Captive Innocence (29 page)

“You must be feeling a lot better for you to be out walking in this heat, especially at this time of day,” Jamie remarked as he fell into step alongside Royall.

Royall felt her stomach lurch. Would she ever forget her fright of a few moments ago. She couldn't be wrong in her thinking. She knew what she saw and what she felt. For now, she had to act as though nothing was wrong, talk to Jamie, and appear to act normally. God, what was normal? “To answer your question, Jamie, I'm bored to tears.” Her tone was irritable and she felt irritable, out of sorts and, above all, angry. She lashed out. “I wish I was back in New England, away from this godforsaken, rotten jungle.”

“Why?” Jamie asked bluntly.

Why? Of course he would ask a stupid question like why? “What is there for me here? Nothing,” she said in annoyance. “If I'm lucky, and I use the word loosely, I may escape this jungle with my life intact. I understand from Mrs. Quince and from Elena that the plantation owners are up in arms over the Baron's actions these past weeks. For a time I was prepared to do my share and not shirk my responsibility, but with your father staying in town and not coming near the plantation, my hands are tied. I plan to see Mr. Morrison early next week and settle the matter once and for all. With or without your father present. There are so many things I don't understand about this plantation and the operation of the rubber market. All along I've wanted to know, but your father chose to keep me in the dark. The time for procrastinating is long gone. I refuse to wait any longer.”

“Running the plantation is man's work, Royall. You can't ride out and do what all the men do around here. You must know that women belong in town or in the drawing room playing the spinet like you do. You're too beautiful to do a man's work.” Jamie's voice was a whimper, almost a whine, as he watched her to see how she would react to the word
spinet.

“I just want to know about the operation, I didn't say I wanted to run the plantation. I realize that there are people far more capable than myself. I must have an accounting of my shares. Your father's reluctance to do this only makes me more certain than ever that he has been less than honest concerning business. I think your father is a scoundrel and is out to bilk me of my share of this plantation and all the holdings here in Brazil.” She watched covertly to see Jamie's reaction.

Jamie didn't appear to take offense at her words concerning his father. “My father has never taken either Carl or myself into his confidence. Carl would get angry and stomp out of the room. Father would just say time will take care of everything. Is that what you wanted me to say, Royall? Will that answer make you want to stay here in Brazil? I don't want you to go away. You're so pretty and your skin is so soft. You don't yell and screech at me like Elena does. Rosy shivers when I ask her to play. Once I saw Nessie stick her tongue out at me. She didn't think I saw her do it, but I did. I slapped her. When I told my father, he said she deserved to be slapped.”

Oh, God, oh, God, Royall moaned softly as she shivered in the clammy heat of midday. An ominous feeling came over her. Something had to be done, and done soon.

 

Royall stamped up the scrubbed white steps onto the veranda. Gulping her drink, she winced at the sour taste and quickly set it down. Jamie stared at her for a moment, finally deciding her black looks would do nothing for his own temper. He settled himself in a far corner and proceeded to line up his wooden soldiers on the veranda railing. The sight irritated Royall beyond reason.

Her eyes were a storm of fury as she stalked into the kitchen in search of Elena and a cool drink. The calmness in her tone surprised Royall when she spoke to Elena. The housekeeper smiled and offered a slice of guava. Royall shook her head and requested a drink. “Elena, I want to talk to you. I need some answers from you, and I want them now.”

Elena pivoted, and immediately a veil dropped over her eyes.

Royall's back stiffened. Elena was on guard as always. Why? She wanted answers and she wanted them now. “Elena, I want to know why Jamie plays with the children. Why is he permitted to spend so much time with the little girls? It isn't . . . it isn't healthy, Elena. Isn't there something he can do, some chores, something or somewhere he could be of some use? I don't want him to play with the girls any more, and I expect you to take care of the matter.”

“Senora Banner, you must realize that our customs here in Brazil are quite different than those in New England.”

