AB (5 page)

black thought to sully the memory of their heated encounter. She quashed the feeble

sentiment outright. She had asked him for one night of freedom. And he had offered it to

her. It was unfair of her to expect him to give her more, however much she ached for it.

He stepped beside her, a towering shadow, and brushed her cheek with the pad of his

thumb. “Good-bye, Sophia.”

He stepped away from her and slowly merged with the darkness.

She fingered her flushed cheek as she listened to his heavy footfal s crushing the jungle

leaves.

“Good-bye, Black Hawk.”

When we’ve left each friend and brother,

When we’ve parted wide and far,

We will think of one another,

As even better than we are.

“PARTING,” CHARLOTTE BRONTË

B eams of sunlight pierced pockets in the forest canopy, illuminating the ethereal

terrain. Sophia hiked along the narrow dirt path at a brisk pace, eager to reach the cave.

She still had a long journey ahead of her, and she needed funds before she traveled into

town to obtain supplies. She had informed her father about the trip; however, the man

had a short memory. She had to return home before it was dark, or he might forget

everything she had told him and panic, wondering if perhaps she had forsaken him.

Sophia paused and sighed. She had considered it once: deserting her father. Two years

ago, after a stormy row, he had challenged her tooth and nail, believing her to be her

mother. He had even aimed a pistol at her, thinking she was about to poison his food. She

had eventually convinced him she was his daughter, that she wasn’t going to harm him.

However, the traumatic affair had taxed her strength, her spirit even. Hopelessness had

filled her soul, and she had ruminated about taking a piece of the brigand’s treasure and

abandoning him to his madness.

But she had not.

Sophia wiped the sweat from her brow. She resumed her hike, passing tall stalks of

bamboo. She stil ed again.

Slowly she reached for the delicate white blooms, mesmerized by the miraculous petals.

She fingered the soft floral underside in awe. The bamboo flowered once every thirtythree years. She wasn’t likely to see it, feel it again in her lifetime. It was as old as…James.

Sophia closed her eyes, the sensuous blossoms stirring memories of the pirate’s sensual

touch, his breath. The buds had last sprouted around the time he was born…and now

again the year she had met him. Nature was like a calendar, marking time, recording

singular events.

She scoffed at the romantic rot. The brigand had come from the mist and offered her a

dreamy tryst before he had vanished back into the blackness. She would not see him

again. It wasn’t providence, their meeting. It was random chance.

A Giant Swallowtail Butterfly fluttered across the dirt path. Sophia gazed at the black

creature with brilliant yellow stripes and a wide wingspan…as large as James’s hand.

She huffed and cut through the jungle. She saw James in everything, it seemed. It’d

been three days since she had parted from him, and still he pressed on her thoughts.

Meeting the brigand might not have been cosmically ordained, but he had uprooted her

weary world, and now she was filled with a keen hunger for a more intimate connection: a

spiritual connection.

Sophia slowed, crushed by the profound knowledge that she was all but alone on the

island. The little time she had spent with James reminded her of how much she needed

another voice—a sane voice—in the house, a warm touch, a bond that transcended

physical pleasure. The ache wel ed deep inside her, crippling her legs, and she stumbled,

overwhelmed by the truth that she might never form such a bond, that she might never

know true camaraderie or trust or joy.

A branch snapped.

Sophia’s heart pinched. She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the woods, but the

leafy stage was peppered with harmless plants and trilling birds. However, she had learned

to trust her instincts and slowly removed the pistol from the satchel strapped across her

bust, crouching.

She listened for foreign footfal s, but the pounding beats in her head muffled the noises

coming from her surroundings. She eyed the jungle instead, scanning the lush terrain for

movement…and spotted the rustling ferns.

Armed redcoats slunk through the dense vegetation, like two hounds stalking prey. The

bloodthirsty villains heralded strife and death, and she lifted off her haunches, blood

pulsing through her veins at a wild tempo, and pointed the pistol at one of the marching

men. She was a skil ed markswoman…but she was outgunned.

The soldiers stilled and aimed their muskets straight for her head.

“Put down the pistol,” ordered a redcoat.

Sophia considered darting through the bush. Musket fire wasn’t very accurate. But she

suspected, at such close range, the lead balls would find their way into her backside…and

then who would take care of her father?

“Now!” he barked.

Sophia maintained a firm grip on the weapon, her heart thundering in her breast. If she

lowered the pistol, she would be at the mercy of the ruthless redcoats. She might disarm,

even kill one of the villains with a single shot. The other, however, would strike her dead.

Fingers quivered with repressed rage as she struggled between two poor choices, sweat

gathering at her brow and under her arms…but at last, she lowered the pistol at her side.

“Drop it!”

She was reluctant. In her moist and shaky grip, the steel-and-wood flintlock offered her

some protection. She would sooner place the barrel at her own skull than submit to the

brutal beasts…but then who would take care of her father?

Sophia gnashed her teeth and beat back the wretched tears that burned her eyes before

she let the weapon slip from her stiff fingers.

The flintlock landed on the leafy forest ground with a soft thump.

The soldiers smirked.

“We only want some information from you, poppet.”

Horseshit!

The redcoats killed and maimed and ravished the rebellious islanders. There was no

room for “talk” within their vicious regime.

One man approached.

Sophia girded her muscles for the wicked assault, blood throbbing in her veins,

pumping into her heart. The organ ballooned in her chest until her breastbone ached

under the surging pressure.

“There was another uprising last night.” The redcoat licked his sweaty lips. “Where are

they hiding?”

“Who?” she said quietly.

“The Maroons, poppet.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know where they are.”

“I think you do.” He rested the musket against his shoulder, leering at her. “I think

you’re one of their whores, and you know exactly where we can find them.”

