The Lady Knights of Barony

Elise Marion

The Lady Knights of Barony

Elise Marion

Copyright 2012 by Elise Marion

Edited by Christine Kirchoff

Cover Art by Mumson Designs

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

Dedicated To:

Every reader that wrote in their reviews or to me personally of their love for the Lady Knights. If not for you, this book would never have existed. I hope that you love it as much as I do and that these brave women continue to inspire you as much as they’ve inspired me.

Special Thanks To:

Christine Kirchoff, for helping me take ‘Kings of Cardenas’ to a new level of excellence.

Contents

Book One: The Hellion

~Prologue~

~Chapter 1~

~Chapter 2~

~Chapter 3~

~Chapter 4~

~Chapter 5~

~Chapter 6~

~Chapter 7~

~Chapter 8~

~Chapter 9~

~Chapter 10~

~Chapter 11~

~Chapter 12~

~Chapter 13~

~Chapter 15~

~Epilogue~

Book Two: Beloved

~Prologue~

~Chapter 1~

~Chapter 2~

~Chapter 3~

~Chapter 4~

~Chapter 5~

~Chapter 6~

~Chapter 7~

~Chapter 8~

~Chapter 9~

~Chapter 10~

~Chapter 11~

~Chapter 12~

~Chapter 13~

~Chapter 16~

~Chapter 15~

~Chapter 16~

~Chapter 17~

~Chapter 18~

~Epilogue~

Book Three: The Accidental Groom

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

~Epilogue~

Lady Knights of Barony (The Final Chapter)

Historical Notes

About The Author

More by Elise Marion

Coming Soon

Book One: The Hellion

~Prologue~

Barony 1835

Riders cloaked in black hovered on the horizon like a swarm of angry wasps. The up and down motion of horses galloping was reminiscent of ships bobbing up and down on ocean waves. In a matter of minutes, the rebels would swarm the village. They would not ask for permission to enter, nor would they pause for pleasantries. Even from this distance, one could see that the intent of these riders was deadly.

Magnus Longley quickly locked the door to his shop, the tiny smithy at the heart of Gladstone. It was the most relied-upon business in the village. Everyone knew that Magnus Longley could be counted on when it came to the repair of a skillet or plow point. He was also a damn fine sword smith. As Magnus walked away from his shop, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, uttering a silent prayer that the small building would still be standing in the morning.

His long legs ate up the distance between the marketplace and his home. All around him people ran, their baskets full of supplies and their arms full of weapons. Tonight, they would do battle to save Gladstone. His eyes met those of the people he’d known his entire life; Matthew the baker, who now carried a sharpened axe, Timothy the reverend, who had traded in his Bible for a rifle, Grace the seamstress, who closed her shop with tears in her eyes and a dagger at her belt. Most of these people did not stand a chance, but by God, they would not go down without a fight.

Magnus’s heart swelled with pride as he turned down the lane toward the small two-bedroom cottage he shared with his wife and daughter. He was proud of the home he’d made with his beautiful Bella. His craftsmanship combined with her feminine touches created a cozy little corner of the world just for them. It was no castle, but as far as Magnus was concerned, it was fit for a king.

He could hear his wife and daughter bustling around as he neared the door. Magnus knew that they would be following his instructions to the letter as he had prepared them for this event.

The rebellion in Barony had come to a raging climax a few months ago when the king and queen were ruthlessly killed on the front steps of Guthrie Hall. Now the rebels were sweeping through the province, demanding loyalty for their leader, the merciless Silas Winthrop. Outraged by the murder of their beloved sovereigns, the people weren’t having it. They were fighting back, inciting riots and battles in the streets of Barony’s villages. Even those of noble blood were no longer safe, as evidenced by the deaths of the king and queen. Barony’s courtiers were prepared to fight as well. Just the other day Magnus had sharpened a sword for a young lord prepared to join the common man in battle.

Bella greeted him at the door, a rifle strapped to her back. Tendrils of honey blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face, falling loose from the bun at the nape of her neck. Her Cupid’s bow mouth was pinched and her cornflower blue eyes filled with worry. She held twin pistols in her hands, one of which she gave to him. Once he had taken it and shoved it into the waistband of his trousers, he accepted his axe from her as well. She lifted the lid of his arms trunk and placed a curved dagger in their daughter’s hand before peeling back the rug in the center of the sitting room. He opened the square trapdoor he’d built into the floor and ushered Ava into the tiny nook he’d carved out beneath the house.

As his eyes met hers, his heart melted, and he vowed to protect his family at all costs. Ava was the jewel of his heart, a miracle child that had come after years of heartache.

He and Bella loved each other deeply now, but it had not always been so. Her greedy, poor parents had sold her to Magnus’ father to repay a debt. Bella was given to Magnus as a gift.

Even then, he’d thought himself unworthy of her delicate beauty. He’d been afraid to touch her with his meaty hands, afraid to hurt her with his massive body. Magnus knew that Bella could never look upon his hardened, gruff face and feel the stirrings of desire.

As much as he’d wanted her and as beautiful as she’d been, he stayed away from her that first year. In time, they’d fallen in love and his young bride had come to his bed willingly, enthusiastically. She became pregnant almost immediately, much to Magnus’ satisfaction. Months later, she came home from working as a shopkeeper’s assistant with blood staining the front of her dress.

They had buried three deformed, tiny babies and lost all hope of ever having a child. Bella had fallen asleep many nights, crying in his arms, refusing to allow him his marital rights for fear of another heartbreak. He was too sympathetic to her pain to push her, too saddened by the loss of three sons to try to convince her otherwise. They didn’t make love for almost a year.

In a fit of passion too strong to control, they’d forgotten themselves one night and conceived. Worried, Magnus commanded his wife to her bed. Nine miserable months on her back passed and Bella finally carried a baby for a full nine months.

The birthing had been long and hard. Bella nearly died bringing their fourth child into the world, but in the end, both mother and baby thrived. With the waning rays of sunlight beaming through his bedroom window, Magnus had stood holding a tiny bundle in his hands, studying her scrunched, red face with tears in his eyes.

He named her Ava; it meant ‘life’. It represented everything that she was, a living, breathing testimony of his love for Bella. With her mother’s face, his inky black hair and gunmetal gray eyes, she was certainly a wondrous creation.

As she gazed up at him from the hidden chamber in the floor now, Magnus willed her with his eyes to remember all that he’d taught her. The use of weapons was something he felt every person had a right to know, including the women he loved. He accepted his second pistol from Bella and lowered it into Ava’s hands.

“Remember,” he said with a forced smile.

Ava clutched the pistol and dagger tightly in her small hands and nodded silently, her wide eyes boring into his.

Suddenly, the door to the cottage was flung open and Magnus’ sister, Julia, came barreling in with her husband and daughter hot on her heels. Julia and Stephan carried weapons as well. Stephan thrust a pistol into the hands of his daughter, Nell, who was just a few years older than Ava. Julia and Bella often joked that Stephan and Magnus treated their daughters like the sons they wished they had. Magnus and Stephan insisted that it was not true, though as he slammed the trapdoor shut over the two girls, he was grateful that they’d been raised they way they had. No two girls could be more prepared for an attack.

Bella and Julia took their places beside the two windows facing the front of the house. The sound of horse hooves was thunderous and the clamor of screams could soon be heard. Magnus knew that the rebels would be upon them in a matter of minutes. He paused beside Bella and crushed her slight frame against his large one, pressing her up against his chest and placing a kiss on the top of her blonde head. She gazed up at him with tears in her eyes and the hands clutching the rifle shook.

“Last chance to run,” he said, fighting back the lump that had risen in his throat.

“I will remain beside you,” she said, her musical voice warming his heart as it always did. “Unto death.”

The four fell silent as the sounds of screams and gunshots rang out through the village. The rebels were here, killing, raping and pillaging. Tears rolled down Bella’s cheeks at the sound of women’s screams. Many of them were her friends and Magnus knew that her heart hurt for them.

They waited in silence, not one of them moving or breathing. Magnus’ eyes met Stephan’s and he nodded as the two came to a silent agreement. Horses were coming down the lane. The two men would go out to meet them together.

Magnus gripped the handle of his battle-axe tightly, his eyes flashing silver in the waning sunlight as the rebels approached. Stephan slapped a massive club against his palm rhythmically, his eyes locked on the approaching rebels as well. Surprise tore through him as he recognized the leader of the rebellion leading the small group of rebels toward his home.

“You must be Magnus Longley.”

Silas’ voice was smooth and silky. It reminded Magnus of a serpent slithering along the ground. Silas sat erect in the saddle, his dark brown waves peppered with silver. His equally dark eyes gleamed with mirth as he brought his men to a halt behind him.

“What do you know of Magnus Longley?” Stephan’s question was curt and barked out from between clenched teeth. Magnus could feel his friend’s seething, hot anger.

“It is said he is the finest blacksmith in all of Barony,” said Silas, his gaze cool as he glared at Stephan. “Rumors of his superior weapon-making skills are abundant.”

“I will not touch a single rebel weapon, you cur!” Magnus roared as he took a step toward the porch steps. The audacity of the man had his blood boiling. His fury was now a match for Stephan’s. “I will die first!”

“Come now,” Silas crooned in his silky voice. A slow smile spread across his lips. “The benefits of choosing the right side are vast. Your family will be protected and you will know wealth beyond your wildest dreams. In the new kingdom, your name will become synonymous with greatness.”

Magnus wondered in this moment, if this was how Christ had felt when tempted by Satan in the desert. As Silas’ silky smooth voice stroked at his spine, filled with promises, Magnus’s resolve hardened.

“Keep your money and your protection!” He lifted his axe menacingly. “I have chosen my side. My loyalty lies with the true king and queen, whom you murdered in cold blood.”

Silas sighed wearily and shrugged. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t offer,” he said, his tone now filled with disinterest as he motioned for his men to take over.

Magnus leaped from the porch, swinging his axe in a wide arc toward the man closest to him. The rebels had dismounted and were storming toward the house. His axe bit through flesh and bone before blood splattered across his neck and chest. He swiped at his face with his sleeve and charged toward the next man. From the corner of his eye, he could see Stephan swinging his club. He faintly heard the snap of breaking bones.

Bullets flew around them and Magnus knew that Bella and Julia had joined the fight. Both women were well trained and most of their shots struck true.

The number of the rebels seemed to swell as they surged toward the house. Magnus and Stephan tried to hold them back, but a few slipped past them and up the porch steps. Magnus prayed that their women could handle themselves. The constant crack of gunfire indicated that they could.

Eventually, he and Stephan fought back to back, surrounded by rebels. He could no longer see the house, but he could hear the feminine screams coming from the inside. He quickened his pace, undisturbed by the spray of blood and gore around him. This was not his first battle and with the rebellion going the way it was, it probably would not be his last.

Seeing that he had lost many of his men, Silas ordered the rest to retreat. They reluctantly followed orders. None of them wanted to be called cowards, but then none of them wanted to risk being at the other end of Magnus’ bloodstained axe or Stephan’s club, which was now coated in gore and brain matter.

“Until we meet again, blacksmith,” said Silas’s liquid voice.

There were still men inside, Magnus realized with horror as the majority of the rebels thundered away after their leader. Exchanging horrified looks, the two men raced toward the house, the terrified screams of two women drawing them toward it like a beacon.

Ava slowly lifted the trapdoor and pushed the heavy rug aside. The noises from outside had subsided and she was certain that the rebels were riding away. The screams of her mother and aunt could still be heard, as could the grunts and groans of the men still left in the cottage.

Nell, who stood behind her in the dark hidey-hole, gasped at the sight that greeted them. Both women were sprawled out on the floor, Julia on her back, Bella on her stomach. Their daggers and empty rifles were scattered about the room. Both women’s faces were bruised and their arms were pinned to the floor. Each of them was pressed to the floorboards by two rebels, one holding down their arms and the other rutting cruelly between their legs.

Her stomach turned at the sights and sounds of rape. Fury filled her as Bella’s eyes lifted to connect with hers. Her mother, so beautiful and fragile yet so strong. She shook her head at her daughter, a silent warning she knew that Ava would ignore.

“We have to help them,” whispered Nell. “Come on Ava, we can take them.”

Ava looked down at the pistol on her hand. It held one shot, as did the pistol that Nell had. With two rebels down, each of them had a fighting chance with their knives. Their fathers had taught them well.

“Yes,” she said from between her grinding teeth. “On my count.”

Even though Nell was two years older than Ava, she had always followed her younger cousin. Ava was a natural born leader, or so her father had always told her.

“One…” she whispered. Her fingers tight on the butt of the pistol, her eyes narrowed in concentration on the man pounding her mother into the floor. “Two…” the world seemed to tip on its axis, slowing and fading to silence as she and Nell leaped up from the hole in the floor, their pistols cocked and ready. “Three!”

Two bullets zipped through the air toward their targets. Nell’s bullet found its way into the left eye of the man violating Julia. Ava’s bullet ripped through her target’s forehead before exiting the back of his head. The two men fell on top of their victims, motionless.

“What the devil?”

The two cowards who held women down while others raped them barely saw the girls coming. Nell, who had always been quite large for her age, rushed toward her mother’s assailant and caught him around the middle. The two rolled across the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. In a matter of minutes, she had plunged her knife into the man’s stomach.

Ava leaped up onto the kitchen table, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as the last remaining rebel ran toward her. The lumbering brute thundered across the floorboards, grin smug, his hands stretched out to grab the little slip of a girl that had shot his friend. As he neared, Ava leaped from the table and soared forward to meet him.

The two collided, but Ava found the advantage as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She went at him like a wild cat, swinging her knife as well as her clenched fist. In her mind, she knew she could never forget the image of her beautiful mother, stretched out on the floor like a tavern whore, her dress up around her hips and that stinking rebel taking something from her that belonged only to her father. She knew it would haunt her forever.

Ava she took it out on the only enemy that remained, slicing into the skin of his face and neck with the dagger, soaking both her dress and his shirtfront in blood. She did not care. Ava enjoyed every second of it; the warm gush of blood over her hands, the metallic taste of it in her mouth, the pain-filled groans of the man who tried to fight her off but could not. She was strong in her fury, stronger than even she thought she could be.

When the giant finally fell to the floor with a thud, Ava landed on his chest with a satisfied smirk. She brought her knife down one last time, wedging it into her enemy’s heart. As she stood and wiped her bloody hands on her dirty skirt, she realized that the room had gone eerily silent. She glanced up to find five pairs of eyes boring into her. Five mouths hung open wordlessly.

Her eyes connected with a pair of gray ones, her father’s. His shocked expression transformed to one of pride as he stepped forward and opened his arms to her. With a smile and a laugh, she threw herself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly as he spun her around in circles.

Ava knew that things would not be easy in the days that followed. For the rest of their lives they would forever carry the scars left by this day. She would not remember the day just for the horrible things that had happened, but because it represented the defining moment in her life. She would remember this day because it was the day that Ava the warrior was born.

~Chapter 1~

Barony 1857 (twenty years later)

Since the return of Barony’s lost princess and the following war with the rebels, things were different. Queen Isabelle and King Serge had set things right, cleansing the broken province of the evil that threatened to consume it. For the first time in her life, Ava knew a peaceful existence.

All that remained now was the rebuilding effort happening across all of Barony, something that every man and woman was happy to be a part of. As a knight of Barony and the captain of the women’s regiment, Ava was responsible for the protection of the people of Gladstone as well as aiding their neighbors in the rebuilding effort.

The heat would have been oppressive to anyone that was not used to it. For most, the darkness of the small, one-room shop would be depressing. To those not familiar with the tiny space, the tools cluttering nearly every surface might have seemed haphazardly placed.

To Ava, this place was a sanctuary. It was a haven. It was hers.

The swelter was soothing, like a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her. Her father’s arms. The dim lighting reminded her just how alone she was inside the cramped room, and this was the way she preferred it while at work. Every tool was in its perfect place in her mind, right where she needed them to be.

Barony did not boast many female blacksmiths. As far as Ava knew, she was the only one. For lack of a son, her father had taken her under his wing, making her his apprentice when she was ten years old.

As she leaned over an anvil, hammer and chisel in hand, she could faintly hear the cadence of horse’s hooves in the distance. Not long ago, that sound would have sent Ava into a flurry of activity. Up until a few months ago, that sound could only mean one thing: rebel soldiers coming to start trouble.

The services of a soldier were important, but those of a blacksmith were invaluable. When she wasn’t repairing farm equipment or household tools, she was making swords and gun parts. The entire community thrived because of her work. It was something she knew her father would be proud of.

He would have been ecstatic about her achieved knighthood as well. Lady Ava Longley; it was a title that she had never hoped to have before King Serge came along. Because of the efforts of herself and her friends in the war against the rebels, he had declared an end to the law against female knights in Barony. The gleaming medal and polished breastplate she’d been given were displayed prominently in the little one-room cottage she shared with a fellow soldier.

The other gifts, she refused. King Serge had given each of his lady knights an estate, one worthy of a titled member of the nobility, complete with land and tenants. While she appreciated the gesture, Ava couldn’t bring herself to leave Gladstone. They needed her and if she was being honest with herself, she needed them.

Her mother had died ten years before, caught walking home alone by a wandering band of rebels. Her father suffered for five long years after that before he finally followed his wife in death. It was as if his survival was dependent upon Bella’s. Once she was gone, there was nothing else for Magnus to live for.

Her fellow soldiers and the people of Gladstone were all she had left in the world. She would never leave them.

Ava was content to allow a hired caretaker to oversee the grounds and farms at Heatherton Manor. She had studied it once from afar. It was beautiful, the kind of place one might go to raise a family. Because she didn’t have a family, she didn’t see the use in living in such a large, imposing place alone.

Curiosity pulled Ava from her wandering thoughts as she wiped her smudged hands on her apron and moved toward the front door of the smithy. She narrowed her eyes and shielded them with her hands as her sight adjusted to the bright burst of sunlight that greeted her.

Riders were coming into the village. Ava smiled when she recognized the royal carriage pulled by six perfectly matched black bays. The surrounding sentries were the queen’s bodyguards. Her good friend, Vernon, jumped down from his horse first and rushed forward to greet her.

As he crushed her against him in a tight hug, Ava inhaled his familiar scent and smiled. She and Vernon had not always been friends. In fact, upon learning that Ava was not only a female blacksmith but a soldier to boot, he’d taken an immediate dislike to her. After months of needling and antagonizing each other the two settled into a friendship of sorts, a relationship similar to what one might share with an irritating sibling.

He pulled away and ruffled her shoulder-length, black locks affectionately. His white-blond locks swept his broad shoulders and he towered over him with his long and thick frame. He peered down at her with deep brown eyes and smiled. “It’s good to see you scamp,” he teased. “Still chasing the boys away with your ugly mug?”

Ava made a face at him, quite an unattractive one, and punched him in his well-muscled bicep. The two had once mistaken their heated dislike for each other as attraction. They had even tried to act upon it. She remembered the night with a giggle whenever it came to her mind. After several minutes of kissing and touching with nary a spark between them, they’d given up, content to remain the best of friends.

Ava had never felt that spark of desire she’d so often heard about from her friends. She was beginning to think she never would.

Ava moved around Vernon to curtsy to her queen, who had just stepped down from the carriage. Isabelle moved forward and hugged Ava as soon as she’d risen from her curtsy.

“My friend,” she said in her soft, tinkling voice. “It is so good to see you. I feel as if it’s been forever.”

The two were quite a contradiction as they stood together at the center of Gladstone’s market. Queen Isabelle was all light and air, with wispy blonde hair cut short. Her porcelain complexion combined with her pale hair and eyes to create a startlingly ethereal effect. She seemed dwarfed beside Ava, her petite figure overshadowed by Ava’s intimidating one.

Ava was stormy darkness. Her inky black hair and sooty gray eyes were defined by a complexion made golden-brown by the sun. A light dusting of freckles dotted her nose and cheekbones. Her height well exceeded that of the queen’s and her lean body was defined by long stretches of muscle.

“How long have you been home?” she asked. “I trust your journey to Cardenas was not too arduous for you.”

Isabelle snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’m a pregnant woman, not an invalid,” she said, annoyance edging her voice.

Ava’s eyes lowered to the queen’s slightly rounded middle and laughed. She knew King Serge had been making a nuisance of himself since she’d announced her pregnancy.

“Certainly Your Majesty, I would not dare suggest otherwise. Are you here for the day? I’m sure the others would love to see you.”

“If my husband doesn’t stop behaving like such a fool, I might just stay forever,” she muttered with a sigh. “I would love to see the other girls.”

The two began the short walk through the market, the queen’s bodyguards flanking them. Ava felt the corners of her mouth turning up as they neared the gated community where Barony’s female soldier’s regiment lived. After her father’s death, she and her cousin Nell had found a home within the group of women who sacrificed their lives in defense of Barony. After years of dedication to the regiment, Ava had climbed the ranks and was now their captain. Knowing that these women were with her, united with her in a common purpose, made her feel as if her life had meaning.

The gatekeeper recognized them and allowed them entrance. Ava watched as Isabelle’s eyes began to reflect the same joy that she knew was present in hers. The queen had come to her at the climax of the conflict with the rebels, asking Ava to take her on as a student. Unwilling to allow the fate of her people to rest on the shoulders of her husband alone, Isabelle had wanted to learn how to fight.

Months of grueling training had turned her into one of the finest fighters Ava had ever known. She knew that her level of skill was the sort of thing one was born with. Isabelle had always been destined for greatness.

Upon discovering that their queen was among them, the other women stopped what they were doing to greet her. At the front of the pack was Nell, who also dwarfed the tiny Isabelle with her massive height. Her muscled arms came around Isabelle and she chuckled with delight as she glanced down at her growing belly.

“She’s growing strong, Your Majesty!” Nell gushed with a smile.

“She?” questioned Isabelle with a laugh.

Nell nodded. “Of course. Another lady warrior to join our ranks!”

A chorus of feminine laughter surrounded them as two others pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Hanako, the Japanese woman who had fled her country before arriving in Barony, was next to greet their friend the queen. With her petite frame, she was a match for Isabelle in size. The tall, lithe Mudiwa, an African refugee, was next. She bent down from her towering height to embrace Isabelle.

The five of them had been knighted together, the very first lady knights of Barony. They’d fought together and that forged a bond stronger than any blood tie. These women were her sisters.

“You’re just in time for lunch,” said Mudiwa with her thickly accented voice. “I hope you’ll join us.”

Isabelle absently ran a hand over the mound at her middle. “That sounds wonderful. I’m famished.”

They’d just finished mopping the bottoms of their bowls with crusty bread when the door to the dining hall slammed open. A male soldier wearing Barony’s colors came staggering in. Blood trickled down the side of his head and his breathing was harsh as he stumbled toward Ava.

“My lady,” he gasped, “Raiders have come to Trilor!”

Ava and Isabelle shot to their feet at the news. The neighboring village was full of farmers and their families. Between Gladstone and Trilor lay nothing but farmland dotted with farmhouses and barns. Raiders could steal and pillage to their heart’s content and be gone by the time enough soldiers could be gathered to stop them.

“How long has it been?” asked Isabelle, her hand already on the hilt of the dagger at her waist.

“Nearly half an hour,” the soldier responded. “I was riding out to a relative’s house when I spotted them. Two of them tried to follow and stop me, but I managed to fight them off.”

“You’ve done well,” said Ava as she turned to leave the dining hall. “Have someone in the infirmary tend to your hurts. You are welcome to a hot meal as well.”

Isabelle fell in alongside her, with Nell, Mudiwa and Hanako behind them. The queen’s bodyguards brought up the rear. Once outside, they turned to Isabelle for direction.

“Suit up and meet me in the market,” she said calmly. “I am going back to the carriage for my armor.” She turned to Nell. “I will need horses for myself and my bodyguards.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Nell answered.

“But Your Majesty,” Vernon interjected, a frown creasing his forehead. Ava knew well how he hated to be forced to choose between following the orders of his king and those of his strong-willed queen. “Do you think it wise to...?”

“My husband has charged you to protect me,” she interjected, fixing Vernon with an icy glare, “not to question my commands.”

Vernon silently fell back and nodded deferentially. They all moved to do her bidding. Ava ran toward the cottage she shared with Mudiwa. The two changed in silence, pulling on their breeches, tunics, and boots. They helped each other into their armor, strapping their gleaming silver breastplates to each other’s torsos. Each jammed a helmet on their head before taking up their weapons.

Ava opened the trunk at the foot of her narrow cot and removed her sharpened twin battleaxes before jamming them into their holsters at her hips. A sword was sheathed at her left side and a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Her dagger was shoved down into her boot.

The two ran toward the stable, where their horses were saddled and ready. Ava nodded her thanks to the women who’d run ahead to see to the task for them. Most of them were in training and would remain behind. The others were ready and waiting to follow Ava to the center of Gladstone, where Isabelle waited. She had changed inside the carriage, donning clothing and armor similar to that of the other ladies. Ava was grateful that the queen’s breastplate concealed her pregnant belly. She vowed to protect Isabelle at all costs. There would be hell to pay if she were injured.

“Eyes sharp ladies,” said the queen as she took her place at the front of the pack. Ava and Nell took their places at her right, Mudiwa and Hanako to her left. “Archers, to the front,” she commanded as she gave them the signal to move out.

****

Dorian Blake loved fire. He loved the way orange, yellow, and red danced together among the flames. It was elegant. Beautiful. Deadly. He adored the smell of burning wood and the heat against his skin, how a single spark could ignite a raging inferno, destroying everything it touched and leaving nothing but gray smoke and black ash in its wake.

As he sat in the saddle, watching his men set fire to the storehouses they’d just emptied, Dorian felt a tingle running down his spine at the sight of leaping tongues of fire. He would enjoy it while he could. Alas, his time in Trilor had come to an end. Actually, his time in Barony was almost at an end. His men had their fun, he’d gotten what he came for and he was ready to go home and start reaping the benefits. The spoils of his plunder would fetch quite a price.

“I’ve got the last of them, Monsieur,” said a familiar voice carrying a heavy French accent.

Dorian turned to Geoffrey, his most faithful lackey. Geoffrey gestured toward the cluster of women under heavy guard nearby. Dorian dismounted and followed Geoff to where the women were standing. He appraised them critically, his eyes sweeping over each one, assessing. They ranged in age from eleven to about forty. There was a variety of shapes and sizes from thin to rotund. There was also an abundance of hair and eye colors. A fine selection, although none were more than passably attractive. Not one was worthy of his attention, but there were men out there that would pay for his wares. Different men had different tastes, after all.

He approved them with a nod and ordered the women bound and gagged. “Get them into the wagon and tell the men to move out. I want out of this God-awful country. We’ll find a secluded spot to camp for the night and head out in the morning.”

Half American, half French, Dorian’s accent was not quite as thick as his companion’s but still quite noticeable.

“As you wish,” said Geoff with a deferential nod.

Yes, thought Dorian with a smirk, these women, added to the others he’d already stored on board his ship, would fetch a handsome price once cleaned up and made pretty. Dolly would see to that.

His thoughts were interrupted by a dark cloud of riders headed their way. They wore Barony’s colors. Dorian’s smile widened at the sight. He’d been itching for a fight since the last village they’d raided. Geoff cleared his throat as Dorian fingered the hilt of his sword.

“Non, Monsieur, there’s no time for that,” he said.

While Dorian chafed at what he perceived as Geoff’s disrespect, he had to admit that the man was right. As much as he wanted a brawl, getting away with the merchandise was far more important.

“You’re right,” Dorian conceded with a nod. He turned his horse toward the wagon, where his other men were hurriedly prodding the women up into the vehicle. “Get a move on,” he bellowed, “we haven’t got much time left!”

Within seconds, the last of the women had been rounded up into the vehicle, and his men were saddled up and ready to escort it to safety. Dorian glanced back at the approaching riders, knowing that they could catch them easily.

“Half of you will stay behind and hold them off while the rest of us get these women out of sight. Make sure you’re not being trailed when you come to join us.”

Dorian watched as approximately thirty of his men separated from the group and fell into formation before riding off to meet the approaching soldiers. With a satisfied nod, he turned back to Geoff and his remaining men.

“Move out.”

Dorian faintly heard the sounds of shouts and clashing steel as they made their escape. He peered back over his shoulder to ensure that his men were holding them at bay. During their time here, they’d clashed with many of Barony’s soldiers. Now that the rebels had cleared out, Barony’s ranks had swelled tremendously and their villages were more protected than they’d ever been. This had not presented much of a problem for Dorian at first, but the longer they remained in Barony, the better prepared the soldier and villagers would be for their attacks. It was time to leave.

As they crested a hill several yards away from where his men were holding Barony’s soldiers back, Dorian couldn’t help looking back once more. These soldiers were different, he noticed. They were more skilled than any of the others they’d faced. He couldn’t help but admire their superior skill and choreographed formations. It was a thing of beauty.

Just before he turned away, his eyes fell on one particular soldier. Tall and slim, he wielded his twin battleaxes with lethal precision. Two of his men fell with just one swing of an axe, causing Dorian’s eyebrows to shoot up into his forehead.

Then, something remarkable happened.

The soldier fell from his horse and tumbled to the ground. When he stood, his silver helmet was no longer on his head.

Dorian’s eyes widened as they took in ebony waves and soft features. Even from this distance, he could make out eyes like gray ash. By God, he was a she!

Dorian watched, transfixed, as the woman made short work of another one of his men. Geoff appeared at his side.

“Sir?” he asked, his brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you all right?”

Dorian blinked away the stupor that had fallen over him at the sight of the warrior beauty. He realized that he was alone, with only Geoff at his side. His men were carrying out his orders and had already disappeared with the kidnapped women.

Geoff probably thought he was upset over his slaughtered men. Most, if not all of them, were doomed against Barony’s female regiment. Dorian had heard stories about the lady knights, but had not realized how close he was to crossing paths with them.

As Geoff finally coaxed him into leaving the scene of the bloody battle, Dorian realized he didn’t give a damn about his dead men. There were more where they came from, plenty of morally corrupted, money hungry bastards to choose from back home. No, he didn’t care about the men at all.

He only knew that he would never be able to forget her, strong in her fury and beautiful in her vengeance, full of spirit. She was perfect. She would be his.

~Chapter 2~

Ava retrieved one of her axes from the spine of a man lying face down on the ground. She used her foot to push the man onto his back and stared down into his grotesque face, still twisted in the expression of horror that had been glued to it right as he died.

“What do you suppose they were doing here?” asked Mudiwa, who came up beside her and stood staring down at the corpse.

Ava shrugged, kicking the man in his shoulder just for spite. “These bandits hardly need a reason,” she huffed, disgusted. “Crops, cattle, tools, food, you name it they’ve come to steal it.”

“Perhaps we should just ask this charming fellow,” Nell said with a chuckle. She held one of the simply dressed bandits by his collar. Despite his protests and struggles, Nell’s powerful arm held him firmly in place. She shook him roughly like a dog.

“Cease your cries, pig!” Nell commanded as she set him on his feet, still maintaining an unyielding hold on his collar. “Tell us what we want to know and you’ll live.”

Ava stepped forward, fixing the squirming prisoner with her cold, liquid gray stare, now turned silver in her anger. “Speak now or I’ll slit your throat.”

She lifted her dagger and pressed it against the man’s windpipe for emphasis. “Start talking.”

The man returned her venomous stare, his upper lip curled in disdain. “Femme stupide, Dorian Blake is not a man to be trifled with!” he spat in a voice thick with French accent.

“If you’re smart you’ll let him go and tell the families of those women that they needn’t bother waiting for their return.”

“The women,” said Isabelle’s soft voice from behind her. The queen slid her sword into its sheath, her eyes gleaming with anger as she joined them. “He means to sell them.”

Ava’s free hand curled into a fist as she turned back to the rat hanging from Nell’s grip.

“Where’s he taking them?”

He shook his head slowly, his jaw set in determination. “Do you think I would suffer his wrath when faced with a group of women pretending to be men? You don’t scare me!”

Ava felt her fingernails biting into her palm as she closed the distance between herself and the prisoner. Nell clamped her hand down painfully on his neck as he moved to pull away. Ava twisted the dagger until she’d pricked his skin. She watched with satisfaction as a drop of blood welled against her dagger and streamed down to his dirty collar. His eyes widened and he went completely still.

“I’ve been known to sever heads from bodies with this dagger,” she hissed, her nose nearly touching the trembling coward’s. “If you wish to keep your head attached to your shoulders you’ll start talking.”

“There’s a ship!” he exclaimed. Ava nodded, lowering the knife from his throat and taking a step away. He deflated with visible relief.

“Go on,” Nell prompted.

“It’s called The Raven and it leaves the port at Cardenas in one week’s time.”

“Where’s it going?” Ava questioned. “I plan to hold you until the information has been verified, so don’t even think of lying.”

“Martinique,” he said quickly. “An island in the West Indies. It’s where The Raven will make port.”

Ava nodded, satisfied that the captured bandit was telling the truth. “Have him held until the ship has been located,” she said to Nell. “Have a wagon sent for these bodies. A mass burial is more than these curs deserve.”

Nell motioned for Mudiwa to follow her and the two went to carry out Ava’s command. Ava turned to find Queen Isabelle seated on the smooth top of a nearby boulder, her shoulders slumped, her eyes downcast.

“Are you feeling ill, Your Majesty? Shall I send for your carriage?”

“I am perfectly well,” Isabelle replied, waving Ava’s concern away imperiously. “I am disturbed at the thought of Barony’s women being sold into slavery. I can only imagine the sort of places they are likely to end up.”

“More than likely they will be sold to brothels,” said Hanako, her input blunt as it often was. “The more attractive ones may go to the higher priced places, you know the ones where they dress whores like ladies. The others will not be so fortunate.”

“None of them is fortunate,” Ava snapped. Honestly, as refreshing as she found Hanako’s frankness, at times it bordered on tactlessness. “We must intercept the ship before it leaves Cardenas.”

Isabelle stood and sighed, rubbing her lower back distractedly. “As much as I’d hate to suffer his wrath for my involvement in today’s skirmish, I must inform my husband. He is bound to find out anyway.”

Ava nodded her agreement. She secretly hoped that King Serge would find a way to convince his wife to remain home and allow her and the other ladies to handle the kidnappers. While she was usually the first to defend a woman’s right to fight for home and country, a pregnant woman was an inconvenience as well as a potential target for their enemy. She quite possibly carried the heir to Barony’s throne and anyone who captured her held two valuable lives as bargaining chips. Ava didn’t want to risk it.

“We will escort you to Guthrie Hall then,” Ava said. “We will await our orders from the king.”

****

“We understand each other then, Mr. Vincent?”

Julian Vincent nodded silently before accepting the heavy sack of coins from his latest employer. He didn’t bother to count them, for he knew he hadn’t been cheated. There wasn’t a man within one hundred miles of Barony who would dare.

“How long?” Julian asked as he pocketed the first half of his payment.

“One week,” the man answered from his place in the shadows. “I want her delivered to my vessel, The Raven. She is docked at Cardenas.”

Julian studied the man who had sent for him, curious as he always was about the type of person that had a need of his services. This man had asked for him by name, declared that he would consider no one else for the job.

He was obviously wealthy. Julian could see this by the cut and quality of his clothes. A light accent belied French ancestry, yet brown, sun-kissed skin suggested that he came to Barony from a much warmer climate. The cold, hard gleam in his dark brown eyes told Julian that the man was as calculating as he appeared; not a person to be trifled with, not that Julian had any plans to.

“I’ll need a description of her,” Julian said, “to ensure that I don’t grab the wrong girl.”

Dorian Blake’s shadowy figure moved fully into the light. The hard lines around his mouth softened and he sighed wistfully. “You could not possibly mistake her for anyone else, Mr. Vincent. She is a heavenly vision, the epitome of feminine strength and beauty. She is what dreams are made of, this woman. Her hair is as black as the sails of The Raven, her eyes the mysterious color of smoke and ash.”

The man paused and shuddered, visibly affected by the mere thought of the woman. Julian fought the urge to roll his eyes. No woman was that beautiful, especially not inwardly where it truly mattered. They were all vain creatures, the lot of them, useful for no more than sating a man’s needs and bearing children. Besides that, there wasn’t much else to recommend them. Julian had never been so consumed by one.

This man was willing to pay him handsomely to deliver the woman and that was exactly what Julian planned on doing. Whatever the woman had done to enchant Dorian Blake so thoroughly was none of Julian’s business. If she knew what was good for her, she’d have never tangled with a man like Blake in the first place.

“You will find her in Gladstone, in the female regiment’s compound. Be warned, Mr. Vincent, the woman has deadly aim with a bow and wields a battleax like a man twice her size. There are others around her with similar skills.”

“I don’t think a few women playing soldier will be a problem,” Julian scoffed.

Blake grinned, a sickening pull of lips away from teeth. There was nothing cheery about the expression. “Très bien. Don’t say I did not warn you,” he replied, his eyebrows raised. “Do whatever you must to subdue her without harming her.”

“Oh, and one last thing,” he added as Julian turned toward the door. He stopped and glanced at Blake over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I am convinced that my little angel is pure and untouched. She will be delivered to me that way, yes?”

Julian’s jaw tightened and annoyance flared in his chest. There was nothing appealing to him about some black-haired harridan swinging an axe. Even if there were, he was a professional. It was why people asked for him by name. His ability to see the job done without a second thought or blink of an eye had earned him his reputation. Rather than remind the fool of this, Julian merely nodded.“Of course.”

****

“I won’t have it! Women being kidnapped from their homes? I won’t stand for it!”

Ava watched in silence as King Serge thundered his rage. It was the reaction she’d been expecting. Barony’s newly crowned king had an explosive temper and a great sense of duty and honor. Though not a native of Barony, he considered the province his home. This kidnapping of women was personal.

She sat beside Isabelle, watching as he paced silently, his hands clenched behind his back. He limped slightly, an old injury that showed when he was tired or agitated. As he turned to pace the other way, Ava caught site of the scar slashing down the right side of his face from just below his eye to his jaw line, just one of the king’s many battle trophies. Anxious hands raked through shoulder-length golden brown hair and cobalt eyes flashed angrily.

“I want them found,” he said. “I want them found and the man responsible punished. Do we know his name?”

“Dorian Blake,” Ava responded. “The man we took prisoner called him by that name. He warned that he is powerful, not a man to be trifled with.”

Serge’s jaw flexed and his mouth tightened into a thin line. “I don’t care if he’s a damned sultan! I want him brought to me, alive if possible. I want to know where he’s been taking these women. I also want a messenger sent to Cardenas.” This he said to Primus, Barony’s Grand Vizier. The distinguished man was at least thirty years Serge’s senior, but still carried the handsome features of his youth and dignity befitting his station.

Primus stood and nodded. “To whom will the message be going, Your Majesty?”

“Damien of course,” Serge responded, his pacing finally ceasing. “I need to know of any reported kidnappings in Cardenas in the last few months. Also, find out about this ship, The Raven. I want it seized and its occupants arrested. I want those women found.”

Damien, Serge’s younger brother and king of Cardenas, the neighboring province, would do everything he could to aid his brother. Ava had seen the two united in battle before and knew them as a force to be reckoned with.

“You might tell them to hurry,” Ava interjected. “Our prisoner has informed us that The Raven sails for the West Indies in one week, which is how long the journey to Cardenas could take if they don’t get a move on.”

“You heard her,” Serge added.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Primus said with a bow before exiting.

“Serge,” Isabelle spoke for the first time in minutes. “If I may...“

“No, Isabelle, you may not,” he snapped, his eyes flashing as they narrowed in on his wife. “We will talk about your foolish and reckless behavior in private.”

Isabelle fell silent, but Ava could see the fire burning behind her venomous glare. The two would be at each other’s throats the second Ava left the room. Moments after that they would be in each other’s arms. Such was the nature of their relationship.

“Lady Longley,” Serge said, addressing Ava by her formal title. She had not yet grown used to it.

“I await your orders, my king,” she said, standing to receive his command.

“You and your lady knights will pursue Blake and bring him to me for punishment. I will also offer you a contingent of my own soldiers to add to your ranks. They will be instructed to follow your every command.”

Ava nodded. “We will set out after them with haste, Your Majesty,” she answered. “You have my word that we will do everything within our power to return these women to their families.”

Serge nodded in satisfaction and waved his hand in dismissal. “Very well. The contingent of soldiers will arrive in Gladstone this evening.”

Ava bowed, winking at Isabelle and gifting her friend with a covert smile. Isabelle maintained a straight face, but as always mischief bubbled just under the surface.

~Chapter 3~

By the end of the next day, Ava’s weariness was bone deep. There was much to do if they were to set out in search of Blake and the missing women in the morning.

She had left Nell in charge of receiving the soldiers from Guthrie Hall, as well as the gathering of supplies for their journey. Ava trusted her cousin to handle the tasks efficiently and quickly. For herself, there was an afternoon and evening of weapon cleaning and sharpening. There were gun parts to repair, as well as dented armor to smooth out. She soon found a steady rhythm to her work and finished her tasks in record time.

Satisfied, but exhausted and hungry, she slammed the door of the smithy behind her and turned the key in the lock. She would return with Nell and a wagon for the repaired items in the morning. For now, all she wanted was a meal and her bed.

Ava’s steps were quick as she moved down the darkened, familiar street. Her mother had always worried about her walking about alone after dark. Her father had countered with his usual arguments; his daughter knew how to take care of herself.

It was just as she was having these thoughts and missing her parents, that Ava heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind her. She didn’t slow or stop, but she did put her hand on the hilt of the dagger in her belt. Every muscle in her body, fine-tuned for battle, was coiled and ready for action. Her hands were steady and her breath was as serene as her stalker’s. She waited for the inevitable lunge, waited for the person behind her to make his move.

The slightest change in his pace was her signal, just the slightest shuffling of feet and the hitching of his breath in his throat as his arm came out toward her. Unsheathing her weapon, Ava swerved away from his grasp. Her left hand came up to take his arm into an iron grip, while slashing at his appendage with the weapon in her right. A hiss, a grunt and a low growl were the only sounds that came from her assailant as she moved to strike again with her knife.

With surprising speed, her attacker ducked away from her knife while grasping her wrist at the same time. He squeezed painfully, forcing her to drop her blade, but didn’t see the fist speeding toward his jaw before it was too late. Flesh wrapped around her knuckles, and the bones in her hand vibrated as they connected. A swift kick to the shin had her opponent on the ground before he’d barely recovered from her blow to the face.

A smirk of triumph flashed across Ava’s features just before another, much stronger arm came around her waist. Her body was pulled back against another, much harder one with a rough jerk. A coarse fabric clamped down over her mouth and nose, effectively smothering her. As she kicked and struggled against the hard male body, her feet came clear off the ground as the arm tightened. A foul smell filled her nostrils. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. The fight left her muscles and her body went limp. The dark night faded into complete blackness as she lost consciousness.

The first thing that Ava noticed when she gained consciousness was the dry, rough texture inside of her mouth. It took a few moments for coherence to set in and she realized that she’d been gagged. A few more seconds of lucidity confirmed that there were bindings at her wrists and ankles. For some reason, her capturers had wrapped something soft around her appendages before tying her up. How very thoughtful of them, she thought dryly.

Despite the discomfort of her position, lying on her side with her hands behind her back with a strip of cloth soaking up every drop of moisture in her mouth, she forced herself to focus and remain calm. Because it was still dark, she assumed that her kidnappers hadn’t gotten far with her. She heard the distinct crackling of fire nearby and turned her head to find the source. The small blaze cast an orange glow on her surroundings.

Ava craned her neck at the most advantageous yet most uncomfortable angle and was rewarded with the full view of a campsite. Two pallets were on the other side of the fire. Ava suddenly realized that she was laying on the third. Two horses dozed while tethered to nearby trees. A small kettle, barely even the size of a small cooking pot, was hanging over the fire. A few feet away from the blazing fire and kettle were two men.

She could clearly see the face of one, her first attacker, she guessed by glancing at the dingy fabric wrapped around his left forearm as a makeshift bandage. A head full of wild, flame red hair fell around his ears in disarray and his tan, leathery skin suggested that he spent a lot of time outdoors. He was frowning down into the bowl in his hands and shaking his head.

“I’ll have your silence Julian,” he said to his companion, the great hulking beast of man sitting across from him. That he was comparable to a towering oak was evident, even by just his silhouette.

“I don’t know, Simon, it’ll make for such a damn good story!”

If Ava wasn’t mistaken, the beast’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. Simon did not look amused.

“What kind of friend does that to his mate, his partner in crime, I ask you? A great big horse’s ass, that’s what kind!”

This caused the beast’s shoulders to shake uncontrollably and roaring laughter to ring out through night’s dark blanket.

“It’s not my fault you were bested by a woman and had to be rescued.”

“Your plan, your fault.”

“My plan, your miscalculation. We were warned that the girl had some skill, recall.”

Girl? Some skill? Ava scoffed inwardly. If the beast wanted proof of her skill, he need only release her from her bonds. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she thought of digging into the man’s chest with her knife, but it was inhibited by the gag. She glared daggers at him with her eyes instead.

“Who’d have expected a girl to come flying at a man with a dagger like that? Honestly, even you can’t say you were expecting that Julian.”

The beast shrugged one shoulder fluidly. “I suppose not. You held your own. Besides, we were lucky to have found her alone instead inside of that compound full of banshee she-devils.”

Ava’s fingernails bit into her palms. Just cut me loose you big lout and I’ll show you a she-devil! She was surprised her skin didn’t burn red hot. It certainly felt as if her blood was. In that moment, the beast’s back stiffened and he began to turn. Had she made some sort of sound? She was certain she hadn’t, but there he was, staring at her over his shoulder as if he’d heard her thoughts.

That’s ridiculous, she told herself as he stood and made his way to where she was trussed up like a Christmas goose. He stopped and glanced down at her, amusement glistening in his eyes. She perused him briefly and took in a few details as he sank to his haunches in front of her; leather boots, dusty but a good quality, brown trousers hugging powerful thighs and a strip of naked chest where his white shirt was partially undone. Ava peeled her eyes away from the exposed flesh and nearly choked on her gasp.

In regards to his form, calling him a beast had been an accurate assessment. He was as large as her father had been, taller than most men she knew, with a chest as wide as a barrel and biceps like tree trunks. The fabric of his shirt was nearly stretched to its limit across the shoulders. His neck appeared to be too thick for even her long-fingered hands to wrap fully around. Large hands sported scarred knuckles, undoubtedly caused by fist fighting.

As far as his face went, well, there was nothing beastly about that. In fact, he was downright beautiful. A strong, prominent jaw and chin, a decidedly aristocratic nose and coal black eyes were a potent combination. His hair was as black as hers and fell in soft waves to his shoulders. His only flaw was a scar slashing along his upper lip, probably an old cut from a knife or dagger.

This Julian was unquestionably a dangerous man. Even with all of her strengths and abilities, Ava knew better than to underestimate him.

“Well good morning to you,” he said with a smooth, rich, baritone voice. “Or should I say good evening? You’ve been asleep for quite some time. Perhaps you’d like to join my associate and myself for a late dinner? I’m sure Simon would be happy to share, despite the vicious stabbing.”

Ava could do no more than glower at him. What did he expect her to do with a gag in her mouth? She refused to make even the slightest sound. He watched her silently as if waiting for something. When Ava’s expression went from anger to rage, he chuckled.

“No? Are you certain?”

A kidnapper with manners, what a rarity, she thought sarcastically. Outwardly, she maintained her vicious stare, topping it off by raising her chin a few inches.

“Oh, it’s like that is it? Well then, suit yourself.”

With that, the beast rose up to his full, intimidating height and made his way across camp. He turned his back to her once more and resumed eating and talking with his friend. Ava could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he could feel her eyes on him. Well good, she hoped he disintegrated from the heat of her anger.

How dare he take her like a common thief? Did he have any idea what he was getting himself into? She was a lady knight of Barony and he would pay dearly for his crime, she would make certain of it!

In the meantime, Ava didn’t even know why she’d been taken. She didn’t know what this man meant to do to her. Until she did know, she intended to remain on her guard.

~Chapter 4~

Julian glanced over his shoulder to find that their captured hellion had finally fallen asleep. She’d been watching them—well, him to be exact—with fire in her gaze from the moment she came out of her drug-induced slumber.

He’d been on the opposite end of a female’s cunning wiles before and didn’t expect anything less from this one. Add to that the fact that the woman knew how to throw a punch and wield a dagger and Julian’s trust was whittled down to nothing. He didn’t dare let his guard down for a minute, despite the fact that she was obviously not going anywhere fast.

“I thought that Blake fellow called her a beauty,” Simon said, peering at the sleeping wildcat over his shoulder. “Perhaps there is something wrong with his eyes.”

Julian couldn’t help but agree. He was sure that beneath the layer of grime and ash that covered her face and the thatch of short, black hair, was a face as ugly as sin. He supposed the flashing silver eyes he’d looked into were appealing enough, but how could it matter when the woman was wearing a shapeless bag of a dress covered by a dirt-smudged apron and looked as if she’d been sitting too close to a fire?

“To each his own, Simon,” Julian said with a chuckle as he took a long swig from their shared bottle of whiskey. He passed the bottle to Simon. “It makes no difference to me, as long as we get paid, which we will. Something tells me that Blake won’t be backing out of the deal. Did you see his face when he described the girl? He wants her, Simon, though I couldn’t figure out why to save my life.”

Simon shrugged and took his turn with the whiskey bottle. “Just a means to an end, eh Julian?” he said as he stood, swayed, and left the whiskey bottle on the rock beside him.

“Of course. Did you think that this one would be different?”

Simon shrugged again, his eyes bleary and unfocused from drink. “Perhaps because we know this girl didn’t do anything to deserve Blake.”

Julian snorted. “Actually, we don’t know that.”

Simon sighed. “I don’t know, Julian.”

“Why are you suddenly so squeamish? We’ve done jobs like this before.”

“Yes, but those were runaway spouses or dishonorable men trying to outrun their debts.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “Nothing has changed, Simon. We do the job, deliver the girl, take the money.”

“If you say so,” Simon retorted as he turned toward the heavy line of trees to their right. “Going to the privy.”

Julian watched Simon disappear into the woods and sipped at the whiskey bottle absently. A means to an end. That was how he had to think of these jobs. Just one more step on the path to the life he’d always wanted. After all, being born the bastard son of a noble hadn’t offered him many other choices.

He glanced at his sleeping captive once more. The amount he’d charged Blake for the kidnapping was twice his normal rate, but Julian was ready to end this phase of his life and move on to the next. A house, a piece of land, cattle and a comfortable existence; all of these things were what he was working for.

One scrawny, soot-covered girl was certainly worth it.

The moment Julian’s eyes closed, Ava’s popped open. She narrowed her gaze on him from across the nearly extinguished campfire, her jaw clenched to the breaking point. A means to an end, that’s what he’d called her. She wasn’t a person, someone’s friend, or someone’s daughter. He was nothing more than a middleman for Dorian Blake and she was a trophy for the abductor of women.

The thought filled Ava with fury, but she was calmed by at least knowing why she’d been kidnapped. In fact, this development might serve her in the arrest of Blake. King Serge had charged her with finding the man and this Julian was taking her straight to him.

With at least that knowledge to pacify her, Ava fell into sleep; real slumber this time, not the act she’d been putting on for Julian and Simon.

When morning dawned, she felt much better, though slightly cramped from sleeping so awkwardly. She was annoyed at having to wait for one of her kidnappers to notice that she had awakened, as she was still bound and unable to even sit up on her own. Ava’s stomach growled noisily and rolled violently as she thought of the meal she’d missed out on the night before. She was starving, she was uncomfortable and she needed to relieve herself, but she’d be damned if she was going to make even one little sound. Ava contented herself with staring at her capturers until Julian finally noticed that her eyes were open.

“Well, well,” he drawled slowly as he approached, sinking down to one knee in front of her pallet. “Our little hellcat has risen.”

Ava stared at him silently, her teeth clenching brutally around the gag between her lips. His hands clamped around her shoulders and pulled, manipulating her like a rag doll until she was seated with her legs folded beneath her. The sudden rush of blood to her limbs caused them to tingle.

“Now that you are well rested, we will continue on our journey,” he said. “I will remove the gag so that you can eat and the bonds long enough for you to relieve yourself. I’ll not tolerate any insubordination from you either, so don’t even think of trying to escape. You won’t get far, I can assure you. If you agree to my terms, I’ll unbind you now.”

Ava’s pride held her silent for only a few seconds. Her aching stomach and tingling bladder eradicated it fully, though and she nodded her consent.

“Good girl,” he replied with a smirk that said he didn’t believe her for one second. Nevertheless, he reached behind her to remove the gag. Ava gasped and filled her mouth with the taste of clean morning air once the rough fabric was gone from her mouth. Her bone-dry tongue felt like tree bark in her mouth.

“Water,” she croaked. Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears, her throat was so parched.

A wineskin materialized in her captor’s hand that was thankfully filled with cool water. He lifted it to her lips—her hands remained tied behind her back—and allowed her to drink her fill. Water rolled down her chin and neck, but Ava didn’t care. The water was entirely too satisfying for her to worry about how she appeared to her kidnapper.

“What’ll it be now, hellcat? Breakfast? A few moments of privacy behind a tree?”

Ava detested his referring to her as ‘hellcat,’ but she wanted relief from the swelling pain in her bladder and the gnawing of hunger in her stomach.

“The tree, please,” she answered.

After fumbling with the rope around her ankles for a few moments, he pulled her to her feet with a rough yank. Ava glowered at him as he freed her wrists. As she turned to walk toward the trees, Julian’s hand clamped down tightly on her arm.

“Not so fast,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll need some assurance that you won’t go wandering off.”

“My word wouldn’t suffice?”

This chuckle was a sarcastic snort. “No.”

A new length of rope, a longer one, appeared between his large hands. He knotted it around her waist so tightly Ava could never hope to pull it loose. Still holding the other end of the rope, Julian waved her off with an imperious motion.

“Off you go,” he said lazily, resting his back against a nearby tree. “If you’re not back in five minutes I’m yanking on this rope until you appear.”

Ava bit back her retort and retreated into the woods, grateful that he had at least given her enough rope to disappear from his sight. She felt like a new woman after coming out, the swelling sensation in her stomach now gone. Of course, hunger was gnawing at her now more than ever.

When she reached the campsite, Julian was waiting for her with the wineskin and a dry-looking oatcake. Ava accepted the cake reluctantly and frowned.

“I apologize of the fare isn’t up to your standards,” he said. His amusement was infuriating. “However, if you don’t want to pass out in the saddle I suggest you eat it.”

Ava took a large, un-ladylike bite and chewed noisily, her narrowed eyes fixed on his twinkling black ones. A smirk pulled at the corners of his firm mouth, emphasizing the small scar on the upper lip. Ava choked down the mealy, flavorless cake quickly and washed it down with more water from Julian’s offered wineskin.

Just as she finished, Julian’s partner approached, leading two horses by the reigns.

“Ah, Simon.” Julian said. “Just in time! Our companion has awakened and is ready for travel.”

Simon’s cheeks and neck flamed red as he nodded at her. His embarrassment over their first encounter was evident. Refusing to relieve his discomfort by releasing his gaze, she lifted her chin a few inches and stared back, the challenge in her expression clear.

“Well then,” said Julian after the silence had grown beyond uncomfortable. “Shall we go now?”

Ava eyed the two animals patiently pawing the ground behind Simon. “There are only two,” she argued.

Julian’s smirk became a grin and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Ah, that my dear, is because I wouldn’t trust you on a horse farther than I could throw you. You’ll be sharing my mount.”

Ava’s eyes widened and she felt her heart kick into double-time at the thought of riding in the saddle with this man. Would he make her sit behind him with her front pressed so intimately against the rippling back she’d noticed the night before? Or would he place her in front of him and…dear God, her face was hot!

“Absolutely not,” she said, her chin reaching new and undiscovered heights as she squared her shoulders. Julian’s left eyebrow shot up and Simon’s mouth dropped open.

“I beg your pardon?” Julian questioned.

“I said no,” Ava replied, staring up at the man that made her feel small, which was hard to do given that she was taller than most. She craned her neck up to stare into his fathomless eyes and her hands found her hips. “Have I not suffered enough indignity at your hands? Kidnapped from my own home, bound and gagged and forced to sleep that way, made to relieve myself while attached to a rope and now this! I refuse to be subjected to your shabby treatment any longer.”

Ava regretted her words the instant they’d left her mouth. Within seconds, the humor had faded from his eyes and was replaced with fury. The black gleam was now dangerous, filled with the promise of what he was capable of doing to her. His jaw hardened impressively and his lips tightened at the corners.

“You are a bold little thing, aren’t you? Either that or incredibly dense. Have you not enough sense not to speak this way to someone in control of your fate, hellcat?”

“Ava!” she spat, her regret now replaced with annoyance. “My name is Ava or Lady Longley if you prefer. I have a name. Use it!”

“Well then my lady,” the last two words rolled off his tongue like a curse, “I shall allow you the courtesy of choosing your method of transportation. Either you ride with me, free from your bonds until we make camp, or I will bind you, gag you and toss you over the back of the saddle.”

Ava knew then that she’d been beaten. Her tongue protested mightily at the thought of being gagged again. Her sore muscles reminded her of the uncomfortable position in which she’d spent the night. Inwardly she crumbled, but outwardly her shoulders had never been straighter and her chin had never been higher. She walked toward the inky black mare with a stunning white star between its eyes. Somehow, she knew it was his.

“Well what are you waiting for?” she asked in her most superior tone.

~Chapter 5~

It was fortunate for Julian that he knew his chosen route between Barony and Cardenas well. His thoughts were flying in so many directions, he could barely focus on the path ahead of him. The little hellcat had sat stiffly before him for the first few hours of their journey, refusing to allow her body to touch his anymore than was necessary.

Eventually, though, she’d fallen asleep. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and her back rested comfortably against his chest. With his arms on either side of her holding the reigns, her thighs resting along his and her bottom resting up against his crotch, they were about as close as they could be.

Her figure wasn’t as unappealing as it appeared beneath her shapeless dress. Both soft with femininity and hard with muscularity, her body was a finely tuned work of art, worthy of a Greek sculptor. He could imagine the stretches of lean muscle beneath sun-kissed skin as if she were standing naked in front of him. The thought caused a surge of blood away from his brain and toward the baser parts of his anatomy.

A soft sound, one that sounded dangerously like a moan, escaped her lips as she shifted against him, turning her head to the left and nestling closer to him in her sleep. He glanced down at a soot and grime covered face framed by chin length, raven black hair that was now a mass of tangles. Incredibly unappealing.

So what was it about this woman that caused his body to react so strongly? It’s been too long since you’ve had a woman. He told himself to make bedding a tavern wench his first priority after this job was done. A lusty working girl with large breasts and waist-length blonde hair, he decided, the exact opposite of the hellion now sleeping against him.

Yes. That would do the trick.

Having made that decision, he turned his thoughts from Ava, praying that the throbbing erection in his trousers went down before she awakened to feel it pressed, hard and thick, against her bottom. He forced his mind away from her body and considered her bold declaration that morning. Lady Ava Longley. She certainly wasn’t like any of the ladies he’d ever known, and he’d known plenty of them. They were always quick to snub him once they realized his blood was only half as blue as theirs was. Their maidenly pretenses bored him and the games they played while using lies and feminine wiles infuriated him. Give him a common girl any day.

What sort of lady was Ava, he wondered? What sort of lady walked around wearing a dirty, shapeless bag of a dress covered in soot? What sort of lady wielded an axe and a dagger like a man? What sort of lady lived in a compound with a group of other women, with nary a man in sight to tempt with her fluttering eyelashes and swaying hips? If she indeed was a noblewoman, then she was definitely one of a kind.

His next thought caused Julian to stiffen in the saddle. If she was a lady, then he and Simon could be in danger of royal intervention. He had never encountered the King of Barony, but he’d heard of the man’s skill on the battlefield. Julian had also heard of the king’s temper and intolerance when it came to people operating outside of the law. He would not stand by and allow the man who’d kidnapped a member of his court to escape. This made their assignment all the more dangerous.

Don’t get cold feet now, he told himself. He had almost earned enough money to buy the property he wanted in Rinland, the smaller province that sandwiched Barony between it and Cardenas. A few more jobs and he might even be able to afford a full staff. The farmland was prime and he couldn’t wait to start working it. He was ready to finally make an honest living. It wouldn’t be the life of luxury he’d have had if his father had claimed him, but it would be home. A place of his own.

With that in mind, Julian forgot all thoughts of King Serge and his certain arrest if they were caught. If this woman was the fierce fighter he’d been told she was, she would be more than capable of freeing herself from Blake’s clutches. All that mattered to him was the prize to be won in the end. Once out of his custody, Ava Longley was on her own.

Ava glanced up at Julian as he passed her the wineskin and felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. After waking up nestled so closely to him in the saddle, she couldn’t quite look him in the eye without remembering the feel of his rock hard torso pressed up against her back and his powerful thighs on either side of her. He had donned a knee-length black coat over his white shirt and brown trousers, but where his shirt was left halfway unbuttoned she could clearly see the wide, smooth expanse of his tanned chest. A silver medallion hung from a strand of black leather around his neck. The gleaming talisman rested against his skin, glinting brightly in the afternoon sun.

You will stay awake for the rest of the day, she chastised herself. She couldn’t very well succumb to the comfort of leaning back into Julian’s finely-tuned body again. Ava hadn’t even realized how tired she was, even after a full night’s rest. She supposed she had Julian and whatever he’d drugged her with to blame for that. The thought caused her eyes to narrow and she gave her thoughts over to anger in order to keep from dwelling on Julian’s chiseled body any longer.

He looked up and caught her staring at him. His slow smile in response was infuriating. Ava scowled.

“Do you intend to let me run about covered in soot for the duration of our trip, or do you possess enough decency to allow a lady to bathe?” she asked as she took a large bite of the dry oatcake given to her by Simon. They’d stopped for lunch and still had half a day’s ride ahead of them before nightfall. Ava felt positively disgusting covered in a thick layer of grime and soot. It mingled with the sweat caused by the heat of midday. She couldn’t see herself, but her hair felt like a bird’s nest on top of her head.

“I know that you may not care if I go on smelling like the inside of a chimney, but I do,” she continued when he didn’t respond. “And when will there be something to eat besides these oatcakes? They’re dreadful.”

Julian’s shoulders shook with laughter. Simon frowned.

“I made those,” he muttered as he took a bite of his own cake. “Damned ungrateful female.”

“Oh, come Simon,” Julian gasped out between barks of laughter, “you and I know those cakes are horse food.”

He turned to Ava with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But they’ll do for now,” he continued, reclining back against a hollow log, “at least until we make camp again. If we’re lucky we’ll come across a hare or two. Will that be enough to satisfy you, my lady?”

Ava felt a chill running down her spine. She didn’t like the way he said ‘my lady’. It sounded entirely too possessive.

My lady.

“That and a bath,” she answered imperiously. For some reason, their verbal sparring was beginning to amuse her. While Julian was definitely a kidnapper and a fiend, he did not seem cruel. Ava could see that he was just as amused as she.

“Well then,” he stood and stretched, “let us get on our way. We wouldn’t want Her Highness to go on smelling like a chamber pot, now would we?”

~Chapter 6~

Over an hour had passed since they’d made camp for the night and Julian hadn’t caught a single hare. Ava’s stomach rumbled hungrily, but rebelled at the thought of eating one more dry, mealy oatcake. She sat on her pallet, her ankles free but her wrists still bound with Simon standing guard.

“Does he always take this long to hunt?” she asked Simon.

The titian-haired man seemed the quiet sort, especially when Julian wasn’t around to talk to. Ava wasn’t sure if it was because she had attacked him or because he preferred to keep his victims at a distance.

Without answering, he turned toward the fire and threw some more kindling onto it. It roared beneath the makeshift spit he’d created over the fire. It, along with the fire, was all ready for a nice juicy rabbit. Unfortunately, there was none.

“Did you know that there are many edible plants in these woods?” she asked his turned back.

Simon stiffened, the back of his neck turning almost as red as his hair. Ava shrugged at his silence, but continued, determined to draw Julian’s accomplice into conversation. She wanted to know more about these men and their connection to Blake.

“How long have you and Julian been accomplices in the kidnapping of women? For that matter, how does one get into the business of kidnapping?”

Silence. The fire crackled.

“Do you always do what Julian tells you to?”

“Enough!” Simon finally bellowed. He whirled around to face her, his expression a twisted mask of annoyance. “You do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” One of her eyebrows shot up. “Explain it to me then. What kinds of men kidnap a defenseless woman and hands her over to fiend like Dorian Blake? Oh yes,” she said when Simon’s eyes widened in surprise, “I heard your conversation last night and I know who Dorian Blake is.”

Simon released a sigh that was heavy with both weariness and defeat. “It’s not what you think. Julian Vincent is an honorable man. Besides, you aren’t exactly defenseless,” he added, pointing to the fresh bandage on his arm.

“Don’t expect an apology from me,” Ava scoffed. “There is no honor in what you are doing.”

“We have our reasons, none of which need to be explained to you. When we turn you over to Blake, turn your dagger on him. I’m sure you’ll have no problem escaping once you get your hands on a weapon.”

Ava grinned at that. “You’d better believe it.”

Simon fell silent again, his dark brown eyes growing pensive as he stared into the fire. Ava could see the goodness in this man. Unlike Julian, whose eyes held that cold, dark glitter that sent chills up and down her spine, Simon’s gaze held a vulnerability that Ava knew ran deep. Her voice was soft when she spoke again.

“You’re not so bad you know,” she said. “I can tell. I heard the doubt you expressed to Julian over my abduction. Why don’t you—“

“Are you always this annoying?” he snapped impatiently. “Christ above, woman!”

“You call it annoying, I call it persistent. When I want something—“

“For the love of God tell me what you want,” he muttered, “and put me out of my misery.”

Ava’s smile was smug. “I want to know how one goes about becoming a hired kidnapper. Is one born with a talent for it? Does Julian only kidnap people, or is he also a common thief?”

“If his father had done right by him, none of this would be necessary.”

Ava could tell by Simon’s expression that he’d said something he shouldn’t have. His eyes were suddenly clouded and he looked away as if refusing to say anything more. Ava wasn’t letting him off that easily.

“His father, eh? A nobleman?”

Simon refused to meet her gaze, but his face and neck were beet red, a characteristic of embarrassment that she’d noticed in him.

“What about you? Are you an illegitimate son as well?”

“We prefer the term bastard,” Julian’s voice interrupted.

Ava’s back stiffened and her eyes widened. She heard the crunch of his boots over dry brush and leaves as he approached from behind her. When he appeared in her line of vision, holding two dead hares by the neck, her stomach quivered with relief. As she noticed the anger flaring in his eyes, though, the relief quickly turned to dread.

“Well,” she said, raising her chin imperiously, “it certainly is fitting; at least in your case, Julian.”

If at all possible his eyes grew even darker. The obsidian shimmer was both mesmerizing and unnerving.

“You will remember to keep your beak of a nose out of my affairs unless you want to find yourself gagged again.”

He moved toward the fire where Simon sat, his back to them both, his head lowered.

“I think she’s heard enough, don’t you?” he asked Simon accusingly. “Help me skin and clean these?”

Simon silently accepted one of the hares and the two set to work. Ava began to feel the stirrings of guilt in her chest. She hadn’t meant to stir up Julian’s ire toward Simon. Her inquisitiveness had simply gotten the best of her. If she were being honest with herself, at this point her curiosity was at its peak.

When dinner was done, Ava began to wonder if Julian would come through on his promise to allow her a bath. After a full day of travel, she was feeling even grimier than she had at the start of the day. As she watched the two men clean up after their meal, she hoped she hadn’t crushed all possibility of a bath with her big mouth.

When Julian came and released her bonds, she sighed with relief. He’d disappeared into the woods at least half an hour ago. Judging by the water droplets still clinging to his wavy dark hair and neck, he’d just come from the small pond that lay just beyond the line of trees circling camp. A fresh shirt clung to his chest, still slightly damp from being thrown on over his un-dried body. Ava tried not to stare, but that was nearly impossible when his pectoral muscles were pressed so prominently against the white linen.

After releasing her ankles and leaving her wrists still bound, he grabbed her by the arm and silently led her back the way he’d come. He held what looked like a bundle of clothing in his other hand.

Shock rippled through her as they neared the cool, inviting water.

“Surely you don’t mean to stay and watch me bathe.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to leave my captive alone for even one moment,” he answered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“I can’t very well run away from you naked, now can I?”

Julian snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

In any other circumstance, he’d be right. Ava would do whatever it took to free herself from her kidnapper, even run naked through the woods until she found a weapon, clothes, or help; whichever came first. She couldn’t very well tell Julian that his taking her to Blake was exactly what she wanted. Ava must continue to play the role of helpless prisoner if she wanted to find him. No one knew where Blake was hiding besides Julian; no one that she knew of, anyway.

“It’s indecent,” she argued as they neared the lake. Julian released her arm and turned to her, unfolding the bundle in his other hand.

“These are Simon’s,” he said as he laid out a pair of breeches, a man’s shirt and a belt on a nearby rock. “They might be a bit big but they’d fit you better than mine. It’ll do, at least for you to sleep in, while you wash that sack you’re wearing and lay it out to dry.”

While she knew she didn’t resemble a lady of Barony in her work clothes, his candor stung. She huffed angrily and stomped her foot.

“Well you didn’t exactly give me a chance to change into my best ball gown when you snatched me from in front of my shop, did you?”

“Not that it would make much of a difference,” he muttered as he circled behind her to untie her wrists. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the word ‘hag’ in the midst of his mumbled tirade. Her hands curled into fists at her side and for a moment she wondered what the consequences would be if she were to hit him. Just once would be enough to soothe her ire and restore her pride. His constant jabs at her looks and integrity had long since begun to grate on her nerves.

As she pondered the advantages and disadvantages of such an action, he shoved a small cake of soap in her hand and pointed toward the pond.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’d hurry up if I were you. You’re going to need every single second. You smell like a chimney.”

“No,” she said to him for the second time that day. “You’ve put me through enough.”

“As you so eloquently expressed this morning—”

“And,” she continued, punctuating the word to indicate that she would tolerate no further interruption, “I refuse to suffer the indignity of your leering at me as I wash.”

Julian’s chuckles were loud, a chest vibrating roar that echoed out over the water. Ava wondered if Simon could hear them. Was he having a little laugh himself at her misery and embarrassment? Her cheeks burned at the thought.

“Trust me, my lady, there is nothing beneath that bag of yours to tempt me. You need not worry about my pawing you.”

Ava quirked a brow and delivered her most scathing verbal blow. “Oh no? Was that not your raging prick rising up so rampantly against my bottom this afternoon? Why, I must have imagined it!”

He choked on his laughter and Ava felt a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of her mouth at his discomfort. His jaw was working furiously and his eyes were narrow slits as he closed the distance between them. For a moment, Ava wondered if he would strike her and prepared herself to fight back. His meaty fists remained at his sides, but he leaned down until they were almost nose to nose.

“I’ll turn my back,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “Fifteen minutes. If you’re not out by then, I’m coming in after you.”

~Chapter 7~

By the time Ava had disrobed and splashed into the pond, Julian was still seething. He couldn’t see her, of course, but he could hear her sighing with satisfaction and splashing around as she washed the grime from her body, her very lean, muscular-yet-soft body. He felt his own body reacting at the image he’d created of her in his mind.

Damn it! He inwardly roared his frustration. What was it about the little harridan that caused such a strong reaction in him? She was combative and stubborn and altogether the most frustrating person he’d ever met. By God, the little wench intrigued him.

No lady he knew would ever mention a man’s physical arousal, certainly not out loud and definitely not to his face. No lady he ever knew would stand up to him so boldly.

Perhaps that’s what it was. Wherever he went, most women threw themselves at him. There were even a few well-bred women that liked the idea of bedding him. He had all the dangerous appeal of a sword for hire, but because his father was a noble, they considered him safe. They always quivered in equal parts anticipation and fear when he was around.

But this woman neither wanted nor feared him, a fact that puzzled him tremendously.

A means to an end, he reminded himself sharply as he heard his prisoner leaving the water. He heard the telltale splashing of her dress—if one wanted to call that thing a dress—being washed a few minutes later. Was she still naked, he wondered? He found himself calling on every ounce of his will to keep from turning around to see. Nothing would please him more than to catch a glimpse of her bent over at the waist, her long, shapely legs parted to reveal her… Lord help him, he was losing his mind.

“Are you finished yet?” he asked a bit sharply. Julian had to maintain the distance of captor and captive between them, he reminded himself.

“In a moment,” she answered just as testily as he heard the rustle of fabric. Within a few seconds, he heard her footsteps crunching across the ground as she neared. He turned, a scathing remark on the tip of his tongue, one that never quite made it past his lips.

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. His voice came out as a strangled sound, a moan, as Ava appeared before him, washed and scrubbed.

What the soot and grime had hidden from him was a curiously attractive face. If Julian wasn’t so dead set on hating her, he might have even admitted that she was as beautiful as Blake had said.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered as he stared at her, unable to form coherent thought or speech.

A triangular face with defined, sloping cheekbones held surprisingly delicate features. Smoldering gray eyes flashed silver in the moonlight, no longer dulled by the layer of ash that had previously covered her face. Those molten silver eyes were framed by a fan of dark, straight lashes; over them arched eyebrows the color of a raven’s wings.

His eyes lowered and locked onto her mouth and lips stained an alluring shade of pink. The tangled thatch of black hair was now a shimmering, wavy curtain that framed her face and stopped just below her chin. Typically he preferred his women with long hair, the better to wrap his large hands around, but on Ava the short locks were perfection.

His eyes followed the slope of her long neck and narrow shoulders to the figure he’d felt pressed against him earlier, now in plain view. She’d tied Simon’s brown belt at her waist, causing the borrowed white shirt to taper in and showcase her soft curves. The top button barely concealed her cleavage from view, and if his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, her pink nipples were visible through the fabric. Where in God’s name were her undergarments? He’d have to remember to find her a vest.

He didn’t want to, but couldn’t stop himself from completing the picture, raking his gaze over her long legs wrapped in Simon’s black breeches. She wore her own boots.

Ava gazed back at him silently, daring him to speak, her eyes challenging his earlier assessment of her looks. If things had been different and she wasn’t his prisoner, he would have relented and told her the truth. He would have swept her against his body and kissed her senseless before proceeding to show her just how wrong he’d been.

God, had he been wrong. Lady Ava Longley was beautiful.

However, he wouldn’t tell her.

Instead, he moved around behind her to bind her wrists once more before shoving her roughly toward camp. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he caught a glimpse of her high, firm derriere. He groaned inwardly. The rest of the journey to Cardenas was going to be long and difficult.

****

After hours of trying to sleep, Ava gave up and sat up on her pallet. Julian had agreed to unbind her wrists and ankles for the night, as long as she agreed to sleep with a longer length of rope around her waist. The other end of the rope was tied securely around Julian’s waist; he’d wrapped it around his hand once as well for good measure. Even the slightest tug on the rope would alert him to any movement, so she took care not to shift any more than she had to as she pulled her knees up to her chest. For as long as she lived, Ava didn’t think she would ever forget the look in Julian’s eyes when she’d come out of the pond, scrubbed clean. She’d never been a vain woman, and had never cared much before if someone noticed what she was wearing or found her attractive. Yet Julian’s opinion had meant something to Ava. To have those coal black eyes traveling over her face and body so slowly, so thoroughly, had thrilled her beyond all imagining.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered to herself as she stared into the fire. Julian Vincent was a lowlife kidnapper. There wasn’t one redeeming quality about the man, but still she was unable to keep her eyes from roaming over the rippling muscles that stood out against the back of his shirt. Her fingers tingled as she imagined running her hands along the valleys and planes, feeling the heat of soft skin stretched over hard muscle.

As if he felt her eyes on him, Julian stirred and turned onto his back. He heaved a heavy sigh, as if he was as frustrated as she and then turned to his other side. Julian’s eyes instantly connected with hers and widened in uncontained surprise before they softened, growing heavy lidded and sensual. Ava felt her face growing hot as a those dark eyes traveled slowly over her face. She wasn’t sure if she could ever grow accustomed to the heat in his stare. With the grace of a jungle cat, he stretched and pulled himself up onto his elbow facing her.

