Each Time We Love (55 page)

WHEN
ADAM REGAINED HIS SENSES the next morning—at least he
assumed it was the next morning, since the sun was shining—it was to
find himself once again in the ignominious position of being tied
across the back of a horse. The brandy he had drunk last night, coupled
with the less-than-gentle kiss of Micajah's club, had given him a
damned devilish headache. Gritting his teeth against the pounding ache
in his temples, he tried to take his bearings.

It proved an impossibility, his view of the world being
predominantly the ground alongside the horse and a slight forward and
rear angle. It was apparent, however, that he was Micajah's
only
prisoner, and the blind terror that Savanna might also have met with a
similar fate lessened.

He was, he guessed, in one of the many swampy areas which
abounded in lower Louisiana and he caught occasional glimpses of
palmetto leaves and the knobby knees of bald cypress. He also, with
even less enthusiasm, caught sight of several alligators sunning
themselves along the edges of the murky bayou Micajah seemed to be
following and he shuddered, hoping Micajah didn't plan to feed him to
one of those snapping-jawed giants.

That Micajah intended to kill him was a foregone conclusion.
Adam's only confusion was the fact that he wasn't dead yet. Why was
Micajah keeping him alive?

He found out several hours later when Micajah finally halted
their horses where Jeremy was waiting for him. While Jeremy tied the
horses, Micajah loosened the bonds that held Adam to the horse and
threw him brutally on the ground. With his hands and feet still tightly
roped together, there was little Adam could do but attempt to struggle
into a sitting position.

Catching sight of Adam on the ground, Jeremy smiled nastily
and, leaving off his chore, promptly came over and gave Adam a swift,
vicious kick in the ribs.

"Seen any more snakes around, mister?" he demanded sourly, the
expression in his eyes making it clear that he hadn't forgotten Adam's
earlier ruse. Giving Adam another brutal kick, this one at the side of
his head, he muttered, "Why, I think I saw one just now!"

Coldly Adam regarded his tormentor. "You could be right, but
then again, could be
I'm
looking at a two-legged
snake myself."

Jeremy started to kick him again, but Micajah growled, "Leave
him be and help me get these horses unsaddled. We'll have time enough
for him later."

Grumbling, after shooting a sullen look at Adam, Jeremy
followed Micajah's orders and began to take care of the horses.

Propping himself up against a tree, Adam looked around, but
beyond confirming that he was deep in a swamp, he had no idea where he
was. He and his captors were on a narrow spit of land surrounded on
three sides by a seemingly endless body of brackish water, the surface
covered with scummy green growth. Tall, gnarled cypress draped with
ghostly gray-green Spanish moss loomed up intermittently from the murky
depths as far as the eye could see. Behind him there was nothing but
the junglelike growth of the swampy forest, and he wondered grimly if
this was to be his last resting place.

A fire was burning merrily in the center of the camp, and from
the confident air about Micajah and Jeremy, Adam easily surmised that
this was a place they were very familiar with and that they didn't
expect any retaliation, either. His mouth twisted. Micajah seemed to
have planned well.

Sipping a cup of coffee, Micajah walked over to Adam just
then. Smiling down at him, the pale blue eyes gleaming with
satisfaction, he asked genially, "Want to know why you're still alive?"

Adam shrugged. "You'll tell me when you're good and ready."

Micajah grinned, nodding his shaggy head. "Think you're a
smart fellow, don't you? Tricking ole Micajah that way Making a fool
out of me. Making me believe that you were really Jason Savage when
you're only his brother-in-law, Adam St. Clair." Squatting down beside
Adam, Micajah took another drink of his coffee. "Can't blame you much
for pretending to be Savage—I'd have done the same thing—but as for
marrying Savanna…"

His amiable mood vanished and something ugly flickered behind
his blue eyes. "Now, I just can't have that! I alwus figured that me
and Savanna would pair up—once she got used to the idea." He shot Adam
a sly look. "Still figure it that way."

"So why am I still alive?" Adam asked coolly.

"Ah! Now that's a good question," Micajah responded evenly.
"You see, you're my bait… it was too risky to search the house for
Savanna last night, but I left her a little note___"

Adam stiffened. "A note?" he said with commendable composure
in spite of the fear and rage that was rioting through his deceptively
lax body.

