HF - 01 - Caribee (18 page)

Then it was closing again, shu
tt
ing herself away behind the cool grey of her eyes. 'Ye've a mind to mock me, Master Edward.'

She was again staring at Sarah.

'No,' he said. 'Believe me, Susan.'

His hand started to move across the step, towards hers, and
then
slipped back again. Christ curse him for a coward, but he was afraid of her.

'Then ye're a fool,' she said. 'Or a dreamer. Ye know nothing of me. Ye've never touched my flesh.'

'A dreamer,' he said. 'Not a fool, Susan. Would the reality be so different to the dream?
’

Her head turned, so quickly she took him by surprise. 'There's the girl,' she mu
tt
ered.

'She'll not understand.' But he was incapable of movement.

Not Susan. She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the mouth. She all bu
t sucked the tongue from his th
roat. And here was no
Indian
smell. Here was fresh beauty. And breasts. His hands came up, to close on them, to feel the nipples right through the cloth, to feel the surging flesh beneath. Mama had breasts like these. Oh, Christ in Heaven.

Her hands were on his chest. 'God, I have wanted,' she whispered. 'And you. If it's my tits ye're after, Master Edward, they're yours. Just don'
t
mock me.'

'No,' he said.
‘I
'm sorry. I have wanted, you. Since you stepped ashore. I fell in love with you then, Susan.'

She tossed her head, straightened her shift. 'Every man on the Island did that. Even the savages.'

'And have you yielded to any of them?"

'Christ,' she mu
tt
ered. To that?'

'Listen,' He seized her hands. He could do that, now, and as they lay flaccid, his own rested on her lap. On her thighs, and everything that lay beneath the gown. So, was he about to lie? He could not tell. He knew now that he did not love Yarico, that he would never love Yarico. He knew now that he would dream of that day in his mother's bedroom until he died. But at least that dream now possessed red hair, rather than brown.
‘I
love you, Susan,' he said.
‘I
want you. But all of you. I want you to marry me.'

She was gazing at him, and he was no longer afraid of her eyes.
‘I
'm a bastard,' she said. 'My father was a big man. Oh, he was a big man. My mother was a whore. But she was his whore. Life was good, until your English came. They burned Daddy's castle. They hanged him. They laid Ma on her back until she died of exhaustion, and they went on laying her after that. I'm no virgin, Edward Warner. They got me too, but I didn'
t
die, so I was right for slavery.'

Ch
rist, how he hated. Them. Them.
Out there in the world. But thi
s world was no more
than
twenty miles long by ten wide, if that.

‘I
'm no virgin, either,' he said.

'Ye're sixteen.'

‘I'll be seventeen in a month. I'm a man grown. ‘I
ve had to be, Susan. I'll care for us. I'll build us a house, back there. I'll give you sons. And one day this colony will be mine.'

Now he was afraid again. There was a quality hi her eyes which seemed to say, liar, liar, liar, you want these tits an
d this belly. You want to own th
ese legs, because you have never seen legs to equal them. But she was wrong there. And if
a man could not possess his moth
er, well,
then
surely he could love this magnificent creature.

'Then ye'd best act the part,' she said, softly.

Footsteps, coming
through
the house. Edward hastily stood up, on one side of the step, and Susan followed his example, on the
other
. Rebecca came through first, Tom at her shoulder. 'Sarah.' She stooped and scooped the girl into her arms. 'You've been good?'

'Oh, yes, Mama. Edward was with me.'

'Mooning about the plantation on a Sunday afternoon?' Tom demanded. ' Tis not like you, boy. Where is Philip?
’

‘I
have no idea, Father.

'Susan?"

'He ... he wandered off.' Her cheeks were flushed and now she bit her hp. It was difficult to suppose anyone on this island opposing that bluffly domineering manner. But Edward reminded himself
that
he had seen his father just as nervous and uncertain as this girl.

'Careless,' Tom said. 'You'll do be
tt
er in future, Susan.'

'The boy is growing, Mr Warner,' she said, quietly.

He stopped in surprise, and glanced from her to his wife.

'Why, that's true enough,' Rebecca agreed. 'And the men are on the beach.'

'Aye,' Tom said. 'But you'll remember your place, girl. Now and always.'

Edward sucked breath into his nostrils, felt his heart pounding, and for the second time this afternoon cursed the heat in his cheeks. 'Not always, Father. I would like to speak with you.'

Now Tom was frowning, and looking from boy to girl. "You'll take Sarah inside, Rebecca.'

Her turn to hesitate. But she knew be
tt
er than to increase his simmering anger. She gave Edward a warning
glance, and closed the door beh
ind her.

'Yes?" Tom inquired.

‘I
would take a wife, sir,' Edward said. 'Susan.' Tom looked at the girl. 'Your doing?
’

There's no
other
man on the island I'd rather wed, Mr Warner. If that is what ye mean.'

'Slut,' he snapped, and swung the back of his hand. It caught her across the mouth and stretched her on the sand, legs kicking and skirt flying.

'Sir,' Edward said. 'You have no right.'

Susan sat up, straightened her skirt, and only then wiped
the trickle of blood from her li
ps.