“Tomorrow’s journey will be long. You should be resting.”

“Concern for your prisoner? How noble of you, Julian Vincent.”

His eyes narrowed, the dark depths of desire now replaced with cold, hard annoyance. “I simply don’t care to prop you up in the saddle if you fall asleep while on the trail tomorrow and I certainly don’t want to subject myself to your snores.”

“You wouldn’t have to prop me up if you’d thought to provide me with my own mount. If you’re uncomfortable with my riding with you, it is your own fault.”

Julian’s jaw flexed, intensifying the anger that was taking over his expression. His eyes glistened like blackest onyx in the firelight. Ava’s lips parted and a gasp she hadn’t known was coming fell from her lips. She knew he was thinking of her tactlessness earlier. The space that separated them was small. If he wanted to reach across with one of his long arms to do her harm he very well could. In fact, he looked like that was exactly what he’d like to do at the moment.

Instead he laughed. The chuckle surprised her with both its warmth and its timing. What on earth could be so funny? When he’d calmed the spasms of his chest, his eyes twinkled with mirth.

“What manner of lady are you, Ava Longley?”

A smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. Why was it that he so enjoyed baiting her? More importantly, why was it that she so enjoyed it?

“I believe that the truth about me would shock you, Julian Vincent.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Doubtful. There is nothing shocking about a world that revolves around ball gowns, frippery, and foolishness my lady.”

Ava felt the indignation that rose up within her swiftly at his words

She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin achieving a haughty angle that only seemed possible when Julian was needling her. “I wasn’t born into privilege, you know.”

Julian lifted his eyebrows and grinned sardonically. “Consider me intrigued,” he said with a flippant wave of his hand that indicated she should continue.

“My father was a blacksmith and before I was born my mother was a shopkeeper’s assistant. They tried for years to bear children before I was born, but could not. They buried three sons before I came along. My father was convinced that a woman needed to know how to defend herself as well as any man. He taught me how to fight.”

“Thus your skill with the dagger.”

“As well as the axe, sword and bow. You know, if you had allowed me to help you with the hunting this evening, we would have had dinner in half the time.”

“And risk an arrow in my back? Not likely my lady.”

“As I was saying,” she interjected quickly, not wanting to ruin the conversation with an argument. She rather liked Julian when he wasn’t being annoying. As he lay now with his chin propped on his hand, his muscles stretched into a relaxed pose, he was at his least threatening. “After my parents died I joined Barony’s ranks along with my cousin Nell. Before long I found myself their captain.”

“Impressive.”

His words held not a hint of sarcasm. Julian seemed genuinely interested in her tale. Pride swelled Ava’s chest and caused her lips to pull into a smile.

“When the war with Barony was at its peak, I was at the forefront. My regiment and I, along with Queen Isabelle, led the last charge against the rebel horde when they attacked Guthrie Hall. The king and the majority of our fighting forces were over half a day’s ride away. We held the castle with only a handful of my soldiers, the queen, and a group of farmers and noblemen who’d never seen battle in their lives.”

Ava couldn’t stop her smile from widening as she remembered that day proudly. She’d never been happier to stand for something than she had on that day. They’d saved Barony, and she had been a part of it.

“After that last battle,” she continued, “King Serge lifted the laws barring women from knighthood in Barony. Queen Isabelle, along with me and three of my soldiers were knighted before the entire kingdom and that is when I received my title. So you see, Lady Ava Longley did not exist until a few months ago. I had to work hard for my title and my estate and lands, unlike the rest of the nobility.”

She came out of the warm haze she’d created around herself during the retelling of her life’s story to find that Julian was no longer looking at her. He stared pensively into the fire, his expression filled with equal parts turmoil and pensiveness.

“Tell me about it,” he said softly, his lips barely moving as he continued to stare into the flames. “Your estate.”

Ava shrugged. “It’s a mansion with too many rooms and grounds as big as the compound I share with over one hundred other women. There are tenants, farmlands, and cattle. There’s also a garden. I believe the caretaker oversees most of its maintenance.”

He shifted on his pallet and his eyes finally reconnected with hers. “You mean you don’t know for sure?”

“I don’t live there. It was a kind gift but Heatherton Manor comes with a lot of responsibility and my priorities are the blacksmith’s shop my father left to me, Barony’s women’s regiment and the people of Gladstone as well as the surrounding villages. Besides, Heatherton Manor is too big for one person alone. Perhaps I will move there when I have a family of my own.”

Ava didn’t miss the scowl that pulled at his mouth and brow.

“You don’t know how fortunate you are,” he said, his voice tinged with a mixture with emotions. Ava felt herself physically reacting to his sudden change in demeanor. Her heart seemed to ache for him. For a moment, she could almost see the lost, vulnerable little boy he must have been, a bastard son abandoned by an uncaring father. What drove Julian Vincent? What force had pushed him toward this life?

“Is it so important?” she asked, truly wanting to know the answer. “A house is a place made of stone. A home is what’s important, the place where the people who love you are. That’s a true home.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said, his voice a low growl. Frustration edged his chiseled features. “I’ve never had either.”

Ava felt the strings of her heart being tugged even harder at his words. She unconsciously moved toward him, decreasing the space between them. Julian stared up at her from where he laid, his face a tortured mask that betrayed his vulnerability.

“Surely there must have been someone who cared about you.”

His eyes became immediately shuttered and guarded. He turned his back to her swiftly, effectively ending their conversation.

“Good night, Ava.”

Her jaw set in determination, Ava refused to be cowed. She moved closer—so close that her knee was touching his back—and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said. “I gave you my life story, Julian! The most you can do is tell me a little bit about yourself. Help me understand a man that kidnaps women for a living.”

“I do not kidnap women for a living!”

His mighty roar should have been enough to wake every animal in the forest, yet Simon remained eerily unmoving on his pallet a few feet away. His back to them, he snored loudly, shattering the silence that stretched between them after Julian’s outburst. The muscles in Julian’s shoulders bunched and rolled as he turned to face her again.

“I do what I have to do to survive. It’s all I’ve ever done, my lady. You with your loving parents and shining future could never understand what that’s like.”

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Make me understand. I want to.”

“My father is an extremely wealthy and well-known member of the royal court. I’ve no doubt you may have even rubbed elbows with him at one of your soirees. My mother was a maid in his house. From what I understand, his wife is a very jealous woman. When she found out that a maid was carrying her husband’s child, she had her thrown out on the street. My mother never did get over the heartbreak,” he laughed dryly. “She thought herself in love with him.”

“Then she must have loved you, your being an extension of him.”

His eyes hardened and glittered with anger. “No,” he ground out. “My mother despised me. She could barely look at me because I was the very image of him. I spent most of my childhood stealing to survive and to feed myself and became known in our village by my torn rags and empty stomach. When I reached the age of thirteen, a friend of my father’s took me in. He knew that what my father had done was wrong and told him so. From what I understand my father was quoted as saying that he didn’t give a damn if I died in the gutter; he was not going to claim me or take me into his home. Lord Kensington did what he would not. His family took me into their great house on a hill filled with servants and gave me a taste of the life I’d always wanted. I felt as if I belonged in that world too, adapted quickly to it. His son, Thomas, and I became fast friends and the two groomed me to become a society gentleman. I learned to dance, ride, fence, shoot and developed first class manners just like any other young noble.”

“It sounds as if you had a great life with Lord Kensington and his family,” she said with a smile. “I know the new Lord Kensington, Thomas Edwards. I was not aware that you were friends.”

Julian shrugged. “We don’t run in the same circles anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Word spread, of course. Lord Kensington and his family had no qualms about including me in their family outings, which included balls and other such events when I was of age. Of course, it was inevitable that I would run in to him again.”

“Your father?”

Julian nodded. “Once people saw us in the same room together and made the connection, the gossip spread. Every young lady that ever fought for my attention now spurned my advances in public. None of them wanted to be on the arm of a nobleman’s bastard. Of course, that didn’t stop the young jezebels and experienced widows from trying to sink their claws into me. I received so many clandestine invitations, I hardly knew what to do with them all. After a time, I began to grow weary of them, the entire court and their silly games. I’d had enough of their snobbery, so I left. That’s when I met Simon.”

“So, you left the protection of Kensington because of a few harmless rumors?”

“They were not harmless. Those so-called rumors ruined my life. There was no way I could be accepted in their world with my background. No respectable woman would ever marry me and most doors would be closed to me and any children I might have had. I decided to make my own fate and earn my own things, unlike the people I knew who’d never worked for anything a day in their lives.”

Ava nodded in understanding. “So you hired yourself out.”

Julian nodded. “I do things other people would rather not do. If someone doesn’t want to dirty their hands with something, they hire me.”

“Including kidnapping?”

Julian’s expression hinted at not an ounce of guilt for what he’d done. He shrugged again, a gesture that had Ava’s blood boiling.

“If the pay is good enough.”

Her hands closed into fists at her sides and for a moment, she considered using one on him. “You’re despicable!”

Julian suddenly reared up into a sitting position, clamping his hands around her upper arms tightly. He pulled her forward until she was practically in his lap and thrust his face toward hers until they were startlingly close. Ava’s eyes widened as she took in the masculine scent of him. How was it that he constantly smelled of leather, male, and musky shaving soap? Her heart drummed in her chest so persistently, she was amazed that he couldn’t hear it.

“No, my lady,” he hissed, his breath brushing up against her cheek. “I am not despicable. If I were, I wouldn’t have turned my back at the pond to salvage your modesty. If I were so despicable, I would have done what I wanted to do the second I saw you in those damned breeches.”

Despite her better judgment, Ava found herself asking the one question that was burning in her mind. It would only serve to make matters worse, but she couldn’t help it. She had to know. “What did you want to do?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper that she didn’t recognize.

His fingers tightened around her arms, flexing with controlled strength and power. Julian’s cold, hard eyes melted into liquid ebony pools as his eyelids lowered over them. His lips parted and her eyes lowered to his scar. Her tongue crept out to wet her own mouth. His eyes widened as it followed the pink muscle on its journey. He groaned and closed the distance between their bodies with a rough jerk.

“Damn you, Ava,” he growled seconds before slamming his mouth down over hers.

~Chapter 8~

What in God’s name was he doing? When had it come to this? When did his disgust for Ava Longley turn into something else?

As he pulled her against his body and kissed her thoroughly, he knew that it wasn’t as simple as lust. This was something elemental and primal. He felt this within. It was visceral.

Julian hadn’t meant to do it, but then she’d touched him. That simple caress on the shoulder spoke volumes. In the short time that her hand was on him, he knew. She actually cared. Her eyes had been filled with sympathy for the boy he had been before life had ruined him. She’d seemed on the verge of tears for the boy nobody had wanted.

Then she’d gone and called him despicable and damn her, she was right. He was a cad and he was no good, but Julian had been hoping she could see past all of that. Julian had been foolish enough to think that for even one moment, she could see something else in him.

Then she’d gone and called him despicable and licked her lips. Those delicious, full lips of hers had called to him and her sweet little tongue had teased him.

Lady Ava Longley had no idea what she’d just done and if he had been willing to admit it, he didn’t understand the full ramifications himself. He only knew what he wanted right then and there and that was Ava, spread out beneath him.

In an instant, he reversed their positions and pinned her to the ground, his hands leaving her arms to tangle in her hair. Her silken, wavy locks wrapped around his fingers and her body fit up against him like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. Julian groaned at the contact, more aware than ever of the fact that she was not wearing undergarments. For the moment, he was grateful that she’d left her shift drying on the rocks beside her shapeless gown. He hoped a bird would fly away with it by morning.

For now, her current ensemble offered him access to the body he’d been dreaming of since he’d taken her up into the saddle in front of him. His palms moved down over her shoulders to the curve of full breasts. His fingers raked over her rib cage and his hands grasped her waist. They paused at her hips, enjoying the feel of them as he pressed her more intimately against the pulsating ridge between his legs.

The roaring in his ears blocked out all thought as he ravaged her mouth completely. He was not gentle, but then she didn’t seem to want him to be. Ava clawed at him like a wildcat, gripping his shoulders before threading her hands in his hair. She tilted his head and mastered his lips the same way he did hers, thoroughly tasting him. She gave as well as she took, reminding him that she was no delicate flower. No blushing maiden, Ava Longley. She quivered against him in supplication, yet conquered their kiss with an alluring kind of dominance.

Suddenly, he felt the prick of a knife against his side. He stilled, his breath caught in his lungs as he realized that Ava had the tip of his own dagger pressed against his ribs. The jab had been just enough to draw a drop of blood and halt his seductive progress. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring into hers. They were brewing with furious storm clouds.

Her breath was moving rapidly in and out of her lungs, reminding him that her breasts were pressed tightly up against his chest. Despite the fact that she had a knife pressed into his side, he found the friction arousing. He flexed his hips against hers and lowered his head toward hers again, his eyes issuing a direct challenge.

“Do it,” he whispered, watching her face for any flicker of emotion. From where he sat, she looked every bit the acclaimed warrior that she was. He knew that if she really wanted to, she could drive the knife deep into his side before he even had a chance at snatching her hand away. So, he simply watched her, refusing to show even an ounce of trepidation.

“Do it,” he repeated, daring her to do her worst. He would deserve it for being such a fool. Julian never should have kissed her, never should have allowed her appearance to cause him to forget what she really was, an annoying hellcat with a violent streak.

Her nostrils flared and she twisted the knife, just enough to cause him to wince in pain. “I could kill you right now, but I won’t,” she hissed. “I am a lady knight and I fight honorably. Don’t do me the disservice of underestimating me as an opponent and don’t think to prove your dominance as a man over me either. I am not interested in what you have to offer. Why should I be? You are not a bastard by birth, Julian, but you are one in deed. Do not think for one moment that I have forgotten how I ended up here with you.”

With a strength he hadn’t known she possessed, Ava shoved him away and returned to her pallet. The rope that bound them together jerked a few times as she settled herself. Soon he was left staring at her stiff, unmoving back, shock freezing him where he lay. Julian’s eyes fell to the dagger that had been in his belt moments before and now lay on the ground between them. A cat-like smile crept over his features as he lifted his shirt to assess the damage done by his own weapon.

“Oh, my lady,” he murmured as his eyes lowered once again to the enticing backside encased in men’s breeches, “I wouldn’t dream of underestimating you.”

****

Dorian Blake shoved the trembling body of the dark-haired village girl away roughly, his fingers sliding from her sweat-soaked flesh as he released his grip on her arm.

“Leave.”

That single word was all the girl needed to flee from his presence. She didn’t even bother to step into her dress, choosing to hold it over the front of her body as she ran from the room as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

The door opened again seconds later and his twin sister, Dolly, entered one of the several rooms they were occupying during their stay in an inn two days’ ride from Cardenas. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure that one of Dorian’s men had the girl well in hand before closing the door behind her. Dolly moved to the edge of the bed and sat primly on the mattress, folding her hands in her lap demurely.

Dorian didn’t bother to pretend modesty as he stood to cover his naked body with a black silk dressing gown. Dolly had seen enough over the years that the sight of his nudity would hardly be enough to ruffle her feathers. He moved over to the safe where he’d chosen to stash the white rum he’d brought from the West Indies. Crates and crates of it had been sold for profit or traded for women during his time in both Barony and Cardenas, but Dolly always remembered to set a few bottles aside for him. Dorian sipped slowly, savoring the sweet taste of the rum distilled from Martinique’s sugar cane. He raised his eyebrows at Dolly in a silent question. It was obvious that his sister and only living relative had something on her mind.

“Mon frère, must you treat the girls so roughly?” she began, her dark eyes, a match for his, filled with annoyance. Her brown hair, which was naturally the same shade as his, had been dyed a bright, unnatural red. She toyed with her black lace gloves, pulling at them and wiggling her fingers as she spoke. “We won’t get half what the girl is worth if we try to sell her covered in bruises. No man is going to want to pay for your leavings after you’ve marked her up like a branded cow.”

Dorian shrugged and placed a lit cheroot between his teeth. “There’s more where she came from and we’ll make three times what she’s worth on the African.”

Dolly smiled at Dorian’s reminder of the dark-skinned woman they’d captured earlier that day. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones searching for the black-haired warrior from Barony. When Dorian’s men had brought the African woman to them, claiming to have picked her off from the small group of female soldiers searching for their leader, Dorian was thrilled. Even if his little gray-eyed warrior escaped Julian Vincent’s clutches, she was sure to come after him if only to save her friend. Dorian had watched the way the women fought together, one always watching out for the other. That was true loyalty.

His loins hardened instantly as he was reminded of the woman he’d been waiting for. It had only been a few days, yet her arrival couldn’t come fast enough for Dorian. It was why he’d so badly used nearly every black-haired girl being kept prisoner on his ship. In his impatience, he’d hoped to heighten his pleasure by tricking his mind with another head of dark hair and another shapely body.

It wasn’t enough.

The girls Dolly brought to him were sad stand-ins for the one he truly wanted. Their hair was never nearly dark enough, that enticing shade of midnight black was nearly impossible to find among his captives. Not one of them possessed his lady’s gunmetal gray eyes. Most disappointing of all was that not one of them displayed her fiery spirit. It was for this that he punished them, bruising their flesh in his anger over the woman whose shoes they could never hope to fill. He sighed in frustration, taking a long drag on his cheroot.

“Let us speak of other things ma sœur,” he said as he lifted his glass to his lips once more. “I am anxious to set out for warmer waters, yet unwilling to part without my precious cargo. How long do you think we have before King Damien is alerted to my presence in Cardenas?”

Dolly shrugged, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she counted the days in her head. “Well, Barony and Cardenas are at least a seven day ride apart,” she said slowly as the wheels in her head turned sharply. “Let’s assume that King Serge was alerted the very day we left Barony. We have no way of knowing how much he knows. He might assume you are still in Barony and could still be concentrating his efforts there. It would be a welcome advantage.”

“If King Serge is as shrewd as I’ve heard he is, he won’t leave a stone unturned. He’ll want to send a messenger to Cardenas. If we assume the messenger is only a day or two behind us that gives us only three days before King Damien is sending his sentinels to the docks to search out The Raven. Mon Dieu, it’s too close for comfort.”

Dolly sighed, pulling at her ruffled, royal purple skirts. She toyed with the black lace edges in silence for a few moments before speaking softly.

“We could leave now and forget the girl.”

Dorian’s blood went hot in an instant and he crossed the room toward her, wrapping his fingers around her arm and jerking her to her feet. Dolly didn’t make a sound, but she did raise her eyes to his defiantly.

“Are you mad?” she said, her voice raising an octave with each word. “This woman will be the death of us! Would you see your sister, your only remaining relative, hanging at the end of a noose because of your uncontrolled fever for this woman?”

“Vincent can’t be more than half a day’s ride behind us. If he’s as good as they say he is, he might even reach Cardenas before we do. I’ve got this well in hand. You just make sure the others are kept in line and that you’re ready to make them presentable once we reach Martinique.”

Dolly nodded, jerking her arm from Dorian’s bruising grip.

She rubbed her pale flesh as she turned to leave. Dolly turned her pleading eyes to Dorian one last time as she stood framed in the doorway. Dorian’s resolved hardened.

“I won’t leave without her,” he growled as he jammed his cheroot into a nearby crystal ashtray. “Be ready to depart this inn at dawn.

~Chapter 9~

Julian had remained stony and silent over the last two days of their journey and Ava didn’t know if it was because she’d been into a position to kill him or because he’d failed in his seduction.

Failed? No. Julian didn’t know it, but he’d conquered her body and soul. Not a second passed when that kiss wasn’t running through her mind. As they rode together in the saddle, both their backs ramrod straight to keep from touching for too long, not a word had passed between them. Yet words hadn’t been needed. A disconcerting heat passed between them, growing and swelling until Ava thought the two of them would both go up in flames.

Simon remained silent as well, although Ava suspected he’d really been awake that night and heard everything. She’d caught him stealing little glances at her, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to figure something out but he never spoke.

The last two days had gone by in a blur of long hours in the saddle, dry oatcakes and more rabbit at mealtime, and quiet nights on her pallet under the stars. She and Julian seemed to have reached some sort of understanding, and the only time he touched her was when he was binding or unbinding her wrists with his ropes.

Ava now paced the small room at the inn where Julian had placed her under lock and key hours before. She knew the area well. Cardenas was only a day’s ride away.

For now, he left her in a windowless room, unbound, knowing that she had no means of escape. The spartan room contained only a small bed, a table with two chairs, a lit candle and a chamber pot and washing basin concealed behind a screen. Unless she wanted to bash Julian’s head in with the empty chamber pot, there wasn’t a weapon to be found or made. She supposed she could burn him with candle wax, but the pitiful stub barely held enough to coat her fingers. Not that she needed to make a run for it.

She was only one more day away from finding Blake and the kidnapped women, one day away from being free of Julian.

Strangely, just thinking of watching him walk out of her life forever made her feel empty. Oddly, she would miss their verbal sparring. Ava couldn’t believe it, but she would actually miss his constant ribbing and needling. It reminded her of her relationship with Vernon, but with a definite twist. Where she had absolutely no physical desire for Vernon, she could not say the same about Julian.

Could this be that feeling her friends had told her about? Could this be what Queen Isabelle felt for King Serge? The two were constantly at each other’s throats and when they weren’t he was making her smile with one of his witty quips. Moments later, the two could be seen kissing amorously. Within a few hours, the cycle would begin again and one would be left wondering how the two could stand the sight of each other.

However, Serge loved Isabelle and Ava had watched from a distance as Isabelle grew to love him back. Ava had always seen their fights as a natural extension of their passionate natures.

When she thought of Julian, she was immediately infuriated by what he’d done. She could not pretend to approve of what he was or what he’d been willing to do to her for money. Yet Ava couldn’t help the sympathy she felt for the young unclaimed boy Julian had been. Then of course, there was the way her body reacted in his presence. Just the thought of him now caused awareness to prickle at the back of her neck. It was insanity, pure and simple.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted Ava out of deep thought. Her heart pounded as she whirled toward the doorway expecting to find Julian. Relief flooded her when she found Simon there instead. She was not ready to face Julian just yet.

“This is probably the only time we’re going to have to speak alone, so I’ll get right down to it,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries.

Ava was taken aback by this, but managed to keep her face trained in an expression of indifference. She nodded and swept her arm toward the table, offering Simon a seat there. The two sat across from each other, the tiny candle stump flickering between them.

“What in God’s name is going on between you two?” Simon demanded, gripping the edge of the table tightly.

Ava didn’t even try to feign ignorance. “If I knew I would tell you.”

Simon wasn’t backing down. “I’ve known Julian my entire life and I’ve never seen him act this way around any woman, especially a lady.”

“I wasn’t...”

“I know,” he interjected with a wave of his hand. “I know you know that I was awake that night. I heard your story. It’s just that in the past even that wouldn’t have been enough to make Julian want you. The way he’s been treated by the nobility, he avoids them and everything they stand for. Last week that would have meant you, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Ava huffed indignantly. Her nature was one of quick decision; muddled confusion was new to her. “The two of you kidnapped me—”

“We have our reasons.”

“Kidnapped me!” she bellowed, rising to her feet. Her hands curled into fists on the table. “You mean to turn me over to Blake, a man who didn’t bat an eyelash as he made off with at least two dozen women right before my eyes. Julian hasn’t said a word about a change in plans and you want me to believe that he cares about me in some way? Will he release me from this room and send me on my way?”

“We both know what your plans are concerning Blake.”

“Julian does not. He still means to turn me over to him.”

Simon’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

“You’re a proud woman, Ava. You have reason to be from everything I know about you. Julian’s prideful too, you know, and because of it, the two of you could miss something. Hell, I don’t know what it is but I know it would be good for him. You were right when you said a home was where the people you love are. I think you’re the only one who can teach him that.”

Simon stood to leave and Ava felt her will dissolving. “What if he doesn’t want what I could offer him? What if we’re both wrong?”

This uncertainty was also foreign to her. It made her feel weak, something that she’d never experienced since the day she’d killed her mother’s rapist at the age of seven.

“What if we’re right?”

His final words remained in the room long after he’d passed through the door and locked it behind him.

What if we’re right?

If Ava was right, then the rapture she’d never experienced was now within her reach. She’d always wondered if there was something wrong with her, some reason why she’d never felt that spark for anyone. If a man as handsome and virile as Vernon couldn’t even arouse her appetite, then what man could?

Ava allowed her eyes to drift shut, hoping to catch at least an hour of rest before Julian inevitably arrived to check on her. Besides, if she was asleep, there was no way she could allow rational thought to invade and change her mind.

Julian Vincent.

He was the answer.

Julian stood in the doorway to the room he was sharing with Simon and watched as his friend slowly closed and locked the door to Ava’s room across the hall. He was moving as if he didn’t want anyone to hear or see him. As if he had something to hide.

Jealousy gripped Julian, coming upon him so suddenly that he felt weak from the force of it. His fingers tightened and curled into fists as Simon turned silently away from the door. The two came face to face, Julian’s cold, hard eyes lowering the temperature of the air around them by several degrees.

“How’s our little prisoner?”

Simon’s sigh hinted at agitation, which was further pronounced by the exaggerated rolling of his eyes.

“Honestly Julian, why don’t you just throw her over your shoulder and carry her off into the sunset already?”

Julian’s eyes drew into narrow slits and his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and your obsession with our ‘little prisoner’. You want her, Julian, and maybe if you weren’t so bullheaded you would see that she wants you too.”

This gave Julian pause. Of course, he wanted the little hellcat. But what could he offer her? A home bought with dirty money, that was what he could give her. Lady Ava Longley had no need of him and quite frankly, he wasn’t very excited at the possibility of her rejection. Why should she accept him after what he’d done?

No, the best thing to do would be what he’d wanted to do days ago. He was going to set Ava free and give Blake his money back. It was the least he could do, seeing as how he didn’t have the heart to leave her in the hands of such a lecher. Or he did have the heart. Therein lay the problem.

He couldn’t allow his feelings for one woman to derail his plans. Another job would come and money would follow. Within the year, that house on the hill would be his. Honest living would be his. Perhaps even a wife and kids would be in his future, once he no longer lived a life unsuitable for that sort of thing. By then she would be long gone and better off for having left him.

“I’m letting her go, Simon,” he admitted, his gut twisting as he said the words.

But I don’t want to. He didn’t dare say the rest aloud, but Simon knew him better than anyone.

“She could be yours, you know. If you would tell her what you want, how you feel.”

Julian shook his head. “She deserves better than me. Tomorrow morning I will return her to Gladstone. Blake will not have her.”

Simon’s eyes lowered to his shoes and the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that told Julian that he didn’t want to say what was on his mind.

“Tell me, Simon,” he said, knowing that he would not like what he was about to hear.

“Julian, she wants to go to Blake. She didn’t say it to me exactly, but I know she means to try to kill him. Whatever has happened between them, she’s out for blood. Why do you think a woman with her skills hasn’t attempted escape even once? That night when she held the knife to your ribs, she didn’t stab you, but she could have used it to cut her bonds. Didn’t it ever occur to you to wonder why?”

No, it had not, but if Julian had been thinking clearly, it would have. He’d been too wrapped up in his desire, too stunned by her boldness to think of little else. Ava had surprised him in so many ways already, yet this sudden news shouldn’t have surprise him at all. Now that it had been said, Julian saw Simon’s words as the truth. It had been in front of him the whole time.

“I can’t help but think that there’s something bigger than the both of us going on here,” Simon continued. “I don’t know what it is but I’m worried about her. We can’t let her do this alone…whatever it is.”

Julian smiled. “I thought you didn’t like the little vixen? What about your injury?”

Simon shrugged. “What can I say? After a while she grew on me.”

“Tell me about it.”

She’d grown on him too, in a way that Julian could never hope to change. He’d never known a woman with more bravery and spirit. Conflicting emotions warred within him as he realized he had also never known a woman to be more stubborn and foolish. Determination set his jaw.

“I won’t allow it,” he said before brushing past Simon and moving toward the stairs at the end of the hall. “Have a bath and a meal sent up to her while I figure out a plan,” he said.

With that, he was gone, heading straight for the dining hall downstairs. He hoped that within the next hour or so he would have come up with a suitable solution. It would have to be a good one. Ava was not likely to go with him easily.

After a hot meal and a bath in his and Simon’s room, Julian was ready to face Ava. At least, he was as ready as he supposed he could be. His only strategy was to reason with her and if that failed, there was always brute force. He hadn’t technically released her yet. She was still his for the time being.

Julian ran a hand through his damp locks as he jammed the key into the lock and twisted it. Amazingly, his stomach felt as if it had been tied in knots. How was it that one woman was able to make him feel like a young boy again? He’d had his first woman when he was fourteen, and had plenty since. Yet somehow, walking into Ava’s room felt different because he knew he’d do whatever it took to stop her, even if it meant seducing her.

When he closed the door behind him and found her sitting on the bed, the coils in his stomach twisted to new levels of convolution. He quickly slammed the door behind him just before his limbs stopped functioning.

“Hello Julian,” she said softly, the tone of her voice made seductive by the soft glow of candlelight in the dark room. Julian realized that even though it was barely dusk outside, her room was windowless and the candle he’d left her with was nearly gone. At some point, the replacement he carried had fallen from his hand to the floor.

He was quite certain that she was naked beneath the sheet that was pulled up over her chest. She’d never looked more beautiful or more vulnerable than she did at that moment with a crisp, white sheet over her body and her dark hair falling around her soft shoulders in artful disarray.

The smell of flowers lingered in the room from whatever she’d bathed with and aside from his rapid breath, there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Julian could feel her anticipation, knew that she was waiting for him to take advantage of what she was offering. She had no idea he’d come here expressly for this purpose. He hadn’t realized it until just then. Oh, he’d known it was a possibility, maybe even an inevitability, but until he’d seen her waiting for him on the bed, he hadn’t been sure. Now he was more sure of this than he’d ever been about anything else.

“Ava,” he choked as he took another step into the room. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried not to say anything stupid. “I was hoping that we could talk.”

“We will,” she promised as she scooted toward the edge of the bed. Julian found that he was unable to move as she inched toward him, the sheet still clutched protectively over her body. “But there’s something else Julian; something I need you to do for me.”

Anything, he wanted to tell her. Whatever she wanted could be hers right then if only she’d ask it of him.

“Yes?” he asked instead. He was acutely aware of the throbbing of his pulse, moving throughout his body in a thrilling sensation that ended at his fingertips.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, her eyes wide with honesty at her revelation. “I never really wanted to…until I met you.”

Her words both stunned and pleased him. That he would be the first to ever touch her sent a surge of primitive satisfaction through him. This way, at least for one night, he could pretend she was really and truly his.

“Ava,” he said again. It was all he was capable of.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she dropped the bed sheet to the floor. “No words now. After.”

Hunger knifed through him and struck his core with a deadly blow. She was just as he’d imagined her, every inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over soft feminine curves and lean muscle. The sculpted shoulders and arms told of her skill with an axe and bow, while the rounded globes of her breasts and tapered waist oozed feminine sexuality. The powerful contours of her thighs beneath the soft flare of hips created the sculpture that was her body, fulfilling his every expectation and reaching far beyond. But it was her eyes, the turbulent mix of seduction and uncertainty coupled with the imperious tilt to her chin that struck him the hardest.

Blood surged through his body and he regained control of his limbs. He used them to cross the room and pull her nude body up against him.

This time his voice was steady and sure, a deep guttural cry as he lowered his head to kiss her and groaned, “Ava.”

~Chapter 10~

Ava felt the last shred of uncertainty falling away as Julian swept her up into his arms. She expected to feel crushed, suffocated by his embrace, yet the massive arms that came around her were anything but confining. He held her firmly, yet with a laxness that told her it was all right to change her mind if she wanted to. As he kissed her his lips were soft and undemanding, telling her that she had every right to push him away if she so wished.

She pulled her mouth from his and stared up into eyes that burned brightly with desire. She lifted her hands and gripped his face gently, cupping his strong jaw tenderly.

“I need this,” she told him, urging him to believe her and cast away all doubt. She hungered him fully, without reservations and she didn’t want either of them to regret it. She begged him with her eyes to know that this was what she truly desired. “Please Julian.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached down to take her in his arms again. Julian scooped her up against his chest and walked over to the narrow bed, laying her down onto the remaining sheet.

“Don’t move,” he said. He turned away from the bed to retrieve the candle he’d dropped on his way in. After few seconds of fumbling, he replaced the old candle stump and flooded the room with a pale yellow glow. He smiled, genuinely and without a trace of sarcasm for the first time since they’d met and paused at the foot of the bed.

Julian stood there a moment, his eyes roaming over the hills and valleys of her form. As terrified as she’d been of his scrutiny that night by the pond, she was now without fear. As he watched her, she felt genuinely at one with her own body for the first time in her life. Her awareness of herself was stronger now than ever before. It seemed that every nerve ending was tingling with sensation and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

She watched with wide eyes as he removed his boots before pulling his half-buttoned shirt over his head. Fully clothed, Julian was both intimidating and thrilling to look at; unclothed, he was a work of art. Her eyes traced the ripples and lines of his impossibly wide chest and bulging arms shamelessly. They raked over the contours of his flat and defined stomach greedily.

He approached the bed that was almost too narrow to accommodate his large frame and lowered himself over her with ease. As his body made contact with hers, she sighed and closed her eyes, delighting in the feel of his hot skin against hers. His lips brushed over her forehead, down over her eyelids and cheekbones before finding her mouth, sending a rush of longing spreading across her skin. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair as he lifted her chin for a taste of her throat. As his fingers began their exploration, they paused at a small, puckered white scar on her collarbone.

He tore his lips away from her throat and gazed down at the scar marring her skin. “A knife wound?”

She nodded, tracing her fingertip over his as he caressed the scar just inches above her left breast. “I took a dagger to the shoulder in a skirmish with some rebels during the war.”

He pressed his lips to the scar before caressing it with his velvety tongue. “I hope you killed the bastard.”

She smiled. “His dagger found my shoulder, my sword found his belly.”

Julian smiled against her skin and kissed the scar again. “My little hellcat.”

He lifted his head to look at her, gifting her with another one of his charming smiles. Now she was beginning to see the Julian Vincent that drew the ladies like bees to honey. The man’s smile was the epitome of the word magnetic. She reached up to run her finger over the small white scar marring his perfectly shaped upper lip.

“Is there a story behind this one?”

He took her slender finger into the warm recesses of his mouth and swirled his tongue around it seductively before answering. Ava was so delirious with pleasure she almost didn’t hear his answer.

“Life for a young boy with no one to care for him is full of dangers,” he said with a chuckle. “Surprisingly one of the greatest dangers is other young boys with no one to care for them. One of them did this to me in a fight over bread.”

“You poor things, you must have been so hungry.”

Julian shrugged. “It’s all in the past Ava. I’m much more interested in the present,” he said with a sigh as he lowered his head to the valley between her breasts.

Then he really began to love her. Ava gave herself over to him, surrendering to the heat of his mouth and his hands on her body. He touched her, cupping her breasts and teasing their aching tips, running his hands along her ribs and waist before sliding over the flare of her hips and curves of her legs. Then there were his lips. They seemed to be everywhere at once, going where his hands had been and beyond. When his tongue caressed the underside of one breast, she gasped in delight. When it swirled over the hardening peak, she cried out in uncontrollable abandon.

All the while, the friction of his body against hers tormented. The aching slide of skin over skin, flesh against flesh, caused the ache in her to grow. The quivering need blossomed and unfurled within her until it had consumed her completely.

She touched him unrestrained, tracing her fingertips over the tightly corded muscles in his back as he moved over her, placing her hands against the smooth width of his chest. He groaned when she kissed him and exulted when her lips opened to taste his skin. Julian stroked her hair as she explored him, urging her on with `q

words that set her ears on fire and brought a rush of heat to her loins. When her fingers came to rest on the button at the front of his trousers, he grasped her wrist gently and shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said gently.

He captured both her hands in one of his large ones and lifted them over her head, leaving her completely at his mercy. He traced a path over one breast and down over her stomach before coming to rest there. His thigh nudged her legs apart as his free hand found its way between them. She couldn’t help but lower her gaze to watch, following the path of his fingers until they were parting the delicate folds of her most intimate place. The glide of his fingertips over her sensitized flesh elicited shivers up and down her spine that intensified into full-fledged tremors as he stroked and dipped his finger into her slickened channel.

Her gasp of pleasure was trapped between their lips as he bent to kiss her, never ceasing the exquisite torment of stroking fingers over wet, trembling flesh. She squirmed and writhed against his hold, begging him for more wordlessly, mindless with pleasure and starving for the rest. His grip only tightened, keeping her at his mercy as he dragged out his torture, bringing her to the quivering spasms of completion with only the touch his hand. Ava crested the edge and soared on wings of euphoria as the thundering climax rushed through her like a great crashing wave.

Her limbs went limp as Julian released her hands. He stroked damp tendrils of hair back from her face and kissed her forehead as he waited for her to come out of her languid trance. When her heart slowed and her thoughts cleared, she opened her eyes to find him watching her intently, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

“Is my captor amused?” she teased with a grin.

“Merely wondering why I didn’t use that method to subdue you in the first place,” he said with a chuckle. “Would have saved me the trouble of tying you up.”

Ava tried to fix her face into a stern mask of disapproval but failed. Her lips split into a wide grin as she gave up the effort. “I...”

Before she could speak another word, Julian’s lips were on hers again, stirring the embers of her yearning until she was enveloped in flames once more. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, amazed that he was able to invoke such a heated response from her mere moments after her explosive ending.

He smiled as his hands roamed her body once more. “Oh you and I have hardly even begun,” he said, his voice still raspy and thick with need.

Julian came over her again, this time allowing her to unbutton his trousers and free the rest of his body to her view. Between powerful thighs, the impossibly thick root of his masculinity rose proudly, filling her with both trepidation and need.

Never one to let fear possess her for long, Ava pushed aside her concerns over his size and the impending pain and reached out to touch him. Her hands wrapped around him and she closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of both his power and his vulnerability resting in her palm. Soft skin covered steel and the promise of pleasure beyond what she’d already experienced.

Her name rolled from his lips as her hands glided over him, stroking, cupping, learning his every inch. Then she was grasping his hips and pulling him forward, guiding him toward her entrance and demanding the completion she so desperately wanted. His earlier ministrations had left her ready for the oncoming entrance, although she knew that the pain was unavoidable.

As he filled her slowly, she buried her face in his neck and held on to his shoulders for dear life.

“Open for me and try to relax sweetheart,” he whispered against her ear, rustling the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck. Julian cradled her in his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world and kissed her shoulder. He gently nudged her legs apart further. “I’ll try to make this as easy for you as possible.”

Julian’s voice was so heavy with intensity and control that Ava knew she couldn’t make him wait a second later. He was paused at the barrier of her virginity, his breath caught in his lungs, his every muscle taut and straining as he fought to keep from tearing her in two.

“I’m a warrior, Julian,” she said with false confidence as she forced away the tension in her legs and back. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him with every slow breath she took. Ava flexed her hips against his in encouragement. “I can take the pain. Just please…make love to me.”

And he did.

He went slowly, allowing her to grow accustomed to his invasion of her body. An invasion it truly was, Ava realized as pain melted away into crashing waves of pleasure beyond everything that had come before it. His possession of her moved beyond that of the physical and as she pressed her lips to his, feeling the movement of him within the far reaches of her body, it passed over into the realm of the spiritual. Their connection became visceral, until she could feel him in every crevice of her body. As he threw back his head and cried out in his final release, she felt him as deeply as the darkest corners of her heart.

It was then that she knew she would never be the same again.

~Chapter 11~

Julian glanced down at Ava’s sleeping form and brushed a stray lock of wavy hair back from her face. Her lips were still slightly swollen and tinged pink from his kisses and her skin held the glow of a woman very recently and thoroughly loved. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles and kissed her before forcing himself from the bed.

It was almost dawn and Julian needed to work out a strategy for his impending discussion with Ava. If there was one thing he’d learned about her in the last few days, it was that Ava was as stubborn as a mule. If she had it in her head to go after Dorian then she was not going to let him stop her. His first mission then, was to find out what exactly she was up to. If she had a vendetta against Dorian, most likely it was tied to King Serge and Julian definitely didn’t want to be in the way of that.

As he watched her, he couldn’t ignore the nagging of his conscience. It was trying to tell him that making love to Ava had been a terrible idea. While it had certainly been the most meaningful sexual experience of his life, it wasn’t going to make it any easier for him to let her go. Most women were gone from his thoughts the moment he spilled his seed on the sheets, but Ava had been different. Julian hadn’t even bothered to pull away to avoid impregnating her. With that realization came the thought that perhaps he hadn’t because on some level he wanted Ava to be his, truly his.

Suddenly, he was horrified by his actions. He leaped from his chair, sending it crashing to the floor in his panic. What had he done? If Ava conceived, he would be sentencing her to a life of shame, much like the life his mother had lived. Would she hate the sight of their son too? Would the knowledge of where the child came from make her sick to her stomach? Would people call his child the name he’d been branded with?

Bastard.

No. Not his child. As Ava stirred and sleepily rubbed her eyes, Julian decided that it wouldn’t be that way for any child of his. He’d never thought of it before, which was strange considering the number of women he’d bedded. Now the thought wouldn’t leave his mind.

Ava stretched and yawned, causing the sheet to slip down to her waist. Julian’s blood rushed straight to his most instinctual organ, causing him to forget everything but her naked breasts. She smiled at him lazily, her eyes still heavy with drowsiness and satisfaction.

“Is it morning?” she asked, her voice husky from slumber. Julian’s gut clenched and his member throbbed painfully at the sight of her awakening. He wondered if she was always so fresh-faced in the morning, or if it was his loving that put the sparkle in her liquid gray eyes.

More important things are at stake here.

With that reminder, Julian lifted Simon’s shirt from the floor—Ava had refused to don her dress again, deciding that Simon’s clothes were much more comfortable for riding—and dropped it at the foot of the bed.

“There are some things we should discuss,” he said.

The severity of his tone wiped the smile from Ava’s face and her eyes became shuttered and defensive. She thinks you didn’t like it, he told himself with an inward groan.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, trying to lose some of the nervous tension that laced his voice. His hands shook with the effort. “You were amazing last night, truly. It’s something else. Something serious.”

She nodded silently as she slipped the shirt on. Julian turned his back as she stood from the bed and buttoned it. He heard her slipping the breeches and belt on as well. Ava joined him at the small round table when she was dressed.

“Your conscience is nagging you because you think you took advantage of me,” she said before he could begin.

Julian’s head snapped up and their eyes met. Her expression was blank but her eyes were turbulent. He knew her thoughts must be as confused as his own. What sort of sick relationship had come of this kidnapping?

“Yes,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “I was naked first, remember?”

He couldn’t help a smile as he recalled the moment.

“It wasn’t a bargaining chip, you know,” she said. “I didn’t do it to coax you into letting me go. I did it because I wanted to know what it was like. I wanted to experience passion for the first time in my life and I’m glad I did it. Do you hear me Julian? Even after you do whatever it is you plan on doing with me, I won’t regret it.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed as the truth of what Simon had told him reared its ugly head. He crossed his arms over his chest and prepared himself for the ensuing battle.

“Ava, may I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Why is it that a woman of your impressive skill on the battlefield and headstrong nature has not yet made a break for freedom?”

Ava’s eyes narrowed as well and two molten gazes clashed. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t make a sound. Julian had at least been hoping for a gasp of surprise. None was forthcoming.

“It’s just that you fought so viciously when we first captured you,” he continued when she didn’t respond. “I thought for sure I’d have my hands full with you for the entire journey. I even gagged you at first to save myself the trouble of having to listen to your incessant nagging, but you never even asked where we were taking you. Aren’t you the least bit curious, Ava? Don’t you want to know your fate?”

Ava stood, her hands gripping the table’s edge. “Tell me then, Julian. Tell me what you’re going to do with me.”

“You already know, so there’s no need for you to ask is there?”

“Tell me!” she bellowed, the strength in her voice reminding Julian that this woman was captain of an entire regiment. This was not a request. “I want to hear you say it!”

“I’m going to marry you.”

Ava’s eyes grew wide and shock filled their depths. Her hands dropped from the table and fell limp at her sides. “I don’t understand. That’s why you kidnapped me? But I thought—”

“The plans have changed, Ava. You and I will marry once I’ve returned you to Barony long enough to inform King Serge that you are well and sound. I’m sure that during the journey back we can come up with a reasonable enough excuse for your disappearance.”

Numb shock began to melt away and Julian watched the fight creep back into her eyes. “I know what your original plans were. What I don’t know—”

“We’ll get to what you don’t know in a moment,” he interjected, rising to his feet as well. He refused to be on uneven ground with her during this conversation. “What I want to know first, is what you know about a man named Dorian Blake.”

Ava’s lips turned up into a disdainful sneer. “The real question here is what do you know about Dorian Blake? What do you know about the man who paid you so much money to deliver me to him? Perhaps, he told you all about his stable of kidnapped women, some of them no older than fourteen. Maybe he even showed them to you. Tell me Julian, did you sample what the men in the West Indies will be paying for? Did you find the merchandise to be to your satisfaction?”

Anger and shame swirled within him in a potent mixture that left him feeling sick. Had he really fallen so low that he now dealt with a man who sold women in to slavery?

“Ava,” Julian said softly, his eyes unable to connect with hers. “I didn’t...”

“It doesn’t matter Julian, because you actually did me a favor. The night that you and Simon kidnapped me, I was preparing weapons and armor for my regiment. Our plan was to pursue Blake and his men after they kidnapped a group of women from Trilor. We have reason to believe that he’s kidnapped women in other areas as well. King Serge wanted him stopped and placed the burden upon my shoulders.”

The sickness increased as Julian remembered reports of raiders in Barony’s village. There had even been reports of them back home in Rinland. He hadn’t known about the kidnapped women or even thought to tie those events to a man like Blake.

“You were awake that first night,” he said. “You heard Simon and me discussing Blake.”

She nodded. “I knew then that I could use you to get to him so I played helpless. When you take me to him tomorrow, I have every intention of finding the missing women and bringing him to justice.”

“Ava, I won’t allow...”

“You won’t allow?”

Suddenly the space between them was gone and Ava’s slender index finger was jabbing him in the center of his chest.

“After all that has happened, you dare—”

He grasped her wrists in a bruising grasp, pulling her against him roughly. Fear for her mingled with his frustration over her stubbornness.

“I will not allow you to put yourself in danger!”

“I’ve been in danger from the moment I met you! ‘A means to an end’, right Julian? Isn’t that how you think of me? You were so convinced that I was like all the other ladies you’ve known and that I deserved whatever I was getting from that snake!”

“I didn’t know you then,” he whispered, his hold on her wrists slackening as he hung his head. “I wish I had.”

“You don’t know me,” she hissed, the venom of her words hitting him with precision. “You don’t know me at all if you think I’ll stop now. You owe me Julian. You will take me to him, leave me there then take the money and go on your way.”

“No! I won’t let you go to him.”

“Why, Julian?”

“Why, what?”

“Why do you want to marry me?”

Her sudden shift back to his original declaration surprised him. Ava’s calm and even tone surprised him even more. He found real curiosity in her eyes as well as something else. Hope? His heart dropped into his stomach and he gave voice to his very worst fear.

“You could be with child, Ava.”

Understanding filled her eyes, yet Julian also detected disappointment there as well. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed.

“You don’t want your child to be born without a father,” she said.

He sighed, relieved that she had seen things his way. “Yes,” he said. “We should wed immediately. We could—”

He was unprepared for the fist that connected with his jaw. His head snapped back and his thick body made contact with the table. If she was going to hit him, Julian would have expected a very exaggerated and feminine slap. He had forgotten what he was dealing with here. He vowed not to forget again.

When she came at him again, he was ready. Her second blow was aimed at his middle, but he caught her fist with his large hand and took advantage of her loss of balance to twist her arm behind her back. Julian’s other arm came around Ava’s waist and he pulled her up against him, trapping her between the iron band of his arm and the brick wall of his chest.

“Ava, try to be reasonable here,” he said, fighting to keep his hold on her as she squirmed in his grasp. She leaned back into his body, lifting both her legs from the floor before bringing one of them back to connect with his shin.

Pain vibrated up his leg and rattled his teeth. His hold on her slacked and she used the moment to jab her elbow into his middle. With a grunt, he released her and curled inward, not sure which hurt worse, his shin or his stomach.

Like a cat, she landed on her feet and leaped toward the table where he’d left the key. He recovered from the pain just in time to see her going for the key. Julian grabbed his chair from the floor and hurled it in her path, bringing her up short. Both the table and chair flew against the wall as one crashed against the other. The candle rolled to the floor and the flickering flame went out, casting the room into suffocating darkness.

“Ava,” he warned, his voice a low growl as he sensed her next move in the darkness. “Don’t.”

It was too late. She’d already crashed into him, sending both their bodies rolling across the floor. Knowing that his meaty fists could kill her, he stuck to trying to overpower her with his size, which turned out to be much harder in the dark than he’d thought. Before long, he was panting from the exertion and amazed at her strength. After awhile he lost her in the dark room.

Julian staggered to his feet, trying to quiet his harsh breathing, hoping that the blanket of darkness would eventually give way to the dim gray surroundings of one whose eyes had adjusted. He listened, wishing that Ava had put on her boots so that he could hear her footsteps.

That’s when he heard it, the whirring of something flying through the air.

Solid wood connected with his chest, splintering on contact. The force of it threw him against the door, which gave way and swung off its hinges under his weight. He flew through the doorway and landed in the hall, broken bits of chair raining down around him.

The bird-like figure of Ava soared over him with a running leap and disappeared down the staircase.

~Chapter 12~

Ava could hardly believe her luck. She’d known that a physical altercation with Julian had been a gamble, one that depended on what role Julian chose to play. It was fortunate for her that he’d decided to be a gentleman because, truly, all it would have taken to stop her was one of his massive fists against her jaw.

When she was able to go running down the stairs and out of the inn’s front door without Julian’s broad frame crashing down the steps behind her, she made her way toward the stables on swift feet. For the first time in days, she ran uninhibited, flying swiftly over soft blades of grass. Because he didn’t pursue her, Ava assumed that Julian had been knocked unconscious.

Her luck continued to hold when she entered the stable. The flame-red hair she spotted in the furthest left stall could belong to only one person. He seemed to be preparing the horses for their final day of travel and had almost finished with Julian’s mount. She eyed the black beauty covetously as she crouched down to the stable floor, moving across the soft hay on silent hands and feet in a low crawl.

With no weapon at her disposal, her greatest asset was surprise. Simon wasn’t prepared for the leg that swept him right off his feet or the swift twisting of his arm behind his back as Ava pressed her knee between his shoulder blades. With her free hand, she slid his dagger free from his belt. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she lifted his head and pressed the blade to his throat.

“Where did Julian agree to meet Dorian?” she hissed against his ear.

“I take it last night didn’t go well?” Simon asked, his voice calm and steady and tinged with boredom. He seemed genuinely unruffled by Ava’s attack and did not even attempt to free himself.

“Where?” she asked again while applying subtle pressure to his jugular vein with the knife.

“A ship,” he answered easily. “It’s called The Raven.”

Ava released Simon and grabbed the dark horse’s reins. As she swung herself up into the saddle, Simon stood, brushing hay from his clothes.

“He’ll find you,” Simon said as he leaned against the empty stall. He folded his arms across his chest and stared up at Ava, the warning in his voice reflected in his eyes. “When Julian wants something he pursues it and he doesn’t let it go.”

“That’s just it,” Ava said as she steered the horse toward the stable’s exit. “Your friend doesn’t know what he wants. In time, he’ll forget all about me.”

As Ava snapped the reigns and sent the beast thundering from the stable, she faintly heard Simon’s voice behind her.

“No, I don’t think he ever will.”

Ava didn’t even want to begin to think about that possibility. Right now, she couldn’t afford to think of anything outside of finding Blake and making him pay for what he’d done. She did not know how much progress her ladies had made in the tracking down of their prey, but she could only hope that were close to Cardenas. It would be even better if they’d already arrived. Ava prayed that she would meet them along the way.

Meanwhile, she had a full day’s ride until she reached Cardenas’ border and even then, it would be hours before she reached the docks. The captured bandit had revealed that the ship was set to sail that day. She could only hope that Blake wanted her badly enough to wait.

Ava pushed the horse as hard as she could, careful to rest and feed him when possible. She stuck to heavily wooded areas, hoping to lose herself in the trees in case Dorian’s men were out and about or Julian and Simon had pursued her.

The long ride gave her ample time to ruminate over the events leading up to this moment. What was supposed to have been a memorable and passionate experience was now tainted by Julian’s matter-of-fact marriage proposal. While she hadn’t been hoping for a declaration of love, his ‘you-might-be-with-child’ angle had caused her blood to run cold. The fear in his eyes had been undisguised and his regret had been clear. He obviously wished the entire thing had never happened and that was the last thing that she ever wanted. For as long as she lived Ava would remember that night fondly. She couldn’t bear the thought of Julian seeing it as something to forget.

As she neared Cardenas’ border, Ava vowed to do everything that she could to forget too. She’d always been taught that a woman could do anything a man could do; it had been her father’s mission in life to make her understand this. It was a code she lived her life by, and it was why she did what she pleased. Just as a man would after a meaningless sexual encounter, Ava would forget. She would soldier on as she always had and soon her night with Julian Vincent would be a distant and fuzzy memory.

Yet as she crossed the border in to Cardenas and began to make her way down familiar streets, she knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. Somehow, Julian had imprinted himself on her soul; somewhere within her was a piece of him, lodged so deeply that she could never hope to pry him out. Perhaps she would learn to ignore him and the pain would become a dull and nearly nonexistent ache. For now, it was the best she could hope for.

Hours later, Ava crouched beneath a first story window, peeking over the windowsill at one of the inn rooms belonging to Blake. Once in Cardenas, it hadn’t taken her long to learn that The Raven was still docked and its captain was renting rooms at The Gardenside Inn, a place that catered to people with money but without titles. Once she’d learned Blake’s location, she took half an hour to rest and eat one of the dry, mealy oatcakes Simon had packed for the journey. After that, she traded the rest of the cakes for a pair of boys’ boots. The boy, no more than sixteen, was more than happy to accept the parcel full of cakes. The bones showing beneath his pale skin beneath told Ava that the boy was practically starving.

Was that what Julian’s life had been like? Ava didn’t want to think of him that way, starving and helpless. It was just too hard to be angry with him when she remembered that he’d never known love in any form. It was no wonder he had no notion of how to go about proposing marriage. As she watched a woman with unnatural red hair moving about the inn room, Ava couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been too hard on Julian. At least one of them had been thinking beyond their single night together. He had been the only one to consider the consequences of their actions.

Suddenly, a large hand was clapped over her mouth. A man’s arm came around her waist, yanking her up against a hard and familiar body. Ava cursed herself for becoming so distracted that she couldn’t even hear approaching footsteps. At the same time, her pulse raced as a pair of lips pressed hotly against her ear.

“If I were you, I’d think long and hard about what I’m about to do,” he whispered, his voice laced with anger. Ava could feel the restraint he used in his handling of her. His hands practically trembled with rage. “If you’re thinking of trying to escape me, think again. After that stunt you pulled with the chair I have no reservations against rendering you unconscious with my fist.”

His words, plus the fact that she still held the edge of surprise over Blake, caused Ava to go limp in his arms. She would not fight him…this time. Julian backed away from the window slowly, trying to avoid making too much noise. When they rounded the corner and were near the stables, Julian swung her around to face him. He never lost his grip on her, using the iron band of his arm to keep her in place against his body.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Ava stared up at him defiantly, trying to ignore the tremors of awareness that shot through her at his nearness. “Exactly what I told you I was going to do,” she said through clenched teeth. “Blake hasn’t left for The Raven yet and I intend to apprehend him before he does.”

His arm tightened around her waist, threatening to cut off her air supply. Ava could have sworn she heard a low warning growl coming from his chest.

“You have got to be the most infuriating person I’ve ever known!” he hissed, his fingers flexing at her hip. “Yet somehow I couldn’t let you come and face him alone.”

“Why not?” she demanded, never breaking contact with his heated black stare. Whatever it was that Julian was thinking it was certain not apparent to her. The onyx depths were more unreadable now than they ever had been and Ava gave up trying to figure them out.

“It wasn’t as if I didn’t make my motives very clear.”

“I don’t know Ava,” he said, exasperated. “Perhaps you can help me understand it, because God knows I just can’t. I should have left you to him, but for some reason I just couldn’t walk away without knowing that you would be all right.”

The edge of his anger melted away at the last few words and he heaved a sigh, resting his forehead against hers.

“What are you doing?”

His sudden change in demeanor shocked her. It was as if someone had stuck a pin into him and deflated him completely.

“I don’t know.”

Then he was kissing her and she was deflated too, falling limp against him and bringing her arms up around his thick neck. It made absolutely no sense, their kissing by the stable with the setting sun behind them, danger in the form of Dorian Blake only a few hundred yards away, but Ava couldn’t seem to find the sense to stop it.

A familiar voice shattered the moment, bringing Ava back to the present.

“Would someone like to tell me what the devil is going on here?”

Julian’s eyes widened as he turned to find one of the largest women he’d ever seen in his life. She was his equal in height and though he outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, her arms and legs were thick with muscle. She led a group of soldiers, mostly women, each wearing breastplates bearing Barony’s coat of arms. Beneath the armor, each wore a tunic in shades of red and gold, as well as form-fitting brown breeches. Ava ran forward and launched herself into the large woman’s arms with a cry of joy. It didn’t take much longer for him to realize that these women were from Ava’s regiment.

“Nell, I’m so glad to see you!” Ava cried as she embraced the woman.

“Thank God you’re all right,” Nell said at the same time.

Julian felt tension pulling at his shoulders as he felt the eyes of Barony’s soldiers boring into him. Just behind the woman named Nell stood one of the smallest women he’d ever seen. If at all possible, her hair was an even deeper shade of black than Ava’s. Her slanted eyes were narrowed and fixed on him with suspicion. That distrust was also reflected in the eyes of the blond man that stood at her side, his arms folded over his chest. Several other female soldiers and two other males rounded out the group.

“Where on earth have you been?” Nell asked, glancing back and forth between Julian and Ava. “We’ve been worried sick. After you disappeared, King Serge charged me with leading a party in search of you. I was sick to my stomach at the thought that Blake might have you in his clutches already. And here I find you, not captured and…”

Her eyes traveled to Julian and held, filled with silent questions. Julian cleared his throat, fumbling for an explanation, any excuse for what Nell and the others had just seen. Ava glanced at him over her shoulder with a grimace.

“This is Julian Vincent,” she said slowly, obviously thinking over her words carefully. “He…he is here to aid me in the arrest of Dorian Blake,” she finished lamely.

“We thought you captured,” said the Oriental woman, her soft voice barely more than a melodic whisper.

“I was,” Ava said. “Julian rescued me and because he knew Blake’s location, he agreed to lead me to him.”

Silence followed as both women continued to eye him with distrust.

“I was hoping to find you here and that’s why I didn’t return to Barony,” Ava continued, a pleading edge to her voice. She had every reason to call for his arrest and expose him for what he’d really done. Instead, she was lying to save him. The magnitude of what Ava was doing hit him like a splash of cold water in the face. No one had ever done anything like that for him. In that moment, Julian knew just how badly he wanted this woman.

Before, these feelings for Ava were elemental, something visceral that he couldn’t explain. What he hadn’t bargained for was just how deeply Ava would wedge herself into his heart. While he’d never felt anything but distaste where well-bred ladies were concerned, Ava was different. She was more a lady than any highborn woman could ever hope to be.

He pried himself away from his thoughts reluctantly, knowing that now was not the time to explore those feelings any deeper. For now, protecting Ava at all costs was his goal. “Where is Mudiwa?” Ava was asking when Julian finally forced his focus back to the conversation. Silence fell over the group and nearly every person avoided Ava’s gaze. Ava’s breathing accelerated, sawing in and out of her lungs noisily as she looked from person to person, begging silently for an explanation. Whoever Mudiwa was, it was clear she was important to Ava. He brought his hand gently but firmly to her shoulder and squeezed in a silent show of support.

“Hanako!”

Ava’s forceful cry caused the Asian woman to raise her head, revealing eyes that had gone wide and were brimming with tears. Ava’s hand came up to her chest.

“Please tell me.”

“We split into two parties,” Hanako said, her voice wavering with grief. “Nell led the search party and Mudiwa led the rest of us in search of Blake.”

She paused, but Ava’s nod prompted her to continue.

“It happened so fast,” Hanako said, her voice trembling now. “She left our group for only a moment to hunt for game. We are not certain, but we think that some of Blake’s men stumbled across her in the woods. We heard a struggle and her cries for help, but by the time we reached the area she’d been in, she was gone.”

Hanako reached into a satchel tied to her belt and extended an object to Ava. It was a string of beads made of some sort of stone or shell. Ava cradled the necklace as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Besides three dead men, all we found was this,” Hanako said as Ava tied the string of beads around her own throat.

“He has her,” Ava said, her voice heavy with the emotion Julian knew she was fighting to keep from her face.

Hanako nodded silently and Nell finally found the courage to look Ava in the eye. Julian watched in awe as Ava’s spine snapped into a straight line as her shoulders and chin rose into the posture of authority. Lady Longley was gone and Captain Longley stood in her place. Determination flashed, a silver streak of light that reflected in her eyes.

“What of the messenger sent from Barony?”

Her voice now strong and clear, Ava took up the mantle of captain, easily putting herself back into the leadership position. Nell shook her head.

“Dead.”

“So we can assume that King Damien knows nothing about what’s happened, which leaves us on our own. Blake, however, doesn’t know this. He is probably thinking that the palace sentries are closing in on him as we speak and should be leaving for the docks any minute, if he hasn’t already. Blake won’t want to risk being arrested.”

“I think you’re forgetting one thing,” Julian interjected. “Blake’s determination to have you in his clutches goes beyond all reason. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s already aboard The Raven, waiting for you to be delivered.”

“How do you know all of this?”

The blond man who had been staring daggers at him from the beginning finally stepped forward and spoke.

“Vernon,” Ava said, pressing her hand against the man’s chest to keep him at bay. “Now is not the time.”

The two exchanged a knowing glance and whatever passed between them was enough to pacify the man named Vernon. He nodded silently and retreated into the group, seeming to trust whatever decisions Ava had made.

Julian frowned. Who was this Vernon and what did he mean to Ava? Jealousy boiled in him and possessiveness caused his hold on Ava’s shoulder to tighten. As his eyes clashed with Vernon’s, he hoped that his thoughts were clear. Ava was his now, no matter what had transpired between her and this stranger. With great effort, he choked back the warning growl simmering in his throat.

“Julian is right,” Ava continued. “When I was doing reconnaissance around Blake’s rented rooms, I found only a handful of his men and a woman. I say she’s the key to finding him. Whoever she is, she must be important for Blake to have left men guarding her.”

“A lover perhaps?” Julian said. “If she is sharing his rooms then she must be privy his location at the very least.”

“Right then,” said Nell, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Shall we draw straws to determine who gets to play kidnapper?”

~Chapter 13~

All was quiet at the dock. They’d found The Raven easily enough with the help of the woman who’d turned out to be Dorian’s sister. The men left to guard her were no match for Ava and her ladies. It hadn’t taken them long to take the woman named Dolly hostage and force her to give them the information they needed. The woman was now bound hand and foot and tossed over the back of Nell’s saddle like a sack of grain. Her face had gone ghostly white behind the thick layer of powder and rouge she wore, causing her garishly dyed hair to stand out like a crimson beacon in the dark night.

As they neared The Raven, a great hulking freighter with black sails and a human-sized statue of a raven in flight extending from its bow, Ava could faintly make out flickering lamplight, but not much activity on deck. The shadowy forms of a few men could be seen but from where they sat on the dock, gazing up at the ship, Ava couldn’t be sure if they were armed or even how many they numbered.

They dismounted and Julian lifted Dolly from Nell’s horse, hauling the girl over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a child.

“Keep your hands away from your weapons,” Ava whispered as they moved on silent feet toward the ship. “In this poor light we have no way of knowing if they’ve got guns trained on us. Be ready for my command.”

They fell quietly into formation around her, placing Julian and Dolly at the middle. As they neared the ship, Ava came up short and held up her hand for the others to halt.

“There’s no gangplank,” Nell said, giving voice to Ava’s concern.

Ava turned to Julian. “I thought you said he’d be expecting us?”

Julian shrugged, jostling the trussed-up Dolly. “He should be,” he said, his eyes scanning the ship’s deck.

“What aren’t the two of you telling us?” barked Vernon from the rear.

Before Ava could lash out with a stinging retort, movement from the ship’s deck caught her eye and she held up her hand for silence.

“My lady,” boomed a voice from the ship’s deck. “I’m so delighted to see that you’ve made it!”

“Blake,” Ava hissed as she rushed forward. She reached back to grasp the bow that Nell had given her, unsheathing an arrow and notching it to the string swiftly. The shadows converged into one large mass that, once illuminated by lamplight, turned out to be about fifteen men surrounding a very smug Dorian Blake. With one arm, he held a bound and gagged Mudiwa against his body and with the other, he held a dagger to her slender throat.

Gasps rippled through the formation behind her and one by one they lifted their bows and notched them with arrows. On the ship’s deck, every man drew a weapon and leveled it at their group. Everyone stood as still as death, not moving, not making a sound, locked in a standoff

“Steady,” Ava warned, never taking her eyes from Mudiwa as she lowered her bow. “Keep your arrows ready but do not fire without my consent. I won’t risk Mudiwa.”

“I have something that may be of interest to you,” Dorian said with a chuckle. He turned his head toward Mudiwa and buried his nose in her braided hair, inhaling deeply.

“She’s not nearly as valuable to me as you are, my lady, but she will most certainly do.”

Ava heard Hanako’s angry gasp behind her and felt Nell stiffen. Mudiwa remained unruffled, her eyes staring blankly off into the distance as Blake fondled her body lewdly. A snarl worked its way up through Ava’s chest and spilled from her lips before she could stop it.

“Let her go!” she screamed. “Give her to me or your sister dies!”

Julian stepped forward and set Dolly on her feet, turning her toward the ship so that Dorian could see their captive. She mumbled incoherently through her gag, but Julian’s firm arm and the bindings kept her from moving.

Dorian glanced silently down at his captured sister. Dolly’s eyes widened as the silence stretched on. She struggled and thrashed in Julian’s arms as the ramifications of what his silence meant hit her. When his demented laughter rang out over the quiet dock, Dolly’s muffled shriek rose to mingle with it.

“Keep the little bitch,” he chuckled. “I have only one interest, my lady knight, and that is you. I’d be willing to trade the African for you. That’s the deal.”

Ava dropped her bow and took a step forward. She would not allow Mudiwa to suffer in her place. If trading places with her sister in arms would assure her safety, then Ava would do it gladly.

“No!”

She heard footsteps behind her as Julian tossed Dolly into Vernon’s arms and rushed toward her. He grasped her arm tightly and yanked her back toward him.

“Ava, what are you doing?”

She turned to face him, struck to her very core by the depth of emotion she found in his eyes. If she ever had any doubts about Julian’s feelings for her, they’d just been laid to rest. She placed her hand over his and shook her head.

“Julian, I have to. She is in this position because of me.”

“No,” he said hoarsely, “she’s in this position because of me and you know it. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself like this.”

“I’ll come up with something,” she said half-heartedly. “He won’t have me in his clutches for long.”

“He won’t have you at all,” said Vernon from where he stood amongst the others, holding a now limp and passive Dolly. “Julian is right, Ava. We won’t let you do this. There has to be another way.”

“There is no other way,” she added, pulling away from Julian’s grasp. She turned to Nell.

“Promise you’ll come for me.”

Tears welled up in Nell’s eyes but she nodded. “Nothing but death would stop me.”

Ava turned back toward the ship only to be caught up by Julian’s strong arms once more.

“Damn you Ava, you can’t do this to me, not now. Please.”

“Why do you care, Julian? Are you still worried that I might be with child?”

“I don’t care about that,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if you are or not, I still cannot allow you to do this.”

Ava’s heart leapt into her throat and she choked on her next words. “Why not?”

“Because I love you! Is that what you want to hear Ava? I can’t let you go because I love you and the thought of you in danger would tear me to pieces!”

“Isn’t that romantic?”

Her euphoria at Julian’s declaration was shattered by Blake’s sarcasm. Ava glared at up at him, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the dagger at her side.

“It would seem that you have violated the terms of our agreement Mister Vincent,” he said as he shoved Mudiwa toward one of his men. The lackey wrapped his arms around Mudiwa and disappeared with her across the darkened deck. Blake eyed Ava with a scowl. “I could have given you everything, yet I can see that you’ve given yourself to this gutter rat like a common whore. Consider your friend as good as mine.”

“No!” Ava cried, lurching toward the ship as she heard the unmistakable clanking of chains signifying the raising of the anchor. “Damn you to hell, you son of a bitch!”

Julian and Nell grasped her arms tightly, combining their strength to keep her grounded as she kicked and flailed, screaming like an enraged animal. As The Raven floated out to sea, all that could be heard were the inhuman shrieks of the enraged lady captain. Between roars of anger, her words could be heard clearly across the water.

“I’ll come for you Mudiwa! Don’t lose hope! I’ll come for you!”

Julian watched the shattered and hollow shell that was once his Ava retreat farther and farther away from him. The moment The Raven had disappeared from sight over the horizon, she’d fallen to her knees on the dock and burst into tears. He and Nell looked at each other helplessly, neither of them quite certain what to do with a tearful Ava. Give him a screaming, clawing hellcat over a sobbing mess any day. Not one of them had known what to do with her.

When he’d knelt to take her in his arms she hadn’t fought him, only buried her face in his chest and sobbed some more. The force of her cries struck Julian dead in the center of his chest, and by then his guilt was insurmountable. As much as Ava wanted to blame herself, no one knew better than Julian just how much of this had been his fault. He intended to keep his promise to her. Julian would not rest until Mudiwa was found.

Once she finished sobbing she’d gone eerily silent, her shoulders sagging wearily. She’d allowed him to take her up onto his horse and cradle her gently as they’d followed Nell toward the palace of Cardenas’ king. Someone was going to have to do a lot of explaining and fast talking that would end in a ship being provided for the voyage to the West Indies. It would take as long as a week or more to secure a captain and crew, as well as stock an available ship with supplies enough for a long voyage. He knew it was wise to leave the talking up to Nell and Vernon, who were already acquainted with King Serge’s younger brother, but was prepared to do whatever it took if talking failed. There was not a moment to be spared and once Ava had snapped out of her stupor, she would want to be underway immediately.

After they arrived at the palace, King Damien retreated into his study with Nell and Vernon to be updated on the events of the last week. The queen, a stunning woman named Esmeralda, had ordered rooms prepared for them for the night.

“I won’t leave her,” he’d told her, tightening his hold on Ava’s waist.

Queen Esmeralda’s eyes widened knowingly and she’d smiled with understanding. “Of course not,” she said, lifting her hand to stroke a lock of hair back from Ava’s face. “The poor thing shouldn’t be alone right now. Why don’t you follow me to the room? I’ll have dinner sent up for the both of you.”

Ava had refused to take even a single bite of food, and for that reason Julian did not eat either. After penning a quick note to be taken by messenger to Simon—who he’d left behind in his search for Ava—he merely sat beside the bed, watching Ava’s stony face for any sign of life as a flock of maids filled a large bathtub with water. In the note he told his friend in as few words as possible what had happened and urged him to join them in Cardenas.

As the maids filled the tub he clasped her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly.

“Ava, I know that a lot has happened tonight and that you’re feeling shocked. You’re hurting for your friend, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all of it. I just…” he sighed, hanging his head over her hand. “I just need you to give me something so that I know you’ll be all right. I need to see that spark, Ava, that fire that I know you carry inside of you. Please.”

After a few minutes of complete silence, a resigned Julian released her hand and leaned back in his chair. Once the maids were finished filling the tub, they left, silently closing the door behind them. Ava’s hand on his knee startled him and he nearly leaped from his chair at the feel of her palm burning through the fabric of his breeches.

“Ava.”

She stared at him, her gray eyes dull and gray as ash. “We have to find her.”

Julian nodded. “Nell and Vernon are in conference with King Damien as we speak. I’m sure plans are already being made for a voyage to Martinique.”

“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”

“Ava, listen to me. This is not your fault. You should be blaming this on me. I am the one who kidnapped you and took you away from your ladies. Maybe if you’d been with them, this would never have happened.”

“You’re right,” she said, her expression grim.

Julian winced but was otherwise silent. He’d been waiting for her to speak for hours and if ripping into him verbally would put the fire back in her eyes, he’d suffer through it in silence.

“This is your fault,” she said, this time with a bit more strength behind her voice. “You did this, and it was a despicable thing to do.”

“I know.”

She held her hand up and shook her head for silence. “But…” a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. “If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have found each other and I can’t say I regret that part.”

Julian was stunned. His tongue felt like rubber in his mouth as he struggled to speak, to give voice to what he was feeling just then. He couldn’t. She stretched her arm toward him and touched his face gently before rising from the bed.

“We will find her,” she said with conviction as she lifted his face toward hers. “Together.”

“There’s my girl.”

Her eyes flashed once more, a molten silver hue in the light from the fire burning in the fireplace. She lowered herself to his knee and kissed his forehead.

“Quite a large tub for one girl,” Ava murmured as she stroked his shoulder-length hair affectionately.

His smile was wide as he ran his hands over her hips and up to her waist. His blood raced hot in his veins and his pulse throbbed as she lifted her hands to the buttons on her shirt.

“I wouldn’t want you to get lonely,” he said, parting the fabric to reveal her bare breasts. His breath caught in his throat as he placed a kiss on her collarbone. As he worked his way up her neck, he inhaled her sweet fragrance, a scent that was all her own. He’d come to know it, to treasure it. Julian wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

Tossing her shirt to the floor, he lifted her in his arms and stood her on her feet. After swiftly divesting them both of every stitch of clothing, he lifted her into his arms once more and carried her to the tub. He lowered her in first and then climbed in after her. The tub was just large enough for the both of them, giving him just enough room to maneuver her until she was sitting on his lap, facing him.

Cupping her hands, she poured water over him, soaking his chest and arms before dampening his hair as well. Julian leaned back against the rim of the tub and watched her through lowered eyelids as she lathered up her hands with a cake of sandalwood scented soap. He felt the tension leaving his muscles as Ava devoted her attention to his chest, smoothing the scented bubbles over his skin. The muscles in his abdomen contracted, rippling beneath her fingers as she worked lower, spreading the soap across his middle before doing his arms. He rested his head against the generous cushion of her breasts as she did his back and shoulders, kneading with a gentle pressure that had him nearly purring like a kitten. After she’d washed his hair, dedicating several minutes to massaging his tingling scalp, she rinsed him, pouring water over his body by the handful until the tub was filled with the suds.

He then repeated her ministrations exactly, pouring water over her and following it with the soap. His breath quickened and his hands trembled as he touched her, lingering over the curves of her shoulders and swells of her breasts. When his hands moved over budding nipples, bringing them to stiff peaks, she closed her eyes and groaned, sending a shiver through his body that leaped from the base of his spine and traveled outward. By the time he’d finished and rinsed her, he was dying to love her, to touch her, to be inside of her.

He ran his hands slowly up and down her arms, delighting in the tremors he felt going through her body at his touch. His eyes swept over her, from the wet tendrils of her waving black hair, to the slope of her shoulders and the delicate lines of her collarbones, to the swell of her breasts, full and heavy with desire, and down past her stomach where the water lapped against her skin.

“Beautiful,” he sighed, unable to resist leaning forward to take the offering of one inviting nipple into his mouth. She gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair, her body quaking with the force of the pleasure ripping through her.

“Ava,” he gasped against her skin, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

She looked down at him through lowered eyelids, her lips parted on a sigh and her cheeks flushed with passion. “Did you mean what you said on the dock?”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close until her breasts were resting up against his chest, and her lips were only inches from his.

“Yes,” he said. “Every single word of it, Ava. I love you. I know it seems impossible that anything could come of this, but I’d do anything to make you mine forever. Do you think that you could return my love, Ava? I know it wouldn’t be easy, but could you find it in your heart to love a worthless bastard like me?”