“Elena, you're talking like a fool and we both know that you aren't a fool. We're not discussing
customs.
We're discussing an unhealthy situation; I'm concerned with the girls' safety. I saw him today and my blood ran cold. If I hadn't come along when I did he could have . . . he might have . . . he could have hurt them. Or worse.”

“Worse?” The black eyes were dark pools of inscrutability.

“Yes, worse. You know exactly what I'm talking about. There's no need for either of us to hedge. If you don't tend to Jamie now, before the day ends, I'll take the children to the Rivera plantation. I mean it, Elena.”

The honey-skinned hand that held out the cool drink trembled slightly. Elena inclined her head. “We understand each other perfectly, Senora. Send Jamie to me when you return to the veranda. I'm sure the drink will meet with your satisfaction.”

Royall carefully placed her drink beside her wicker chair. “Jamie,” she called brightly. “Elena would like you to go into the kitchen.” Jamie pretened to ignore her, but he stepped off the veranda, through the French-paned doors, into the house. A moment later he was back. He slammed the door, the sound loud and angry. His fists were clenched, his shoulders hunched with fury. Jamie strode to the far end of the veranda where his soldiers lined the railing. Neither by glance nor by word did he acknowledge Royall's presence.

Royall watched in silent horror as the young man slowly and methodically snapped the heads from the brilliantly uniformed soldiers. As each small head dropped to the parquet floor, it made a soft, plunking sound. Royall found herself counting the heads as they rolled to the floor. She could sense rather than see the tautness of his muscles bulging beneath his light coat. He was being slow and careful, and that was more horrifying to Royall than if he had been violently angry.

Suddenly, an intense fury seemed to grip him. Royall held her breath. His movements were quick, almost violent as he snapped the heads. Her eyes swept to the railing. She counted the heads. There were seven. What was wrong with him? Royall spun around, knocking the drink to the floor. She stepped in the sticky, sweet drink as she raced down the wide veranda to the main door in search of Elena.

“Elena, you must come quickly. Now!” Royall pleaded as she ran pell mell into the house. “It's Jamie, something is wrong with him! He just destroyed all of his soldiers. He severed the heads. My God, Elena, did you hear me, Jamie snapped all the heads off the soldiers. Elena! Where are you?”

“I'm here, Senora. I heard you. Where is Jamie now?”

“I left him on the veranda. What's wrong with him, Elena? I've never seen him in such a state.”

“I thought you were sending him to me. I've been waiting,” the housekeeper snapped.

“I told him but he ignored me. Elena, can you do something for him; give him some laudanum, make him sleep off whatever it is that's bothering him.”

“Senora, there is no medicine for what's bothering Jamie.” Elena's voice was flat, controlled, but her chocolate eyes were wide and afraid.

“My God. We have to do something. You have to do something, Elena.”

“I will, Senora.”

The veranda was deserted. Only the colorful heads of the toy soldiers littered the shiny floor. Royall heard Elena's indrawn breath and shivered.

“Elena, where are the girls?”

“Moriah is upstairs doing the beds. Nessie is disposing of the trash. Rosy went to fetch water from the spring.” Elena's dark eyes flashed once as Royall stared at her. Both women ran down the stairs. They ran side by side to the spring and then to the trash pile. Neither child was to be found. Jamie was not in evidence. They retraced their steps to the kitchen. There was no pail of water. The bucket that held the trash was also conspicuously absent. Royall's frightened amber eyes locked with Elena's fathomless gaze.

Jamie stared after Royall's retreating back. Why was she screaming for Elena? Nothing was the same anymore. Carl was still away, and so was his father. And what business was it of Royall's or Elena's what he did to his soldiers? They belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted with them. If he stayed, Elena would give him a tongue-lashing. She never hollered at Carl the way she did at him.

He was sick of Elena always telling him what he could and couldn't do. “Don't touch the girls, Jamie,” she would always remind him. “They're here as servants, not as playmates for you.... Grow up, Jamie.” Always telling him, “Grow up, Jamie.”

