Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) (56 page)

      
“That will not be necessary, Benjamin,” Bartolome Torres said. Young Cristobal and Violante had accompanied their parents to Santo Domingo, but the nineteen-year-old Bartolome insisted on remaining at the
hato
. He handed a missive to his elder brother, his green eyes dark and troubled. “Tis from the corsair. He would trade you Rani for Rigo!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

      
“You fool! The girl is a worthless
caraque
! Even if Benjamin Torres prizes her as his bed wench, what is that to me? I must kill Rigo Torres. The half-caste will care not a fig that his brother in France has lost a mistress.”

      
Elzoro glared at the smiling little corsair, who merely rubbed his shiny head, wiping away perspiration. “Calm yourself, Don Esteban,” Brienne said soothingly. “The girl is indeed beloved of Benjamin, and that means the younger whelp is following her to Española. He will be the catspaw to lure his elder brother into our trap. I have sent a note to the Torres
hato
, addressed to Benjamin. As soon as he arrives, he will come to us—if he is not already on his way.”

      
“You have taken much upon yourself, Luc.”

      
Brienne's face lost all traces of Gallic good humor. “Best I did, for you have sore displeased our Jewish overlord with your repeated bungling. How difficult can it be to kill one half-caste mercenary? Yet you have failed three times.”

      
“Just as your stupid assassin failed aboard that ship. The man has more lives than a damned cat. He is dangerous, Brienne, make no mistake about it. Aaron Torres and his accursed savages have over a hundred men under arms. They found my men in the caves to the west of here where we held the half-caste's wife. I was fortunate to escape with my life. This is the last underground stronghold we possess.”

      
“In all the years we have used this place, has anyone—Torres' Tainos included—ever found us here?”

      
The big planter looked down at the slim pirate, hostility gleaming in his pewter-colored eyes. “Torres' Tainos nearly skinned you and your shipmates at Navidad—you were a participant in that failure. They have been scouring the jungles for traces of my raiders. I am returning to my plantation, where I will keep my raiders hidden. “When you capture Benjamin Torres, send me word.”

      
Luc Brienne rose gracefully from the small stool on which he sat and strode across the dank, mossy floor of the cavern to where Rani lay, bound and gagged. “We know Benjamin will certainly come, will he not, Mademoiselle Janos?”

      
Her lustrous golden eyes glowed with venom as he knelt and touched her bruised, dirt-smeared cheek. She had tried to escape in the jungle, but the wiry little captain proved as swift as she. He had run her to ground, then had her trussed up like a game trophy, tied hand and foot to a cane pole and carried from the coast to this hellish underground labyrinth. Would she ever see the light of day again? Would she ever see Benjamin?

      
Just then Piero entered the large domed room in the bowels of the earth. Straightening up after slipping through the low opening to the cavern, he caught Brienne's mock tender caress of the girl and his eyes narrowed.

* * * *

      
“Brienne has Rani. The Tainos who spied out his ship in Navidad followed him to the place where she was taken underground. Now that we know where she is being held, we can rescue her. Caonu reports she is not heavily guarded since Brienne felt his hiding place secure.” Benjamin's face looked haggard and a thick stubble of dark gold beard covered his jaw.

      
“Be reasonable, Benjamin,” Miriam remonstrated. “I was held captive in one of those labyrinths. They are like the Roman catacombs, twisting and endless. You could get lost below ground and never return. You cannot go with only Caonu and his Tainos. Send for Rigo.”

      
“Vero can find Rani, even in the caves. Between Caonu's warriors and our Spaniards, we will deal with the corsair. You must go to Rigo and have him find out exactly what Elzoro is doing,” Benjamin instructed. “The planter has much political power. Tis an easy matter to kill a French pirate, but we must get this evidence about Elzoro to the
vierreina
in Santo Domingo.”

      
By the time Benjamin and Caonu had departed for their rendezvous with the corsair, Miriam had drawn near Guacanagari's village. Word of her arrival had preceded her and Guacanagari himself stood outside his large
bohio
to welcome her. She could see by his expression that he was troubled.

