Captain's Bride (41 page)

In her dreams he made love to her, time and time
again. Then she would awaken to a rush of despair, her body hot and
tightly strung, achy, and tense.

Glory stared down at the water sweeping beneath the
hull, an iridescent froth glistening in the moonlight. By tomorrow
night, Spencer James had told her, they’d be docking in Charleston.
The trip had taken even longer than shed imagined. They’d stopped
twice to drop off or pick up runaway slaves, and on top of that the
Southern Star
was a wide-keeled slow-moving old boat. Glory
thanked God the trip was almost over—but Nathan’s ordeal was just
beginning.

It still seemed out of character for Louise
Summerfield to carry a grudge this far. She was too practical, too
concerned with the everyday problems of running the plantation, to
get caught up in revenge. Still, there was the poster to consider.
Nathan’s roommate said a reward had been offered to bring Nathan
home.

Glory shuddered against a gust of cool wind that tore
at her hair and whipped at her skirts. Somehow, some way, she had
to make her mother see reason.

“Evenin’, darlin’.”

Glory turned with a start. Matt Bigger stood beside
her, eyes fixed on the gentle curve of her bosom hidden beneath her
soft cashmere shawl. She pulled her wrap a little closer around her
shoulders as she faced the sandy-haired man. “Good evening, Mr.
Bigger.”

“Mr. Bigger. I like that.” He teased the edge of her
jaw with his finger. “I like my women polite. Polite and
pretty—just like you. I been doin’ some thinkin’. ’Bout what Spence
and Lester said, how you was goods and all. I figure my share of
the take this trip to be a good bit of cash. I could make it up to
’em for their share of the profit on you. You and me could go away
together. Go some-wheres and make a fresh start.”

“I’m flattered, Mr. Bigger,” Glory said, straining to
make her voice sound even, “but as I told you before, I already
have a husband.”

Matt’s green eyes rested on her face. “Makes no
difference to me. I got a powerful need for you, Glory.” He placed
his hands on her shoulders, drawing her just inches away from his
face. “Come downstairs with me. I’ll show you how good a real man
can make you feel.”

Glory fought against the tremors she knew were just
moments away. “Please, Matt. You’re a nice boy. But I—”

“You’re gonna come downstairs with me,” he told her,
all the softness gone from his voice. “You’re gonna entertain me
proper like, and you ain’t gonna say a word about it to nobody.
’Cause if you do, I’m gonna see that nigger boy of yours has a
little
accident
.”

Glory swallowed hard, fighting back tears. What on
earth could she do? Bigger tugged her toward the passageway. It was
dark and musty in the narrow corridor. Wildly, Glory glanced
around, looking for some means of escape. If she screamed, other
men would come to her aid, but from the looks she’d been getting
these past few days, she might have more than one attacker to
defend herself against. Bigger swung open his cabin door and forced
her inside, closing the door with a soft thud behind him.

“Don’t you understand, Glory? I gotta have you. Don’t
make this harder than it has to be.”

“Matt, please, listen to me.”

“Shut up! I’m tired o’ listening. After we make love,
you’ll feel different. We can go away together. Now, take off that
dress.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

He stiffened. “If you want that nigger boy to get
back home alive, you will.”

Glory swallowed past the lump of tears in her
throat.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Glory. You’re about the
prettiest, sweetest little thing I ever seen. No one’s gonna know.”
Bigger advanced on her. “Now, take it off.” Glory took a step back.
“All right. I’ll do as you say.” Stalling for time she turned her
back to him and removed her shawl, then began to unbutton the front
of her dress. Her eyes searched madly for something she could use
as a weapon.

“Turn around. I wanna watch.”

Shaking all over, Glory did as he asked. Glancing
about, her eyes locked on exactly what she needed. Resting on a
barrel next to Bigger’s arm, the antler handle of a small,
thin-bladed knife protruded from its sheath. If she could just
distract him long enough, she could loose the knife and use it to
gain her freedom.

Glory unbuttoned each button with care until she’d
reached her waist. Bigger slid the material off her shoulders. His
hands felt rough against her skin, and Glory fought the urge to
run. The skirt of the dress buttoned down the back.

“Would you mind helping me?” she asked.