Sophia twirled on her heels and dashed into the woods, but the brute grabbed a fistful

of her long locks and yanked her roughly against his frame, twisting her neck and forcing

her lips to meet his foul breath.

“Tell me where they are, bitch!”

He was going to rape her whether she offered him the information or not, so she spit

in his eyes to spite him.

The crack across her cheek blinded her for a moment, and she dropped to the ground

in a daze, every nerve thrumming in her body. Blood filled her mouth, stained her lips.

There was a swelling pressure in her head, squeezing her skull.

Sophia screamed as a weight crushed her back, pressing her breasts into the dirt,

wrenching the breath from her lungs until she choked and gasped.

“Tell me, poppet,” he said hoarsely in her ear. “Tell me!”

She wriggled and thrashed under his heavy muscles, seeking air. She sensed an

unnatural strength welling inside her, and she bucked her hips to get him off her

backside, but he rolled with her wild outbursts, keeping her hair locked in his fierce grip

and her hands pinned under her belly.

“Eager for a fuck, are you?”

She sobbed deep in her breast as he fished for her hem, raking the garment over her

legs. The other redcoat smiled and maintained a firm watch with the musket.

“I get her next, Paul.”

Sophia didn’t want to know her attacker’s name. She didn’t want to know anything

about the savage dog. She wanted to cut off his toes and pick her teeth with his bones.

She wanted to strip the flesh from his muscles and hear his woeful wails.

He grabbed her quim, pumping the flesh with his fingers. “Hmm…you’re a tasty dish.”

She wanted to vomit. She kicked her legs and screamed inside her bones. He deepened

the polluting assault, ramming his fingers inside her tight body.

Sophia felt like she was drowning in thick, dark mud. Brain and body alike screeched in

protest. She struggled in pain, but he overpowered her.

“Hold her, David.”

No! No! No!

The other redcoat dropped the musket and knelt at her head. He braced his arms on

her shoulders and pinned her to the ground, while his brutal cohort stripped his trousers,

divesting himself of his Tarleton helmet during the brawl. She pinched her legs together,

her heart swelling in her throat, but the devil wedged his knee between her thighs, forcing

the limbs apart.

“A good fuck might stir your memory, poppet.”

Sophia suffocated on her tears. She stiffened as she sensed the cusp of his filthy

erection slip between her buttocks.

“Is this what you’re looking for, poppet?”

She screamed in silence…and then she gasped for sweet air as the heavy load was lifted

off her backside.

Sophia coughed, spitting blood and tears. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes darting,

but the redcoats were already dead or unconscious, their heads knocked against a tree. She

eyed the blood splattered across the bark with pleasure.

Black Hawk stood over the limp carcasses, burly legs braced apart, fists clenched, chest

heaving. She spied him through her tears, like a hazy dream, and she sobbed and laughed

in both gratitude and pain.

He looked at her. The rabid blackness in his eyes burned bright. Soon, though, the

pristine blue pigment returned, and his sharp breathing mellowed.

“Sophia,” he rasped.

It sounded so sweet, the way he said her name. The low and familiar sound comforted

her wild heartbeats.

“I…I’m al right,” she stammered.

She smeared the blood, the tears from her features. She was trembling, vicious shakes

that rattled her teeth. She was sore, too. Every bone throbbed in agony from the brutal

assault. She sat on the ground for a quiet moment, grasping for her wits, her breath.

The leaves crunched under his sandaled footfalls as he advanced toward her, and she

flinched.

He stilled.

“I won’t hurt you, Sophia.”

She sighed. “I know…I’m just…”

She hiccuped.

He crouched instead. “I have to touch you.” He opened his fists and spread out his

fingers in an unthreatening manner. “Let me see if your bones are broken.”

She gathered her skirt and curled her legs together, wincing. “I’m al right.”

But he cupped her ankle. “No, you’re not.”

Softly he fingered her leg. She swatted at his hand. He grasped her wrist and moved

closer toward her, hunkering at her side.

“Your lip is bleeding.”

She pushed him. “I’m fine, damn it!”

Sophia staggered to her feet and wavered, muscles smarting. He captured her before

she stumbled, his hold firm and yet tender. But she yanked her arm away from him.

She wanted to weep. Three nights ago, his touch had been like balm, so comforting

after so much solitude. However, now his touch was as sinister as that of the redcoats. It

was al in her head, she knew it. He would not hurt her in such a vile way. But right then

she couldn’t stomach the intimacy.

She turned away from him and wiped the blood from her mouth, eyeing the lifeless

figures sprawled in the dirt. Bile filled her belly. It seeped into every pore of her being.

She gathered her shaky strength before she slammed her foot into one of the villain’s

cods. She attacked the other limp form with frantic zeal, too.

After she had wasted her energy on the redcoats, she retrieved the pistol and returned it

to the satchel before she resumed her hike, heading for the cave.

James followed behind her. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t even talk to her. He

remained firmly at her back as she scaled the mountain range.

At length, he said, “I can carry you.”

She shook her head, her cheek swelling. She had enough strength to keep moving, for

vim was stil coursing through her veins at a rapid rate. However, she appreciated the

pirate’s company even if she wasn’t ready to accept his help. She didn’t want to be alone

in the woods. There might be more redcoats skulking through the thick vegetation.

The steady drum of crashing water soon whispered in her ears, and she moved toward

the sanctuary in eager strides. She was covered in filth, and she squirmed in her own skin,

yearning to cast off the layer of smut.

Sophia paused at the edge of the lagoon. She gazed at the welcoming water, a blended

array of sapphire blue and emerald green. A tal and narrow waterfall spilled from the