Laura Kinsale (4 page)

“…after Lady Tess is safely married.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gryf acknowledged, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm. “You’re more than generous.”

“Call it an incentive, Captain. I don’t ask questions about you, or about your ship—though we both know that I could if I wished. You’ve done the devil of a job for the earl, and I owe you that much, whatever you decide. I understand you have no personal feelings for her, having only met this evening, but I hope you will give the proposition serious consideration. She has need of you. Think on it tonight. I’ll be on the dock in the morning with a contract, if you care to sign it.”

T
ess finished the last line of a long passage from the Sermon on the Mount. She had fully absorbed herself in the reading, successfully blocking out her surroundings and the unwelcome thoughts that had accompanied them. She was glad to have read; she felt much more relaxed than she had earlier, and the lines Mrs. Campbell had chosen brought a pleasant peacefulness to Tess’s agitated soul. “Consider the lilies of the field…” What better guidance could be offered? She was too worried about the future. Let it come; she would open her heart to newer joys.

As her voice trailed into silence, she closed the book and looked up. She started slightly, realizing that the men had come quietly into the room while she had been reading. Captain Frost stood nearest the door with the ghost of a smile on his lips. It disappeared so quickly that Tess might have imagined it.

“Lovely, my dear,” Mr. Taylor said heartily, amid a general murmur of agreement. “Will you continue?”

Seized by a sudden shyness, Tess demurred. Mr. Taylor did not seem at all disappointed, but immediately suggested a game of whist pitting the Campbells against
the Taylors. No one but Tess appeared to realize that this scheme left the captain and herself with no entertainment but each other. She looked toward Mrs. Taylor in appeal, but the consul’s wife was already engaged in hunting a pack of cards from a drawer in the credenza.

As the four players gathered at the card table, Mr. Taylor said carelessly, “Didn’t you mention an interest in Lady Collier’s animal collection, Captain? Perhaps she would be so kind as to show you her little zoo.”

Tess saw the brief surprise in the captain’s countenance. He recovered rapidly, but a glance that seemed oddly intense passed between the two men before Captain Frost turned to Tess and said he hoped she would do him the favor.

She swallowed down the anxiety that leaped into her throat. It was impossible to deny such a request, made by her host and reinforced by a guest. She realized that she was clasping her hands together in a nervous rhythm; she forced herself to still them and said, “Of course. Will you wait a moment, while I find a lamp?”

“Take this one, dear,” Mrs. Taylor said, with a small wave of her trembling hand. “The gas is just over the card table, and we won’t need more light.”

Tess stood, lifting the oil lamp from the table next to her chair. She gave the captain a brief, nervous smile and led him into the hallway, acutely aware of the sound of his footsteps close behind her.

The animals were housed in a small shed in the rear of the garden. The term “garden” was more hopeful than realistic, for the space was a chaotic growth of vigorous plants and trees which refused to follow any order or reason but their own. Tess loved it. The fragrance of frangipani lay heavy on the still night air, and little rustlings and insect noises greeted them as they stepped outside. The light from the oil lamp was a small
spark in the black tangle, and the shed loomed up unexpectedly from the shadows.

Tess heard the low whining from inside the building even before she lifted the latch. Frowning, she stood back to let the captain enter and followed him inside. The lamp threw grotesque shadows on the walls, and a monkey gave a startled screech, setting off a jumble of croaks and frightened calls. Tess touched the captain’s arm and raised her voice above the din. “They’ll settle down in a moment. Is there anything in particular you would like to see?”

The question seemed to leave him at a loss. As the menagerie quieted, he glanced around randomly and asked, “What’s that?”

On the near wall, above the stacked cages, Tess had hung a smooth-sanded board. Stretched on the wood was a brightly banded snakeskin.

“Micrurus,”
she said. “A coral snake. One of the neighborhood children brought it yesterday. He wanted me to mount it.” She realized suddenly how strange such an explanation would seem and shrugged self-consciously. “I know skinning snakes isn’t a very…ladylike talent, but I suppose I’m rather good at it.”

He looked at her with a peculiar expression. “I’m sure you are.”

Tess blushed hotly. He must think her barbaric. She bit her lip and turned away quickly, setting the lamp on a crate before she bent to open a cage. She spoke quietly to the hissing jaguar kit inside. The small black animal pressed backward in fright, but Tess waited with hand outstretched until the kitten nosed her suspiciously. Recognizing his adopted mother, the kitten squeaked happily and began a hoarse purr as Tess carefully lifted the little ball of sleek fur into the light. Tiny claws pricked at her fingers.

