Silver Moon (15 page)

“He won’t.” she looked at Hollingsby and saw his barely perceptible nod.

With that, Colleen left, a smile on her face, her pale eyes sparkling brightly.

Brace arrived at Devonairre well after sunset, unsaddled his horse, and walked toward the west wing and his parents’ apartment. Before he reached it, he saw that their windows were dark.

He had wanted to speak to his father and mother, to ask more questions and learn more of their past before he left, but he decided to wait until morning.

Skirting the main house, Brace went to the stone path leading to Bluefish Bay. As he walked, he stopped frequently to look at the nighttime shapes of the trees and plants lining the walk.

He had not taken half a dozen steps when he stopped; the sensation of someone watching him made the hairs at the nape of his neck stand out. He searched the shadows, but found nothing out of place. Shrugging, he started walking again, his mind once more fixed on his troubles.

He’d spent an endlessly introspective night and a long day thinking about his father’s tale and of the true state of his birth. Yet no matter how much he pondered the vagaries of fate, he wondered if what his father told him mattered.
It must
, he decided, because Brace knew how costly his father’s admission had been.

Now that he was back at Devonairre, he wondered if he could face Elyse with the same strength his father had shown him and tell her that he was indeed going. Suddenly he was remembering the way she had walked so regally from the gazebo. With that image, he knew he must go to her and tell her his heart.

Did the knowledge that he was not a debtor’s son make any difference? Would the inhabitants of Jamaica look upon them any differently if he were to stay with Elyse?

No
, he told himself. They would still sneer and shun them like lepers.
How could he allow Elyse to be a part of that?

As he thought these things, he also realized that he was doing more than making a decision for himself. He was making Elyse’s decision, too.

Brace tried to rationalize his emotions by believing that what he was doing was for the best; but in the back of his mind, a thread of doubt wove its way into the very foundation of his willpower and resolution.

For too many years, he’d watched the high and mighty planters go about their lives, making decisions for all those who worked for them and those who lived with them.

They were the God-players he had sworn not to emulate. Yet now he found himself doing exactly the same thing. He was deciding not only his future, but Elyse’s as well.

Am I any different from them
?

Knowing he had been highborn did him little good when he could not lay claim to it. Yet the knowledge served an important purpose—it had made him rethink many of his older, more deeply ingrained opinions.

He looked back on the many aspects of his twenty-seven years, picturing the differences between the planters and himself, between his father and the other men on the island, and realized the status of his birth made no difference. With a sudden and foreign easing of his mind, Brace understood the one thing he had never before allowed himself to think about; that he was an individual, a person with his own mind, unbound by the rules of a society he despised. His father had shown him this, in the way he had raised him, loved him, and educated him to the world.

Turning, he looked back at the main house, his eyes seeking Elyse’s bedroom windows. The house was dark, no lights shone, but he found her windows and let his gaze rest upon them. For an instant, he thought he saw a light flicker in her window, the low, fluttering glow of a candle. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he knew he had been mistaken.

Go to her now!

He heard a branch snap behind him and whirled at the sound. Stiffening, he stared unbelievingly at the sight that greeted his eyes.

“Hello, Brace,” Colleen whispered.

“What do you want?” Brace asked, forcing his voice to stay level.

“All I’ve ever wanted…you.”

“No, Colleen—”

She closed the distance between them before he could say more, and pressed herself to him. Her arms locked around his body, trapping his arms to his sides. Her lips covered his neck with kisses. “Please, Brace, don’t turn me away again. I love you.”

Flexing his arms, he broke the lock she held on him. Then, grasping her shoulders, he held her at arm’s length. “No, Coleen, we are done.”

She snarled and pushed toward him. He flinched at the ugly caricature of what had once been an alluring woman. Her face was a mask twisted with hatred. Where once gentle planes graced her features, only harsh and angular lines remained. Her drawn back lips bared her teeth animal-like, and her breathing came in sharp gasps. Her eyes were wild, shifting everywhere, never staying still.

“Do you think she can offer you more than me?”

Brace remained silent, refusing to reply.