      
Swinging down from her small gray filly, she approached him with dread. “Guacanagari, I have come for my husband. Is he well?”

      
“My heart is troubled. I am glad that you are here. My nephew is grieving. He will speak of his pain to no one. He arrived here two nights ago, asking me to denounce his friend the Holy Man, and I did so. Then I had runners follow Fray Bartolome to Elzoro's compound to bring his message back. But Rigo has no interest in what has happened with this evil Elzoro.”

      
“Where is my husband?”

      
Guacanagari led her to a small
caneye
at the edge of his village. The jungle surrounded it on two sides. “Your husband is within. He has asked that no one come near him.”

      
“Thank you, Great Chief,” Miriam said simply, bowing to him. He turned and walked away, leaving her to face Rigo. She took a deep breath for courage and the lush fragrance of frangipani and leopard orchids filled her nostrils. This place was paradise, but only if Rigo loved her.

      
The interior of the hut was dark and smelled moldy and stale, quite unlike any dwelling inhabited by the fastidious Tainos. She blinked, allowing her eyes to accustom themselves to the dimness, then saw Rigo, stretched out on a raised pallet. He was awake but did not stand, merely raised up on one elbow and cocked his head at her, scowling.

      
“This place fair reeks of stale wine and your unwashed body,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she inspected his bloodshot eyes and beard-stubbled face. He looked surly and dangerous.

      
Rigo reached for a wineskin at the side of his bed and unfastened the stopper, then took a long pull before acknowledging her. “Well it should reek, for I have emptied two of these,” he patted the wineskin absently, then added, “or is it three?”

      
“You are drunk, Rigo.”

      
“If only I could
get
drunk. I crave the oblivion. Leave me, Miriam.” He turned his back to her and again drank deeply.

      
She flew across the earthen floor and knocked the wineskin from his hands. “You lie here wallowing in self-pity while your brother is gone to meet with Brienne in your place!”

      
He turned, swinging his long legs from the bed, and rose with a snarled oath. “And you, of course, would sacrifice me to save him.”

      
“He is your brother, Rigo!”

      
“And he is your lover!”

      
Miriam stepped back, thunderstruck at his black fury. “My lover? That is absurd! Will my betrothal to Benjamin ever hover like a ghost between us? Can you not see, now that he has returned, that I love him as you do—like a brother?”

      
“If my eyes did not play me false, lady, I witnessed a most tender scene between you and Benjamin, late at night, on the porch of our house. You held each other and you kissed him. Is that the stuff of sisterly love?” His voice was sneering yet ragged with pain.

      
Miriam blinked in amazement. “You saw me talking to Benjamin after the ball. I had come looking for you—you, my lord, who has chosen to absent yourself from my bed for these long months. I abased myself searching you out that night, just as I have done now...and tis all in vain.”

      
She turned from him and squeezed her eyes tightly closed to keep the hateful tears from overflowing. Clenching her hands into fists beneath her skirts, she whispered, “Benjamin loves Rani, the Gypsy girl he has pursued across the ocean-sea. He has forgiven us our betrayal of him, Rigo—and he admitted that I was right to break our betrothal. He and I could never love as husband and wife should—twould have been a terrible mismatch.” She turned when she felt his hand lightly touch her shoulder. “Has it also been a terrible mismatch for you and me?” Her eyes met his, trying desperately to read an answer.

      
Rigo scarcely dared to breathe, fighting the urge to crush her in his arms. His fingertips grazed her proudly uptilted chin. “At times it has seemed so, lady. I overreached when I cast my eyes on you.”

      
“Yet you did...and I returned the attention as you surely must recall. I have forsaken all for you, yet no matter what I do, it never seems enough.”

      
“I love you, Miriam. Is that enough?” He stood very still, almost as if expecting a blow to strike him.

