Captain's Bride (39 page)

“Tell me about Nicholas’s mother,” she said to Brad
as they walked along. “His real mother.”

Brad led her to a small stone bench at one end of the
garden, and they sat down. Brad smiled at her, glad, it seemed, for
her question. “Her name was Collette Dubois before she married
Alexander Blackwell. She was a beautiful French Creole. Dark, like
Nicholas, very exotic. Of course I never knew her. Nicholas knew
her only briefly. He was just seven when she left Alexander for a
French plantation owner. Alex never got over her. After Nicholas
ran away to sea, Alexander would get drunk and talk about her. I’d
let him ramble on, fascinated. She seemed the most exciting
creature. No wonder Nicholas loved her so much. Alexander said
Nicholas used to cry himself to sleep calling her name.”

Glory felt a pain in her heart. She could easily
imagine Nicholas as a small boy, his dark eyes bright with unshed
tears, yearning for a mother’s love and never finding it.

“I don’t think Nicholas ever stopped loving her,”
Brad continued. “I know Alexander never did. She was quite a
notorious lady. Took one lover after another, right in front of her
husband’s nose. He just looked the other way. He loved her so much
he would have done anything to keep her.”

“Did Nicholas know?”

“Other children used to taunt him about her. It
wasn’t until later that he understood why.” They sat silent for a
time. The robin flew from the garden wall and winged its way
overhead. Then, “Glory, I know what happened on the strand. About
Nathan, I mean.”

Glory felt the sting of tears, the memory so painful
she had to look away. “How could he have believed that of me, Brad?
We were so close. I thought he loved me. I trusted him.”

“Nicholas has never known a woman like you, Glory.
His mother betrayed him; my mother treated him badly. He couldn’t
trust a woman. Any woman. After he grew up, he was afraid to fall
in love, afraid he’d end up the way his father did. He only pursued
women who weren’t a threat. Women with no loyalties, who required
no attachments or involvements, most of them married. Their
cheating only perpetuated his mistrust. It was an endless circle
until you came along.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you loved him. Really loved him. You were
honest and sincere. Trustworthy. When he saw you with Nathan, he
believed he’d misjudged you. That you were really no different from
the rest. By then he loved you so much, he couldn’t stand the
thought of being betrayed again.”

Glory didn’t realize she was crying until Brad handed
her his kerchief.

She looked up at him and smiled through her tears,
feeling as if a burden had been lifted from her heart.
She
understood
. For the first time since they’d left the strand,
she understood why Nicholas behaved as he had.

“He loves you, Glory. When he found out the truth
about you and Nathan, he felt more miserable than ever before in
his life. He realized he’d wronged you. He hoped there was still a
chance for the two of you to find happiness.” Brad squeezed her
hand. “He still wants that happiness, Glory. And even if he won’t
admit it, he needs you—desperately.”

Glory brushed away the last of her tears. “Thank you,
Brad. You’ll never know how much this talk has meant to me.”

“You
do
love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Have you told him?”

She shook her head. “But I can now. Thanks to you.”
He helped her up from the bench.

“He still isn’t completely sure of you, Glory. He
needs to know how you feel. Don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t, Brad. I promise.”

“He’s a good man,” Brad said. “The very best.”

“I know. If you wouldn’t mind, Brad, I’d like some
time alone.”

“I understand.”

He left her there in the garden, alone with her
thoughts and wanting more than anything in the world to be wrapped
in her husband’s strong arms, to say the words she’d said in her
heart a thousand times. As she walked among the flowers, she
stopped at the end of a row to pick one perfect bud.

The sound of a man’s voice and running footsteps
jolted her from her thoughts. “Glory!”

Across the garden, Glory saw Nathan racing toward
her. His clothes were disheveled and tom, his face wet with
perspiration.

The soft petals fell from her trembling hands. “My
God, Nathan, what is it?” Eyes searching, she glanced in the
direction from which he’d come. “How did you get in here? Where did
you come from?”