“She’s gentry! You’re dirt beneath her boots. You’ll be nothing but a stud from her stable, trained to her ways. She’ll use you, Brace, and then she’ll throw you away. That’s the rules for people like us, and you know it as fact!”

Brace stared at her, his rage growing dangerously near breaking point. Yet within him, the denial of her words were a soothing balm. What she had said might have been the truth, had it been directed toward any but Elyse. As quickly as his anger had flared, it went away.

It was Colleen herself, with her heated, angry words, who made his own thoughts race like lightning. While he stared at her in disbelief, the decision he had been wrestling with for the past two days merged with all the tortured thoughts he had been thinking only moments before. His doubts about Elyse and himself fled, and the road to his future emerged clear. Any decision must be one reached together—shared equally between them.

In the midst of this strange confrontation with Colleen, a smile softened the stone edges of his mouth.

Seeing this, Colleen stiffened and grew even angrier. “You’re making a mistake, Brace. Damn you, this was your last chance! Now you’ll have nothing!”

“Nothing is what I would have with you,” Brace told her. His words held the cutting edge of finality.

Colleen took another step back. She stopped, her head cocked to the side as if she were listening for something. Then she began to laugh. The laugh turned into a loud, braying sound, and she shook her head from side to side.

*****

After sharing a light dinner with Ann, Elyse went to her rooms, bathed, and went to bed. Although the hour was early, the lack of sleep over the past two nights weighed heavily on her body. As she lay in the bed, she stared at the ceiling, wondering if Brace were feeling the same way as she—lost and alone.

With thoughts of Brace swirling through her mind, Elyse fell into a light, troubled sleep. Just after midnight, her eyes snapped open.

Something had disturbed her sleep—a noise foreign to the normal night sounds of the plantation. She lay still, holding her breath and concentrating her senses within the room. Then the noise came again, and she knew it was a boot heel scraping the floor.

Alarmed, Elyse tried to leave the bed. Before she could, a hand covered her mouth, an arm snaked around her shoulders, and pulled her back, pinning her to a man’s chest.

With fear guiding her, Elyse bit at the hand. Rewarded by a shout of pain and the loosening of the grip, she spun free, slipped from between the man and her bed, and raced to her dresser. She opened the drawer and reached inside for the pistol Will McClintock had given her. Her fingers closed on the carved handle, but before she could fully grasp it, a hand snaked into her hair and pulled sharply back. The gun flew from her fingers and clattered across the floor.

“Bitch!” Jeremy Hollingsby growled as he spun her to face him and struck her across the cheek.

Stumbling, Elyse refused to let her body fall. She fought for balance, ignoring the sharp pain from his blow, and turned again, trying in vain to get away. Before she could take a full step, another set of arms trapped her from behind.

“Hello, Niece,” said Carl Sorrel.

Elyse sagged in his grip, her breathing cut off by the cruel tightening of his arms. A moment later Carl loosened his hold just enough for her to breathe.

She stared at Hollingsby’s shadowed face as he approached her; loathing made her eyes wide while she fought in vain to break free. Her uncle held her tight, and she was helpless to stop Hollingsby from gagging her with a long strip of material. Carl released her then. Before she could recover, he pulled her arms backward and quickly bound her wrists.

“Your foolish escapade is over, my dear fiancée. You are coming back to England as my wife.” Hollingsby laughed and his hand whipped out, catching her long black hair and pulling her face close to his. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you had run away from me. But I do know better. And I know that when I’m finished with you, you will want no other man!”

Without another word, he dragged Elyse out of the house and to the carriage where Elizabeth Sorrel waited, a pistol held at the ready in case anyone should happen to stumble upon them.

After pushing Elyse into the carriage, and then waiting for Elizabeth and Carl to get in, Hollingsby picked up a stone from the drive. With purposeful deliberation, he threw it at the front of the house.

It struck the stone facade with a dull thud. The sound it made wasn’t too loud, just loud enough.

Then he climbed up next to the driver and raised his hand. A few seconds later, he heard a strange sound rise in the air and signaled the driver on.

