducting. He focused on his passenger's question.

Even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it because it was dark as pitch in the woods, Jacob smiled down at the elderly woman at his side. Reassuringly, he patted the frail hand that gripped his arm. “Yes'm, we are. The house is just up ahead.”

“And we are 'spected?” This question came from the other woman, the older woman's daughter.

“Yes, ma'am.
I believe we are expected,” Jacob told her. In truth, he was praying that Dr. Quinn, a stationmaster in Ripley, had gotten the message. Since nothing had been planned ahead of time, it was very likely he hadn't.

“Again, I want to apologize for takin' you by surprise like this, but we saw our chance to escape, and we took it,” the elderly woman said.

“I understand, ma'am. Don't worry.” He was doing enough of that for all three of them. He'd made first contact to pick them up without incident, but he was still worried. In the underground, everything depended on precise planning, and this simply had not been planned. He feared it might be another trap, which was the main reason he'd been adamant about Grace's not going out. He looked up and saw Dr. Quinn's house up on the hill. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief, and that's when he heard it. Whispering.

He stopped and motioned for the women to do the same. He closed his eyes to better focus, and he heard more whispering. It was coming from the left of them, and there were two people, both male. Jacob didn't smell sulfur or brimstone, so that was good. He still had to be careful, though, and looking at the women, he motioned for them to hide behind a wide tree to his right. He'd planned to hide too, but it was too late; the men would be on him in a matter of seconds.

Wincing, he pulled the brim of his hat low over his face and stepped out in front of them so it wouldn't look like he'd been hiding. “How do, sirs?” he said in a crisp British accent, trying to keep his voice respectful. He could tell they were surprised to see him, and hoped that meant they weren't slave catchers. “How are you gentlemen doing this fine night?” The two couldn't have been any older than fifteen, but Jacob didn't relax. It was often the young men who felt they had the most to prove.

The two boys looked at each other. They'd already been confused by his boldness, but the British accent really threw them off. One of them recovered his wits quickly enough, though. “What are you doin' out here this late at night, nigger?”

The question was asked with a sneer, making Jacob stiffen. Again, he fought to keep his tone respectful. “Same as you, I expect—just taking in some lovely night air.”

“Is that so?”

Jacob nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Where're you from, nigger?”

Jacob had had enough. He weighed the situation, sensing that the two were more afraid of him than he was of them. They had no weapons. He took a chance. “Is that really something you need to know?” He took a step forward so that he was towering over them. “Sir?”

Now it was the boys' turn to stiffen. They did, but in fright. “Maybe you don't know this 'cause you're not from around here, but you're not supposed to talk to us like that—”

“What are you going to do about it? Either one of you puppies want to take me on?”

There was a sudden gasp from behind the tree, and Jacob closed his eyes in regret as both boys directed their attention that way. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, particularly not any children. He reached out and grabbed both boys by their necks. “You don't know me, and I don't know you. And you know what I think, mates?” He waited for them to shake their heads before continuing. “I think, as I'll be going back to jolly old England soon with me boss, it's a good idea that we all three forget that we ever saw each other. Otherwise…” He let his voice trail off meaningfully.

“Otherwise? Otherwise what?” one of the boys asked in panic.

“Otherwise, if I ever hear tell that either one of you has been telling tales about me, then what I'm about to do to you will seem like a game compared to what I
will
do to you.”

“What you're about to—” That was all one boy was able to say before Jacob knocked their heads together, dazing them both. And one after the other, he squeezed their windpipes until they both crumpled to the forest floor in a heap of arms and legs.

Jacob saw one of the ladies poke her head around the tree. He pressed his finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet, and motioning, silently told them to use the trees as coverage and join him. He turned and walked away. When he felt they were far enough away from the boys, he said, “All right, ladies. You can join me now.”

They both crept from behind a tree. They'd been keeping to the trees as they walked parallel to him. “Did you kill those boys?” the old woman asked.

Jacob smiled and put her hand in the crook of his elbow again. “No, ma'am. It was obvious to me that they'd missed their afternoon naps, and I simply made sure that they took them.”

“Don't you think they'll tell someone about you when they wake up?”

“I'm hoping they won't remember me at all. You see, sometimes that little trick I did on their necks can make memories a little fuzzy. And if they do remember me, the fake accent will throw them off. AlsoI'm hoping I scared them enough that they won't say anything about tonight, or barring that, that they're too ashamed to admit that they let a Negro get the best of them.”

The old woman made a skeptical sound. “Depending on
that much
hope can be a mighty dangerous thing.”

Jacob didn't answer, but privately, he agreed.