“This is Victoria,” she said. “A planter shot her mother for raiding his pigs. I really don’t want to take her home, but she’s too young to be released.”

The captain looked at the wriggling animal with interest. Despite herself, Tess was pleased to see a smile curve his lips as he reached out one careful finger to stroke the kitten’s silken head. The grin was appealingly boyish, all the more so in contrast to his earlier severity, and she felt her own lips turn upward in automatic response.

“Victoria,” he said pensively. “She’s beautiful. Such black hair, and green eyes…like—”

Tess looked up curiously at the half-finished sentence, but he did not go on. He seemed very intent on scratching behind the kitten’s ears. They stood without speaking, and Tess became aware again of the low, unhappy whine which emanated from the far corner of the hut.

“Now, who is that in trouble?” she wondered, and bent to return the jaguar to its cage before she turned back to the captain. “Please—may I have the lamp?”

He followed her as she carried the lamp toward the source of the sound. Tess knelt, frowning into the cage where the baby sloth usually hung contentedly upside down from its perch, munching on leaves. At first she could not see the animal, though its plaintive whimpers were clear enough. She finally recognized it cowering among a pile of fresh vegetation at the far corner of the small cage.

“I hope he isn’t ill,” she said fretfully. “He seemed perfectly all right this evening, when I checked.” She held the lamp closer, trying to see the sloth. It blinked slowly in the light and ceased its whine. Tess reached with her free hand to open the cage.

“Lady Collier.” Something in the captain’s quiet voice made her stop. She turned to look at him, her arm still
outstretched, and found herself staring down the barrel of a Colt revolver.

She froze. The ominous click of the cocking mechanism was loud in the unnatural silence. She opened her mouth, but his deadly calm words silenced her. “Set down the lamp.”

Her glance flicked downward. Her hand was unsteady, and the light threw weird, dancing shadows on the walls. Close by her side, something moved, a thin, vertical shape that didn’t belong among the familiar objects inside the shed. She looked at the moving apparition from the corner of her eye. Something in the shadow gleamed, as cold as the metal of the captain’s gun. Horror rose in her throat like a sudden, choking hand.

“Jararaca,”
she whispered, naming the deadly snake that seemed to sway with awful leisure inches from her arm. She was trapped, as helpless as the baby sloth, too close to escape before the serpent could strike. As she looked, the snake’s movement quickened into jerky spasms. She drew in a sobbing breath of anticipation.

“The lamp,” Captain Frost repeated.

With the numbing clarity of terror, Tess realized it was the movement of her own hand that caused the snake to seem active. Its shadow vibrated on the wall behind; the dark serpent itself was perfectly still, poised to strike in macabre silence. She could even see its eyes, glittering like unholy stars in the lamplight. Her breath and heart seemed to stop. From some unknown place inside of her came the ability to move: she lowered the lamp with painful slowness until it rested firmly on the dirt floor. The shadows ceased to dance, and the snake stood out from the background with sinister reality.

“Thank you,” the captain said. Tess could not suppress a hysterical giggle at the incongruous politeness.
The wild sound burst out of her in a startled cry as the revolver erupted, filling the hut with a thunderous crash. In the same instant, Tess was aware of a flipping motion where the snake had been. She stumbled backward, brushing frantically at the headless reptilian body that landed across her arm. The snake fell to the ground, thrashing convulsively amid a riot of animal noise.

Tess stood gasping, unable to tear her eyes from the writhing shape. She was vaguely aware of the captain’s arm around her, pulling her against him in an embrace that seemed intoxicatingly safe. She turned into his shoulder and hid her face for a long, blank minute, not thinking, not feeling, aware of nothing but the solid warmth of him, until voices rose above the sound of the animals as the Taylors and Campbells crashed through the dark garden to the hut.

Mr. Taylor reached the shed first. Tess looked up as the door slammed open and his hoarse voice demanded to know what had happened. She saw him take in the twisted body of the snake, and then his eyes went to the revolver still in Captain Frost’s hand. The consul’s whiskered face broke into a fierce grin. He whooped, adding to the general tumult, and turned to pull Mr. Campbell into the hut.