"Yeah! A note." Taking another sip of coffee, Micajah glanced
around. "This here place is known as Gatorhead." He pointed to a
half-rotted stump at the edge of the swamp. "Used to be a great big ole
gator head nailed to that stump. Only one way into this place, and
that's the way we came in. Lot of us fellows from Crow's Nest used to
hide out here— Savanna came with Bodene once or twice when he'd bring
in supplies. Of course, that was a long time ago, before he got all
respectable and when Savanna was just a child, but she won't have no
trouble finding her way."

His dark blue eyes mocking, Adam asked interestedly, "And why
would Savanna want to come to Gatorhead?"

Micajah smiled odiously. "Why, to rescue you, of course!"

Adam's heart sank. But it wasn't because Savanna
wouldn't
come after him that had caused his heart to sink and a feeling of
helpless anger to surge in his veins; what he feared was that she
would
come after him! She might very well want to skewer him herself, but
she'd never allow even her worst enemy to remain in Micajah's cruel
hands. Keeping his features bland, he replied calmly, "Which still
doesn't explain why I'm still alive. You could have killed me at any
time, but you didn't. Why?"

"Well, now, you see, Savanna don't exactly trust me," Micajah
said in all seriousness. "She wouldn't jest take my word for it that
I'd release you once she came to me—she'd want to see you, to convince
herself you really were alive." He smiled happily at Adam. "She thinks
I'm going to do a trade—you for her!"

"But you're not going to, are you?" Adam murmured softly, his
mouth curved in a humorless smile.

"The instant you get your hands on her, you're going to kill
me."

Micajah nodded, pleased that Adam grasped the situation. "Yep!
I surely am! Got it all figured out."

This time it was Adam's turn to nod his head. "Seems that way."

Enjoying himself hugely, Micajah said with obvious relish,
"I've been looking to kill you for a long time… even before you played
that trick on me, pretending to be Jason Savage."

Adam's brows snapped together in a frown. "Before? But you
didn't know me before then!"

"Knew
of
you!" Micajah replied smugly.
"Met a fellow in a tavern on Silver Street in the spring—blond,
fancy-faced dandy—and he paid me good money to kill you. Half then and
half when the job was done. Thing is, you had already left Natchez to
go visit your brother-in-law." Micajah beamed at him. "When you're dead
I'll not only have Savanna, but I'll get the rest of my money!"

Adam had no trouble identifying the man who had paid to have
him killed—Charles Asher. He took small comfort from the fact that
Micajah was not likely to collect the rest of his money; Asher was, no
doubt, as good at double-crossing as Micajah. His lips quirked in a wry
smile. "Like you said, you've got it all figured out."

Annoyed by Adam's unruffled demeanor, Micajah scowled and, his
eyes hard, he muttered darkly, "And don't forget it! Savanna'll be
along directly and then you're going to be gator bait!"

Lying there bound on the ground, helpless to protect himself
or the woman he loved, Adam could only pray that Savanna would discard
Micajah's note… that she'd still be so outraged from his reckless
lovemaking that she wouldn't risk her life in a fruitless bargain…

It wasn't until nearly noon the next day that Adam's
disappearance was discovered. No one had seriously thought that Micajah
would strike so swiftly, and the assumption had been made by the others
that Adam had simply gone to bed late the previous evening without
seeing anyone. Even his absence the next morning was not remarkable—
either he was sleeping late or he was probably busy in his study. No
one even considered that he had already been kidnapped by Micajah.
Bodene's arrival just before noon changed all that.

After greeting Savanna and her mother and exchanging a few
hurried words with Jack and Toby, Bodene, his brow furrowed with worry,
immediately went in search of Adam. Uneasy when he could find no trace
of Micajah and Jeremy in New Orleans, he had ridden to Campo de Verde
with a strong sense of urgency. The fact that no one had seen Adam
since last night gave him a distinctly ominous sensation in the pit of
his belly.

He found the note that Micajah had left in Adam's study just a
few minutes later. He would have hidden it and taken matters into his
own hands, but Savanna had been right on his heels, and he had barely
read the message himself before she had snatched it from him.