Well, he didn't want to grow up. He didn't know how. He liked the girls and he liked to play with them. They felt soft and he liked it when they giggled.

Which one of the brats had told on him again? He'd warned them and warned them, but they were just like everybody else. They didn't obey him; nobody obeyed him or even cared what he said. When he found out which one of them told on him again, he'd slap her good. What was wrong with playing ball or holding one of the squirming little girls and tickling and tickling until they almost couldn't catch their breath. But Elena didn't like it; she never liked anything he did. She'd cuffed him more than once for touching the girls, but she always hugged him afterward and told him that she knew he could try harder.

Jamie bent to pick up a twig. It snapped in his hands. He didn't want to try harder. He liked playing with them; he liked touching them, and most of all he liked the way he felt inside when he was doing it. Sometimes at night he even dreamed about them . . . But he didn't want to think about that now.

It was all Nessie's fault. She needed a good slap to teach her manners. He hated it when Elena was angry with him or disappointed in him. He tried to be good, he really did . . . but he liked those little girls. What he had to do was find that mouthy little brat and teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget!

Nervously, Jamie rubbed his fingers together as he tromped across the lawn and into the grove of trees in search of the children. He called them, not bothering to hide the anger in his tone. Suddenly, he spied Nessie and Rosy heading toward the well. This was his chance. Elena was back in the kitchen and Royall must be with her.

“Tattletales,” he muttered over and over as he chased after the little figures. His heavy footfalls alerted the two innocents, who stopped in their tracks, their faces frightened. Jamie stared at them a moment, panting from the run, suddenly uncertain that he was placing the blame on the one who told. Maybe it had been Rosy who told on him.

“Which one of you little brats complained about me to Elena?” he demanded, his voice high and shrill. Neither girl answered, their black eyes wary and frightened as they instinctively huddled together. “If you don't tell me, I'll give you both a thrashing you won't forget.” Still the children remained silent, clinging together like two little marmoset monkeys. Jamie's anger was spurred by their refusal to answer.

Furious, he reached out a long arm and grabbed Rosy, who was closest to him. “I'll teach you to tattle on me, you damn little Indian!” With one hand holding her firmly, he rendered her a stunning blow with the other. Rosy screamed, as did Nessie, who tried to grapple his long legs. He shook Nessie off with a wicked kick, sending the child sprawling into the greenery along the path.

Rosy was crying, squealing with fright, struggling wildly to free herself from his overpowering grip. The more she struggled, the more incensed Jamie became. Her frantic movements were driving him crazy with a strange, erotic need. Blinded by his emotions, he held firm to the child, whose writhing now seemed sensuously rhythmic.

Fire grew in his loins, and when he looked into the small, tear-stained face he felt his own tears spring to his eyes. What was happening to him? A small, dark hand reached up to claw his face; cursing, he felt the flesh split across his cheekbone. The fire was now approaching an inferno as he threw the child on the ground and stood looking over her. The inferno threatened to engulf him, and from somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he remembered standing beside the Baron outside the stable's studding corral. He could almost see himself as he'd been then—a thin, shy boy of twelve. He could hear the shrieks of the mare and the whinnying snorts of the stallion as the two beasts mated. The Baron had laughed softly, remarking to one of the stable hands, “She screams like a woman, that filly. The stallion will soon teach her to act her age.”

But the filly never stopped shrieking; Jamie could still hear her. Or was it Rosy?

 

Royall paced the kitchen, her hands shaking, voice quaking. Elena busied herself baking bread, kneading the soft, white dough with strong, capable hands. Her usual black dress was smudged with flour, and her always meticulously groomed hair fell from the knot at the back of her head and hung in ebony strands around her face. While she wouldn't admit it, Royall could see how agitated she was with worry about the girls and Jamie.

“Elena, where can they be?”