Bigger’s one dark tooth flashed as he grinned. “My
pleasure.”

Glory got as close to him as she dared, then again
turned her back. While Bigger fumbled with her buttons, Glory
carefully freed the knife. She slid the blade out just as the
sandy-haired man realized what she was doing.

“Why, you little minx!” He spun her around and
slapped her, sending Glory sprawling and the knife flying. She saw
where it landed and rolled to grab it just as Bigger lunged. She’d
moved the knife only inches—it was enough.

Bigger fell on the blade, his weight heavy on top of
her. She heard the breath leave his lungs in a rush, felt something
warm and slick between her fingers. The door burst open and Lester
Fields raced in.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?”

Glory couldn’t answer. Her teeth were chattering, her
body shaking all over. Fields pulled Bigger off her, and he rolled
into a protective ball, clutching his injured shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “It was an
accident.”

Lester Fields helped her to her feet. “You did what
you had to, ma’am.”

To her surprise, Bigger grinned up at her. “You got
grit, darlin’. I’ll say that for you.”

“Leave her alone, Matt,” Fields said.

Glory pulled the bodice of her dress up over her
che-miss, buttoned the soft merino with shaky fingers, then let
Lester Fields guide her from the room.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am,” Lester told her. “I shoulda
kept a closer eye on him. He really ain’t such a bad sort, ’cept
when it comes to women. Then he sorta goes crazy. Women’s always
been Matt’s downfall, and you’re way pertier than most.”

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt my brother.”

“Matt’s no fool. Nigger means money. He likes money
almost as much as he does women.” He flashed a reassuring smile,
gray muttonchop sideburns pulling wide with the expression.

Hoping Lester Fields was right, Glory let him lead
her down the corridor to her room. That night she propped the
barrel
and
the chair against the door.

“We’ve made good time, lad. With any luck at all,
we’ll make Charleston right behind ’em.” Mac leaned an arm on the
mast, watching the coastline in the distance. Nicholas stood a few
feet away, hand gripping the shrouds, black-booted foot propped
against the rail. The warm southern breeze ruffled his clean white
linen shirt and curly black hair.

“You and the men have done a fine job,” Nicholas
said, “but I can’t help worrying.”

“
Aye
. She’s a beautiful woman, lad. A
temptation to any man. But she’s a fighter. Smart, too. She’ll take
care of herself. Ye have to believe that. Besides, they wouldna be
takin’ her along if there were no profit in it. They expect to be
paid. She’ll do ’em no good if she’s not returned unharmed.”

“I hope you’re right, Mac.”

“Excuse me, Captain.” Josh Pintassle walked up beside
him looking as handsome as ever, if a bit more mature. “Any special
orders before I turn in?”

Nicholas smiled, “No, Josh. We’re making record time,
thanks to your efforts. You know how much I appreciate it.”

We should make port late tomorrow night. Knowing the
Southern Star
, she won’t be far ahead of us.”

Nicholas nodded. “It depends on whether she’s made
stops along the way.”

“Most likely she has. Wouldn’t make sense for her not
to.” Josh glanced toward the wheel. Jago Dodd manned the helm, his
knife-scarred face set to the task. They’d run with a spare crew,
put in twice the normal hours, but it felt good to be back with old
shipmates. Josh turned toward his friend and mentor. Captain
Blackwell looked different somehow. Certainly he looked worried,
but a new sureness, an inner strength, had stilled the restlessness
that had plagued him before. Loving a good woman could do that for
a man. Or so it was said. Josh hoped one day he’d find out for
himself.

“Think I’ll go below, Captain.”

“Good night, Josh.”

“Ye had best git some sleep yourself, lad,” Mac told
Nicholas.

“I will, Mac.”

“ ’Night, Cap’n.” Mac’s heavy footfalls receded
across the deck, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Moonlight
glistened on the crests of the waves, reminding Nicholas of the
lights in Glory’s flaxen hair. God, how he missed her. When they
got home, he vowed, he wouldn’t let her out of his bed for a
week!

When they got home
. He pulled a thin black
cheroot from his pocket, struck a lucifer against the rail, and lit
up, inhaling the pungent smoke. Let her be all right, he thought
for the hundredth time. Let her be safe and unharmed.