She brought the tip of her index finger up to his mouth, stroking over the firm upper lip and pausing over the scar there.

“Please Julian,” she whispered. “Please don’t call the man I love a bastard.”

With a joyous cry he flexed his hips upward, impaling her on the rigid length of his desire. Her surprised gasp melted into a spine-tingling moan as she went limp against him. Their bodies came together, locking in the most intimate of embraces as he loved her, fulfilling both of their deepest desires with every stroke of his body inside of hers. When she split the silence in the room with her earth-shattering cry and trembled against him in completion, he rose from the tub, carrying her across the room.

After toweling them both off he lifted her one last time and laid her on the bed, coming down over her and entering her once more to finish what he’d started. His hands traveled over her body as he leaned down to claim her mouth, tasting her lower lip before lapping at her tongue.

“Julian,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We should discuss—“ she gasped as he moved slowly within her, “—a child. What if there’s a child?”

He ceased his movements and lifted himself up onto his elbows to stare down at her. In his mind he could see the vision of a child with midnight black hair and Ava’s gunmetal eyes. He smiled.

“If you were to carry my child, it would be the single most beautiful thing to come into my life since I met you.”

She returned his smile and flexed her hips toward his, urging him to continue, to seal their bond completely in spirit. As they climbed the heights of passion together, he held her close and thanked the heavens for the blessing that was Ava. Never in his life had the future looked brighter.

~Chapter 15~

Dorian Blake glanced out over The Raven’s bow, watching as his beloved ship cut through the still water, tracing its path back home to Martinique. He shivered against the frigid morning, grateful that he was heading back home to a warmer climate and lifted a newly lit cheroot to his lips and took a long drag, savoring the smoky, smooth flavor.

Geoffrey appeared at his elbow and cleared his throat.

Dorian nodded silently, giving his old friend permission to speak.

“What will we do with her now? The African?” he asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Keep her below with the other women. I want her untouched until we reach Martinique. I will give my lady a few weeks to give chase and if I understand her as well as I think I do, she will. I’ll make good on my word and honor an exchange. If not, that little black piece of tail will fetch quite a price in Martinique.”

“She is African,” Geoff said with a shrug and a snort. “Un negre stupide and just as black as the natives.”

“Ahh,” Dorian said with a smirk, “But she is not a Carib and she is quite civilized. Her English is also quite good. We could dress her up—”

“Dolly would have—”

“We can dress her up,” Dorian repeated, shooting Geoff a heated glare at the mention of his sister’s name. She’d been valuable, but he wouldn’t have risked losing his dark-haired lady for her. Women like Dolly, with their dyed hair and gaudy taste, were a dime a dozen. Dorian had never been one for attachments and didn’t worry over his sister any longer than he’d had to. Girls like Dolly always landed on their feet.

“Dressed up like a real lady, she’ll bring in twice as much as the rest of them,” he continued.

“And your lady?” Geoff asked. “You still hope to get your hands on her?”

Dorian stroked his smooth chin, his vision growing hazy at the edges as he remembered eyes the color of ash and hair like billowing smoke. Ava….that’s what his hired kidnapper had called her. A fitting name for such a stunning beauty. His teeth clenched around the cheroot until it snapped in half, the glowing ember holding his gaze captive until it fell into the sea with a hiss and a sizzle. He pulled the other half from his mouth and tossed it over the side as well, turning to face Geoff, his face a mask of determination.

“Lady Ava will be mine. You can be sure of that.”

****

Two weeks later…

For Ava, the wait had been excruciating. Every day that passed only increased her urgency. The longer they waited, the further ahead of them Dorian would be. Every mile that increased between them minimized her chances of finding her friend unharmed. She knew that the stocking of supplies, soldiers and crew took time and that King Damien wanted to be sure they were more than adequately prepared for the journey. This did not do anything to hamper her impatience.

Only Julian’s steadfast presence had kept her grounded. She was grateful for the strength in his arms and the surety in his voice as he reassured her constantly.

As Ava woke to find him seated beside her bed on the morning of their voyage to Martinique, she rested her cheek on her palm and studied him with a sleepy smile. He was so incredibly handsome, she thought as she took a long, unguarded look at him. For the first time since she’d met him he was wearing finely tailored clothes, undoubtedly  provided by King Damien since Julian’s other clothes had been left behind. In his haste to catch her, he’d come with only the clothes on his back, which Ava was sure some maid had thrown into a fireplace by now. With snug buff-colored breeches showcasing his muscular legs, crisp white linen at his throat, a form-fitting morning coat of charcoal gray wool molded to his shoulders and his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, he was the very picture of a gentleman.

Ava smiled as she realized that there was still a hint of danger lingering there, a small part of him that couldn’t be disguised by any amount finery. Now she understood exactly how the ladies of the court had felt, entranced by the potent combination of refinement and ruggedness that was essentially Julian. In him, she had found the perfect blend to suit her. She never thought she’d be so fortunate.

Ava reached her hand out to him and found comfort in the gentle pressure of his palm against hers.

“Are you ready?” he asked, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “In a few hours we’ll be on our way. Simon arrived late last night by the way. He wouldn’t have allowed us to make the journey without him. ”

She sat up against the pillows and stretched, working the remnants of sleep from her tired muscles.

“I am more than ready,” she said. “The wait has been excruciating.”

Julian stood and joined her on the bed, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“About what?”

“Heatherton Manor. When I asked you about it before, you avoided the subject but I’d really love for you to tell me. Please.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, trying to picture the sprawling estate in her mind. She’d been there three times and only the first time had she taken the full tour. Yet for some reason, the details came readily to her mind and she found herself eager to share them with him.

“A few miles outside of Gladstone, you will find a simple wooden sign painted with flowers surrounding the words ‘Heatherton Manor’,” she began. “It points the way down a simple dirt lane lined by ancient oak trees. After a few more miles, the trees give way to sprawling farmland that stretches on for miles. On the right are rows and rows of wheat and other crops being tended by those that work the land. If you look closely you can see the homes of those cared for by Heatherton in the distance; quaint little cottages lining the land’s border.”

His fingers tightened around hers and he rested his head on top of hers with a sigh. Ava continued.

“And then, the path winds up over a hill. At the very top sits a mansion with large doors and windows with pillars between. The grass is greener there than any I’ve ever seen and wildflowers are allowed to bloom around the perimeter. Inside there are polished floors that smell like lemons and beeswax and a ceiling so high you’d swear the walls stretched up to heaven. The walls are paneled with rich, gleaming wood and spotted with beautiful paintings in gilded frames. A curved staircase leads to the eight bedrooms upstairs. There is also a library, a study, formal dining room as well as a smaller room for entertaining, and three sitting rooms. There is a small garden in the back where there are an abundance of roses, as well as a covered terrace and stable beyond.”

A few minutes of silence passed in which Ava, with her eyes still closed, pictured Julian walking through that great house. She saw him on the back of his great black mare, riding across the sprawling green land. She saw him in the garden, reading quietly or gesturing for her to join him with a mischievous smile. Suddenly, the prospect of living out her days at Heatherton Manor did not seem so very lonely.

“It sounds perfect,” he said. Ava could feel the raw intensity in his voice and knew that he was thinking of his childhood and what he’d lost. He had to also be thinking about what he’d been working toward and how very badly he wanted just what she’d described. She lifted her head and met his gaze with a smile.

“It’s too much for me alone,” she said, reaching up to stroke his jaw. “I’d go mad running about a house with eight rooms without someone to help me fill them.”

Hope flared in his eyes as he lifted his hand to cover hers. “Ava...”

“There’s a nursery,” she whispered, surprised at the lump rising in her throat. The magnitude of what she was asking, what she was confessing to wanting, was not lost on her. “It connects to the master suites by a back staircase. There is a child’s playroom filled with wooden blocks, baby dolls and toy soldiers. Perhaps it wouldn’t feel so lonely if someone were there to help me fill those rooms.”

He lowered his eyes. “Ava, you couldn’t possibly—”

“Want you? Love you? But I do, Julian.”

“You’re asking me to be the lord of Heatherton Manor. It is not something you should take lightly.”

She lifted his chin until he couldn’t avoid her stare and pressed her lips to his. “I’m asking you to be my husband,” she said firmly. “We could live in a barn for all I care but I am offering Heatherton to you as well; to that little boy who was cheated out of the life he deserved.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he rasped.

She smiled. “Just say you’ll do it. Say you’ll be my husband, Julian.”

“I would give you anything that you asked, my love. I know that you have been sick with worry for your friend. If you like, we can wait until you’re certain she’s all right.”

Ava thought over his suggestion. At first, it made perfect sense. How could she even think of embarking on a new and exciting stage in her life during such a dark time? Then she remembered her parents and the circumstances surrounding her birth. Out of the ashes of death, she’d been born, a light in the darkness of her parents’ misery. She’d brought them joy and solidified their love. She knew then that joining with Julian would bring her joy and light as well as hope. Without him, she’d never be able to weather the storm of guilt and grief she was feeling over Mudiwa’s kidnapping.

“No,” she said with all surety. “No, let’s not wait another day. If I recall correctly, the captain of a ship is endowed with the right to perform a marriage ceremony.”

All uncertainty melted away as he stood and took her into his arms, lifting her until her feet dangled inches from the floor.

“It hardly seems fair,” he said after he’d kissed her senseless. “If this is what kidnapping earns me then perhaps I should consider continuing in that line of work.”

“I think not,” she said with a growl as she tugged the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’ve captured your last hellcat,” she teased.

He smiled, lowering her to her feet and bringing his hands up to cup her face. “No my love,” he whispered. “It is you who has captured me.”

~Epilogue~

Julian stood on the deck of The Trident, the ship provided by King Damien for their voyage. Beside him stood both Kings Damien and Serge with Queens Isabelle and Esmeralda, come to see them off. Serge and Isabelle left Barony immediately upon hearing that Mudiwa had been captured and Dorian Blake had made an escape and had thrown themselves into assisting with the preparations for the party’s departure. Isabelle dabbed at red-rimmed eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief, her distress for her friend evident. Serge patted her hand periodically and crooned softly to her senseless words of comfort.

Hanako and Nell were there as well; neither of them was content to sit by and wait for news of their friend. At their insistence, they were along for the journey. All that remained was for them to cast off. Ava was somewhere below deck, stashing their belongings in their quarters. Before the sun set that evening, Ava would be his wife.

He extended his hand to King Damien, who took it in a firm grip.

“I cannot thank you enough for preparing for our journey with such haste,” he said to the king of Cardenas. “Your assistance has been invaluable.”

“Certainly,” Damien responded. “As my brother and I are tied by blood, so are Cardenas and Barony. If it had not been for the lady knights, Barony might have surely been lost. Lady Akua is a valuable and cherished figure in Barony as well as Cardenas. We will not rest until she is found.”

“Nor will we,” Julian promised. He only hoped that the fierce light of determination he’d witness in the African warrior’s eyes would be enough to sustain her until she was found.

“Please,” said the melodic voice of Queen Isabelle. “Find my friend.”

Julian took her extended hand and kissed the air above it with reverence and respect. “You can count on it, Your Highness.”

Just then, Ava appeared from below deck. She spoke with the captain for a moment before joining them. Julian’s eyes traveled over her lithe figure enfolded in a crisp white shirt tucked into flesh-colored breeches that looked as if they’d been painted on. The flair of her hips in the breeches and the swell of her breasts against a chocolate brown waistcoat sent fire through his blood faster than any ball gown ever could. His eyes traveled back up over the loosened top buttons and revealed skin, over the column of her throat and up to the raven black hair waving around her shoulders. Possessiveness flared within him as she reached his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was well and truly his.

“Now that all is prepared, perhaps we should be going,” the captain chimed in, once he noted that everyone was present and accounted for. The man was anxious to get going and there were still four stray people standing on the deck of his ship.

“Not just yet,” Ava said. Julian glanced down, confusion and anticipation clouding his eyes as he noted her excited expression. With a very discernible nod in King Serge’s direction, Ava stepped away from him and moved to join Hanako and Nell at the edge of their group.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he realized that every eye was fixated upon him.

King Serge stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his side. “Julian Vincent,” he said, “is it true that you rescued Lady Longley from certain torture or death at the hands of the criminal Dorian Blake?”

For the first time in his life, Julian was at a loss for words. What was this? After all that happened, was he now to be exposed for the kidnapping brute that he was? His mouth opened but no sound was forthcoming. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“It’s true Your Highness,” Ava’s voice cut him off. “If not for him I would most certainly be lost or dead.”

“Aye,” said Nell, stepping forward to clasp her cousin’s hand. “I know it to be true. Witnessed it with my own eyes.”

“And I as well,” Hanako chimed in, taking Ava’s other hand.

Julian’s chest swelled as King Serge smiled and drew his sword from its sheath.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Julian, absolutely stunned by the solemnity of the moment, had no choice but to obey. He bowed his head in true humility; no one knew better than he just how little he deserved this honor. Yet it seemed a just end for one who had been denied his heritage. He felt tears coming to his eyes and didn’t attempt to fight them as the tip of the king’s sword touched first his left shoulder, then his right.

“Do you, Julian Vincent, swear fealty to Barony, the land of your heart, to me, your ruler and king, and to our people and lands?”

“I swear,” Julian croaked, barely able to push the words past the lump in his throat.

“Before the witnesses gathered here, the Lady Knights of Barony, the King and Queen of Cardenas, as well as the Queen of Barony, I name you Julian Vincent, Knight of Barony. For your bravery and courage I bestow upon you an honor reserved only for those who display valor in the face of danger, along with all the rights and privileges that come with this station.”

Julian’s shoulders shook with the enormity of the king’s words as he was bid to rise. He stood on shaking legs, his eyes connecting with Ava’s across the ship’s deck. She ran to him, launching herself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

“Sir Julian Vincent,” she whispered in his ear. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. Is there anything you haven’t given me, my little hellion?”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead and grinned. “My hand in marriage.”

“Something I intend to rectify immediately,” he said before turning to the harried captain.

Although the man was desperate to be underway, he graciously obliged to perform the ceremony before casting off. Ava would not have wanted Queen Isabelle to miss it.

So with the smell of the sea and spray of the tide around them, the two were joined in marriage, sealing their bond with a kiss and a set of matching gold rings, a gift from Queen Isabelle.

An unconventional beginning to a marriage it might have been, but Julian had never been so content with a decision in his life. While it was true that they would not truly be home for months, he already felt as if he were there. He supposed that was the silver lining to his unnatural upbringing; all it took for him to feel truly at home was fierce and unconditional love.

Book Two: Beloved

~Prologue~

Dahomey, Africa 1845

Through the whispering blades of tall grass, nothing could be seen but the horns of the antelope. They moved slowly through the pasture as one, wading quietly through a sea of waving brown grass. The sun was high overhead, beaming down upon the glistening brown bodies slinking slowly across the field. Crawling in perfect formation, their bellies but an inch from the ground, their limbs moving in perfect synchronization, the hunters stalked their prey.

Each carried a carbine rifle in her right hand while still moving with swiftness and agility in a low crawl across the steaming desert. Their plain russet tunics and the painted white lines on their bodies tricked the loitering herd of elephants into seeing them as a peaceful group of antelope. The antlers fixed onto the iron hoops attached to their headbands added to the illusion.

Mudiwa Akua ignored the trickling bead of sweat that ran down her forehead and clung to her eyebrow. She itched to reach up and wipe the irritating trickle away, but knew to do such a thing while so close to a herd of easily spooked elephants could mean certain death.

Being of the gbeto, elephant huntresses, required a superior amount of agility and strength. It also demanded that one  tune out all distractions and concentrate on the hunt. One false move could send a pack of the massive animals into a stampede.

At the front of their ‘herd’ Baako, the most experienced gbeto present, paused. The rest followed her lead and went motionless, their bodies still close to the ground. Mudiwa’s fingers tightened on her rifle and her breath held in her lungs. Every muscle was tense, every nerve on edge as she peered up at the elephant herd. Her eyes traveled over wrinkled gray skin, massive legs, coiled trunks and the deadly ivory tusks. It was her first hunt, but Mudiwa had heard countless stories of gbeto being crushed beneath enormous feet, thrown by powerful trunks and gored on sharp tusks. Of their number, at least one third were not likely to come back.

Mudiwa vowed that she would not be one of them.

The irritating bead of sweat rolled down her eyelid and hung, suspended from her dark eyelashes. She blinked it away and held her breath, waiting for Baako to signal the beginning of their hunt.

With a sharp cry, Baako gave the signal and the gbeto leaped with her from the grass as one. The elephants went into a panic, their heavy footfall creating a trembling quake beneath the gbeto’s bare feet. Sharp blasts from their raised trunks rung out overhead as they swung their heads from side to side, sweeping their long, pointed tusks over the huntresses’ heads.

Mudiwa grasped her rifle with both hands and took aim at the chest of an elephant that had risen up on its hind legs. The rushing of air behind her told her to duck and she followed her instincts, just barely missing the reach of another elephant’s tusk. The elephant she’d been aiming at came down almost on top of her, forcing her to crouch and roll to avoid being crushed.

When she rolled to her back, she found herself staring at the elephant’s underside, and rapidly fired two rounds into its belly. As the elephant blasted another trumpet sound and roared in agony, three other gbeto lunged at it with their dagger’s drawn, slashing and stabbing at the animal relentlessly. Mudiwa’s heard the cries of one of the other women as she crawled toward another beast and realized that one of them had already been lost. The elephant before her had speared one of the gbeto with his tusk and now swung her back and forth. The woman screamed her agony, flailing her legs and arms as the elephant shook her mercilessly. Without a second thought, Mudiwa reloaded and fired a round into the back of the girl’s head to end her agony. Another round found its way into the side of the elephant’s neck. With a few expert swipes with her dagger, Mudiwa felled the beast, leaping aside to avoid its tumbling body.

When the party of gbeto huntresses returned to the palace, they dragged the bodies of four fallen women, wrapped in their quilted pagne garments which served to shield their corpses from dust and dirt. The rest carried their prizes, proof of their kills and gifts for the king. In Mudiwa’s arms were four elephant tusks and two tails, trophies boasting of her skill as a huntress. As they entered the guarded gates, now confined within the red clay walls of the palace, they were escorted into the king’s presence by ten opulently dressed eunuchs, the only men allowed within the palace walls.

As she knelt before her husband, Mudiwa felt pride at her achievement mingled with the bitter sting of loneliness and realization. She now belonged to this man, whether she liked it or not. Her willful and spirited nature had caused her parents to offer her to the king as a gift; at least, this was what her mother had told her. Mudiwa knew that it was also a way for her father, a clan chieftain to gain favor with Ghezo.

She’d been sent to the palace two years earlier, separated from her home, family and way of life, as well as her love, Asita. As Mudiwa and the other gbeto knelt before their husband king, Mudiwa closed her eyes and pictured the whiskey brown eyes of her only love. Asita, with his long, sinewy body and skilled hands. Asita, whose gaze set her blood on fire and her heart hammering in her chest.

Her skin burned hot as Ghezo eyed them, his gaze lingering on her for longer than the others. She felt his open stare on her breasts, bared as a show of respect as was the custom in Dahomey. Mudiwa raised her chin and met his gaze defiantly in a show of arrogance and pride that would have sent her father into a fit of anger. Ghezo merely smiled and turned his attention back to inspecting their trophies.

For her offering Mudiwa was allowed to keep one elephant tail and given a gift consisting of twenty cowries, two necklaces made of glass beads, and a pouch of tobacco. She thanked Ghezo for his gift and swiftly left his presence, flanked by two eunuchs. When she reached her quarters in the barracks of the Mino, Ghezo’s female warriors and the lowest tier of royal wives, she dismissed her escorts and leaned against the door with a heavy sigh.

She felt the small comfort of familiarity as she entered the two-room space that was her own. Akoko, a slave girl given by Ghezo, moved through the curtain separating the two rooms on silent feet.

“I see you have returned with many gifts from the king,” Akoko said as she accepted the necklaces, tobacco, and pouch full of cowries from Mudiwa. Mudiwa held on to the elephant tail, which would be added to the belt of her battledress and flaunted along with her other tokens. “Your first hunt was a success.”

Mudiwa nodded at Akoko’s back as the slave girl moved back through the curtain to store the items in the bedchamber. Mudiwa moved to the wooden chest in the corner of the room and laid her carbine and cartridge belt inside. She unsheathed her dagger and placed it on the low, square table in the center of the room.

“It was the most frightening experience of my life,” she admitted to Akoko, who was more than just a servant. The girl had become her one and only friend during her time in Dahomey’s capital and home of the royal palace.

“Four gbeto were killed today.”

Akoko reentered the room with a basin of water and a clean caftan.

“Frightening, you say? More frightening than that skirmish with the Egba last year?”

Mudiwa mulled over Akoko’s question as she allowed the girl to strip the dusty cokoto shorts from her hips. She shrugged aside her tunic and stared at the meager sunlight streaming through the animal-skin covered window. The battle with the Egba last year in Imojulu had been a crushing defeat for Ghezo. They’d lost many Mino; few died but most were captured and sold. Ghezo barely escaped with his life, and Mudiwa had a scar across her back as a souvenir. She shrugged as Akoko deftly washed the dirt, grime, and white paint from her arms.

“There were no elephants at Imojulu.”

Akoko finished her bath quickly before handing her mistress her favorite caftan; one made from a cloth woven by her love. She slipped the caftan over her head and sunk down onto the woven floor mats.

“I prepared a meal in anticipation of your arrival,” Akoko said once Mudiwa was seated.

“Shall I also prepare your pipe with the tobacco given by the king? I heard from one of Baako’s servants that what he gives is some of the best, traded with the French.”

Mudiwa nodded. “That would be good,” she said. “Akoko?”

The girl paused and turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“You prepared a meal.”

Akoko nodded. “Your favorites; fried yam cakes, cassava dumplings, manioc pudding and plantains.”

“How did you know I was coming back?”

Akoko smiled, a parting of her dark lips to display even, white teeth. Her black eyes glistened cheerfully. “I never doubted you for a moment.”

After Akoko’s delicious meal and a taste of Ghezo’s tobacco, Mudiwa retreated to her bedchamber. Fatigue pulled at her mind and soreness gripped her muscles. She stripped naked and sank onto her mattress with relief, pulling a quilted blanket up to her chest. She ran her fingers over the pattern, a depiction of her family tree, and thought of home.

As much as she hated to admit it, Mudiwa missed her parents and her siblings. She even missed her father, though her heart still ached when she remembered that it was his decision that had landed her here. Within the walls of Ghezo’s palace, she was a piece of property, only one of thousands of wives. Upon her arrival at the palace Ghezo and his chief eunuch decided that she would become one of the king’s third tier wives and join the ranks of Dahomey’s female warriors. Her pride and headstrong nature disqualified her from the first tier of wives, for which Mudiwa was eternally grateful. The first wives were those who were most beautiful and chosen to bear Ghezo’s children. Though the king often eyed her with lust, he’d agreed with the chief eunuch and her father that she was the perfect candidate for training with the Mino.

They were right. She’d more than excelled at training and managed to gain the respect of her fellow soldiers and officers. Her proficiency with the rifle was unmatched and her light feet and speed were unparalleled. It had taken her months to grow used to enduring pain but like all the other Mino, she’d been conditioned for it. As the months went by she grew stronger and more agile, outmatching every one of her fellow trainees. As much as she missed her old way of life, there was no mistaking that she was made for war.

She sighed again as she turned to her side and closed her eyes. If only she could be what she was born to be while keeping Asita for herself. Yet this could never be. While Ghezo never came to beds of his Mino, every wife of the king was to remain celibate. Any disobedience in this regard was punishable by death, and Mudiwa knew that for this crime the king showed no mercy. The wives of the king were sacred and to be respected. No man could look upon them without the king’s permission and no man could lay a hand upon them.

Mudiwa would never forget the horror on Asita’s face when she’d told him she was to be taken to the palace. He’d pulled her against is chest and stroked her hair, his fingers gliding over the dark braids adorned with cowries.

“I will talk to your father,” he declared as he kissed her forehead, capturing her with his beautiful eyes. The dark skin of his forehead crinkled with worry. “He knows how I feel about you. In a few days time, I will have the bride price he has asked for you. Surely he will give me that long.”

Mudiwa had set her mouth in a firm line and shook her head, sadness crushing her heart.

“No Asita. Mother and I spent hours trying to talk him out of it but he refuses to consider any other option. His mind is made up.”

“I will not give up, beloved,” he said, squeezing her in a tight hug. “I won’t let up until he has seen reason. You must trust in me.”

“I do trust you, my sun.”

She’d kissed him passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. ‘My sun’, it was what his name meant, but it was also what he was to her. That day he’d laid her on his mattress and made love to her as if would be the last time they would ever touch.

When Asita returned with her father’s steep bride price, Mudiwa’s eldest brother met him at the door. He’d given the heart-broken Asita terrible news. Mudiwa and her parents had left the day before and by now she was already a bride of the king.

Now she only saw him on market day, when she and the other wives went out to sell their handmade pottery and woven mats during times of peace. He’d be there with his beautifully made fabrics, though she never got more than a glimpse at his profile. All men were to turn their backs in the presence of the king’s wives, but Mudiwa knew that he always sensed when she was among them. The tight set of his jaw told her that he felt her eyes on him, caressing brown skin and dark hair, longing for him.

Mudiwa swiped a tear from the corner of her eye and shuddered, her body and soul longing for the man she loved so dearly. She tried to imagine his arms around her and his lips pressed to her shoulder, to pretend he was sleeping beside her, his body spooning hers from behind. With the memory of what it felt like to be close to her lover came an inevitable pain. Asita could never be hers.

~Chapter 1~

Caribbean Sea, off the coast of the island of Martinique 1857 (12 years later)

“I believe that I my orders were quite specific.”

“It couldn’t be helped. She would have killed us if we hadn’t stopped her.”

Dorian Blake turned his cruel, dark eyes on the man at his left. Geoffery’s neck burned red with anger as he pierced five members of the ship’s crew with his cool stare. Blake had indeed been very specific about the African captive’s worth. She was not to be touched, he’d said, and until now Geoffrey had been happy to see that the command had been followed. She had been locked below with the others, safe until a few of the crewmen had decided to drag her to their quarters to have a little bit of fun.

Now they’d gone and upset Blake, which was something no man Geoff had ever known wanted to do. The man was cold, calculating and devastating in his fury. By the look in his eyes, Geoff knew that those men were very likely to find themselves at the other end of a pistol. They were really quite lucky that they were within one day of Martinique or they would have found themselves keelhauled. Were that to happen, they would be wishing for the business end of a gun.

“Do not try to justify what you’ve done,” he barked at the man who’d dared to speak up in his own defense. “She wouldn’t have fought you if you’d left her alone like I instructed.”

Geoff eyed the dark woman with a small niggling of sympathy. The men had worked her over good before he’d been able to stop them. Fingerprints stood out, purple against her brown skin and a swollen bruise kept one eyelid lowered over a dark eye. With the uninjured eye, she glared at him from where she sat on the floor, hands tied behind her back. Blood trickled from her nose and from a gash across her forehead. The fury he found there burned hotter than Blake’s and Geoff tore his eyes away with a shiver. It was a good thing they’d gotten her under control. His crewmen were in similar shape and one had even been killed. The woman had spirit, he’d give her that.

Dorian pulled a revolver from the waistband of his breeches and removed half the bullets. He dropped them into Geoff’s palm and snapped the cylinder back into place before spinning it, a deadly gleam in his eye.

“Let’s allow fate to decide your punishments, shall we?”

Geoff took a step back as Blake walked up to the first of five sailors and placed the pistol between his eyes. He pulled the trigger. Every man on deck flinched in anticipation, but only the click of an empty chamber filled their ears. The first crewman sighed with relief, deflating visibly as Blake moved on to the next.

The second man was not so fortunate. When the gunshot rang out over the open sea and the man fell forward onto the deck, Blake merely stepped over his body and moved on. By the time he got to the last offender, three were dead. The last two standing glanced at each other with wide eyes, unsure of what was coming next.

Blake took the bullets from Geoff’s open palm and shoved them back into the cylinder. “When I give an order...” he snapped the cylinder into place and returned the gun to its place in his breeches. “I expect it to be followed. Do we understand each other gentlemen?”

“Oui capitaine,” they responded in unison.

Blake turned to Teeb, a beefy sailor who had a deadly reputation with the cat ‘o nines. There wasn’t a man on board The Raven that didn’t fear Teeb and his thick-handled, nine-tailed whip. “Ten lashes each for their impertinence,” he commanded.

Geoff turned his back on the dismayed expressions of the remaining men and fell in beside Blake as he crossed the deck toward the injured African. Her long, lithe legs were curled beneath her and her full breasts were thrust forward by the bindings holding her arms behind her. Her chest heaved with heavy breath and her uninjured eye flinched as they leaned over her.

“Have Dolly clean her up and put her in your chambers until we dock in St. Pierre. You’re not too dignified to sleep in a hammock in my quarters tonight, are you Geoff?”

“Monsieur, your sister…”

“Oui, find the lazy cow and tell her to clean up this mess and stop the bruising in her blasted eye!”

“You left her to the king of Cardenas, remember? By now she is probably hanging from the end of a rope.”

Blake frowned as if trying to recall , stroking his smooth chin. Geoff waited patiently, knowing that Dorian’s madness was responsible for his absent-mindedness. No one knew the cause of the affliction and Geoff had never found the courage to ask. He merely tolerated it as the pay was good and Blake had done him a favor years ago that still required repayment.

“Hmmm,” Dorian mumbled as he narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Of course. I had forgotten. I don’t suppose that was the best of ideas, was it? The ungrateful bitch did have her uses. Ah well, there’s nothing for it Geoffrey. You’ll simply have to tend to the girl yourself.”

“Me, Monsieur?”

“You’re the only one I trust to keep your hands to yourself. I know that your tastes run in less…conventional directions.”

Geoffrey shifted uncomfortably and jerked at his collar. It wasn’t common knowledge that he preferred men and he so hated that Blake felt the need to constantly bring it up. He tamped down his annoyance faster than it had risen and nodded.

“Of course,” he answered, bending down to take the girl by the arm.

He pulled her to her feet and moved across the deck with her in the direction of his cabin. Though he knew the girl spoke English, she’d never uttered a word in his presence. However, she did follow him docilely to his cabin.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he sighed. “And not an ounce of trouble out of you, comprendre? I do not intend for you to be the death of me.”

****

Mudiwa paced the small but comfortable cabin, her hands clasped behind her back. The stiffness in her muscles had finally abated and while she was grateful to have this room to herself, she felt guilty at the knowledge that there were about sixty women still locked in the humid, damp brig below.

She’d lost count of the days, but estimated the length of the journey to be about four weeks. If she wasn’t mistaken, one of the crew had said earlier that their destination was only one day away. What then, she wondered.

Mudiwa remembered with everlasting shame the day she’d been captured. When the captain of Barony’s female soldiers had been abducted, she hadn’t hesitated to join the search party. The women’s regiment was a sisterhood and their tightly forged bond motivated the women to find their lost friend. After arriving in the strange land, Mudiwa had found herself feeling lost and out of place among the people of Barony. Ava Longley was the first person to make her feel welcome and see past the differences in their skin color. Once Ava had accepted her, the others followed suit.

Ava had been impressed with Mudiwa’s handling of a rifle and offered her a position as a lieutenant. Mudiwa had gladly accepted and found herself a part of a close-knit family. Not since she’d been forced to leave her home and taken to King Ghezo’s palace had she felt so loved and accepted. These women had filled the gaping void in her heart left by what she had lost.

Mudiwa left the search party with her bow for only a moment, hoping to snare game for their evening meal. That moment had been all it took for Blake’s men to pounce. While she’d taken two of them down, the others had simply overpowered her. Even a warrior with her experience and strength could not hold her own against six men.

Until this morning, she’d gone relatively unscathed, though she longed for a hot meal and a bath. She’d been locked away with the other kidnapped women from Barony, sweating in the muggy brig and surviving on two meals of gruel, bread, and water every day. The smells of unwashed bodies and slop buckets had filled the confining space, reminding Mudiwa of the last time she’d been taken prisoner on a ship. Now the smell of unfamiliar men clung to her skin and she prayed fervently for a bath soon, so that she could scrub their hands from her body as well as the evidence of their assault from her thighs.

She sank down onto Geoffrey’s feather mattress and buried her face in her hands as the faces of those she loved filled her mind. Akoko and Asita, both dead now because of her. What had she been thinking, allowing her friend to aid in her deception? The trio had paid dearly, although Mudiwa thought her fate had been mild compared to what Akoko’s and Asita’s must have been.

Mudiwa would never have used Akoko as a go-between for her and Asita if she had imagined they would be caught. The slave woman had only wanted her happiness and knew how deeply she loved Asita. Her dark eyes had twinkled with a young girl’s fantasy of love as Mudiwa told her stories of her passionate encounters with Asita. The two had spent hours over an evening fire, their heads bent close lest they be overheard, whispering of a love forbidden.

It had been Akoko’s idea to carry messages back and forth between the two. At first, Mudiwa refused, fearful of Ghezo’s wrath if he should find a message written in her hand to another man but two years in the palace had filled Mudiwa with loneliness and longing that went unquenched. No matter how many heads she collected on the battlefield or how many gifts Ghezo poured out on her in exchange for elephant tails and tusks, she would never be content. Without Asita’s touch to quench her desires and his smiles to warm her heart, she was dead inside.

So began years of covert messages and secret meetings. Akoko was perfect in her role, sneaking the lovers’ messages from one to the other with a deftness that far surpassed that of Ghezo’s spies. She’d smuggled him in and out, dressed as a eunuch, as often as she could and stood guard outside of Mudiwa’s quarters as the two made love and shared meals inside.

It was during those times, after hours of passionate coupling, that Asita would vow to find a way to sneak her out of the palace.

“Upon the ancestors I swear to you, beloved, you will be mine someday.”

Mudiwa would merely smile and press Asita’s head to her breast, cradling him there tenderly. She would never be so cruel as to tell him what her mind already knew and her heart denied. As long as she resided within the four walls of the palace, they could never be.

Mudiwa straightened and tried to clear her mind, focusing on what could be in store for her on this island called Martinique. Blake’s obsession with her friend had reached a fever pitch, and the man meant to use her as a bargaining chip. Mudiwa knew that Ava had been willing to sacrifice herself to save her, but she was glad that the others had stopped her. While she was terrified at what Blake could do or have done to her, she tried to remain hopeful. Ava’s promise had followed their ship as it left Cardenas’ port.

‘I’ll come for you!’ her friend had shouted and Mudiwa believed it with all of her heart. In the years she’d come to know Ava, she knew that no challenge was too big for the fiery captain. She would fight to her last breath to save one of her fellow lady knights. Mudiwa only hoped that Ava would arrive in time.

~Chapter 2~

In the midst of the sparkling blue Caribbean Sea sprawled the chain of islands known as the Lesser Antilles. Among them, Martinique rose up out of the water, a mountainous island covered in lush, green foliage. At its highest point stood the ash-spewing volcano known as Mt. Pelee. Mudiwa, who stood bound between Blake and Geoffrey, had overheard some of the sailors expressing fear over the volcano’s periodic rumblings. They were put at ease by Blake, who insisted that other than tainting the white beaches of the northern part of the island and creating black sand, the mountain was pretty much harmless.

As The Raven made port, Mudiwa listened to Blake’s shouted orders to the crew. Guard shifts were to be organized and the women were to be kept in the brig until Blake had met with the madams and brothel owners he intended to peddle them to. Now that Blake had left his sister in Cardenas, Mudiwa supposed he would enlist his right hand, Geoffrey, in the grooming and cleaning up of the captives. More wagons were sent to aid in the unloading and transport of goods traded in Barony. Mudiwa supposed that the furs, fabrics, liquor, and coffee beans had been bartered for legally. Blake’s only illegal activities seemed to be in the kidnapping and sale of innocent women.

Mudiwa felt the eyes of the crew on her, particularly the narrowed gazes of the only two men left of the group that had attacked her. She refused to look their way, but raised her chin as she studied the busy port of a city called St. Pierre with shrewd eyes. Mudiwa knew that they were looking for any sign of distress, some indication that they’d broken through her hardened veneer. She wanted so badly to turn on them, to tell them that she’d killed hundreds of men, felled giant elephants, climbed through thorny vines without wincing at a single prick and endured living in a cramped box on board a slave ship; nothing they could do would break her.

Instead, she merely studied the dock, her eyes taking in the stunning mix of people that inhabited the island. There were the white-skinned, opulently dressed men coming and going from the decks of their ships. As she was shoved down the gangplank, she heard their voices and realized they were French. She wondered how many of them had visited Dahomey and traded with Ghezo, guns for slaves. French women moved among them, dressed in cool muslin gowns with ruffled parasols shielding their porcelain skin from the brutal sun.

There were dark-skinned Africans whose features and builds matched her own, though their language was one Mudiwa did not know. These people were foreign to her as well. The men moved about on deck under the command of their French employers, moving crates of traded goods.  Women herded children away from the busy men, many balancing trays of produce or containers of water on their heads.

Dotting the ocean of bodies were people of colors in between, in a curious array of variety that left Mudiwa wondering where they all came from. Everyone seemed to know his or her place and everyone appeared to have some place to go or something to do.

Lining the dock were warehouses and distilleries, with the sprawling city of St. Pierre beyond. Crawling up the mountains that framed the business and cultural center of Martinique was endless jungle with farmland carved through it in large patches, along with the occasional plantation manor.

Blake grasped her arm tightly from one side and Geoffrey from the other and before she knew it, she was being bustled into a waiting carriage. Blake and two other crewmen stepped up into the conveyance with her. Geoffrey stayed behind, supposedly to see about the distribution of the kidnapped girls. Mudiwa glared at Blake across the dim, jostling carriage as they left behind St. Pierre’s dock and industrial district and found smooth, paved streets.

Blake locked eyes with her and grinned, his soft laughter a sickening sound that caused Mudiwa’s stomach to turn.

“I hope that my men weren’t too rough with you,” he said softly as he leaned forward. “Although you blacks are quite the little savages. Perhaps you enjoyed it, eh?”

Mudiwa felt her chest expanding with rage and her vision grew hazy around the edges as she imagined wrapping her long fingers around her abductor’s throat. Her jaw clenched as she stared back at him, refusing to speak.

“Never fear, you shall be returned to your people shortly. If I know your Lady Ava, and I think I have come to by now, she will not rest until she is certain you are not harmed. So long as she is willing to cooperate, you will not be harmed again.”

Mudiwa couldn’t stop the question that lingered on her tongue. It was what she’d been wondering ever since she’d been taken. “And if she doesn’t?”

Blake shrugged. “I’m sure there are plenty of brothels around here that would love to have you, a strong-spirited darkie.”

His arm shot across the small space and gripped her chin, forcing her forward until their faces nearly met in the middle. Mudiwa’s teeth ground together and her nostrils flared. At the moment she felt strong enough to snap her bonds, so intense was her desire to kill the man with her bare hands.

“Geoffrey thinks you’re like the other blacks on this island, those insipid Caribs who became so easy to control once enslaved by the French or even the ones brought over from Africa, but I know better. A strong-spirited thing like you…” he chuckled and his breath brushed up against her cheek, sending bile rising up in the back of her throat. “Let’s just say they’re going to have a hell of a time breaking you.”

Blake’s eyes lowered over her grimy and travel-worn clothes and he smiled. His free hand traced a path over her thigh-hugging breeches. “On second thought I might take the time to break you myself.”

Fury shot through her like lightning and before she knew what was happening, Mudiwa had lurched forward, slamming her head into Blake’s face. He yelped and fell away from her, clutching his bloodied nose. Mudiwa felt a wave of satisfaction curl the corner of her mouth as she watched Blake’s eyes water.

“God damn it!” he bellowed as he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and pressed it to his face. Once he’d pulled the blood-stained fabric away, he glanced up at her in disbelief as if unable to believe she’d been so bold.

“You little bitch,” he growled as his hand shot out to connect with her cheek.

Pain exploded in her face and radiated up into her left eye, but she didn’t even flinch as Blake settled back into his seat, his laughter savage and heinous as he studied her in the carriage’s darkened interior.

“Oh yes,” he murmured as he folded his handkerchief and shoved it back into his pocket, “I think you and I will get along just fine.”

****

Lady Ava Longley stood at the railing of The Trident, the ship taking her and her small band of rescuers to Martinique. With each passing day she grew more and more restless. Finding Mudiwa would become harder with every second that separated them from the island. They were already two weeks behind Dorian Blake and his crew. By now Mudiwa and the other abducted women would be on the island and possibly sold.

Would Blake hold true to his promise of waiting for a possible trade? If so, then there was a chance that at least her friend could be saved. King Serge had urged her to try to find the other missing women, but a selfish part of her wanted only to find her friend and leave.

The strong arms of her husband came around her and his large hands gripped the deck railing on each side of her. Ava smiled and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against his impressively large chest.

“Not much longer, my love,” said Julian, his lips finding the top of her head. “Soon this will all be over.”

“Where are the others?” she asked as she turned to face him, remaining within the circle of his embrace.

“Hanako is below deck doing God knows what. Nell is right over there, talking to Simon.”

Ava frowned and followed her husband’s gaze. Her brow wrinkled at the sight of her cousin standing a few feet away, her blue eyes sparkling with cheer as she laughed and talked with Julian’s best friend.

“What’s this?” she asked, watching as the two spoke in hushed tones, their heads bent together against the whipping wind and spray of the salty sea. In all her life, Ava had never seen Nell act in such a way around a man. Was she…flirting?

Julian chuckled. “Quite they odd pair, aren’t they?”

“I’ll say.”

While the two were matched in height, Simon’s reed-slim frame was offset by Nell’s thickly muscled one. Their lowered heads seemed to clash loudly in the bright noonday sun, his vibrant red against her sun-bleached blonde. Julian shrugged and draped an arm over her shoulders, steering her toward their cabin.

“It is good for them,” he said as they walked. “Surely you don’t begrudge your cousin her happiness.”

“Of course not,” she answered, her mind still reeling from what she’d seen on deck. “It’s just that Nell has been married once before. When Carmine died, I never thought I’d see her so happy again. It’s nice.”

“Anything is possible I suppose,” he said as they re-entered their cabin. “Look at how things turned out for us.

Ava smiled as she moved once again into the arms of her husband, allowing herself to forget, for now, the plight of her dear friend

~Chapter 3~

The carriage came to a stop in front of a townhouse of yellow stucco with a red tile roof. The two-story structure was flanked by identical houses and more of the same lined the cobbled street. Blake and his two assistants steered her toward the front door where they were met by a large and intimidating man Mudiwa could only assume was a butler of sorts. With his beefy neck and shoulders and jagged scars lining one side of his face, he was unlike any servant Mudiwa had ever seen.

“Welcome home, Monsieur,” he said gruffly his voice a strange blend of accents, French and something Mudiwa couldn’t identify.

She was shoved toward the large man and fell against him.

“Put her somewhere under lock and key for now, François,” said Blake. “Have Amiliaya tend to her. You may unbind her once she is within her chambers, but she is to remain under close watch. I am holding you responsible for keeping her within the walls of this house, François.”

"Assurément,” he said with a bow before clasping Mudiwa’s arm and steering her toward the stairs.

Just as they reached the second landing, a woman with caramel colored skin and wide green eyes came flying past them. She bounced up and down and clapped her hands with joy like a child, but her buxom curves set her age at no younger than eighteen.

“Dorian!” she squealed, her accent the same strange tone as François’. She threw herself at Blake and wrapped her legs around his waist. The slit in her brightly printed skirt fell open, revealing one plump thigh. Her dark, waist length hair enveloped them in a dark curtain as she leaned in to kiss him full on the mouth. “Ma cher, you are home! How I’ve missed you.”

Dorian gently pried the young girl from his body and set her on her feet. “Hello my pet. Did you miss me?”

Mudiwa rolled her eyes as he patted the girl on top of her dark head like the pet he’d called her. She squealed with delight again and proceeded to bounce up and down impatiently.

“What did you bring me?”

“Ah, there’s plenty of time for that later.”

The last words were muffled as François pushed her along up another flight up steps to the third floor. At the end of a dark hallway, he swung open a door, revealing another staircase that led to what Mudiwa assumed was an attic.

“Up you go,” the beefy butler said.

Once unbound and left inside of the tiny attic room with a candle, Mudiwa turned in a slow circle to assess her surroundings. The low ceilings made it impossible for her to stand up straight and the musty smell mingling with the humid air was suffocating. There was a tiny, circular window at eye level and through the dirty glass, she could faintly make out the splotchy shapes, people, walking down the street or riding in open carriages. With a heavy sigh, she sank down on to the narrow cot pushed up against a wall. She sat her candle on the floor beside the bed and located a crude and dented chamber pot, obviously left for her use.

As she stared off into darkness, she placed her chin in her hands and allowed her mind to wander. By her estimation, Ava and the others had to be no more than one to two weeks behind them. At this point, she wondered if it would benefit her to wait to be rescued or make a break for freedom. The prospect of being on her own in a strange country did not appeal to her, but neither did staying trapped in this small box of a room.

She would allow a few days to pass and try to gauge Blake’s mood. There was no way Mudiwa was going to allow him to sell her to a brothel or ‘break her’ as he’d so crudely put it. She hated to just sit around waiting for help, but at this point, it seemed the best thing to do. Without her friends’ help she’d be lost on this strange island and the fate of the other captured women…she couldn’t bear to think of that now. All she knew was that not another person would lose their life because of her. Those women would be saved and Mudiwa would see Blake brought to justice.

A few hours later Mudiwa was jolted from a light sleep by a key scraping against the lock. Mudiwa sat upright on her mattress in time to see a petite woman with reddish-brown skin moving through the door with a loaded tray. She was a pretty girl, young and petite with shiny black hair braided down her back and almond-shaped brown eyes. Mudiwa envied the girl’s pristine white blouse and colorful skirt. They looked cooler than her thick breeches, tunic and boots. She’d been wearing the same clothing since she was captured and longed for a clean shirt at the very least.

The girl stepped into the room and pushed the door closed with her foot. She stepped forward and extended the tray to Mudiwa, who took it, retreated to her mattress and studied its contents with a sharp eye. She was surprised to see that most of what was on her plate resembled things she would have eaten in Dahomey. Mudiwa smiled as her gaze roamed over the small portions of pineapple and plantain. She hadn’t seen a pineapple in years.

“Is good,” the young servant girl said with a tentative smile and a nod. She extended her hands and nodded. “Eat, please.”

Mudiwa dug in to curried pork, the twisting in her stomach easing slightly with every bite. After weeks of gruel and water in the ship’s brig, she was grateful for anything she could chew. She took a sip of water and watched the quiet servant girl from the corner of her eye.

“You must be Amiliaya,” she said.

The girl nodded. “Yes, Amiliaya. English not very good.”

Mudiwa couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds good to me. It’s not my first language either.”

“I know. You not from here?”

Mudiwa shook her head. “No. Are you?”

Amiliaya shook her head. “No. Many of us here. We are, how you say, indentured. Tamils from India.”

Mudiwa had heard of indentured servants. She felt bad for anyone stuck with Dorian for any period of time. She merely nodded and continued eating.

“You are hurt,” Amiliaya said, taking a small step forward. “I will help. Mother teach to use witch hazel and aloe. Will get better.”

Mudiwa devoured the last of her pineapples and drained her cup. She set the tray aside and motioned for Amiliaya to come closer. The girl’s eyes widened and she glanced back at the door as if expecting someone to come running in to drag her away.

“Mustn’t stay too long,” she warned as she came forward.

Mudiwa nodded that she understood. “Can you tell me about the big man, the one that answered the door?”

Amiliaya visibly shuddered. “Scary man. Work for Monsieur Blake. Boss of servants.”

“How many servants?”

“This small house. Only four. Bigger farm with more servants on mountain.”

“A plantation?”

Amiliaya nodded. Mudiwa tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Does he bring many women here?”

Amiliaya’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no! Not since bring Mademoiselle Tanya.”

“The young girl who kissed him?”

Amiliaya rolled her eyes and frowned. “Spoil girl.”

“His mistress?”

Amiliaya nodded. “One of many. Monsieur Blake busy man.”

“Any others like me? Locked up?”

Amiliaya lowered her eyes, twisting her hands together in her lap. Her chin quivered but she nodded in answer. Mudiwa felt trepidation crawling up her spine as she leaned toward the young Tamil girl.

“What happened to them Amiliaya? What did Blake do with them?”

Amiliaya’s eyes flew up and locked with Mudiwa’s. She trembled and shot to her feet. “Gone. Dead.”

Without another word, Amiliaya took up Mudiwa’s tray and ran for the door.

“Wait!”

Amiliaya paused, the tray rattling in her shaking hands. “Must go. Stay too long.”

Mudiwa sighed. “All right. I’m sorry Amiliaya. Thank you for helping me. Do you think you could find some clean clothes and maybe water for a bath? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Amiliaya pulled the door open and started to find François on the other side. He stared past Amiliaya, his narrowed gaze fixed on Mudiwa.

“No trouble,” Amiliaya said as she breezed from the room. “Come back in morning.”

François stood in the doorway a moment longer, eyeing Mudiwa with suspicion. After a few moments in which he decided that she posed no threat to him or his master, he firmly closed and locked the door.

~Chapter 4~

Simon felt nothing but relief at finally stepping foot on dry land. The island of Martinique loomed before them, unknown and foreign, but he knew that they were all up to the challenge of finding the lost lady knight as well as the other missing women.

As he turned away from the ship’s rail, he spotted Nell coming toward him across the deck, a vision of loveliness that took his breath away. Despite her large frame, she moved with a delicacy and grace that captivated him. Her sunny disposition belied her fierce reputation, and when Simon looked upon her, all he saw was a beautiful woman.

“How’s my pretty girl this morning?” he said with a smile as she neared where he stood.

Twin circles of pink appeared on her full cheeks .

“I am well and you know it Simon,” Nell said, covering her mouth to suppress a giggle.

“Such a rosy tint to your cheeks my lady,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on his heels. He leaned in toward her and winked. “Was it a lover that put the sparkle in your eye?”

Nell giggled again and walked away, moving to join Ava and Hanako at the bottom of the gangplank. Simon smiled and watched the woman who’d stolen his heart walk away as Julian appeared at his side.

“I never would have thought,” Julian said with a smile as he appeared at his friend’s side.

Simon shrugged. “Neither would I, but there you have it,” he replied. “When we get back home I’ll make her my wife.”

Julian’s hand clapped Simon’s back and the two embraced. “What will become of us, Simon? Two former swords for hire now domesticated…married for Christ’s sake! Whatever will we do with our time?”

“Start making babies I suppose. Isn’t that what all men want; to leave something behind that carries their name?”

“Not such a bad prospect my friend, especially considering the Longley ladies. They are quite a pair. Strong. Faithful. Loving. We couldn’t have done better if we’d tried.”

“We don’t deserve a bit of it.”

Julian laughed again, something he was doing more often thanks to Ava. Simon found he liked his friend’s newfound sense of humor.

“No, we don’t,” he replied. “But let us thank the heavens for our good fortune and keep quiet.”

The two moved to join the ladies, flanked by a small contingent of soldiers sent along by King Serge. Everyone was happy to be on dry ground and at least a bit closer to finding Mudiwa.

Simon noticed that their group received none of the attention he’d been expecting. Among the colorful inhabitants of the island a group containing a redhead, a hulking beast of a man and a tiny Japanese woman, drew little or no notice. In fact, there were several people of Asian descent moving about the dock. Simon made a note to remember to bring this to Julian’s attention. Hanako could be useful in gaining information. Dressed in native clothing, she would fit right in and perhaps gain trust that he or Julian could not.

As he glanced toward Hanako, he noticed that her face had gone unusually pale. While he didn’t know the woman well, he had learned that she was quiet and reserved. Hardly speaking unless absolutely necessarily. When she did, it was with a razor sharp bluntness and precision. She had struck him as someone with a quiet power; beautiful to look at, but as untouchable as a thorny rose.

Just now, though, she reminded him of a small child. Terror filled her eyes for a fraction of a second, but melted away as she noticed Simon watching her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, moving forward to take her arm. “Perhaps the heat is a bit much for you.”

She seemed to think this over for a moments before nodding her head slowly. “Yes,” she said in her soft voice. “The heat. I’m certain once we’ve found an inn and had a meal I will be just fine.”

“Here, take my arm while we walk. Lean on me if you must Lady Kiyomi.”

Hanako gifted him with a small, toothless smile. Just a slight up-turning of her lips. She bowed her head in acceptance and accepted his assistance.

“You are most kind. Thank you.”

As the group made its way through the docks, scanning left and right for any sign of a hirable ride, Simon glanced back over his shoulder once more. The imposing figure of a man dressed in muted shades of brown sent a shiver down his spine.

Wearing a long, deep brown robe and matching, wide-legged trousers, the man with features similar to Hanako’s stood on the dock, watching as their group drew further away. Dark hair flowed down his back, and neatly trimmed facial hair grew above his lip and at his chin. Even from this distance, Simon could feel his frigid, coal black eyes on them, narrowed and calculating. He felt Hanako’s hold on his arm tighten, and glanced down at her. She shook her head slightly as if in warning and raised a finger to her lips. Simon nodded in understanding and continued on, putting the mysterious stranger out of his mind for now.

****

“They’re here.”

Dorian smiled at his longtime associate and confidante. Geoffrey was as staunch as ever, standing stiffly in the doorway to his chambers. Dorian lounged in his favorite chair, a glass of iced Ti' punch at his side and a lit cheroot in his hand.

It was good to be home. He had all of his creature comforts back. The sweltering island heat, his beloved rum and his newest diversion, the lovely mulatto, Tanya. His body reacted instantly to thoughts of her and her lovely yellow-brown skin. The girl was a wildcat, insatiable as any girl he’d ever had. Tanya was young, ripe and foolish. She was the perfect combination for a man like Dorian who liked his women submissive. While Tanya had plenty of spirit, she wasn’t the type to go against him. Perhaps it was why he’d kept her around for so long, while he usually tired of women easily. Dorian changed his women as often as he changed his clothes, whether seducing young maidens at Barony’s court, wooing a French demoiselle or going after a ripe island girl. He’d been married dozens of times and was quite certain that the last few hadn’t even been legal. He had a woman waiting for him in every port and Tanya was only one of many, his current plaything.

All of that would change once he had the woman he truly desired. Perhaps Lady Ava would sate his needs once and for all. Maybe, once he had her under his control and fully submissive to his will, he would be satisfied. If not…well, she’d make a very lovely trophy. He would take her out whenever he wanted and flaunt her with pride.

Hearing that his lady had arrived on Martinique brought him nothing but pleasure. Tanya was sure to bear the brunt of it tonight.

“This is good news Geoffrey. How long has it been?”

“Three days. I would have come sooner, but I’ve been organizing the auction.”

“Ah oui, the auction. When is it?”

“This evening.”

Dorian stood and drained his glass before jamming his cheroot into a crystal ashtray. “Bon! I should dress. Tell me, mon ami, why is it that you are looking so distressed? The merchandise will be sold in a few hours time and you will be paid your commission. My lady is on the island and hunting for me as we speak. All is going as I have planned. We should be celebrating! Qu'as-tu?”

Geoffrey jerked at his collar and frowned. “Well, it would seem that they’ve already begun their search for the women. In fact, two of the brothel madams sent messages to me today declining our invitation. It would seem that they were threatened by our lady and her friends and want nothing to do with the women we have for sale. I fear there may be others as well.”

Dorian felt an all too familiar rage pounding at the base of his skull. It was something he’d first felt as a child when he’d killed one of his father’s slaves for tripping him with a stick. A few pounds to the head with a rock and the little slave boy was no more. It was then that Dorian had first felt the bloodlust that pounded within him now, filling him with a need to hurt, maim, kill. His fingers clenched and unclenched as his vision blurred. Dorian’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened in fury.

“There is one other thing,” Geoffrey offered tentatively, backing away from Dorian. “I saw them as they were leaving the ship…your lady and her friends. She had our hired kidnapper with her, Julian Vincent.”

Dorian grinned wickedly. “Good. Killing him will only sweeten the deal.”

“I am trying to tell you….when I saw them walking on the dock, they were both wearing rings. Wedding rings, Monsieur.”

Dorian’s vision went nearly black as his rage swelled to even greater heights. He knew that Vincent had betrayed him by changing his mind about the kidnapping, but knowing that his lady was now tied in marriage to the fiend pushed him beyond all reason. She was his and no others! He couldn’t stand the thought of her with Vincent, moaning in ecstasy beneath his great hulking body. The thought of it turned Dorian’s stomach and caused acidic bile to rise up in his throat.

He wanted to hurt her, show his lady that he could cause pain too! Dorian wanted her to feel the same torment he was feeling now. His eyes lit up as he remembered his little captive upstairs. The heated blood in his veins rushed straight to his loins as he thought of her supple curves and feisty spirit. She was the perfect tool. Imagine his lady’s anguish if she were to find her friend, beaten and bruised, used in the most foul way by him.

He turned his evil, gleaming eyes on Geoffrey and smiled. “I’ll teach the little whore to toy with my affections!”

Leaving a troubled and confused Geoffrey behind, Dorian left his chambers and strode down the hallway toward the door at the end leading to the attic stairs.

“François! Apportez-moi la clé de grenier!”

François appeared in an instant at the top of the stairs, the attic key in hand. Dorian snatched the key and waved François away, confident that he had things well in hand.

“Can I help anything, Monsieur?”

Dorian cast an annoyed glance at his Tamil servant, Amiliaya. She bowed her head subserviently and folded her hands in front of her, but Dorian sensed her ulterior motives. The servant thought to intercede on the little prisoner’s behalf. He knew Amiliaya cared about the African woman. She’d been the one to insist upon clean clothing and a bath. She spent more time in the attic room than Dorian would normally allow, but he’d been in such good spirits since arriving in Martinique that he’d allowed it to go unremarked.

Now that all of that was dashed, he would not tolerate Amiliaya’s interference. “Être allé, you stupid cow! Be gone!”

Amiliaya cowered away from his raised hand and bustled back down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen where she belonged.

Dorian unlocked the attic door and took the steps two at a time. He found his captive in a most scintillating position, topless and bathing her body at a basin full of water. Dorian’s lust surged and his need to possess and conquer took over. He strode into the room and grasped the African around the waist, tossing her over his shoulder.

A gasp of surprise was his only argument and for a moment, Dorian thought she meant to take his assault lying down. He smiled in satisfaction as she began to kick and flail, pounding her fists against his back.

The noise brought Tanya from her room and she gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she watched the man she loved toting another woman to his bedroom.

“Dorian! Que faites-vous?” she cried as she ran forward, tears blooming in her eyes.

“Who are you to ask me what I do in my own house?” he snarled, turning his rage on her. “Remove yourself from my site or you will be next. And trust me my pet, what I have in store for her you will not be so happy to experience.”

Tanya folded her arms over her chest and stomped her foot childishly as Dorian shifted and tightened his hold on his prey. She went still for now, but Dorian knew better than to think she’d given up. Leaving a stunned Tanya behind in the hall, Dorian disappeared back into his chambers and slammed the door.

~Chapter 5~

When Blake stormed into her tiny attic room, Mudiwa couldn’t have been more shocked. She had seen neither hide nor hair of him since her first day at the townhouse and was starting to think he’d forgotten about her. Mudiwa was just beginning to consider devising an escape plan, when he appeared in front of her.

She’d been caught off guard, stripped to the waist and unarmed, when he’d grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder. Mudiwa had gone limp in an effort to conserve her strength and now that he was tossing her onto the bed, she was ready to attack. She waited patiently, silently as he locked the door before approaching her, climbing onto the bed and straddling her hips. She stared back at him defiantly, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Here it was, the perfect opportunity to both kill Dorian Blake and make her escape. She would not miss that chance.

He gripped her face in a bruising grasp, lowering his head toward hers until their mouths were almost touching. Mudiwa swallowed her revulsion and remained still, her every muscled coiled and ready for the ensuing fight.

“Your little friend is no lady,” Blake rasped as he moved his hand down to her neck. He gripped the column of her throat lightly with just enough pressure to threaten her. “She’s shown me just what little whore she can be by marrying that son of a bitch Vincent. Well, n'importe. I will show her just how cruel I can be. I will finally get my chance at breaking you, my little black whore.”

As Dorian’s hands lowered to the fastening of the skirt Amiliaya had given her, Mudiwa took that moment to strike. She forced her legs out from under Dorian’s and wrapped them around his waist. Using all of her strength, she reversed their positions until she was straddling him, her forearm pressed against his throat. She put her weight behind it, knowing that this method was more effective than using her hands on a man’s neck. Within seconds, his face had turned purple.

As he choked and grasped for air, clawing at her arms ineffectively, Mudiwa brought her head down toward his neck, biting down as hard as she could. Dorian yelped and curled one hand into a fist that crashed into her jaw with stunning accuracy. Stars and bright colors swirled before her eyes as he reared up from the bed, taking her with him.

He turned and slammed her against the wall, banging her head against the solid wooden panels, furthering her disoriented state. His hand came up to her throat again as he held her against the wall with his body, her legs now dangling on either side of his hips.

“There it is,” Blake rasped, his voice affected by Mudiwa’s prolonged choking. “That’s the spirit.”

Forcing herself to remain conscious and focused, Mudiwa resumed the fight, landing two solid blows to Dorian’s face. He staggered back, dropping her to the floor as he clutched his already bruising eye. Mudiwa struggled to her feet, searching the room frantically for a weapon. Dorian charged at her, arms outstretched his face a contorted mask of madness. Now consumed by his anger and bloodlust, he had given her the upper hand by losing control. He tackled her to the floor and punched her again, this time just under her eye.

It was then that Mudiwa looked up and noticed an intricately carved commode directly behind and above her. As Dorian’s hands found their way back to her throat, undoubtedly trying to render her unconscious, Mudiwa stretched her arms up to the commode’s doors, yanking on the handles with both hands. The doors flew open and she grasped the heavy copper chamber pot inside, finding it blessedly empty.

Dorian didn’t see the pot coming.

It hit the top of his head with a loud ‘clang’ and he fell into a lifeless heap on top of her. Shivering with disgust, Mudiwa shoved his body off hers and stumbled to her feet. By now the clamor had alerted the whole house to what was going on in Dorian’s chambers, but in seconds, the growing silence would be telling. How long before they wondered which of them was unconscious or dead.

She had only minutes.

Isaac Arnaud Prideux IV was sick and tired of the Godforsaken island of Martinique. As he stood on the pillared terrace overlooking all that his father, grandfather and great-grandfather had worked for, he felt in the pit of his soul an absolute emptiness. As his eyes traveled over acres of sugar cane and banana groves, he didn’t feel a damned thing; none of the spark that his father seemed to feel at the thought of making money off of the backs of slaves.

While the Caribs and Africans had been free on this island as well as the whole French empire since 1848, he felt none of the pride his father felt at the Prideux family’s legacy. There were generations of men before him who’d become wealthy because the slave trade and the grueling work of the sugar cane fields. It wasn’t as if there was anything else for a man in Isaac’s position to do. Martinique—and the entire West Indies for that matter—revolved around sugar cane. The British needed it for their tea and cakes and the islanders needed it for their rum. Aside from politics, there wasn’t much else and while politics was certainly appealing, it would not do for the son of Isaac Arnaud Prideux III to be seen favoring the natives of the island. If he were to throw his hat into the political ring, his fight would be for the good of the island’s natives, as well as the captives and indentured servants that had been forced here and that was something that his father would not allow.

As the sun crept up over the banana trees at the east of Prideux, Isaac was joined by Albert, his younger brother and Femi, the plantation’s foreman. Both were dressed and ready for a long day’s work bringing in the sugar cane harvest. Each stood on either side of him, one his brother in blood, the other his brother in spirit.

His father had cringed when Isaac threw Femi’s name into the hat for the foreman’s position. Isaac III was angry over losing so many slaves to the abolition act and hated the idea of giving the job to one of the only African workers who’d chosen to stay on. While most had fled, Femi and a select few had chosen to remain for lack of anywhere else to go as their parents and grandparents had been slaves and Martinique was all that they knew. They also stayed out of loyalty to Isaac and Albert. Since the old man had taken to his sickbed eight years before, the running of the family business was now in their hands.

Isaac was determined to have his way, though, and eventually earned his dear friend the position. Femi was a hard worker and taskmaster, but fair. He was also the only foreman Isaac knew the remaining African workers would trust. They had a long way to go to repair the damage done by slavery. While the enslavement had been none of his doing, Isaac felt guilt over it nonetheless. It was why he strived so hard to treat his workers fairly. The Africans as well as the native Caribs, Indian Tamils, and few Irish and Chinese indentured.

He glanced over at Albert, who was the very image of their mother with his strawberry blond hair and soft brown eyes. Isaac, to his everlasting chagrin, was made in his father’s image. His towering height, broad shoulders and head full of brown, wavy locks clubbed back into a queue made him almost identical to the man. Thankfully, the intriguing hazel eyes were his own, a trait passed down from a grandparent. Albert’s eyes twinkled with excitement as he watched the workers trailing in to the fields. Unlike Isaac, he loved Prideux Plantation and would be happy to live out his days planting and harvesting sugar cane.

“Try not to look too much like a man going to the executioner,” Albert said as he stretched his arms high over his head. “It makes a bad impression on the workers don’t you think?”

“Listen to your brother,” said Femi from his right side, gazing down at Isaac from an impossible height of almost seven feet. White teeth gleamed behind dark lips and fathomless eyes twinkled at him from beneath a prominent brow. Femi ran a hand over his shaved head and laughed. “I don’t want to spend all day looking at your sour face.”

“Mon Dieu, you’re both so irritating in the morning.”

The three men laughed together as they walked leisurely down the steps of the manor house and followed a pathway toward the fields. The harvesters were already hard at work, cutting down stalks of sugar cane that had already been fired up the day before.

“Work hard today, mon frère,” Femi said to Isaac with a hearty slap on the shoulder. “You must build an empire worthy of Mademoiselle Genevieve, eh?”

Isaac ignored Femi and joinied a group of harvesters in bundling stalks of sugar cane and loading them on to wagons for the cane mill.

Femi’s not-so-subtle reminder of Isaac’s unofficial engagement put him in a foul mood. Genevieve Broussard was the young, grasping daughter of Frances Broussard, the owner of the neighboring plantation. While Frances was a man of means, his plantation was half the size of Prideux, as was his income. Genevieve was the typical, spoiled island girl who wanted nothing more than to attach herself to a wealthy husband and host lavish parties in her spare time.

While Isaac had never done anything to encourage the union, he’d never done anything to discourage it. Marriage was not something he was avoiding, nor was it something he was seeking. When the time was right and heirs were needed, he’d settle down and Genevieve would do as well as any other woman.

In the meantime, Prideux Plantation and this year’s cane harvest were his top priorities. Insipid little matters like marriage could be set aside for later. Much later.

It was as if she’d heard them speaking of her that very morning. When Isaac, Albert and Femi returned from the field that evening, they found Genevieve Broussard waiting for them, along with her older sister Sabine. As Isaac paused on the bottom step, gazing up at the woman who may someday become his wife, he had to admit that she was lovely.

Somehow, she’d managed to keep her lily white skin its natural shade despite the island sun. The lightness of her complexion was further accentuated by flowing sable locks and brown doe eyes. Long, spiky lashes framed the deceptively innocent depths and her cheeks blushed slightly red as well as her narrow, pouting mouth. She sat primly on a cushioned wicker chair, dressed in a low-necked evening gown in a flattering shade of mauve with ribbons flowing from the shoulders. Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled back into a neat chignon with a cluster of curls falling at each side of her head. A pearl pendant rested just within the daring décolletage of her gown, provocatively drawing the eye to the exposed milky white skin below it.

Sabine sat beside her sister in matching chair, sipping a glass of bavarois, a whipped mixture of milk, rum, and sugar, silently. The elder Broussard sister, a mousier and less vibrant version of the younger, was quiet and less obvious in her muted pale blue gown and hairstyle much like Genevieve’s.

“Mon amour!” she cried as she stood from her wicker chair and rushed to the top of the porch steps. “We’ve been waiting for you for ages! Your mother said you’d be home in time for dinner.”

From the position of the sun, Isaac estimated it to be about six in the evening. He had just enough time to wash up and change before joining his family in the dining room.

“Well, here we are,” Isaac replied for lack of anything better to say. He was caught slightly off guard by Genevieve’s presence, no one had told him she was invited to dinner. Isaac was also acutely aware of her gaze on his naked, sweat-slick torso. He’d removed his shirt hours ago and now felt the need to pull it back on thanks to Genevieve’s unguarded perusal of his body. Her tongue twirled about her opened mouth as she studied him, her nostrils flaring at the primitive display of flesh.

“I am so looking forward to dinner with you tonight. I thought that afterwards you and I could spend some time together, mon amour.”

Isaac flinched at her calling him ‘mon amour’. She had taken to calling him that about a year ago and he was still not used to it. Nothing about Genevieve calling him her love felt right.

“I suppose we’d better go get cleaned up,” Albert said, breaking the tension between the two. “Maman will not be happy if we are late.”

“Yes, bien sûr, please do not let us hold you up. We are just enjoying some of your cook’s exquisite bavarois, are we not Sabine?”

Sabine nodded, but continued eyeing the three men silently, particularly Albert. Isaac noticed that there had been quite a few lingering glances exchanged between the two over the past few months. It was just his luck that Albert would take a liking to Sabine. If things kept going the way they were, he and Albert would grow old on Prideux Plantation, married to the Broussard sisters, drinking bavarois and harvesting sugar cane year after year. Isaac suppressed a shudder.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Femi said as he made to leave the group. He jammed a wide-brimmed hat onto his bald head and hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “First batch of cane goes through the mill tomorrow. Lots to do.”

Isaac did not miss Genevieve’s disgusted expression as she eyed his best friend. His fingers itched to bite into her arm and his tongue swelled from a need to sharply reprimand her for raising her hand to shoo him like a dog.

“Off you go then,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Femi merely smiled and turned to Albert and Isaac. He shook both their hands and left on the path leading to Prideux’s gates.

“Until tomorrow. Au revoir.”

Isaac brushed past Genevieve without a word and entered the house, his jaw working furiously as he contemplated removing his would-be fiancé from the premises. He found his mother coming down one of the spiraled staircases, fumbling with the clasp of an antique bracelet.

“Oh Isaac, do be a dear and help your Maman, s'il vous plaît.”

Albert rushed past them to the stairs as Isaac stepped forward to clasp the bracelet around his mother’s slender wrist. Hortense Prideux was a woman of grace and beauty, even in her old age. Her strawberry blonde hair was streaked with silver and elegantly styled. Her still trim figure was accentuated by an off-the shoulder evening gown in a deep shade of burgundy. After he’d clasped the gold bracelet around her wrist he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“And how are you today, Maman?”

“I’ll be better once you are wearing a shirt. S'il vous plaît, make yourself presentable for your fiancé.”

“She is not my fiancé.”

Hortense simply smiled and kissed her son’s forehead. “She will be.”

Isaac didn’t stick around to argue with his mother. When it came to the subject of Genevieve Broussard, his mother had marriage on the mind. She found Genevieve utterly charming and adored the girl as if she were her own. Isaac knew better than to speak ill of Genevieve in Hortense’s presence.

Once he made it to his bedroom, he doused himself with cold water and scrubbed quickly from head to toe with a bar of soap. Twenty minutes later he appeared in the sitting room and joined his family and guests dressed in black tailcoat and trousers, his white cravat tied to perfection, his damp hair clubbed back at the nape of his neck. As he took Genevieve’s arm and led her into the dining room, he tried to steel himself for the evening ahead. Getting through an entire meal with Genevieve would not be easy. Once they were married he was going to have to impregnate her immediately so that there could be children at the table to distract him from her endless chattering.

The thought left him feeling somber and morose for the remainder of the evening.

Mudiwa’s vision was swimming and the pain in her face was explosive, but she reminded herself of her training and pushed away the agony. King Ghezo’s Mino had endured pain like no other during their training. She had been to battle and felt worse pain than this.

Once she’d regained her equilibrium, Mudiwa frantically moved toward the double French doors leading out to a small balcony. As she stood at the railing, looking down, she took in the everyday hustle and bustle of St. Pierre’s streets that she’d been watching every day from her attic window. Beyond rows of townhouses was the market square, a place where she could blend in and lose herself quickly. Determined to make it, Mudiwa swiftly grabbed the sheets from the bed and tied them together to make a rope. She tied one end to the  iron rail and tossed it over just as a knock sounded at the door.

Geoffrey’s concerned voice was on the other end and Mudiwa faintly heard the sliding of a key into the lock. As almost an afterthought, Mudiwa reached for the white cotton shirt slung over a high-backed chair and put it on just before running out to the balcony and vaulting over the rail’s edge.

She heard voices and shouts from the room upstairs, but didn’t stay to hear if Blake was dead or not. At this point, she was fortunate to have escaped with her life.

Mudiwa stumbled down the street in the direction of the market square, pressing her hand to the back of her head where blood flowed freely. She steered cleared of speeding wagons, carts and carriages as she moved, hoping to maintain consciousness until she could hide.

Her vision grew hazier by the second as she made her way through the cobbled streets, but Mudiwa walked on. Drawn to St. Pierre’s lively center by the smells of cooking fish, curried meats and spices, she drifted closer and closer to the heart of the island city. A few times, she almost fell into one of the two rivers winding through the city, where Carib children paddled canoes filled with people and tradable goods. She stopped for a moment and splashed cold water onto her face before swallowing a few mouthfuls. Remembering her head wound, she continued on, searching the faces of the people she passed as she did.

Many eyed her with disdain, mostly the French and lighter skinned natives Mudiwa could only assume were of mixed blood. A few of the Africans and Tamils offered her pitying glances, but not one soul moved forward to help her.

Losing blood rapidly and awash with despair, Mudiwa collapsed to the street, her vision growing dark around the edges as she watched the bare and booted feet of passersby. Was this how her life would end? Mudiwa Akua, proud clan chieftain’s daughter and one of King Ghezo’s Mino, dead on the street of some far flung island? Perhaps it was what she deserved for leading her precious Asita and lovely Akoko to their doom. Perhaps this was justification for her crimes. If so, she would accept it.

As the light faded from her eyes, a shadow fell over her, giving blessed relief from the scorching sun. Through her fading vision, she made out the strong features of an African man as he stood over her, studying her with pity flashing in his brown eyes.

She wanted to tell him that it was too late, that she was already dead inside without her Asita and now she was dying outside. Mudiwa wanted to tell him to leave her and let her die, and perhaps everyone she knew would be better off. She could say nothing as the looming stranger’s arms came around her and lifted her from the ground just as her world faded to black.

~Chapter 6~

Isaac paused in the middle of carrying a bundle of harvested sugar cane stalks into the mill as Femi’s towering figured appeared on the path from Prideux’s front gates. He frowned and dropped his load back onto the wagon as he noticed the crumpled form of a woman in Femi’s arms. At first, his heart dropped into his stomach as he thought Femi’s wife hurt or killed. The quiet woman always had a ready smile for Isaac, as well as fresh batches of fried plantains whenever he came to their small cottage to visit.

As Femi neared Isaac was relieved to see that his wife was not dead or injured, but was trotting along at his heels with worry creasing her brow. Isaac receded down the path toward the two and recoiled when he saw the state of the woman in Femi’s arms.

“I found her in the market square,” Femi explained. “I don’t know what happened to her but she’s in bad shape.”

Isaac frowned down at the swelling and bruising rapidly spreading across smooth, dark skin and the blood staining black hair. His stomach turned as he wondered what man had put his fists to this woman. It was obvious that she’d been badly beaten and may even be seriously injured.

“We will see to her,” Femi said. “No need to worry.”

Femi turned with his burden toward the property that Isaac had given him when making him plantation foreman. Isaac stepped forward and stopped him with a hand on Femi’s shoulder.

“Wait,” he said. “Give her to me. You go back into town and find a doctor, any doctor that will make the journey back up the mountain will do.”

Femi nodded before turning to his wife. He grasped her shoulders and kissed her forehead lovingly. “You will stay and help Isaac.”

She nodded obediently. “Yes, my husband.”