“Don't become overexcited, Senora. There are a thousand explanations. This wouldn't be the first time that Rosy and Nessie have run off to play when they should be attending to their chores.” Her fingers dug into the bread dough, punching, turning. “It's the heat. You shouldn't be in the kitchen; it's too hot.” She was purposely keeping her tone on a level, her glance quickly indicating the plump cook working near the stove. “Senora, step out onto the veranda, perhaps you'll see the children coming.”

Royall went to the veranda, Elena following with a cool drink. “I don't want the cook to know,” she explained briefly, wiping her hands on her dress, leaving a dusting of flour. “Senora, I think we should search again. You take the path through the gardens and I'll follow the trail to the stables. At least we will be doing something.”

Royall sighed with relief. “Of course, I agree. I was about to suggest something myself. I feel as though my head is going to explode. Are you sure, Elena, that Moriah didn't know anything?”

“Quite sure, Senora Banner. She was working, exactly what she was supposed to be doing. Please, you must take my word, the child knew nothing. The only thing I succeeded in doing was alarming the little one. I had no choice,” she said defensively.

“I know that, Elena. It's just that I'm so worried. I feel as though I want to go in a dozen different directions. We separate here. Call out if you find them.” Elena nodded.

Her eyes clouded with worry and apprehension, Royall trudged this way and that, her eyes searching the thick, jungle greenery. It was quiet, too quiet. She didn't like the stillness. A shrill, squawking bird flew overhead, making Royall gasp in fright. Time and again she called to the children. Her cries went unanswered. Faintly, she could hear Elena calling the children from the opposite direction. Apparently, she wasn't having any luck either. Royall followed the path to the spring. There was no one about. She circled back, calling the girls over and over.

A speck of color near a large, leafy bush caught her eye. It looked like Rosy's favorite hair ribbon. She called out again. This time she stood perfectly still and waited, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Was that a sound? Tilting her head to the side, she concentrated with every fiber of her being. There it was again, the soft mewing of a cat. Dejectedly, she parted the foliage and peered into the dimness, expecting to see the large tabby with a litter of newborn kittens. Two pairs of eyes stared into her startled gaze. “Rosy, Nessie! Thank God! I was so worried about you. Didn't you hear me call you? Shame on you for playing a trick on me. Now tell me, why didn't you call out when you heard me searching for you?”

Silence.

“Come along now, it's almost dinnertime and Elena needs you to help in the kitchen. She's been searching for you, too.”

Neither child moved. Royall bent down to stare at the little girls. Nessie looked frightened to death. Rosy, always bright, cheerful, and inquisitive, stared straight ahead, her eyes dull and unseeing. Nessie had a protective grip around Rosy's shoulders. Royall's chest roared in panic. “Wh ... what . . . what's wrong?” she managed finally past the lump in her throat.

Silence.

She knew.

Gently, Royall pried Nessie's stiff fingers from Rosy's shoulders. “It's all right, Nessie, I'll take care of her. You must move a little. I know you've been protecting her, but I'll take care of her. Trust me,” she whispered. “Please, little one, trust me.” Obediently, Nessie slid back to afford Royall leverage to pick up the blank-faced child. Her movements awkward, Royall gathered Rosy in her arms and backed from the shrubbery onto the wide path. Gently, she laid her burden down onto the well-worn trail. Brilliant sunshine made her blink after the dimness of the dense undergrowth.

Rosy appeared dazed, completely unaware of her surroundings. Royall waved a slender hand in front of Rosy's eyes. There was no response.

Her suspicions demanded an immediate response. Questioningly, she looked at Nessie. “Did Rosy fall, is that how she got hurt?” In her heart she knew that no fall would have caused the dead look on the little girl's face. “Nessie, go at once and fetch Elena. She's searching for you near the stables.” The child remained still. “Nessie, you have to fetch Elena. Do it for Rosy. Now!” she commanded sternly.

“No, Senora. You take care of Rosy?” Nessie said stubbornly.