Elyse, pressed into the corner while Elizabeth climbed in next to her, forced herself to think clearly.

Trapped, she refused to go without a fight. Her eyes darted everywhere, trying to find something, anything to help her. A small piece of metal protruded from the door latch a few inches from her face.

When the carriage started, everyone bounced backwards. In that moment, she pushed her face toward the metal and caught the gag on it. Jerking her head back quickly, ignoring the pain from the material as it bit into her neck, she pulled her head up. The gag slipped from her mouth.

The second it was free, she screamed out Brace’s name. The sound was loud and piercing, but before she could call his name a second time, Carl was upon her, his fist striking her on the chin. The searing pain from the blow disappeared as darkness took her.

“Stop it!” Brace ordered.

Colleen’s laughter ended as suddenly as it had begun. With her narrowed eyes on him, her mouth was a tight-cutting slash in her face. “It’s over now,” she said.

Again, she cocked her head to the side and stayed like that for a moment. “Yes, it’s over, and you’ve lost everything—me…and her! Good-bye, Brace.”

Just as Colleen turned away, a loud, penetrating scream shattered the night. Brace, hearing his name and instinctively knowing it was Elyse, spun toward the house. When he did, the sound of a rolling carriage reverberated in the air.

Without looking back, Brace started forward. On his second step, a lance of pain exploded above his ear. Darkness descended. His head spun, but he managed to stay on his feet. Turning, barely able to focus his eyes, he found Colleen holding a broken branch above her head, her eyes wild.

“Damn you!” she screamed.

Before he could raise his arms to protect himself, Colleen struck. The branch arched downward. The wood hit him fully this time. The blackness took him instantly.

*****

Brace rose from beneath the foggy layers that tried to keep him under. Sitting up, he forced away the nausea and dizziness and took several deep breaths. He tried to figure out why he was lying on the stone path, and as he did, the memory of last night washed through him.

Rage erupted. He used it to force himself to stand. His head throbbed painfully. He rubbed his head with his right hand and felt a wet lump. When he lowered it, there was blood on his fingers.

Brace looked around. The sun was just starting to rise, and the sky was clear and cloudless. “Elyse!” he cried, but he knew there would be no reply.

Stupid
, he thought, unable to forgive himself for letting harm come to her. Forcing his muscles to obey him, Brace ran toward the house. He flew up the steps, raced through the entryway, and climbed the semi-circular staircase to the second floor. He stopped only when he reached her open door.

“You’ve lost everything—me…her!” As the memory of Colleen’s words rose maddeningly in his head, Brace fought the fear that held his mind in thrall.

In the space of a single breath, Brace remembered how the strange scene with Colleen last night had made him see how strong his love for Elyse was, and how deep his need. Now, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, he realized life without Elyse would be no life at all.

His eyes flicked everywhere before he stepped inside. He looked at the empty four-poster bed and saw the signs of struggle in the disheveled covers. On his second step, the toe of his boot struck an object and sent it clattering across the floor.

He froze again as he watched the glinting brass-tooled dueling pistol spin across the floor. A dim memory of years past told him that it was Harlan Louden’s dueling pistol.

With the sickening, wrenching feeling spiraling even more wildly through him, Brace looked around the room and read the story of what had happened. His eyes went to the dresser; the top drawer was open. Brace knew the pistol had come from that very drawer. One corner of the oriental carpet was turned back, as if dragging feet had caught it.

“Why?” he mumbled.

Darkness tried to overtake his mind. Not the darkness of unconsciousness, but the darkness of a rage so powerful, so all consuming, that it threatened to take his very sanity. He fought the building rage that threatened to explode and knew he had to do something. Shaking his head, he drew in several deep breaths, knowing that to give in to his emotions would solve nothing. He wanted to ride after the carriage, to find Elyse and bring her back. Yet, without knowing where they were taking her, or why, it would do neither him nor Elyse any good.

Controlling the deadly rage that was still vying for possession of him, Brace walked out of the bedroom.