Femi took off at a run down the path toward the stable and Isaac turned to carry the woman toward the house.

“What’s going on?” Albert asked as he saw them passing the mill.

“Femi found this woman in the market square in St. Pierre. He’s gone to find a physician. When they return have them sent to the rose room.”

Albert’s eyebrows shot up. “Maman’s favorite guest room? Are you certain that is wise?”

Isaac shrugged and continued on. “This woman could die, Albert. Do you really think Maman is going to care where I put her?”

He didn’t stay to hear Albert’s answer. Of course, their mother would not be happy with him soiling the rose-printed sheets of her favorite guest room with the blood of an African, especially one that she did not know. While Hortense was more tolerant of others than her father, she still held many preconceived notions about the colored residents of the island. He supposed it was the best she could do, considering her upbringing on an island that thrived on slave labor.

Deciding to take the back stairs in order to avoid her, Isaac found two house servants on the way to the guest wing and asked them to accompany him. Once inside of the rose room—so named for its decorative theme—Isaac had Femi’s wife peel back the duvet. He laid the woman down on the clean sheets and stood back to assess her.

She was wearing a jupe skirt made of madras cloth, a man’s cotton shirt and no shoes. Her face was a mass of purpling bruises with swelling around her right eye and left cheek near the jaw. Her breathing was harsh and her eyes moved around wildly behind her eyelids. Whatever had happened to this woman, she had not been able to escape it in her state of unconsciousness. She moaned in pain as she tried to move her head and Isaac remembered the blood in her hair. He hadn’t the slightest notion what to do.

Luckily, Femi’s wife stood forward. The petite African woman patted him on the shoulder and smiled. She’d arrived on Martinique ten years ago, a slave bought by his father. She came to Prideux battered and scarred and still carried the evidence of her turmoil on her face; a nearly six inch scar that ran across her cheek from the corner of her mouth. Because of this, he knew that she was just right for the job.

“Let me,” she offered.

Isaac returned her smile gratefully. He turned to the other two servants. “Do whatever she asks.”

Isaac allowed the women to shoo him from the room so that they could undress and bathe the hurt woman’s body before the doctor arrived. He paced the hallway, intending to guard the room from his mother and await the doctor’s arrival. Isaac knew he didn’t have to worry that today’s work would fall behind schedule. While his father had placed Prideux on his shoulders, Albert was more than capable and happy to oversee things in him and Femi’s absence.

The physician finally arrived with Femi and Hortense hot on his heels. Isaac stifled a groan at the sight of his mother. Femi shot him a look that said he’d tried to get rid of her, but Isaac couldn’t fault the man. Hortense rarely let things get past her, especially in her own house.

“Isaac, what is going on? Why have you fetched Doctor Girard?”

Isaac intercepted his mother at the door and allowed the doctor and Femi to enter the room. He grasped Hortense by the shoulders and gave her his most placating smile.

“First things first,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “How is the most ravishing Maman on the island? Bon, je l'espère.”

Hortense sighed and patted her son’s hand. “Bon. At least as well as I can be with your father in such a disagreeable mood. Je vous jure, the longer he is ill, the more unpredictable his mood becomes.”

“Maman, he has always been ill-tempered, you just didn’t notice it until he was ill.”

Hortense shrugged and her gaze flickered back to the closed door behind him. “Yes well, it matters not. I plied him with laudanum and he is sleeping soundly. Now, are you going to answer my question about why Doctor Girard is here and who behind that door needs medical attention? And in my rose room no less.”

“Femi found a woman today in St. Pierre that had been badly beaten. She was unconscious and no one would help her so he brought her here. He was going to take her to his home but I told him to have her settled in the rose room. Her injuries look serious and I thought it best to call for the doctor.”

Hortense, who was fond of Femi, nodded and smiled. “Of course. Femi did the right thing and so did you. Perhaps I should have some broth and water sent up for her?”

Isaac smiled and squeezed his mother tightly. Despite some of her prejudices, she had a good heart and of his two parents, she had shown him the most love and care.

“Assurément. That would be splendid, Maman.”

Hortense nodded and turned to leave. She paused at the top of the stairs and turned back to Isaac.

“Oh, before I forget. Your fiancé is coming for a visit this afternoon. It would be nice if you were to attend her.”

Isaac bowed his head in supplication but bit back a string of profanities at the thought of attending Genevieve. “Yes, Maman.”

Once alone again, he pushed his mother and Genevieve from his mind and resumed his vigil in front of the door.

Half an hour later, Doctor Girard motioned for him to come inside. Femi exited the room, holding his wife’s hand.

“Will come back in morning,” she said as they turned to leave.

Isaac nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

As they moved toward the stairs, Isaac joined Doctor Girard at the foot of the still unconscious woman’s bed.

“She has been beaten very badly,” the doctor said once they were alone. “Her face is badly bruised but I found no broken bones there. Her shoulder had come from its socket, but with the help of your foreman I was able to get it back in place. There is also bruising along the ribs and a wound at the back of her head. Your servants had to cut away most of her hair to get to the wound, but we bandaged it and the dressings must be changed twice daily. I’ve left laudanum for pain as well as a balm for sore muscles. You’ll want to use that as there is bruising everywhere and she’s sure to be in a lot of pain. The head wound might keep her unconscious for a while, but keep trying to spoon broth or water down her throat. I believe she’ll make a full recovery if properly cared for.”

Isaac winced and stared over at the lonely figure on the bed. This woman was lucky to be alive and he had to admire the spirit of a person who could survive such a severe beating.

“We’ll care for her Doctor,” Isaac said as he ushered the doctor from the room. “See my Maman before you leave and she will ensure that you receive payment.”

Doctor Girard nodded and turned to take his leave. Isaac stood in the doorway of the white, red, and pink rose room and watched the sleeping woman with curiosity. Someone had dressed her in a plain, white shift and pulled the covers up over her chest. The bruises on her skin stood out starkly against the pristine fabric. He re-entered the room and pulled the blanket up to her chin. He stood for a moment longer, gazing down at her bruised face.

“Continuer à se battre, d'un fort,” he murmured before striding from the room.

Keep fighting, strong one.

~Chapter 7~

Light from the fire cast an orange glow on those surrounding it. The moon was high and the thrill of the celebration rippled through the people gathered there. It was the time of customs, a season for revelry and offerings to the vodun.

The Gods tributes had been made earlier that day and now was the time for feasting, singing and dancing. This day marked the beginning of the annual military campaign, the time between November and April, the dry season, in which the king of Dahomey preferred to make war.

The pounding of drums vibrated across the dusty ground and was accompanied by the pounding of feet. The flute whistled and wooden paddles struck the sides of calabashes made into rattles using cowries and nets. Iron bells tinkled on the bodies of the dancers, who entertained King Ghezo and his many wives, as well as those gathered to celebrate the customs.

Mudiwa watched the musket dancers from where she sat among the other Mino. Her view of the festivities was only partially blocked by raffia palms. They were used to secure the boundary between the royal wives and the men present. Only King Ghezo and his chief eunuch, were allowed within the boundary. Others may be invited inside, those who had gained favor with the king recently, but no one else.

Mudiwa watched the musket dancers stomp and roar as they twirled their muskets above their heads, throwing them up and catching them in mighty hands before pirouetting around on one foot and going into another series of twist and turns. The firelight gleamed from their glistening, dark chests and the sounds of their singing and battle cries could be heard for miles.

Ghezo is the king of kings!

While Ghezo lives we have nothing to fear

Under him we are lions, not men

Their boastful song rang out over those gathered, a tribute to their arrogant king. Ghezo sat upon his chair, pipe in hand and smoke curling around him in a bluish gray haze. While many of the first tier wives, who’d experienced his lustful attentions, raved over his sexual magnetism and good looks, Mudiwa had eyes for only one man.

She watched him through the raffia palms, her blood as hot as the desert sun as their eyes connected. Asita sat with his family, eating from a hollowed calabash with his fingers. He was beautiful with the moon reflecting from his smooth, brown skin and shimmering in the dark pools of his gaze. They were hooded and sensual, locked on her in a heated gaze. Mudiwa sat a bit straighter and tried not to stare at him for too long lest she draw someone’s notice. Secretly, she was proud to have him watching her so closely.

She’d chosen her clothing carefully and was wearing her finest silk tunic. The crimson fabric sat beautifully against her cocoa colored skin. Akoko had taken great care when braiding and coiling her hair on top of her head in an intricate pattern. The pagne wrapper she was wearing as a skirt was one Asita had weaved himself, a colorful pattern of red, deep blue and royal purple that he’d crafted with care and love especially for her. He’d given it to her as a gift, before she was one of the Mino, a wife of the king.

As the warriors finished their musket dance, the music lulled just long enough for Ghezo to call for the knife dancers. Mudiwa stood, along with a handful of others. They would be allowed from behind the raffia palms for this purpose. Mudiwa accepted her daggers from Akoko and moved to stand at the center of the circle of warrior wives. As the highest ranking warrior among them, she would lead the song and steps.

The drums called to her and the flute seduced her with its hypnotic notes. Despite her misery at the palace, learning the art of knife dancing had been a real pleasure. Mudiwa had always taken joy in dancing, and reveled in choreography that allowed her to flaunt both her grace and her strength.

Their bodies moved as one in a magnificent display of both femininity and power. The sides of their pagnes parted to reveal strong, supple thighs and calves. The moonlight cast its beams upon gleaming dark skin and bare muscled arms. As she spun and swung her knives in the complex, controlled arcs that Baako had taught her, she felt the eyes of her love upon her.

He watched her like a hawk, following the winding motions of her waist and hips and the stomping of her feet. As she turned, her eyes connected with his and lingered, blazing with a secret yearning that only he could see. She danced for him. She sang for him. While her mouth sang, “Ghezo is the king of kings!” her heart cried, “Asita is the king of my heart”…

The sound of drumbeats, flutes and rattles faded into a low hum in the distance as Mudiwa moved quickly on tiptoe through the trees. The light from many campfires glowed orange in the distance as she glanced over her shoulder to ensure that she was not followed. A gasp tore from her throat as she came up against a man’s strong body.

“You should not have come, beloved.”

Mudiwa sighed and melted into her lover’s embrace.

“You should not have asked me to, my sun.”

Asita’s face split into the smile she so loved. He reached up to tenderly cup her face in his hands. “I would brave every one of Ghezo’s warriors for just a taste of your lips, my beloved. I would climb through thorns and risk the mighty alligator’s teeth for just one night to lay my head upon your breast.”

With a barely contained moan of passion, Mudiwa fell into his arms and offered her lips. He took them, softly and sweetly at first and then with growing passion. Their breaths quickened together on the night air and the heat of their bodies meshed together quickly rivaled that of the balmy night.

“My love, I must have you now,” she cried, gripping the lapels of his grand boubou robe. “It has been too long since I last felt your touch and I burn for you, my sun.”

“I would love nothing more, but we have risked much just for one kiss. I cannot bear to see you killed or sold because of my love.”

Mudiwa buried her face against his chest and fought back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“Why must it be this way Asita? Why has Nana Bukulu cursed us to this fate?”

Asita grasped her wrists firmly and shook her gently. “Do not talk that way, my beloved. We are not cursed by the vodun. Your father and his decisions curse us but I vow to you as I have before, I will find a way to free you and a way for us to escape together and be free of this.”

“Yes,” she whispered, the tears falling freely now. “Yes Asita. That is what I wish.”

“Then you must trust me to see it done. Remain vigilant and patient. Our time will come.”

He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted it until their gazes met. “I shall love you until this life ends and the next begins.”

“And I will love you beyond that,” she replied.

She stepped from the circle of his arms and lifted her hands to the knot resting at her hip. She undid the loop, letting the pagne fall to the ground, leaving her clad in only the tunic that just barely came down over her hips. Asita’s eyes widened as she gripped the bottom of the tunic and pulled it over her head, her bold gaze never leaving his.

“Please Asita,” she pleaded as she knelt on the pagne and lifted her arms to him. “Love me.”

He was on her in an instant, shedding his outer robe and undershirt swiftly. His arms came around her and his eyes glazed over with desire as he lowered his head toward her.

“Oh my beloved, you are temptation itself.”

Mudiwa swam through a haze of pain and laudanum, her mind clouded with dreams that both soothed and tormented. In her mind always were the eyes of Asita, warm and full of desire for her. She clung to them as she fought for consciousness, but remained just under the surface, held down by the pain and drugs. Somewhere deep within her mind she registered a far off voice, one masculine and unfamiliar calling out to her…Keep fighting, strong one...

****

Isaac turned onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling above him. The day had been long and he’d lost precious cane harvesting hours tending to his would-be fiancé. Genevieve had, as promised, decided to come for a visit.

The rain pounding against the manor and the wind howling through its shutters had turned an afternoon visit into an overnight stay. As the unexpected weather had made it too dangerous for Genevieve and Sabine’s wagon to make the journey along the mountain road, Hortense had offered them rooms for the night.

Isaac had to sit through hours of Genevieve’s mindless chatter about the latest fashions just arrived to the island from France, as well as her grievances on the Tamil servants working in her father’s house. He’d also had to suffer his father’s company. On the rare occasion that Isaac III left his bed to join his family for a meal, it was always a stoic and quiet affair. His mother also tended to order dinner prepared in the French style to suit his father’s taste. As Isaac preferred the fragrant spices and exotic flavors of the island, he found that meals swimming in rich sauces turned his stomach.

Glad for a few moments of peace and quiet, Isaac entwined his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of the rain tapping his window to calm him. He faintly registered the sound of his door opening and shot upright on the bed. The figure of a woman stood in the doorway, her pale skin illuminated by moonlight. She sauntered toward the bed, her fingers untying the knot at her waist. Isaac felt anger, hot and swift rising up in him as Genevieve dropped the plum silk dressing gown she’d borrowed from his mother to the floor, revealing the naked body underneath.

Genevieve flipped her dark hair over her shoulders and thrust her breasts forward proudly as she moved toward the bed, exaggerating the sway of her hips with every step.

“Trouble sleeping, mon amour? Perhaps I can put you to bed,” she purred as she crawled onto the bed.

Isaac held onto the sheet as he sat up against the headboard, reluctant to leave his place on the bed as he was nude beneath the covers.

“Genevieve, what are you doing?”

She inched toward him on her hands and knees before lowering herself onto him, brazenly brushing her breasts against him. Despite his annoyance, his body began to respond, sending a rush to blood and heat to his groin. He clenched his jaw and grasped her roughly by the wrists. Yes, her body was curvaceous and desirable and yes, he could very easily have turned her to her back and buried himself between her soft hips. However, Isaac was not so foolish as to believe her entering his bedroom in the middle of the night was some sort of spontaneous act by a smitten girl. More believably, it was a calculated and planned act of a woman who would go to any lengths to get what she wanted, including seducing a man straight to the altar.

Genevieve was not put off by his roughness. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his rough handling. His grip tightened on her wrists, but she continued to wiggle and gyrate her body against his, pressing up against his hardness and reveling in his primitive response.

“I know that you want me Isaac. Look at how you rise so readily to the occasion.”

She flexed her hips against his arousal to prove her point and arched a dark eyebrow.

“Take what you want from me, Isaac. I know that you have longed to have me since the first summer you saw me at my father’s house.”

Isaac chuckled dryly and pulled Genevieve forward until she was close enough to see the dangerous gleam in his eye.

“You presume much, Genevieve. I am not a man to be ruled by his body or lead about by the cock by some spoiled, grasping petite putain!”

“Putain?” she spit the word as if insulted by it, but then her mouth twisted into a coy smile. “If a whore is what you want mon amour, then I perhaps I should not have played the lady for so long. I can be whatever you want me to be, mon chère.”

Heedless of his nudity, he grasped her about the waist and tumbled her from his body onto the mattress, swiftly leaping to his feet. Rage coiled low in his gut as he reached for a pair of breeches and pulled them on swiftly.

“How many Genevieve?”

“Excusez-moi?”

He yanked the pants on and turned to her, a feral snarl curling his lip. “You heard me! How many beds have you slipped into? How many men have you played the whore for before me, eh?”

Genevieve snatched her robe from the floor and pulled it around her body, snatching the belt closed with a jerk.

“Maudit sois-tu, Isaac! You are to be my husband!”

Isaac stormed toward her and gripped her shoulders tightly, shaking her so ferociously that her teeth rattled. “I have not yet asked for your hand and don’t think to force me to it with your clumsy seduction. If or when I decide to take you as my wife, by God you had better come to me untouched or I will not be held responsible for my actions. I will not make some other man’s leavings the mistress of Prideux. Ne comprenez-vous?”

Her lower lip trembled uncontrollably, but defiance flashed in her eyes just before she nodded slowly. “Oui Isaac,” she said softly. “I understand.”

“Bon. Now, back to your room before I am forced to really lose my temper with you.”

With another nod, Genevieve turned and left the room swiftly, closing the door quietly behind her.

Alone once again, Isaac sunk down onto the bed and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. He’d always known that Genevieve was a shrewd and grasping little thing, but he never thought she would stoop so low as to try to trick him into compromising her. He would have to make sure he was on his guard around her at all times. The last thing he needed was to be forced into marriage because he got caught between Genevieve’s legs.

He stood and moved to the armoire to retrieve a shirt, now too wound up to sleep. Wondering at the condition of his injured houseguest, he left his room and navigated the long corridor toward the guest wing of the house. While the bandage on her head had already been changed for the night and she’d swallowed down a few spoonfuls of broth, Isaac decided that she needed checking on again.

When he entered the room, she was where he’d last seen her, sleeping fitfully. He pulled up a chair beside her bed and steeled himself for the long night ahead, keeping vigil over the injured stranger.

~Chapter 8~

When Isaac wasn’t in the fields tending to the cane harvest, he was in the rose room, sitting at Mudiwa’s bedside.

Mudiwa.

He’d learned her name a few days after her arrival, when Femi and his wife had come back to check in on her. She slept peacefully now, though sometimes mumbled incoherently in her sleep. Mudiwa now laid beneath the rose-printed duvet, her face still a mottle shade of purple and green but the swelling had now gone down to reveal strong, beautiful features. When the couple had walked into the room, Akoko collapsed onto the bed in a fit of tears, screaming the girl’s name and crying out in her native tongue.

Femi, whose brow was wrinkled in confusion and concern for his wife, cast Isaac a glance that said the man knew nothing about what was happening. Although Akoko had come from Africa and Femi was born on the island, the two were born of the same African tribe and spoke the same language. After Femi went to his wife’s side and took the sobbing woman in his arms, the two embraced and held a fluent conversation in Fongbe, with Isaac looking on silently.

Akoko explained her tears to Femi before returning to the bedside of someone she seemed to know. She took the unconscious woman’s hand and turned her back to them, sobbing quietly. Femi took Isaac’s shoulder and guided him from the room.

“What the devil is going on?” Isaac questioned once they were out in the hallway. “Does your wife know that woman?”

Femi nodded, his mouth a grim line as he peered back into the bedroom at his wife’s trembling form.

“She says she knows the woman from Dahomey, the land she is from. Akoko claims the woman was once her mistress.”

Femi shrugged at Isaac’s raised eyebrows. “You did know that Africans also enslaved each other?”

Isaac shook his head, his hands on his hips as he glanced back and forth between Femi and the two women in the room. The way Akoko was crying, you’d have thought the women were long lost sisters.

“Why such strong emotion over someone who once owned her? Were they close?”

“All she would say is that Mudiwa was a wife of the king and that she was given to her as a gift. They last saw each other twelve years ago, right before Akoko was sold and brought to the island. She thought Mudiwa dead.”

Isaac glanced back into the room, his eyes roaming over the sleeping figure beneath the covers. “Mudiwa?”

Femi nodded. “That is what Akoko called her.”

“Do you think that she will be all right?”

“I will see to it, give her time to accept what she is seeing and then take her home. Dayo will prepare dinner and I will allow Akoko to rest.”

Isaac smiled. “Dayo, cooking dinner? It seems only yesterday she was a little girl pulling at my pant leg and asking for peppermint sticks.”

Femi laughed, a deep twinkling forming in his eyes as it always did when he spoke of his children. His daughter, Dayo, was the oldest of five. Femi had once told him that her name meant ‘joy arrives’, and Isaac thought it fitting considering how long the couple had tried to conceive. Once Dayo was born, children followed every year after for four years. Dayo was now ten years old and becoming a beauty. Isaac knew that Femi was fiercely proud to have such a beautiful daughter. He wondered what his children with Genevieve would look like and how they would behave. He frowned at the thought of them taking on their mother’s garish personality.

Femi noticed his frown and grasped his shoulder. “Are you all right, mon frère?”

“Of course Femi, just woolgathering. Perhaps you should take Akoko home now. I will sit with Mudiwa and check on her throughout the night. The doctor should be coming in the morning to assess her again.”

“She is looking much better. The swelling is almost completely gone from her face and Akoko says her breathing is better now that her ribs are healing.”

“I am anxious for her to awaken so that we can know what happened to her. I’d especially like to know who was responsible.”

“You and I both,” Femi replied. “What sort of depraved monster would beat a woman within an inch of her life?”

****

Pain hummed behind his eyes in swirls of bright light and mingling colors. Even with his eyes closed, the constant pounding in his head was persistent and never ceasing. His entire face felt as if it had endured pounding with a mallet and every muscle in his body screamed out with stiffness.

Dorian Blake opened his eyes slowly, allowing his vision to clear before he tried to move his head. The sunlight streaming through the open balcony doors was blinding and the smell of herbs, tea and laudanum filled his nostrils. He could hear the distant murmur of voices and distinctly recognized Geoffrey’s cultured tones and François’ Creole twisted French.

“Geoff!” he barked, wincing from the jolt of pain that stabbed at him. He closed his eyes and bit back nausea as footsteps indicated Geoffrey’s approach.

“Monsieur?”

Dorian opened his eyes again and stabbed Geoffrey with his dark glare. “How long have I been out?”

Geoff swallowed noisily and jerked at his shirt collar. “Over one week. The doctor recommended drugging you with laudanum, as you were near delirious from agony when he arrived. We’ve kept you as comfortable as we could.”

“And the little black bitch?”

Geoffrey frowned. “Gone. François attempted to ask around about her, but of course, the people on this island see one African, they see them all. No one would have noticed or paid attention to her.”

“God damn it!”

Pain stabbed at him again as he struggled to sit up. He grimaced but threw the blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

“Monsieur, ce n'est pas une bonne idée,” François’ voice intruded as he stepped forward to take Dorian’s arm. That is not a good idea.

“You should go slowly,” Geoff cautioned from the other side of the bed. “You took quite a beating.”

“Nothing the likes of which I will inflict upon her!” Dorian spat as he shrugged off François’ hold on his arm. He stumbled over to the sideboard and pulled the stopper out of a crystal decanter full of clear, white rum. He raised it to his lips and drank greedily, reveling in the spreading fire through his veins.

Dorian Blake had many faces. While lurking amongst the royal court in Barony and Cardenas, he was charming and personable. The royal title was passed down from his mother’s side and while he was merely a planter’s son on Martinique, he was a grand lord in Barony.

When trading in foreign ports, he was smart, savvy and cunning, able to make a large profit from even the most meager cargo.

On the island he was both feared and respected for his shrewdness and what many perceived to be cruelty.

These women, these so-called lady knights were proving a massive blow to his ego. First, the woman of his deepest dreams betrayed him for a vagrant kidnapper and now, her companion had bested him in a situation in which Dorian had planned to come out the victor. Just the thought of finding her, of wrapping his hands around her slender neck and squeezing the life out of her, filled him with a surge of white hot anger and lust. It throbbed through him uncontrollably as he finished the decanter and tossed it to the floor with a shudder.

“Where is Tanya?” he asked, finally turning his bloodshot gaze back to François.

François frowned and averted his eyes. “In her room,” he said. “She has refused to come out ever since seeing you carrying the African to your bed. She is not pleased.”

“I don’t fucking care if she is pleased. I want her in here. Now.”

François raised an eyebrow and smirked, a look that told Dorian he knew well what would happen to Tanya if she refused and while the girl was strong-willed, she was not completely stupid. Dorian would use his charm to win her back over for now. He needed something to distract him and assuage his lust for the time being.

“Monsieur, there is just one more thing,” Geoffrey said tentatively, stepping forward once again. “It’s about the cargo. The…ahem…the other cargo.”

Dorian’s ears perked up and he swiveled back toward Geoff. In all the commotion, he’d completely forgotten about the auction.

“Eh bien? How did it go?”

Geoff jerked at his collar again and cleared his throat twice. “Well, it went exceedingly well. We turned a nice profit for the women.”

“Excellent,” Dorian sighed as he removed his nightshirt and pulled on a clean pair of trousers.

Geoff cleared his throat again. “Yes, but now the customers are asking for their money back.”

“Why?” Dorian snorted as he jerked the pants up over his hips. “The women are clean, I had them inspected.”

“It is not that.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Well then, tell them the sale is nonrefundable. If the girls aren’t amenable to their new jobs the brothel owners know how to handle it.”

“That is not the problem either.”

“Then what the hell is it Geoffrey? You’re driving me insane with all of your blathering.”

“Monsieur, we have a very big problem.”

****

“Julian, we have a very big problem.”

Julian Vincent gazed up at his wife as she entered the room, flanked by Hanako and Nell. He and Simon had just finished renting yet another room in which to stash the rescued women. Two weeks on the island and they’d rented out almost the entire second level of an inn in St. Pierre. Fortunately, King Serge and King Damien had financed the expedition, otherwise they would have never been able to afford feeding and sheltering the women while on the island.

His spirits had been high this morning, when Ava announced that they had found the last brothel. They’d raided over seven brothels in St. Pierre alone—things were easier than they’d expected as none of the women had been sold outside of the city—and today, Ava, Hanako and Nell had been fully prepared to raid the eighth and final one and find Mudiwa.

Ava’s expression said it all and Julian shot to his feet and rushed forward to envelop her in his arms. While his wife was most definitely the strongest woman he’d ever known, she was not shy about letting him see her softer side. Right then, her softer side needed the comfort of her husband.

“No luck then?”

He met Nell’s gaze over Ava’s shoulder and she shook her head.

“We found the last fifteen women,” Nell said, “but Mudiwa was not among them.”

“Any sign of Blake?” asked Simon from the corner of the room where he’d been cleaning his revolver.

“None,” Hanako said quietly, her gaze thoughtful as she stared out the window. “We know that he inhabits a townhouse in the city as well as a plantation on the mountain, but we are not sure of an exact location. He could be at either residence.”

Ava pushed away from Julian after a quick kiss, her shoulders straightening once more as she fell back into captainship.

“We need to accept the possibility that Blake still has her. We thought he might have grown tired of waiting for me and sold her with the others, but he may still be holding out hope that I’ll come to him.”

Julian’s jaw tightened to near snapping and his hand clenched around Ava’s arm tightly.

“That is not an option.”

Ava speared him with her silver gaze and frowned. “If it’s the only way, then...”

“There is always another way,” he interjected.

“Like what?” she challenged, her chin reaching that impossible angle of superiority that Julian found so very arousing.

Hanako’s soft voice intruded as she came away from the window. “Send me in.”

~Chapter 9~

A crashing sound resounded through the room as the door flew open. Mudiwa gasped as the sound of shouting filled her ears. A lump welled up swiftly and painfully in her throat as Asita came awake swiftly beside her. She clung to his arm as Osumare, King Ghezo’s chief eunuch marched into the room, followed by five armed eunuchs.

Asita rose from the bed, his naked body framed by sunlight as he lifted his fists to face the invading eunuchs.

“Asita, no!” Mudiwa cried as she leaped from the bed and reached for her discarded caftan. She pulled it over her head just as two of the eunuch’s moved forward to capture Asita.

Osumare’s dark eyes were accusing, dark slits as he assessed both Asita and Mudiwa, caught in a lover’s embrace. Akoko stood sobbing in the doorway, her body trembling from the force of her sadness.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed as one of the eunuchs grabbed her by the arms, forcing her to her knees. “I’m sorry!”

Mudiwa stood silently, her chin high as she faced King Ghezo’s most loyal servant. The chief eunuch had been suspicious of her from the start, watching her with a keen eye. He’d sensed willfulness and pride in her and Mudiwa knew that he’d been waiting silently in the wings to make his move upon them. He had probably known about her secret trysts with Asita the entire time.

“Pray to the vodun for mercy,” Osumare said as he motioned for the remaining two eunuchs to step forward. “Though, you are not likely to receive any from our great king, whom you have betrayed by giving your body to another.”

Asita still fought the restraining arms of those who held him captive. He grunted and groaned as he strained against their hold, his eyes wild as they connected with Mudiwa’s. The second the eunuchs’ hands were on her, Asita grew wilder, his cries echoing from the walls of her small two-room apartment.

“No!” he cried, kicking and flailing as the eunuchs fought to keep him under control. “Release her!” he cried. “Take me but let her go, she has done nothing but succumb to my will. She is a weak woman and did not know what she was doing!”

Mudiwa lowered her eyes and fought back tears as Asita’s words cut her to the core. She knew that they were necessary, his way of trying to make excuses for her behavior. Though women fought alongside men in Dahomey, they were still viewed as inferior creatures to be controlled by men.

Osumare was not convinced. “Subdue him,” he commanded.

A fist connected with Asita’s jaw and he went unconscious, hanging limp from the eunuchs’ arms. Osumare turned back to her with a smile and motioned for them to take Asita away.

“You and I know better than that,” he said. “The moment I saw you standing at the gates leading into our great king’s palace, I knew you were trouble; the willful daughter of a clan chieftain who does not know her place. King Ghezo thought to break you and make you more obedient through the rigid Mino and gbeto training, but I knew better. Now, he will know better as well.”

Mudiwa did not fight as the eunuchs dragged her away from her quarters. She faintly heard and felt a rushing of air just before a fist connected with her cheek.

Her vision faded.

Mudiwa awoke with a start, her eyes flying open as she was snatched away from the remnants of her familiar nightmare. Was she dead? The last thing she remembered was falling to the cobblestones in St. Pierre, bloodied and half-dead from Dorian’s beating. Her senses seemed numbed at first, slowly coming to life as she regained coherence. With each passing second, she began to realize that she was not dead.

Mudiwa felt a mattress beneath her, the softest she’d ever slept on and knew she was not back in the attic room at Blake’s townhouse. All right then, she must have been rescued. As her vision sharpened into focus and sensation began to creep back over her body, she mentally assessed her injuries while staring at a sheer, white canopy over her head.

There was a dull ache in her head, but it was nothing like the sharp pain she’d experienced when Blake slammed her against his solid paneled wall. The pain in her shoulder was less severe as well and her breathing was not as labored as it had been at first. While she was nowhere near her best, Mudiwa felt better than she had in weeks. She decided that whoever had found and taken such good care of her deserved her thanks.

“Oh, you’ve awakened.”

Mudiwa turned her head side to side, searching for the source of the voice that had interrupted her thoughts. She lifted her head slightly to find a light-brown skinned woman staring at her. By the woman’s features and skin color, Mudiwa recognized her as a Tamil and instantly thought of Amiliaya. She hoped that the quiet servant was alright. After Mudiwa figured out where she was, she would formulate a plan to go back and help Amiliaya to escape. No one deserved the wrath of Dorian Blake.

The servant dressed in garb similar to the native women of the island stepped forward with a smile.

“English?” she asked once she’d reached the side of the bed.

Mudiwa nodded, still glancing around to get her bearings. “Yes,” she answered as she inspected her surroundings.

She was in a room decorated in shades of white, pink and red. There were roses everywhere,printed on the duvet and on the rugs on the floor, as well as the wallpaper plastered to the wall above solid oak paneling. The windows were thrown open and the fresh, salty morning air was rustling the curtains. It was a beautiful room, undoubtedly located in one of the many plantations on Mt. Pelee if the size and richness of this room was any indication. Just to appease her curiosity Mudiwa glanced back at the Tamil.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“Prideux Plantation,” the girl answered. “You’ve been here for two weeks now. Some of the other servants didn’t think you would live, but Monsieur Prideux was certain that you would. I should go get him now.”

Before Mudiwa could respond to this new information, the young Tamil was gone on swift feet. Deciding that she could do no more until someone returned, she continued scanning the room. A few feet away, on a small table by the window, she spotted a pitcher. Hoping for water, she flung the covers back and left the bed. She ran her hands idly over the light linen shift she was wearing. It was edged in lace and obviously of good quality, borrowed from the lady of the manor no doubt.

As she crossed to the table, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused, her eyes widening at what she found there. Her hands went up to her face, battered and bruised by Dorian’s pounding fists. While her eye, which had been swollen shut, was now open and its usual shade of brown, her jaw and forehead were tinted a nauseating shade of green mixed with purple. Her collarbones stood out against her skin, hinting at a body that had taken in nothing but broth and water over the last two weeks.

Her hands traveled up to her head, where a mere two inches of hair covered her scalp in a messy array of coiled black curls. A sob escaped her lips as she ran her hands over her shorn hair and battered face and she crumbled to the floor, tears stinging her eyes.

It seemed a foolish thing to cry over, her missing hair, but it only added to the tumultuous brew of emotion welling up inside of her. The Mino had been trained to put aside their softer emotions, taught to ignore womanly instincts and embrace masculine ones. Many songs sung by the Mino boasted of women becoming like men.

It had all been too much and after years of holding it all in, the Dahomean warrior in her crumbled and the scarred woman emerged. Mudiwa buried her face in her hands and sobbed, rocking back and forth as she mourned the things she’d lost. Asita, gone forever. Akoko, lost for all eternity. Her sisters from Barony, searching for her fruitlessly and Queen Isabelle undoubtedly out of her mind with worry.

The door swung open and the frame of a tall man filled the doorway. Mudiwa lifted her watery eyes to his and her lungs expanded swiftly before stopping to hold her breath captive. Chestnut waves were tied back from his face and hung down over the back of his neck. A high forehead, straight nose and full, sensual lips filled a masculine face. Dark brown eyes with just a hint of green at the center zeroed in on her and flashed with compassion at her state of distress. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d come to the room at a run.

He crossed the room in an instant and was over her, pulling her to her feet by her upper arms, gazing down into her eyes with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

“What’s happened?” he asked in a voice laced with French accent. “Are you all right?”

Mudiwa didn’t know what was going on. It seemed as if the stone wall she’d built around her emotions had broken and now she couldn’t stop crying. The crack in the damn fissured through the stone and crumbled it completely, bringing on a fresh wave of tears and sobs.

This man, whoever she was, did not know her and could not know all she had been through. She could not possibly voice it all now, especially while her body shook and trembled with the force of her sobs. So she leaned into him—how could she not when his eyes were so full of compassion for her?—and cried, giving voice to the only thing she could at the moment.

“My hair!” she moaned, burying her face against his soft shirt. “My face!”

Strong arms came around her and one hand lifted to stroke the soft, downy curls, now shorter than his own flowing locks. While she’d never been vain, her hair had never seen a pair of scissors. In a lifetime where everything had been taken away from her in one fell swoop, the loss of her hair felt like a tragedy.

The stranger rocked her gently and crooned to her softly, “It’s all right. You’re fine now. The doctor had to cut away most of your hair in order to stitch together your head wound. It’s already grown since then and it will continue to.”

Mudiwa shook her head, her face still buried against this man’s chest as the smell of tobacco and spicy aftershave invaded her senses.

The man only held her tighter and continued murmuring to her in French. While Mudiwa did not have a fluent knowledge of the language, she’d learned a lot from Queen Isabelle and recognized several of the words he murmured.

“Vous êtes belle.”

You are beautiful.

“Radieux. “

Radiant.

“Statuesque et royale. Comme une déesse.”

Statuesque and regal. Like a goddess.

Mudiwa stilled and lifted her gaze to his, her outward tremors abating as inward tremors began. He smiled down at her as he lifted his thumbs to wipe at the tears beneath her eyes. Mudiwa’s breath left her lungs noisily but she was otherwise motionless as she stared into this strange man’s eyes.

Who was he? Had he been the one to find her and take her in? Most importantly, why did her heart resound with an all too familiar emotion when his hands came to rest on his shoulders and his eyes became serious once again as they burned into hers?

She dreaded the answer to this question most of all.

Isaac gazed down at the dark beauty in his arms and felt tremors rolling through his soul. While there was still extensive bruising on her face and along her shoulders and arms, there was still no disguising her exotic attractiveness.

Skin the color of coffee stretched over sharp and majestic features. Her eyes, wide and almond shaped, were so dark and deep that Isaac knew he could stare into them forever in an attempt to solve the mysteries there. Her lips were plump, ripe and full, begging for a man’s kiss. As they were parted now to allow her rapid breath escape, Isaac longed to cover them with his own.

The shorter hair was actually quite flattering, the curls surrounding her head like a soft, dark halo. Sunlight gleamed in from the window and strengthened the effect.

She was tall, only about two inches shorter than him, with a body that was a mixture of beauty and power. Long, lithe muscles stretched beneath soft skin, while full breasts and soft hips rounded her out perfectly. He could see almost every inch of her through the white shift, and tried not to stare at the dark circles of her nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

Instead, he focused on her eyes. He nodded and smiled as her breathing slowed to normal and she seemed to accept the things he’d said at face value.

“Better?” he asked as he forced his hands away from her and took a step back. While everything in him itched to bring her back against his body, he knew better. She was still very fragile and he didn’t want to send her into another bout of tears by being too forward.

She nodded and fumbled with the hem of her borrowed shift. “Where am I?” she asked.

“Prideux Plantation, my home,” he answered, searching her face for any flicker of recognition. “I am Isaac Prideux. My friend found you in the market square in St. Pierre and brought you here, where you have been unconscious for two weeks. You were hurt quite badly when you arrived, but you’ve been healing nicely. How do you feel?”

Mudiwa raised her hand to the back of her head and rubbed gently, her eyes narrowed as she undoubtedly remembered what had caused the injury. As curious as he was to know what had happened to her, Isaac decided against asking. There was plenty of time for that later.

“Hungry,” she said slowly as she gazed around the unfamiliar room once more. “Disconcerted,” she added.

Isaac tried to put her at ease with a smile. “I hope you’ll allow me to rectify that,” he said as he gestured toward the armoire. “I took the liberty of having clothing brought up for you in the event that you awakened. I can call for a bath if you like, or you can dress now and join me downstairs in the dining room. You’ve awakened just in time for lunch.”

“Lunch first I think,” she said with a nod as she moved purposefully over to the cedar armoire. Isaac had borrowed clothing from Akoko, thinking that his guest might be more comfortable dressed in the cool caftans, jupe skirts, and blouses. “These are beautiful. Thank you for bringing them to me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Isaac said. “Actually, you should thank Akoko. She was more than happy to part with them.”

Mudiwa froze, her back stiffening at the sound of the familiar name. Isaac berated himself inwardly for the inadvertent slip. He had meant to allow her to get her bearings before broaching the subject of her long lost friend. If Akoko thought Mudiwa had been dead all these years then he had no doubt Mudiwa had mistakenly thought the same about Akoko.

She turned, her eyes wide and brimming with tears again. Her hands trembled as she took a wobbly step toward him.

“What was that name again?”

Isaac cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Damn, he felt like a cad!

“I’m so sorry Mudiwa, I was planning on telling you much later. I...”

“How do you know my name?” she asked, her voice raising an octave as she took another step toward him. “How do you know her name?”

Isaac used her hysteria as an excuse to touch her again, running his hands gently up and down her arms.

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “Your friend Akoko was distraught when she saw you laying there in the bed. She thought you were dead all of these years.”

“She is dead!” Mudiwa cried, shaking her head in disbelief. “It can’t be her!”

“But it is,” Isaac assured her, clasping her hands firmly with his. “It is her, Mudiwa. She recognized you and she is the one that told me your name. If you get dressed I will take you to her now and prove it.”

She continued to shake her head slowly, her eyes lowered as the tears spilled over once again. “Akoko, alive?”

Isaac smiled. “And in very good health,” he offered. “She has a family that I’m sure she’ll want you to meet.”

Mudiwa’s eyes were still watery and her smile shaky as she moved back toward the armoire and removed a white blouse and red and yellow jupe. She laid them out on the bed and turned back to him.

“I will just need a few moments,” she said.

Isaac felt heat creeping up into his face as he realized that he’d been staring. Of course, Mudiwa would want some privacy to dress.

“Of course, excusez-moi.”

As Isaac turned on his heels to leave the room, he tried not to imagine her slipping that thin shift over her head and the curves that were hidden beneath it. He clenched his teeth and sighed. What had gotten into him? While he was as virile as the next young, hot-blooded male, he’d certainly never reacted to a woman with such forceful emotion before. When she’d crumbled in his arms, all he’d wanted to do was hold her until she was finished crying. He’d wanted to comfort her, to touch her face and...

He shook his head and closed his eyes, fighting back the feeling as it began to swell in his chest once again.

~Chapter 10~

Mudiwa glanced around the small cottage and took in her surroundings in awe. Her gaze kept coming back to the woman seated beside her and the children of varying ages gathered around the low table. It was difficult after eight years of believing Akoko to be dead, seeing her sitting in a home with a husband and children surrounding her. Though she’d been aware of her friend’s non-deceased state for over an hour now, she still felt a jolting shock every time she glanced back at Akoko’s face.

She was the same as Mudiwa remembered her, smooth brown skin, dark eyes and a wide smile. The scar running along the side of her face was new and Mudiwa felt pain in her heart over wondering what had happened.

After she’d dressed, Isaac had offered to take her straight to the little cottage just on the outskirts of Prideux Plantation, where his foreman lived with his wife and family. As she sat between Akoko and Isaac, sharing a delicious lunch, she watched the children running from the house to play in the yard. Akoko called out to them in Fongbe, reminding them to stay close, not wander out toward the thick jungle, and to avoid snakes.

Mudiwa took a sip of her Ti punch and took a bite out of one of Akoko’s famous fried plantains. She groaned with appreciation.

“No one fries a plantain like you, Akoko,” she said with a smile.

Akoko grinned back and offered her a few more from the hollowed calabash between them. “Take many,” she said in her stilted English. “Have lots more.”

Mudiwa took her up on the offer, as did Isaac who had been eating quietly and allowing the two women to catch up. While their reunion had been an emotional one, neither had wanted to bring up their long separation or what had happened to cause it.

Akoko broached the subject now as she spooned a second helping of fragrant rice onto her calabash.

“I wondered….all the years…where you were,” she managed as she looked up slowly from her plate. “Where?”

Mudiwa took a deep breath and noticed Isaac stiffening at her side, his breath held in anticipation. She cleared her throat.

“After Osumare found me with Asita, he took me before King Ghezo and told him of my betrayal. King Ghezo was furious and ordered my immediate execution.”

Mudiwa paused and lowered her eyes, feeling Isaac’s penetrating stare on her face as they waited for her to continue.

“Somehow my parents must have received word because my father arrived at the palace just hours before I was to be beheaded, begging King Ghezo for mercy. He told Ghezo that I was a stupid woman, one who had taken leave of her senses. My father made me out to be mad in the head and unfit for life in the palace. He begged to be allowed to take me home and promised to discipline me before marrying me off to someone who could control me.”

“Ghezo very prideful,” Akoko murmured. Through her broken English Mudiwa could sense the derision in her tone. She nodded in agreement.

“Yes, too prideful to allow an unfaithful wife to go unpunished. He would not release me to my father, but he did agree to spare my life.”

Akoko nodded. “He always favorable on you.”

Mudiwa snorted and rolled her eyes. “Ghezo wanted nothing more than for me to be as hot with desire for him as he was for me. Even with hundreds of wives fawning over him, he wanted my attention. He knew that I loved another but was arrogant enough to think he could gain my attention by showering me with gifts and praise. He hoped that the Mino training would subdue me, make me more amenable to his wants.”

Akoko’s laughter rang out through the small cottage. “You show him!”

Mudiwa shrugged and sat her calabash aside, her appetite suddenly gone as memories assaulted her mind. “For my betrayal he settled on selling me as a means of revenge. Ghezo knew that for me, becoming a slave would be a fate worse than death and that it was the one thing that could break my willfulness. It was very convenient for him that the French were passing through on one of their expeditions. He traded me, along with several others to a French slave merchant. Just before I was taken away, Ghezo told me that he’d already had you and Asita executed.”

Tears filled her eyes again and Mudiwa swiped at them angrily. Today seemed to be a day for crying, but she was tired of the feeling of weakness that accompanied the grief. Strength had always been her greatest attribute, but now she was being reduced to a sobbing mess. She squared her shoulders and continued.

“I spent weeks on board a slave ship bound for some unknown country, crammed into a space so tiny that I could not even stretch out my limbs. At that point, my life meant nothing. I had lost you, my closest friend, as well as Asita, my love. I felt no hope for the future and had no desire to become a slave.”

Mudiwa started when she felt a warm hand coming down over hers. She turned to meet Isaac’s gaze and felt comforted by the understanding and empathy she found there. He squeezed her hand lightly and nodded for her to continue.

“One morning I decided to play dead. Each day the bodies of the slaves who died from disease or starvation were tossed over the ship’s side. I lay very still and did not respond to their poking and prodding. Once they had me on the ship’s deck, I leaped up and threw myself over the edge, ready to die rather than live the rest of my life as a slave. I have heard stories of the way slaves are treated by their white captors and knew that such a life would surely kill me inside.”

“The weather was stormy and the waves were great. I hoped that they would overcome me and drag me down to my death. As I drifted further and further away from the ship, I saw land in the distance. Knowing that the slave traders would not brave the storm to catch me, I swam for it, for freedom. I did not know what awaited me on that land, but for some reason I felt the fight coming back into me. I wanted to live. I don’t know how I managed it, but I reached dry land at the port of a kingdom called Cardenas. After wandering for weeks, I found myself in place called Barony, where the captain of a women’s regiment found me hunting in the woods with a bow and arrows I had made myself. She invited me to join her ranks and gave me a home.”

She smiled fondly as the faces of Ava, Nell, and Hanako flitted through her mind. “My sisters are probably on this island now, searching for me. They must be sick with worry.”

Akoko had remained silent during Mudiwa’s story and was now staring down at her hands. “Why Ghezo, would lie?”

Mudiwa shook her head. “I do not know.”

Her eyes suddenly widened and hope filled her chest. She tried to tamp it back down, but it rose so swiftly and urgently within her that she could not.

“Asita?” she whispered, her hand slipping from Isaac’s grasp. She leaned forward and reached for Akoko’s arm, grabbing it in a vice-like grip.

“Asita!”

Akoko met her gaze and shook her head, twisting the dagger already embedded in Mudiwa’s heart. “I punish for helping but not sold first years. Asita…” she cleared her throat and fumbled for the words… “Eunuch.”

Mudiwa gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, horror flooding her at the thought of her Asita’s precious body mutilated in such a way. “A eunuch?”

Akoko nodded. “Made to serve King. Years that way until…”

She trailed off again, averting her eyes from Mudiwa’s. After a few moments of silence, she seemed to find the strength to make it through the rest of her tale. “Took own life year later for despair. Never stop loving Mudiwa.”

Mudiwa squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, against the horror of Asita’s fate. She’d known that King Ghezo showed no mercy to those who broke the laws. Not only had Asita dared to gaze upon one of the kings’ wives, but had lain with her, taking something that was not Mudiwa’s to give. Thinking of him forced to serve in the palace, mutilated and heartbroken, brought a fresh wave of tears and grief.

“I’m sorry,” Akoko murmured, patting Mudiwa’s hand affectionately. “Had to tell you.”

Mudiwa nodded. “Yes, I’m glad you did tell me Akoko. Thank you. At least now I know.”

Isaac, who had been pensively silent during the entire exchange reached out to take her hand once more and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Needing the comfort, Mudiwa allowed it and gave him a light squeeze back. They remained that way for several minutes before Akoko’s children tramped back into the house, led by Dayo. They had fashioned chains of wildflowers for their mother and their guest and brightened the room with their smiles, laughter and precious gifts. Mudiwa accepted her wildflower chain with a smile and tried to lift her spirits.

Asita might be gone, but at least Akoko had survived. While the girl hadn’t told the rest of her own story, Mudiwa could only guess that she was sold by Ghezo to traders. Somehow, she ended up on the island of Martinique. Mudiwa was grateful for it. Though the road had been long and hard for them both, their destinies allowed them to cross paths again over a decade later. Mudiwa could not think of a greater gift.

A few hours later, she and Isaac left the small cottage followed by cheerful cries and waves. As Isaac took her up onto his horse with promises to bring her back for a visit soon, Mudiwa tried not to think overlong on how well her body fit against his in the saddle. She lowered her eyes and tried not to think of his warm breath brushing against the back of her neck, now exposed by the shorter hair.

After they’d left the cottage behind, Mudiwa allowed herself to relax and enjoy the coolness of the evening as the sun began to set, casting shades of purple, orange and pink across the sky. From where they were, she could see the sparkling ocean beyond the lush, green foliage of the jungle.

“Mudiwa?”

Isaac’s voice split through the silence, jolting Mudiwa’s wandering mind back to the present.

“Yes?” she replied.

More silence followed as Isaac seemed to mull over what he wanted to say. A few minutes later he finally spoke. “I’m glad you didn’t drown.”

As they entered the front doors of the manor, Isaac nearly groaned aloud to find his father in the foyer. He cast a glance toward Mudiwa at his side and grimaced inwardly, wishing he could put her back on his horse and whisk her away again. Now that she was awake, there was nothing for it. His parents would know exactly who had been occupying the rose room.

The old man was fading rapidly and was now merely a shadow of his former self. His once island-tanned skin was now pale and dry. His eyes were sunken into his face and so were his cheeks. Dark hair sprinkled with gray hung around his shoulders and his rail-thin frame was supported by a thick cane. He paused in the middle of the foyer, where he was shrugging off the assistance of a heavily muscled Carib servant.

“Turn loose my arm,” he rasped as Isaac and Mudiwa entered the house. “I’m not a damned cripple.”

The servant relented but hovered nearby as if waiting for the lord of the manor to fall to the floor. He locked eyes with Isaac questioningly and Isaac nodded his approval. While the elder Isaac wasn’t ready to admit it, his illness had rendered him quite weak. Unfortunately, while his body was debilitated his tongue was quite razor sharp as was his mind. When he turned to find Isaac in the foyer, he frowned.

“There you are,” he said as he paused to lean on his cane, gasping for air. “Shouldn’t you be harvesting cane?”

“Père, it is sunset.”

Isaac Prideux III glanced through the window behind them and squinted before shrugging dismissively. “I suppose it is.”

He glanced up again and fixed Mudiwa with a disdainful stare, crinkling his nose as if taking in a bad odor. Isaac bristled and took a step forward to shield her from view. Isaac III would not be browbeaten. He took a step around his son and narrowed his gaze on Mudiwa.

“You dare to use the front door instead of the servant’s entrance.”

It was not a question, but a statement made with awe. While the Africans and Caribs had long been freed from slavery, the old man never ceased to remind those that worked in his house their place.

Mudiwa did not respond, but pulled herself up to her full, regal height and returned the manor lord’s frigid stare. Isaac grasped her arm and stepped between them again.

“She’s not a servant,” he bit out from between clenched teeth. “She is a guest.”

His father frowned, mumbling under his breath in French, something about his son and his propensity for socializing with people of color. Isaac ignored this and turned to Mudiwa.

“Dinner will be served soon, but I gather you’re still full from our meal at Femi’s home.”

Mudiwa nodded, diverting her eyes from the wrinkled old man assessing her. “It has been a long day,” she said. Isaac could feel the tension pulling at the corners of her mouth, but admired her restraint. “I will see myself back to my room.”

“Assurément,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the staircase. “If it’s all right with you, I will stop in to check on you later.”

Mudiwa nodded again silently and turned to move toward the staircase. Isaac watched her progress, following her graceful stride and the soft sway of her hips as she disappeared from view. When she was gone, his father’s voice intruded once again.

“I heard there was a sick woman recovering in the rose room,” he said, inching toward Isaac on his cane.

Isaac felt his hands curl into fists as he waited for the inevitable. “Yes,” he said calmly. “Femi found her in the market square close to death. He was going to take her home but I decided to bring her here where she could rest in quiet and be attended by a physician.”

“Should have left her in the gutter,” the elder Isaac cackled as he continued to make his way toward the dining room. “Come on then, garçon. Dinner is served.”

While Isaac had what his mother liked to call a bottomless stomach, the idea of sharing a table with his namesake tonight left him feeling nauseous.

“Non, je vous remercie. I seem to have lost my appetite.”

“Suit yourself.”

Isaac deflated visibly, releasing the tension from his shoulders as his father disappeared from sight. At that same moment, Albert and Femi appeared in the foyer, having just come from the cane fields.

“Ah, there you are,” Albert exclaimed as he wiped his dusty hands on his trousers. “How is your patient today?”

“Awake and mending well,” Isaac reported. “I took her to visit with Akoko today.”

Femi smiled. “I’m sure she was happy to see her. She has been very worried. Any word on how she ended up beaten half to death in the square?”

Isaac shook his head. “It has been quite an emotional day for Mudiwa. I didn’t want to upset her more. Finding Akoko alive was quite a shock.”

Femi nodded. “Fair enough. Where is she now?”

“Resting upstairs.”

“I should go then,” Femi said, clasping each Prideux brother in a hug before turning to leave. “Until tomorrow, mes frères.”

Once Femi was gone, Albert turned to Isaac. “You spent the whole day with her?”

“She was distraught, Albert,” Isaac answered, his voice tinged with annoyance. “It wouldn’t have done to leave her alone in that state. What would you have had me do?”

“Send for Akoko and allow her to tend to her friend, while you tend to more important matters.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the ever-present tension welling up there again. “Albert, I am in no mood.”

“Neither am I,” Albert said with a shrug as he moved toward the staircase. “I just spent the entire day picking up your slack.”

Isaac waved his brother’s comment off dismissively and turned to walk away. Albert’s voice gripped his collar and froze him in place only a few steps away.

“This will all be yours someday,” he said with just the tiniest hint of jealousy edging his voice.

Isaac turned to glance over his shoulder at Albert. “I never asked for it,” he replied. “If I could change things, Albert, I’d make you the older brother so that this burden would not be upon me. Unfortunately, that is not the case.”

“Prideux is not yours to give,” Albert offered by way of apology. He knew better than anyone how little Isaac cared for the Prideux legacy. Unfortunately, on the island of Martinique there was nothing else for a man in his position to do besides marry and produce a son to continue on the family line and business.

“No,” Isaac said softly as he turned his back to his brother again. “It is not.”

He left Albert in the foyer and moved toward his study, where a pile of work awaited him. He’d put it off all day and now that Mudiwa was settled he could finally attend it. There were ledgers to be filled and a delivery schedule to be composed. The rum distilleries would want their sugar cane syrup, the bakeries would want their powdered sweetener and the traders and residents of St. Pierre and Fort-de-France would want their sugar cubes.

While he worked, Isaac tried not to let his mind wander to the rose room and its occupant. Mudiwa’s story had stirred him in ways he could never hope to understand. He admired her bravery of heart and her vibrant spirit. No man he knew could have ever endured what she’d gone through and come out of the other side of it whole.

Yet, for all he’d learned about her today she was still a mystery. Akoko had called her the wife of a king and the fact that she belonged to another man didn’t sit well in Isaac’s stomach for reasons he would rather not have to think about at the moment. Knowing that despite having a husband, she had loved this man named Asita so passionately sat in his gut like a cold stone.

What else was there to the mysterious woman? How had she come to be on the island? Who had hurt her so badly and left her to die in the market square? Now that she was awake and healing, where would she go? Did Isaac even want her to go?

All were questions that needed answering and at midnight when he was finished with his work, he found himself full of determination. He would get as much out of her in the morning as possible.

With that decided, he rose from his chair and lifted his long arms over his head in a languid stretch. Wanting to indulge in his father’s stash of expensive French tobacco before bed, he stepped through the double doors leading to the terrace, stuffing his pipe as he went. The warm, balmy air tinged with the smell of salty sea enveloped him and Isaac leaned against one of the massive white pillars, lighting the pipe and enjoying his quiet solitude.

When he was finished, he moved from his spot leaning against the pillar and started to return inside. A light in one of the upstairs windows caught his gaze. He was surprised to find Mudiwa behind the glass, standing eerily still and gazing out over the moonlit cane fields. After a few minutes, she disappeared from view, retreating back into her room. Isaac stood there a bit longer, waiting for her to snuff out the lamps burning in her room but the darkness never came.

It would seem that his guest was a restless as he was. Choosing not to wait any longer to have his answers, Isaac went back inside. He breezed through his study and out into the main part of the house now gone quiet. Isaac moved on swift feet up the stairs and paused in front of the rose room. Light spilled from under the door and he could hear her moving around inside. Without hesitation, he raised his fist and knocked.

~Chapter 11~

Mudiwa was surprised to open the door and find Isaac standing on the other side. He leaned against the frame, his shoulders filling the space as well as his height. His lustrous brown waves had been loosened and now hung down to his shoulders. His deeply tanned face, neck and hands enhanced the stark whiteness of his shirt, now unbuttoned at the neck to reveal a bit of his equally tanned chest. Mudiwa tore her eyes away from the swirls of dark, curly hair covering bulging chest muscles and met his gaze.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, lifting his shoulder away from the doorway. “I was out on the terrace downstairs and saw your light on. I wondered if you were having trouble sleeping.”

Mudiwa placed her hand over the belt of the lightweight dressing gown she’d found in the armoire, acutely aware of Isaac’s perusal. After she assured herself that the gown was belted tightly, she answered him.

“I am a bit unsettled,” she said. “I have had quite a few shocks today and have found it hard to calm my mind long enough to sleep.”

“Do you, by any chance, like brandy? You could join me downstairs for a nightcap if you’d like. It might help you to sleep.”

Mudiwa couldn’t repress her smile. One of the many rewards King Ghezo bestowed upon his Mino were bottles of spirits traded from the French. Brandy was among one of her favorites. She stepped past him and into the hallway.

“That would be fine,” she said.

He led her into a drawing room decorated in shades of ivory, pale yellow and gold. Mudiwa studied the fine French furniture, and thick, Oriental rugs as Isaac lit two lamps before moving to the sideboard and shuffling through several decanters before locating the brandy. After filling both glasses halfway, he handed her one and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, careful to leave a bit of space between them.

In the dim glow of the lamps, Mudiwa couldn’t help but notice the deep mahogany tones of his hair, or the smooth texture of his skin. Her eyes came to rest on a full, sensual mouth and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Feeling heat rising up in her neck and face, she jerked her gaze away and opened her mouth, allowing the first thing that came to mind to come out in an effort to hide her discomfort.

“I find your island very strange.”

Instead of being insulted, as Mudiwa would have expected, Isaac merely smiled before taking a sip of his brandy. “That it is,” he agreed. “It has a very complicated history, but it is also beautiful and, yes, strange to those who have never experienced it.”

“I have never seen so many people of varying colors in one place before,” she admitted before trying her own brandy. She sighed at the taste of the robust liquor on her tongue.

“It’s a feast for the eyes, that’s for sure,” he responded. “The Caribs are the island natives. They were here when the French arrived hundreds of years ago. Most of them were wiped out by disease brought over from France. That was when they started importing slaves.”

Mudiwa noted the tension pulling around Isaac’s mouth and eyes and raised her eyebrows.

“And you find this repugnant?”

“Extremely. I am not fond of the notion of one man owning the other. The Caribs and Africans are people, not cattle to be worked to death or abused. I was never happier than the day slavery was abolished in all French colonies. It was a blessing, although the natives, Africans, and Tamils have much to overcome. They are free but they are still treated in a manner that belittles their humanity.”

“In my country we owned slaves,” Mudiwa said, polishing off the last of her brandy before setting the glass back onto the table. “I am sure you know that.”

“I can’t admit to understanding it. I would think you, of all people, would find slavery distasteful.”

“Oh, I do. But you have to understand that slaves were a part of our culture before white men ever set foot on our shores. It is just the way things are, Isaac. A person is a bound to a certain life by fact of birth. If you are born the son of a slave then you will undoubtedly become a slave. If you are born the daughter of a clan chieftain—”

“You become the wife of a king,” Isaac interjected. Mudiwa didn’t miss the intensity that crept into his stare as he said the words.

Mudiwa shook her head. “Marriage is not same among my people as it is among yours. Depending on his wealth, a man may take on several wives. King Ghezo, however, has hundreds.”

Isaac chuckled. “Mon Dieu, he must have been a very busy man!”

Mudiwa felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much as you may think. There were different castes among the wives and only the youngest and most beautiful Ahosi shared the king’s bed and many of them only once or twice within a year.”

“Then what purpose do the other wives serve?”

“Status symbols,” Mudiwa answered with a shrug as she accepted her refilled glass from Isaac. “A king in my country is looked upon with great respect for many reasons: his efficiency in battle, his handling of foreign traders and the number of wives and children he has among other things.”

“What about you? How did you find yourself the wife of a king?”

“My father is a clan chieftain and could not stomach the embarrassment of having such a willful daughter. Like your countrymen, mine believe that a woman should be submissive and quiet. I will admit to being neither of these things.”

“And your king admired you for your spirit?”

“Oh, no. It was thought that if I were trained to join the lower caste of King Ghezo’s wives, my submissiveness would be guaranteed.”

“What happens to the wives in the lower caste?”

“They are trained as warriors and huntresses. During times of peace we served as King Ghezo’s bodyguards as well as his gbeto—elephant huntresses. In times of war, we joined the ranks of his soldiers, fighting alongside the men for Dahomey.”

Isaac’s mouth fell open and disbelief clouded his eyes. “Elephants? Are you telling me that you hunted elephants?”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat as she took in his shocked expression. “It is a most frightening experience, but King Ghezo offered great rewards to those who returned alive and bearing proof of their kills.”

“Cher Dieu, I do not even want to know how you went about collecting proof.”

Mudiwa grinned mischievously enjoy Isaac’s incredulity. “Tusks and tails,” she said. “The tusks are very valuable in trade.”

“Unbelievable.”

“And yet it is true!” Mudiwa exclaimed, laughing freely now. “If we were in Dahomey, I could show you proof. I have collected eleven elephant tails during my time as a gbeto.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard such an incredible story. And you went off to war as well? Like a man?”

“I am as well trained as any male warrior from my country. Give me a musket and I will show you just how efficient I can be.”

Isaac was suddenly serious. “I do not doubt it,” he said softly, bringing one of his hands over hers on the sofa.

Warmth invaded her skin, moving with a subtle tingle up her arm and straight into her breast. She lowered her eyes and pulled her hand away before moving to stand.

“I should be going to bed now,” she murmured.

Isaac was on his feet in an instant, his hand racing out to stop her from leaving. “Wait, please.”

She paused and turned back to him, feeling overwhelmed by both his presence and the mingling of curiosity and pity she found in his eyes. Mudiwa knew before he spoke what he meant to ask her.

“Asita was a fool,” she answered the unspoken question. “And so was I to think that we could continue on the way we did forever.”

Isaac gazed down at her, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders lightly. “No man who ever loved you could be branded fool,” he whispered.

Mudiwa stiffened as Isaac pulled closer to her body, invading her space with his towering presence and musky, masculine scent. His hands slid up over her shoulders and he was cupping her face, lifting it up so that she could look him in the eye. She melted into him, frozen in place by dark brown irises melting into vibrant green at the center. Mudiwa felt her lips parting and her breath racing between them as he lowered his face toward hers, pausing when they were barely an inch apart.

Isaac stopped then, uncertainty flashing across eyes that had one second ago been glistening pools of desire. He dropped his hands from her face and left them hanging at his sides, though his body remained lightly pressed against hers. Mudiwa held her breath, tilting her head upward and waiting for him to speak, to move, to…do whatever it was he’d been about to do when he’d taken her into his arms.

Instead, he took a step away from her and then another. He cleared his throat and lowered his head, blocking his eyes from her view with a cascading lock of hair.

“I should wish you good night now,” he said softly, shoving his hands down into his pockets. “Sleep well.”

Mudiwa stood where Isaac left her, feeling strangely empty now that he had moved so swiftly away. She felt hollow and cold, and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle to ward off the sensation. Mudiwa walked toward the door, slowly and reluctantly, her bare feet noiseless on the thick rug. Pausing in the doorway, she turned back, her eyes roaming over his broad shoulders and back.

“You should know that I may have friends on this island looking for me. I was kidnapped and brought here by a man named Dorian Blake. He meant to kill me but I escaped and that was when your friend found me. I should try to look for them and assure them that I’m all right.”

Isaac’s back went rigid and his head came up, but he didn’t turn. “Very well,” he answered without moving. “In the morning we will discuss how to go about finding your friends.”

His dismissal stung, but she understood his reluctance for what it was. He’d wanted to kiss her. She’d felt it and couldn’t bring herself to quite admit that she’d wanted it too. Not only were they virtually strangers, they were also part of two very different worlds. At some point Ava was going to find her, of this Mudiwa had no doubt. When she did, Mudiwa would return home to Barony and the compound of the lady knights. Then what, she wondered as she turned once again to leave. Mudiwa pulled the door to the drawing room closed behind her and moved aimlessly down the hall, retracing her steps back to the staircase and up to the rose room.

As she snuffed out the lamps and slid beneath the covers, Mudiwa wondered as she never had before what the rest of her life would bring. Akoko had suffered as she had suffered, but had gone on to find a man to love and make children with. Ever since arriving in Barony her lot had been cast with the lady knights. She’d allowed her dedication to her new home and king to consume her, keeping her from the messy business of deciding whether or not to marry and have a family.

Mudiwa closed her eyes and fought back grief as Asita’s face flashed across her memory. After losing him, Mudiwa had never once had these feelings or thoughts. Now there was Isaac, a man she barely knew but who made her feel the all too familiar ache of want low in her belly, who had made her feel safe and protected from the moment she’d heard his voice in the midst of her tortured dreams.

As she drifted off to sleep, she whispered a silent prayer that Ava and the others would find her. The sooner the better, because the more time she spent in Isaac’s company, the more she would begin to think of those things she had forgotten; the feel of a man’s touch, the comfort of a man’s arms, and the potential effect that such a man could have on her carefully erected defenses.

****

The next morning, Isaac had just stepped from the shade of the massive storehouse, where drums of cane syrup were being toted, when he spotted Mudiwa coming toward him down the path. She was stunning in a fresh white blouse and floral jupe skirt. The material flowed around her legs, just barely reaching her knees, as she was several inches taller than Akoko and the ruffled blouse shifted as she moved to reveal one of her smooth shoulders. Her hair, recently washed and brushed, curled softly around her head and glistened in the sun.

Isaac tore his eyes away and fixed them on the dusty ground as he felt her drawing closer. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his pulse as Mudiwa drew near and he caught a whiff of the soap she’d bathed with. It mingled with her own sweet, unique scent, one he’d discovered the night before while holding her in his arms. His hands found their way into his pockets again, the only way to keep from reaching out to touch her, and he forced his face into a neutral expression as he looked back up at her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello,” she responded, toying with the hem of her blouse.

Isaac groaned and closed his eyes, but it was too late. The bit of deep coffee-colored skin just above her skirt had already tormented him by making an appearance.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded and jerked at his collar. “It’s unusually hot this morning,” he mumbled. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I thought to ask you the same thing.”

“Excusez-moi?”

“Well, until my friends find me or I find them I don’t just want to sit around all day doing nothing. I am used to filling my days training young soldiers or taking shifts guarding the village, or repairing weapons. Being idle is new to me and I find it distasteful.”

Isaac grasped her arm gently and pulled her toward the shade of the storehouse and away from the prying eyes of Albert and Femi, who were helping to store the drums of cane syrup.

“You have just recovered from a very serious incident. I want you to rest for a few days.”

Mudiwa smiled. “You are sweet. But really, I am fine. I’ve been worse off before.”

“Yes, I was there to hear the story, remember? That doesn’t mean I want you to tire yourself out or re-injure yourself while in my care.”

“Please Isaac, I cannot sit around all day doing nothing. Even the most menial task would be appreciated.”

“You are not a servant.”

“I am not asking to be,” she retorted. “I am simply asking to be allowed to earn my keep until I find my friends. Please.”

Isaac sighed, but relented with a nod. “You will find Akoko and her children in the banana groves. You can assist them with harvesting if you like. But please, stop and rest if you are feeling ill.”

At Mudiwa’s smile Isaac’s face grew stern. “I mean it, Mudiwa.”

She nodded, her smile widening and punching Isaac in the gut with its radiance. “Thank you!” she exclaimed before turning to make her way quickly toward the groves. Isaac stared after her, enthralled once more by the sway of rounded hips and the bounce of a perfectly rounded backside.

“Could you be any more obvious?”

Albert appeared at his side, sweat already pooling at his forehead, his hands on his hips. Isaac turned back to the storehouse, moving back inside to pick up his inventory where he’d left off.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Pretend ignorance all you want, but you’ve been obsessed with that woman since Femi brought her here beaten to a pulp. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he huffed, exasperated. “I admire her and I care about what happens to her, yes! But that’s all there is here. You’re concerned over nothing.”

Albert shrugged and moved back to the wagon piled with drums of cane syrup. “Très bien, don’t say I did not warn you. This has disaster written all over it.”

~Chapter 12~

Akoko watched Mudiwa from the corner of her eye as she dropped handfuls of bananas into the basket at her feet. The nimble young warrior quickly scaled her ladder again, searching the tree for more bunches ready to be cut down, curved knife in hand. She hummed as she sawed through vines to reach a bunch of green bananas directly overhead. Akoko scaled her own ladder, propped up on the tree beside Mudiwa’s.

“You are in good spirits today,” Akoko said in Fongbe, slipping easily into their native tongue now that they were alone.

Mudiwa shrugged as she cut down one cluster of bananas and reached for another. “It feels good to be out of that room,” she answered as she cut down a few more before descending to the wide basket on the ground. They worked this way together, each moving at a quick pace before moving to the next couple of trees. On either side of them Africans, Caribs, and a few Irish indentured worked at the same task.

“Your employer is a good man,” Mudiwa said softly, pausing to stare off into space as Akoko eyed her incredulously.

“Yes,” Akoko answered slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “He seems to care quite a bit about your welfare,” she said slowly, watching a slow smile creep over her friend’s face. “He hardly left your side while you were in bed.”

Akoko was stunned, but secretly glad of her friend’s reaction to this news. Having found Mudiwa after eight long years, Akoko would have hoped to find her happy. Instead, she’d found the same girl she’d lost; a sad, lonely, hollow shell, pining after a man that could never truly be hers. Isaac Prideux had the potential to change all of that. Knowing him as well as she did, Akoko couldn’t be more thrilled.

“You know,” she said carefully, slowly, “I haven’t seen you so giddy over a man since Asita.”

Mudiwa went still, her knife poised over a branch. Her gaze, shrewd and narrowed, met Akoko’s. Akoko laughed and began hacking at her own bunch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mudiwa replied coolly as she turned back to her work.

“Oh no? Then perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that he is coming this way.”

Mudiwa gasped and looked down to find Isaac moving swiftly toward them, dodging vines and low-hanging foliage, his face deadly serious. Mudiwa wrinkled her brow and descended the ladder, wondering at his clenched teeth and grinding jaw. She started to move down the ladder but was apprehended before her feet could hit the ground. Isaac had her lifted against his chest before she could blink.

“What are you doing?” she protested lamely with a hand against his chest. The heat from that broad, hard muscle seared her hand and left her limp in his arms.

“Where are your shoes?” he demanded, glaring at her accusingly while refusing to put her on the ground.

“Try to warn,” Akoko muttered in English as she placed her booted feet on the earth before dropping an armful of bananas into her basket. “Mudiwa always no listening.”

Mudiwa glared at Akoko and returned her attention back to the man holding her feet over the ground. “It’s hot,” she said with a shrug. “I left them off.”

“You’re hot?”

“Who isn’t?”

Ignoring this, Isaac took off through the grove with her, stalking back in the direction of the manor. Mudiwa frowned and tapped Isaac on the shoulder to gain his attention.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind telling me what you think you’re doing?”

“Do you know what fer-de-lance are?”

Mudiwa shook her head as they cleared the banana grove and the tall, white manor house came into sight. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

“They are a breed of poisonous viper native to this island. Snakes so poisonous that even one drop of their venom could kill you. One bite on the ankle and you’re a dead woman.”

“I did not see any snakes.”

Isaac sighed as he trotted up the porch steps and dropped her into one of the many wicker chairs there.

“You don’t see them,” he said, hovering over her with his hands on his hips. “One could find you and bite you before you can even blink an eye.”

“I’m sorry,” Mudiwa said, stunned by the genuine concern etched across his forehead and pulling at his mouth. “I didn’t realize—”

“There are no elephants here, my little huntress, but there are other dangers. You have to be aware and listen to those who have lived here longer than you.”

“Of course, Isaac.”

“Bon. Now, you should eat something.”

“I ate this morning.”

“That was hours ago. I want you to eat again. I’ll even join you.”

Before Mudiwa could protest again, Isaac was ushering two Tamil servants through the open front doors of the manor. One carried two steaming plates full of food and the other carried a full pitcher of Ti punch and two glasses on a tray. Mudiwa watched with wide eyes as the repast was laid out on a small table beside her chair. Isaac took a seat on the opposite side of the table and glanced pointedly at her.

“You will eat.”

Mudiwa laughed and reached for her glass, raising it to Isaac before draining half of the punch thirstily. “You planned this.”

Isaac shrugged. “I understand your need to feel useful and I greatly admire it. But I meant what I said about not allowing you to become ill or injured again while in my care. How should I explain to your friends that Femi and I rescued you only to allow you to become hurt again? What kind of friend would I be to you?”

Mudiwa lifted her calabash and dug into fragrant roasted fish and succulent mussels over a bed of rice scented with saffron. She glanced up at Isaac and chewed thoughtfully. After a few moments, she smiled.

“You consider yourself my friend.”

Isaac paused, his glass halfway up to his lips. He sat it back down on the table and turned his pensive gaze on her. “I do. I want you to feel at home here until we locate your friends. Femi and I plan to travel into St. Pierre tomorrow and search the docks for any foreign ships. That should be our first clue as to whether or not your friends have come.”

“Shall I come with you?”

Isaac frowned as he lifted his own plate. “What of this man you mentioned, Dorian Blake? How dangerous is he?”

Mudiwa shivered at the memory of Blake’s twisted and grotesque face as he loomed over her on the bed, his fist cocked back to strike her. Isaac must have noticed the shiver and frowned.

“No, I think it best if you remain here,” he decided. “In the meantime I want you to tell me everything you know about him. Everything.”

“There is not much to tell. My fellow soldiers and I set out after Blake when he made off with several women. We tracked him across Barony to Cardenas, knowing only that he planned to sail from Cardenas’ port to an island in the West Indies called Martinique. Our plan was to stop him before he sailed. During that time, our leader, Ava, went missing and we split off into two groups. One group went after Blake and the other, my group, went in search of our missing friend. I was separated from the group and found by some of Blake’s men. Soon after I found myself on a ship bound for Martinique. I do know that Ava has been found and her last words to me as the ship sailed off into the night were for me to not lose hope because she was coming for me.”

“This Ava, she sounds a lot like you.”

Mudiwa laughed. “If by that you mean she sounds determined and strong, then yes. We are kindred spirits, she and I. I know that she will not rest until I am found. My heart tells me that she is already here.”

“Then I will do my best to try to reunite you with her.”

“Ahem.”

The sound of a throat being cleared shattered their peaceful and comfortable companionship and both turned to find a beautiful young woman standing at the bottom of the porch steps. Mudiwa couldn’t help but be stunned by this girl. Her skin was incredibly milky white and her dark hair and eyes the perfect compliment. She was dressed at the height of fashion and carrying a frilly, white parasol. She cast Mudiwa a disdainful glare before turning to wave at Isaac with her lace-gloved hand.

“Mon amour!” she cried with a wide grin as she stepped up onto the porch.

Mudiwa inwardly cringed at the intimate moniker and turned away, pretending to watch the progress of the cane harvesters in the distance.

“Genevieve.”

Mudiwa could not see Isaac’s face but his voice was even and cool, lacking any of the warmth exuding from the girl. Genevieve seemed unperturbed by it as she lowered her parasol in the shade of the terrace.

“Fancy finding you here in the middle of the day,” she said in a thickly accented voice. “Your Maman invited me for lunch, but I had no idea I would be so honored to see you.”