From the moment they had entered the study, Savanna had known
Micajah had already struck. Even without the note she had instantly
guessed the significance of the shattered brandy snifter on the carpet
by Adam's desk, and of the open window, the floor wet from the rain
that had blown in by the storm. Her heart a leaden weight in her
breast, she read Micajah's untidy scrawl.

In a dull voice, she muttered, "Have someone get me a horse.
I'll have to change into riding gear, but I should be able to leave
within the hour."

Bodene's mouth tightened. "Don't be a fool, Savanna! It's a
trap and you know it!" Taking a deep breath, he said as gently as
possible, "He's probably already dead, my dear. Micajah is unlikely to
have kept him alive."

Savanna's bright head jerked up at that and, her aquamarine
eyes blazing, she spat,
"Don't say that!
I'll not
listen. Adam is alive!
He has to be!"

"All right," Bodene said harshly, "perhaps he is, but do you
really think that Micajah is going to keep his word?" He grabbed her
shoulders and shook her roughly. "It's a trap, Savanna! You cannot ride
coolly into Micajah's camp!"

Savanna's chin jutted at a stubborn angle, causing Bodene to
swear and desperately try another tactic. "If Adam is still alive," he
said sharply, "the only thing that is
keeping
him
alive is the fact that Micajah doesn't have you! You give yourself to
Micajah, and your husband is going to be dead within seconds. Think
about that!"

Everything Bodene said made sense; she'd already come to those
same terrifying conclusions herself, but she also knew that she had to
take the risk: she
had
to try to save the man she
loved! If Adam was alive. In order to preserve her own sanity, she had
to believe that he was; she didn't let Bodene sway her. Bodene was
motivated as much by cool logic as by a powerful instinct to protect
her and Savanna knew that he would never let her follow Micajah's
instructions. He would unwittingly further endanger Adam's life by
coming up with another plan, one that would involve her remaining
safely here at Campo de Verde while he rode off to save Adam. She
smiled bitterly. The only problem with that plan was that Bodene had
forgotten just how vicious and devious Micajah could be. Micajah would
have figured on that eventuality and taken precautions, and Bodene and
Adam would
both
die! The
only
chance Adam had was for her to go to Micajah! But first she had to
prevent Bodene from stopping her…

Her gaze fell on the heavy crystal decanter on the corner of
Adam's desk. Grimly she knew what she had to do at the first
opportunity. Playing for time, she said reasonably, "Very well. What do
you suggest?"

Bodene stared at her suspiciously. Savanna stared serenely
back.

"If you're serious," he began slowly, "you can tell Jack and
Toby to saddle up the horses and see that we have the necessary
supplies."

She nodded docilely. "Of course. Anything else?"

Still suspicious, but distracted by thoughts of how he was
going to save Adam, Bodene glanced away. Bending over Adam's desk, he
started to rummage around for some paper. "While you're doing that,
I'll—"

Having given herself no time to think, Savanna had snatched up
the decanter and brought it down squarely on Bodene's head. He dropped
like a stone, his big body sprawling on the floor in front of the desk.

"Oh, God, Bodene," she uttered miserably as she stared down at
his limp body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't let you stop me.
Forgive me!"

Hoping fervently that he would suffer nothing worse than a
slight headache when he awoke, Savanna glanced around desperately for
something with which to tie him up. Spying several pieces of tack lying
near the door of the study, she pounced upon a pair of reins in the
pile, then quickly tied Bodene's feet and hands. His cravat made an
excellent gag-Wasting not a second more, she hurried from the room,
stopping abruptly when she almost ran full tilt into Jack Mooney coming
down the hall. Smiling artlessly, she inquired breathlessly, "Did you
want to see Bodene or Adam?" Jack nodded.

Her expression regretful, she murmured, "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope
it's not important, but they asked me specifically to tell everyone
that they don't want to be disturbed for a few hours. Could it wait?"

Jack shrugged. "Whatever Bodene says. Guess we'll just
continue to patrol outside the house."

Savanna flashed him a dazzling smile. "Yes. That's an
excellent idea!"