* * *

They arrived at Dr. Patrick Quinn's house without further incident. Jacob had the two women wait in the trees while he went up and rapped that night's signal on the veterinarian's door. He didn't have long to wait before the door was pulled open by a tall white man whose gray eyes always seemed to be looking at people impatiently.

Jacob grinned but said deferentially, in case the doctor had the wrong kind of company, “Good evening, Dr. Quinn. I just thought I'd drop by and see how those tables and chairs you ordered from my family are suiting you.”

“Ah, Jacob, it's good to see you,” Dr. Quinn said with genuine pleasure and flashed him a charming smile, the one that all the ladies (except for Grace) seemed to swoon over. Grace couldn't stand the man, calling him a Neanderthal because he refused to work with women on the underground, which to Jacob's way of thinking, made him a smart man indeed. “Bring them on in,” the doctor told Jacob as they shook hands. “I've prepared everything.”

Jacob gladly turned them over, all the while thinking about Mary Katherine and all the things he had to teach her about the consequences of licking her lips in front of a naked man. They could be all night.

* * *

Dressed in a white muslin nightgown, Mary Katherine sat at her small vanity table brushing out her hair. Totally ashamed of the behavior she'd displayed earlier that day, she could barely look at herself in the mirror. She definitely couldn't meet her own eyes. “You were a complete wanton, Mary Katherine,” she whispered to herself. The knock on her back door made her pause. This time she did catch her eyes in the mirror, and what she saw worried her. Pure anticipation.

The knock on the door had nothing to do with helping some poor soul and everything to do with helping herself. She knew immediately that it was Jacob, and she realized that some part of her had been expecting him. He was not the kind of man who would let her get away with what she'd done that day. He'd view her behavior as a promise.

Now he was there to collect.

Fingers pressed to her mouth, she rose from her chair in a classic pose of indecision. Should she let him in? She had no illusions. If she opened the door to him, they were going to make love. She knew she wanted to; that was not the problem. Her dilemma was whether it would be worth the risk.

Knocking sounded again, and breathless, Mary Katherine picked up the lantern and moved toward the stairs. She arrived at the door and, nervous and just a little afraid, froze.

“Mary Katherine. Open the door.” Jacob's voice flowed through the wood, soft and seductive, and she closed her eyes against its spell.

“Mary Katherine. Open the door.” His voice was even softer now, smoothly sliding across her skin like a physical caress. She shivered, and this time her eyes fell shut of their own volition, in the beginnings of surrender. His voice came again.

“Mary Katherine, baby, open the door.” The tone was beseeching yet commanding. Her entire being responded to both the desire and the strength. It swayed forward as if pulled by a string.

Mary Katherine opened the door.

Eyes narrowed, Jacob did nothing but stare for a moment. He hadn't been sure she'd do what he wanted, and by the time he'd raised his hand to knock the second time, he'd been almost desperate with want of her. The scene from his back porch kept replaying itself in his mind, and he was about ready to kick the door in. But then he'd sensed her standing there on the other side. He'd listened with bated breath for the sound of the door unlatching, and when he hadn't heard it, he'd almost cried out.

In the still of the night, he'd felt her nervousness and uncertainty, and he'd wanted to reassure her. But his need was like a raging beast upon him, and comfort had become an impossible promise to make. He'd known that if she let him inside with him in his present state, the last thing an innocent woman like Mary Katherine would feel from him was a sense of safety. So in the end, all he'd been able to articulate was his desire for her to open the door. And face drawn in tense lines of anticipation while the fingers of both his hands desperately gripped the frame of the door, he'd bent his head, and he'd whispered. He'd entreated.

She felt his eyes on her. They roamed every inch of her body as if he'd been born with the right to do it, and she stood still and let him get his fill. She waited for him to kiss her, to pull her against his body, to make his move, to do
something
. And when he did nothing, Mary Katherine whimpered in the back of her throat, his restraint making her already overwrought senses strain in desperation. Her body yearning for physical contact, she swayed blindly toward him, even as her free hand reached up to pull his head to her own. When his mouth met hers, the whimper became one of fulfillment as she kissed him, her mouth opening wide and taking over his as his had done to hers so many times before.

Slowly she plied his lips with her tongue, savoring the taste of him, despite every instinct that wanted to devour and rush to that implied promise of completion. “Jacob,” she whispered into his mouth. “Help me. I want, I want…” Her brow puckered in confusion as the words wouldn't come. “Please, Jacob,” she said, almost crying now. “I want
you
.”

Jacob took over the kiss then, his tongue greedily slipping into her mouth and trapping hers against the roof of her mouth. “I want you too, Sweet Kate,” he told her gently as he bent to lift her into his arms. Cradling her against his chest, he asked, “Where's the bedroom?”