She extended her hand imperiously and left it hovering on the air between them, until Isaac was forced to stand and bow over it before kissing the air above it.

“Well then, I am certain Maman is waiting for you most impatiently,” he said as he dropped her hand back to her side. “You would not want to keep her waiting.”

Mudiwa felt the girl’s gaze jump back and forth between her and Isaac. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Genevieve responded.

“Will you not join us, Isaac? I’m sure your Maman would be delighted.”

Mudiwa felt Isaac stiffen and shift uncomfortably beside her in his chair. He gestured with one hand toward the spread on the table between them.

“I am already occupied, as you can see,” he said with a forced smile. “Perhaps another day, oui?”

Mudiwa could feel Genevieve’s eyes burning into her, but refused to look away from the cane fields. While she didn’t want to admit it, this woman with her frigid beauty intimidated her for reasons she did not even begin to want to understand. She hoped that by ignoring the feelings, they would be caused to fade away.

“Bien sûr. I shall see you another time, mon amour.”

Isaac didn’t try to deflect the peck Genevieve placed his cheek, but also did not return her affection. The young woman breezed past them with one last smoldering glare in Mudiwa’s direction before disappearing into the house.

Silence continued once Genevieve was gone while Mudiwa turned her attention back to her meal. While her curiosity burned to know more about the girl who kissed Isaac and called him ‘amour’, she decided that it was none of her concern. Of course, a wealthy planter like Isaac would be sought after by the ladies of the island. Mudiwa would be willing to wager that he had no shortage of women banging down his door. And while the thought caused an ugly feeling to well up in her gut, she pushed it aside.

“Where were we?” Isaac asked after awhile, turning to lift the pitcher and refill both their glasses with punch. His mouth was pinched into an expression of annoyance, stoking Mudiwa’s curiosity even more. “I apologize for the interruption.”

“It’s all right,” she replied. “Genevieve, she is a friend of your family?”

Isaac nodded. “Yes. The Broussard’s plantation borders ours and our families have been acquainted for generations.”

“She is quite lovely.”

Mudiwa felt humiliation wash over her the moment the words were out of her mouth. By saying them, she’d done exactly what she’d told herself she was not going to do and revealed just how much Genevieve’s sudden appearance had unnerved her. What was wrong with her? Mudiwa barely knew Isaac. She certainly had no claim on him and no right to feel jealousy or possessiveness.

Why was it then, that her heart fluttered so madly as he turned to her and smiled? His chuckle sent warmth through her belly and lifted her spirits instantly.

“She is,” he relented with a lazy shrug. His eyes twinkled and his smile faded as something more serious came over his features. Isaac dropped his cup to the table and his fingers traced a slow path up her arm to her shoulder. “But I am looking at something even more lovely,” he murmured as his hand came to a stop near her neck, where his fingers found soft tendrils of curly hair.

Mudiwa shivered despite the heat, locked in Isaac’s gaze.

“Why would you say something like that?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Because,” he said as his hand came up to the back of her head, “it’s true.”

Genevieve Broussard was not a jealous woman ordinarily. Because Isaac Arnaud Prideux IV was one of the handsomest and wealthiest planters on the island, she had no shortage of competition. However, Genevieve always had the edge because of their family connection, neighboring lands and stunning beauty. No one had ever questioned the notion of a marriage between them and most saw it as an inevitability. While the occasional French maiden might have attempted to turn his head, most knew that their efforts went unnoticed. Isaac might have indulged in the occasional affair, but marriage just wasn’t something he was interested in for the time being. When he was ready, though, everyone knew who his bride would be.

The idea had always filled Genevieve with pride and possessiveness. Isaac was hers and everyone on the island well knew it.

Why was it then, that the sight of Isaac lunching with the mysterious African woman had filled her with unfamiliar pangs of jealousy? Isaac was a man with a healthy appetite, but Genevieve had always been more than willing to overlook his discreet liaisons. It was the way of men, after all. As long as marriage to her subdued him into faithfulness, Genevieve had no problem with turning a blind eye to the occasional dalliances of a bachelor.

But something about this one bothered her. There was a gleam in Isaac’s eyes when he’d looked at the African, something Genevieve had never experienced when he looked upon her. She knew that Isaac found her beautiful, but he gazed upon this woman as if she were some rare and exotic creature in a way that set Genevieve’s teeth on edge.

“Who is she?” she asked absently as she watched them through the windows of the drawing room where she’d been awaiting Hortense.

Her future mother-in-law joined her at the window and stared through the sheer, white curtains at the scene on the porch. Wrinkles stood out around her mouth when she frowned, watching the two as they spoke in hushed tones, heads lowered toward one another’s.

“My son’s foreman found her, injured in the market square,” she answered, continuing to watch through the curtain. “Isaac has taken it upon himself to see to her welfare and return her to wherever it is she came from.”

Genevieve wrinkled her brow and her nostrils flared. Isaac was always taking on the burdens of some poor soul. He’d always had a soft spot for the island’s natives as well as the former slaves, thinking them equal to himself and taking many as friends. It was a distasteful trait, one she hoped to cure him of once they were married. It would seem that she would have to start with his most recent charity case.

“That’s our Isaac,” she said. “I am certain he’ll have her on her way soon enough.”

The lines between Hortense’s eyes deepened as she turned away from the window and took Genevieve’s arm. “Yes of course,” she murmured distractedly. “Shall we go in to lunch now?”

Genevieve followed obediently, but did not miss the concerned glance that Hortense cast toward the window as they exited the drawing room. Perhaps it was time for her to kick her efforts up a notch. If Isaac’s moon-eyed expression over the mystery woman was any indication, she would certainly need to act fast.

~Chapter 13~

Hanako removed her madras head wrap and joined her sisters at the small, rough table in the corner of their inn room. A bowl of lukewarm soup was pushed in front of her and she accepted it with relish, digging in with her spoon beneath Ava and Nell’s watchful eyes. When she’d finished her meal, she pushed the bowl away and ran a hand through her chin-length, raven black locks. She flexed her aching feet in memory of the long walk through St. Peirre, but she pushed her discomfort aside.

For days, Hanako had gone covertly from house to house in the more affluent section of St. Pierre, dressed in native garb and speaking with gossiping servants. After days of this, she’d finally come upon a servant who’d given her some very useful information. She folded her hands on the table and spilled her tale.

“An African woman was seen wandering through the market square about three weeks ago,” she said, leaning toward her friends. “She was beaten and bleeding and wearing native clothing but no shoes. She collapsed to the ground and many who saw her thought her dead.”

Ava gasped and Nell frowned, but Hanako shook her head and held up her hand.

“There’s more. The man I spoke with says he saw a man, a giant, he called him, stop and pluck her up from the street. He recognized the man as a plantation foreman, but he couldn’t remember which one. He says the man disappeared with her into town. That was the last anyone I spoke to saw of her.”

Ava leaned back in her chair and fiddled with the hilt of the weapon at her hip. “So, I think it’s safe to assume that she has escaped Blake.”

“Just barely,” muttered Nell with a shake of her head. At Ava’s narrowed glare, Nell shrugged. “Hanako said she was described as being ‘near death’.”

Ava sighed and buried her face in her hands. “And now we’ve lost her again. We have no way of knowing who has her and what their intentions are. For all we know, she could have been rescued and is being nursed back to health.”

“Possibly,” Hanako chimed in. “Or, she could be in the clutches someone just as unsavory as Blake.”

“God help us,” Nell said, bringing her fist down to the table top, rattling Hanako’s bowl. “How are we to proceed now?”

“Reconnaissance,” Ava said with a decisive nod. “We will ask around about a plantation foreman who fits the description of the man Hanako described. There can’t be too many giants walking around the island, so that should narrow it down. Once we find out where this plantation is, we will have to send you in dressed as a servant, Hanako.”

Hanako nodded once, sharply. “I will find her and report back to you.”

“Hopefully, we will find her safe,” Nell said.

“And if not?”

Hanako smiled. “If not, the lady knights will be forced to act.”

Ava returned her smile, her fingers tightening on the dagger hilt. “It will be as you have said. We will not leave this island without her.”

****

Isaac took a seat across from Femi at the outdoor café they’d chosen to visit for their afternoon meal. The morning had been quite eventful, as the pair went the length of St.Pierre’s market square on horseback, collecting bits of information that added truth to Mudiwa’s tale. While he hadn’t yet deciphered their location, Isaac learned that a group of foreigners had been making the rounds before him, asking questions about a missing African woman that fit Mudiwa’s description. However, no information could be found on a man named Dorian Blake and if Isaac hadn’t seen Mudiwa’s injuries with his own eyes he would wonder if her alleged kidnapping hadn’t been anything more than a very vivid dream.

No, he decided as he and Femi ordered their meal and accepted glasses of bavarois, Mudiwa would not have imagined such a thing. It stood to reason that the name Dorian Blake was only an alias and that would make him only that much harder to find. As they awaited their food, Femi glanced at the small parcel on the table between them.

“Do you think it is a good idea to be buying gifts for your guest?”

Isaac glanced from Femi, down to the parcel containing a brightly printed sarong he’d purchased for Mudiwa and back again. He shrugged.

“I thought that Mudiwa might want to accompany Akoko to the shore one of these days,” he answered nonchalantly. “She would need an appropriate garment for swimming, vous ne pensez pas?”

Femi eyed him closely, silent reproach lining his features. “Fine then,” he said, exasperated. “Let’s have it, Femi. You no doubt feel the same way as Albert on this subject and you might as well get it off of your chest! You think I’m becoming attached to her.”

“I think you are using her as a way to pretend that you are not unhappy in your life.”

“I am not using anyone.”

“Not in the way that you think I mean. But in your own way, yes, you are. You are hoping to fit her into your existence because you feel happier with her around, but you cannot forget that she does not belong here. She belongs in this place called Barony with the people who love her and are protected by her.”

“Who says that she must?” Isaac asked, with false hope burgeoning in his chest. Even as he said the words, he clung to them with his soul, hoping to bring them to truth. “She learned to make a new life when she was taken from her country, she can do it again here.”

“And where would she fit into your world Isaac? As your mistress?”

Isaac felt his knuckles crackling as he curled his hand into his fist. “Beware what you say, Femi,” he warned, his tone low and ominous.

Femi glanced down at Isaac’s curled fist and arched an eyebrow, not cowed by his friend’s aggressive posture in the least.

“I speak truth and you know it. What kind of life would a woman like Mudiwa have as a planter’s wife on this island? The other planter’s wives would shun her because she is African and the Africans would shun her for being married to a Frenchman. And how is a warrior such as her supposed to thrive in a circle where women are docile and quiet? Could you imagine her dressed in ruffles and lace and sipping tea with women like Genevieve?”

This stunned Isaac into silence as he tried to form a picture in his mind and felt his heart breaking at the thought. Even if Mudiwa reciprocated his feelings—which he was sure she could not—he could never subject her to such a life. He fell silent as their food arrived, but could not seem to muster any interest in eating it.

Femi lifted his fork and knife and dug into a stuffed, roasted fish before speaking again.

“I do not say these things to hurt you, Isaac I believe that your feelings for Mudiwa are genuine and honorable but you should consider the consequences of allowing yourself to become attached to something that could never be anything more than a passing fancy. She will leave and you will be heartbroken, and that I cannot bear to see.”

Isaac poked at his fish despondently. “Your words are wise and my mind understands them Femi, but it is not my mind that needs convincing.”

They were interrupted as a shadow fell over them. Isaac glanced up to find Andrew Forsyth, another one of the island’s wealthiest planters as well as a prolific tradesman. He stood over their table dressed finely, though he leaned heavily on a cane and sported few bruises on his face.

Forsyth came from generations of planters, just as Isaac did, though his heritage was as mixed as many of the island’s inhabitants. As the story went, Forsyth’s father had returned from a trading voyage with a pregnant American heiress on his arm. Because Forsyth was of dubious background, he was not always welcomed into the highest of circles. Hortense, however, always remembered to include their family when sending out invitations.

Isaac stood and offered Forsyth his hand, perusing his marred countenance with curiosity. Femi remained seated and continued eating.

“Bonne journée à vous,” Forsyth said in greeting. “How interesting that I should come upon you after just receiving an invitation to Prideux,” he said with a charming smile.

Isaac smiled politely, but frantically grasped about his mind for any memory of a soiree being thrown by his mother in the near future.

Forsyth only continued smiling. “I’m certain you’ve been too busy with this year’s harvest to be privy to such knowledge, but there is to be an intimate ball in honor of your father’s sixty-ninth birthday in one week’s time.”

Isaac nodded as he faintly remembered his mother saying something on the subject a few weeks before. “Ah oui,” he replied cordially. “I trust you’ll be attending?”

“Yes, though I might not be well enough for the dance floor.”

“What the devil have you done to yourself, Forsyth?”

Forsyth shuffled and shifted his weight as he continued leaning on his cane. “That mare of mine spooks too easily, I’m afraid. Came across a fer-de-lance in the woods a few weeks past and the damned beast went wild and threw me. I’m on the mend and the doctor assures me I shall make a full recovery.”

“That is fortunate,” Isaac said. “I shall see you then?”

Forsyth nodded but lingered, eyeing Isaac as if there were more he wished to say.

“I do hope you won’t find me presumptuous for asking, but…”

He trailed off and Isaac motioned for him to continue. “Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation there. Did you know that my mother’s father held a title in Barony?”

Isaac shook his head. “No I can’t say that I did.”

“Oh yes, my grandfather went to the continent from Barony after abandoning his seat at court. I came to claim the title myself a few years ago when my mother learned of it from a distant relative. But now I’m losing sight of the point. What I wanted to tell you was that I know the woman of whom you spoke. Mudiwa, you called her?”

Isaac eyed Forsyth warily and nodded. “Yes. Unfortunate circumstances have landed her on the island for the time being.”

“One of the first lady knights of the province, you know. I don’t know her personally, mind you, but I do know that she and the other women of her regiment served quite honorably in the war. Perhaps I could assist you in getting the girl back where she belongs. I’m certain you intend to make provision for her, but my ship is scheduled for another voyage during which time I intend to stop for a few weeks in Barony to tend to some affairs there. If you like, I can take her on board and offer safe passage free of charge. It’s the least I can do to see one of Barony’s greatest soldiers back where she belongs.”

Isaac felt the hairs on the back of his necks prickling at Forsyth’s offer, but could not fathom what it could mean. It seemed perfectly harmless, but for some reason thinking of handing Mudiwa over to him gave him pause. He schooled his features into those of indifference.

“You are most kind,” he said, assessing the eager light in Forsyth’s eyes. “I will, of course, have to talk it over with her. If she is amenable to your plan, I will most certainly be in contact with you concerning the details.”

Forsyth’s mouth tightened and annoyance flared in his eyes for a few seconds before the charming smile appeared again.

“Bon,” he replied. “I will be staying at my townhouse in the city for a few more days, but will returning to Le Grove shortly. You can reach me there when you’ve decided.”

“Of course. Merci beaucoup.”

Forsyth nodded and tipped his hat before sauntering away from the café and toward his awaiting carriage. Isaac rejoined Femi at their table and mulled over the odd conversation thoughtfully.

“I do not trust him,” Femi said, his eyes narrowed as he watched Forsyth’s progress.

Isaac followed Femi’s gaze. “Neither do I, but for the life of me I cannot understand why.”

“Intuition is a powerful thing. You should listen to yours. Continue looking for your amour’s friends and leave Andrew Forsyth out of this.”

“Mudiwa is not my amour,” Isaac snapped, turning his attention back to his now lukewarm fish.

Femi merely leaned back in his chair and smiled knowingly.

****

Mudiwa sunk her toes into the wet sand and sighed, closing her eyes as the wind sprayed salty drops of ocean onto her skin. Frothy white waves lapped at her feet and the sea stretched beneath a cloudless and starry sky. She took a few steps in, stopping when the water reached just up to her calves and stared out at the dark horizon.

Akoko had shown her the path from her cottage down the side of the mountain to the beach with sand made black from Mt Pelee. Mudiwa did not know what to expect when told that the sand on this side of the island had been tainted by volcanic ash, but she certainly hadn’t expected such beauty. When the two women arrived that afternoon with the children and a stuffed picnic basket, Mudiwa had been awed by the beach’s unusual beauty. The sand gleamed like polished ebony wood in the sun and now glittered like precious onyx in the moonlight.

Her romp with the children down by the shore had been fun. After eating they’d waded for crabs and dug in the sand for seashells. Mudiwa returned now for some time alone with her thoughts. They were turbulent and much harder to muddle through in Isaac’s presence.

Isaac.

Her thoughts drifted back to the handsome Frenchman as she ran her hand over the thin fabric of the sarong he’d given her. The vibrant yellow, green, and white fabric was beautiful, and she’d told him so when he gave it to her upon his return from St. Pierre that afternoon. He’d also come with the news that her friends were on the island looking for her. While his eyes lit with pride when she’d expressed happiness over his gift, she’d noticed their hooded sadness as he related news of her friends arrival. As much as she didn’t want to think about what it meant, she couldn’t help but wonder if his sadness was over their impending farewell.

She certainly hadn’t expected to form any attachments while in Martinique, but here it was, this ache in her chest at the prospect of leaving Isaac behind to return to Barony. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss home, she did. It was him. It was Isaac that made her feel empty at the thought of boarding a ship to leave for good.

How had this happened? Not since Asita had she felt such comfort and easiness around a person. Not since the death of her love had she gazed into the eyes of a man and longed to be held. She had once thought those feelings dead, buried in the ground with Asita’s corpse. Now they were alive again and burgeoning to the surface like the green stalk of a flower bursting through warm soil after the first thaw of spring. While her feelings were still young and tender, Mudiwa knew that time would only magnify them.

The sooner Ava and the others found her, the better. She did not know how much more she could take.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Isaac appeared on the beach, coming toward her off the path she’d taken down from Prideux. The soft evening breeze tugged at his loose hair and half-unbuttoned shirt, whipping the material around his hardened body like a ship’s sail in a storm. The moonlight kissed him with a soft glow, alighting on his features as he neared. She stood still, hypnotized as he approached, studying the chiseled lines and smooth angles of his face. His lips softened into a smile as he neared, his boots splashing in the water as he joined her.

“There you are,” he said. “Akoko mentioned your trip down to the beach today and warned me that I might have a hard time pulling you away.”

Mudiwa smiled and turned to gaze out at the crashing waves as Isaac stood beside her, his shoulder touching hers.

“It’s so beautiful,” she replied. “A beach with black sand…who would have imagined?”

“It is very unusual. I see that you are making use of my present.”

She sneaked a glance up at him and ran a hand over the fabric at her hip. “I love it,” she said with a sheepish grin. “It was a very thoughtful gift.”

“I wanted you to have a garment for swimming if you so wished. I want you to be comfortable during your time here, Mudiwa, however brief it may be.”

His voice wavered on those last words and his eyelids lowered over darting eyes. Mudiwa turned to face him, her hands folded tightly in front of her as her heart expanded in her chest. She couldn’t resist bringing her palm up to his cheek. The rough stubble lining his jaw tickled her skin as Isaac raised his head to look at her.

“I am grateful, Isaac. I will never forget what you have done for me.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his cheek more fully against her hand. A trembled wracked his body as he stepped closer to her, so close that their bodies were nearly touching.

“Femi says that I am growing too accustomed to your presence. He thinks that I am using you to fill the void left by an unhappy life.”

Mudiwa’s eyebrows furrowed together as she studied his face. It mirrored her own confusion and agony.

“Is that true?”

He opened his eyes. “If it is then how will I ever get along once you’re gone?”

“But you have everything,” she argued as her hand slid away from his face and landed at her side.

“What I have is a future I neither asked for nor earned. A legacy built by my father and his father on the backs of slaves. Years and years of harvesting sugar cane and marriage to some spoiled planter’s daughter are in my future. Yes, I am wealthy and yes, I was born privileged. But I would forfeit all of it to be as blissfully happy as Femi and Akoko. Have you ever seen the way they look at each other? I’ve never experienced anything like it and if my life continues on its present course, it is unlikely that I ever will.”

“Never? You’ve never felt any depth of emotion for anyone?”

Mudiwa found that hard to believe. How was it that a man like Isaac, who could have his pick of any woman on the island, was so miserably lonely?

Isaac’s laughter was dry and humorless. “Yes, actually I have. I felt it when I first came into the rose room to find you crying in front of a mirror. I felt it when I took you into my arms and soothed your tears away. I felt it when I heard your story, and learned how very courageous and fiery you are. I felt it that night in the sitting room when we almost kissed and I went to my bed filled with regret that I didn’t touch you and hold you and kiss you when I had the chance.”

He paused, his chest heaving as his breath quickened.

“And I am feeling it right now,” he added, swaying toward her mindlessly.

Mudiwa swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Oh, Isaac.”

It was all she was capable of. His eyes grew sensual and his breath caressed her cheek as he bent toward her, sliding his lips slowly across the line of her jaw.

“This is madness,” he groaned as he buried his face against her neck. His hands shook at his sides but he restrained himself, their only bodily contact his mouth against her throat. “I feel as if I’m living in a dream. Are you some sort of spirit sent to torment me in my sleep, Mudiwa? Will I awaken in an hour to find that your presence in my life has been no more than a fantasy created by my aching heart?”

“I know what it is to feel that way,” she said, her eyes sliding closed as his mouth closed the distance between her jaw and her lips. He paused at the corner of her mouth, lingering there as he inhaled deeply her scent.

“Did you ever wake up from it?” he asked, his lips moving against hers as he spoke.

“I thought I had,” she replied, “but I seem to have lost myself to it again.”

“I am going to kiss you,” he announced as his hands came up to her waist. His mouth still brushed against her cheek and the movement of his kiss against her skin sent an aching thrill through her. “I am going to kiss you so that I can know for myself that this is not some tortuous dream.”

“Yes,” she responded, sinking into his embrace with resignation. There was no more fighting it. Her senses had come alive at his touch and now she knew that she could no longer continue to pull air into her lungs unless he supplied it, so deep was her longing for his kiss.

Time seemed suspended as his mouth closed over hers, until all that existed in that moment was the spray of the salty ocean and the sand beneath their feet and the hot slide of his firm lips over her lush ones and the bold caress of his velvet tongue over hers. She sank into him, molding her supple curves against his rippled body as his arms came around her tight and secure.

Her hands found his neck and she held on tight as desire crashed over her like the roaring tide beyond. It pulled at her until she felt as if she were drowning, overwhelmed by the heady pleasure of Isaac’s caressing mouth and laving tongue. Her body roared to life as glowing embers stoked to a full, raging inferno. Goosebumps rippled along her flesh and a familiar ache spread between her thighs, reminding her of how long it had been since a man’s touch had affected her so.

Her knees buckled and his arms tightened around her. Isaac’s mouth moved over her face, stroking her eyelids, cheeks and the bridge of her nose before closing in on her lips once more. Evidence of his arousal pulsated between them as he lowered his hands to Mudiwa’s hips and ground into her with a ragged sigh.

“We must stop this,” he said between gasps. His fingers gripped the fabric of her sarong tightly, bunching it in his hands as he fought for both air and composure. “If we don’t, I cannot promise that I won’t lay you down in the sand and have my way with you. Anyone could happen upon us here and I couldn’t bear to have your beautiful body exposed to anyone’s gaze but mine.”

The possessiveness of his tone was further punctuated by the hard gleam in his eyes.

“And Mudiwa,” he added as he brought her in for one last kiss, “I fully intend to have my way with you.”

~Chapter 16~

“Tell me about Barony.”

Isaac waited for Mudiwa’s response. It was the only thing keeping him from taking her down to the jungle floor, lifting her sarong up to her waist and driving into her body. After their heated kiss on the beach, he’d suggested they return to the manor. They walked in tense silence for a few minutes before Isaac thought to ask about the place she called home.

Mudiwa smiled, her teeth gleaming brilliantly in the moonlight against her dark skin.

“It’s a wonderful place,” she said as they walked along. He slid his hand into hers and she squeezed his fingers affectionately. “It came as a blessing to me in my darkest hour and I am grateful for it. It is a beautiful land, lush and green and ridged by mountains on either side. The summers are mild and the winters are frigid. During the spring, it rains and rains for weeks, but when it stops the landscape comes alive with bright flowers and green trees. Even after war ravaged our villages for so many years, the spring always brought beauty into our lives. It was easy to maintain hope when living in a place so beautiful.”

“Tell me about your home. Where do you live? While you’re at it, you might explain how a woman came to hold the honor of knighthood.”

Mudiwa laughed. “It was a most surprising circumstance. We fought so tirelessly during the war to keep the people of our land safe. When our lost queen returned and King Serge was crowned, our hope was renewed. With them as our champions we won our country back from the rebels. For our efforts, King Serge rewarded us by lifting the ban on female knights in Barony. My friends and I are the first women to be knighted.”

“Impressive.”

Mudiwa shrugged. “It was an honor to serve.”

“So, you are a titled lady, yes?”

“Yes. King Serge rewarded us with rich estates of our own, but I have yet to inhabit mine. I like being close to my sisters, but I suppose that someday I’ll go there. Over time, when everyone has married or become too old or battered to fight, I suppose we’ll all retire to our estates and live in peace.”

“And how do you see your future there?” he asked, his stomach turning violently at the thought of Mudiwa settling into her sprawling mansion with a doting husband that was not him.

She released his hand as they cleared the overgrown jungle and came into view of Prideux. He grasped her arm to halt her progress.

“Tell me,” he asked gently.

She lowered her eyes. “I used to wonder if I would grow old alone, pining for a dead man.”

“And now?”

“Now, I am not so sure I won’t spend my time pining for a living one.”

Isaac felt both hope and despair tearing through him at her honesty. He pulled her against his body again and pressed his lips to hers.

“You could stay,” he said, his voice a murmured plea. “You don’t have to leave.”

In response, she kissed him back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she leaned into him. When she pulled away, Isaac saw sadness in her dark eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“Yes,” he said, his hands gripping her arms and tightening in a savagely possessive hold. “Yes, I do know Mudiwa. For the first time in my life I am thinking clearly.”

“And what of Genevieve?”

“What of her? She is no more to me than any other woman on this island.”

“I heard rumor of an engagement.”

“There is no engagement, only the hope of two families that an alliance will be made and lands and wealth combined. I once thought myself prepared to take Genevieve Broussard for a wife, but that was when I had resigned my life to simple contentment. That was before I knew that I could feel such a rush of heat in my veins at the mere sight of you, that my soul could yearn so strongly for another.”

“Isaac...”

He kissed her again, desperately, clinging to her as he bared his soul. “Please, do not try to tell me what it is that I want. I have never been so sure of anything in my life and both my brother and Femi have tried to tell me otherwise. I know what I want. I want you Mudiwa. I want to take you up to my chambers and strip you naked and plunder your flesh. I want to do it again and again until the sun rises and then I want to take you to the safe in my study and remove the family jewels. I want to slip my grandmother’s ring onto your finger and march you to my parents and declare my intentions proudly. I want to make you the mistress of Prideux.”

Even as he said the words, his heart was breaking because he knew that it could never be. Even if she agreed to marry him, those on the island that could never understand their love would make her life miserable. But just for this one moment, Isaac wanted to revel in his own selfishness. He needed to pretend that the only thing standing between he and Mudiwa’s wedded bliss was her confirmation.

Her eyes said it all as she backed away and slipped from his grasp. Tears rimmed the dark orbs as she shook her head. His very soul felt ripped in two as she took another step away from him and then another.

“You think you want those things,” she said with a barely contained sob, “but you would soon come to resent me for the misery that our love would bring.”

“Mudiwa, no.”

“Yes Isaac! You say that you have never loved, but I have and that love was as impossible as ours would be. I was selfish once and it cost a man his life. I could never be so selfish again and risk bringing you shame.”

“Never.”

Mudiwa’s smile was wobbly and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “You say that now but in time things would change. I could never fit into this world you live in. If you were to think on it for a time, you would come to see it too. It could never be Isaac. They wouldn’t let us be.”

Isaac knew the truth of her words but still his heart rebelled. “Then give me something to hold on to, I beg you. One night in your arms to sustain me after you have gone.”

He was closing the distance between them, his palms tingling to touch her again as he reached for her. Isaac watched indecision war with desire in her eyes as he brought her to him for another soul searing kiss.

“Isaac,” she whispered as he nibbled at her decadent lips.

“Yes, mon amour, surrender to me. It is no use fighting when I know how badly you want this. It is the same for me, this internal fire. You are the only one that can ease this ache growing within me. So yes, whisper my name, cry it out in ecstasy while I love you. It will be like music to my ears.”

She pulled away and gazed up at him. “Come with me.”

Isaac obeyed, taking her hand and trailing after her toward the servant’s entrance at the side of the manor. He was thankful for her thoughtful discretion. Isaac had been so consumed with hunger for her that he would never have thought to avoid the prying eyes of his family members by using the servant’s entrance. At this hour, everyone was abed and Isaac was grateful to find the corridors empty. He released Mudiwa’s hand as they climbed the final flight of stairs to the guest wing of the house, content to watch the hypnotic sway of her hips as they ascended. When at last they reached the door to her room, Isaac grasped her around the waist and pulled her back against him as he reached for the  knob. He kicked the door shut behind them, glad that she’d left a few lamps burning. The soft yellow glow that filled the room was just bright enough for them to see each other.

Isaac’s hand slid around her waist and came to rest on her stomach. His other hand gripped the fabric of her sarong. Pulling slowly, he watching the progress of the fabric over her thighs in the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Isaac shuddered at the erotic sight of her bare skin as he paused at her hip.

“Do you remember the day I came into this room and found you sobbing in front of this mirror?”

She nodded, but the only sound from her lips was her harsh and labored breathing. The hand on her stomach moved up over the soft mounds of her breasts and back down again.

“I told you that you were beautiful and I meant it. Do you have any idea how magnificent you are?”

Mudiwa lowered her eyes, but Isaac raised his free hand to her chin and pushed gently until she was forced to confront her own reflection. Their eyes met in the mirror and Isaac released the fabric from her body with an expert flick of his wrist. Blood rushed to his loins, hot and fast as he found her naked underneath.

She was more than he’d imagined, the fulfillment of every vivid thought he’d had since first meeting her. Her breasts were full, high and proud, the dark peaks tightening to hardened nubs as he ran his hands over them. His hands traveled down over the smooth skin of her belly before finding perfectly flared hips. She moaned as he cupped the soft feminine mound between her thighs. His other hand found her throat and circled it gently, bringing her head back to rest against his shoulder as he dipped into the sweet, secret cavern at his fingertips.

“Dieu dans le ciel, you are like silk to my fingers,” he whispered as he slipped his digits into the moistened slit between her outer folds. Her legs buckled but he held fast, teasing the sensitive bud at his fingertip as he watched her face through the mirror. Her eyes closed, lips parted and head thrown back in ecstasy, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. When her cries increased and her hips bucked against his hand, he knew that her culmination was near. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and watched, fascinated by the sight of her quaking in his arms and trembling against him as her sheath tightened and pulsated around his thrusting fingers.

She slumped against him and gasped for air as the spasms of her climax died away to a dull and languid throb. Isaac held her steady, his own body screaming for release as his erection strained against the front of his trousers. He waited patiently for her to climb back down from heaven as he ran his hands up her body and back down again, memorizing the hills and valleys of her form.

“Ma déesse, I have only just begun to pleasure you,” he murmured as he turned her toward the bed. His body never broke contact with hers as he moved her toward the bed. Somehow, he managed to kick off his boots and pull his shirt off over his head in the span of a few seconds before laying her gently across the rose-printed duvet on her stomach. He quickly unbuckled his trousers and left them on the floor before climbing onto the bed with her.

He stretched his body over hers, sighing contentedly as his chest came down over her back and the raging length of his arousal nestled against her rounded bottom. He clasped her hands with his and spread her arms out wide, entwining his fingers with hers as he nibbled at the shell of her ear.

“Tonight I will love you every way I can, mon bien-aimé. By morning you will not have a single regret.”

His hands released hers as he sat up to straddle her hips. He traced the path of her spine with his fingertips before gripping her hip with one hand and angling the head of his sex toward the cleft between her legs with the other. Issac watched with savage satisfaction as it disappeared within her and his chest rumbled with a low groan as he felt her molten heat enveloping him inch by slow inch. When he’d pierced her to the hilt, he lowered his body back over hers and wrapped his arms around her, bracing most of his weight on his elbows to keep from hurting her.

She gasped as he withdrew and plunged forward in one smooth motion, sending ripples of pleasure from his body into the far reaches of hers. Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and felt a stirring like no other within him as he loved her with aching slowness. While the leisurely glide of his body against hers and the achingly sweet torment of her tight and love-dampened sheath around him felt like pleasure unparalleled, the gratification he felt in the depths of his spirit were far beyond anything physical. As she moaned and sighed his name while clawing at the blankets, he loved her as he had never loved any woman before. As he whispered words of adoration into her ear and brought her to completion for a second time before turning her onto her back and entering her once more, he vowed to make the most of what he’d been given. As he wrapped her legs around his waist and entered her again, seconds from his own perfect ending, he vowed to sear every second of this night into his memory, for there it would have to live forever once the sun began its slow descent over the horizon.

Mudiwa nestled against Isaac’s side and placed her head on his chest. Her fingers explored the flat planes of his chest before slipping down to the rippling hills and valleys of his abdomen. His muscles jerked beneath her hand and he grasped her wrist tightly.

“You will cease this minute unless you wish to find yourself under me again, ma chère.”

Mirth bubbled up from his chest and Mudiwa joined him with a chuckle of her own.

“You say that as if I do not already wish for it.”

Isaac brushed a wavy lock of hair back from his face and grinned as he turned to his side and enveloped her in his arms. Mudiwa turned her body toward his and they lay together, their bare bodies tangled as one.

“You must have some rest tonight,” he said sternly. “Tomorrow we journey into St. Pierre together to find your friends.”

Mudiwa lowered her eyes to where his pulse fluttered against his throat. After the blissful night they’d just shared—Isaac had fulfilled his promise to make love to her in just about every way he could think of—she did not want to think of morning. Mudiwa clung to him instead and listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“When we made love the first time, you called me mon bien-aimé.”

He smiled down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “It means ‘my beloved’.”

Mudiwa nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “I know. It is also what my name translates to in my native tongue.”

Isaac’s eyes suddenly grew serious. “Why are you crying? Is it painful to be reminded of home?”

She shook her head. “No, it is just that he used to call me that. It’s been so long since someone has said something like that to me, or made me feel so…” She trailed off, unsure of how to put into words what she was trying to say, but Isaac understood.

“It is my pleasure to make you feel cherished, mon bien-aimé. I called you that because it is what I feel for you. It is what you are to me.”

Mudiwa glanced at the window over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of morning’s first light. She closed her eyes and willed it away, but the sky outside was becoming bluer by the second. Soon, their cocoon of love and passion would be shattered and Mudiwa would have to give him up. The thought was more than she could bear.

Isaac used his thumb to brush a tear away from the corner of her eye before turning her to her back.

“One last time mon bien-aimé,” he said as he covered her mouth with his.

Isaac left Mudiwa sleeping in her chambers and closed the door soundlessly. Once alone in the hallway, he leaned against the door and exhaled, a long, slow breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Isaac asked her for one night and hoped that it would be enough. He’d asked her not knowing that morning would come entirely too soon. Though he’d been with her several times during the night, his body was already aching for her again. As he moved on down the hallway toward the stairs, he found that every step further away from her only prounounced his longing.

How much worse would it be when she was gone? Isaac had every intention of finding her friends this day and knew that they would most likely want to sail immediately for home. Mudiwa would not be with him much longer and would soon be no more than a very fond memory. Perhaps, he thought, when life became too miserable and he felt as if he would die from the monotony of it, he could pull on his memories of last night. How could he ever forget the feel of her, the smell and taste of her or her naked skin glistening darkly in the moonlight?

His thoughts were interrupted as he skidded to a stop to avoid Hortense, who was dressed in a morning gown of soft lavender and arranging a bouquet of flowers on the large entryway table.

“Good Lord, son. You startled me!”

She took one look at him in his rumpled, disheveled clothing and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “You have been out all night?” she queried.

Isaac ran a hand over the thick stubble dotting his jaw line and shrugged. He did not respond and his mother’s eyes widened as she realized that he had not come from outside, but down the eastern staircase. She shook her head and her mouth disappeared into a white line of disapproval.

“Please, tell me you have not done what I think you have done and with your intended invited to breakfast this morning, no less!”

Isaac frowned. “I was not aware that Genevieve had been invited to breakfast as you rarely find the time to inform me of your plans once you have made them. And she is not my intended. Everyone seems to have forgotten that I have not asked her or anyone else for that matter, to marry me and don’t intend to until I’m good and damned ready!”

Hortense pressed on hand to her bosom and gasped. “Such language and disrespect for your Maman!”

Isaac sighed, deflating rapidly as the air rushed from his chest. As much as her meddling infuriated him, he loved her and she knew just how to pour the guilt over his head when she needed to.

“Forgive me, Maman. Has she arrived yet?”

“No, thank the Lord. You have time to wash up and change. And, Isaac?”

Isaac paused at the foot of western staircase and turned back.

“We will talk later of your indiscretion, yes?”

Ignoring her, Isaac fled to the wing of the manor he shared with his brother and retreated to his room. Once alone, he sank down onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. Breakfast with Genevieve after the night he’d had with Mudiwa would be hell. All it would do was serve as a reminder of what his future would be without the woman he’d come to love.

Again, his wandering mind was snatched back to the present as a maid entered his room after a sharp knock. Isaac had never seen her before and while his mother was constantly bringing on new servants, this woman was not the typical housemaid. She did not have the look of the other island’s Chinese inhabitants, but the similarities were glaring. Her skin was milky white and smooth, her eyes narrow and lips pouting. She was one of the smallest women he’d ever seen, no higher than his chest and with a reed-slender, boyish figure.

She was dressed in a madras jupe skirt, blouse and matching headscarf like any other servant, but Isaac detected none of the humility and subservience normally present in the eyes of a maid. In fact, everything about this woman screamed superiority and refinement. Much like someone else he knew.

Isaac did not have much time to assess her further before she was across the room with a knife to his throat. The two wrestled for a bit before the tiny woman—she was strong as an ox—had him pinned to the ground with one foot to his throat and the dagger pressed to his ribs. Isaac raised his eyebrows and held his hands out in a gesture of surrender.

“You must be a friend of Mudiwa’s.”

At the sound of the familiar name, the girl’s mouth fell open and her black eyes lit up pleasantly.

“You have not harmed her?”

Isaac chuckled. “She has lived in relative luxury since coming here, if you must know. I can take you to her if you like, although you will first have to remove the knife from my ribs.”

At least the woman had the grace to blush. She stood and offered him a hand up. Isaac brushed a hand over his rumpled shirt and extended a hand to the intruder.

“Isaac Prideux IV, at your service.”

A smile pulled at the corner of the girl’s face. “Lady Hanako Kiyomi. I’m sorry for attacking you, but I had to know what kind of person had found Mudiwa. After all that we have been through and heard we had no way of knowing if she was safe here nor not.”

“We?”

“My friends are at an Inn in St. Pierre, waiting for me to report my findings to them. I was only supposed to come and gather reconnaissance, but once I’d found you I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to find Mudiwa.”

Isaac nodded. “I understand. If you’ll allow me to change I will take you to her immediately.”

Isaac threw open the doors of his armoire and pulled out a pair of plain trousers and a linen shirt. Breakfast with Genevieve would have to be missed and Isaac couldn’t pretend to be remorseful. He dressed hurriedly, throwing a brown waistcoat on over his shirt and not bothering with a necktie. Isaac shoved his feet into a pair of boots and ducked from behind the privacy screen to find Hanako waiting patiently by one of the windows.

He opened the door and ushered her back down the hall and down to the front hall before moving toward the opposite staircase leading up to the guest wing of the house. He muffled a curse at finding Genevieve framed in the doorway, embracing his mother.

“Ma chère!” she cried in her high-pitched voice. Isaac winced as the sound grated against his nerves. “How lovely to see you this morning.”

He stopped long enough to kiss Genevieve’s hand and offer explanations to his mother.

“What do you mean you cannot attend breakfast?”

Hortense was horrified as she glanced back and forth between him and Hanako.

“Mother, it is very important that Mudiwa know her friends have found her. They have been searching endlessly for her and should not be kept waiting any longer.”

“Let one of your servants tend to the matter,” Genevieve whined with a disparaging glance in Hanako’s direction. “I am certain that they cannot muck the task up too badly.”

Isaac clenched his jaw and focused all of his energy on not wringing the annoying girl’s neck.

“I will see you this afternoon for lunch Maman,” he said to Hortense. “I promise.”

With a swift kiss on the cheek, Isaac was breezing through the hall with a silent Hanako on his heels.

~Chapter 15~

Mudiwa felt tears of joy welling up in her eyes as her gaze darted from Hanako to Ava to Nell. After being reunited with Hanako hours earlier, Isaac accompanied the two women into St. Pierre to the inn where her friends had been staying during their search for her. They sat now in the inn’s dining room, untouched mugs of ale in front of them as the details of their separation were spilled forth.

Mudiwa appraised the two men accompanying her friends with curiosity. It would seem that she was not the only one who’d fallen in love. Even Ava, her usually stalwart captain, seemed softened by tender feelings as she entwined her fingers with those of the large man seated next to her. When she’d commented on their matching gold rings, her friend had excitedly announced her recent marriage and Nell’s unofficial engagement.

Nell’s cheeks burned a deep shade of crimson as the red-haired man at her side kissed her affectionately. Mudiwa could hardly believe her eyes. With the exception of Hanako’s dignified silence, a lot of things had changed in her absence. As she felt Isaac shifting at her side, she knew that they had changed with her as well.

Her friends were all very curious about Isaac Prideux, but no one asked any prying questions in his presence though Hanako’s sharp gaze continually assessed them both as if able to discern just what had happened between them.

At the memory, Mudiwa felt her face growing as hot as Nell’s and her heart fluttered against her breast. She tried to focus on the matter at hand, ferreting Dorian Blake out of hiding, but found it nearly impossible to concentrate when Isaac’s thigh was pressed so intimately against hers and his fingertips grazed her bare arm constantly. She didn’t know if he was aware of what he was doing to her. When she glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead, stone-faced and silent.

Could the same maelstrom of feeling that raged within her be boiling in his blood as well? Was he as devastated at the thought of her leaving Martinique forever as she was?

“I say we forget about Blake and depart from this God-forsaken island as soon as humanly possible,” interjected Julian at Ava’s suggestion that they comb the city for the kidnapper. “No offense,” he added with a nod toward Isaac.

“None taken,” Isaac said with a shrug. “I must say I agree with your logic.”

Ava shot both men a murderous glare. “Are you suggesting that we allow the bastard to get away with what he’s done, that we turn the other way while he continues kidnapping, raping and selling innocent women?”

Julian’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “You and Mudiwa have already been in grave danger,” he said with a calmness belying his turbulent expression. “We lost her, but she’s found and so are the other missing women. We are fortunate to have recovered that much. Swallow your pride over having lost him and let’s return home. I am sure Queen Isabelle is sick with anxiety by now.”

“There is no need to worry about that,” Nell said, glancing back and forth between Ava and Julian. “I wrote a letter a few days ago and sent it off on a packet ship. I assured her that we had located Mudiwa and would be returning as soon as we could arrange it. It will take weeks for her to receive it, but it’s better than nothing.”

“See?” Ava said with a smug grin. “That will buy us some time.”

“No,” Julian snapped, “it does not. In case you have forgotten, your life is now bound to mine. I will not lose you because you’ve decided to put yourself in danger.”

“God save me from overbearing husbands,” Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Why don’t we just question Dolly again? She’s stewing in The Triton’s brig and is no doubt more than ready to talk.”

“Who is Dolly?” Mudiwa asked.

“Blake’s twin sister,” Ava supplied. “Do you remember the woman we tried to exchange for you that night on the dock? We apprehended her at the inn Blake had been staying in when you were captured.”

Mudiwa rolled her eyes. “The woman with the brightly dyed red hair? Yes, I remember her. I didn’t know that she was Dorian’s twin, though.”

Isaac drew in a sharp breath and stiffened, his hand clamping down on her arm in a vice-like grip. Mudiwa winced from the pain but was even more overwhelmed by the recognition dawning in Isaac’s eyes. He turned them on her, his jaw working furiously as he struggled with whatever memory had assailed him.

“Mon Dieu, I know of whom you speak!”

“You do?”

Isaac nodded, his expression grim. “I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection before. The man of whom you speak is known to me by another name and perhaps even known to you. Are you familiar with a Lord Andrew Forsyth?”

Ava seemed to think for a minute and then shook her head slowly. Mudiwa shrugged. Nell rubbed her chin.

“Should we be?”

“He is a member of Barony’s royal court.”

“If you’ll think for a moment you should recall the name,” Hanako’s soft voice interrupted. “We have all heard of him.”

“From where?”

“Of course all of what I’m about to remind you of was overshadowed by the climax of the war and our victory at Guthrie Hall, but do none of you remember the search for Queen Esmeralda’s missing cousin?”

Ava nodded. “Of course. Right before the rebels stormed the castle, she disappeared with her lover and left a note stating that they had eloped. A few months later she reappeared after the groom had abandoned her in Ulas.”

Hanako nodded. “Yes, and do you now remember the name of said groom?”

Nell gasped. “No! It can’t be! Could it be the same Lord Andrew that eloped with Tatiana?”

Hanako shrugged. “He is a member of the court and if I remember correctly, Queen Isabelle once said something about him being in possession of a ship. They worried at first that he’d taken her out of the country and were relieved to have found her still in Barony.”

Mudiwa turned to Isaac. “How can you be sure that it is the same man?”

“It wasn’t until you mentioned a twin sister,” Isaac said. “And then I also remembered an encounter with Lord Forsyth just a few days ago.”

“You’d better start from the beginning, man,” Julian said, his eyebrows furrowing together over black eyes. “Tell us everything.”

“Well, the Forsyths are a well known family on the island. Their plantation, Le Grove, is only a few miles from Prideux. We are of an age and my brother, Albert, and I used to play with him as children. He was a sullen and angry child and often violent and abusive toward his twin sister, Annette. Despite his treatment, the two were unnaturally close and even after the other children refused to keep his company because of his abusive tendencies, Annette remained ever by his side. They were quite a pair, one never without the other. After rumors began of an inappropriate and incestuous affair between the two, she took to traveling with him on board his ship, The Raven. The two were frequently gone on voyages to other ports and even though there were rumors of Forsyth’s dealings in human flesh, everyone just attributed it to his background.”

“What about his background?” Ava questioned.

“Well, their mother is an American and so their entire family is looked upon with scorn by the French inhabitants of the island. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that Forsyth’s grandfather on his mother’s side held a title in Barony that was passed down to him.”

“Can it be the same man?” Mudiwa asked. “It sounds as if someone has been leading a double life; planter and merchant by day and kidnapping peddler of human flesh by night.”

“It has to be him,” Isaac insisted. “Annette dresses like a brothel Madame and has been coloring her hair an unnatural shade of red for over a decade.”

“That’s her all right,” said Julian.

“And you had a run-in with this man recently?” Ava asked, her hands balling into fists on the table top. “Tell me everything.”

“My plantation overseer and I were having lunch at an outdoor café not a mile from here. He approached me after overhearing a conversation between us concerning Mudiwa. He told me of his connection to Barony and informed me that he knew of the famous Lady Akua, knight of the province. He offered…”

Isaac paused, his face going a mottled shade of red as his nostrils flared in anger. “He offered safe passage to Mudiwa to Barony in one week’s time.”

His fist came down onto the table, vibrating the ale Mudiwa’s pewter mug.

“Merde!” he cursed. “That son of a bitch was trying to trick me into turning you over to him.”

He turned to her and grasped her face gently in his hand, seemingly heedless of those around them. Isaac ran his thumb over the last of the bruising around her eye, which was now just a tinge yellow and beginning to disappear.

“He did this to you, that black-hearted bastard, I’ll kill him!”

“Not if I get to him first,” Ava said, reminding the two that they were not alone. Mudiwa ripped her eyes away from Isaac’s and reluctantly pulled away from his grasp.

“What will we do?”

Ava turned to Isaac. “You are going to tell us where he lives and we are going after him.”

Julian stiffened beside her. “That’s your plan? Look around you Ava. We are not in Barony. You cannot just go traipsing up to someone’s plantation intending to kill him!”

“I will not allow him to get away with this!” she roared. “I am going after him and, so help me, I will make him pay!”

“No,” Isaac said gently, placing one hand firmly over Ava’s on the table.

She stabbed him with her silvery gaze. “You do not know me well enough to understand this, but I do not take well to that word.”

Isaac smiled. It was not a joyful or humorous expression. The glint in his eyes was dangerous.

“What I mean to say is this. No, we will not go to him. A man like Blake must be manipulated carefully into a trap. We will allow him to come to us.”

****

Hortense Prideux patted the shoulder of the girl she’d hoped would become her daughter-in-law and tried futilely to comfort her. Genevieve sobbed into a white lace-edged handkerchief, her shoulders shaking with grief.

Hortense could sympathize with the girl who pined for her son’s affections. She’d experienced similar turmoil at the hands of her husband for years before he’d finally broken down and proposed to her. With that proposal had come the fulfillment of her every dream and now she was in a position to do the same for the poor girl crying on her shoulder.

If only her son would cooperate.

She didn’t know what Isaac could be thinking, chasing around behind some strange and mysterious African girl, but she did know that someone had to put a stop to it. What would their neighbors and acquaintances think if they were to catch wind of this? They would be ostracized and her social standing would be ruined, her reputation besmirched.

Determination filled her as she patted the girl’s hand and stood.

“Come Genevieve, it is not so bad. He will come around.”

“I fear that I will lose him to that black whore!” Genevieve sniveled with a fresh wave of tears. “She seeks to steal him from me and make herself mistress of Prideux, the grasping little witch!”

Her mouth a firm line, Hortense took Genevieve’s hand and pulled the girl to her feet.

“Non, not while I can help it. Come with me.”

The two moved swiftly from the dining room and down the corridor until they’d reached the door of Isaac’s study. They found the door blessedly unlocked and slipped inside undetected. Hortense prayed that her son would not return early from St. Pierre. She slipped over to the secret panel she knew concealed the wall safe guarding the Prideux family jewels.

Hortense knew the combination—it hadn’t been changed since this study became Isaac’s—and had the safe open within seconds. She moved around a few heavy cedar, velvet lined boxes before finding the one she’d been searching for. She removed the small ring box before closing the safe and securing the wall panel once again.

Genevieve covered her mouth and gasped into her palm as Hortense opened the box and removed a large, solitary diamond flanked by rubies set in a gold band and held it out to her.

“This was Isaac’s grandmother’s ring. I have always known that it was meant for you to have,” she said with a secretive smile.

“Oh Madame, I cannot!” Genevieve cried, even as her eyes widened at the dazzling sight of the ring.

“You can and you must, ma fille.”

“But—“

“No, no child, no buts! In three days’ time, all of Martinique’s high society will be in my ballroom to hear of your and Isaac’s engagement. Do you understand?”

Genevieve’s fingers closed around the ring and she grinned. “Oui.”

~Chapter 16~

Isaac’s eyes darted from face to face as he tried to find his prey in the ocean of partygoers gathered in the ballroom at Prideux. It seemed that the entire French population on the island had turned out for his father’s birthday celebration.

He glanced over at the old man, leaning heavily on his cane and smiling for once as he greeted guests and directed gifts to the appropriate table. That he’d made it to sixty-nine was a miracle, but Isaac had always been of the opinion that the meaner a person was, the longer they tended to live, as if their bitterness was the only thing keeping them afloat.

He ignored the prying eyes of his parents’ friends, knowing that the stunning woman on his arm was the cause of their perusal. Their expression ranged from admiration, to shock, to blatant outrage at the sight of Mudiwa dressed at the height of French fashion and holding onto his arm as if for dear life.

Even if her appearance at the ball hadn’t been part of the plan to trap Lord Forsyth, Isaac would have wanted her by his side. In her ball gown of deep, bronze silk, she was like a heavenly vision, her short curls framing her face and adorned with tiny seed pearls. He patted her hand to reassure her and focused his mind back on finding Forsyth.

The attention was what he’d wanted, not just on himself but on his other visitors from Barony as well. He’d made certain that word of his ‘special guests’ had made the gossip rounds, ensuring that Forsyth would hear. They were banking on his obsession with Ava to secure his attendance, though so far they had seen neither hide nor hair of the man.

He spotted Ava, standing alone in the center of a group of women who were questioning her about her gown. They’d barely had time to find and have altered suitable attire for all four of the ladies on short notice, but Isaac had spared no expense at ensuring that they would fit in at the ball. Ava’s gown was the most daring and showcased her bosom to perfection as well as a great deal of her sculpted back. Isaac could feel discomfort radiating from her as she tried to cover the displayed skin of her cleavage with a painted fan.

“She is more comfortable toting an axe or shooting a bow,” Mudiwa murmured as they took another turn about the room.

“She certainly doesn’t seem accustomed to the interest.”

Mudiwa laughed. “She is used to praise over her skills on the battlefield, not her gown or her hairstyle. Her husband does not seem happy about all of the probing eyes either.”

Isaac smirked as he spotted Julian, who circled the ballroom like a hawk, his eyes never leaving Ava. His stony countenance said it all; his wife’s display of skin in public set him on edge.

“What about you? How do you feel?”

Mudiwa smiled at him and squeezed his arm. “Like I’m in a museum on display.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. That she shivered as his mouth moved against her skin sent a thrill through him.

“That is because you look like a goddess,” he whispered. “They cannot help but stare.”

Her expression as well as her tone grew serious. “Isaac, you promised.”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I? A very foolish pledge to make, only giving in to my desire for you for one night. I should have made you grant me one thousand.”

“I do not promise things that I cannot give.”

Just then, Albert appeared at his side. He cleared his throat and nodded to Mudiwa politely before turning to him.

“Maman is looking for you,” he said. “She claims that it is very important.”

Isaac rolled her eyes. “Can it not wait?”

“She says that it is urgent. You should come see what the trouble is. Genevieve is with her and they both look like cats cornering a canary. It can’t be good.”

Isaac heaved an exasperated sigh and turned to Mudiwa. “Will you excuse me? Don’t move from this spot.”

She nodded but Isaac was already moving through the crush, toward the raised dais where his mother stood with a preening Genevieve at her side.

“Maman, I demand you tell me what is going on this instant!” Isaac hissed as his mother called for the attention of their guests.

Hortense grasped his arm and propelled him closer to Genevieve, who stood between his parents grinning like a satisfied pussycat. His father leaned on his cane, a twinkle in his eye that could only mean trouble. Before Isaac could even attempt to figure out what was happening, silence fell over the ballroom and every eye turned toward them.

He found Mudiwa’s face in the crowd and focused on it, trying not to lose her. As soon as his mother finished whatever it was she was doing, he would get back to Mudiwa and the business of locating Andrew Forsyth/Dorian Blake.

“Friends and honored guests,” Hortense began in her dramatic way, “I am so thrilled to invite you here this evening to celebrate my dear husbands seventy-ninth birthday. He is as spry and handsome as ever, n-est il pas?”

The attendees responded with polite applause and laughter. Isaac Prideux III pretended modesty with a smile and small nod. Hortense continued.

“But tonight is in honor of another blessed occasion. I am just so elated to be able to announce this happy news on such a special night. It is my honor to announce that my son, Isaac, has asked the beautiful Genevieve Broussard for her hand in marriage and she has graciously accepted.”

Isaac felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him and he felt panic gripping him as his eyes darted from his father to his mother and finally resting on Genevieve who was smiling and coming forward to take his arm.

“Smile,” she hissed as she leaned in to kiss his check before hooking her arm through his and waving to the cheering, whistling crowd.

Numb, Isaac’s eyes locked with Mudiwa’s from across the room and dread coiled in his gut as he witnessed the tears there. Her jaw clenched defiantly and her bare shoulders squared resolutely as she raised her chin a few inches. Part of him admired her for her strength; the other part wanted to strike the look of agony from her eyes by taking her into his arms.

He glanced down at Genevieve in revulsion, finally noticing the diamond and ruby ring on her delicate finger.

“Where in blazes did you get that?” he asked, his mind still a chaotic whirl of thoughts.

“Your Maman assured me that all you needed was a little push,” Genevieve replied, her lower lip going into a pout. “She was right, oui? This was going to happen eventually Isaac. We just thought you might need help moving things along.”

“Bitch!”

The word exploded from his mouth, uncontrolled. Silence fell over the crowd and his mother recoiled in horror. His father stepped forward and jabbed at Isaac’s foot with his cane.

“Have more respect for your fiancé, eh?”

He grasped Genevieve’s wrist brutally and raised her hand up to his gaze, inspecting the ring with a red haze of fury ringing his vision.

“Where. Did. You. Get. This?”

Genevieve’s nostrils flared and hers flashed defiantly. “Your Maman. It is meant for me, Isaac. I know it and so does everyone here. Do you honestly think that you can make that putain de gouttière your bride? You are even more deluded than I thought!”

Isaac’s fingers itched to wrap around her throat at the insult to Mudiwa, but he held his anger in check. He plucked the ring from her finger and threw the offending limb away from him as if it had burned him.

“Any hope that you ever had of becoming my bride has just been thrown away. I want you out of my sight this instant,” he growled, towering over her menacingly. “For all your finery and riches, Genevieve, you could never compare to the one I truly love.”

Hortense gasped and strode forward, shoving the shocked girl out of her way. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as those who were closest to the dais spread what little they could hear of the whispered conversation.

“Isaac Arnaud Prideux IV, what on earth has gotten into you? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No Maman, but you seen to have. What could you have been thinking?”

“You should be thanking me,” she sobbed. “I am saving you from making a very grave mistake. That…that woman is not right for you!”

Isaac shook his head, disbelief clawing at him at the thought of what his mother had just done. He swiveled to search the crowd again and found Albert, staring with disbelief, Ava and Julian shaking their heads in confusion, and Mudiwa…

Gone.

“Stay out of my affairs,” he said from between clenched teeth before stepping down off the dais. He waved away nosy neighbors who rushed forward to question him about what they’d just seen. Let them gossip. All that mattered right now was getting to Mudiwa and assuring her that he’d known nothing of his mother’s plans. He didn’t know how long she’d stayed after his mother’s little announcement and, worse than that, didn’t know where she had gone.

Albert met him at the edge of the crowd, a wide-eyed Sabine at his side.

“What was that all about?”

Isaac shook his head, panic expanding in his throat as he frantically searched for Mudiwa to no avail. Every door lining the ballroom had been thrown open to let in the cool night air and she could have disappeared through any one of them. The terrace, the garden, a pathway leading to the conservatory…all were possibilities and for the life of him Isaac couldn’t decide which to check first.

Ava, Hanako, Nell, Julian, and Simon were all beside him in a flash, their eyes filled with concern. Ava grasped his arm and glared at him, the protectiveness clear in her stance.

“I don’t know what just happened here, but if you’ve hurt my friend...”

Julian came between them and grasped his spitfire wife by the arm firmly. “Settle down Ava. We don’t know what’s going on here and really, it’s none of our affair. Finding Mudiwa is more important right now, as is finding Blake.”

“Right,” said the lady soldier, shooting Isaac another narrowed glare. “We should split up.”

“Did you see where she went?” Isaac asked Albert and Sabine.

Both shook their heads and shrugged.

“No but she was pretty shaken by that announcement,” Sabine said gently, her lower lip trembling. “I’m so sorry Isaac. I had no idea.”

Isaac gave Sabine a small smile and patted her hand. The differences between the two sisters couldn’t be more obvious and Isaac would never think to punish one for the sins of the other.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s split up,” he said to the group. “Ava and Julian should stay to look for Forsyth. Albert and I will go to the garden. Nell, you and Simon go through that door over there to the conservatory. Sabine, you take Hanako and take the terrace around the entire perimeter of the house. She couldn’t have gone far that fast.”

No one questioned him and the group peeled off, each duo going into the commanded direction. Isaac could hear Sabine asking Hanako to be filled in on missing details and grimaced when Albert turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Care to tell me what else has been going on?”

Isaac sighed as they headed through the double doors to the path leading down to the lush garden. “It’s a long story.”

Mudiwa sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands, grief crippling her and blinding her eyes with tears. While she had every intention of boarding The Triton in two days’ time and leaving Isaac and Martinique behind, she hadn’t expected to witness his engagement to another woman. It was selfish of her, but while here, she had wanted to be able to think of him as hers and hers alone. Now she would have to endure the long journey back to Barony while thinking of Isaac marrying another woman.

She should have stayed, she knew. Even if Isaac had betrayed her, there was still Blake to worry about. She should not have left the ballroom without telling someone where she was going, or ensuring that he had not yet arrived first. Mudiwa knew all of these things logically, but her heart craved solace in solitude. She needed a few moments alone to nurse her wounded pride and hurt feelings. Just a few moments to banish the tears from her eyes and she could return to the ballroom with her head held high.

She’d just finished dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her dress, when she heard footsteps crunching over the ground toward her. Mudiwa shot to her feet, squaring her shoulders as she prepared herself to come face to face with Isaac.

Instead, four men unknown to her came staggering around the corner. They came up short, swaying drunkenly on their feet as they paused to rake her body with their wandering eyes.

“What have we here?” one of them murmured in French. “Prideux’s little plaything, out here all alone?”

“What’s the matter love?” the second man asked with a smile. “Feeling a little sad over your lover’s engagement? Well, my boys and I have got just the thing to cure an ailing heart.”

Mudiwa felt her teeth grinding and her hands curling into fists as he patted his crotch suggestively, his eyes coming to rest on her décolletage.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned her voice edged with annoyance and fury.

Those men on Blake’s ship had overpowered her, but the memory of their hands on her body and their foul stench on her skin filled her with purpose. As she lifted her skirt, the four men lurched toward her, mistaking her movement for an invitation. What they got instead was a surprise attack as she slid a dagger from the sheath around her thigh and swung it at them in a precise arc.

She caught one across his abdomen before slashing upward to slice another one across the cheek. Foul curses filled the garden as they renewed their efforts, one of them tackling her to the ground. As he fumbled with her skirts, she clenched her legs around his neck and imprisoned him before grasping his head in her hands and twisting it until rewarded with a sickening snap. She leaped to her feet and met the fists of the man who’d stomach she’d sliced with a few blows of her own. His fist caught her in the ribs. Hers found his jaw and rendered him unconscious. She leaped over him and onto the third assailant, kicking his legs from under him before finding her dagger again and pressing it to the base of his throat.

Her last two attackers watched her carefully, their breaths quickened and their eyes wide. The one beneath her went still, but the fourth man flitted about nervously, seeming to wait for the right moment to attack.

“How much is your friend’s life worth to you, hmm?” she panted as she pricked the third man’s skin with her knife. “Is it worth trying to come for me? I promise you that before you get your hands on me I will slit his throat and you will join him soon after.”

The fourth man’s eyes grew even wider as his friend pleaded for his life.

“Back away!” he gurgled, pulling ineffectually at Mudiwa’s wrist. She remained unmoved, one knee pressed into his chest and the knife jabbing him in the throat. “Let her go, the little bitch is not worth it!”

His friend back away slowly for a few paces before turning to run. He didn’t get far before he slammed into the chest of the man careening around the corner. Mudiwa cocked her fist back and slammed it in to her final opponents face, leaving him in a bloody heap on the ground before standing. She wiped the end of her dagger on the skirt of her ball gown before re-sheathing it. Mudiwa then lifted her eyes and found Isaac standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

****

“My lady. My heart rejoices at seeing you once again.”

Ava closed the double doors leading to the ballroom behind her, a sinister smile curling at the corner of her mouth. When a burly Frenchman had come and requested that she accompany him from the ballroom, she’d known that Blake would be waiting for her. She followed him without question, motioning for Julian to hang back and follow at a distance. Blake was unstable and sure to react negatively to Julian’s presence. While Ava understood her husband’s need to watch over her, Ava knew that she was more than capable of handling Blake herself.

She followed the large man from the ballroom, glancing over her shoulder once more to ensure that Julian wasn’t getting too close. He hovered silently on the edge of the crowd as she disappeared through the doors, a hard gleam in the onyx depths of his eyes.

Dorian stood but a few yards away from the ballroom doors, dressed in tailcoat and silk knee breeches, his hands clasped behind his back. A feral glint shined in his eyes and the smile on his mouth was animalistic in nature. If he’d pawed the ground and howled at the moon he wouldn’t have surprised her.

“I have come a long way for this,” Ava said as she took a step toward him. “Your list of offenses seems to grow by the day, Blake—or is it Forsyth?”

Dorian shrugged. “Call me what you wish, my love, as long as you know who you truly belong to.”

“Are you mad?” Ava said in disbelief. “How could you think to lay claim to me after all that you’ve done to me and everyone that I hold dear? You will receive nothing from me besides the business end of my sword!”

Dorian’s laughter was sickening. “Do you have any idea how enchanting you are? It’s no wonder your hair and eyes bring to my mind visions of smoke and ash. Your spirit is true fire Ava Longley and I will take great joy in taming you.”

He stepped toward her and Ava recoiled, a snarl flying out from between her clenched teeth. “And what if I were to tell you I’ve already been tamed and by a greater man that you!”

Her words hit the intended mark and Blake flinched, the glee on his face faltering and slowly turning into rage. “I am willing to forgive you for marrying that bastard. Ava, mon feu, you will spend many hours making it up to me.”

Ava grinned, taunting him with her words. “That is what you think. While you try to plunder my body, I will think only of him. You will never have the satisfaction of knowing that I am completely yours. Every time you touch me I will scream his name in ecstasy!”

The last thread of his control snapped and Dorian lunged for her. “Conniving little whore!” he spat as she ducked out of his hold easily.

At the sight of him lunging for his wife and the sound of raised voices, Julian came barreling through the ballroom doors, his ornamental sword drawn and ready.

“No Julian!” Ava barked as she reached for the fastening of her skirt.

When Isaac had taken them to the dressmaker’s shop to purchase attire for the evening, Ava had specifically requested an ensemble with separate pieces. Beneath the skirt were her breeches and as she whipped the skirt aside she found freedom from the restrictive garment. She kicked off her flimsy formal slippers and reached out to Julian for his sword.

“This is my fight.”

Dorian’s laughter rang out again and he clapped his hands with barely contained excitement.

“Yes my little trollop, take your sword and I will draw mine. If you insist upon fighting me, then I have no choice but to kill you. Such a shame to waste all that beauty, but even more so to allow that bastard to claim you in my stead!”

She heard the unmistakable slide of Dorian’s own sword from his sheath as she stared into her husband’s eyes. Indecision flickered there for only a moment as Julian seemed to recall that she was the captain of the lady knights. Though he had never seen her fight he’d heard stories of her skill. Ava felt her heart swelling with adoration as she realized that he had every intention of trusting her.

Julian extended the sword to her and stepped back, pride pulling at his jaw and mouth as he nodded at her, once, swiftly.

“Finish it.”

~Chapter 17~

“Mudiwa, please, you must listen to me.”

Mudiwa felt anger tingling from the top of her head to her fingertips as she brushed past Isaac and made to leave the garden. His arm circled her from behind and he pulled her back against his body, his grasp firm.

“You do not understand,” he pleaded. “I’m not letting you go until you talk to me.”

Albert, who had followed Isaac into the garden and now stood surveying the damage Mudiwa had done to her assailants, gave a low whistle.

“Did you do all of this?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to their lover’s spat.

“Let go of me,” Mudiwa hissed, “or I’ll do to you what I did to them.”

“No,” he said calmly, imprisoning her swinging fist with a strong hand. “You will not. You will use reason and hear what I have to say. Albert, pour l’amour de Dieu, stop gawking and leave us! Send for the physician. I’m not sure if these men are dead or just unconscious. In either case, they do not deserve your pity.”

Albert turned away from the bloodied bodies and grinned at Mudiwa. “Well done,” he murmured before leaving the two alone.

“Now,” Isaac said, his mouth pressed tightly to her ear. “You will listen.”

Mudiwa felt the fight going out of her limbs as desire took over. She hated herself for folding so easily to his will, but could not help the instant awareness of their intimate position. His muscled chest pressed tightly up against her back as his arm held her captive and his breath blew warmly over her neck as he turned his face toward her to speak.

“I did not ask Genevieve to marry me. What you witnessed was no more than an elaborate scheme thought up by my mother in order to force me into marriage. She thought to turn my attention away from you by shaming me into taking Genevieve for a wife.”

“And will you?”

Isaac gave her a tight squeeze and placed a row of kisses along her bare shoulder to her neck. “You should know by now that I am not so easily manipulated. If you had remained but a moment longer you would have seen me snatching my grandmother’s ring from her finger. It was not meant for her.”

Mudiwa relaxed in his arms and he turned her to face him.

“Don’t you know that I would never let anything hurt you, even myself? I would tear my own heart out first!”

Mudiwa lowered her eyes and shook her head. “You wouldn’t harm me Isaac but there are people that would castigate the both of us because of what we are. It is good that I am leaving, for our love could bring us nothing but misery here.”

Isaac pressed his lips to hers as he clung to her desperately. “What we are is beautiful and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”

“It is not what they think that bothers me; it is what they will do. These men attacked me because they thought me no more than a plaything, a castoff mistress and a black one at that.”

“Then I am glad that they are dead and the ones that are not will face my wrath.”

“They are not the only ones that thought that of me, of us. Will we kill or maim everyone who makes such assumptions?”

“Non, because I will make you my wife.”

Mudiwa squeezed her eyes shut and tried in vain to block his passionately spoken words from her mind, but it was too late. She would be forever haunted by them.

She stepped from the circle of his arms and shook her head again. “I won’t let you ruin your life for my sake. I have destroyed enough lives.”

“This is not the same Mudiwa! There is no enraged, possessive king or threat of execution. There is only my love for you.”

“We would spend our lives fighting, Isaac. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to any…children we might have.”

Her voice hitched on the word ‘children’ as the image of offspring with skin the color of caramel flashed through her mind. She shook her head against the thoughts and turned away from him.

“Whatever this is between us, it is over. Marry Genevieve and live the life you were born to live.”

With his voice echoing in her ears, Mudiwa gathered her skirts and ran, putting as much distance between her and Isaac’s pleading calls as possible.

As she sprinted up the embankment and turned back toward the house, determined to pack her things and leave immediately, she skidded to a stop to find Ava locked in a swordfight with Dorian Blake.

Ava’s thigh stung and her strength was waning, but her sword remained raised. The clash of steel and the panting of two enraged fighters were the only sounds that could be heard as Julian watched from where he stood. Blood trickled from the gash in her thigh, but it poured in equal measure from the cut on Blake’s sword arm. Both were disadvantaged by their injuries, and both were growing tired.

Ava could feel Julian a few feet behind her, his muscles coiled to spring as he prepared to jump in and save her. She faintly registered a blur of movement in the corner of her eye and recognized Mudiwa’s towering form as she circled them, a dagger drawn.

“It is no use,” Blake growled as he lunged toward her. “I will have your blood on the edge of my sword when this night is through.”

Ava deflected his thrust with a parry before attempting to disarm Blake. Her blade made contact with his wrist, sending a gory spray of blood flying across the terrace, as well as her opponent’s weapon. A smile of triumph spread across her face as she gripped her sword with both hands and rammed it into the center of his chest.

Blood spread rapidly across the pristine white fabric of his shirt as he staggered backward, taking Julian’s sword with him. He glanced down at the hilt buried in his chest and then back up to Ava again.

“I’ll be damned,” he gasped as blood filled his mouth. He fell back onto ground, landing on his side with the sword jutting out from either end of his torso.

Julian and Mudiwa rushed forward just as Isaac appeared. Julian took her arm and Ava allowed herself to succumb to her injury and lean on him.

“That wound is deep,” Isaac said as he knelt to examine her thigh. “I’ll send for someone to tend to it but first we have to get you into a bed. Follow me.”

Ava glanced back and forth between Isaac and Mudiwa, her eyebrows raised. It was clear that something was wrong between them, but she decided not to pry. She supposed her friend would reveal her troubles when she was ready. She leaned on Julian as they turned to re-enter the house.

“We’ll take the servant’s entrance,” Isaac said as he gestured in the right direction, “to keep from drawing attention to what’s happened out here. I’ll have to send someone for his body.”

“I’m surprised hell hasn’t opened a hole in the ground and swallowed him whole,” Julian muttered as he helped her along.

“Hmm…I think that perhaps it did.”

Ava turned to glance back at Mudiwa but found her friend gazing back at the spot where Dorian lay. Instead of a body, they found nothing more than a patch of blood soaked ground.

Blake’s body was gone.

****

“There will be some swelling and pain, but you will be just fine in a few weeks. You must limit your activity so as not to ruin your stitches. There will be a scar, but you will be fine otherwise.”

Ava scowled as she glanced down at the bandage on her bare thigh. Akoko circled to the side of the bed and lowered her white nightgown over her legs before tucking her under the covers. Doctor Girard finished packing his leather bag and turned to Julian.

“It is plain to me that your wife is a headstrong woman. S'il vous plait, do not allow her to stress her leg unduly. She must rest if the wound is to heal quickly.”

Julian’s expression was grim as he turned to glare at his wife. Ava glared right back at him, the challenge in her eyes clear.

“I can assure you that she’ll be no trouble,” Julian said, his eyes never leaving Ava’s as a warning crept into his tone.

Akoko chuckled as she poured a cup of hot tea for Ava. “Drink this. Good for pain and help sleep.”

Mudiwa stifled a laugh as she watched her friend sniff at the fragrant tea and wrinkle her nose.

“Akoko is meek but she is insistent,” she said to Ava. “I would drink it if I were you.”

Ava scowled before downing the drink in one gulp. “Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” said Julian as he moved to the edge of the bed. He leaned over his wife and kissed her full on the mouth. When he pulled away, they were both smiling. “There. Now I am satisfied.”

“Any word on what happened to Blake’s body?”

Mudiwa shook her head. After sending for the doctor, Isaac had ordered a search of the grounds. After hours of looking, not one trace of Dorian Blake could be found. While his wound should have been fatal, there was no evidence of the man’s death besides the pool of blood that had long since been mopped up from the terrace.

“Blast!” Ava grunted, curling the sheets up in her fists. “I thought the bastard dead for sure.”

“At any rate, Isaac has assured us that the proper authorities have been contacted. We will let the French deal with Blake,” Julian said sternly. “It is time for us to return home.”

Ava opened her mouth to argue, but Julian’s fierce glance closed it. She yawned, the effects of the tea already seeping into her bones.

“When do we sail?” Mudiwa asked as the three of them stepped from the room.

“Two days,” Julian responded once they were on the other side of the door.

Mudiwa nodded. “I will be ready.”

“I’m going to find Hanako and Nell and apprise them of Ava’s condition. Excuse me.”

Mudiwa watched his retreating form until he’d disappeared from view. Akoko cleared her throat, drawing her friend’s attention once again.

“I will be sad to see you go,” Akoko said to her in their native tongue. She stepped forward to wrap her arms around Mudiwa. Mudiwa embraced her friend tightly.

“It saddens me to leave you here when I just found you,” she answered in Fongbe.

Akoko pulled away and smiled. “You could stay. I know that Femi and the children would love it. I know someone else who would love it too.”

Mudiwa’s smile faded. “That is not possible Akoko. I do not belong here.”

Akoko nodded. “I know. Just wishful thinking on my part. But you do know that he loves you?”

“I love him too Akoko,” Mudiwa lamented, pressing a hand over her heart to contain the ache there. “So much I can hardly stand to breathe without him but no good can come of this and after Asita...”

“Asita knew the dangers of your union and chose to love you anyway.”

“And he died for it.”

“Yes, but it was a fate he chose. Don’t you think he was intelligent enough to understand the consequences? Isaac is also a smart man. He knows what he is risking but he loves you enough not to care.”

“I know that you have my best interest at heart Akoko. I love you as my sister and I always will. But I cannot allow this to happen. I am leaving in two days time and my mind is made up.”

Akoko nodded again and grasped Mudiwa’s hand. “I know that you are doing what you feel you must. Will you promise to write me?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Good. Now, you still have a few hours until dawn. I suggest you go and say goodbye properly.”