*****

“Stay still!” Ann commanded when Brace flinched from beneath the cloth she was patting across his scalp.

Ignoring her, Brace stared at his father. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Charles glanced at his wife and then back at Brace. “Your mother asked me the very same thing. I didn’t tell you because I thought it should come from her. I still feel that way. If you had known, would you have been able to prevent this abduction?”

“No,” he replied truthfully. Then he laughed. The bitter, sardonic sound echoed through the room. “I’ve accused her of being everything she never was. In comparison to her, I led a life of luxury.”

Ann dabbed at his head again. “The past only matters in how it shapes your future; I tried to explain that to you the other day.”

“I know that now,” he said, looking up at his mother and smiling softly before returning his gaze to Charles. “I spent a great deal of time thinking about what you told me.”

As he spoke, Ann walked around the table and went to Charles’s side. With her hands resting on her husband’s shoulders, she said, “She loves you very much.”

Brace’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, very slowly, he nodded his head. “I will find her.”

“And I’ll go with you,” Charles declared. Brace shook his head slowly. “No, Father. You must stay here. If Elyse finds some way to escape, she’ll need your protection.”

Charles looked at him steadily, weighing his son’s words, and then nodded. “Where will you go first?”

“Montego Bay. Where else would they go?” With that, he stood and left the room. Stepping into the sunlit courtyard, Brace paused for only a moment before he crossed it and went into his apartment.

He changed his clothing, went to an ornate cabinet, and opened the doors. His eyes roamed the cabinet’s interior until he reached in. When he withdrew his hand, he held a plain, but expertly crafted pistol and examined it closely.

His father had given him the weapon on his return from America. The gift was not one of arms, but of the adulthood with which Brace had returned to Jamaica.

He stared at the pistol, but saw it not. Instead, Elyse’s face floated before him, and he heard her screaming his name. Closing his eyes, he waited until the vision faded. Then he loaded the pistol with slow, confident movements.

*****

Colleen was tired, yet she dared not rest. She was deserted and alone, her plans destroyed. She had done her part perfectly last night by luring Brace away and keeping him occupied while the other three abducted the Louden woman.

While she had played her role, she had kept the hope that Brace might want her. Then she’d seen the foolishness of her dreams written on his face. When Elyse screamed, and Brace heard her, Colleen reacted with the hatred of his scorn, picking up a fallen branch and attacking the man she once loved.

Then she ran, going to the place where Hollingsby and she had arranged to meet. They were there, the Louden woman unconscious and neatly tied in the carriage. When Colleen started to get into the carriage—for Hollingsby had promised to take her to Kingston and pay her passage to America—the older woman barred her way.

“This carriage is not for the likes of you,” she said, looking down her hawkish nose at Colleen.

Colleen turned to Hollingsby, beseeching him with her eyes. “I’ve done my job as I promised—more than my job!”

“Yes, you have. And you shall be rewarded.” Saying that, Hollingsby lifted a purse before him and smiled. “You were an unexpected diversion, and I thank you. But it really would be quite unseemly to have a whore in the same carriage with my fiancée.”

Saying that, he threw the purse to Colleen, who stood helpless while the driver whipped the horses into action.

“You rotten bastards!” she screamed. Then she bent and picked up the purse. Opening it, her breath escaped with a hiss. Gold glinted in the starlight. He had kept part of his word.

Although she’d walked back to Montego Bay, a walk that lasted an hour into the morning, she did so knowing it would be the last time she would trod that path. She would take the first ship to America. One had arrived late yesterday, and she knew, because of the gold she now possessed, that they would allow her to stay in a cabin until they sailed again, without telling anyone in the town that she was there.

Nodding to herself and chasing away her thoughts, Colleen closed the strap on the cloth bag, turned, and started for the door. Before she reached it, her father appeared, blocking her way.

“And where are you going?”

“Away from you! Away from this damned-to-hell island!”

“Really? Well, I might have a thing or two to say about that,” he growled, stepping forward, his eyes small and menacing.

“Don’t!” Colleen warned.