He answered her in panting, fragmented sentences. “I
climbed the garden wall. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I got your
note. You said you’d be at Nicholas’s town house for the Whitmores’
ball.” He glanced worriedly behind him. “The slave catchers, Glory.
They came to the school looking for me. My roommate warned me. He
showed me a poster with my name on it offering a reward.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I’ve got to get away, Glory. Maybe Nicholas could
help. I could go to Boston, then on up to Canada.”

“How could Mother do such a thing?” Glory asked.

“I don’t know. She always disliked me, but I never
thought she’d go this far.”

“You’ll be safe here until Nicholas gets home and we
can decide what to do.”

“ ’Fraid not, Miz Summerfield. Boy’s done broke the
law. He’s got to pay.”

Glory spun toward the heavily accented voice. A tall,
thin man with a wispy mustache held a pistol aimed at Nathan’s
chest.

Glory glanced toward the house. “Brad!” she screamed,
picking up her skirts to run. In two quick strides, a second man
stepped into her path, cutting her off. He clamped a hand over her
mouth and circled her waist with his arm so tightly she could
scarcely breathe.

“Let her go,” Nathan warned. “I’m the one you
want.”

“I ain’t gonna hurt her,” the man who held her said
almost pleasantly. He was tall and well built, with sandy hair and
an almost boyish face. “She’s gonna go with us as far as the
docks.” Beneath her fingers she could feel the rough texture of his
homespun shirt, the muscular chest inside. “We don’ want no trouble
gittin’ you aboard the ship.”

“How did you find me?” Nathan asked.

“Figured you’d run soon as you knew we was lookin’
for you. Waited outside the school. You led us here.”

“But you’ll let her go at the docks,” Nathan pressed.
The tall, thin man stepped forward and punched him hard in the
stomach, doubling him over.

“Ain’t none o’ your business what we do with her,
nigger boy. Now, turn around.” Eyeing the pistol and gasping for
breath, Nathan did as he was told. The thin man bound his wrists,
then tied a gag over his mouth.

“You gonna come along peaceful?” the man who held
Glory asked with an appraising glance, “or are we gonna have to gag
you, too?” His bright green eyes twinkled, as if the thought amused
him somehow.

“If it’s money you’re after,” Glory said, “I’ll pay
you not to take him. More than any reward.”

“Money ain’t the only reason,” the thin man said.
“This here nigger put hisself above the law. He thinks he’s better
than we are, can’t you see that?”

“No, I can’t. Nathan’s just as good as you and I. Not
any better. But not any worse.”

“Hush now, darlin’,” the younger man said. “It ain’t
fittin’ for a white woman to talk like that. Now, get going, or
Spence here will have to give your darkie another lesson in
manners.”

“I’ll do just as you say. Just don’t hurt him.” As
they moved toward the gate at the rear of the garden, Glory
searched her mind frantically, trying to decide what to do. It
suddenly occurred to her that even if she could gain Brad’s
attention, he might not be able to stop the two men. The fugitive
slave law gave slave catchers the right to return runaways even
from the North. These men were de-termined to take Nathan back to
Summerfield Manor. Until they arrived there, Nathan would be at
their mercy. Slave catchers were notorious for their cruelty. The
only way Nathan was sure to reach the manor unharmed was for Glory
to go with him.

But what about Nicholas?
a tiny voice warned.
She looked at Nathan, bound and gagged, being dragged along like a
common criminal. Just as before, she had no choice but to help him.
She would do what she must—and pray to God her husband would
understand.

Emerging from the alley, Glory spotted a wagon
waiting halfway down the block; a third man, with thick mutton-chop
sideburns and a gray stovepipe hat, sat holding the reins. As they
drew near, Glory felt the younger man’s hand circle her waist,
lifting her up. The feel of his warm breath as he held her a little
too close sent a shudder of apprehension down her spine.

“Spence, you get in back,’’ he said to his partner.
“We wouldn’t want the lady gettin’ her skirts dirty.” He winked at
her as he climbed up on the seat, pinning her between him and the
muttonchopped man. The wagon rumbled away, jolting along the
cobblestone streets. In a few short minutes they reached the nearby
docks.

“What are we gonna do with the girl?” Spence
asked.

“Why don’t you take me with you?” Glory suggested,
and Nathan began to squirm and protest behind the gag. “I’ve been
wanting to go home. My mother would probably pay you quite a bit
extra for returning me.”