Isaac was awake and pacing the length of his room when Mudiwa entered. She leaned against the heavy oak door and watched him, her fingers tangling in the clean jupe she’d donned before coming to find him. A breeze flittered through the open window and ruffled his mahogany locks. His chest was bare and every muscle in his torso rippled and rolled beneath his skin seductively. Mudiwa felt the stirrings of longing just watching him.

He paused when he noticed her leaning against the door, his hands fisted and his neck muscles tense as he stared back at her. Mudiwa pushed away from the door and hurtled into his arms. She found his lips and kissed him frantically.

“I’ve come to say goodbye,” she said after breaking away from his lips. “We sail in two days.”

Isaac’s arms came to the hem of her blouse and he pulled, his eyes ferociously possessive as he swept his gaze over her bare breasts.

“I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you to stay. I understand why you want to leave. I shall take this night with you and hold it always.”

He dropped her skirt to the floor and grasped her by the waist.

“I won’t say the words I wish to say because they will only bring us both pain. I must show you instead so that you may never doubt what is in my heart.”

Mudiwa lifted her arms to his neck and surrendered to his kiss as he backed her toward the bed. No more words were wasted or spoken as Isaac upheld his promise to show and not tell. The things he dared not say were in his every kiss and every touch. They were in the touch of his lips to her breasts and the caressing of his fingers between her thighs. They were in the pounding of his heart as their bodies meshed together. They vibrated out and rippled through her core with every well-timed thrust of his hips as he engaged her in his seductive dance. They were in his eyes as he watched her, committing her every expression and feature to his memory. They were mirrored in her own eyes as she did the same.

When the tide of passion had ebbed and she lay silently in his arms, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his rhythmic breathing.

As his fingertips stroked up and down her arm he pressed his lips to her forehead and sprinkled her face with gentle kisses. His lips never left her skin as he murmured over and over, “Tu es à moi. Moi seul.”

Mudiwa felt the truth of his proclamation in the depths of her soul.

You are mine. Mine alone.

It was true. After this, there could be no one else. Her heart would forever be his. The tragedy that was their inevitable parting could not be avoided. Neither could she evade the years of ensuing heartache that were sure to follow.

~Chapter 18~

“Is there anything that I can do?”

Mudiwa turned to Hanako and tried to force a smile. All around them the bustle of St. Pierre’s dock resumed its normal pace. In less than an hour, they would be departing for home and while Mudiwa was glad to be back in the bosom of her friends, her heart was slowly breaking. With every mile that was put between her and Prideux Plantation, she felt it rending even more.

“No,” she answered. “There is nothing that anyone can do.”

Hanako nodded and Mudiwa knew that her friend understood her need to keep her feelings to herself. Hanako was the master of stoicism.

“It will pass,” Hanako offered.

Mudiwa did not want to argue with her friend but inwardly she knew that things would never be the same. She glanced over Hanako’s shoulder to where Julian was carrying Ava up the gangplank. Already on the deck of the ship, Nell rested her head on Simon’s shoulder as the two whispered in hushed tones between chaste kisses. She tore her eyes away and tried not to envy her friends’ happiness. No one deserved it more than they did.

Mudiwa glanced back at Hanako and noticed that her friend seemed distracted.

“Are you all right?”

Hanako blinked and turned her gaze back to Mudiwa. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You look a little pale. Are you certain?”

Hanako retained her usually cool demeanor. “Just ready to get home, that is all. I’ll see you on board.”

With that, Hanako turned and walked up the gangplank. Mudiwa frowned before scanning the dock for the source of her friend’s discomfort. With all of the hustle and bustle around her Mudiwa couldn’t find a single thing that could have distressed Hanako, so she shrugged and took her friend’s word as truth.

As she slowly trailed up the gangplank, she took one last look over her shoulder. Mt Pelee loomed in the distance, tall and proud. Through the overgrowth of jungle, Mudiwa could barely make out Prideux Plantation. She wondered where Isaac was and what he was doing and if he remembered that she was leaving today.

After their last night together, she and her friends had left and returned to the inn in St. Pierre. She remained in the room she shared with Nell and Hanako, counting the hours until their departure. As the captain circled the deck to ensure that everyone was on board, Mudiwa wandered to the railing and leaned against it, her eyes still locked on the mountain.

She stood there for so long that she didn’t even realize that they had cast off until she felt the unmistakable sway of waves beneath them. As they drifted away from the island slowly, Mudiwa lowered her head and a hot splash of tears soaked the backs of her hands.

She gritted her teeth against the pain and stifled her sobs with her arm. Mudiwa reminded herself that the pain of leaving Isaac couldn’t be any worse than the pain of seeing him hurt. It was better this way and she knew it, but her heart had yet to realize it. This was for Isaac, for his own good.

It didn’t matter that she saw his face every time she closed her eyes, or that she could feel his embrace if she concentrated hard enough. It didn’t matter that mingling with the lapping of the waves, she could almost hear his voice calling her name.

“Mudiwa!”

Her head shot up and through blurry eyes she could see the figure of a man dashing across the dock, waving frantically. Hope soared in her chest and she reached her arm out to him, wishing with all of her strength so that their hands could touch one last time. She didn’t know if he was real or if her addled mind and tortured heart had conjured him up, but as he neared the edge of the dock and dove into the water, she clung to the hope that he was real.

Ava and Julian were at her side in an instant as Nell called to the crew for a rope. Mudiwa laughed through her tears as Isaac’s head broke the water and he swam toward the ship with strong, smooth strokes. He was there in minutes, grabbing onto the line that had been tossed over the ship’s side and then Nell and Julian were pulling him up. Then he was on the deck, dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear.

His clothing clung to his muscular frame and his hair was plastered to his face and neck. The green flecks at the center of his eyes gleamed brightly in the morning sun as he held his arms out to her. Mudiwa didn’t hesitate. She ran to him, not caring that her clothing became as soaked as his on contact.

“What are you doing?” she screeched as he covered her face in kisses.

Isaac grasped her face in his hands, kissing her, brushing his lips over her eyelids and nose and cheekbones before finding her mouth again. When she was starved for breath she planted her hands against his chest and pushed gently, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“Isaac!”

He placed his forehead against hers and laughed. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“You heard me! I would be a fool to let you leave me now, not when we could be so happy together.”

“What about Prideux?”

“Damn Prideux! I’ve never wanted it anyway and Albert always has. He will take my place and marry Sabine and the two will grow old there together.”

“Marry Sabine!”

Mudiwa knew that she sounded like a fool, but what he was saying was so preposterous that it bore repeating. She needed to assure herself with every passing second that this moment was real.

Isaac shrugged. “He hasn’t asked her yet but he will, I know it. I couldn’t think of a happier ending for my brother. He will have what he always wanted and I will have the one thing I cannot live without. You.”

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and found the diamond and ruby ring that he’d wanted to place on her finger for weeks. Mudiwa pressed her hand over her mouth.

“Oh Isaac, you cannot!”

“I can and I will.”

He slid the band onto her left ring finger and pulled her in for another kiss. Mudiwa’s friends stood by, gathered around in a tight huddle. Tears sparkled in Nell’s eyes and a smile was etched across Ava’s lips. Hanako nodded in silent approval.

“Isaac, you have done a very foolish thing. You are leaving behind everything you’ve ever known, for me!”

“That alone should tell you how much I love you and just how determined I am that we will be together. There is nowhere you can go to escape me and there is nothing you can say to turn me away.”

He kissed her one last time before lifting her from her feet and twirling her in circles with a joyous laugh.

“You are mine forever, mon bien-aimé.”

My beloved.

****

Six weeks later…

Isaac walked over to the polished desk in the corner of the study and lowered himself into a cushioned chair with a sigh. It had been a long day and he was tired and ready for dinner, but there was one small matter to take care of first. He’d been in Barony for all of two weeks and had yet to write home.

He smiled as he spotted Mudiwa walking past the study’s door, her bow and arrow slung over one shoulder. She had just come from a day of training new recruits at the ladies regiment’s compound and was probably as tired as he was. Isaac knew she’d want a bath before dinner, which gave him plenty of time to write a letter to Albert.

He opened the drawer at his left and removed a few sheets of parchments before dipping his quill in the nearby vial of ink.

June 15, 1857

Dear Albert,

I would have written to you sooner, but things have been so hectic since I last saw you that I am only now finding the time to do so. I hope that you have no regrets over my decision and feel nothing but joy at informing you that I do not. I couldn’t have been happier in Martinique if I had tried and feel more validated than ever in my decision.

You should know that Mudiwa and are were married one week ago in a small ceremony at Barony’s royal palace. Yes, my brother, my wedding was hosted by the King and Queen themselves. They spared no expense as they were so happy to have both Ava and Mudiwa returned to them unharmed. The reception was shared by Ava and Julian as a celebration of their union as well. Nell and Simon have made their engagement official and should be married by the end of summer.

Mudiwa and I have settled into her estate, a beautiful mansion spread out over a grassy knoll named Westeroak. While there are farmlands to be tended, I have a man who oversees that for me, though I miss Femi terribly. Albert, if I never plow another mile of soil in my entire life I’ll die a happy man.

I’m sure you’re wondering, then, how I’ve been spending my time. While on board The Triton for four weeks, I had more than enough time to contemplate how to spend the rest of my life. One morning while writing my musings down on a slip of paper, I discovered a talent for poetry. Laugh if you will but I spent the entire voyage penning pages and pages of poetry and am now awaiting a crate full of leather-bound volumes with my name on them.

That is the extent of my news for now. I will write to you again soon. I trust that you have things well in hand at Prideux and that you and Femi are doing a better job running the place than I ever could have. Give my love to Femi and Akoko and a kiss to Maman. If the old man is still living, I suppose you may give him my regards as well.

All my love,

Isaac Arnaud Prideux IV

~Epilogue~

Pain radiated from the center of his chest and reached out into the tips of his fingers and toes. He turned his head and groaned, squinting against the bright morning light. This was the second time within a few weeks that he was awakening in this condition and he was not happy about it in the least.

Anger mingled with the pain and created an acrid taste in his mouth. It tasted like blood, and he faintly remembered his mouth being filled with it just before he fell to the ground.

“He is stirring.”

“Close the drapes. The light is too much for him.”

“No, let him adjust.”

Dorian Blake stirred and forced his eyes open as he recognized the voices of the people gathered around him in the room. The surroundings were not familiar, but he knew that returning home now was not an option. He would have to continue as a fugitive for now, perhaps even for the rest of his life. The thought only served to increase his anger.

Three faces appeared within his line of vision; Tanya, her green eyes wide with worry, François, his expression grim and Geoffrey, his eyebrows creased and his eyes turbulent.

“How long have I been out?” he asked, ignoring the fire that burst in his chest as he tried to sit up. The pain darkened his vision so he stilled, willing himself to remain conscious.

“Several weeks off and on,” Geoff answered. “We were not sure that you would survive.”

“You should know that it will take more than a mere slip of a girl to bring me down,” he said as he allowed Tanya to croon at him and pet his face and neck with a damp towel. Her succor was welcome for now, but he had long grown tired of her presence. He was too weak to do much about it now, though. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

The sound of a clearing throat caught Dorian’s attention and he frowned, turning his head to find the shadow of a fourth person in the corner of the room.

“Geoffrey what game is this? Who is that there?”

An Oriental man, a stranger, stepped from the shadows, his dark eyes cool and assessing.

“Mister Blake, I was assured that you would be awakened soon and able to assist me,” the man said in perfect English. “I apologize for intruding upon your convalescence, but the information I seek is of the utmost importance.”

“François, get this idiot out of my sight,” Dorian mumbled as he reached for the cheroot Tanya had lit for him and was now holding to his lips. “Come back later. Can you not see that I am ill?”

“I am willing to pay,” the man said, shooting François a glance that said he would not tolerate the man’s interference. Dorian could see that the man was not intimidated and could perhaps give François a run for his money. The long black-handled sword at the man’s side suggested that he was prepared to do whatever necessary to obtain what he wanted.

When he extended a small, heavy chest to him, Dorian’s curiosity swelled. He nodded to Geoff, who took the box and placed it in Dorian’s lap. Dorian flipped open the lid and grinned at the pile of gleaming gold coins inside the chest. Dorian took a long drag of his cheroot before flicking the ashes into the ashtray in Tanya’s hands. He motioned for Geoff to take the chest away and raised his eyebrow at the strange visitor.

“I am at your service.”

The man smiled. “Good. Tell me everything you know about Barony.”

Book Three: The Accidental Groom

Prologue

Edo, Japan 1849

Hanako Kiyomi pulled at the fabric wrapped around her knees until she was satisfied at its tightness. She knotted it firmly and inspected her handiwork. Once she was dead, this would prevent her from toppling to the floor. To remain in the position of kneeling in death was to die with dignity. It saddened Hanako that her life was going to end this way. Hanako had always imagined that she would die gloriously in battle with her weapon in hand and the blood of the enemy staining her clothes. She’d always imagined dying with glory and honor befitting an esteemed onna-bugeisha, but as fate would have it, she was now going to her grave by her own hand. It was a cowardly thing to do, but Hanako could think of no fate worse than being tied forever in marriage to Kiyoshi Taka.

She had begged her father to change his mind, pleaded with her mother to convince him to reverse his decision, even knowing that her father, one of the most powerful samurai in all of Edo, would not bend so easily.

On the other hand, he should have known that she was her father’s daughter and not likely to bend or break. So here she was, with her knees bound and her kaiken drawn from its sheath up her sleeve. Hanako could remember vividly the day she was given the small dagger. When her mother had told her of the ritual of jigai, she’d scoffed but taken the knife anyway. She was the daughter of a samurai and soon to begin training with the other female warriors of the upper class. She would become an honored onna bugeisha and defend her home and family with pride. Hanako would never be so cowardly as to slit her own throat in the ritual of jigai. Jigai was for women who feared rape or torture at the hands of the enemy. Hanako had never felt such fear, as she was proficient with the kaiken, pole blade, and bow and arrow. She eyed her naginata, the deadly weapon she wielded with such power, and mourned that the status of the onna bugeisha had been dimished in her country. Women were no longer the equals of their counterparts. They were property, pawns in the games of the upper class and no more than vessels for childbearing. As Hanako thought of marriage to the domineering Kiyoshi and years of watching her warrior’s body fall apart as she bore child after child, she felt tight bands of despair squeezing at her heart.

Never could she bow to the will of such a man. Never could she become nothing more than property, a man’s footstool. She had been raised with dignity and strength and could no more become a docile wife than a fish could sprout wings and fly.

There was nothing for it, Hanako knew. There had been no mistaking the gleam in Kiyoshi’s eyes when he gazed upon her. The samurai wanted her and the intent that she found in the dark depths of his eyes was clear. To possess and tame the daughter of Tadao Kiyomi would bring him nothing but pride. For a man who was already as vain as one could be, this would only contribute to his unbelievable arrogance. Life with such a man would surely kill her slowly, from the inside. Now, jigai was not so distasteful. At least this way, Hanako was still in control and would die a quick and efficient death.

Would her father shed a tear over her loss? More than likely not. Tadao would be more worried about the familial alliance that would be broken because of her decision. Tadao was not a foolish man. He knew that the esteem of the samurai was fading in Edo

Life as Hanako’s family knew it would soon end and a new age of living was upon them. That Hanako was fated to be the sacrificial lamb to save her family’s position in society sickened her.

Thus her position on the floor with an unsheathed kaiken. Hanako held the blade to the vital artery in her throat, her chest heaving as her breath came in short gasps. Fear lanced through her and she hesitated, pricking the white flesh of her throat before pulling the knife away. A drop of blood stained the sleeve of her uchikake. Her mother had worked so hard on her wedding ensemble and Hanako felt guilt over ruining it. The formal kimono’s flowing white silk was shot through with pale blue and silver thread in an arabesque pattern of pine, bamboo and plum. The wide, blue obi around her waist was tied in the butterfly pattern at her back. Her hair had been styled elaborately and her face perfectly defined by cosmetics. Against the backdrop of snow white skin, red, heart-shaped lips pouted and slanted eyes were lined black.

She thought of her mother’s heartache when she walked in to find her daughter kneeling with blood staining the beautiful uchikake. She lowered the dagger and felt a tear escape the corner of her eye, cursing herself for succumbing to her softer emotions. Hanako knew in her heart that she could never hurt her mother that way.

Just as she lowered the kaiken, the doors behind her slid open and her mother came into the room on silent feet. Her dismay was immediate when she noticed her daughter kneeling on the floor and the kaiken in her hand. Tears filled her eyes and she rushed forward, snatching the dagger from Hanako’s hand before delivering a stinging slap across her cheek.

“Orokana on'nanoko!” she spat, as tears rushed down her pale cheeks. Foolish girl!

“I am sorry mother,” Hanako said, lowering her gaze to her lap. “I am just so heartbroken. How could Father do this to me?”

“Hanako, you are getting married today. Do not bring shame to your father by acting selfishly.”

Hanako dropped her head to avoid the fire in her mother’s gaze. The submissive woman’s demeanor hid an underlying strength that her daughter was well acquainted with. Aiko Kiyomi knelt beside Hanako and reached for the sleeve of the stained gown.

“We must get this out quickly. Then, you will dry your tears and go to your wedding.”

Hanako nodded but remained silent.

After Aiko had finished scrubbing the fabric clean, she tucked a stray strand of waist-length raven-black hair into Hanako’s chignon. She smoothed out the streaks Hanako had created in her white face powder with her tears and fastened a jade and ivory comb into her hair.

Once finished, Aiko grabbed her daughter and pulled her close. As they embrace Hanako felt the press of a small, glass vial against her palm.

“You will know when to use it,” she whispered as Hanako’s fingers closed around the vial. “Just two or three drops in his cup tonight and he will be out for hours. From there I can no longer help you, but you have always been resourceful my little flower child.”

Aiko pulled away abruptly as Hanako tucked the vial discreetly into her obi. Aiko nodded at her once, her mouth a firm line, as if to confirm that what she’d just heard was true. Aiko’s eyes glittered with mischief and determination for a few seconds before the mask of a submissive wife fell back into place.

The two women linked arms and left to meet the rest of their family. Hanako took one last look back at her home before leaving to meet her groom. She had a feeling that this would be the last time she ever gazed upon it.

****

“Please, watashi no otto, allow me to prepare myself for you. Perhaps you would like a drink while you are waiting?”

Kiyoshi stared at Hanako with shrewd eyes. She lowered her gaze from him with a barely suppressed shiver. Hanako had known the first time she gazed into those eyes that  life with him would bring her misery. Within their dark depths gleamed arrogance, brutality, and control. He reached across the distance that separated them and touched Hanako’s face with thick, strong fingers. Kiyoshi’s warrior’s body lay back against the cushions in repose. His grip on her chin was gentle but firm, a stern reminder of his physical strength. Kiyoshi raised Hanako’s chin until she was forced to meet his gaze.

“First, I wish to see your hair unbound. It is so gloriously long and beautiful. You will take it down for me and disrobe so that I may look at you. Then you will serve me the drink you offered and then…”

His eyes followed his hand down the slim column of her throat to the swell of her breast against her uchikake. Hanako drew in a sharp breath and resisted the urge to pull away. She would play the part of a nervous bride just long enough to make her escape. As Kiyoshi’s hand squeezed her through the silk, Hanako reminded herself that she would only have to bear his touch a bit longer.

“As you wish, my husband.”

She stood and moved over to the low table holding a bottle of sake and two small, cylindrical cups. Hanako poured the liquor into both glasses before covertly reaching into her obi to retrieve the tiny vial. She placed two drops of an aromatic substance into Kiyoshi’s sake before dropping the glass container to the floor. With her back still turned to Kiyoshi, she began to disrobe, untying her obi and allowing the layers of her uchikake to fall to the floor, effectively hiding the vial.

Under Kiyoshi’s watchful gaze, she began to pull the combs and pins from her hair, until the straight, dark mass fell down to her hips. Only then did she stand to face him. Kiyoshi’s eyes flared with pleasure as they raked over her naked form. He came up from his position against the pillows on the floor and approached her. Hanako stiffened as he reached out to brush her hair over one shoulder, exposing one small breast to his view. His eyes flashed as he ran his hand over her bare arm.

“I see that your mother has instructed you on being a docile wife as I requested. I am pleased to learn that you have heeded her advice.”

Hanako did not answer. She lowered her gaze to keep him from catching the defiant flash that she knew was there. He took this as a sign of acquiescence and moved to pull her into his arms.

“Please husband,” she said. “Might we have that drink now? I am very nervous about what is to happen next and wish to calm my nerves with a drink. If it pleases you,” she added, fighting back nausea at her own words.

Just a little bit longer.

Kiyoshi smiled and stroked her hair once more before crossing to the table to retrieve the drinks she had poured. As he held the filled cups up between them, Hanako was careful to take the one in his right hand, the one that had not been drugged. They both downed their sake in one swallow and Hanako took the vessels and returned them to the table.

Kiyoshi laid her down onto the cushions and Hanako reclined, distancing her mind from her body as he touched her. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at him while he attempted to make use of her body. Hanako counted the minutes as Kiyoshi fondled her and found blessed relief when his eyes finally rolled back into his head and he fell, face forward, on top of her.

Hanako swiftly shoved him over and leaped to her feet. She stripped him of his clothing and donned them quickly. They were entirely too long as Kiyoshi was several inches taller than her, but they would have to do. She wound her hair up into a queue, much like one her brother would have worn, and jammed the hat Kiyoshi had worn to the temple ceremony on her head. In the corner, she found Kiyoshi’s katana.

She attached the sword carried by all samurai to her garments before turning to leave. It was not her naginata, but it was a weapon, one that she would prove useful if necessary.

As she slid the doors closed behind her, she took one last look back at Kiyoshi, who lay sprawled against the pillows as naked as the day he was born. Hanako turned away and gladly put the man behind her, grateful that she would never have to see him again as long as she lived.

Chapter 1

Gladstone, Barony 1857

He was coming for her.

Hanako knew it, believed it more than she’d ever believed anything in her entire life. She felt it in her bones, sensed it in the stare of the man that had stalked her across the island of Martinique.

When they’d first docked at the port of St. Pierre, Hanako thought herself daydreaming when she saw the figure of a person resembling her jilted husband in the distance. He’d  watched her with dark, fathomless eyes, the arrogant tilt to his chin stunningly familiar. She saw him several times, knew that the consequences of her decision to flee Edo were now coming back to rear their ugly heads.

Hanako dismounted the mare she’d taken up the hill to Stonevale, her estate, and handed the reins to her groom. While she did not inhabit the manor house given to her by the king and queen at all times, Hanako often came to spend her days off from training. She found a quiet solitude in the large house that was comforting. While Mudiwa and Ava now had husbands to live with and Nell soon would, Hanako liked her solitude and quite enjoyed roaming the winding corridors of Stonevale by herself. She’d even had one of the rooms transformed to her satisfaction for the purpose of meditation.

It was to that room she was heading now, as she made her way up the stone path to the front doors. Mrs. Cunningham, the housekeeper and cook, met her at the door.

“My lady,” she said with a bow as Hanako breezed into the foyer. She allowed John, her footman, to take her bow and sheath of arrows. She’d left her naginata back at the regiment’s compound. She removed the wide-brimmed hat and scarf she wore for keep the dust out of her face on long rides and handed them to Mrs. Cunningham.

“Good afternoon,” she said to the maid. “I’d like a bath as soon as possible and dinner in my room this evening,” she said with a nod toward the housekeeper before turning left toward her wing of the house.

“Of course, my lady,” Mrs. Cunningham replied as she and her mistress parted ways.

Hanako entered the room she’d had re-decorated in shades of black and gold. Mrs. Cunningham had thrown back her heavy drapes and opened the windows to allow in the sunlight, as well as the fragrance of carefully tended lilacs.

Her maid and a footman appeared toting a hipbath. Hanako stood near one of the open windows, inspecting the rolling green lawn surrounding Stonevale Manor. In the distance were the cattle farms responsible for producing meat, milk, and animal skins to Gladstone, as well as two other villages in Barony. Hanako felt pride swelling in her chest as she watched a herd of sheep being tended miles away. These people were now her responsibility and after years of hard work and dedication she had been bestowed with an honor that had once been meant only for men.

If only father could see me now, she mused as she came away from the window. But she knew that Tadao could never even begin to understand her position in Barony. Even now, her mother’s belly was probably swollen with child for the sixth time, or perhaps even the seventh or eighth. Hanako did not have any way of knowing what had occurred in Edo after her disappearance.

Luck had certainly been on her side and fate had carried her to a new path, one she tread upon with pride. After selling her jade and ivory wedding jewelry, she had paid for passage on board a merchant ship leaving the morning after her wedding. While she feared that Kiyoshi would find her before she could leave the shores of Japan, there was nothing else to be done. She’d spent that first night sleeping in the cargo hold of the ship, after begging the captain to be allowed to do so, and the next morning praying that Kiyoshi would not figure out where she had gone until it was too late.

Hanako hadn’t known when she arrived in Cardenas what to expect, but freedom tasted so sweet that she hadn’t cared. She worked on board the ship, mopping the deck and chopping vegetables in the galley and had just enough money to get by once she left the ship at Cardenas’ port. The currency was foreign to her, but she soon learned its value as she purchased clothing, food and a horse.

Hanako had spent her first few days in Cardenas, immersed in a world so different from her own. She’d come across Ava and Mudiwa while riding through the forests between Barony and Cardenas and the three became fast friends. It was only natural that she’d end up a part of the women’s regiment and once Ava learned her skills as a fighter, she was inducted into the lady soldiers sisterhood. Her friends had done everything they could to make her feel welcomed in their circle. Ava had even taken Hanako’s description of a naginata and disappeared into her blacksmith’s shop to immediately craft her friend’s weapon of choice.

This was all the family that she needed, Hanako decided as the servants left her to her bath. As she peeled off her dusty breeches and tunic before sinking into the bath, she felt nothing but gratitude and peace at the thought of the people in her life. She was satisfied, perfectly content. Sure Ava had Julian, Mudiwa had Isaac, and now Nell had Simon, while Hanako was still alone. She did not envy her friends happiness in the least. In fact, she quite liked the men that her companions had chosen. They were matched perfectly and Hanako knew that their loves would last a lifetime.

Such a life was not for her. She envisioned a future in which she took the reins as the Lady Knights’ leader once Ava had started her own family. Eventually Mudiwa and Nell would lay down their weapons in favor of raising families as well and Hanako would be all that was left of the original Lady Knights of Barony.

Hanako washed quickly before leaving the tub and donned a clean gown. While at home she appreciated being able to dress like a lady, even if there was no one there to see her.

With a few more hours until dinner, Hanako was happy to retreat to her meditation room, where she knew her staff understood that she was not to be disturbed.

She had lucked out by finding the incense that calmed her with its soothing scent, and the zafu cushion much like the one she’d had back home in Edo for sitting on. The dark paneled walls and soft Oriental rugs gave the room an opulent feel, and while it was nothing like being home, Hanako felt it was even better.

She retrieved her zafu from the low table where her incense was kept. After lighting it and filling the room with the scent of Jasmine and sandalwood, Hanako placed the cushion on the floor in the middle of the room and lowered herself onto it. She folded her legs under herself in the full-lotus position and clasped her hands together with one hand resting in the other palm and the thumbs touching. She rested her hands in her lap and lowered her eyelids over her eyes, allowing her mind to drift as thoughts raced through it.

As she breathed deeply from her center, she tried not to focus overlong on the problem that was Kiyoshi Taka. She had bested him once and, if necessary, she would outsmart him again. Yet even as she tried to lose herself in meditation, she could not shake the cold, hard image of Kiyoshi’s dark eyes. Even now, with oceans between them, they caused a chill down her spine.

****

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mister…”

“Taka.”

“Mister Taka. Welcome to Barony.”

Queen Isabelle paused, resting a hand against her shifting belly as the child within gave a swift kick. Nausea welled up in her chest and she took a slow sip of tea and nibbled on a biscuit in an effort to dispel it. With a gracious smile, she turned back to her visitor.

Aside from Hanako, he was the only person of Oriental descent that she’d ever laid eyes on. He’d been sent with a letter from Esmeralda, who had purchased several beautiful ornaments and trinkets from the merchant. Her friend had waxed poetic over the man’s decadent merchandise and urged Isabelle to take a look for herself. The letter had been presented the day before and Isabelle made an appointment with the man for this morning. He appeared on Guthrie Hall’s front steps with a wagon loaded down with his wares. Several footmen were now laying the goods out in the drawing room next to theirs as they engaged in tea and idle chatter.

“It is an honor to be in your presence, Your Highness,” Kiyoshi said in accented English. “Tales of your bravery in battle have reached my ears, as well as those of the other lady knights. I hear that you are all quite exceptional.”

Isabelle blushed and smiled. “Well, I don’t know about that. We’ve done what we must to protect our people, Mister Taka. We do not allow the fact that we are women stand in our way.”

Kiyoshi returned her smile. “The notion of lady warriors is not a foreign one for me, Your Highness. In Edo, the women of the bushi, that is the upper class as you would call it, protect their homes fiercely beside their samurai husbands. We call them the onna bugeisha.”

Isabelle’s eyes lit up as she latched onto the familiar word. “I have heard of them.”

She laughed, clapping her hands together with glee. “Why, one of our lady knights is one of them! Oh, this is so exciting! Perhaps you know her?”

Kiyoshi shrugged while taking another sip of his tea. “This tea is divine.”

“Perhaps I could send you back to your inn with more. It is a special brew made by Queen Esmeralda’s mother. It is exquisite, is it not?”

“You are most kind. Now, Your Highness, perhaps we should retire to the next room so that you may inspect my wares?”

“Certainly Mister Taka. First, though, I wonder if you won’t accept my invitation to a ball one week from today. It is to celebrate the engagement of the one of the lady knights. Perhaps I can introduce you to my ladies…as well as the lady I was telling you about. Maybe you have met before.”

“You are very gracious. I would love to come and meet your friend.”

Isabelle slowly stood, careful not to jostle the now calm baby. Hopefully, he would give her rolling stomach a rest for a few hours.

“Wonderful. I will send an invitation with the details to your inn this afternoon. Shall we go and inspect your merchandise now, Mister Taka?”

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.”

Chapter 2

“Are you certain you won’t play another hand?”

“Do I look dense to you? I would rather not squander my fortune away this evening, gents. Perhaps another night.”

Lord Garrick Overton handed over the last of the money owed after a heavy night of loss at the card table. It was just as well, he’d long grown bored with the game. He stood and straightened his burgundy tailcoat and retrieved his ornate walking stick before bidding his acquaintances good night. Garrick left the dimly lit, smoke-filled room and squinted as he re-entered the ball room decked out in shades of white and gold and bursting with the light of hundreds of candles.

He pulled his silver pocket watch, which was an heirloom previously owned by his father, from his pocket and observed the time. It was still too early to leave without seeming rude and Garrick had yet to congratulate the newly betrothed couple.

One more hour and I shall take my leave, he promised himself as he plastered a smile across his face and moved across the ballroom toward the happy pair. Lady Nell Tibbs, dressed beautifully in navy blue satin stood in the arm of her fiancé, smiling and laughing with Queen Isabelle and the other lady knights. They  looked quite handsome together, and it seemed that love had placed a becoming pink blush on the lady’s cheeks. Garrick approached and wished them both well, shaking Simon’s hand and introducing himself before congratulating Lady Tibbs with a kiss on her white-gloved hand.

He met Sir Julian Vincent, Lady Longley’s newly wedded husband as well as Monsieur Isaac Prideux, newly wedded to Lady Akua. As he watched each couple take to the dance floor, he marveled over the change that had befallen Barony in the last year.

With the return of their lost princess, now queen, the province had won the war and gone on to make a stunning comeback, one that Garrick would have never seen coming. A member of Barony’s High Council, Garrick was closely involved with the rebuilding effort and was happy to see the rebirth of the land he loved so much.

Many things had changed in his own life as well, but that was not something he wanted to think of at the moment. He did not want to cast a shadow over the joyous occasion and thinking of what he’d lost would only cause him to do just that.

Instead, he accepted a tumbler of brandy from a passing footman and sipped slowly, his deep blue eyes circling around the room with a hawk’s precision. They came to rest on a figure in rosy pink that sent his pulse racing and made his mouth go instantly dry.

Lady Hanako Kiyomi.

She was a vision with her short, black hair curled artfully and upswept with fresh flowers in shades of mauve, white and red adorning them on one side. Above the short, puffed sleeves and dipping neckline, stretches of smooth, milky white skin gleamed in the candlelight. A willowy-thin frame was showcased to perfection by the gown’s tight-fitting bodice and flaring skirt with a few flounces in brocaded gauze. Pearls gleamed at her ears and throat and matching gloves covered slender hands and arms.

She met his gaze, his coal-black eyes hypnotic with their almond shape and striking tilt. Her cheeks flushed slightly as Garrick’s stare lowered to a narrow, heart-shaped mouth tinted an alluring shade of dusky pink. She nodded at him once before disappearing in the crowd.

Garrick released a breath he didn’t realize had been trapped in his lungs and quickly downed what was left in his glass. The fiery liquid burned through his throat and down into his chest and only served to further exacerbate the desire he felt every time he looked at her.

He could remember vividly the first time he’d laid eyes upon her. She’d been riding hell for leather in Barony’s woods, a bow and sheath of arrows strapped to her back. Her hair had been longer then, streaming behind her in a thick braid, but Garrick found that he preferred it’s now shorter length. It showed her gently sloping shoulders and graceful neck off to perfection.

“Lord Overton.”

Garrick was snapped out of his wandering thoughts by the voice of King Serge, who had appeared at his side as if by magic. Serge leaned heavily on his walking stick, but while Garrick’s was only for show he knew that the king’s was not. He suppressed a snicker as he realized that Queen Isabelle must have bullied him into using it. The king always complained that he hated using it, but that his wife insisted he use it when in pain.

His face, though, showed no indication of any distress so Garrick chose not to comment. He dipped into a gracious bow instead.

“Your Highness. Your wife has outdone herself.”

“She is as happy as one could be at all that has happened this year. It has all come so fast but she is taking it all in stride.”

Garrick followed King Serge’s line of vision to where his wife stood, radiant in emerald green silk and diamonds. The two exchanged a knowing glance and pain lanced through Garrick’s heart as he remembered exchanging similar looks with Kathy years ago. He tore his eyes away, reminding himself that he’d promised not to dwell on those thoughts.

“She carries pregnancy well,” Garrick said in an effort to drive his thoughts away from Kathy. “She’s practically glowing.”

“Little Lionus will be born in three months time,” the king responded, pride filling his voice.

“You are certain it is a boy.”

King Serge smiled. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

“I look forward to it, my king. We are breathlessly awaiting the arrival of the next king of Barony.”

Serge’s smile widened as he clapped Garrick on the back joyfully. “Perhaps you’d like to join me in the library for a cigar. I’d like a break from the crush and I am sure you would as well. I am interested in hearing your thoughts on the proposal I’m preparing for the council regarding the reform of our orphanages.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Excellent, right this way.”

As they turned to exit the ballroom, Queen Isabelle intercepted them. “Darling, are you leaving the ballroom?”

“Only for a moment, my love. Lord Overton and I have a few matters to discuss in private.”

“Oh,” the queen blinked and smiled sheepishly. “I beg your pardon, Lord Overton. How do you do?”

Garrick bowed and kissed the queen’s gloved hand. “I am well, Your Highness. Thank you for asking.”

“And what of young Master Kendrick?”

Her eyes filled with pity at the mention of Garrick’s ailing son and he forced down the lump rising in his throat at the thought of the boy.

“I wish that I had better news to report, my queen, but the boy is not well at all.”

“That is unfortunate,” she said, placing a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive me for even mentioning it.”

“It was kind of you to inquire, no harm done.”

She gifted him with one of her angelic smiles before turning back to her husband. “I was hoping you’d meet my invited guest, Mister Kiyoshi Taka. The Japanese merchant I was telling you about? He has just arrived.”

Serge turned and gave Garrick and apologetic smile. “Perhaps I can meet you in my study? You know the way Lord Overton. Help yourself to the cigars. This will only be a moment.”

“Of course,” Garrick said with another stiff bow. “I will await you there.”

The two disappeared into the crowd and Garrick felt relief at being able to quit the ballroom earlier than planned. After his chat with the king he would leave. Queen Isabelle’s mention of his son had Garrick yearning to look in on him.

He entered the study and removed his tailcoat, draping it over the back of a high-backed chair. Moving over to the sideboard, he helped himself to a glass of King Serge’s port before locating the humidor. Garrick lit a cigar, inhaled deeply and sighed, moving away from the cloud of smoke he was creating and going over to an open window. He stared out into the night pensively, the aroma of the garden’s flowers mingling with that of the aromatic tobacco.

The door opened and slammed and the sound of hurried feet caught his attention. He turned with a pleasant smile upon his face, expecting to find King Serge. Instead, he turned and looked into the eyes of the woman who had earlier stirred feelings of longing deep within his gut.

“Lady Hanako!”

She leaned against the door, her eyes darting wildly about the room. Her chest heaved as she gulped for air, her hands shaking as they gripped the skirt of her pink gown. Garrick’s eyebrows snapped together in concern and he quickly stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray on the study’s desk and came forward to meet her.

“Is something amiss?”

Garrick had never seen her anything other than quiet and refined. Though her eyes were always sharp and assessing, she hardly ever spoke unless spoken to and even then, she was a woman of few words. Now, she was obviously distressed and Garrick could not tamp down the desire to find the cause and, if it were human, smite it into dust.

Hanako’s eyes locked onto his and widened, her lips parting as her breathing slowed. Indecision seemed to flicker there for a moment as she perused him from head to toe. Garrick tensed, wondering what she was thinking and if it was in any way favorable. Suddenly, she strode forward and grasped the lapels of his waistcoat, pulling him down toward her as her head barely came up to his chest.

Garrick’s breath hitched in his throat as her fingers tightened against the fabric. Her breath smelled of champagne and vanilla scented custard and it mingled with her own perfumed scent, creating quite a heady experience. It was through this haze that her voice penetrated clear as a bell and full of purposeful intent.

“Kiss me.”

Just moments before, Queen Isabelle had approached her, intending to introduce her to a visiting merchant from Japan. Frissons of dread rolled down Hanako’s spine as Isabelle grasped her arm and led her toward the dark-haired man speaking with King Serge. His black hair was pulled back into a braid running down his back. Hanako knew the broad shoulders and wide chest, the arrogant mouth that quirked into a mockery of a smile as he turned to meet her gaze. She knew the dark eyes that taunted her with their knowing gleam.

He’d been expecting her, the fiend, and was delighting in her discomfort as Isabelle introduced her to Kiyoshi Taka, the husband she’d drugged and abandoned years ago. He smiled and asked her to join him in a dance. In the presence of Serge and Isabelle, Hanako had no choice but to accept without appearing rude. Cursing him in her mind, Hanako accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Kiyoshi sneered down at her as they moved in time to the music, but Hanako refused to look away from his assessing gaze. She met him full on, disguising her turbulent fear with anger.

“I am surprised to find you here, wife.”

“You are not. And do not call me that, I am not your wife.”

“No? I seem to remember exchanging vows.”

“You seem to have forgotten that it was not consummated.”

Kiyoshi’s grip tightened at her waist, nearly cutting off her air supply. His mouth trembled as his jaw clenched.

“A matter than can be rectified,” he said, his voice lowered and wavering with rage.

“I am not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, but you will. Once I’ve written your father and informed him of your whereabouts, you will have no choice.”

Hanako stifled a gasp and felt her heart beating in double time. Her parents in Barony? She could think of nothing more disastrous than her father invading her comfortable life. It wasn’t even worth the small pleasure of seeing her mother again after so long. Tadao Kiyomi was not likely to be happy to see her, or at her life’s new course.

“Your threats are meaningless and your reappearance into my life means nothing.”

“You are my wife. It means everything.”

“Our marriage is not binding without consummation and after all of these years without it, no court in any country of the world would deny me an annulment. As far as I’m concerned, our marriage never was and never will be.”

Kiyoshi’s hand tightened around hers painfully. “You are mine. Your father promised you to me and you left, shamed me with your defiance. I intend to have you again, Hanako, whatever it takes.”

“That is impossible. You see, I…” Hanako paused, scrambling for a reason, any reason she could give Kiyoshi for not being able to marry him. Her lips formed the only excuse that came to mind at that moment. “You see, I am already wed.”

“What?” Fury caused his voice to waver. The single word chilled her to the core but she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye.

“Yes,” she said, her voice filled with false confidence. “My husband and I are very recently wed and...” she arched a brow, unable to resist the urge to jab at his ego, “fully consummated.”

“I do not believe you.”

“I do not have to prove anything to you.”

The music faded but Kiyoshi’s hold on her did not slacken. The predatory gleam in his eyes increased and the bite of his fingers against her skin was brutal. Hanako thought of the dagger hidden beneath her dress but knew that it would only cause a scene were she to draw it on Kiyoshi in the middle of the ballroom. As if aware that they were not alone, Kiyoshi finally released his hold on her and stepped away. His hands trembled at his sides and Hanako knew that he itched to strike her.

Instead he brought his hands to the lapels of his plain black evening coat and straightened it with a dignified tilt of his head.

“I do believe I will write that letter to your father after all,” he said with a malicious grin. “I’m certain he will be delighted to meet your new spouse.”

Rage clouded her vision and fear clogged her throat until Hanako had no choice but to flee from the room, Kiyoshi’s chuckles following her.

Her hurried steps had taken her from the ballroom and down the corridor to a row of doors that were unfamiliar to her. As she pulled at the locked knobs of first one, then another, Hanako’s mind whirled with chaotic thought. What was she to do now? It would take a few weeks for her father to receive the letter and then what would he do? He would arrive in Barony, that’s what he’d do, and while Hanako had no qualms about defying him, she wondered at Kiyoshi’s plans. Obviously, he intended to make her his bride again and this time more force might be used to get her to the altar, as well as the marriage bed. Tadao would do whatever it took to aid him. Hanako had to doubt of that.

Repressing a shudder, Hanako moved on to a third door, grateful to find it unlocked. Oh, why had she gone and told such a blatant lie? Not only was she unmarried, she was not even betrothed. She had not even danced with a single man at the ball before Kiyoshi appeared. Hanako hardly ever did. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d exchanged flirtatious glances with a man. She certainly had never been intimate with one.

At a loss for what to do, Hanako retreated into what appeared to be the king’s study, deciding to use the time alone as a chance to think and come up with some kind of plan.

That was when she heard the movement of another person in the room. Resisting the urge to reach for her hidden dagger, Hanako whirled and searched the room with frantic eyes. They came to rest on the man that had been staring at her earlier from across the ballroom.

Lord Garrick Overton.

He was staring at her now as he always did, with hunger and curiosity in his eyes, as if she was some great mystery that needed solving. Hanako felt her heart hammering and her pulse throbbing against her throat as she stared back at him.

Lord Overton was tall, at least five or six inches taller than her, with legs that seemed to go on forever. He was slender, but wiry and fit with a form that suggested he spent his time doing something physical when not seated in the Hall of the High Council. Dark blond hair was cropped close to his head in a style what went against what was fashionable, but Hanako found it suited his angular features. Blue eyes were sharp and assessing, fading to a pale gray just a bit at the center, framed with fair lashes beneath beautifully arching eyebrows. His lips were full and pouting; his chin sporting a shallow cleft that lent his features a rugged air along with the light dusting of stubble sprinkling his jaw. His form was flattered by nude-colored breeches and a form-fitting waistcoat of black and gold brocade. A black cravat was tied in a clean and simple style at his throat and jewels glinted at his hands and against the dark fabric of the necktie.

As their eyes locked an idea began to form in Hanako’s mind. While she had never been of a mind to wed—she’d enjoyed her freedom too much after running away from home—it seemed that there was no avoiding it now. She was not well acquainted with Lord Overton but knew him to be a kind and fair sort of man, as well as generous.

His eyes lit with concern as he asked her what was wrong and Hanako felt the last few details of her plan falling blessedly into place. Without second thought, she launched herself against Garrick’s body, grasping the lapels of his waistcoat tightly. His body reacted instantly, hardening against her with a swiftness that left her breathless. As he stared down at her, anticipation flickering in his gaze, Hanako pulled him down toward her and murmured the first words that came to mind.

“Kiss me.”

Chapter 3

Her lips were the softest he’d ever felt and the sweetest he’d ever tasted. The mingling of some sweet confectionary treat mingled with champagne on her tongue and her plump lips melded with his perfectly. Garrick shivered, his body awakened by feelings he’d thought buried with Kathy. He wrapped his arms around Hanako, lifting her a few inches from the ground so that the small mounds of her breasts pressed into his chest. He brought her against the wall, pressing her body against it with his own and groaning at the satisfaction he found at resting his hard thighs against her soft ones.

He didn’t know why she was here, why she had asked him to kiss her or why she was kissing him back. What Garrick did know, was that if Lady Kiyomi had taken leave of her senses, Garrick hoped she never found them again. Need shot through him and straight to his loins and the unmistakable response that followed pressed against the apex of her thighs with rampant virility.

Her tongue was hesitant at first, but as he coaxed it with his, she melted into him in a spine-tingling melding of flesh. Garrick held on tight as he whirled toward the nearest chair—the one with his jacket thrown over the back—and sat her in it. Her feet didn’t even touch the floor, so small was her stature but Garrick was not fooled. He knew the underlying strength that this woman possessed and knowing that it was there only made him want her more. He sank to his knees in front of the chair, now eye level with Hanako as she leaned toward him, her eyelids lowered over unfocused eyes, her lips parted and slick from his kisses.

He grasped her face between his hands and pulled her in again, groaning at the bolt of white-hot lightning that struck him at the touch of her mouth to his. Garrick’s fingers crept up to her hair and the smell of flowers assaulted his senses as he crushed the delicate blossoms in his hands. The fragrance mingled with that of her perfume in a combination that left Garrick longing to strip the gown from her body and explore her hidden charms. He had almost decided to do just that when a sound in the doorway alerted him to the presence of another in the room.

He shot to his feet to find King Serge, Queen Isabelle, and a stranger with looks similar to Hanako, standing in the doorway. Queen Isabelle’s expression was one of shock, King Serge’s one of amusement and the strange man’s one of disgust and anger.

Garrick took a deep breath and tried to calm to raging of his blood. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and while his mind screamed that the situation was totally inappropriate, his body wanted nothing more than to finish what Lady Kiyomi had started.

“Pardon us,” Serge said, his lips quivering with mirth. “I did not realize we were intruding.”

“That’s quite all right,” Hanako said a she stood, her shoulders squared with dignified grace. Garrick flinched when she approached and placed her hand on his arm. Her touch seared him to the core, burning through the fabric of his linen shirt. He suffered the contact in silence, uncertain of Lady Kiyomi’s intent, but more than aware of the malicious glint in the strange Oriental man’s eyes.

“My husband and I were just having…a very important discussion.”

Garrick’s eyes widened as he glanced down at Hanako to find her expression neutral and void of all emotion. Isabelle gasped, Serge frowned and the stranger’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Husband?” Queen Isabelle’s voice was a high squeak. “Hanako, what are you talking about?”

Lady Kiyomi’s fingernails dug into his arm and Garrick heard the desperation in her voice the minute she started talking.

“I am so sorry for not informing you sooner,” she said, a slight smile pulling at her lips. “It is just that Lord Overton and I wanted more time together before announcing our marriage. So much has happened and all we really wanted was some time alone together to become accustomed to married life. We had every intention of telling you soon.”

“But how? When?” Isabelle’s face contorted in confusion as she glanced back and forth between the two.

“I believe I’ll answer that one, darling,” Garrick spoke up, patting Lady Kiyomi’s hand like an affectionate husband. Hanako’s eyes widened in surprise as they met his. Obviously, she had not expected him to go along with her scheme so readily. He wasn’t even sure why he was but she remained silent as he continued.

“I announced my affection for Hanako just before your journey to Martinique. Not long after you returned, she and I decided to marry secretly. It was my decision to keep the marriage  quiet for awhile, so you mustn’t place the blame upon her Your Majesty.”

“No one is blaming anyone for anything,” Serge said calmly, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders and effectively smoothing the wrinkling between her eyebrows. “We are just shocked, that’s all. Congratulations are in order and perhaps a celebration ball?”

Isabelle’s eyes lit up at his suggestion and she raced forward to embrace Hanako.

“Oh this is so exciting! Is two weeks long enough for me to make plans? Oh, I just don’t want to keep it a secret any longer. Now we are all married and…”

The queen burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. Serge chuckled, enfolding his wife into his arms.

“Don’t mind her; she’s just a bit emotional. The baby does that to her. We will leave you to…erm…finish whatever it is that you were doing. Overton, we’ll discuss that other matter in the morning if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Hanako visibly deflated as the door closed behind the three and Garrick stood back and gave her the space to collect herself. The depressing slump of her shoulders worried him and he inexplicably felt the need to pull her into his arms and kiss away her daunted expression. He folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her as she turned to face him.

“All right then,” he said calmly, “let’s have it. The truth please and quickly so that we may get to the business of getting married.”

“You mean…you’ll do it?”

Garrick’s eyebrows shot up at her confused expression. “Well, it would seem that you are in need of a husband and that you had me in mind when you threw yourself at me a moment ago. Protocol demands that I propose to you but unusual circumstances call for unusual solutions. Shall I assume it has something to do with that mysterious gentleman with the sour expression?”

“Yes,” she sighed, moving over to the sideboard. She filled a clean glass with sherry and downed it in a single gulp. “I am so very sorry to have involved you in all of this, Lord Overton.”

“Garrick.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Garrick. My name. I would appreciate you using it, especially if you intend to make good on your bluff.”

Her cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink that spread over her neck. “Of course, Garrick. That man you saw with the king and queen is Kiyoshi Taka and he is my countryman. Before I came to Barony our parents arranged a marriage between us.”

“I take it you left him standing at the altar and he is now hell-bent on getting you back?”

Hanako cleared her throat and lowered her eyes. “Not entirely. I married him, but drugged his sake before he could consummate the union. The next day I boarded a ship and eventually made my way here.”

Garrick was glad he’d already finished his port or he would have choked. Laughter pulled at the corners of his mouth as he eyed the defiant little spitfire through new eyes.

“I can see how that might be upsetting.”

Hanako turned on him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “This is no laughing matter. Kiyoshi plans to inform my family of my whereabouts and who knows what else he’s got up his sleeve? In a moment of desperation, I told him that I was already re-married. The law in my country gives a man one year to consummate his marriage before it is considered void.”

“It is the same here. So what you need is someone to play your groom and send this Kiyoshi fellow packing.”

Hanako nodded, turning her hopeful eyes up to him. “Yes and I need it to be authentic. Should my parents decide to make the journey here, I need them to believe that I am truly wed.”

Garrick stroked his stubbled chin and studied Hanako carefully. He couldn’t deny his attraction to her; it was something he had been feeling since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Her kiss had done nothing more than exacerbate his want, turning it into a searing hot need. What better way than to access the very thing he desired than by marrying the woman? He knew that remarrying was inevitable and if his son’s health continued to decline, another heir would be needed. Garrick hated to think of his situation so matter-of-factly, but he had been avoiding it long enough.

As he glanced down into Hanako’s wide, fathomless eyes, he wondered just how long it could take a man to unlock the secrets stored there. She was a mystery for sure, one that he wouldn’t mind taking a lifetime to understand. He took a step toward her and grasped her arms gently.

“I’ll do it.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly?”

“I am a gentleman. I cannot turn down a lady in distress and you, my lady, are definitely in distressed.”

She gave him a small smile, a slight turning up of her full lips, and nodded.

“I could never thank you enough. Gentleman or not, I do not know of many men who would do such a thing for a virtual stranger.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other now, don’t we?”

****

She couldn’t believe how quickly everything had happened. It was now five in the morning and Hanako sat across from Garrick in his spacious carriage, his grandmother’s sparkling wedding ring on her finger. When he’d insisted on stopping off at his home to retrieve the ring, Hanako had protested. After all, their engagement, if one could call it that, had been quite short and forced. She felt guilty over accepting such a precious family heirloom but Garrick had insisted, stating that in order for their marriage to appear authentic, she should be seen wearing his grandmother’s ring.

So she’d accepted it, they re-entered the carriage and rode for an hour to the village of Ulas, where Garrick preceded to use his weight as a member of the High Council to coax a sleeping bishop from his bed. After reminding them that the situation was highly irregular and mumbling about Garrick’s impatience, the priest agreed to marry them right away. The ceremony had been quick, with two witnesses borrowed from a tavern and was over before Hanako could even blink. Garrick placed the sapphire ring on her finger and gave her a plain gold band to place on his. His kiss was swift and chaste, all of the heat that had been present in the darkened study was now gone.

Once back inside the carriage, Hanako couldn’t stop staring at the ring and marveling at this new turn of her fate. It was like an iron shackle on her finger and Hanako felt panicked at the sight of it.

“I should probably come to retrieve you in the morning,” Garrick said, his voice a soft rumble in the darkened interior of the carriage. “We should come up with some sort of strategy and align our stories; how we met, fell in love, personal details, that sort of thing. We should also discuss our…living arrangement.”

“It seems that you’ve given more thought to this than I have,” Hanako admitted, embarrassed. When she’d told Kiyoshi she was married, she had only been thinking of that moment and getting away from him. Now she was legally bound in marriage to a man she had exchanged a few glances with over the years. Yes, the glances had been heated and quite prolonged, but that mattered little when she barely remembered the man’s first name hours earlier.

The carriage ground to a halt in front of Stonevale and the driver jumped down from his seat to open the door. Garrick stepped down first and gave Hanako a hand down before walking her up the stone steps to the imposing door.

“Is eight o’clock too early?”

“I am accustomed to rising before the sun,” she answered. “Eight o’clock would be fine.”

Silence fell between them and Hanako found herself fiddling with the drawstring on her reticule. She hardly knew what to say or do right then. Courtesy dictated an apology for the disruption of his life, as well as a ‘thank-you’ for his heroic actions. Yet the words seemed stuck to Hanako’s tongue, which felt as if it had been glued to the roof of her mouth. She could only stare up at him, sweeping her eyes over sparkling blue eyes and the full, pouting lips that had captured hers earlier.

Garrick’s hand came out to take hers and his lips brushed the back of it. Her gloves had been long removed and stuffed into her reticule and she could now feel the brush of his mouth against her bare skin. The stubble on his face stickled and his soft lips soothed. Tremors rippled along her arm, resounding loudly in her breast.

“I can see that you are still distressed, but there is no need to worry. We’ve taken care of the marriage part. The rest can wait until tomorrow, yes?”

Calmed by his gentle tone and soft caress of his thumb against her wrist, Hanako nodded.

“Yes and if I haven’t already thanked you…well, thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Until tomorrow, Lady Overton.”

Hanako felt her heart hammering against her ribs as she turned and let herself inside. She stood at one of the tall windows in the foyer, watching as Garrick leaped into the carriage. Lady Overton. Yes, that was her name now and all because of a desperate lie. As she turned to retire for the night, Hanako felt the shifting of her entire world around her.

Somewhere deep inside, despite Garrick’s assurances that everything would be fine, Hanako knew that nothing would ever be the same in her well-ordered life.

Chapter 4

When the housekeeper escorted Garrick into the dining room, Hanako was already seated at the massive dining room table, cup of tea in hand. The high-backed chair nearly swallowed her up and the massive furnishings in the room made her appear smaller than ever. However, the impact of her presence was not diminished in the least.

She sat, her back straight, dressed in an attractive riding habit with her hair freshly washed and gleaming down to her chin in a sleek, straight curtain that framed her face. Hanako nodded in acknowledgement as he took a seat to her left and accepted the footman’s offer of tea.

“Would you care for breakfast?” she asked. “I could have Mrs. Cunningham prepare something for you.”

Garrick shook his head and stirred two cubes of sugar and a dollop of milk into his tea. “No, thank you, tea is fine.”

He sipped slowly and watched her as she drained her cup and sat it back in the saucer, her movements refined. Garrick wondered if she had been part of the nobility in Japan. Her air of superiority certainly suggested it.

“I suppose we may as well get at it. I have a meeting with the king this afternoon and I’d like to see you settled at Willow Cross.”

She nodded but was otherwise silent. Garrick cleared his throat and continued.

“I am aware that you have responsibilities that come with Stonevale, as well as the ladies regiment in Gladstone. I want you to know that as your husband, I do not intend to stand in the way of your interests.”

Hanako raised one raven black brow at him and smirked. “I would certainly hope not, my lord.”

“Please, I wish that you would use my name. You are my wife now and as such, I would think that we should address each other as if we are more than mere acquaintances. Especially if we are to convince people that this is a love match.”

“I do not understand why we must provide that illusion.”

Garrick’s mouth tightened in annoyance. “Pardon me, but are you not out to convince your jilted husband that this marriage is real? If so, then it would stand to reason that presenting a secret marriage would go over best if we play the role of people in love. How else would be explain that we’ve been married for weeks and kept it hidden?”

He had expected his response to fluster her, to make her contrite for her interrupting him. Instead, she merely stared at him, unruffled, her expression as neutral as it had been upon his arrival.

“I suppose you are right,” she said. “Please, go on.”

“I was thinking that it would be best for you to come to Willow Cross, at least for the time being. It would also help for us to be seen together as much as possible. I know that you lead a quiet life and do not attend many soirees, but as a member of the High Council I am expected to. It is not necessary for you to attend all of these functions with me, but I would hope you could accompany me to some. In fact, I think it would only help you to accompany me as much as possible while Kiyoshi is in Barony. The more he sees us together, the better. Perhaps if we play our part well enough, he will become convinced and leave you alone.”

“I will certainly try, though I must warn you that training the new recruits often goes late into the night.”

“Understandable. I’m sure that we will be able to work around it.”

“Once again, I cannot tell you how much—”

“Hanako, there is no need to thank me again.  I have been thinking of remarrying for some time now and to be honest was not looking forward to having to woo some courtier’s, young, spoiled daughter.”

“Remarry? You’ve been married before?”

Garrick felt the familiar sadness that always gripped his heart when he thought of Kathy. He tried to avoid talking about her whenever possible.

“I’m sorry, I thought that you knew. Yes, I am a widower.”

“My condolences.”

She reached across the table and placed a small hand on his. He smiled gratefully.

“There is also my son, Kendrick.”

Hanako’s eyes widened. “A son? You certainly are full of surprises.”

“Kendrick is seven years old, but the doctors do not seem to think he will live another year. You can meet him when we arrive, but you may not encounter him much as he spends all of his time in bed.”

Garrick looked away from her empathic stare and cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, I believe that is all we need to worry about for now. I will wait for you to pack your things and then we can be off.”

“I packed this morning. I was anticipating your wanting me to join you at Willow Cross.”

“I like a woman who comes prepared.”

Hanako smiled and stood, moving across the room to the bell cord, which she pulled gracefully. Mrs. Cunningham appeared almost immediately.

“Mrs. Cunningham, please have Lord Overton’s carriage brought around and instruct John to have my belongings brought to the front steps. Thank you.”

When the housekeeper had left them, Garrick stood and joined her near the door.

“What do your servants think of your sudden marriage?”

Hanako shrugged. “There are only four of them and they tend to keep to themselves. I am certain they think me odd.”

Garrick laughed. “You are very fortunate. There are over one hundred servants at Willow Cross and every one of them loves to gossip. You and I must endeavor to present a united front so that they won’t have anything to talk about.”

Hanako nodded. “I hope that I am up to the task.”

Garrick extended his arm to his bride and she placed her hand upon his elbow, allowing him to lead her to the foyer. He left her in a chair near the door as he assisted the footman and his driver with loading Hanako’s trunk and smaller bags onto the top of the conveyance.

Within minutes, he had handed his wife up into the carriage and was speeding off toward home.

****

Hours later, Hanako was settled into the mistress’ suite at Willow Cross. As her newly assigned lady’s maid closed the door to her dressing room, Hanako turned in a slow circle to study her surroundings. The room was larger than the one she inhabited at Stonevale, and opulently furnished in shades of blue, cream, and silver. The mahogany paneled walls were rich and dark, gleaming as if recently polished. They were a match for the immense bed sporting tall pillars that stretched up to the ceiling and held blue curtains tied back by silver tassels. The matching duvet was turned back invitingly and the coordinated drapes thrown back to the afternoon sunlight.

In the corner was a screen concealing the commode and washstand. On the opposite side of the room, between two floor to ceiling windows was a small round table draped with a silver cloth and blue lace overlay, set with two comfortable chairs. A door against the wall across from the bed connected her suite to Garrick’s and another door beside it gave her entrance to her dressing room. The room meant to store her clothing was not even half-filled, as Hanako did not own many gowns and spent most of her time at the compound in Gladstone dressed in breeches and armor. This would be rectified, her new maid her told her as she hung Hanako’s meager wardrobe in the dressing room. Apparently, Lord Overton had every intention of supplying a trousseau to his wife.

Hanako frowned as the maid vacated the room. She certainly did not need anyone to buy her new gowns and reminded herself to tell Garrick this when next she saw him. It would have to wait until he returned from his meeting at Guthrie Hall, so for now she contented herself with removing her jacket and splashing her hands and face with cool water before going in search of the housekeeper. The woman had asked Hanako to come and find her whenever she was ready for a tour of the grounds.

She found the housekeeper, Mrs. Mansfield, in the foyer arranging a vase full of freshly cut blossoms. The tall, willowy woman was dressed in black from head to toe and her white hair was slicked up into a tight bun. Her hair was the only hint at her age, as the woman’s face was amazing smooth and free of wrinkles. When Garrick introduced them, he told Hanako that Mrs. Mansfield had been serving at Willow Cross since he was a boy. She had to be old enough to be Hanako’s mother.

She gave a small smile and a nod of her head as Hanako approached.

“My lady,” she said as she stood back and admired her arrangement proudly. “What do you think? Too much?”

Hanako glanced at the arrangement. “It’s lovely,” she answered demurely. “I was hoping you weren’t too busy for that tour. Willow Cross is easily three times the size of Stonevale and I must admit to getting lost at least three times on my way to find you.”

Mrs. Mansfield chuckled and removed a large ring of keys from her skirt pocket.

“You’ll grow accustomed to it,” she said. “Now is actually the perfect time, as I am just about to make my rounds. Must keep the servants on their toes, Lord Overton is a stickler for cleanliness, what with Master Kendrick being so prone to illness and all.”

Hanako noticed the pinched sadness on the housekeeper’s face as she spoke of Garrick’s son. Not wanting to pry on her first day at Willow Cross, Hanako remained silent and followed Mrs. Mansfield. The tour took almost two hours as the housekeeper showed Hanako the dining rooms, sitting rooms, music room, ball room, library and solarium. A trip around the outer premises consisted of a stable full of horses, a flower garden as well as an herb and vegetable garden and the family cemetery. As they walked past the gated graveyard, Hanako paused, her eyes locking on one particular headstone.

Mrs. Mansfield stopped before her and sighed as Hanako read the name aloud.

“Katherine Josephine Overton.”

“A beautiful soul, that one was. So tragic, her death.”

Overcome by curiosity, Hanako gave in and asked the question that had been burning in her mind ever since Garrick had revealed his status as a widower.

“How did she die?”

“A disease of the lungs, the poor dear. She was sick for most of her life, but Garrick didn’t care. He loved her, right up until the end. The sickness must have been in her blood because she passed it on the Master Kendrick. He suffers the same ailments, although he seems to be in a lesser state. I dare not say such a thing in my lord’s presence, but I suspect it is because the boy is kept in bed almost constantly. Lord Garrick fears the boy’s death and hopes to prolong his life by keeping him cosseted.”

“Garrick says the doctors predict he will not live to see another year.”

Mrs. Mansfield shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “Lord help us, but I suspect they’re right. He grows worse by the day, the poor lad. I try to visit him as much as I can, as business with the High Council keeps Lord Overton quite busy. Perhaps you’d like to meet him.”

Hanako’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head. She had never much liked children, and the thought of being in the company of a sick one was not very appealing.

“No, he should rest,” Hanako said as the two made their way back toward the house. “Perhaps later today.”

“Of course.”

As they entered the house, they found Ava, Mudiwa, and Nell standing in the foyer, speaking with the butler. The three turned and greeted Hanako as they approached. They were all dressed in their customary breeches and boots and Hanako guessed they had just arrived from Gladstone.

“We’ve come to see for ourselves that the rumors are true,” Nell said as she gaped around her in open-mouthed wonder. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Ava grasped Hanako’s hand and studied the glittering sapphire there with amazement. “How? When?”

Her confusion was echoed in the eyes of the others and Hanako grimaced inwardly. If anyone knew that her ‘courtship’ with Garrick was a lie, it would be these three women. She had hardly been away from Gladstone since their return to Barony and wouldn’t have been able to keep anything from them. Hanako supposed they deserved an explanation; the truth. Honestly, she was looking forward to telling them. The weight of her new life was bearing down on her with excruciating heaviness. She knew that she had yet to discover the full weight of what she’d done. Becoming mistress of Willow Cross was going to be a burden as well as a blessing.

“Perhaps you ladies would like to retire to the dining room. The afternoon meal should be ready now and I can have it brought in to us.”

The ladies agreed and within minutes they were seated at the table in the more intimate family dining room with platters of steaming food between them. Hanako preferred to pass the platters around the table over having to stand and walk over to the sideboard. Once the ladies’ plates and cups were filled and they were alone in the room, all eyes were upon her.

“What is this all about, Hanako?” Ava asked the minute they were alone. “I happen to know that you have met Lord Overton no more than three times in the years since you’ve been here and have not had time to be courted by anyone. What has happened that you felt you needed to marry so quickly and secretly?”

Hanako sighed and took a sip of wine before setting her glass back on the table. She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her middle.

“You must promise not to tell anyone, especially not Isabelle. I don’t want to worry her.”

Each woman nodded and waited silent for Hanako to continue. She quickly spilled out the story of the night before, telling them all of her chilling encounter with Kiyoshi but leaving out the details of her and Garrick’s heated kiss. When she was finished, her friends’ faces were fixed in stares of shock and dismay.

“Are you certain that marriage to a stranger is the right thing to do?” Mudiwa asked once Hanako had finished. “It may serve to make Kiyoshi even angrier. A man like that won’t take your outsmarting him lying down.”

“She’s right,” Ava said, her mouth drawn into a frown. “And what of your husband? What kind of man marries a stranger?”

“The kind of man that rescues damsels in distress apparently,” Hanako said with a shrug. The words left her cheeks feeling warm, despite her efforts to ignore the sensation of giddiness. “Besides, he needed to marry again. His first wife died of an illness years ago.”

“How sad,” Nell said. “I suppose he’ll need an heir as well.”

Hanako’s eyes widened and her mind reeled at the possibility. “But…but he has a son from his first wife. Kendrick.”

“I’ve heard the boy is not in the best of health,” Ava remarked. “Most likely he will die and Lord Overton will be left without an heir.”

A smirk pulled at the corners of Ava’s mouth. “He is most assuredly expecting you to provide that heir, Hanako.”

Hanako shot to her feet, her throat constricting as if a noose had settled around her neck.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Of course we do,” Mudiwa said with a shrug. “It is the same in all cultures, Hanako. Men want sons to carry on their names and women who cannot provide them are shamed. Your husband is a lord of the royal court and has vast holdings and wealth. He will need someone to pass them on to.”

“Are you telling us that you did not think of this when coming up with your harebrained scheme?” Ava asked, incredulous.

“Of course she didn’t,” Nell said with a shake of her head. “She thought only of escaping Kiyoshi. Hanako, you must think of this marriage as a permanent arrangement, not a temporary one. Surely your husband is.”

Hanako hooked her finger in the collar of her blouse and pulled, certain that the high neck would cut off her air supply at any moment. Mudiwa stood and grasped her shoulders, forcing Hanako to look up into her eyes. The towering African woman was probably Hanako’s closest friend. Both foreigners in Barony, the women had forged a bond based on the similarities of their pasts. Mudiwa’s chocolate brown eyes were now filled with pity as she stared down at her friend.

“You are tied to this man for life, Hanako and he will desire a child or two from you. Even if he did not, reproduction is inevitable in a marriage. Children will come.”

Hanako sighed and lowered her eyes. “Not if our marriage is in name only.”

“I’m sorry, have you not laid eyes on Garrick Overton?” Ava asked with a chuckle. “He is young, handsome, and virile, and he’s been watching you for years. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. He wants you, Hanako, and as your husband he now has every right to your body.”

“I am property of no one,” Hanako spat, brushing Mudiwa’s hands aside. “And I shall tell him so at first opportunity. If I give of my body to him, it will be of my own free will and not for the mere production of a son. I am not a broodmare.”

“No, but you are the wife of a rich and titled man,” Nell pointed out. “You are his now whether you want to be or not. In an effort to avoid Kiyoshi’s prison, you have just locked yourself in another one, my friend.”

“You do not see marriage as imprisonment,” Hanako challenged, her eyes meeting each one of theirs in turn. It was true. If anything, marriage had put a happy glow in her friends’ cheeks.

“Yes, but we love our husbands,” Ava challenged with a raised brow. “You cannot say the same and have not even spoken with yours about your expectations. This has disaster written all over it, Hanako.”

“Not yet it doesn’t,” Hanako said, her chin high. “I intended to have that very conversation with him this evening, if you must know. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have just a few hours of meditation ahead of me before dinner. I will see you all first thing in the morning for training.”

Dismissed, her friends rose to leave. Mudiwa paused in the doorway of the dining room once Nell and Ava were gone.

“I understand the feeling of wanting to run from one’s past,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “But wed to Lord Overton or not, you will have to answer for running away. In my own way, I’ve had to deal with the things that have happened because of my actions. There is no escaping it, Hanako.”

With that final warning, Mudiwa was gone as well. Hanako closed the dining room door and sank back down into her seat at the head of the table. She poked at the remains of her lunch with her fork but found that she was not hungry anymore. She was also too restless for meditation, which she had been looking forward to earlier.

Instead, she retreated to her room where she quickly changed into comfortable breeches, shirt, waistcoat and boots. Perhaps some exercise before dinner would stoke her appetite and clear her head. She would need it clear for the conversation ahead.

Chapter 5

Garrick leaped down from his horse and tossed the reigns to a nearby groom. He removed his riding gloves as he walked, moving at a brisk pace toward Willow Cross. His long legs ate up the distance between the stable and the house and Garrick moved swiftly, his blood humming with anticipation.

He had not been able to concentrate during his meeting with King Serge. Luckily, his king and friend, had noticed Garrick’s distraction.

“Go home, Lord Overton,” he’d said with a chuckle. “I won’t have it said that I kept a newlywed man from his blushing bride. I am certain business with the High Council will commence just fine without you for a few days. Take some time to become better acquainted with your wife.”

Garrick took the offer without hesitation and took off for the half hour ride to Willow Cross as fast as his stallion would take him. Ever since he’d left Hanako in the care of his housekeeper, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her or their kiss in King Serge’s study. Damn, but her lips had been entirely too soft, the sort of lips that could make a man lose control of his senses. He remembered clearly the feel of her lithe body pressed against him, willowy and delicate with femininity.

He entered the house and handed his gloves and morning coat off to Ames, the butler, and continued down the hall toward his chambers and Hanako’s. His mouth practically watered as he thought of his bride, stripped naked and spread across his bed. His gut clenched and his blood hummed even faster and hotter through him. There hadn’t been many women since Kathy and he was starved for sexual release. The fact that it was Hanako that would be providing it made it all the sweeter.

He breezed past his own door and halted in front of hers, listening for sound behind it before knocking. A few seconds later, she appeared in the frame of the door, dressed in men’s clothing and dusty boots. Her cheeks were windblown and pink as if she’d just come from riding.

“Garrick,” she said, her voice strained as if she’d had the breath knocked from her lungs.

He wondered if she knew that this was exactly how he felt.

“I was just coming to look for you,” Hanako said as he leaned against the doorframe. Was it his imagination or were her cheeks going from pink to red? Garrick smiled.

“A stunning coincidence, I was just coming to find you.”

Hanako fell silent as he stepped into the room. As the door closed behind him, she flinched visibly, her eyes wide with uncertainty as he came toward her. Garrick grasped her face gently in his hands before bending down to kiss her.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he confessed before swooping in for another kiss. This time her mouth opened to him and he swept inside with this tongue. The contact did little to assuage his desire. If anything, it only caused it swell to insurmountable proportions.

“We should talk,” she said breathlessly when he had pulled away. Garrick’s eyes traveled down to the vee of smooth, white skin revealed by the undone top buttons of her shirt. His mouth went dry.

“Later,” he murmured before dipping his head toward the revealed skin. She shuddered beneath his touch as his lips skimmed over her chest and up to her throat.

“Our wedding was not exactly proper and there was no actual wedding night, a fact that I deeply regret,” he said. His hands spanned her waist as he sank against her body. “I’d like to make it up to you right now.”

Where she had been pliant and loose a moment before, Hanako’s body became instantly stiff.

“Garrick, please, it is very important that we have this conversation.”

Garrick gazed down into cold, dark eyes and frowned. What could have happened to displease her in such a short time? He made a note to ensure that Mrs. Mansfield reminded the staff that Hanako was their lady now. Anyone who caused her any undue stress would be immediately terminated. He wanted his bride to feel at home at Willow Cross.

“Has something happened? I wouldn’t wish for your first day here to be lonely or intimidating. I’m here now and anything that you need will be yours if you but ask. You are lady here now, Hanako.”

Hanako shook her head and pulled out of the circle of his arms, her shoulders straight, her spine erect. The untouchable woman he’d first laid eyes on was back and Garrick was not sure that he liked what that meant for him.

“It has come to my attention today that you and I have neglected to discuss the finer details of our…arrangement.”

“You mean marriage,” he corrected.

She inclined her head in acquiescence. “Yes, well…I think we should take the time to discuss those things now, don’t you?”

The raging erection in his trousers disagreed, but Garrick’s barely-functioning brain overruled it. He could see her point. Everything had been so rushed, what with revenge-bent jilted husbands coming to call. If it would put her mind at ease, Garrick would have the conversation with her gladly. He gestured toward the small table and chairs near two large windows.

“Shall we sit?”

Hanako nodded and turned toward the table. Once seated, she folded her hands in front of her and glanced up at him. Garrick leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs in a more relaxed pose.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I began to realize after you’d left, that perhaps you expect certain…things from me as your wife. I thought it best to discuss your expectations and which of them I will and won’t be meeting as soon as possible. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding concerning what our arrangement will entail.”

Garrick chafed at her calling their marriage an ‘arrangement’ for the second time. The manner in which she was approaching this conversation made his blood run cold and his jaw tightened in aggravation.

“I know that you are already in possession of an heir.”

She paused and Garrick leaned forward against the table. “Yes.”

“You mentioned an illness and a dire prognosis as well and I know that all men of your status wish heirs to carry on their name.”

“Naturally.”

Irritation flashed in her eyes and she arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you think it my duty to provide you with another son?”

Garrick started, overwhelmed by both her brusqueness and her gall. What on earth could she be getting at?

“I do not think it your duty, Hanako, but it would certainly be a pleasure. Speaking of pleasure, children tend to be the end result of making love, which married people indulge in frequently.”

Her nostrils flared and her mouth tightened. Garrick noticed that her knuckles had gone white where her hands were clenched together.

“Perhaps I should have informed you before that I have no intention of becoming your personal broodmare. I do not desire to have children.”

Garrick was taken aback. He had never known a woman that didn’t want children.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s really quite simple, Garrick. I like my life the way it is. I am free to come and go as I please and I have no intention of changing my habits because we are married. You stated this morning that you would not come between me and my ambitions—”

“When it comes to your duties to Barony!” Garrick exclaimed, shooting to his feet. His chair tumbled over behind him, but he ignored the fallen furniture. His eyes pierced Hanako as she stood as well, slowly, calmly.

“This is something entirely different,” he continued, curling his fists against the table and leaning toward her. “This is something that we can discuss, rationally, when you’re ready. We do not have to have children right away. There are ways—”

“Perhaps you did not understand me. I do not wish to have children now. I do not wish to have children ever. In fact, in order to avoid such an eventuality, I think it best that we remain husband and wife in name only.”

