Savannah Heat (14 page)

“Good-bye, Salena.” He gave her a slightly mocking bow, his green eyes glinting.

“Good-bye, Major Trask.” Silver met his hard look squarely, her expression equally dark. Then her delicate features softened. Deep brown eyes moved over his face, searching past his anger, seeing something more, yet he knew not what it was.

For a moment she just stood there. Then she turned and walked away. Head held high, she crossed the foyer, lifted her faded brown skirt up out of the way, and climbed the spiral staircase. At the top of the landing, she opened the door to her room, stepped inside, and closed it soundlessly behind her.

Morgan cursed again as Sheridan Knowles approached, walking in his direction with a smile. He handed Morgan a fat leather pouch, heavy with shiny gold coins.

“It’s all there, Major. Two thousand dollars. You’re sure you won’t accept some sort of reimbursement yourself?”

Morgan tucked the pouch away. “I owe William a great deal. Returning his daughter is the least I can do.”

Knowles extended a fine-boned hand, and Morgan shook it. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Major.” He nodded toward the butler who had returned to open the door. “I wish you godspeed on your voyage.”

“Thank you.” Morgan stepped out on the porch.

“Thadeus will drive you down to the harbor.”

Morgan nodded. With a last glance back at the house, he turned and walked away.

Silver moved to the window facing the rear of the mansion and stared through the heavy iron scrollwork that barred much of the view—as well as any plans she might have of leaving. In the yard below, workers toiled in the bright afternoon sunshine, and farther off, the banana groves waved in the gentle spring breeze. Beyond the island in the distance, turquoise water beckoned, marking the path the
Savannah
would be sailing on its journey to Barbados, the path that might have carried her to freedom.

An ache rose in Silver’s throat. The major would return, all right—of that she had no doubt—but what difference would it make? His arrival would be months from now. Months of living with her father, who would surely soon be home. Months of enforced closeness, months of avoiding his advances, the evil she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Every night for years she had fallen asleep listening for his footfalls, praying this would not be the night he chose to come to her room. That had happened only once, but she would never forget it.

She could still remember the smell of rum on his breath, the heat of his sweaty hands on her body, the way he held her down and tore away her soft cotton nightgown. She was only thirteen, but her innocence had not stopped him. He wanted her, would have taken her if one of the servants hadn’t heard her terrified screams and come running into the room.

The beautiful black woman, Delia, her father’s reluctant mistress, ignored the danger to herself and interceded, shaming William into leaving Silver alone. The next day, beaten and bruised, Delia was
returned to the fields, and the ’others knew better than to interfere.

Since then William had continued to take his pleasure with the dark-skinned women he owned, but it was Salena he wanted, Salena he would one day violate, no matter how hard she fought him.

He had come close several times since then, had stalked her the very night she had finally run away. Only the knife she had stolen from the kitchen had deterred him. And then only for a while. He would have beaten her in the morning, for whatever crimes he might invent.

Instead she had escaped to the ship anchored just outside the harbor, repaired at last and ready to sail. Thank God for the
Lawrence
’s near disaster, the broken rudder that had forced her to their shores. If the ship hadn’t come, Silver would have been at her father’s mercy.

She felt the sting of tears. She was back where she had started, worse maybe, for this time his anger would know no bounds. That he would beat her she had no doubt. But a beating she could stand. It was the other that she was afraid of. The other unspeakable crime that she feared.

The wetness blurred her vision, and Silver stifled a cry in her throat. She knew without doubt that the next time William came for her, he would succeed.

Or she would have to kill him.

Silver felt the wetness on her cheeks and didn’t bother to wipe it away.
What kind of woman are you
? Morgan had said. What kind indeed? What kind of woman aroused lust in her own father? What kind would murder the man whose very loins had brought her into this world?

Silver stood staring out at the water, watching,
waiting, looking for the sails of the
Savannah
and a last glimpse of the ship that had been her only hope.

What would Morgan think of her if he knew? What would he think of her father? Why in God’s name did it matter so much?

Morgan rode in silence all the way to the harbor. Just ahead, he could see the shore boat beached on the smooth black sand, Flagg and Gordon standing nearby. Sea gulls circled overhead, and the
Savannah
bobbed at the end of her anchor in the brilliant turquoise water. The journey he’d looked forward to at last could begin.

The wagon rumbled along, the mules moving faster downhill, but the slim black driver didn’t speak. In the fields Morgan spotted the flat-faced woman who had spoken to Silver.

Silver. Salena. The name conjured memories of a fiery-tempered woman he longed to forget. He was finished with her. He had returned her safe and sound. When his voyage was complete, he would come back and talk to William, make sure she was all right. It was no more than he’d do for Jordy or Cookie or Jacques.

In the meantime, he had his mission to think of, his brother, the weapons the Texians would be needing in the Yucatán. He was a major in the Texas Marines. He had duties, responsibilities. The last thing he needed to worry about was an untutored, unsophisticated, willful bit of baggage like Silver Jones.

He was glad she’d made him angry, glad she’d slapped his face. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her.
Wouldn’t
, he assured himself. Silver hardly deserved his pity. Wouldn’t accept it if he offered.

He fingered the mark on his cheek, still tingling where she had hit him. Damn her, she would dare
anything. No wonder William couldn’t handle her. What man could? On top of that she was a liar. The things she said about her father couldn’t possibly be true. William was an honorable man. Silver was wild and reckless and spoiled. She was willful; she was stubborn—

Morgan’s jaw clamped as a voice from inside spoke the words he fought to ignore: Silver was beautiful and intelligent and courageous. She was alone and afraid, and she just might need his help.