“Gal may be right,” the younger man said, eager to
agree. “Story I heard was they ran away together. Girl’s wanted
home, too. Like she says, her ma oughta be real happy to have her
back.”

“I don’t know, Matt,” Spence said. “Women ain’t
nothin’ but trouble.”

“Money’s money,” the muttonchopped man put in,
“however it comes. Girl’s here. We got no place to keep her till
the ship leaves nohow.”

“All right,” Spence agreed. “But you two is
responsible fer her. I ain’t kissin’ no dolly’s behind fer no
amount a money.”

“Seems to me this dolly’s behind’d be real nice to
kiss,” Matt said, green eyes bright with mischief—and something
else Glory refused to name. She felt another shiver of alarm. She
might be at the mercy of these three men for more than ten days.
Would they keep their distance?

“Come on, darlin’.” Matt grabbed her arm. “Wiggle
that pretty behind a yours up the gangplank. We got a long ways to
go to git you home.”

The accommodations aboard the
Southern Star
were less than spacious. Even the tiny cabin she’d shared with
Rosabelle on board the
Black Spider
seemed luxurious by
comparison. There was a rope bunk with a corn-husk mattress, a
barrel for a table, and a single wooden chair. A small whale-oil
lantern hung from a peg on the rough plank wall. The moment they
boarded the ship, Nathan had been clamped in irons and taken below
to join a dozen other runaways.

“
Ship
.” Glory scoffed at the word, the sound
hollow in the near empty room. She would hardly call the
Southern Star
a ship. It was a vessel of sorts, more of a
scow. The decks were dirty and ill-maintained, the sails grimy and
tattered. Nathan would have said the crew was a “scurvy lot.” She
would have to be careful, stay away from the men as much as
possible. Nicholas had taught her about men like these.

Nicholas
. Glory sank down on the narrow bunk.
Just the thought of Nicholas brought the sting of tears. She could
still see his face as he had smiled at her this morning, feel the
gentle pressure of his lips as he kissed her good-bye. His touch
had stirred sweet longing even before he left. By now he would be
on his way to his meeting in Albany. By the time he returned to the
city, she would be well on her way back home.

But the South wasn’t home to Glory. Not anymore. Now
home was with Nicholas,
wherever
he was. If only she could
have left word. She should have done something, anything to let him
know where she’d gone.

Lying on the sagging bunk, Glory let her mind conjure
thoughts of Nicholas, and the one thought she’d held at bay loomed
strong: What would Nicholas think had happened to her? Every time
the question arose, the answer came swift and hard, bringing a stab
of pain: He would think she had run away. He’d think she had
betrayed him— just like his mother. She didn’t want to believe it,
refused to believe it—for now she understood the heartbreak it
would cause. Once they reached Charleston, she would send a message
to Nicholas by the swiftest packet. Still, it would be weeks, maybe
even a month before word reached him. What would he do in the
meantime? Would he believe something had happened? Would he try to
find her? Even if he tried he would find no trace. Little by little
he’d be convinced she had left him.

Glory closed her eyes. She knew what he would do.
Knew
, as she was coming to know him so well. He’d go to
Kristen or to a woman like Ginger McKinnes. He’d find comfort in
her arms. He’d make love to another woman in an effort to forget
her, to be rid of her forever.

And this time Glory wouldn’t forgive him.

No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how hard
she tried. Because this time the breach of trust would be too
great. No amount of love could repair the damage. No amount of
forgiveness would bring them together again.

Glory turned her head into the darkness of her bunk.
Tears soaked the stiff wool blanket, rough against her cheek. How
she missed him. How she needed him. If only shed told him how much
she loved him, he might have believed in her, been able to trust
her long enough to discover the truth. But she hadn’t said the
words, and now it was too late.

She thought of their time on the strand, but that
seemed long ago and unimportant. The times that meant something now
were those they’d spent at their home in Tar-rytown.
Our
home, he had said. She remembered their rides together in the
country, the gentleness of his touch as he’d held her in his arms.
He was just beginning to confide in her, just beginning to speak
his heart.