Garrick’s hands shook to strike something, so great was his anger, but he held them in check at his sides.

“Let me ensure that I understand what you are saying,” he said, his voice low and shaky. “Not only are you dictating the terms of our marriage, a marriage that you initiated, by the way, but you are also barring me from my rights as your husband?”

“I was not aware that being your wife made me subject to your unwanted attentions.”

Garrick’s lips twitched with laughter as he stepped around the table toward her. She stiffed when his hand came out to stroke her silky-straight hair.

“I doubt it would be unwanted,” Garrick murmured, enjoying the discomfort he knew he was causing by touching her. “Don’t think that I have forgotten our kiss the night we married.”

Hanako jerked away from his touch, still as calm and collected as she had been earlier. How on earth was she managing such composure? Garrick’s insides were a raging storm and he knew that she could see it. Anger mingled with desire and confusion, a potent mix.

“You should,” she said. “I do not intend for it to happen again. This is a marriage of convenience, Garrick. I need a shield against Kyoshi and Willow Cross needs a mistress.”

“In a few months time, it might also need an heir,” he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. His heart ached even as he said the words. “I understand if you are afraid of childbirth or of engaging in sex for the first time because of the pain but...”

“Pain?” she scoffed, her laughter dry and humorless. “I do not fear physical discomfort. I am a soldier, in case you have forgotten, one that has seen many battles.”

“Then what do you fear, Hanako?”

His question seemed to stun her and she fell silent. Finally, a flicker of emotion in her eyes before she quickly lowered her eyelids over them. Garrick nodded.

“I see that you do not plan to tell me, just as you neglected to tell me your stance on childbearing and intimacy.”

“It was not intentional. There was no time.”

Garrick tore his eyes away from her and gazed out the window, his jaw working angrily as he fought to control his fury. He decided that it would be best to quit the room before he did or said something he would regret.

“You are my wife,” he said. “I saved you from Kiyoshi, did you a favor, and now you intend to withhold yourself from me.”

Hanako shrugged. “If you choose to see it that way, Garrick, that is not my problem. I will still uphold my other duties as your wife, as it will also benefit me to do so. I see no reason why we cannot be friends and get to know each other as such. There is no reason that we cannot be content this way.”

Garrick squeezed his eyes shut and for a moment, Kathy’s image swam before his eyes. With her, he had been more than content. With her, he had been happy and he missed that happiness. He’d been hoping for the same with Hanako, hoping that her icy exterior would be stripped away as he came to know her. Now he wondered if she wasn’t made of ice through and through.

“Very well,” he said, turning his back to leave. “But do not choose to change your mind when I start seeking my pleasure elsewhere. A man has his needs, after all.”

****

Hanako stared down into her soup bowl, stirring at the broth with her spoon. Her stomach still rebelled at the idea of food, but she didn’t want to insult the cook her first night at Willow Cross, so she tried to eat at least half of the bowl before allowing a footman to take it away.

Tonight she dined alone. A servant had informed her that Garrick was taking dinner with his son in the boy’s chambers. Hanako didn’t know what to anticipate, but she certainly hadn’t expected to have dinner alone her first night in her new home. While she knew that Garrick had been angry with her at first, she had hoped that he would begin to see reason after having time to cool off.

What was so wrong with wanting quiet contentment? It was all she’d ever wanted out of life, why she had avoided marriage to Kiyoshi. When she wasn’t at battle, Hanako wanted peace and calm around her and passionate emotion just wasn’t part of that ideal for her. From what she had seen, those feelings only made women slaves to the men they loved and Hanako refused to place herself in shackles. She had watched her mother go about life as her father’s footstool and it had sickened her. Watching Aiko’s youth, beauty, and strength fade year after year had resolved her. Marriage, love, children…these things were not for her.

Well, the marriage part had been unavoidable, but it didn’t have to be complicated. At least, Hanako hadn’t thought it would be. Why had she thought that a man would value her frank and honest nature? She had been so sure that Garrick would appreciate her freeing him from the emotional constraints of coddling a needy wife.

She’d thought wrong.

Do not choose to change your mind when I start seeking my pleasure elsewhere.

Garrick’s last words to her were haunting and for reasons Hanako chose to ignore, struck dread within her. It wasn’t as if she wanted him for herself. Why then, did her hands shake at the thought of his lips tangling with those of another woman? She imagined him engaging in the same passionate embrace he’d shared with her with some brothel whore and her stomach turned. Did he always put so much into a single kiss? When they’d been together the night of the ball, Hanako felt as if that kiss had seared her down to the bone and settled into her deepest places. Were his hands always so strong and sure as they caressed a woman’s body? She could remember those hands now; large, long-fingered, slender, and graceful as well as strong. Hanako felt heat pooling low in her belly and she shook her head to clear it of such thoughts.

As much as intimacy with Garrick appealed to her, the consequences repulsed. Knowing that men could use their wives’ affections as a weapon of control and dominance, Hanako could rebel against the notion of intimacy and love without hesitation. All in all, it just wasn’t worth it.

After half an hour of sampling the cook’s offerings and eating as much as she could without making herself sick, Hanako quit the dining room. She was not quite sure what to do with the rest of her evening as it was barely past eight o’clock. Hanako had new recruits to train in the morning and knew that she could be resting up for the next day but she was too restless to go to bed just yet.

She decided to visit the gallery, where Mrs. Mansfield had boasted of beautiful paintings, including family portraits. For lack of anything better to do, Hanako headed in that direction, hoping that the distraction would occupy her for a while. She had made it halfway down the corridor when the sounds of crying and screams assaulted her ears. Hanako paused, searching for the source of distress as well as a servant or nanny. Perhaps it was Kendrick, Garrick’s son. Surely, he was not alone in his room and if he was, someone was nearby to assist the lad. She certainly had no business going into his room.

As Hanako neared the door muffling the cries and shrieks, she began to wonder if the boy was not hurt or ill. If so, shouldn’t she at least make sure he was all right? After only another moment’s hesitation, Hanako closed her hand around the doorknob and slipped inside.

The room was dark, lit only by a single lamp beside the bed. The oversized bed housed the figure of a boy, Kendrick Overton. A pale and narrow face rested against a white pillow. Dark hair was plastered to the boy’s sweating face and his father’s blue eyes peeked out at Hanako above sunken-in cheekbones. His cries had ceased the moment the door opened and Kendrick and Hanako appraised each other silently.

“You must be young Master Kendrick,” she said, frowning at the boy’s sallow complexion and downright feminine features. “Was that your shrieking voice I heard, carrying on like an infant?”

The boy frowned, his pink lips pouting. “I am not an infant.”

“Then why do you persist in carrying on like one? For God’s sake, I heard you halfway down the corridor.”

Kendrick sat up in bed, pushing the heavy counterpane aside to reveal a pristine white nightdress. “It is the only way to get that cow, Minnie’s, attention.”

Hanako smirked. “Oh, I was not aware that you kept a cow for a pet.”

“She’s not a cow, you ninny, she’s my nanny.”

Hanako rushed forward and took the boy’s ear between her fingers, pinching and eliciting a swine-like squeal.

“I’ll not tolerate name calling young sir,” she warned as she released the boy’s ear. “I daresay your father wouldn’t either.”

“He doesn’t care,” he scoffed as he fell back against the pillows. “I am allowed to do whatever I wish because I am dying.”

Hanako rolled her eyes. “That is no reason to speak ill of others, especially your poor nanny whom I assume has her hands full with an arrogant little brute like yourself.”

Tears glistened in Kendrick’s eyes and his bottom lip quivered. “You’re not very nice. I don’t like you.”

Hanako shrugged. “Neither are you and I’m not fond of you either. You’re certainly a whiny little brat aren’t you?”

Kendrick’s hands found his bony hips and his raised his chin. “I’m to be lord of Willow Cross someday.”

“If you live long enough,” she snorted with a laugh. “You’re so tiny and weak you’d probably break in half at a mighty wind.”

“Minnie says I’m strong to have lived as long as I have when the doctor said I wouldn’t see my third birthday, so there!”

His pink tongue appeared between his lips and Hanako couldn’t help but laugh. The boy was full of spirit, if not much else.

“I stand corrected. You’re stronger than you look. Yet I’ve been at Willow Cross all day and have yet to lay eyes on you.”

“Papa says I am to remain in bed so that I do not get sick.”

Hanako edged forward and took a seat at the side of the boy’s bed. She glanced at the various salves, vials and bottles on the boy’s nightstand.

“Aren’t you sick already?”

“I have a disease that causes me to fall ill in my lungs very easily. It is why Papa doesn’t tolerate a speck of dust in the house.”

“Surely you’re allowed to go outdoors.”

“Hardly ever,” Kendrick lamented, pouting down at his yellow and white patterned counterpane. With a conspiratorial grin, he leaned toward Hanako and whispered, “Sometimes Minnie takes me out for a walk in the garden, just the two of us, when Papa’s at court. Promise not to tell.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hanako said, rubbing her chin and pretending to think it over. “I am mistress of Willow Cross now and should not be keeping things from your father.”

Kendrick’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of his secret being betrayed. “Oh please, don’t tell! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?”

“Yes!”

Hanako grinned. “You shall cease your screaming and crying like a little girl. You are much too old to carry on so. You are to be lord of Willow Cross someday.”

Kendrick seemed to think this over for a minute before responding.

“Very well,” he said. “I agree.”

“Good.”

“Perhaps you can take me outside too when Papa’s not here, you being my new mom and all.”

Hanako was taken aback. She reared away from the child, her gut clenching as she realized what had just happened. This motherless child had attached himself to her in the space of a few minutes. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but panic was setting in and she was suddenly gripped with the urge to flee.

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice clipped as she stood to leave. “I must go now but you will remember our agreement, won’t you?”

Kendrick used his index finger to cross his heart. “I swear.”

“Good.”

Hanako turned to escape and found a woman wearing a white maid’s cap and apron running down the hallway.

“Oh my lady!” the girl gasped with a quick curtsy. “I do hope Master Kendrick’s tantrum didn’t disturb you. I shouldn’t have been so long in coming, but I was clear on the other side of the house and had to be fetched by a servant. No one will bother with him save me, due to his bratty nature.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Hanako said to the panting nanny. “You must be Minnie.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll take it from here, don’t you worry. He is probably just a bit lonely and restless.”

Hanako nodded and continued on, allowing the nanny to see to her duty. She reminded herself to steer clear of this side of the house from now on. She didn’t need Garrick’s son forming an attachment to her.

Chapter 6

Garrick had just eased his body between the sheets of the bed when his wife-in-name-only entered the room. He froze, one leg in, one leg out of the bed. From where she stood, Hanako had a full view of his bare arms, chest, hip, and one leg. She gasped and turned her back upon realizing that he was climbing into her bed naked.

“What are you doing?”

Even now her voice was calm. How did she do that, Garrick wondered? He would have to ask her someday.

“Sleeping in our bed. It’s what married people do, by the way.”

“The last time I checked, there was a master suite attached to this one. I was told it belonged to you.”

“It does. But you don’t want servant gossip concerning our state of unconsummated marital bliss to reach Kiyoshi do you? Servants gossip with servants of other households. It would spread like wildfire.”

Hanako turned away from the door. By now, Garrick had settled beneath the sheets and pulled them up to his waist.

“Of course not.”

“Good. There is no need to worry, I won’t ravish you.” He smiled and turned down her side of the bed. “Unless you ask me too.”

Hanako didn’t respond as she crossed to the armoire and retrieved a nightgown.

“I suppose not,” Garrick grumbled as he doused the lamp beside him and burrowed down into the pillow on his side of the bed. He’d hated this bed when Kathy inhabited it and he hated it now. His own bed was much larger and more comfortable, but he knew that getting his wife to bend to his will was going to be an uphill battle. He needed every tool in his arsenal.

It would not be easy. Hanako was a prideful woman and he knew that it would not happen overnight, but he intended to win her over eventually. By night, he would tempt and seduce; by day he would charm and woo. A cat-like smile stretched over his face as he watched the silhouette of her body through the privacy screen. He felt a tightening in his groin at the thought of her naked on the other side. Garrick groaned and turned onto his side, putting Hanako at his back.

He heard her moving from behind the screen on silent feet. Garrick felt the slight dip of the mattress beside him as she slid her slight frame in beside him and the light brushing of satin against his back and her stiffening spine as their bodies made contact. As she pulled away from him, placing as much distance between them as possible, Garrick cursed himself inwardly. His campaign would be to be just as trying on him as it was on her.

It was going to be a long night.

Hanako stared at the sleeping man beside her with unguarded curiosity. The sun had not yet begun its descent over the horizon, but she was already awake. Soon she would have to leave the comfort of her bed and set out for the compound for a day of training. After the turbulent day she’d had yesterday and the even rockier night before it, Hanako was looking forward to a day of physical exercise and time spent with her closest friends.

At the moment, she was having a terribly hard time tearing her eyes away from her husband. Garrick slept next to her peacefully, one arm thrown up over his eyes. Hanako’s gaze moved over his hair-sprinkled jaw and full lips, parted to allow his even breath to pass through. They lingered on his dimpled chin and she felt a tingling urge in her fingertip and she longed to press it there. Down over the thick pillar of his throat her eyes wandered until they came to rest on the dips, mounds and valleys that made up his abdomen. Though long and slender, his body was refined and hard with sinewy muscle. Hanako wondered what activity he engaged in that gave him such definition.

She traced the curves of his pectoral muscles and the grooves lining his stomach. Hanako followed the trail of fine, golden hair that ran down the center of his abdomen and disappeared beneath the sheet. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she glanced back up at his face to ensure that he was still sound asleep. Satisfied by his even breathing, Hanako glanced back down to the sheet over his hips and the soft bulge between his thighs. Curiosity gripped her and she decided to satisfy it by lifting the sheet slowly to take a peek.

Even resting against his thigh, Garrick’s sex was impressive. Not that she had seen many, but she knew for sure that it would become even more remarkable once fully erect. Hanako felt a blush creeping over her skin and felt a stirring low in her core at the thought. All it would take was a single kiss, a simple touch of her hand and she just knew it would spring to life. She’d felt it pressed against her when he’d kissed her in the king’s study and knew its potential power. Part of her wanted to experience it, to know what it felt like to have him lay between her thighs and fill her completely.

She shuddered at the mental image.

The other part of her, the rebellious part, didn’t want to have anything to do with it or him. A man like Garrick was entirely too potent and Hanako knew that it was only a matter of time before he began to exert his dominance over her. It was what all men did. She’d seen it so many times before. Even if she did not enjoy what Garrick did to her in the bedroom, there were still countless other ways that the organ between his thighs could affect her.

Children.

She just wasn’t ready for them and frankly didn’t think she ever would be. Hanako felt a tiny twinge of guilt as she left the bed and crossed to the privacy screen. It wasn’t Garrick’s fault that she didn’t want offspring, and she hadn’t been able to tell him before. She supposed his shock was understandable given that most men expected heirs from their wives. Well, he was just going to have to change his expectations. Perhaps she could change a few of hers as well. She would start by getting to know Kendrick. Maybe, once Hanako began to show interest in his son, Garrick would be content. There was no reason she could not cultivate a relationship with the boy and he really wasn’t a bad child. Maybe a bit entitled and spoiled, but not bad at all.

As she stripped away her nightgown and donned the breeches and tunic she’d laid out the night before, Hanako decided to start that very evening. After returning home, she would spend some time with Kendrick, and if Garrick was around him as well. Hanako had always been the kind of person to make the best out of any situation. While her last response to a forced marriage had been retreat, this time it would be one of adaptation. She would do what she could to acclimate herself to life at Willow Cross without losing herself in the process. There was no reason becoming Lady Overton had to change her completely. She would not let it.

****

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh come, Kendrick. It’ll be fun!”

Kendrick faced Hanako and pouted, his arms crossed over his frail chest. His color was good today, she noticed, and his spirits were as well. Minnie told her that the boy seemed to be doing well this morning and Hanako saw it as the perfect opportunity for her and her stepson to get to know each other. While she was usually uncomfortable around children, Hanako was trying her best to relax and open her mind to idea that she could actually come to like Kendrick. He was making it hard with his whining, but Hanako hoped to soon break him of the habit.

“Papa won’t like it,” Kendrick protested.

“Your papa is not here and won’t be home until late.”

Hanako remembered the note she’d been given when she arrived home from a long day of training. Even though Garrick had been given some time off, he decided to see to some other business matters. Apparently, her husband was also a partner in a shipping company. Mrs. Mansfield had told her about it when Hanako asked what business he might be attending to.

“Besides, a little ride across the grounds will do you some good, Kendrick.”

“I’ve only ridden a few times,” he said, pacing back and forth in front of the bed, his nightdress billowing about his ankles. “I’m not very good.”

Hanako shrugged. “All you need is practice. You could also use the exercise. I bet it’ll make you feel even better.”

Kendrick glanced out of the window, his young eyes hopeful at the idea of venturing outside. He looked to Minnie, who stood framed in the doorway of his room, twisting her apron in her hands.

“Is it all right?” he asked, his voice expectant.

Minnie’s eyes grew wide. “Oh Master Kendrick, I won’t be going against the orders of your new stepmother. If she says so, then it’s all right. Your father will be glad to see you up and about I think.”

Hanako smiled gratefully at the nanny, but could see that she was clearly nervous about the whole thing. Her brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she glanced back and forth between her new mistress and her charge.

“Not to worry,” she said to Minnie. “If Lord Overton becomes cross, you will simply place the blame on me and allow me to handle him, yes?”

A smile broke out over the nanny’s face and she nodded excitedly. “Yes, my lady. All right then Kendrick, off with you to get dressed. Hurry now!”

Within half an hour they were headed for the stable, Hanako still in her dusty breeches and Kendrick garbed in spiffy riding attire that she doubted had ever been worn. It took the stable boys a few moments to recover from the shock of seeing their lord’s son outside, but they soon had a mare saddled for Hanako and a pony for Kendrick.

At first, Kendrick was stiff and nervous, but after she guided him at a canter for a while he brightened. As they picked up the pace, Hanako caught the happy gleam in the boy’s eyes and felt proud that she’d been the one to put it there. She congratulated herself on a job well done and the execution of a fabulous idea.

After racing about the grounds for a while, Hanako decided that he’d had enough.  Today was the first time he’d been in the saddle for a long time. Hanako knew that Kendrick would be sore come nightfall and she didn’t want to tire him out too much.

“How do you feel?” she asked as they left their horses at the stable and started on the short walk back to the house.

“A little out of breath, but that was fun!” he said, his eyes bright with excitement. “Can we go out again tomorrow?”

Hanako observed the boy’s flushed complexion and frowned. “Perhaps not. Maybe tomorrow we should do something indoors.”

Kendrick shrugged. “All right. I’ve got lots of toys.”

Hanako laughed and followed Kendrick up the front steps and into the foyer.

“I’m certain you do. I…”

She trailed off as they came face to face with Garrick, who had just arrived and was handing his hat and riding gloves to Ames. He seemed confused by what he was seeing and then shocked. His eyes widened as they locked on Kendrick, who was shuffling his feet and staring at some point beyond his father’s shoulder.

Garrick looked away from his son to cast an accusing glance at Hanako. She frowned, unable to decipher his mood. Was he angry with her? If so, she wondered if his fury stemmed from their conversation the day before or from something else. Deciding not to let his dark glare sully her mood, she nudged Kendrick in the direction of the staircase.

“I’m sure Minnie is waiting for you,” she said gently. “Why don’t you go on up to your room and join her? I’m certain it is about time for you to have your dinner.”

“You are home early,” she said to Garrick as Kendrick followed her request without a response.

Garrick watched his son disappear from view and stabbed Hanako with eyes that had turned to chips of gleaming ice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Hanako reared back as Garrick approached, towering over her, his expression one of dismay. She struggled for words for a moment before responding.

“I thought that it would be good for Kendrick and me to get to know each other. I met your son last night when I happened upon his room and we struck up a conversation. He seemed to be in need of fresh air so I…”

“You what? Thought to go against my orders that he be kept inside?”

Hanako straightened her spine and met Garrick’s cool gaze with a frigid stare of her own.

“I do not recall being told of such a rule.”

“I did not think you would be interested to know. You have seen fit to inform me of your disdain for children, so I found it unnecessary to involve Kendrick in our dealings.”

“I never said I disliked children, Garrick, only that I did not wish to give birth to any.”

Garrick’s jaw hardened and his lips contorted into a sneer as he leaned down over her until she could feel his rapid breath against her cheek.

“Kendrick is very ill, Hanako. He is dying. I don’t want him falling ill from breathing in too much dust or dirt. His lungs can’t take the strain and I…” he paused and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. In that split second, more pain crossed his face than Hanako had ever witnessed in one human being. By the time he opened his eyes, it was gone. “He is not to go outdoors again, do you understand? He is supposed to be in bed and that is where I wish him to remain.”

Common sense told Hanako not to argue with him. Clearly, he felt very strongly about it and while she did not understand it, she would leave it be for now. She inclined her head, indicating that she understood.

Garrick gave a short, curt nod in response. “Good.”

Kendrick was in his nightclothes and propped up against the pillows lining his headboard when Garrick entered his room. Garrick dismissed Minnie and took a seat in the comfortable chair beside his son’s bed. The boy gazed up at him with wide eyes filled with guilt before he lowered them back to the sheet pulled up over his waist.

“I’m sorry Papa,” he said, his voice the soft pitch of a boy still in adolescence. “I knew you would be angry but I so wanted to go for a ride. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Garrick smiled. His son was so like his mother in looks as well as mannerism. He always wanted to please and hated to upset anyone. It had been the same with Kathy.

“Son, I am not angry with you. It’s all right. I just came to make sure that you are not feeling too tired after your ride this afternoon.”

“Then you are mad at my new mama.”

Garrick felt as if a fist had clenched his stomach, so intense was his reaction to his son’s words. He winced and dropped his son’s gaze.

“Kendrick, I do not know if Hanako would like being called your new mama.”

“But she is nice to me, Papa. I like her.”

Garrick smiled and brushed a lock of Kendrick’s wavy dark hair away from his face. Such innocence was refreshing but heart wrenching at the same time.

“Perhaps you should ask her if she would like to be called Mama first,” he said. He did not want to dash his son’s hopes, but doubted that Hanako could ever be a real mother to Kendrick. Not that it was her fault. He hadn’t been thinking of that when he’d married her. Selfishly, he’d thought only of having something he’d desired for years and now even that was being denied him. Perhaps it served him right.

“I know she will think it’s all right,” Kendrick said with a sleepy smile as he lay back against the pillows. “She promised to play with me again tomorrow. Indoors though, so I won’t get too tired.”

Garrick stood and stroked Kendrick’s hair one last time. “That sounds fine. Get some rest now.”

Kendrick was asleep by the time he crossed the threshold and entered the hallway. Once he’d closed the door, he leaned against it and sighed. Garrick closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to control the torrent of emotions that tore through him. He did not like playing the role of jailor where Kendrick was concerned, but his fears at the boy’s imminent death haunted him daily. He knew that keeping Kendrick safe from the outside world could prolong his life and in that way he could hold on to his last remaining piece of happiness.

His son’s death was inevitable, the doctors had predicted it but Garrick just wasn’t ready. It had been five years since Kathy’s death and he had thought he’d never recover if not for his son. Who would bring him joy once Kendrick was gone?

Hanako’s face flittered through his mind and he was instantly filled with remorse. He had been harsh and it had been undeserved. Hanako was new to Willow Cross and was correct in reminding him that he had not told her of his preferences concerning Kendrick. While she had remained calm and unruffled, a slight pulling around her mouth had warned him of her inner reaction and he sensed tension as well as contrition on her part.

“Damn it,” he huffed as he turned toward their shared wing of the house. Best to find her and try to make amends now. For a moment, he had forgotten about his plans to win her over and had almost ruined it with his performance a little while ago.

After a few minutes of searching, he found the door of an empty sitting room open down the hall from their suites. An enticing scent grasped him when he entered and the vision of his wife drew him in, too stunning to ignore.

She had changed into a simple gown of pale blue muslin and matching slippers. She was seated on the floor with her legs crossed beneath her skirts and her hands folded in an odd pose against her belly button. She faced him but her eyelids were lowered and she could not see him. Hanako breathed deeply, her breasts rising and falling gently beneath her lace-trimmed neckline.

She was a vision framed in lamplight and Garrick felt his heart softening toward her immediately. With her eyes closed and her face so serene, Hanako appeared so much softer than she had before. The icy exterior seemed melted away and Garrick wondered if this was the true Hanako he was gazing upon now. As if she sensed him, Hanako’s eyes flew open and locked with his. He drew in a sharp breath as she smiled genuinely.

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

Yes, he thought. Love me. Want me as I want you. Let me make love to you and show you just how wonderful it can be. But none of those words escaped his lips. Instead, he shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry to bother you. Please, don’t let me distract you.”

She stood and came toward him, her hands folded in front of her. “No, stay. I wanted to speak with you at dinner, but now is as good a time as any. I was not aware that you wished Kendrick to remain indoors. I apologize for going against your rules and promise not to do it again. It is just that I saw him last night and he seemed like he could use some exercise and fresh air. I think it would do him good, Garrick, to be more active. I understand if you do not approve.”

Garrick smiled and gently brought his hands up to her shoulders. To his surprise, she did not pull away.

“No, I am the one that should apologize. I overreacted. You didn’t know and I should have told you. I don’t know if you have been told of his illness or his mother...”

“Yes. Mrs. Mansfield told me.”

“Thank you. I don’t mean to be cruel, it’s just that I want to keep him with me as long as I can. But that doesn’t mean you can’t spend time with him if you wish. I’d prefer him to remain indoors, but I suppose a few outdoor activities won’t hurt. He did have a good color about him after coming inside, did he not?”

Hanako nodded and smiled. “Yes. I think that it will do him more good than harm.”

“I only ask that you do not get his hopes up. He misses Kathy terribly and I can see him forming an attachment to you. I do not want you to be uncomfortable and I do not want him to be hurt.”

Hanako’s eyes widened and Garrick saw fear there before her mask slipped back into place again. Everything in him wanted to shake her, pull her close and beg her to tell him what she was afraid of. He wanted nothing more than to banish each and every one of those fears. Something told him that Hanako was capable of loving both him and his son, but that she would not allow herself to.

She stepped away from his grasp, as if suddenly aware that his hands rested on her shoulders and that his thumbs were drawing lazy circles against her skin. He lowered his hands and fisted them in an effort to keep from snatching her back up against him. He cleared his throat.

“So…what were you doing when I came in? Just sitting?”

Hanako laughed. “Where I am from it is called zazen. In your language it means, ‘seated meditation’. It is a way of clearing the mind of turbulent thought and finding peaceful reflection.”

Garrick raised his eyebrows and glanced into the room with interest. She had closed the drapes and lit a few lamps as well as fragrant incense. A cushion holding the indent of her bottom lay on the floor.

“Is this something you do every day?”

She nodded. “Most days. It is a practice that takes a lot of time to perfect, but it is well worth it. I find that it brings me peace and gives me time to think about the things that crowd my mind daily. In zazen, one opens their mind to all thought but suspends judgment on those thoughts. One allows images, words, ideas and thoughts to pass by without becoming actively involved.”

“That sounds complicated.”

She laughed and grasped his hand, pulling him over to where she’d been sitting. “It is not. Come, you will do it with me and see for yourself.”

Right then, with Hanako smiling up at him and her slender digits wrapped around his hand, he would follow her into hell.

Chapter 7

That night, Hanako watched as Garrick loosened his cravat and draped it over the back of a chair in her bedroom. The rest of the evening had gone smoothly. After a few hours of meditation, after which Garrick announced his newfound love of the ritual, they went down to dinner together. Their conversation had been easy and friendly for the first time since they’d met and Hanako was relieved to find that all of the earlier tension between them was gone.

She told him of her life in Japan and her subsequent journey to Barony. He told her of his years at university before settling down with Kathy and obtaining his position in the High Council. The two talked of the war that had recently ended in Barony and of their relief that their home was now at peace. They spoke of matters mundane, including his love of fencing—hence the hardened physique—and her passion for literature.

As she watched him prepare for bed, Hanako wondered what it would be like to surrender to him fully. Not that she planned to do so, but it seemed worth contemplating. Perhaps she had been too hasty in barring him access to her body. Just then, she was practically salivating as she loosened the top buttons of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing stretch of muscle and skin.

She wanted him; there was no longer any denying it. Hanako couldn’t help but allow her mind to wander back to the consequences of giving in. Yes, she would reach the heights of pleasure. The potency of Garrick’s kiss had told her this. She wasn’t yet sure if it would be worth it. None of Garrick’s behavior indicated a domineering nature. He was kind and seemed to care about her comforts and needs. As a lover, he would be respectful and gentle, and as a husband…well, that remained to be seen.

As she slipped behind the screen to dress for bed, she decided to suspend judgment for the time being. Only time would tell if Garrick would turn out to be the type of man that she could trust and respect and because of a chance encounter in the king’s study, Hanako now had all the time in the world.

Still wearing his breeches and shirt, he approached her. She stood beside the bed, the covers turned down, prepared to slide in between them. Hanako froze, her eyes locked onto his as he stopped only a few inches away from her. His expression was soft as his eyes roamed over her, from her freshly brushed hair, down lower over the sleeveless cotton nightgown covering her body, and settling on her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem before moving back up to her face.

“I’m feeling a bit restless, so I think I’ll go have a drink in the library,” he said. There was a question in his voice and it was reflected in his stare. His gaze was penetrating, intense, and Hanako was forced to look away for fear that her eyes would answer for her, maybe revealing feelings that she was not yet ready to speak of.

After a lengthy silence, Garrick nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek. His lips brushed her skin gently and chastely, but Hanako felt the touch down to her bone marrow. A shiver raced through her as his hand replaced his lips in a soft caress.

“Good night,” he said.

Hanako nodded as his hand came away from her face, leaving her feeling empty and hollow. She wanted to sway against him, wrap her arms around him and grip the powerful muscles of his back and hold on tight. Hanako wanted to rise up on tiptoe and press her lips to his. Instead, she bid him good night and watched silently as he left the room. As the door clicked shut quiet behind him, Hanako sank down to the mattress with a sigh of relief. She had escaped unscathed for the time being, but knew that it was only a matter of time before she lost herself to Garrick. The want was too strong and slowly melting into need.

Would that be so bad?

Hanako tried not to dwell on the question, but when she laid her head against the pillow, it consumed her.

****

The next week found Hanako in Kendrick’s company by day and Garrick’s by night. With Barony in a seemingly permanent state of peace and calm, there wasn’t much for the lady knights to do. Aside from a few meetings with her estate’s foreman, there wasn’t anything to occupy her at Stonevale either. Ava forced her to take the rest of the week to spend with her new family and Hanako had reluctantly taken it. She knew that her friends had the training of new recruits well in hand and the guard schedule in Gladstone covered, but Hanako had never taken such a long break from her duties and the notion had been distasteful at first.

The more time she spent with Garrick and Kendrick, though, the more she became comfortable with being away from the compound. Kendrick was a smart little boy and Hanako could not believe what good company he’d turned out to be. Despite his illness, he was proficient in his studies and not shy about flaunting the fact. He’d proudly taken Hanako into his schoolroom and introduced her to his tutor before demonstrating his extensive knowledge of arithmetic.

The evenings with Garrick had been quiet and intimate, and Hanako was happy to find that he enjoyed meditation. They had engaged in the activity several times since the day she’d demonstrated it the first time. She could feel his restlessness at first as he struggled to find comfort in the full-lotus position and with the mudra formation of the hands against his stomach. After a while, his breathing would slow to match hers and he seemed to sink into zazen naturally, finding relaxation and peaceful reflection. He raved about its effects on his disposition and claimed he even slept better the nights that they engaged in meditation.

There would be no time for it this evening, though, as Queen Isabelle was hosting a party in their honor. Because her friend had not had a proper wedding ceremony, Isabelle turned out in grand style, planning a wedding reception of sorts. Hanako didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that her marriage was a sham. She was so happy that all of her lady knights were settled and seemingly happy and Hanako wouldn’t ruin that for anything.

So now, she was allowing Hannah, her new ladies maid, to lace her into a corset and apply a light dusting of rogue to her cheeks. She relented to a light application of kohl around her eyes and color on her lips as well. Hannah chattered excitedly as she helped Hanako into the gown that Garrick surprised her with that morning. Mrs. Mansfield had covertly taken her pink gown from Nell’s engagement ball and given it to Garrick so that the seamstress could get the sizing just right.

The vibrant yellow silk shot through with silver thread was the perfect complement to her coloring and its simple cut flattered her slender frame.

“You look beautiful!” Hannah exclaimed as she stood back to allow Hanako to look in the full-length mirror. “Lord Overton will be so proud to have you on his arm tonight my lady, you mark my words.”

Hanako gave a tiny smile to her reflection as she admired Garrick’s gift. She had been prepared to wear her only other ball gown for the soiree, but he’d claimed that she was in need of something new for the occasion.

“It is our wedding ball after all,” he’d said.

Garrick had then announced his intentions of providing her with an entire, fashionable trousseau. Even though she had refused, he insisted, claiming that the clothing would come in handy as she was now lady of Willow Cross. Hanako gave in, wanting to please him in some way as she knew she continued to disappoint him in others.

She avoided her own eyes in the mirror, knowing that she would only find guilt there. Every night Garrick gazed at her expectantly and every night she feigned ignorance and went to bed. Most evenings he left her, staying up in the late hours, not joining her in their bed until as late as three in the morning. He would rise early despite his late retiring hour, and leave before she had even stirred, for a morning ride. She guessed that he needed some outlet to relieve the physical tension that hummed between them every time they were in the same room. The more they were together, the harder it was to withstand, fairly crackling on the air like a lightning storm.

Hanako turned away from the mirror just as Minnie entered the room, her eyes wide as she took in her mistress’ appearance.

“My, don’t you look lovely!”

“Thank you, Minnie.”

She frowned. “Is everything all right? Is Kendrick not well?”

“Oh no, my lady, nothing like that! The lad just wants to wish you good night before you leave.”

“I think I’ve got just enough time to stop by his room on my way out,” Hanako replied as she pulled on her evening gloves and slid the string of her reticule around her wrist. “No need to wait up for me Hannah,” she said to her maid. “I am sure we’ll be out until late. I can manage undressing on my own.”

“I suspect Lord Overton will be a big help as well,” Hannah said with a sly grin as she slipped from the room.

Hanako’s cheeks grew hot but she didn’t respond to Hannah’s quip. Trying to push the image of Garrick unfastening her dress out of her mind, she moved quickly in the direction of Kendrick’s room. She found Garrick there, tucking the boy into bed. Hanako stood in the doorway and smiled at the picture father and son created, Garrick’s blond head bent down over Kendrick’s dark one.

“Mama!”

Hanako felt a lump rising in her throat as Kendrick’s shining eyes locked with hers. The first time he’d called her mama, Hanako had recoiled, her mind rebelling at the thought. When she saw the earnest longing in the boy’s eyes, she hadn’t been able to form a vocal protest. The absence of Katherine was obviously hard on her stepson and she couldn’t bring herself to dash his hopes in her. Hanako stepped into the room and approached the bed, coming to stand beside Garrick. She pushed a few damp tendrils of hair from the boy’s face and kissed his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold. She did not need to meet Garrick’s concerned expression to know that Kendrick was falling ill. She forced a smile for the child’s benefit.

“All ready for bed?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.

Kendrick’s eyebrows lowered over sullen eyes. “I wish I was going with you.”

“It would not be very much fun,” she replied with a laugh. “Not a toy or a pony in sight, I’m afraid; just a group of stuffy old people having boring conversation.”

Kendrick giggled. “I don’t suppose I’d like it at all.”

“No, you would not. Do not forget my promise to take you out tomorrow, but only if you are well rested.”

Kendrick nodded eagerly. “I shall go to sleep the moment you are gone.”

“Perfect.”

She kissed his forehead again and followed Garrick from the room.

“You do not have to do that, you know.”

Hanako cast Garrick a curious expression. “Do what?”

“Cater to Kendrick the way you do. He understands that you are not his mother and you are not here to take her place.”

She frowned, pausing in the foyer to face him. “I like your son, Garrick, and I do not intend to take anyone’s place. It is not imposition, being kind to him. He’s a sweet child.”

Garrick smiled down at her and took her gloved hand in his. “I am happy to hear that. Forgive me, my thoughts were only of your comfort.”

Hanako smiled back at him. “I am more than comfortable, thank you.”

“And you look ravishing besides,” he said, his eyes traveling over the yellow silk. “When I chose that gown for you, I knew that it would be perfect for you but I never imagined the results would be quite so stunning.”

Hanako lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t stand to look at him when his eyes devoured her so hungrily. Hanako knew that he had carnal pleasures on his mind, and the longer she stood there with his gaze so heated and fixed on her, the more she began to think of them too. Garrick cleared his throat, as if he too were aware of the tension arcing between them.

“Well then, we should be off. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Garrick extended his arm and Hanako placed her hand on it lightly. Ames opened the front door for them and they exited the house. Once Garrick had helped her into the carriage and hoisted himself him in across from her, he turned to her with a serious expression.

“I have received word that Kiyoshi is invited to the ball tonight.”

Hanako frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The carriage started moving and Garrick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Well, we were not exactly forthright about your past relationship with him. Queen Isabelle does not know that he posed a threat to you before you married me. King Serge informed me that she has purchased nearly all of his silk fabric, as well as several crates of incense and ivory and jade. She finds him charming.”

Hanako laughed. “That does not surprise me. Kiyoshi has a way about him. He could easily fool someone into seeing what is not really there.”

“I am assuming that you do not wish your concerns regarding him revealed to her.”

She shook her head. “No. I do not want to worry her. Ava, Mudiwa and Nell know and are chomping at the bit to remove him forcibly from Barony.”

Garrick arched a blond brow. “Not a bad idea.”

“I told them not to. I think it would only anger him further. Kiyoshi is prideful and we have already foiled him once. I think the best course of action would be to continue acting like a happily married couple. Eventually he will become convinced and leave us be. Hopefully he will return to Edo and not return again.”

“You mentioned before that Kiyoshi is of the warrior class, like you. What happened to push him into the life of a merchant?”

“Before I left Edo, the role of the warrior class had begun to diminish. Years of peace reduced status of warriors immensely. At the time of my marriage to Kiyoshi, this was beginning with the onna bugeisha, which are the female warrior class. If I had to guess, I would presume that the same has happened to the samurai. Kiyoshi has found a way to survive as necessary.”

Garrick reached across the carriage for her hand. His smile was soft and full of empathy. “I could not imagine such a life for you. I have watched you with the lady’s regiment for a long time. You were born a warrior, Hanako. That is clear to see.”

Hanako found herself speechless at his words. It was in moments like this that caused her to realize just how completely she could love Garrick if she were brave enough to allow it. Just now she felt as if he knew her better than anybody, understood just who she was and what she needed to survive. Kiyoshi had wanted to rule her, fill her belly with children and end her days as a warrior. Hanako knew now without a doubt that Garrick was not the same kind of man.

Now she was left questioning her original assessment of the state of marriage. Already life with Garrick was nothing like what she’d witnessed between her parents, or what she would have suffered with Kiyoshi. If only she could find a way to let him know that she had changed her mind, that maybe allowing him his marital rights could only strengthen their blossoming friendship. Of course, there was still the issue of the children that Hanako wasn’t ready for, but there were ways around that. Weren’t there?

Chapter 8

“You cannot be serious!”

Hanako shot Ava a look begging her friend to lower her voice. She raised her champagne glass to her lips and grimaced.

“I am serious Ava. I need to know now to prevent becoming pregnant while still…enjoying the marriage bed.”

The two stood behind a towering arrangement of vibrant summer blossoms. Partially hidden from the crowd, they spoke in hushed tones about a subject that put red blossoms of heat on Hanako’s cheeks. Hanako watched Garrick as he whirled around the dance floor with an acquaintance’s daughter. Every time their movement brought them within her line of vision, Garrick’s eyes would connect with hers and he would smile. Hanako felt her stomach tightening in anxiety as she mentally relived their kiss in the study over and over again. It had been weeks since their first and only kiss and Hanako was starved for more. Her eyes lingered on where Garrick’s long and slender hand rested at his companion’s back and nearly groaned aloud at the thought of those same hands moving over her body.

“Julian and I are not avoiding pregnancy,” Ava responded, watching her own husband as he disappeared into the card room with Simon. “In fact, I am quite looking forward to the day that I can tell him that we’ve created a child.”

Hanako eyed Ava incredulously, unable to believe the words coming from her friend’s mouth. It would seem that love and marriage had changed the hardened lady captain into a woman Hanako barely recognized. She was not sure yet how she felt about the change.

“I am happy for you,” she replied, “but I am not quite there yet. I adore my stepson, Kendrick, but becoming pregnant and bearing an infant…I don’t know, Ava, I’m just not ready but I do want to be with Garrick.”

Ava’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you telling me that you have been avoiding intimacy with your husband?”

If at all possible, the redness in Hanako’s face deepened considerably. “I do not wish to, but it seems to be the only way to avoid becoming pregnant.”

“And Garrick understands your reasons?”

“He understands them but he is certainly not very happy about it.”

“He has not tried to force you?”

Hanako shook her head, anger rising up in her at her friend’s question. “Of course not!” She sighed and lowered her voice, staring down at the bubbling liquid in her glass. “Garrick is gentle and kind. He may not be happy with our arrangement but he is a gentleman. He has not laid a hand on me since that night in King Serge’s study.”

“You do not sound happy about it.”

“I am not.”

“Yet, abstaining from intimacy was your idea.”

“I know that!”

Ava chuckled at Hanako’s frustration and reached out to grab her hand tightly.

“Not to worry. I may not be trying to avoid pregnancy, but there are a number of ladies of the court that are. In fact, I know just the person to introduce you to.”

Hanako followed Ava’s gaze across the ballroom. She gasped as she settled on the vivacious woman surrounded by a flock of attentive men. Her light blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight and her daring red gown clung and draped in all the right places to reveal a voluptuous figure. Her green eyes gleamed as she grinned mischievously at one of her suitors.

“Darla Remington?”

Ava nodded and began steering Hanako in the lady’s direction.

“If anyone would know how to prevent becoming pregnant, she would.”

Hanako had to admit that Ava was right, but she was a bit nervous about meeting the court’s most sought after courtesan face to face. Darla Remington had been kept by several men in the room and by the looks of things, was on the prowl for her next keeper. While she was not of the nobility, Darla was never short on titled men who wished to take her out and flaunt the beauty on their arm. She had amassed a great amount of wealth as a courtesan and ran in the loftiest circles. The beautiful woman smiled genuinely as they approached.

“Lady Longley!” she greeted Ava enthusiastically. “Aren’t we looking lovely this evening? Lady Kiyomi, is it?”

Hanako nodded in greeting. “Miss Remington pleased to meet you.”

“I was wondering if we could speak with you privately,” Ava said once pleasantries had been exchanged with the men standing vigilantly at Darla’s side.

“Will you excuse us, gentleman? My friends and I must retire to the powder room for a while. I shall return directly.”

The hungry gazes of the men followed them from the ballroom. Hanako stifled a laugh as she noticed the exaggerated sway of Darla’s hips. The woman was quite confident, Hanako noted. She would never have a problem bedding her husband if she had one, Hanako mused. Try as she might, she could not push aside pangs of envy.

Once they were in the outer chamber of the ladies retiring room, Darla ensured that they were alone before lowering herself gracefully onto a black settee.

“Let’s not beat around the bush ladies,” she said, staring pointedly at first Ava, then Hanako. “What can I do for you this evening?”

Ava shot Hanako a glance and nodded. Hanako took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I hope you do not think me too forward, but I was hoping that you could help me with a rather delicate matter.”

Darla rearranged her skirts and motioned for Hanako to continue.

“I find myself in need of your expertise in the matter of avoiding pregnancy.”

Darla laughed, her voice a tinkling and musical sound that Hanako just knew the woman had practiced for years. It was entirely too charming and perfect to be natural.

“Of course, darling! I’d be happy to help. There are several ways and I’d be more than happy to tell you of a few. In fact, I can take you to a shop in Gladstone’s market square that specializes in products for your specific situation. If you are not busy tomorrow afternoon, I would be more than happy to meet you there and take you myself.”

Relief flooded her and she allowed herself to breathe again. “I would be so grateful. Of course, discretion is of the utmost importance.”

Darla smiled. “Discretion is my specialty.”

Garrick spotted his wife the moment she returned to the ballroom and sighed with relief. Hanako appeared unharmed and was accompanied by Ava, so Garrick hoped that it was safe to assume that she hadn’t been accosted by Kiyoshi. He’d arrived a half hour ago and was circling the ballroom now, his eyes sharp and calculating as he searched for Hanako in the crowd. Hoping to avoid confrontation with Kiyoshi altogether, Garrick made a beeline for Hanako.

“I do hope you will excuse us, Lady Longley,” he said politely to Ava, “but I have only had one dance with my bride and have come to claim another.”

Ava smiled and shot Hanako a knowing glance. “Of course. I will just go and try to pry Julian away from the gaming tables. You two enjoy your ball.”

Once Ava was gone, Garrick wrapped an arm around Hanako’s slender waist and pulled her close. He knew that such liberties were only allowed in public and felt his body singing at her nearness. Garrick decided to take full advantage of it while he could. Once back at home, Hanako would become untouchable again.

“Kiyoshi is not one hundred yards behind you,” he whispered in her ear once he had pulled her into his embrace. “Shall we remind him who you have chosen?”

Garrick didn’t imagine the shiver that ran between them as she met his gaze. Hanako’s eyes reflected the turmoil that he felt inside. It had been weeks since he’d agreed to a marriage in name only, and with every day that passed he grew more and more restless to have her. He was not blind, he could see that she wanted him too. Garrick hoped that his attempts at friendship and familiarity were placing them on the right path to intimacy.

As Hanako allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, he prayed fervently that she wouldn’t keep him waiting much longer. When their bodies molded together for the waltz and he grasped is hand in hers, he knew that if he tried hard enough, tonight might just be the night. This dance would serve as a double-edged sword, a reminder to Kiyoski that Hanako was his, as well as a full-fledged assault on her senses. He would leave her with no doubt as to his desires or her own.

The beginning strains of the next song began and they moved together beneath the watchful eyes of most of their guests, including Kiyoshi. Garrick ignored the narrowed, dark stare and focused on Hanako. She stared at his lapel, her eyes fixed on his canary yellow necktie. Garrick smiled as he leaned down to press his lips against her ear.

“Have you any idea how ravishing you look in that dress?”

He felt her smile. “I believe you have said so once or twice.”

“Ah, but did I tell you how very much I’d like to strip it from your body?”

She gasped. “Garrick!”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening at her back. Garrick felt the brush of her breasts against his chest and almost took her down to the floor right then and there. He noted Kiyoshi’s jealous glare as he twirled Hanako across the floor. Garrick smirked at him and kissed Hanako’s shoulder discreetly, emphasizing the point. Satisfaction flared as Kiyoshi’s hand curled into a fist at his side. Garrick turned his attention back to his wife.

“You are surprised, Hanako? No, I do not think that you are. After all, you share my bed every night. Surely you must know how restless I have been with you beside me, so close yet so far away because of the barrier you’ve erected between us.”

“I do not think this is the best time to speak of such things.”

“Actually, it is the perfect time. You see, if I whisper in your ear just how badly I wish to yank down the front of that dress and free your delectable breasts from the fabric, you will turn that attractive shade of pink and Kiyoshi will know how I am affecting you. Am I wrong?”

She tensed in his arms and Garrick knew that the image he’d created was swimming through her mind as well as his. He felt her sagging against him, but he continued to support her with the tight band of his arm around her waist.

“Then this is about Kiyoshi? You are enjoying your little game, are you not?”

Garrick chuckled and nuzzled her neck gently, inhaling her heady fragrance as he kissed her shoulder again.

“I must say that I am. He is as red as you are right now and not in an attractive way. Can I tell you what I am enjoying even more than that?”

“I am afraid to ask.”

“The feel of your body against mine is setting my blood on fire Hanako,” he whispered, his voice growing thick and raspy as his hardening sex sprang to life between them. She gasped at the feel of it and he smiled.

“You feel it, don’t you? That same intoxicating sensation of urgency that I am feeling now is coming over you too.”

“You are very sure of your magnetism, my lord.”

Garrick almost laughed aloud at Hanako’s attempt to place some sort of distance between them. The hand that held hers tightened and he traced her pulse with his thumb.

“Denial will do you no good. Your lips may lie but your body does not. Right now, I can feel you, your sweet nipples growing hard against my chest and the rush of your blood in your veins. You breath is heavy and shallow and your legs are trembling.”

“Garrick…” Her voice trailed off, a breathless moan that struck Garrick down to his very soul. He trembled against her and bit down on his lower lip to stifle the groan welling in his own throat. Frustration gripped him as well as mind-numbing desire.

“Yes?”

“I want…I mean, I think…Oh, I do not know how to express what I wish to say!”

Garrick saw her frustration as well as her embarrassment and felt nothing but relief at her revelation.

“You wish me to become your husband in truth.”

She nodded but was otherwise silent. Her eyes lowered back to his cravat, but as the music faded away and they stopped dancing, Garrick gripped her chin gently and forced her to look up at him.

“You are giving me your word? There will be no going back after this Hanako. Once you allow me entry to your bed I will not be barred from it again.”

She swallowed noisily and took a deep, shaky breath before nodding in acquiescence.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You will give yourself to me completely.”

“Yes.”

“You are not just doing this out of obligation, are you? Because if that is the case, then I will be forced to reject your offer.”

“No.”

He leaned down to pressed a light kiss on her cheek. “You will not regret this.”

Garrick planned to make damned sure that she didn’t. His fingertips were already tingling at the thought of undressing her and his mouth was already watering to taste her skin. With a deep, forceful breath of his own, he grasped her elbow tightly and steered her toward the exit.

“Home?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good. I will say goodnight to our hosts.”

Her eyes widened as she seemed to remember something. “I left my reticule in the ladies’ retiring room. I will meet you in the main hall.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Garrick felt his hands trembling as he watched her walk away, her hips swaying gently beneath the yellow silk of her skirt. After she was gone, he shoved the shaking hands into his pockets and turned away, hoping against all hope that she would not change her mind. He didn’t think that his body could take the strain much longer.

“I am surprised to find you alone.”

Hanako stiffened as a familiar voice greeted her in the darkness of the hall. She paused, just a few feet away from the ladies room door, the string of her reticule gripped between her fingers.

“What do you want, Kiyoshi?”

“Just a few moments alone with you without your husband sniffing about your skirts like a stray dog.”

Hanako drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin. “At least I allow him around my skirts.”

His jaw tightened and his shoulders stiffened and Hanako grinned in satisfaction. Kiyoshi did not handle blows to his pride well. He closed the distance between them and Hanako felt her body humming to life, prepared for a physical attack. Kiyoshi stopped inches away, his lips contorting into a sneer as he reached out to stroke a lock of her short hair. “Do you? I find that hard to believe. You are as cold as you’ve ever been Hanako. Does your new husband find your bed as cold as I found it? Perhaps he seeks succor with another, hmm?”

Hanako felt her arm lashing out and her hand screaming through the air before she could stop it. Kiyoshi’s grip was bruising as he halted her slap before it could connect with his face. He used his advantage to close the remaining few inches between them and before she knew it Hanako’s front was pressed against the wall, her arm twisted viciously behind her back. Her feet left the floor, one of them connecting with his shin. He cursed and twisted her arm painfully, using his body to pin her more tightly against the wall. Her stomach rolled with repugnance as Kiyoshi’s hand found its way beneath her skirt.

“Perhaps I should get a taste of what you withhold so easily. That will teach you to behave like such a brazen tease.”

“I never—”

“You did! All of those years I watched you as you ran wild, heedless to your father’s will. You were untamed and fearless and had every man in your path panting after you like a pack of salivating dogs.”

Hanako’s eyebrows wrinkled in bewilderment. She had never seen herself that way and certainly hadn’t noticed the attentions of other men.

“I never gave you reason to believe that I wanted you,” she retorted, bucking against his hold.

“No, but you will. One way or another.”

Hanako’s eyes flew wide with panic as Kiyoshi’s hand traveled up her thigh. His free hand came up to muffle the scream that left her mouth when his fingers began to inch their way between her legs. Her heart pounded as she realized that she was now staring her worse fear in the eye. Kiyoshi meant to force her and as far as she’d wandered from the ballroom, no one would see or hear them if he did. She could only hope to fight him off, or pray that some unsuspecting lady needing to relieve herself would stumble upon them outside of the retiring room.

As Kiyoshi threw her to the floor, Hanako twisted to her back, bringing her fist up to his face as he lowered himself over her. His head snapped back and blood gushed from his mouth, but he remained persistent, his hands ripping at her skirt and petticoat. Hanako kicked and flailed, but he eventually grabbed hold of her arms and lifted them over her head. He secured her two small hands with one of his large ones and secured them there, as he jerked at the fastening of his knee breeches with the other. Hanako had just steeled herself to head butt him, when she heard footsteps coming toward her at a run. Kiyoshi disappeared from on top of her and Hanako sat up just in time to see Garrick taking her assailant to the ground.

The two grappled on the floor, trading blows, with Garrick taking most of them. Eventually, Kiyoshi delivered a swift kick to Garrick’s middle and left him groaning on the floor beside her before making his escape. Torn over pursuing him or tending to Garrick, Hanako chose the latter. As Kiyoshi disappeared from sight, she knelt beside Garrick, who had struggled into a sitting position and was gripping his stomach tightly.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped him to stand.

“I should be asking you that.”

Other than Kiyoshi’s blood staining her torn dress and her ruined coiffure, Hanako was unharmed. Garrick, however, sported a nasty bruise across his cheek.

“He did not get far,” she assured him. “I am more concerned about your face. It is going to swell.”

Garrick stood up straight and wrapped his arms around her. “That does not matter. As long as you’re all right…”

“Perfectly fine,” she said. She knew the shakiness of her voice belied her portrayed calm. “I think that we played the role of a loving couple a bit too well. We’ve made him very angry.”

“There’s nothing for it now, then. Queen Isabelle and King Serge must be informed. He should not be allowed anywhere near you or anyone else for that matter. And until he’s left for Edo, I will not be letting you out of my sight again.”

Hanako felt a stirring deep within her as he held her close. His lips brushed the top of her head before he stood back to look her over and ensure that she was unharmed. Even though she was more than accustomed to pain—the battlefield was full of it—his concern was touching. She knew that Garrick understood that it was not physical pain that she feared, but the pain of what Kiyoshi would have taken from her. She had promised not even half an hour ago to give freely of her body and that decision had been a hard one to make.

Hanako could clearly see the fear in his eyes, the question that lingered there. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck to assure him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered as she rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I still want you, Garrick. Tonight.”

He returned her kiss gently, lifting her a few inches off the ground until their bodies melded together.

“Thank God,” he mumbled against her lips.

Chapter 9

“My God, what was I thinking?” Hanako mumbled to herself as she tugged at the belt of her dressing gown. She forced her hands down to her sides and continued to pace, knowing that if she pulled at the belt any tighter, Garrick would never be able to untie the knot. Not that that would stop him.

Her stomach clenched at the thought and anxiety washed over her in turbulent waves, each one larger than the next. What had she subjected herself to by agreeing to allow Garrick his marital rights? Hanako had heard countless stories of men who were selfish or cruel lovers. She knew of men that thought only of their own pleasures and often repulsed their wives with requests of deeds unsavory.

Would Garrick ask those things of her? Would he give her pleasure as well as take it, or was he as selfish as many other men of the court she’d heard whispered rumors about?

Hanako stared up at her flushed reflection in the full-length mirror one last time and sighed. No, Garrick would not be self-centered or unkind. The tenderness in his kiss told her everything she needed to know. She valiantly pushed her fears aside, only to be gripped by impatience. What was taking him so long?

After the incident with Kiyoshi, Hanako and Garrick had gone immediately in search of Isabelle and Serge. The king and queen were furious at Kiyoshi’s attempted rape and deception. While Isabelle was disappointed that Hanako hadn’t come to her sooner, she was mostly relieved to know that her friend was unharmed and had protection in the form of Garrick. King Serge ordered a unit of palace sentinels to track Kiyoshi down and arrest him for his crime, but Hanako knew that if Kiyoshi didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Despite her reservations, she hoped that he would be found. Then, she could let go of the nagging feeling that she was still in danger.

She had known that Kiyoshi could be cruel, but the hard glint she’d seen in his eyes tonight had gone beyond anything she’d ever seen. Even though she’d known marriage to him would crush her spirit, she could never have fathomed just how much. Tonight, she knew for sure that running away from him had been the best decision she’d ever made. But what of her marriage to Garrick? She was still suspending judgment on that question for the time being, but as he entered the room carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses Hanako began leaning toward all of the positives that had come from this arrangement. Like Garrick’s kindness and their blossoming friendship  or the glimpse of bare chest she saw through his open shirt and the strength of forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves.

He went to the small table by the windows and placed his bounty on top. Garrick shot her a quick smile before turning to fill both glasses halfway.

“I thought you could use this to settle your nerves,” he said as he crossed to her. Hanako took the offered wine from his hand and gulped gratefully. The drink went straight to her head, curling out into her veins with decadent warmth. She heaved a deep sigh and compelled herself to meet her husband’s gaze.

Garrick sipped from his glass and watched her closely, as if he were afraid that she would run. She sat her empty goblet on the table and looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to take the lead. When he’d finished his wine, he placed his glass next to hers and took a step toward her.

“I am sorry that our wedding ball was ruined,” he said.

“So am I. I am especially saddened over the loss of my new gown. Unfortunately, the skirt is torn beyond repair.”

Garrick shrugged. “I’ve already arranged a conveyance and escort for you tomorrow to Gladstone. Mrs. Mansfield has made you an appointment at a boutique to be measured for gowns. Shop to your heart’s content.”

Hanako thought of the courtesan’s invitation and felt relief. Now she had an excuse to go to Gladstone for their secret meeting. For tonight, she was hoping that one encounter would not impregnate her. Tomorrow night, Hanako would be prepared.

“That is very generous of you.”

Garrick smiled and stepped toward her, snaking one arm out to pull her against his bare chest. She felt his heat enveloping her, searing her skin through the thin dressing gown as he held her.

“You are my wife,” he responded, as if that explained it all.

Hanako brought her hand up to his cheek, entranced by the warmth in the depths of Garrick’s eyes.

“Not yet,” she said gently, “but in a few moments I will be.”

As if her words had freed him from invisible shackles, he cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips down over hers with a groan. They were soft and pliant, warm and slick on the inside as he caressed her tongue with his. Heat gathered within her immediately, intensifying with incredible force. Her knees buckled and Hanako brought her hands up to Garrick’s shoulders to steady herself as he deepened the kiss, tilting her head to gain better access to the depths of her mouth.

Their breathing grew harsh and heavy, racing between their joined lips as Garrick guided her toward the bed. Her back met one of the bed’s massive posters, and he pressed her up against it, grinding his hips against hers as his arousal grew thick and hard between them. A low moan sounded in her throat as the friction of their bodies moving together sent waves of longing through her. Despite her earlier trepidation, she was eager and ready knowing that this night would be one she’d never forget.

Garrick removed his shirt without breaking their kiss and Hanako raised her hands to the wide expanse of his blond hair-sprinkled chest. She lowered them over his flat stomach, bringing them to rest at the waistband of his breeches. Garrick grasped her hand swiftly, circling her wrist in a gentle but firm hold. His eyes glittered as he raised Hanako’s hand to his mouth, pausing with his lips hovering over her pulse.

“If you do not stop that, I can’t promise to take this slowly with you,” he murmured before laving the delicate skin of her wrist with his hot tongue. Hanako’s eyes slid shut and she leaned against the bedpost as he trailed a row of kisses up the inside of her arm.

“And I do want to do this slowly,” he breathed as he pushed back the sleeve of her robe to reveal more of her skin. “I want to explore your body and teach you a woman’s pleasure. Am I right in thinking that no other man has touched you?”

Hanako nodded, her mouth too dry for words.

Garrick sighed as he trailed his lips up to her silk-covered shoulder. He paused there as his hands came up to the belt at her waist.

“Good,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he tugged at the knot.

The robe opened and Garrick parted it, pushing it off of her shoulders. The garment pooled at her feet as Garrick’s eyes traveled over her nude body. He swallowed noisily, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly and the blue irises of his eyes were overtaken by the dilating black pupils. He reached out with one hand to touch her.

Hanako shivered as he ran his fingertips from the column of her neck, down over her collarbone, the crest of one breast, and the flat plane of her stomach before circling over her hipbone. He brought his hand up again, his breath rushing from his lungs as he palmed one breast. She moaned and arched her back, pressing the small mound more fully into his grasp. Her rosy nipple leaped to attention against his skin, puckering and hardening as he teased her with his fingers.

Garrick’s other hand came up to cover the other breast and Hanako felt a fluttering begin low in her core as he massaged and kneaded, the friction of his palms against the peaks sending a flood of heat and moisture flooding between her thighs.

“Garrick, please,” she whimpered, aching for the feel of his mouth.

He smiled down at her, tweaking one of the pink tips playfully, eliciting another moan from Hanako’s lips.

“Do you trust me, wife?”

Through the passionate haze clouding her vision, she tried to focus on him. Hanako trembled as he ran his hands the length of her body down to her hips before coming back up again.

“Yes,” she whispered as he touched her.

“Truly? Well, I am certain you do since you are offering yourself to me but if you do not mind, I’d like to put that trust to the test.”

Confusion intruded upon her desire and Hanako frowned. “What do you mean?”

With a wicked grin, Garrick reached behind her and untied one of the tasseled ropes holding the bed curtains against the posters. He held the silver rope up in front of her before gathering her hands in one of his.

“You withheld yourself from me because you did not trust me with your body. I know that we have not known each other long, Hanako, but I think I understand you a bit. You fear dominance and what it would do to your nature to give that kind of control to a man. But I am your husband and I want to show you that you have my utmost respect in every way.”

Hanako stiffened as Garrick raised her hands above her head, tying them both to the thick post.

“You’re tying my hands to gain my trust?”

He nodded as he checked his knots to ensure that they were not too tight.

“It will show you that you have nothing to fear, that even though I have you at my mercy, you can trust me to honor you. I will not abuse your trust, Hanako and I need you to understand that.”

He leaned down to kiss her again tenderly. “Let me show you, please.”

Without waiting for her response, he lowered his head to her breast. Hanako forgot all about her bound hands as Garrick’s lips parted just inches away from her skin. She felt the warmth of his breath just seconds before his lips closed over the aching peak. His tongue teased the tight nub to attention before tracing a hot path over her sternum toward the other one. Hanako writhed against him as he circled the aching nipple with his dancing tongue before trailing back over to the other.

When she felt as if she could take no more, he lowered his lips to her stomach, gifting the smooth, white skin with hot caresses from his open mouth. Hanako would have sunk to the floor if not for her bound hands and was grateful for the tight hold of Garrick’s grip on her hips. He traveled lower, his caresses blazing a trail of fire down over hipbone and thigh. His skilled tongue made its way closer to the inside of her thigh as he gently nudged her knees apart.

Hanako stared down at him, watching as he knelt, his blond head gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window. She watched, fascinated, as he gently slid his hand into the apex of her thighs. They sighed in unison as strong, sure fingers met hot, wet flesh. He parted her, circling her sensitive inner bud with gentle strokes as heat and moisture coated his fingertips. Hanako trembled and quaked against him, no longer able to fight against the soft moans spilling from her lips as Garrick teased her into fervor.

Her hips moved against his hand, and she gripped the rope binding her and held on for dear life as Garrick leaned in and stroked her quivering flesh with his tongue. A scream rippled out from her chest as he closed his lips around the tingling bud he’d tortured with his fingers. The suction of his mouth combined with the probing intrusion of two fingers stroking inside of her to drive her over the precipice and into the raging storm of a climax.

Garrick stroked mercilessly, stretching her tight channel as he lapped at her hungrily. Soft groans of satisfaction at her achieved pleasure met her ears as Garrick rode her completion to the very end. When the final spasms of her climax had passed, Garrick stood.

With one swift motion, he grasped Hanako around the waist and lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist. Hanako’s hips bucked as his arousal came to rest against her slick inner folds, stoking the remaining embers of her desire left after her completion into a raging fire.

He pressed her up against the poster and slammed his lips down over hers. After a moment, he pulled away and met her gaze. His lips were parted and his breath heavy as his eyes traveled over her enraptured face.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said as he reached up to release her wrists. Hanako sagged against him and Garrick lifted her easily and laid her onto the bed. She reclined against the pillows, her body bared to his view, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she felt need welling up in her again. Hanako understood that there was more in store for her and knew that she couldn’t wait much longer.

She watched as Garrick released the fastening of his breeches and dropped them to the floor. Hanako’s eyes lowered and fixed upon the intimidating organ jutting out  from between sculpted thighs. Her insides quivered at the sight and she clutched the sheets in anticipation as he came toward the bed. In an instant, he was over her, lowering his hips over hers and claiming her mouth once more.

Garrick’s kiss was urgent, as was the throbbing shaft pressed up against her thigh. Hanako reached down to touch it and Garrick drew in a deep breath, his stomach contracting and hardening as she ran curious fingers over satin covered iron. She explored him, both hard and soft, and Garrick closed his eyes, thrusting slowly into her hand as she stroked him. She was without skill but filled with curiosity as she discovered territory unknown. If his facial expression was any indication, he did not mind her lack of knowledge in the least.

Finally, he pulled her hand away, spreading her legs wide on the bed before settling between them. Hanako rose up onto her elbows, consumed with the desire to watch as he entered her. He gripped her thigh with one hand and angled his impressive length toward her, probing the slick entrance to her channel with the swollen tip. Garrick closed his eyes and groaned as he slid in, inch by slow inch. Hanako lifted her hips, eager to take in all of him as he stretched her and filled her to near bursting.  Just when she thought he would rip her in two, the barrier of her maidenhead snapped and sent a jolt of stabbing pain through her.

Garrick held her close, moving slowly within her with controlled power as she waited for the ache to subside. He was patient and gentle, covering her face with kisses as he accustomed her body to the length and breadth of him. Hanako saw sweat breaking out over his brow and could see by the straining muscles in his neck and shoulders that he was holding back in an attempt to bring her to finality again.

Soon the slow burning began to mingle with something else. It tingled at the base of her spine, erupting into a pleasure intensified tenfold when compared to what she’d experienced by the teasing of his mouth. Hanako’s thighs tightened around his hips and as he sensed her growing pleasure, Garrick’s driving thrusts strengthened and quickened until he was pounding out a seductive rhythm within her. Hanako’s second climax washed over her just as Garrick stiffed within her. Hanako’s eyes widened as Garrick shuddered and released his seed inside of her.

At the warm gush, Hanako felt panic welling up inside of her but she shoved it back down. She refused to allow her fears to rule this night. Hanako had every intention of meeting with Darla in the morning and securing some means of protecting herself from an unwanted pregnancy. For now, though, her body was dragging her down into a languid pool of satisfaction as Garrick leaned in for another bone-melting kiss. His body on top of hers was heavy but comfortable and protective as he gathered her up against him and held her tightly.

She was nearly asleep when the movement of Garrick’s body stirred her back to wakefulness. Hanako watched as he crossed to the washstand, admiring the movement of his firm buttocks as he moved. He returned with a bowl full of water and a cloth, which he used to gently cleanse the crimson stain smeared on her thighs. Hanako grimaced as she glanced down at the stained sheet.

“What do you suppose we do about that?” she asked as Garrick disposed of the bowl. “The maids will be gossiping by breakfast when they come in to change the linens in the morning.”

“No,” Garrick said firmly as he removed the top sheet from the bed, “they won’t.”

He tossed both the sheet and the cloth he’d used to cleanse her, into the fireplace after stoking the dying embers back to life. He reached for her and held her naked body against his as they watched the linen burn. Once they were sure all evidence of their prolonged abstinence was gone, they climbed back into bed together.

Garrick curled his body around hers from behind as he pulled the thick duvet over them both. Hanako sank down into the warm cocoon of his embrace as they drifted off into sleep, sated and happy for the first time since exchanging vows.

Chapter 10

“Are you certain this is safe?”

Hanako eyed the porous sea sponges and the bottled solution incredulously. Darla stood beside her in the dimly lit basement of what appeared to be an antique shop. To the unsuspecting customer, Tab’s Antiquities and Curios was a respectable business, from the cluttered array of valuable antiques to the white-haired shopkeeper behind the counter. However, for the right price and utterance of a secret phrase, one could be ushered down into the shop’s secret room, where an old Gypsy woman named Eliza plied her trade.

The warm lower room smelled of exotic incense and was dimly lit by hanging lamps. Red and purple rugs matched sheer curtains that hung from ceiling to floor, giving the room a very sensual flavor, which Hanako supposed was the point.

Hanako knew that her face was on fire and twin dots of color had appeared on her cheeks, but she forced her eyes away from a case of long, glass instruments Darla had called ‘dildos’, and tried to focus on the items being described to her. Every few minutes, though, her eyes would wander back to the case full of devices Darla had explained were for self-pleasure and her face would heat up once more. She jerked at her collar and lifted one of the small sponges from its wooden box.

“Not only is it safe,” the elderly Gypsy woman said with a smile, “but they are the most effective method I have on hand. You merely soak them in the herbal solution and insert them before intercourse.”

“They can’t….get lost…in there…can they?”

Darla’s musical laughter filled Hanako with embarrassment, but she was determined to hold her head high and get through this encounter with her dignity intact.

“I thought it a valid question,” she said, casting Darla a sharp glance.

Darla smiled and patted Hanako’s hand with her gloved one. “Of course, dear, I did not mean to make fun. No, they will not get lost. In fact, allowing your husband to retrieve them for you could be just as pleasurable as letting him insert them.”

She raised a delicate, blonde eyebrow and grinned. “Think about it.”

Eliza placed the lid back onto the box as Hanako replaced the sponge. “If you’re not sure about these, there are always condoms.”

Hanako hated being ignorant. Ask her anything about weapons, combat, horses, or battle strategies and her knowledge was unparalleled, but this was entirely new territory for her.

“What are condoms?”

Eliza found another box and showed her what appeared to be the skin of an animal made into a sheath.

“They are made of sheep intestine,” Eliza confirmed. “Have your husband put it on over his prick and it’ll catch the liquid seed. No mess.”

Hanako’s eyes darted back and forth between both boxes. Indecision flared within her as she tried to decide between the two. After awhile, she decided on both. Eliza smiled and laughed with glee as she tallied up the total for her purchase. She happily wrapped both boxes for Hanako in brown paper before securing both with ribbon.

“I use the same paper and ribbon as the old man upstairs,” Eliza assured her. “No one will be the wiser.”

“Thank you,” Hanako said for lack of anything better to say.

“You’re most welcome, child. And don’t forget, I also carry herbal mixtures to stimulate the libido; comes in handy when a man gets too old to raise the sail on his own if you get my drift.”

Hanako remembered Garrick’s raging arousal the night before and blushed. “I do not believe I have need for such a thing now, but I will keep that in mind.”

Darla purchased a box of the sea sponges and the two women left the basement establishment, as well as Tab’s Antiques and Curios. Once out onto Gladstone’s busy main street, Hanako handed her packages off to a waiting footman, who stored it swiftly in the carriage. Darla moved to the small phaeton she’d driven to the market and concealed her own purchases. She turned to Hanako as she adjusted the hem of her short, lace gloves.

“Best of luck to you darling,” she said with a smile. “Happy to have been of service.”

“I am most grateful,” Hanako replied as she tied the ribbon of her new bonnet beneath her chin. While she had done some shopping before meeting Darla at Tab’s, she still had a long day ahead of her if she was to assemble a trousseau to please Garrick. Her husband had forced her to bring slip of paper on which Mrs. Mansfield had listed all of the items necessary. So far, Hanako was less than halfway through.

The two women said their good-byes and parted. As Hannah jumped down from the carriage to join her, the two women moved across the busy street to a shop specializing in ladies shoes. She felt a smile tugging at her lips as she linked her arm through Hannah’s. Now, all of her worries were washed away. She could enjoy the attentions of her husband without worry. For the first time since meeting Garrick, Hanako felt as if she had regained control over a portion of her life. A small portion it may be, but it was enough to put the spring back into Hanako’s step.

****

“No, absolutely not!”

Garrick paced before the bed, his hands clenched behind his back and the corners of his mouth white with fury. Hanako sat on the edge of the bed, the box of sea sponges resting in her lap. Just two hours before dinner she’d returned and now her packages were strewn about the room, waiting for her and Hannah to unpack and store. Hanako had greeted Garrick upon his arrival home, eager to tell him that she’d bought every item on his list and then some, as well as show him her secret purchase from Eliza’s basement shop. She had not expected to be faced with anger.

“I do not understand,” she said as she pushed the box aside and stood. “Eliza assured me that they are perfectly safe.”

Garrick loomed over her, one of the small sponges gripped between two fingers. He held it up in her face and shook his head.

“This is unnatural. I will not allow you to put this inside of your body and I will not put one of those things on either. You submitted to me Hanako and that means—”

“That means what?” Hanako said, her voice rising slightly as she curled her fists at her sides. Anger jolted through her and set her blood to blazing. “You think that I’ve changed my mind about wanting children? I do not recall telling you so.”

Garrick tossed the sponge across the room and raked his hands through his hair. “I knew that you had strong feelings about pregnancy and childbearing, but I didn’t think you would go through such lengths to ensure that my seed could not take root.”

Hanako’s expression softened as she noticed the dejection in his eyes. His mouth curved down just as he turned his back to her, the tension in his shoulders pulling at the fabric of his coat. Hanako closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back.

“Please Garrick, I do not wish for you to see it that way. This is not about you or my wanting to reject you. I am just not ready for children right now. Why can’t you understand that?”

Garrick shrugged out of her hold and strode for the door. Hanako felt her heart sinking into her stomach as he swung it open and glared back at her over his shoulder.

“I do understand,” he said. “I understand perfectly. You needn’t worry about becoming pregnant anymore, dear wife. I won’t be troubling you for entrance into your bed again.”

Stunned, Hanako sank back onto the bed as the door slammed behind him. She could hardly believe Garrick’s stubbornness. Hanako had hoped that he’d be happy, knowing that she was willing to please him despite her fears. She had obviously been wrong. Now, Hanako didn’t know what to do to mend things with Garrick, but she had learned that it was best to leave him to his own devices when he became angry. Hopefully, he’d be better able to see reason once he calmed down.

Hanako had just decided to unpack her parcels, when a gentle knock sounded on the other side of the door.

“Come in,” she said as she moved to start unpacking gowns. She paused after laying a periwinkle walking dress across the bed and turned to find Kendrick loitering in the doorway. A smile softened Hanako’s features, her fight with Garrick forgotten. She motioned for him to enter.

“What brings you here with such a sour face?” she asked as Kendrick came to rest at the foot of her bed, the toe of his left foot digging into the thick carpet.

“I’m bored,” he whined. “I’ve been stuck inside because of the rain all week.”

Hanako studied the boy’s pale face and sweat-slick forehead. She doubted Minnie even knew Kendrick was out of bed, let alone fully dressed and wandering around the house. Sadness pricked her heart as she realized that he was becoming ill and guilt washed over her as well. She hadn’t had much time to spend with him in the last few days, what with the wedding ball to plan and trousseau to buy. Since Garrick was angry with her, she doubted he’d be joining them for dinner, which gave her an idea.

“How about a picnic dinner in the solarium?” she suggested.

Kendrick’s eyes lit up and he smiled. Hanako was relieved that he wasn’t begging to go outside. With its floor to ceiling glass windows in place of wall panels, the little sunroom would give them the feel of being outdoors without their having to venture out. The air was still a bit damp and muggy from the week’s rain and Hanako did not wish to worsen Kendrick’s coming sickness.

“May we ask Mrs. Holmes for lemon tarts and cream?”

Hanako nodded, knowing that the cook had whipped up a fresh batch just that afternoon.

“We shall have them and a few slices of chocolate cake as well.”