'No right?' Tom shouted. 'She's that fortunate I do not take the skin from her arse. And you, by God, look at you, sixteen years old, and you'd take a wife, would you?
’

Edward refused to lower his gaze. 'You made me a man, sir, before I was twelve. You've a thriving colony now. Have you no wish for a grandson?
’

'By God,' Tom said. 'What have you been doing, then? Crawling around the Carib village hoping to thrust your weapon into some cannibal?' He continued without giving Edward the time to consider a reply. 'No. They'd not have you. They like men, not
boys. And she....' his arm out
flung. 'Do you think she cares a damn for you? She seeks to be free. Aye, she'd laugh in your face the moment the words were spoken. Get from my sight, boy. Mention this to me again and I'll flog you both round the camp, so help me God. Now take to the woods, and do not return before supper time.' He seized Susan by the hair as she would have risen. 'Not you, girl. You'll spend the rest of
this
day on your knees, here in this yard. And you'll pray that I forget this afternoon's work.'

The anger bubbled inside him, curling his fingers into fists, causing him to rip the branches from trees and slowly strip them to the bark. Once, even, he caught a lizard, and hurled it from him with all his strength, listening to its passage through the bushes with tumultuous glee. Anger, against whom? Father? Or self? He was a coward. There was a fact. He had crumpled like a leaf in the hand. What would she think of him now?

But he hated Father, too. For treating him as a child. Why, if he wished, he could take Father as he had taken that lizard, and ... if he wished. If he had the courage, to oppose not only Tom Warner, but the King's Lieutenant, Governor of the Caribee Isles. There was a dream.

And Susan. Desire clouded up his body, turned his legs to lead, left his brain a limp rag. Susan, all of that tall, straight white-skinned beauty, all of that proud face, all of the promise which had surged beneath the shift, all of that abundant fire-red hair, had been granted to him. For the space of a few short seconds.

It could be his, forever. To take that would be to reject all else. But what else was there worth having, where that was absent? Especially where all that would be there, all the time, perhaps, in time, belonging to someone else. In a very
little
time. Of course Father would now seek to force her into marriage with one of the colonists. Then would life truly become unbearable.

His decision was made. He was so happy he felt like bursting into song. And then grew serious again. A time for planning. But it all seemed very simple. Once the decision was made, it all fell into place.

He returned to the vill
age at dusk, as instructed, in t
ime for supper. They sat around the table as usual, Father at the head, Mama at the foot, Edward and Sarah on one side, Philip and Susan on the other. Father's bad temper had disappeared, as it usually did, and he was, again as usual, determined to make it up to all. He talked and joked. His conversation played around their heads like a sea breeze. Unsuccessfully. Mama was quiet, the children inquisitive. 'You looked so funny, kneeling in the yard, Sue,' Philip said. 'Why were you kneeling there all afternoon?'

Susan stared at her plate.

'She'd been kissing Edward,' Sarah said. 'Hadn'
t
you, Sue? Like
this
.' She pursed her lips and thrust them forward.

'Be quiet, child,' Mama snapped, and looked at Tom.

'Aye,' Fath
er said.
'Be quiet. You'll not bear a gru
dge, Susan.'

Susan's head raised, for the first time. There were tear stains on her cheeks.

'Say so, girl,'
Father
commanded.
‘I
'll not bear a grudge, Mr Warner
’

Edward tried to a
tt
ract her a
tt
ention by staring at her. But she would not look at him.

'Well, then,' Father said.
‘I
t's done.' He stood up. 'You'll join me in a leaf, Edward.'

There was condescension. They were all adults together, now, provided they stopped being adults whenever he so commanded. Edward's anger rose, kept his resolve at fever pitch. He retired early, to the hammock in the room he shared with Philip and Sarah. They were already abed, and soon asleep. But he had to wait for the others, to listen to every last creak. At last he fell asleep himself, to awaken with a start only a few minutes later. The house was still, the village quiet, the only sound the ever present soughing of the breeze through the trees, and the never ending rumble of the surf.

He lowered his feet from his hammock, slowly, cautiously, touched the floor, and stood up. He had deliberately undressed in his most careless fashion, left his breeches under the hammock. These he dragged on, but did not bother with shoes. He seldom wore them anyway, and he would not need them where he was going.

He picked up his sword and crossed the floor, listening to the snoring from Sarah's hammock. She seemed to breathe less than to wheeze, and she was six years old. Pity the man who married her, and spent the rest of his life listening to her gasp. Carefully he pulled the door open, watching the hammocks behind him, motionless in the gloom. He would never see them again. Did he care? They were strangers to him, milksops from a milksop society, their inadequacy revealed in the paleness of their skins. No, he would not miss them.

He stood in the li
tt
le hall, listening, and hearing nothing. Well, then, Mama? He would never see her again, either. But he was deliberately escaping, Mama. And with Susan at his side he would have no time to think of other women, other limbs, other breasts, other lips.

Susan slept in the front room, which meant that she was compelled to stow and rehang her hammock with each day and night. But at least here she was alone. Cautiously he crossed the room, anxious about a board which had creaked during dinner. But this time there was no sound. He stood by the hammock, his eyes accustomed to the darkness now, and looked down at her. Her hair drifted over the side, seemed almost to touch the floor. She was on her back, her face upturned.

He bent lower, and her whisper reached him.
‘I
f ye touch me, Master Edward, I shall scream.'

He knelt beside her. He was so close he could smell her; even her scent held endless promise. 'Listen. Will you come with me?'

Now at last she moved, to turn her body so that she could face him. 'Come
with
yer
’

'We shall leave this place. This island. I have thought it out. The Caribs keep no night watch, and their canoes are on the beach. We will take one, and paddle across to Nevis, It is only a few miles, and the
Indian
s say it is uninhabited. They will never find us.'