      
He is afraid I do not love him!
The revelation flashed in her mind. “You are jealous of ghosts, Rigo, for I am not in love with Benjamin. I am in love with my husband. Yet tis you who planned to leave me, never I you. Even without our son, I would be bound to you.” She placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart pound.

      
He crushed her in an embrace, burying his scratchy black whiskers in the tender skin of her neck. “I could never leave you, Miriam. Once, long ago, I thought of it when I was uncertain of what lay ahead for me here with my family. They were Jews, rich
conversos
who could care for you even if I could not.” Suddenly he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “When did you first take the idea that I planned to leave you?”

      
“Aboard ship. I heard you ask the boatswain about Mexico.”

      
The raw anguish in her voice cut him like a lash. “Oh, Miriam, my lady, my love, we have been such fools. I was so afraid of what I had done to you. You were so sick carrying my child, crossing the ocean to an unknown future. I wanted only to protect you, to provide for you—not to leave you...never to leave you.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her head against his bare chest.

      
Miriam burrowed her face in the curling mat of his chest hair. “Oh, Rigo, I love you. Always I have loved you, from the first moment I saw you, I think, near death, lying in that bed in Uncle Isaac's house when Benjamin brought us together.”

      
He stiffened as the present crisis brought him back to reality. “Benjamin has gone after Brienne?”

      
“Caonu and his warriors are with him. Also your brother Bartolome, Rudolfo and some of the Spaniards from the
hato
. Caonu's spies followed the corsair from Navidad to some caves near our
hato.
” Quickly she told him all that had transpired in the two days he had been absent. When she explained about Aaron and Magdalena going to Santo Domingo, he swore at the ill timing.

      
“I will need Guacanagari's help. We must go to Elzoro's plantation and find a way to take the renegade—or kill him.”

      
“Be careful, Rigo. He is dangerous and set on killing you. I—I have not read all the ledgers and papers Fray Bartolome brought back, but—”

      
“I will return you safely to our compound while Guacanagari prepares his men here. You must keep that hard-won evidence—and yourself—safe.” He kissed her then, fiercely, possessively.

      
He tasted of stale wine and male musk, but she did not care. Miriam seized great handfuls of his night-dark hair and held his head down to hers, returning the fierce caress with joy, fear and sorrow all mingled together.

* * * *

      
“You hate me and wish me gone, do you not, Piero?” Rani took the crust of moldy bread and stuffed it in her mouth, then drank a swallow of brackish water. Brienne had untied her hands and removed her gag, ordering his
puto
to bring her food. He was playing some cruel game with them both. Now she hoped to turn it to her advantage.

      
“Soon you will be gone from my captain's life. You will be dead,” Piero said sneeringly.

      
‘Then why does he bother to feed me? And why did he not just kill me and feed me to the sharks back in the bay? No, he has plans for me after he has killed the Spaniard.”

      
“You are in league with the half-caste,” Piero said suspiciously, the cunning in his black eyes gleaming malevolently.

      
“I have never laid eyes on this wild Indian. What is he to me? Let him and your captain fight to the death. I care not. My love is in Marseilles. I want only to seek out Benjamin in France.” She held her breath as the jealous boy studied her and considered her words.

      
“Luc would be very angry with me if you escaped.”

      
She shrugged. “How would he know twas you? Only loosen my bonds. Soon the pig of a boatswain will return. If I pretend to still be tied, he will not think to check my wrists. I will wait until he swills some wine and goes to sleep to make my escape.”

      
“I still think Luc will kill you once your usefulness in luring the half-caste is over.”

      
“What if you are wrong? I have seen the way he looks at me...I am small, dark and sleek, just like you, Piero. And I am fresh flesh. Men do crave that, you know.” Her eyes were hard and calculating as she measured his response.

      
Piero pondered for a moment. Then, he retrieved a length of cord from the cave floor and slowly retied her hands behind her—but not quite so tightly. Using the tip of his dagger blade, he loosened slightly the knots in the rope binding her ankles.