“You’re my flesh and blood. You’re my daughter, and you’ll do as I tell you!”

“I’m finished whoring for you!”

“The hell you say!” Simpson took another threatening step, his hand raised.

Colleen backed away, her hand going to the waist of her dress, her fingers circling the handle of the small knife she always carried.

Her father reached her. The instant his hand descended, she pulled the knife and pressed its tip to his throat, breaking the first few layers of skin. “Do it!” she screamed. “Do it! Hit me!”

Her father froze, his hand trembling inches from her face. When he looked into her eyes, he read the truth within them. She would not hesitate to push the knife all the way in. Slowly and carefully, he lowered his hand.

“Turn,” Colleen ordered, moving her feet and turning with him, never letting the blade leave his skin. “I’m not your slave anymore.” The tone of her voice matched her deadly words. “Don’t come after me.”

Colleen lowered the knife and ran from the room, stopping only when she reached the street. She wanted to go to the dock immediately, run from everything and everyone she knew, but she still had one more thing to do.

Turning, she walked away from the inn and the docks, toward the small house that they had lived in before the inn. It was the one place on the island she’d ever felt safe—safe enough to keep whatever money she was able to secrete from her father. Once she collected all her money, she would leave Jamaica, and make a new life for herself in America.

Brace spared neither the horse nor himself on his ride into Montego Bay. He had cut the usual time in half, and when he dismounted in front of the inn, his horse was coated with perspiration. Signaling the inn’s stable boy, he ordered the youth to cool off’ the gelding, but to stay nearby. Then he went into the inn.

The moment he stepped inside, he smelled the tension in the air. The innkeeper, a normally surly man, looked even meaner today. When their eyes met, Brace saw the man’s face darken.

“Where’s Colleen?” Brace asked as he stepped closer to Simpson.

“In hell for all I care!”

Brace’s eyebrows arched. “Where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Where?” he repeated, his words edged in steel.

“I don’t know, and I don’t give a damn. What’s more,” Simpson growled as he stared challengingly at Brace, “it’s more than likely your fault for putting all those grand ideas into her head. Making her think she’s better than she is. She thinks she’s as good as them three that were staying here.”

Brace knew just how much Simpson hated him, but when the innkeeper spoke those last words, Brace reeled in shock. “What three?”

Simpson laughed. “What three? You can’t be that ignorant! The two lords and the lady from England. Said they were here to make investments. The younger one sure turned Colleen’s head.”

“They’re still here?” Brace asked, his mind racing with hope.

“No, they left last night.”

“Last night? Where were they going?”

Simpson’s smile turned ugly. “I don’t owe you anything, Denham.”

Brace’s arm moved like lightning. His hand grasped the rounded neck of Simpson’s shirt and pulled him close. When he spoke, his words came from between clenched teeth.

“I want to know where they went. And Colleen, too!”

Staring into Brace’s angry eyes, Simpson saw something within their depths that turned his blood to ice. Slowly, he nodded his head and Brace released him. After he straightened his shirt, and took a deep breath, he spoke.

“I don’t know where they went. They took a carriage yesterday, just after sunset. Colleen was with them. They never came back, but Colleen was here this morning. She left a few minutes ago. I don’t know to where.”

“Have any sloops sailed for Kingston today?”

“Not that I heard. Sam Gracy’s sloop is due in with supplies later today. There’s a ship come in last night, bound for New York.”

Brace fixed Simpson with a disdainful look. He needed to think. As he left the inn, he failed to hear Simpson’s muttered curses, directed at his back.

If Colleen was not with them, where was she
? He forced himself to concentrate, pushing aside the urgency that was a constant warning in his mind. He knew that if he rushed about without a goal, he would only waste valuable time.

If they didn’t return to Montego Bay, where did they go? And Colleen? Brace knew if he found Colleen, he would be able to get the answers.

Forcefully, he made himself remember the many times he had spent with Colleen. Then it hit him. The old house! Colleen had taken him there several times. She had told him it was her private refuge. Her father never went there anymore; he always stayed at the inn. She went there whenever she could, to be alone.