“Christ,” he swore, clenching his fist almost as hard as he ground his teeth. “Turn this damned thing around. We’re going back.”

“But I t’ought you—”

“I said, turn it around. And be quick about it before I change my mind.”

For the first time since he’d met the black youth, Thadeus grinned. “Yes,
suh
, Massa Trask.” He pulled on the reins, clucked, and sawed until the animals complied and they were heading back up the hill.

“Wait here,” Morgan commanded when they reached the circular drive in front of the house. “I’ll be right back.” Morgan jumped down, stalked across the grounds and up the veranda steps. The door swung wide even before he reached it.

“She still upstairs?” he asked the butler.

“Yes, suh.”

Morgan stalked past the little man into the house. Sheridan Knowles heard his boots ringing on the hardwood floors and came running.

“What’s going on, Major?” he asked with a worried scowl.

“I’ve changed my mind.” He started up the stairs, but Knowles’s hand on his arm stopped him on the first rung.

“I’m afraid you can’t go up there, Major. I don’t think William would approve.”

“He can tell me that in person when I get back.” He jerked his arm free and continued up the sweeping staircase, past the astonished upstairs maid, who stared at him with wide black eyes, and on down the hall.

“I must insist you stop this at once,” Knowles shouted up at him.

Morgan ignored him, just strode down the corridor and jerked open Silver’s door without even bothering to knock. At his unorthodox entrance she spun to face him, the expression on her face one of sheer astonishment.

“Get your things,” he commanded. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

Beyond her he spotted the bars that encased her window, realized she had been looking through them for a final glimpse of the ship. It was a last good-bye, he saw, and something moved inside his chest. Silver’s face was wet with tears, her expression desolate, and her cheeks so pale they appeared translucent.

“I said get your things.” Emotion roughened his voice. He strode to the huge rosewood armoire that dominated the frilly, white lace bedroom, and threw open the door. The chest was crammed with beautiful silk gowns, velvet slippers, and expensive satin-lined cloaks. There was muslin for morning, lace for tea, organdy for evening, ornate bonnets, embroidered parasols, and hand-painted fans.

“Take some of this stuff with you. I’m tired of seeing you in rags. I’ll send someone up to fetch your trunk.”

“All right,” she said softly, and her heart felt near
bursting. Morgan had come back for her. He had come back! The ache in her throat grew so painful Silver had to turn away.

“I’ll be waiting downstairs.” With that he strode from the room.

If she hadn’t been afraid he might change his mind, she would have sagged down on the bed just to collect herself. She could hardly believe this was happening. Instead she dashed around the room, pulling out her trunk, filling it to overflowing with the gowns she had, until now, dreaded to wear.

But it wouldn’t be her father’s eyes on her bare shoulders, the rounded curve of her breasts. It would be Morgan’s. At last he would see her as a proper lady. She would show him she could be as genteel as the women he found so attractive.

Well,
almost
as genteel.

Hurriedly she laid away her crinolines, embroidered nightgowns, and lacy underthings. How long had it been since she’d worn anything so feminine? She put in her silver-backed hairbrush, comb, and mirror and tossed in a crystal vial of perfume. Downstairs she could hear Morgan’s deep voice laced with anger, raised against that of Sheridan Knowles.

A tiny smile crossed her lips. She had no doubt who would win.

Finished at last, she raced to the door and swung it open, then hurried to the top of the stairs. “I’m ready, Major.”

Thadeus stood beside him. Together with Ned, the butler, they climbed the stairs to fetch her trunk. Silver descended almost shyly.

“I forbid this, Salena. Your father will be furious. It wasn’t bad enough you traveled unchaperoned
with this man halfway across the ocean, now you’re leaving with him.”

“Tell William I’ll take good care of her. She’ll be back on my return.”

“You’re asking for trouble. Major. The earl is a man of some authority. He won’t sit back and take this lightly.”

“William trusted me once. He’ll have to do it again.”

With that he grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door. The hands that hoisted her into the wagon were hardly gentle, but Silver didn’t care. She was leaving the island, escaping at last. Better than that, the man who had rescued her was Morgan Trask.

Morgan joined her on the hard wooden seat while Ned and Thadeus loaded her trunk. Morgan turned her face with a stout grip on her chin.

“I want your word, Silver. I want you to swear on your mother’s grave that you will not try to escape. It’s the only way you’re going with me.”

“You would accept my word?”

“Can’t you understand—I’m trying to help you?”

She looked at him, and against her will fresh tears gathered in her eyes. It wasn’t like her, all these tears, yet she could not stop them. “You won’t be sorry,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you say, and I won’t try to run.”

He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingers. “I’m going a damned long ways out of my way for you. Don’t make me regret it.”

She shook her head, moving the heavy mass of her silver hair. She felt safe as she never had before. Safe and protected—and something else she could not name.

Morgan turned away from her and raked a hand through his wavy dark blond hair. God, he must be
crazy. Then he recalled the way she had looked at him when he’d burst into her room. As if he were some kind of knight in shining armor. It made his heart turn over. He had wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, take away the awful pain he had seen in her eyes.

What was her secret? he thought, and wondered if he would ever know. One thing was sure. He had set himself up for more sleepless nights, more tossing and turning, and visions of her luscious body.

I must be mad
, he thought. But in truth Morgan knew that no matter the misery ahead, he wouldn’t send her back there alone for all the peace and quiet in the world.

“I know this isn’t the time to ask a favor,” Silver said as the wagon rumbled along, “but I was wondering if we might make one quick stop before we leave.”