“Look at that, my man!” Mr. Taylor bellowed. “Good God, what a shot.” He kicked at the snake. “Right in the head, and in this light. You couldn’t have done better yourself, Lady Tess!”

Tess straightened, suddenly embarrassed by her weakness. She stepped away from the captain and looked down at the dead reptile. The two older ladies and a Negro gardener had crowded inside. More voices chattered in excitement beyond the door. The noise of animals and humans rose to deafening proportions.
Tess had a vision of the silent moment before the gunshot, that instant of pure terror: the black shadows dancing, the snake poised above her offered arm and the revolver aimed at her head. As she thought of it, the noise seemed to roll over her like a wave, and the dark confines of the hut closed in. She felt oddly weightless, a peculiar, dreamlike sensation. The snake lost importance, the voices faded. She turned instinctively back toward the haven of the captain’s arms.

It felt like a blink, but when she opened her eyes, everything had changed. She was no longer in the dim-lit hut; a gas lamp gave a cool, bright light to the white-washed walls that moved past in the rhythmic bounce. Her arm hurt, and she slowly understood that she was being carried: the pain came from the tight grip around her shoulders. She looked up at Captain Frost’s face, at his mouth set in a firm line against the effort of holding her, and began to struggle.

He gave her a sideways glance, and hefted her into a more secure position. “Almost there,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“What are you—Why are you carrying me?” she demanded. She arched, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “Put me down.”

He ignored her, pausing to look over his shoulder. Mrs. Taylor’s voice came from close behind him. “To the right, Captain. The first door.”

The ceiling spun above Tess, and she recognized her own room. The captain deposited her gently on the large suspended hammock that served as a bed and pushed her back firmly when she started to rise. She protested vigorously. He leaned close to her ear and said in a soft voice, “You’ll ruin my heroic image if you stand up so soon from a faint.”

Tess looked up in confusion and saw his lurking smile. “I didn’t faint!” she exclaimed. “I never faint!”

“Oh.” The smile deepened perceptibly. “My mistake.”

Tess struggled to a sitting position, but this time it was Mrs. Taylor who restrained her. “Rest a moment, dear. You’ve had a shock.”

“I have not.” Tess flushed crimson with shame at the captain’s evident amusement. She rolled away from him, curling herself into a ball. In a muffled voice, she cried, “I’m not afraid of a snake, so you needn’t laugh at me, Captain Frost!”

“Lady Tess!” Mrs. Taylor protested.

In her mortification, Tess curled tighter. She could not face the captain’s derisive laughter at her weakness. When no laughter came, she snapped, “Leave me alone. I’m quite all right. I thought it was all the fashion in England, to swoon over nothing. I’m sorry you find it so funny when I do it.”

There was a disconcerted silence behind her. Tess felt hot, unreasonable tears leak from beneath her lids. She rolled over and bounced to her feet, facing them defiantly. Mrs. Taylor looked upset. Her hands were trembling visibly, which made Tess feel even worse. She turned on the captain, ready to blame him for everything, including her own perversity. “I know I’m ridiculous,” she cried. “I’m sure you think I’m an unmannerly clod, and I am. I don’t know how to dress my hair, and I don’t know any clever gossip, and I’m sure that I bore you exceedingly, but I’m not afraid of snakes, and I
don’t faint!
”

“Lady Tess!” Mrs. Taylor said again. Tess heard the note of accusation in the older woman’s voice. “Captain Frost may well have saved your life!”

“So,” Tess said wildly, “perhaps he shouldn’t have
bothered! I’m sure polite society would have muddled along quite well without me.”

“Oh, don’t say such things!” Mrs. Taylor was near tears herself.

“It’s true.” The words tumbled from Tess before she could control them. “I might as well be a naked Indian. That’s what everyone will think of me. Ask the captain what he thinks of a lady who skins snakes for a past-time!” She bit her trembling lip, remembering the feel of him, the way he had held her close. She longed to throw herself into his arms again and beg him not to despise her for this stupid tantrum, for her ingratitude, for her clumsy manners and unfeminine ways.

“I was hoping,” he said slowly, “that the lady would skin my snake. I’d like to hang it in my cabin.”

The quiet words took Tess by surprise. She looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“I’ve never shot one before, you see,” he added.

“Oh,” Tess said. She had the strange desire to giggle through her tears at the expression on his handsome face.

“I suppose you wouldn’t think it was anything,” he went on, as if compelled to justify himself. “They tell me you’ve shot thousands.”