“All right. I asked you to trust me, so I want you to know that I'm doing the best I can. I have to be truthful with you. I don't know what to do for Rosy. I do have an idea, though. Go to the stable and fetch me my horse. You can do that for me, can't you? I'll take Rosy to her mother on Senor Rivera's plantation. You too, child. This place is no longer safe for either of you. Can you do it, Nessie, can you fetch the horse?”

The little shoulders set. “I can do. You wait.” She scampered off and was back in an instant. “You no say about Moriah?” Again the voice was stubborn, defying Royall to give a negative answer.

“I promise to bring Moriah tomorrow to Senor Rivera's plantation. Right now, it is imperative, very important, that you two get there as quickly as possible. I promise that I'll fetch Moriah tomorrow. Please, Nessie, you must trust me.” Royall wanted to scream as the child stared at her, debating what she should do.

“Not lie?”

“Not a lie! Hurry, Nessie, oh, please hurry. Don't let anyone see you. Run!”

For what seemed like hours Royall sat in the clearing stroking Rosy's head and crooning soft words of comfort. When she thought she couldn't stand it a second longer, Nessie walked down the path, leading not one but two horses.

“Two,” Nessie said holding up two pudgy fingers. “We three. Need two horses. I steal.”

“Can you ride, Nessie?”

Nessie grimaced. “Not so good. I bring old horse for me. He walk slow. I hold on tight.”

Royall's mind raced as her mare trotted behind Nessie and the old horse. Should she go to Sebastian, or should she take Rosy directly to her mother? She firmly decided that a mother was what Rosy needed more than anything in the world, no matter how kind and compassionate Sebastian might be.

Within an hour she was in sight of the clearing that housed Sebastian's Indians. As before, the women came from all directions. They said nothing as their dark eyes watched the two riders approach. Gradually, the crowd thinned before the determined strides of a tall Indian woman who approached from the rear. She stared at Nessie and then at Rosy. Her long arms reached out to gather Rosy from Royall's tight embrace. Gently, she held the child against her breast and cradled the small dark head in her hands. Tears fell from her eyes as she rocked Rosy back and forth like a newborn babe. The jet black eyes, tear filled, looked into the face of her child. She saw. She did not believe.

A giant of a man stepped forward to take the child from her mother's arms. It must be Rosy's father, Royall thought. Suddenly, there was a babble of voices. Dark-skinned fingers pointed to Rosy's bare little leg. Royall watched in horror as the child's mother traced the dark rivulet of blood that was almost indistinguishable against the dark skin of the child. Slowly she lifted the child's skirt and then turned to look at the man holding Rosy. She nodded slightly. A deathly stillness settled over the clearing. Royall fought the urge to scream. The crowd dispersed. Rosy was safe. There was nothing she could do for the little girl now.

Royall's eyes went to Nessie, who sat patiently atop the old horse. “Now it's your turn, little one. Follow me, I'm going to take you to your new home and your mother.”

“My mother?” Nessie said in awe.

“Yes, your mother. I should have done it long ago. Your mother. Some day God will forgive me for not taking matters into my own hands.”

Nessie frowned. “You tell Father Juan. He forgive you. Con . . . conf ... confession,” she said triumphantly.

“That's the simple way, Nessie. First, I have to forgive myself. Come along now, and let's not keep your mother waiting another moment for the sight of your beautiful face.”

The courtyard was empty. Royall frowned, not sure if she was happy or disappointed that Sebastian was nowhere about. Right now she really had no desire to see Sebastian's hard, cold, jet black eyes that looked into her soul. Better he should be absent. At the sound of the horses' hooves, Anna ran from the house. One startled glance at Nessie made her pick up her skirts and race to the old worn-out horse, her arms outstretched. Her eyes sought Royall, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. Royall nodded. “I brought her to you. She's to remain with you. She's your daughter and she belongs to you. I am truly sorry I . . . Love her, Anna, she deserves it.”