And make her want to go home.

The
Southern Star
reached the Charleston
docks early the following afternoon. Glory had stayed in her cabin,
letting no one in except Lester Fields, who brought her a tray of
food.

Now, as she climbed the ladder to the deck and caught
her first glimpse of home in almost a year, Glory felt a tightening
in her chest. She’d missed this place. Missed seeing the old Negro
women braiding baskets from sweet glass, palmetto, and pine needles
as they’d been doing for decades. Missed summers on Sullivans
Island. Missed she-crab soup and oyster and sausage pie.

But now above all else she missed Nicholas. Even the
beauty of Charleston couldn’t stay him from her thoughts. Again she
wondered if he’d been true or if he had been driven to seek comfort
in another woman’s arms. Whatever had happened, somehow she had to
get word to him.

She moved toward the rail where Lester Fields, gray
stovepipe hat in hand, stood beside Spencer James. Matt Bigger
waited with Nathan and a string of glossy blackskinned slaves all
chained together. Glory’s heart went out to them. Except for his
cocoa coloring, Nathan looked like the others—gaunt and haggard,
tired and bedraggled— older than their years, it seemed to Glory.
Nathan’s elegant frock coat was missing, his white shirt and fawn
trousers no more than a tattered mass of brown-stained rags. His
feet were bare and dirty. She moved to his side and put her arms
around his neck.

“Oh, Nathan, what have they done to you?”

“Hush, now,” he soothed. “We’re almost home.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’ve felt better.” He took a deep breath of the
salty sea air. “Feels good just to breathe clean air again.”

“Git away from the darkie,” Matt Bigger warned.
“Ain’t seemly for a white woman to be talkin’ to a Nigra, let alone
touchin’ ’im.”

“Do as he says, Glory,” Nathan told her, seeing her
stiffen, ready to do battle. For once she did as her brother
asked.

“I’d like to get word to my husband,” she said to
Lester Fields. “I need to let him know I’m all right.”

“That’ll have to wait till you get home,” Matt put
in. His mood had darkened the minute she mentioned her husband. “We
ain’t got time for your socializin’.”

Glory squared her shoulders, once more ready to
fight. Then her proud bearing sank. What difference would another
day or two make? By now the damage was done. Or at least so she
imagined. Last night her dreams had been of Nicholas wrapped in
Kristen Pedigru’s arms.

“She’s gone, Kristen,” he’d said to the dark-haired
beauty. “She never really loved me anyway.”

“
I
love you, Nicky. Let me show you how much.”
Glory had awakened in a cold sweat, images of Nicholas kissing
Kristen’s heated flesh imprinted on her mind. She closed her eyes
against a sudden rush of pain and headed down the gangplank.

Four horses were waiting on the docks for the ride to
the plantation. None carried a sidesaddle. Glory had never ridden
astride, but she didn’t protest. Instead she let Lester Fields lead
the animal over to a small wooden crate so she could mount. She
settled herself onto the low-cantled man’s saddle and dug her soft
kid shoes into the metal stirrups, skirts hiked up on her calves.
Her stockings had gotten so tom and ragged that she had discarded
them long ago.

Matt Bigger stared at her with a hungry look in his
eye and a wide grin on his boyish face. The bandage on his shoulder
protruded from the open front of his homespun shirt. “Let’s get
goin’,” he said. “We’ll take the girl and the fine-talkin’ darkie
home first, then deliver the rest.”

Glory didn’t argue. She just hoped no one would
recognize her. Her hair was a mess, her clothing a bloodstained
shambles. She wanted this whole sordid business settled with as
little notoriety as possible. Her family had lived in Charleston
for years. The Summerfield name did not deserve to be sullied; her
father’s memory did not deserve it.

They rode all afternoon, the pace a fast crawl that
forced the slaves to keep moving in a long forlorn column stretched
out behind them. The sound of their clanking chains broke Glory’s
heart. Matt Bigger rode beside her, green eyes glued to the smooth
skin bared between ankle and hem. Once he ran his hand all the way
up to the curve of her bottom, and Glory wanted to scream. Instead
she jerked on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt and nearly
unseating Bigger from his. He chuckled and winked at her. God, she
wished she were home.