Kendrick’s blue eyes went as round a saucers. “Two desserts?”

Hanako laughed and linked her arm through his. “Only if you promise not to tell.”

****

He was acting like a jackass. Garrick had known it the minute he left Hanako alone in their chambers, but pride had propelled him down the corridor, through the main hall and out the front doors. He was now riding across Willow Cross’ open fields, his coat buttoned against the misty air.

Now that he’d had time to digest Hanako’s suggestion, Garrick saw the use of the sponges and lambskin condoms as practical and logical. Both practicality and logic were part of his wife’s character and he honestly couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken that to account when first faced with the items. Hanako hadn’t been rejecting him as he first felt when informed that using those things would keep his seed from taking root. She was merely looking for a way to enjoy intimacy with him without fear of conceiving before she was ready.

Garrick cursed himself for a fool as he turned to make his way back toward the house. Once inside, he removed his coat and hat and handed them to Ames. Mrs. Mansfield greeted him in the foyer.

“Gracious me, my lord! What on earth could you be thinking riding about in this ghastly weather?”

Garrick chuckled as the worried housekeeper wrung her hands and took in his disheveled appearance. He ran his hands through damp hair and shrugged.

“It’s not so bad Mrs. Mansfield. Have you seen Lady Overton? I am certain she’s had dinner by now.”

A smile broke out over her face and she motioned for Garrick to follow her. “Come with me.”

The two walked down the corridor to their left, passing the library, fencing room, as well as three sitting rooms. Garrick frowned as they neared the solarium.

“It’s the perfect solution, really,” Mrs. Mansfield said as they neared the door at the end of the hall. “This way, Master Kendrick can feel as though he is outside without being subjected to this horrid weather.”

She swung the door open silently to reveal Hanako and Kendrick, lying on a blanket together. Hanako lay on her back, her dark hair framing her face and Kendrick rested beside her with his head on her chest. Kendrick was sound asleep but Hanako stared out at the waning sunlight as it disappeared over the horizon.

“She’s good for him,” Mrs. Mansfield whispered as they watched the heartwarming scene from the doorway. “She doesn’t coddle him but shows him affection all the same. You did well in choosing a wife, my lord, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Garrick felt a lump rising up in his throat as he realized the truth in the housekeeper’s words. His heart clenched as he pictured Kathy in a similar position with Kendrick and knew that Hanako was the perfect fit in their little family. Yes, this was what they’d become in the short time since Garrick had brought her into their lives. He realized then that it didn’t matter if Hanako was ready for children of her own just yet. If she wanted five years, he’d give it to her. Hell, he’d give her ten. It was worth it to see both Hanako and Kendrick happy and content. He dismissed Mrs. Mansfield with a smile and a wave and entered the solarium. Upon hearing his footsteps, Hanako raised her eyes to his.

“Hello,” he whispered, careful not to wake Kendrick as he crouched down beside them. With the glow of the sunset kissing her skin and hair, Hanako had never been more beautiful to him. Well, perhaps the picture could be improved slightly if she was to remove her clothing, but Garrick tried not to think of that now.

“Hello,” she responded.

Garrick eyed the remains of their dinner and smiled. “I trust that you enjoyed your picnic?”

She smiled back at him, warming his heart even more by running her slender fingers through Kendrick’s dark hair. The movement was simple and she probably hadn’t even realized she’d done it, but it had a maternal feeling to it all the same. Garrick couldn’t have been happier than he was just then.

“Yes,” she said. “Kendrick has quite an appetite for one so slender. After dinner he ate four lemon tartlets and two slices of chocolate cake.”

“It is best that he eats now,” Garrick said as he ran a hand over Kendrick’s moist brow. “When he is ill, he hardly eats at all.”

“He is ill now, isn’t he?”

Garrick tried not to let worry show on his face, as it was clear Kendrick’s becoming ill distressed Hanako.

“It could be just a little cold,” he said nonchalantly. Yet his heart was fluttering madly in his chest at the thought that it could be something more, like pneumonia. Pneumonia had been what finally ended Kathy’s life. “Even so I’d best get him to bed.”

He scooped the boy up into his arms and stood. Hanako stood as well.

“I want to speak with you about something,” he said. “Would you meet me in your room? I’ll be there as soon as I’ve tucked Kendrick in.”

Hanako nodded wordlessly and left the solarium before him. Garrick cradled his son against his chest and carried him down the hall and up the main staircase to his room. Minnie was waiting for them and efficiently took over preparing the boy for bed. Garrick stayed to watch as she undressed Kendrick and deftly slipped his nightgown over his head, all without waking him. Once he was tucked in, Garrick bid Minnie good night and returned to his room. Hanako was waiting for him, seated on the now cleared bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Garrick sank down onto the bed beside her and studied her profile for a full five minutes before speaking.

“Show me how they work, your sponges.”

Hanako’s head snapped up and surprise filled her eyes. Her voice was a hoarse whisper when she responded.

“Really?”

Garrick nodded. “I’d very much like to see.”

Hanako stood and moved to her armoire, retrieving the small box she had showed him earlier. She handed him the box and disappeared behind the screen before coming back with an empty, clean bowl. He held the bowl while she placed one of the sponges in the bottom and poured an herbal mixture over the top of it. The sponge absorbed the liquid and Hanako replaced the bottle in the box and closed the top of it.

“That’s it,” she said softly as she stood in front of him. Garrick stared down at the small sponge in the bowl. “All I’d have to do now is push it inside before intercourse.”

Garrick knew about the little basement shop in Gladstone. Most men of the court did and many frequented the establishment with their mistresses. He’d never thought he would be using these types of measures with his wife, but as he stared up into Hanako’s eyes, he knew that he would now. Garrick realized with stunning clarity that he would do anything for her. He set the bowl on the bed, careful not to spill its contents and stood. Bringing his hands up to Hanako’s shoulders, he pulled her close and bent down until his lips hovered over hers. Instantly, desire swept over him and need slammed into his gut as her scent enveloped him.

“I think we should use them for as long as you wish,” he said.

Hanako’s eyes filled with tears and Garrick was taken aback. He didn’t think he’d ever see her so emotional.

“You do?”

He smiled and kissed the tip of her delicate nose. “Yes. I wanted you to trust me and you did. Now I am going to trust you to tell me when you are ready to stop using them. I only have one condition.”

“What?”

A slow grin spread over his face as he leaned in for a kiss. “You let me put them in for you.”

Chapter 11

“It is not good,” Doctor Olson said as he placed his stethoscope back into his bag.

Garrick closed his eyes and sighed, wrapping one arm around Hanako’s trembling shoulders. Kendrick had been ill for a little over a week and showed no sign of improvement. He’d been confined to his bed ever since the night of his picnic with Hanako and no amount of tea, broth, herbal ointments applied to the chest or time spent beneath a steam tent created by blankets could bring him out of it.

“This could be it,” the doctor warned as he zipped his bag shut and lifted it from Kendrick’s bedside table. “We have spoken of this in the past, my lord. You must prepare yourself for the eventuality of his death. There is a good chance that he will not come out of this. One day he could fall asleep and simply not awaken.”

Hanako pulled away from Garrick’s embrace and stood between him and Doctor Olson.

“What do you mean ‘a good chance’? Do you not even know?”

“My lady, in an illness like Master Kendrick’s, there is very little certainty. I cannot make promises.”

“Then why are you here? What good are you to him?”

Garrick grasped her by her arms gently but firmly, pulling her back against is body before she could launch herself at Doctor Olson. Shock rippled through him at her wild and emotional state, the likes of which he had never experienced before.

“Darling, Doctor Olson is only doing his job.”

“Nonsense,” she hissed, glaring at the doctor with defiant, dark eyes. “If he cannot do anything else for Kendrick, then we have no need of him. Away with you! Take your uncertainties with you!”

Garrick grimaced and glanced at Doctor Olson over Hanako’s head. He nodded once, dismissing the doctor as he pulled Hanako against his chest. Garrick felt tears dampening the front of his shirt as he held her.

“Come now sweetheart, you mustn’t carry on so in front of Kendrick. We have to be strong for him.”

It seemed such a hard thing to ask when he was barely holding it together himself. Even with his harsh, shallow breathing and ghostly white complexion, Kendrick looked better than both Garrick and Hanako combined. Red, bleary eyes from lack of sleep mingled with faces contorted into expressions of hopelessness and grief. Hanako trembled against him but no sobs came from her lips.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered as she pulled away from him, swiping at her eyes with her fingertips. “He is just a boy, a lovely, sweet boy and he does not deserve this. How can you bear it, Garrick?”

Garrick felt his heart contract painfully as he looked down into her ravaged face. Had she come to love Kendrick so fiercely in the time she’d been here? Her expression mirrored his and spoke of a heart rent in two.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully.

She lowered her eyes and took a step away from him, folding her arms protectively over her chest. Panic welled up in him as the guarded expression she had shed weeks ago fell back into place. He felt it as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and snipped the fragile chord binding them together. Hanako was shuttered, icy and untouchable. Garrick felt fear and sadness resounding in him at the sight of it.

“Hanako,” he whispered, holding one hand out to her. “Stay with me.”

Garrick knew she understood that he didn’t mean physically. He feared that emotionally, she was already gone. She took another step back, still avoiding his stare.

“I cannot do this,” she choked, her voice wavering as she fought to still it. “How can you bear to love so strongly when there is always the chance of loss? How does your heart take that kind of pain?”

Garrick reached for her, but she avoided him again, this time turning her back and facing the door.

“Please,” he said, knowing that his tone bordered on begging and not giving a damn. Their short time together had become too precious for it to become marred by this. He had a feeling that if he lost her now, he would lose her forever. If Kendrick died, then Hanako would never be the same and neither would he.

“Let me be here for you,” he pleaded. “Don’t turn your back on me, on Kendrick.”

Hanako’s shoulders stiffened and her spine went straight as a rod. “I am going to meditate,” she said, not acknowledging his entreaty.

Garrick sank down onto a chair beside Kendrick’s bed, burying his face in his hands as her silent footsteps took her from the room. He did not have the heart to follow her, not even to ask her to come back to him and Kendrick so that they could comfort each other. Just as he had when Kathy first died and he was left with a sickly infant, Garrick felt well and truly alone.

“You have to go back!”

Mudiwa’s face was fixed into a mask of determination. She folded her arms over her chest and stared down at Hanako from her considerable height. Ava and Nell flanked her, their expressions just as resolute. She had arrived in Gladstone less than an hour ago and found her friends there as well, coming in from a long day of training. The last few weeks had taken a toll on her, and Hanako now felt as if she were a ship that had been battered and tossed about in a storm. She’d made the mistake of telling them everything, and now they stood united against her in an effort to convince her to turn back.

“Your husband needs you,” Ava urged as Hanako turned her back on them. She busied herself with unpacking her valise and filling her armoire with breeches, tunics and stockings. They were all crowded in the small cottage she shared with Nell, and none of them showed any sign of leaving until she had explained herself.

“You do not understand,” she mumbled as she placed two pairs of riding boots at the foot of her bed.

“I do,” Mudiwa said, stepping forward to grasp her shoulders and halt her progress. “I have lost people I loved and felt as if I would die from the pain of it. But you cannot run from your trials and you cannot abandon the man you love because of them.”

Hanako reared back as if she’d been struck. Her voice was shaky as she spoke. “I do not love him.”

Ava arched a brow and chuckled. “Oh yes you do. The sooner you realize it and go home, the better off you’ll be.”

“Do you have any idea how worried he must be?” Nell asked softly. “This must be killing him.”

It was killing her too but Hanako would never admit it out loud. Yes, she was taking the coward’s way out and yes, she was abandoning Garrick in his time of need. Yet she couldn’t muster up the courage to turn around and go back to Willow Cross “I would appreciate it if you all would just mind your business,” she said, the picture of her normally stoic self. With her shoulders squared and her head high, she was able to pretend that she was the same woman she had been before marrying Garrick. “Just leave me be and tend to your own affairs. I will see you for training in the morning.”

Three sets of eyebrows shot up and three mouths pinched into grim lines. Mudiwa threw her hands up and sighed heavily.

“I give up,” she muttered as she turned to leave. “Let her wallow in her self-pity if that is what it takes for her to learn the truth.”

Nell was next to leave. She turned in the doorway to cast Hanako a pitying glance. “I’ll bunk with someone else tonight to give you some privacy,” she said gently and Hanako was grateful to see that her bunkmate could sense her need to be alone.

Ava remained where she stood, refusing to back down once faced with a challenge. Usually Hanako admired her stubborn nature; just now, she mentally cursed her friend to hell for it. She was in no mood.

“You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met,” Ava said once they were alone.

Hanako shrugged. “I could very well say the same thing about you.”

“I am not the one who is going to lose everything by being so pigheaded. I hope that you don’t take too long to dig your way out of that hole you’re in. Garrick might not want you back once you’ve pulled yourself up out of the mire. If Kendrick dies and you are not there, he will never forgive you.”

Hanako clenched her jaw and fought against tears for what had to be the hundredth time since the doctor had informed them that Kendrick would not live. She forced the emotion away and waved her hand at Ava in dismissal.

“I feel sorry for you,” Ava said as she made her way to the door. Hanako gritted her teeth and bit back a stinging retort as Ava’s voice filled her mind hauntingly. “Ever since you came here, I have felt as if you were holding yourself back from the rest of us. You are a valuable part of this sisterhood, but keep yourself from giving your all in hopes of keeping us  at a distance. I always thought that it was only temporary, that after you learned to trust us, your coolness would melt away. I thought it had, but now I am not so sure. If you don’t stop holding people at arm’s length, you are going to die alone.”

With that, Ava closed the door behind her, filling the small, one-room cabin with the sharp ring of finality.

You are going to die alone…

The words stung her, but Hanako could not find it in herself to be angry with Ava. She was one of the few people who dared to speak to Hanako so plainly and where she would normally admire such blatant tact, she now despised it. Damn Ava for making her second-guess her decision to leave Willow Cross behind. As she undressed for the night, she wasn’t sure anymore if it had been the best idea. Garrick was certain to be worried sick by now and by morning worry was sure to give way to anger.

Would she able to convince him that love was what had driven her away? Even though she’d denied it to her friends, Hanako knew in her heart that she loved Garrick and Kendrick. It was that love that burned her, seared her down to her soul and had branded her for all eternity. How could she ever bear it if Kendrick died? It would have been better if she’d never opened herself to the boy in the first place. Now, with the certainty of Kendrick’s certain death hanging over their heads, Hanako knew that they were both lost to her forever.

All the better, Hanako decided as she slid between her coarse, wool blankets for the night. When one did not form attachments, one could not be hurt.

Garrick was not sure what he’d been expecting, but he certainly was not anticipating finding Hanako’s room empty. He was even more surprised by the note he found resting on her pillow. In it, Hanako simply stated that she had business to attend to in Gladstone and would be gone for a few weeks at the most. As Garrick crumbled the note in his hands and sank down onto the bed, he knew that she had left the truth out of her short missive. Pain had driven her away, the agony of possibly losing the boy she’d come to love and she was never coming back.

What of him? Did Hanako not feel pain over losing her husband as well? Garrick had started to think that something had begun to blossom between them but now he wasn’t so sure. Anger swept over him and he pushed aside all thoughts of going after her. Hanako had made it perfectly clear that she did not wish to be bothered. He had no desire to go chasing after someone that didn’t want him. There were more important things to tend to, such as his dying son.

That decided, he stripped out of his clothes and lay beneath the covers. Garrick hoped that if he was able to find peace in sleep, perhaps the anger he felt over Hanako’s abandonment would dissipate. Yet try as he might, sleep would not come and he spent the night tossing and turning restlessly.

It was no better by morning and Garrick’s mood kept most of the servants away for most of the next day. Only Minnie intruded on he and Kendrick’s solitude, bustling in to apply more of the herbal salve to the boy’s chest and bring in fresh tea and broth. Aside from those few interruptions, they were blessedly alone and Garrick was able to wallow in his own self-pity and sorrow.

When Kendrick’s condition began to worsen, the sting of his pain was lessened by the realization that he had Hanako to lean upon. After Kathy’s death, Garrick had always known that Kendrick’s death would kill him. There was no way he’d be able to go on without them both. Then Hanako had entered his life and by the time Kendrick had fallen ill again, Garrick began to hope that if he lost his son, there would still be something in life worth holding on to. Now, as he reached out for his son’s limp hand, Garrick prayed silently and willed the life back into the boy’s frail body. Kendrick just had to live. If he did not, Garrick knew for sure that he would never be able to survive it now.

Chapter 12

After a few days of solitude in the lady knights’ compound without any word from Garrick, Hanako began to feel hopeful that her stepson had survived. She had tried not to think about her abandoned family as she went through her days. Hanako kept busy teaching hand-to-hand combat and taking on two pupils who wished to learn to fight with the naginata pole blade. By the end of the day, her body was exhausted but her mind continued to race, keeping her awake for hours past midnight.

She knew that if Kendrick died, Garrick would inform her. Even though she had left him, Hanako knew that he would at least want her to know that much. By the third day, Hanako began to find the state of not knowing to be unbearable. Hanako knew that Garrick would be furious and probably unwilling to see or speak with her at first, but she knew that she had to try. Losing them had seemed inevitable before but was now no longer an option. Where before, she had wanted to run, Hanako now felt the overwhelming need to return to Willow Cross, a place she had come to see as home.

Glancing at the small clock hanging near the door in her cabin, Hanako sighed. It was only minutes before midnight, but she just couldn’t wait. She would never be able sleep tonight and decided that now was as good a time as any to make the journey.

Purposefully, she crossed to the armoire and retrieved a fresh change of clothes. Nell entered their cabin just as she jammed her feet back into her riding boots. Nell sat her bow and sheath of arrows on the small table near the fireplace and frowned.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Hanako said distractedly as she slipped her own sheath of arrows over her shoulders and looped her bow across her chest. “Home.”

A smile broke out over Nell’s weathered face and she nodded, satisfied. “It’s about time.”

“I haven’t time for your gloating. It’ll be bad enough when Ava catches wind of this.”

Nell laughed as Hanako looped her sword-belt around her hips and sheathed her sword. She’d have much rather taken her naginata, but a sword was better for traveling. Besides, she didn’t think she’d have to use the weapon and was only carrying it as a precaution.

“I do believe I shall be the first to tell her.”

“You will have to. I don’t intend to wait around. Give my love and tell them I’ll send word of Kendrick’s condition as soon as I know something.”

“Safe travel,” Nell wished her as she breezed past her bunkmate and out into the warm night air.

Hanako nearly sprinted to the stable, where she moved quickly to the stall holding her stallion, Akihiro. In the darkness of the stable, she could hear the soft snort of the animals contained within the stalls. The fresh smell of hay filled her nostrils and mingled with putrid manure. Everything was as it should be, yet the stillness in the air alerted Hanako to the presence of another. Her back stiffened and she tensed, her hand pausing inches over her sword hilt as she scanned her surroundings with narrowed eyes.

She slowed her breathing, rendering her breaths silent and her chest almost completely still. In the darkness, she could only see Akihiro’s brown face and white nose and a few mounds of newly shoveled hay but footsteps warned her just seconds before a pair of arms grabbed her from behind. Strong limbs came around her, pinning her own to her sides and leaving her helpless. She wasn’t sure how someone had snuck past the guarded gate, but knew that an intrusion was not completely impossible. As Hanako made out the dark shadows converging on her in the dark, she knew that this attacked smacked of Kiyoshi’s gall.

The apparition in the middle leaned in toward her, and Hanako just barely made out his slanted eyes and neat, black mustache against pale skin. She glared at him as she struggled against the one holding her, lashing out with flailing legs to kick at Kiyoshi and the men on either side of him.

She counted four opponents, but knew that there could possibly be more. Her only thought as she broke the hold of the one containing her was of Garrick. If Hanako let these villains take her now, Garrick would never know what had happened her. Or he would know, but too late to do anything about it.

That could not happen.

As her feet slammed to the ground, Hanako crouched down into a sweeping kick and knocked Kiyoshi’s feet from under him. She sprung up like a cat, launching her body toward the man to her right. Her fist connected with his face twice and a gush of blood combined with his groans told her that the strike had hit true. The remaining two men both leaped for her at once, and Hanako used the shoulders of the one in front of her as a launching point for a neat somersault. She flipped over the man’s head, landing skillfully on her feet as the two crashed into each other and fell to the floor in a mangled heap.

Hope flared in her chest as she made a break for the open stable doors, determined to make it back to her cabin and alert Nell of the intruders. She had just gotten a taste of clean night air, when something thick and solid connected with her face, sending her sprawling back into the hay. Pain exploded behind her eye and she instantly felt it beginning to swell.

Kiyoshi’s blurred form loomed over her just before another blow rendered her unconscious.

****

Garrick watched the assembled guests in Lady Davenport’s largest drawing room with a fixed expression of polite interest painted on his face. He had closeted himself in Kendrick’s room after Hanako left Willow Cross and had refused to leave until Mrs. Mansfield and Ames forced him from the house.

“It’s not healthy for you to lock yourself away like this,” Mrs. Mansfield had said with a click of her tongue and a disapproving shake of her head. “You have yet to accept or decline Lady Davenport’s invitation to her musicale this evening and I think it’ll be just the thing to get you feeling like yourself again.”

“Yes, yes,” Minnie had agreed as she and Ames pushed him from Kendrick’s room. “Master Kendrick is on the mend and there is no need for you to continue hovering over him like a mother hen. That is my job, my lord, and don’t you forget it.”

While it was true that Kendrick’s condition had improved, Garrick was still in no mood for socializing. The fact that he had neither seen nor heard from Hanako had soured his disposition. He had hoped that a few days away would bring her to her senses. Garrick had even been prepared to forgive her for leaving, understanding that dealing with such turbulent emotion was new to her. But with each passing day, Garrick grew more and more frustrated and that had melted into despair.

Hanako was more than likely not coming back.

He had decided to try to forget about it for the night, hoping to concentrate on the evening’s entertainment: Lady Davenport’s six musically gifted daughters. Each one demonstrated her accomplishments in a short concert and Garrick tried to fight back boredom as he listened to violin, cello, and harpsichord solos in between rounds of warbled song. Once the little recital was over, Garrick had blended into the crowd, sipping Lord and Lady Davenports’ find sherry and smoking a rich cigar. From behind his haze of smoke, he could at least pretend polite interest in the evening.

The façade lasted until he spotted Lady Nell Tibbs in the crowd on the arm of her smiling fiancé. The large woman made a beeline for him the second their eyes connected, and her wide smile confused him. Did she not know that Hanako had left him? Was she even slightly aware of his misery? Still, he greeted her politely as she and Simon approached.

“Good evening,” he said cordially, nodding to Simon before kissing Lady Tibbs’ hand. “I trust you are well.”

“Very,” the lady knight said cheerfully as she surveyed the room with curious eyes. “Is Hanako not with you?”

Garrick’s blood ran cold at Nell’s question. His jaw hardened and his eyes flashed like cold ice chips.

“I do not know, Lady Tibbs. Am I wrong in assuming that she has been with you all of this time?”

Confusion alit in her eyes and she frowned. “But my lord, she left Gladstone two nights ago to return to Willow Cross.”

Dread uncurled in Garrick’s gut as he noted concern on Nell’s face. “Two days ago? Are you certain she was going to Willow Cross?”

His voice was choked with emotion as several thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Hanako had returned to him. She intended to come home.

Yet she had never arrived.

Nell nodded, her hand tightening on Simon’s arm. “I am sure of it. I saw her dressed and packing to leave. She said that she would send word of your son’s condition, but I just assumed that all was well when we did not receive a message from her.”

Garrick felt an acidic substance rising up from his stomach, setting his chest and throat on fire. He swallowed but the feeling remained, scorching him with fear and panic.

“We must alert King Serge,” he said calmly.

Nell nodded and Simon was already moving in the King and Queen’s direction. She reached for Garrick’s shoulder and squeezed firmly.

“It is Kiyoshi,” he said, rage boiling his blood as he pressed a shaking hand to his forehead. “That bastard has taken her, I know it.”

“We will find her,” she reassured him.

“Oh I have no doubt that we will find her, Lady Tibbs and when we do, Kiyoshi Taka will wish he’d remained in Edo.”

Nell nodded her approval and smiled. “Oh yes, I can see that you and I will get along just fine.”

Chapter 13

Hanako stretched as well as she could with her arms bound behind her back. She couldn’t be certain how long she had been trapped inside of a dark, windowless room, but decided that by the number of times she’d been given food and water it had to have been at least two days. The water was tepid and the food no more than stale bread, but it was something. When one of Kiyoshi’s hired goons entered to bring her meals, faint light from the hallway of what she supposed was an inn spilled into the room and revealed the dirty mattress she lay on, battered walls and chipped table with one chair. There was a single, thin blanket on the mattress, but Hanako couldn’t make use of it as she was laid on top of it and could not use her hands. She was unbound twice a day, long enough to eat and relieve herself in a bucket before she was locked away again.

Kiyoshi had yet to appear during the two days she’d been held captive, but Hanako was not stupid enough to believe that he would not. She was certain that he meant to lure Garrick here, wherever they were, and kill him, thereby freeing her from their marriage. Kiyoshi would probably force her into marriage with him before taking her back to Edo, a fate worse than death as far as Hanako was concerned.

It would not come to that, she decided. Hopefully, she would find an opening soon, some way to escape before Garrick was lured to certain death. While she knew that he could hold his own with a sword, she knew that Garrick would be no match for Kiyoshi and his thugs. As much faith as she wanted to have in him, she knew that Kiyoshi alone was a formidable opponent. Garrick didn’t stand a chance and Hanako was not going to stand by and allow him to die because of her foolishness. When she’d run away from Willow Cross, Hanako hadn’t thought about the fact that Kiyoshi was still at large. After Kendrick had fallen ill, she forgot about all else. If anyone had to suffer for her stupidity, it was going to be her and her alone.

She was jolted back to the present by the scraping of a key in the lock. A sliver of light appeared and one of Kiyoshi’s hired hands entered the room carrying more of the stale bread and a wineskin full of what she knew would be lukewarm water. When the man—the one whose eye she’d blackened—untied her and silently handed her the bread she was surprised to find it warm and slathered with butter. He reached into his coat and brought out a small sack containing several apples. Hanako sniffed the bread warily before taking a bite, deciding that she would need her strength to carry out her plan…once she thought of one, of course.

When he handed Hanako the wineskin, her eyes widened as she tipped it to her lips to find a dry red wine instead of water. She took another swig and cocked a brow at her warden. He rose to stand and shrugged as she polished off the bread and reach for an apple.

“Kiyoshi wants you ready,” he said as the second of the three henchmen entered the room with a silk robe draped over his arm. Hanako’s eyes widened as she recognized the garment as a kimono. Kiyoshi probably had several of them on his ship and intended for her to wear this one. It was extravagant, a canary yellow backdrop that reminded her of the gown Garrick had bought her for their wedding ball with a beautifully embroidered pattern of leaves, bamboo, and lotus blossoms in shades of pink, green, and orange. He had provided the necessary undergarments, she noticed, as his thug tossed the garments at her feet along with an obi and delicate pair of beaded slippers. The third man entered with a bucket of water, a cake of soap, and two drying towels.

“Get cleaned up and put those on,” the second man said once the other two had exited the room. “Mister Taka wants you prepared to leave within the hour.”

Hanako eyed the garments and steaming bucket of water incredulously. “Leave? To go where?”

“Pennington Lane. Your husband has been invited as well.”

As the door slammed behind him, Hanako realized that it was too late to formulate a plan of any kind. Pennington Lane curved around an outcropping of dense trees just outside of the village of Ulas, which concealed a flat green field. It was well-known among members of the court and had seen much bloodshed. For decades, men of the court had been using it as a dueling field.

Hanako hurriedly stripped out of her grimy clothing, grateful at least for the change of clothes and hot water. Her mind whirred chaotically as she dressed and tried to formulate some sort of plan but she could think of none.

Within half an hour, Kiyoshi himself returned for her and stood framed in the doorway wearing the formal kamishimo dress usually worn in Edo by samurai visiting the shogun or at formal affairs. His black kimono was accompanied by wide-legged hakama trousers made of stiff, navy and black striped silk, and a kataginu jacket boasting the Taka family crests on the front, shoulders and back. His hair hung in a long braid down his back and his katana, the swords carried only by the samurai class, hung at his side.

“Ah, that is more like it,” he said with a smile that did not quite reach his cold, soulless eyes. “I despise seeing you draped in the fripperies of Western wear.”

“You have donned their clothing while here as well,” she retorted.

He waved his hands at her in dismissal. “I do what is necessary to make the fools who live here as comfortable with me as possible. It worked on your queen and everyone else I have encountered here. As you and I will be returning home soon, I decided that we would be better suited in the attire of Edo.”

He took a step toward her and stroked her cheek. Hanako slapped his hand away, only to have her own wrist captured in Kiyoshi’s meaty fist. He loomed over her, his eyes dark and dangerous as he jerked her unwilling body against his.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking that you will escape me this time,” he hissed. “You are my wife, whether you wish to be or not and this time I will make sure that our union is bonded in flesh and blood. Before this night is over you will be mine in every way and your lover’s body will be at the bottom of the ocean.”

Hanako’s eyes narrowed and her breath sawed in and out of her lungs rapidly as she raised her chin in defiant challenge.

“No. Before this night is over, it will be your body sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”

Kiyoshi’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he propelled her toward the open door, his grip on her arm tight and bruising.

“We shall just have to see about that.”

****

Garrick stood alone on the field off Pennington Lane as instructed, with nothing but a sword at his side. He did not dare go against Kiyoshi’s instructions when he didn’t know what condition he would find his wife in, but he hadn’t come without some insurance. He scanned the line of trees in the distance carefully, finding no sign of Nell, Mudiwa, or Ava. Garrick knew that they were there but the fact that he could not see them brought him no end of relief.

He was not a foolish man. Kiyoshi Taka was of the warrior class in Edo and Garrick was a politician. While he was proficient with the weapon at his side, he knew that should Kiyoshi overtake him, he didn’t stand a chance. He would need all of his faculties about him and promised not to allow anger to cloud his judgment. The lady knights were here for Hanako and he had been sure to remind them that they were to waste no time getting her out alive should he be killed. While Garrick didn’t intend to die and leave his wife and recovering son alone, he knew that it was a possibility.

A carriage came careening around the bend and Garrick gripped the hilt of his weapon, watching as a cloud of dust grew larger as the vehicle drew closer. Four mismatched horses came to a stop, halting the plain carriage behind it. The driver remained at his perch as the doors on either side flew open. Kiyoshi leaped down, followed by three men, two of whom held Hanako. Her wrists had been bound behind her back and they pulled her along, not gently, eyeing him suspiciously as they neared.

Garrick felt pangs of relief resounding through him as he realized that Hanako was mostly unharmed. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but notice that she was radiant in the Japanese-style gown she wore. He felt his hand curling into a fist when his eyes came to rest on the purple bruise beneath her eye. His nostrils flared and the primitive urge to kill washed over him.

Garrick inhaled deeply, hoping to calm himself before the fight. The last thing he needed was to lose his head.

“I am here as you instructed in your letter,” he said as Kiyoshi broke away from his group. “Let her go.”

Kiyoshi grinned, a gruesome parting of lips and flashing teeth that made his blood run cold. “I think not. You and I have unfinished business to attend first and if I have my way, I won’t have to let her go ever again.”

Garrick’s bicep flex and his forearm tensed as he unsheathed his blade. Hanako fought against the hands that held her, her eyes wide with fear for him.

“Garrick, don’t!” she cried as her captors tightened their holds, keeping her firmly in place.

“You cannot save him so cease your squealing!” Kiyoshi shot over his shoulder as he retrieved his own weapon. “Let your precious lover fight his own battles.”

Garrick avoided Hanako’s gaze. The unveiled terror he found there would only serve to distract him. She had no way of knowing that he’d brought reinforcements and he had no way of telling her other than to glance in her direction and whisper, “Trust me.”

That seemed to pacify her and Garrick felt a wave of calm washing over him. For Hanako to trust him was all he’d ever wanted. This moment would be the true test and so far she was passing with flying colors.

Garrick and Kiyoshi moved to the middle of the field and faced each other, crossing their blades in the center.

“So we’re agreed then,” Garrick said as he met his foe’s gaze over the gleaming silver swords. “It is a fight to the death.”

Kiyoshi nodded, once. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The air seemed suspended in his lungs in the seconds that followed. Time slowed and his every nerve stood on alert as he and Kiyoshi charged each other.

It took Garrick some time to adjust to Kiyoshi’s foreign fighting style. He wielded his weapon with both hands, swinging and arcing so swiftly that Garrick could hardly keep up. He felt sweat breaking out along his brow as he thrust, parried, feinted and countered Kiyoshi’s every move. Kiyoshi’s eyes grew wide as he understood his opponents skill had been underestimated and Garrick felt the swelling of triumph in his chest as he feinted left and then thrust right, slicing into his enemy’s ribs.

His triumph was short-lived, as Kiyoshi used Garrick’s forward momentum to grasp his arm and yank him off balance, bringing his closed fist down onto Garrick’s sword hand. Pain radiated up his arm as his weapon fell to the ground, making hardly a sound as it connected with the soft grass. Garrick fell face-first and felt the rush of air the preceded Kiyoshi’s leg flying through the air toward him.

Garrick rolled just in time to grasp the offending limb and twist it, spinning the villain dizzily before toppling him to the ground. As Kiyoshi struggled to his feet, resting on an injured ankle by the looks of things, Garrick lunged for his weapon, which lay a few feet away. He gripped the handle of it just as Kiyoshi found his and the clash of steel resounded as they met in the middle.

The pain from the blow sustained to his wrist made Garrick’s movements sluggish and less refined and he felt his strength waning as the fight drew on. He thought for sure that it was over when Kiyoshi’s blade found his shoulder. The sword pierced him through and exited through his back, filling his chest with a burst of pain that radiated out through his entire body. Hanako’s screams pierced his thoughts and caused him to maintain consciousness as he dropped to his knees in the grass.

What followed happened so quickly, that if Garrick had blinked, he would have missed it.

Hanako’s screams filled his ears as Kiyoshi snatched the blade from his shoulder, eliciting a bellow of agony from his throat as white-hot pain gripped him. In a feeble attempt to defend himself, Garrick lifted his sword just in time to block the blade singing down toward his head. He trembled as he fought with all his might to keep Kiyoshi’s sharp blade from continuing on its treacherous path. The steel glinted only inches from his face and Garrick thought for sure that his life would be ended in moments.

The whirring of something flying through air shattered the impending doom. Steel scraped against steel and the weight of Kiyoshi behind his weapon was instantly relieved. Garrick’s arm fell and his sword plunked to his side as he faintly caught the gleam of a battleaxe resting beside him in the grass. It had come sailing through the air to knock Kiyoshi’s blade from his hand. Garrick thanked the heavens for Ava Longley’s precise aim.

The thundering of horses’ hooves followed, along with the enraged battle cries of three ferocious women. They leaped from their horses when they drew near, running to meet the three hired hands who thought themselves equally matched to the lady knights. Ava—still holding one of her two axes—swung her weapon high over her head as she ran toward her challenger, her mouth opened wide in a vengeful roar. Her feet left the ground as she sailed toward the man who realized, too late, that he was no match for her. Ava’s axe connected with a sickening thud and crunch, lodging in her victim’s face as he crashed to the ground. She retrieved the weapon without missing a step and leaped over the fallen body, sprinting toward Hanako, who had fallen to her knees with her hands still tied behind her back.

Nell swung her thick club as if it weighed no more than a tree branch, sending a gory spray of blood splattering across the grass. As she fell in beside Ava, Garrick realized for the first time that she also carried Hanako’s naginata.

In movements that happened within the blink of an eye, Ava had sliced through Hanako’s bonds with her bloody axe and Nell had tossed the heavy pole blade to her. Hanako caught the weapon and extended it toward Kiyoshi, who was already charging toward her with his sword gripped and held up over his head.

From the corner of his eye, Garrick just barely caught the flash of Mudiwa’s breastplate as she bent into a crouching position before springing through the air at the last remaining thug. She caught the man around the neck, taking them both to the ground. They rolled until Mudiwa was beneath him with her legs wrapped around his waist. With a gut-wrenching crunch, Mudiwa twisted her rival’s neck and rendered him motionless.

That left only Hanako and Kiyoshi. While Garrick had hoped to find the hateful man on the edge of his sword, he found deep satisfaction in watching the ensuing battle between Kiyoshi and his wife. If anybody deserved vengeance from the man who had almost stolen her happiness not once, but twice, it was Hanako.

Garrick struggled to stand with the help of Nell and Ava, and allowed one of them to fashion a makeshift sling out of the shirt they stripped from his back. All the while his gaze was riveted upon his wife, whose movements awed him with their precision and beauty. He had watched her perform her choreographed practice katas, but he had never seen her in a real live fight.

She was beautiful, like a magnificent bird swooping about the Pennington Lane field in a blur of majestic colors. He silently urged her on as she coolly and deftly handled the pole blade, integrating her sweeping and swinging attacks with kicks and punches to Kiyoshi’s middle. Within minutes they had both sustained injuries and Garrick began to wonder which was worse, the cut to Kiyoshi’s inner thigh, or the one across Hanako’s back. Her movements were slowed, but Kiyoshi was exhausted after having taken on first Garrick and now Hanako.

In one last desperate attempt at victory, he swung his sword in a precise arc meant to decapitate her but Hanako was prepared. She dodged the blow and crouched down, gripping her naginata with both hands as Kiyoshi advanced on her with his sword raised high.

“I did not think it would come to this,” he said through labored breaths as he loomed over her. “But you must have known that it would. You see, if I cannot have you than neither shall he!”

Fear ripped through Garrick as Kiyoshi’s blade began its final descent. Nell and Ava held him tightly but he struggled against them, knowing even as he wished it that there was no way he could get between them in time to take the fatal blow.

Just when it seemed as though Kiyoshi’s blow would land, she moved swiftly and dodged him, rolling over and thrusting the naginata forward. The curved blade at the end caught Kiyoshi through the stomach and the force of his swing brought him down onto the sharp edge until it appeared through the other side. His eyes widened as he looked down into the face of his vengeful killer and he groaned in pain as Hanako turned the weapon until he was flying over her head and landing on his back on the ground.

She was on her feet in an instant, her hands still wrapped around the weapon’s pole. Her face a contorted mask of rage, Hanako loomed over him. Blood spilled from the corners of his mouth as he lay, helpless and gasping for air.

“I made a vow to myself years ago that I would never be yours,” Hanako rasped as she put all of her force behind the naginata and twisted, causing Kiyoshi to cry out in agony. “I meant it!”

With one final twist, Kiyoshi’s eyes went dead, staring unseeingly at the sky above him. Hanako stood, staring down at him for several minutes without moving. Garrick dared not disturb her in this moment, in which she reveled in her glory.

Eventually, she pulled the weapon from Kiyoshi’s body and dropped it on the ground. She turned slowly, her face devoid of all emotion as if she were numb to all that happened around her. When Hanako’s eyes locked on his, her expression softened and her face broke into a smile.

Somehow, Garrick found the strength to pull away from the women supporting him to cross the distance between them. She lurched forward to meet him and before he knew it, Hanako was cradled against his chest, his good arm wrapped tightly around her. He held her close, not caring that the motion sent more pain radiating through his chest and shoulder. She looked up at him and he found tears in her eyes. Garrick brushed them away with his thumb before lowering his head to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed against his lips, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Garrick. How can you ever forgive me for leaving you? I love you. Do you hear? I love you and I promise I’ll never leave you again! Please forgive me, I’ll do anything!”

She trembled against him and Garrick squeezed her tighter, reassuring her of both his love and his forgiveness. He rested his head against the top of hers and inhaled her fragrance; one he thought would be lost to him forever.

Hanako drew away to look up into his eyes. She reached up to stroke his cheek and her fingers traced a path over his lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick and heavy with emotion. Her friends looked on silently.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Garrick smiled at her, his heart near to bursting with what she had just given him. Her declaration of love was unexpected.

“No,” he protested. “I walked into a dark study and found myself kissed by the woman of my dreams, a lady in distress. I thought to play the hero and rescue her.”

He paused, resting his forehead against hers. “But you see Hanako, it is you who has saved me from a lifetime of loneliness. You saved me. You saved Kendrick and now, I’m going to take you home and love you and cherish you and never let you go.”

Hanako looped his good arm over her shoulder and turned to help him toward the carriage.

“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Chapter 14

“He is so much like you,” Hanako murmured as she watched her son sleeping soundly in his bed.

Yes, she’d come to think of Kendrick as her son. Almost losing him had made her realize just how much the boy had come to mean to her. She had been more than relieved to return to Willow Cross and learn of his recovery. He was still a bit weak but his color was good, as was his appetite. Upon discovering that Hanako had returned to Willow Cross, he had promptly devoured several bowls of chunky beef stew to prove to his mama that he was doing well. Hanako wished that the pompous Doctor Olson was around so that she could rub his nose in Kendrick’s triumph.

“No,” Garrick said softly from where he stood beside her in the doorway. Beneath his clean shirt, his shoulder was dressed and bandaged tightly. “He is the very image of his mother.”

“Well yes,” Hanako agreed. “I have seen her portrait. What I meant is that he is like you in spirit. He is strong and determined and stubborn as a mule. He will continue to prove the doctors wrong, you mark my words. In ten years we will have a hale and hearty young man on our hands.”

As the two turned away from the boy’s room, closing the door behind them, Garrick draped his uninjured arm around her shoulders. They moved in the direction of their own chambers, exhausted after a long and eventful night.

“I think you might just be right,” he said.

They entered their room and Hanako closed the door with a relieved sigh. It felt good to be home, where she belonged. She should never have left. Which reminded her… “Garrick, there is something I wanted to say.”

“Hmm? What is that, my love?”

Hanako felt her face warming at the endearment as she cross the room to join him on the edge of the bed. She turned toward him, her expression earnest as she grasped his hands tightly in hers.

“I need you to know how awful I feel for leaving.”

“Hanako, you have already been forgiven. There is no need—”

“Yes, there is,” she interjected. “I need you to understand.” She paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “I have spent most of my life trying to avoid becoming my mother. A more broken woman could ever be found in this world. As a child, I often saw glimpses of a free and spirited nature, only to have them buried again beneath the veil of a silent and docile wife. I vowed to never allow my spirit to be taken from me, to be used as a vessel for a man to fill constantly with children until I grew broken and downtrodden. I never wanted to be anything other than a warrior and the idea of marriage and children repulsed me.”

Garrick squeezed her hand lightly in encouragement but remained silent. Hanako lowered her eyes and continued.

When we married, I thought to protect myself from it all. I hoped that by avoiding becoming too attached to you and Kendrick, I would be safe from all of that. I did not expect for the two of you to steal my heart so completely. I did not expect to grow to love you, but I did.”

“When Kendrick almost died, I did not think I would be able to survive it. I felt as if I were losing a child from my own womb, so great was my grief at the thought of losing him.”

Garrick nodded. “So you ran.”

Hanako lowered her gaze. “I am not proud of what I did, but I...”

Garrick cut her off with a deep kiss, gripping her face gently in his hands as he captured Hanako’s mouth with his.

“No more,” he said gently as he pushed her down to the bed. She lay back against the mattress as he leaned over her to kiss her once more. “No more talk of the past, only the future.”

Hanako nodded and raised her arms to him in a silent offering.

“I’ve missed you so much. Make love to me, Garrick.”

“One moment, my heart.”

Garrick left the bed long enough to disappear behind the privacy screen. While he busied himself with her sponges and solution, Hanako sat up and began removing the clean gown she’d donned after having the wound across her back cleaned. The cut was shallow and required no stitching or dressing. When Garrick reappeared, she was back on the bed, wearing only her linen and lace shift. His blue eyes twinkled like precious sapphires as he approached it, leaving the bowl of sponges on the nightstand.

He was over her in a flash, kissing, touching and kneading her pliant flesh. Hanako arched beneath him, spreading her legs wide to press her most intimate place against his in supplication. Only ten days had passed since the last time they’d been together but to Hanako it felt like a lifetime. She panted and writhed with need as Garrick’s hands came up to slip the straps of her shift down over her shoulders, baring the creamy skin of her shoulders and the rosy tips of her breasts. His mouth closed over one tightening peak as his hands busied themselves with the hem of her undergarment. Hanako’s fingernails scored his shoulders lightly as he suckled at her hungrily while baring her hips and the dark triangle between her thighs to his view.

“I want to take my time with you, love, but it feels as if it’s been so long,” he gasped as he sat up to remove his shirt and tear at his belt and trousers.

“It’s been an eternity,” she agreed as he reached across her to retrieve a fresh sponge. “Now Garrick, don’t wait.”

Hanako stilled his movements with a hand on his wrist as he leaned toward her with the damp sponge.

“We do not have to,” she said, fear clenching her gut even as she said the words. “If you want we can leave it.”

Garrick smiled, understanding and love radiating from him in an almost visible glow. Hanako had never felt more cherished.

“Hanako, someday I will give you a child. Someday your belly will grow with my seed and you will give birth to a beautiful baby. She will have my yellow hair and your exotic eyes and, preferably, your sword arm.”

They chuckled together at that last bit. Garrick’s face grew suddenly serious as he parted her legs and knelt between them.

“The time for that is not now,” he said softly as he caressed the hooded folds of her feminine mound gently. The slight caress trapped Hanako’s breath in her throat as his light stroke grew into a tingling caress. She threw her head back and pressed her hips against his hand, reveling in the tiny thrills he sent through her at his touch.

“I do not want you to stop using your sponges because you left and want to make it up to me. I want you to stop using them when you’re ready and only then. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” she cried breathlessly as his breath tickled her breast. He swirled his tongue over the nipple as he palmed her sex.

“Open for me, my sweet.”

Hanako opened, allowing her thighs to fall open as Garrick began to insert the sponge. He followed the device with his fingers, stroking her velvety inner walls until what was supposed to be a practical act became a sensual one. Garrick’s fingers teased her without mercy and his thumb slid through her slick folds to the hidden, sensitive bud at her center. A few circular strokes with the pad of his thumb and Hanako was careening over the edge, clutching at his shoulders as she rode the waves of her unbridled passion.

“Now Garrick!” she cried desperately as the fluttering spasms ripped through her. “I want you inside of me now!”

Garrick smiled once more before clamping his lips down over hers, engaging her tongue in a sweet and tender dance. When he pulled away, he gripped her gently around the waist and turned her until she was on her knees. One hand on her shoulder, Garrick leaned her over until she rested on all fours, her legs spread and her most intimate places bared completely to his view.

Garrick sucked in a ragged breath as he came up behind her, gripping her hips tightly in his hands. He caressed her skin lovingly, running his fingertips up her spine and down again as he slowly entered her. Sheathed to the hilt, he rested there for a moment, filling her with a longing for the delicious friction of his well-timed thrusts. As if he’d read her mind Garrick readily obliged, withdrawing until he rested just within her entrance before slamming forward again, sending pleasurable vibrations rippling through her core.

“You are mine,” he rasped as he repeated the motion, each thrust stronger and deeper than the last. “Tell me, Hanako.”

“Forever,” Hanako promised as she felt the raging storm of a second climax racing through her. “Always.”

Garrick’s movements became frenzied and less controlled as he leaned over, resting his chest against Hanako’s back. His hips pounded against her bottom, setting the rhythm of their loving with a rapid cadence. Hanako followed his lead, to meet his every lunge, eliciting cries of pleasure from Garrick as he pressed his lips against her shoulder.

In the instant that the intensity swelled and overcame over, Garrick plunged into her one last time and cried out in completion. He shuddered and trembled, pressing her down into the mattress with the force of it.

He lay over her that way for awhile, wrapping his arms around Hanako as he covered her protectively with his body. When they both found the strength to force motion into their limbs, Garrick rolled from on top of her and turned her to retrieve the sponge. Once he’d dropped it into the empty bowl, he pulled her against him and lay back against the pillows, cradling her head against his chest.

“I adore you,” he mumbled sleepily as he peered down at Hanako through lowered eyelids.

Hanako ran her fingers through the short, springy curls blanketing his chest. “And I love you. To think, this all began by chance, an accident of sorts, really.”

Garrick brushed his lips against Hanako’s forehead as he squeezed her tightly. He smiled against her skin and declared, “My love, I do not believe in accidents.”

~Epilogue~

“My lady, my lord, King Serge and Queen Isabelle have arrived. They bring guests with them as well.”

Hanako took in Mrs. Mansfield’s stricken countenance and smiled. Even in the few months since she’d come to Willow Cross, the staff were still not used to visits from royalty even though Isabelle had visited at least three times for tea. She knew there would not be many more visits for a while. Isabelle’s baby was coming in a few short weeks.

Hanako reached out to still the housekeeper’s shaking hands and smiled.

“I will see them immediately then. Where have you put them?”

“In the solarium,” Mrs. Mansfield said. “I had a table and chairs set up there and tea with a light luncheon. I thought that your guests would appreciate the view of the gardens. The blossoms are looking quite beautiful this season.”

Hanako patted Mrs. Mansfield’s hand encouragingly. “You did well. Rest easy, I will take over the duties of hostess now.”

Mrs. Mansfield curtsied and disappeared toward the kitchens just as Garrick rounded the corner with Kendrick on his heels. Ginger, the beautiful hound Garrick had purchased as a gift for Kendrick, was bounding about behind them. Hanako took one look at Kendrick’s dirty hands and face and Garrick’s windblown hair and knew that her boys had gone off on a wild romp across the grounds again. The red cast to Kendrick’s cheeks was caused by the sun instead of illness and for the first time since Hanako met him, his complexion was healthy and pink. His frame was even beginning to fill out as daily activity, fencing, running, and playing with Ginger, was doing him a world of good. While his illness was still very much a part of their lives, it didn’t rule it and Hanako no longer lived in fear of his death. She and Garrick had agreed to take things one day at a time and not dwell on the diagnoses of doctors who had so grossly underestimated their son. He had lived nearly six years longer than any of them had expected, after all.

“What’s all the fuss?” Garrick asked as the two came to a stop beside her with Ginger circling them all excitedly.

“Serge and Isabelle are here,” Hanako answered with a shrug. “Lunch as been laid out in the solarium and they have guests with them.”

Garrick wrinkled his brow and patted Ginger’s head absently. “Guests? Who do you suppose it could be?”

Hanako shrugged. “I am not sure but I do not wish our son to greet them covered in dirt.”

Kendrick laughed and dusted his hands off on his dirty breeches. “There!” he declared with childish glee.

Hanako laughed. “Oh, no you don’t! Upstairs with you and wash up properly.”

With a groan, Kendrick stomped toward the stairs, the loping dog hot on his heels. Hanako turned to Garrick and shrugged.

“What are we going to do with him?”

Garrick clasped her hand and dragged her in the direction of the solarium. “You tell me, mother dear. He listens to you better than he does me.”

“That is because I ply him with lemon tartlets.”

Garrick’s laughter preceded them into the sunroom. “Ah, so that’s your secret.”

His voice trailed off on the last words and Hanako came to a halt beside him. Her fingers tightened around Garrick’s and her lungs expanded with unreleased air. Isabelle and Serge stood, both gazing expectantly at Hanako as she stepped forward toward the elderly couple that had accompanied them to Willow Cross.

“Haha. Chichi,” she whispered.

Mother. Father.

Aiko stepped forward, her short, plump body wrapped in an elegant kimono. Her lined face broke out into a smile as she rushed forward to embrace her long lost daughter. Tears welled up in Hanako’s eyes as she was enveloped by her mother’s arms and familiar scent.

“My flower child,” Aiko cried in Japanese as she cupped her daughter’s face in her trembling hands. “It is really you?”

Hanako nodded, tears flowing freely now. “But how? When?”

Her father stepped forward and cleared his throat. The others stood back a respectful distance, unable to follow the conversation taking place in a foreign language but unwilling to intrude on the family’s private moment.

“We received a letter from Kiyoshi over one month ago informing us that he’d found you in this place called Barony. We boarded the first ship leaving Edo. We had to see for ourselves that you still lived.”

“I am well,” she replied. “I have a new life here, father. I am happy and loved and I am a knighted warrior.”

Pride swelled Tadao’s chest as he took her hand in his. It was the most affection she was ever likely to receive from him, but it was more than Hanako had ever experienced. A soft sob escaped her lips as she kissed her father’s wrinkled hand.

“Kiyoshi told us of your marriage but called the union false,” Tadao said. “When we arrived, we found our way to the palace and requested an audience with your king and queen. They were more than happy to fill us, through our translator, in on the events of your time here as well as those of the last few days.”

“Kiyoshi is dead,” she told them. “I had no choice but to kill him when he threatened my family.”

Tadao nodded and stroked his long beard. “Yes. Kiyoshi had become desperate for power of any kind after the samurai began to lose their standing in Japan. It was only a matter of time before he found such an end.”

“We are happy to find you well,” Aiko said, staring at her daughter’s face as if hardly able to believe what she was seeing. “And married happily! I never would have thought.”

Hanako chose that moment to motion Garrick forward and introduce him to her parents. It took a few minutes with Hanako translating Japanese to English for Garrick and back again for her parents but soon everyone had met. Hanako did not miss the sharp gleam in her fathers’ eyes as he assessed Garrick closely. She leaned against her husband affectionately, resting her hand against his strong chest. Try as he might, Hanako knew that Tadao would not find a flaw to condemn him. Eventually her father would come to respect and maybe even like Garrick.

“Perhaps we should sit down to eat and talk,” Hanako said first in English, then in Japanese.

“That is a very fine idea,” Isabelle spoke for the first time, running a hand over her round belly. “We did not want to eat until everyone was here.”

“Oh, but Kendrick!”

The boy chose that moment to come careening into the solarium with Ginger behind him. He stumbled but caught himself, resting his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. Kendrick straightened and bowed properly when he realized that every eye in the room was upon him.

“Come Kendrick,” Hanako encouraged softly. “Meet my parents.”

“You parents? Does that make them my grandparents?”

“Who is the boy?” Tadao asked at the same time.

Hanako addressed Kendrick first. “Yes. They can be your grandparents if you wish. They do not speak English but if you wish to speak to them, I will tell them what you say in Japanese.”

“What do I call them?” he whispered, taking them both in with wide eyes.

Hanako smiled and prodded the boy forward gently. “Call her Sobo and him Sofu.”

Kendrick walked forward and glanced at the two strangers warily before sticking his arm out for a handshake.

“Good day, Sobo,” Kendrick said to Aiko.

Latching on to the Japanese word for grandmother, Aiko promptly crushed the boy against her breast.

“Mago!”

Grandson!

Lunch was not consumed until half an hour later. No one could think of eating when such a joyous moment was swelling and wrapping around them like a warm cocoon. Hanako stood in Garrick’s arms and watched as Kendrick excitedly showed Ginger off to his grandparents. Despite the language barrier, Aiko smiled and Tadao beamed with pride as the boy led the dog in a merry chase about the room to the delight of all.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Garrick murmured as he placed a kiss behind her ear. “No such thing as accidents.”

Hanako mulled over his statement and knew it to be true. Kiyoshi had come to Barony intending to do her ill, but instead had put her on a path toward happiness and love. He had pushed her into Garrick’s arms and brought her parents back to her.

She smiled and joined everyone in laughter as Kendrick demonstrated a trick he’d taught Ginger a few days past.

“You know,” she said, “I think you’re absolutely right.”

Lady Knights of Barony (The Final Chapter)

Queen Isabelle of Barony watched from her place beside the glowing campfire. She sipped slowly at the spiced wine in her pewter mug and smiled at the scene before her.

Nell’s wedding had been earlier that day and the court would be hard pressed to find a happier woman in all of Barony. The ceremony was simple, although Nell had agreed to let Isabelle host it in the palace’s garden. After the ceremony and wedding reception, Isabelle had changed into a more comfortable and simple gown before allowing her bodyguards to escort her to an awaiting carriage.

By the time they reached Barony, the sun was setting and stars appearing in the darkening sky. Soon, another ceremony would begin. It was a different sort of custom, but one that Isabelle knew to be just as important. She had taken part in the same ceremony and understood more than anyone the feeling of excitement and expectation in the air. When she entered the women’s regiment compound, she found Ava, Mudiwa and Hanako waiting for her, already changed from their formal wedding attire to their breeches and armor. Nell was gone to her estate for a two week stay with her new husband. She would take part in the next ceremony as they all knew there would be many more to come.

They walked silently to the center of the compound where a large fire was being built and wooden tables were filled with food and casks of ale and spiced wine. When the moon was high in the midnight blue sky, the lady knights and officers of the women’s regiment gathered around and the new recruits, ten in all, were escorted into their midst.

Isabelle did not know them as well as she wished. Her pregnancy kept her from participating in training but she knew that rest was a necessary part of carrying and delivering a healthy child. However, as she gazed upon them, one by one, she recognized much of herself in each of them. She had come to Barony, a pampered and spoiled princess. The three ladies standing beside her had changed that and now she was proud to stand beside them, one of them, their sister.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Ava asked once all of the recruits had been gathered.

Isabelle smiled. “I think not. I do so love to hear these words come from your mouth as they remind me of another time and my own transformation.”

She motioned for Ava, her friend and captain, to step forward. “If you please.”

Ava nodded and took her place at the center of their tight circle. She was just as proud and stunning as she’d been the first time Isabelle had laid eyes on her. If anything, the love of her husband had only enhanced those qualities. Isabelle gripped the hands of Mudiwa and Hanako, proud to call them her sisters despite their obvious differences. These two women had come to these shores broken and lost and now were whole. Isabelle had heard their stories and mourned for them the things they’d lost. As she observed Mudiwa’s wide smile and Hanako’s twinkling eyes, she knew that they regained all of what had been taken from them with more to spare.

Ava’s voice, loud and clear, broke through the path of her thoughts and brought her attention back to their circle. The words were forever ingrained into her memory, but Isabelle listened closely as if hearing them for the first time.

“We are gathered to welcome you into the sisterhood that is the women’s regiment.”

Ava’s voice rang out over the crackling fire as she motioned for the recruits to kneel. Each of them fell as one to their knees, gazing up at Ava with the same wonder that had once been captured upon Isabelle’s face.

“We continue the tradition of those brave warrior women who have gone before us. Women such as Queen Vishspla who continued to fight, even after losing her leg in battle. Women like Hua Mulan of China who dared to dress as a man and fight in her father’s place, Jeanne d’Arc who at the tender age of nineteen became one of the greatest warriors of her time. The courage that ran in their veins now runs in ours. They are our sisters and now so are all of you.”

Then came the placing of golden chest plates over each woman’s chest and Isabelle stepped forward to bless them each with a kiss on the hand. Hanako appeared with an armful of long, silk scarves that were red on one side and gold on the other, Barony’s colors. Each woman was draped with the scarves and bid to rise.

Ava faced them with her hands on her hips and her smile wide. “Rise, lady warriors of Barony. You came here weak and helpless, but you leave here mighty and fierce.”

Isabelle felt tears stinging her eyes as the officers converged on the group of new recruits to welcome them to the regiment. As she fell into a separate, smaller huddle with her sisters, she eyed the larger group and wondered who among them was next. Which of them would captain the next generation of Lady Knights? Which of them would provide the steady calm that Hanako brought to their group or the vigilant loyalty of Mudiwa? Which of them would bring Ava’s legacy of spirit and pride or Nell’s warmth and kindness?

Isabelle could not be sure for now, but one thing was clear. The Lady Knights of Barony would continue in their legacy. It would never be broken.

Courage.

Loyalty.

Sisterhood.

This was what they stood for.

Isabelle could not be happier to be a part of it.

****

The wind rushed out over crashing waves, sending a magnificent spray of water upward toward the bow of the freighter cutting through the sea. White foam kissed the wings of the black raven straining for flight from the ship’s bow. Black sails rose high and proud against the morning sky as the occupants of The Raven left her deck. The owner of the ship glanced over his shoulder at the vessel one last time, bidding his beautiful ship adieu. It was no longer safe, nor practical, for him to continue sailing the Caribbean Sea in a ship that was synonymous with his very identity.

Anger swirled low in his gut as his mind lingered over the events leading him to this end. Andrew Forsyth/Dorian Blake was a fugitive from the law. The French government had seized his lands on Martinique and he did not even need to sail within one hundred leagues of Cardenas or Barony to know that his grandfather’s estate was now in the hands of someone else.

“She has been a faithful vessel, mon ami,” said Geoffrey as joined Dorian on the dock of the British controlled island of Anguilla. “It is a shame that we must say good-bye to her.”

Dorian pressed his hand lightly to the bandage covering the wound through his middle and sighed, willing away the pain and weakness that the nearly fatal blow had caused.

“We’ve still got each other Geoffrey,” Dorian said with a dry laugh as the two made their way across the busy dock. One of Geoff’s contacts was interested in purchasing The Raven and the money would bring more than enough for Dorian to find a townhouse. There would be plenty left over for him to live off of until he could get back to the business of dealing in human flesh. He eyed the occupants of Anguilla with undisguised interest. The creamy flesh of England’s ballroom roses mingled with those darkened by the blaze of Africa. Oh yes, the possibilities here were endless. It would not take him long to gain back what he had lost.

The heat was oppressive and the sweat aggravated Dorian’s wound, so he was grateful when they were finally ushered into the offices at Craig & Dean Trading Company. Mister Avery Dean greeted them warmly and offered them Ti punch, which Dorian accepted gratefully. He opted to recline in the office’s plushy outer room as Geoff entered Mr. Dean’s private working area to complete the deal.

A few minutes later, Geoff returned and placed the chest containing the money in Dorian’s hand. He smiled as he flipped the lid and was greeted with the sight of shimmering gold. This, added to his payment from Mister Kiyoshi Taka would be more than enough for his goals. He frowned as he noted Geoff’s distraught expression.

“What is it Geoff? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Monsieur, I’m afraid I have rather distressing news concerning your estates.” Another twinge worked its way through Dorian’s middle as he stood, clutching the heavy chest close to his side.

“I do not wish to speak of such things, Geoffrey. I am destitute and have been beaten by a bunch of women. Must you remind me that, perhaps right this moment, my property is being auctioned off to the highest bidder?”

Geoff cleared his throat. “There will not be an auction, Monsieur, this is what I am trying to tell you. Mister Dean had some very enlightening information for me.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow at Geoff, curiosity stronger than his desire to avoid news of whom his new property would belong to.

“What else would they do with it? I am the last remaining Forsyth heir, unless there is a child somewhere I do not know about, à Dieu ne plaise.”

“There is no child, Monsieur, although there is another Forsyth male. It would seem that you are in possession of another sibling, a half-brother that was recently discovered.”

Dorian’s brow wrinkled in consternation. “Half-brother? What the devil are you talking about?”

“Apparently you are not the only one with a voracious appetite for variety. You have an older half-brother, the bastard son of a housemaid in Barony. According to Mister Avery, who is related by marriage to the solicitor who drafted your father’s will, all property is relinquished to this man in the event of your death. Since you are, in the eyes of the French government, as good as dead, all of your assets have been turned over to a man by the name of Adrian Wilshire.”

The cheroot that he’d retrieved from his jacket pocket crumbled between trembling fingers. The smell of aromatic tobacco filled the room and mingled on Dorian’s palette with the taste of anger and bile in his mouth. It wasn’t just that someone else was now the owner of his estate. That was an eventuality he had been willing to accept but this, the discover of another heir, one gifted with everything Dorian had owned and worked so tirelessly to maintain…this was more than he could bear. The familiar bloodlust came roaring to life, pumping along with adrenaline to rid Dorian of his pain and his melancholy. A malicious smile curled his mouth as he turned to grasp Geoff by the shoulder.

“Mon ami, this is a most interesting development. I believe a journey to Barony is in order, vous ne pensez pas?”

Geoffrey maintained his stoic expression as he nodded. “Naturally. How soon would you like to leave?”

Dorian pulled a fresh cheroot from his coat and lit it with the expert flick of a match. He inhaled deeply and sighed, the humming in his veins now too intense to ignore. Tonight, Tanya would experience the full extent of his disposition, pain or no pain. And then…oh, then would come the fun part. Adrian Wilshire hadn’t the slightest idea what he’d just gotten himself into. He turned to Geoffrey and smiled.

“Immediately.”

****

Dear Reader,

After writing ‘The Second Son’, I was all set to move on to book 3 in the Kings of Cardenas Series. The book was planned down to the last detail and I had every intention of releasing it this summer.

Then the reviews and emails started rolling in and changed the course of this series.

That is why I have dedicated this book to you, the readers, for making this book happen. If it had not been for you telling how much you loved the Lady Knights, it would never have been written.

When I began my research on historic women warriors for ‘The Second Son’, I knew that they would have a tremendous impact on Isabelle of Barony’s story. I didn’t know that they would impact all of you as well. I am sad to see my lady knights riding off into the sunset, but happy to have gone down this path in the series.

I encourage you all to continue to review my books and write to me. You see, I write thinking to inspire others, but with your feedback you inspired me and I thank you.

For those wondering about book 3, be looking for it around December 2012/January 2013. That story picks up right where book 2 left off.

As always, I wish you happy reading,

Elise

Historical Notes

While the kingdom of Barony and its regiment of female warriors is entirely fictional, the concept of women fighting to defend home and country is not as obscure as some may think. I learned a lot while researching historical women warriors in preparation to write this book. As it turns out, women like Ava, Mudiwa and Hanako have been kicking butt since the dawn of time!

The character Mudiwa hails from Africa. The Mino of the Fon tribe, were known to the Western settlers as the Dahomey Amazons. The actual existence of Amazons has been questioned over the years, but historically the stories of the Dahomey Amazons are accurate. The women, royal wives, were trained as royal body guards before being militarized. Some were said to have come from a class of huntess known as the gbeto. Like Mudiwa, they hunted elephants for tails, tusks, and glory. They learned to use rifles after the invasion of the white Westerners. Like Mudiwa, they were forbidden families and children so that they could focus entirely on their deadly craft.

Hanako hails from Edo, Japan (now Tokyo). The onna-bugeisha, often called the female samurai, were also real figures in Japanese history. They were trained to defend their homes and family, and were considered part of an elite group. The naginata, or pole blade, was a weapon designed with these women in mind and they were proficient in the art of naginatajutsu. The onna-bugeisha became non-existent once the attitudes about male/female relations changed in Japan. Women were seen as servants and vessels for childbearing instead of equals. With the tide of change in Edo came the demise of the samurai as well.

About The Author

Elise Marion is a lover books and has a special place in her heart for sweet and sensual romance. Writing about love across all walks of life is her passion, as is reaching people through the written word. The Army wife and stay-at-home mother of two spends most of her time taking care of her children. Her second job includes writing stories about characters that people can fall in love with. When the Texas native isn’t caring for her family or writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, singing loudly, or cooking up something new in the kitchen.

More by Elise Marion

Fallen (Angels Among Us Book #1)

Now available

Tempted (Angels Among Us Book #2)

Now Available

The Third Son (Kings of Cardenas Book #1)

Now available

The Second Son (Kings of Cardenas Book #2)

Now available

Cake

Now Available

The Valentine’s Masquerade

Now Available

Coming Soon

The Secret Life of Avery O’Dea

Coming August 31 from

Bottom Drawer Publications

Redemption (Angels Among Us Book #3)

October/November 2012

Gypsy Rose (Kings of Cardenas Book #3)

December 2012/January 2013

The Mistress (Kings of Cardenas #3.5)

2013

Please enjoy this sneak peak of book 3 in the ‘Kings of Cardenas’ series, Gypsy Rose.

Prologue

Barony 1857

The large, ornate carriage rolled to a stop in front of the tiny cottage at the end of the lane. The perfectly matched black bays were slowed to a stop by the driver. A liveried footman leaped down and swung the door open before offering his hand to the person inside.

A well-dressed lady stepped down and nodded her thanks to the footman. The warm sun seemed to peek from behind the clouds just to shine its rays on the enchanting beauty dressed in white sprigged muslin. The lavender ribbon and violet flowers on the brim of her veiled hat matched the floral pattern on the empire-waist gown perfectly. In her white-lace gloved hands she carried a frilly white parasol. A small reticule hung from one wrist. Wisps of inky black hair showed beneath the brim of her highly-fashionable headwear, and dark lashes were lowered over coal-black eyes.

She walked gracefully down the path leading to the front door of the cottage and paused, checking the tiny slip of paper in her reticule for the third time to ensure she had to correct address. This was it, she decided as she crumbled the paper and shoved it back down into her reticule. This was the place.

From the other side of the well-worn door, she could hear the screams and cries of young children. Whether they were playful screams, or tortured ones, she had yet to decide. She raised one gloved hand to knock on the door. After several moments, the door swung open and a bedraggled-looking woman appeared on the other side. Strands of mousy brown hair were falling loose from the coiled bun on top of her head; the heavy strands hung in a face that seemed permanently fixed into an expression of misery. Her large eyes sported large, dark circles underneath. Lines creased her face around her nose and mouth, even though the lady knew for a fact that this woman was only a few years older than her.

She wore a stained apron over a homespun dress that had obviously been patched several times. She held an infant in one hand and had another child wrapped around her leg. The little girl stuck her fingers in her mouth and glanced up at the beautiful lady in awe.

The woman frowned and glanced from the lady, to the carriage and liveried servants and back to the lady again.

“Good afternoon,” the lady said, lifting the veil of her hat back so that she could look the worn-down woman in the eye. “Are you Mary Forsyth?”

The woman nodded, shifting the infant to her other arm. “Yes ma’am,” she said in a small voice. The lady had to strain to hear her. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, confusion still creasing her features.

“Yes,” the lady said. “My name is Tatiana Brandon. I am looking for someone and I was told that you could help me find him.”

Mary sighed with resignation. Her posture seemed even more slumped as she leaned against the doorway. If at all possible, the lines in her face seemed to deepen right before her very eyes. Tatiana could tell that the woman had lived a very hard life.

“Andrew is not here,” she said, as if repeating the sentence for the hundredth time. “I have not seen him in over a year.”

Tatiana frowned. “Does he not remain in contact with you? Are you not related to him?”

Mary laughed dryly and eyed Tatiana with disdain. “I’m his wife ma’am,” she scoffed. “Not that he treats me as such.”

Tatiana felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. “But…but I’m Lord Andrew’s wife!” she protested lamely, clutching her churning stomach and praying that she would not become ill in front of this woman.

“Yes, you and about five other ladies,” Mary replied with a shrug. “It would seem that you were his latest conquest.” She eyed Tatiana critically. “You’re definitely the prettiest in the bunch.”

“Wait a minute,” Tatiana said slowly, fighting against the lump that was working its way up in her throat. “He’s already married?”

Mary nodded. “I’m his first and real wife,” she replied. “These are his children.” She indicated the baby in her arms, the toddler on her leg, and the two older children fighting on the rug behind her. “He dumped me here after Katherine was born,” she pointed down to the little girl hanging on her leg, “I’ve hardly seen or heard from him since. Well, there was of course that time one year ago…” she trailed off, tilting her head toward the sleeping infant in her arms. Tatiana could no longer hold back the tears that threatened her dignity.

Mary’s eyes filled with sympathy as the embarrassing droplets raced down Tatiana’s cheeks. Mary reached out a comforting hand and touched Tatiana’s shoulder. “I’m sorry dear,” she said. “You are not the first woman that Andrew has tricked this way. I fear that you may not be the last. He is charming and wonderful, and then he is gone, just as quickly as he appeared.”

Tatiana nodded. This was exactly the way things had gone between her and Lord Andrew Forsyth. He had appeared into her life out of nowhere, like something from a dream. Handsome, charming, and magnetic, he had drawn Tatiana to him like a moth to a flame. Because of her beauty, men had been falling all over themselves in her presence for as long as she could remember. Not one of them had affected her the way Andrew had. He was different. He was a gentleman; just the sort of man Tatiana had always dreamed of being with.

When he had asked her to marry him, she had been uncertain. Her family was wary of him from the start. Now it would seem that they had good reason to be suspicious of his intentions. When he asked her to run away and elope with him, there was nothing that could have stood in Tatiana’s way.

She had abandoned her family and forsaken everything she knew in the name of love. Now, only three months later, he was gone. The only thing he had left her with was a letter, placed on the bed at the inn they had inhabited. Tatiana knew the words of the letter by heart by now, she had read it so many times.

My dearest Tatiana,

By the time you receive this note, I will be gone. Words cannot express to you the depth of my pain in this moment. It is with deep regret that I must end our marriage. Please do not despair my beautiful flower, you have done nothing wrong. It is just that the hearts of some men are so very fickle. I admit to being that very type of man. It is not that I am an unfeeling sort of fellow. After all, you and I did have some tender moments together didn’t we? I honestly thought in my heart that I loved you. I have come to see that we have made a terrible mistake. I hope that in time you will come to forgive me and that perhaps someday we can be friends again. In the meantime, perhaps you should go back to your family. I am sure they will be relieved to have you home once again.

Your heartbroken and contrite husband,

Lord Andrew Forsyth

The letter remained at the bottom of her reticule, always a reminder of the crushing agony brought on by Lord Andrew’s rejection.

“If he should decide to come here, should I tell him you are looking for him?” Mary asked. “The chances are slim, but you never really know with Andrew.”

Tatiana shook her head quickly before swiping her hands across her damp eyes, forgetting the linen handkerchief in her reticule. “No,” she said vehemently. “There is no need. I found what I came here for.”

She really had. She had come for answers and gotten them. She had been under the impression that Mary was Lord Andrew’s sister. She had not been expecting to find another wife and four children. And who knew where the other women were? Did they spend their time waiting for their wandering husband to return? Did they have children as well?

Tatiana lowered her veil back in place. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said before turning to leave. She was halfway up the lane before she had a thought, and turned back to the cottage where Mary still stood, watching her. She removed the stunning brooch that her cousin had given her for her birthday. She removed her pearl earrings as well and placed them in Mary’s palm.

“You should be able to get a nice sum for these,” she said, closing the stunned woman’s fingers over the precious jewelry. “For your children,” she added.

Mary looked down at the jewelry before smiling up at Tatiana. “Bless you, ma’am,” she said, stuffing the items down into the pocket of her apron. “God bless you.”

Tatiana turned to leave once more. The footman was waiting with the carriage door open when she approached. Once inside the carriage, Tatiana thought to give herself over to the tears she had been so desperately trying to hold back in front of Mary. But as she stared out from behind the carriage window’s curtains, she found that she no longer had any more tears to cry. She now had what she needed to move on with her life. There was no need to seek Andrew out in any attempt at drawing up annulment or divorce papers. They were never really married to begin with.

As Tatiana leaned back against the plush carriage seat and closed her eyes, she gave herself over to the feeling that as now welling up inside of her chest. Greif and sadness were gone. Anger was nonexistent. There was nothing left to feel but bitterness. She felt it rising up inside, and did not try to contain it. She allowed it to swell and grow until she could practically taste its acrid flavor.

Marriage to anyone else was now, of course, out of the question. It was a wretched institution, one designed to keep a woman permanently under a man’s thumb. Just one look at Mary Forsyth had confirmed her belief. The bedraggled woman was tied forever in matrimony to a man who was not only unfaithful to her, but suffered no guilt over it as well. He came and went from the little cottage as he pleased, completely aware of the fact that he was leaving his suffering wife behind.

Instead of sadness over the knowledge that Lord Andrew had never really been her husband, Tatiana now felt relief. Never again, she said to herself. Never again would she allow herself to be in so precarious a position. To be under a man’s power was to be a slave, and Tatiana would never allow herself to become a slave to anyone. Marriage was absolutely, positively out of the question.

Table of Contents

Book One: The Hellion

~Prologue~

~Chapter 1~

~Chapter 2~

~Chapter 3~

~Chapter 4~

~Chapter 5~

~Chapter 6~

~Chapter 7~

~Chapter 8~

~Chapter 9~

~Chapter 10~

~Chapter 11~

~Chapter 12~

~Chapter 13~

~Chapter 15~

~Epilogue~

Book Two: Beloved

~Prologue~

~Chapter 1~

~Chapter 2~

~Chapter 3~

~Chapter 4~

~Chapter 5~

~Chapter 6~

~Chapter 7~

~Chapter 8~

~Chapter 9~

~Chapter 10~

~Chapter 11~

~Chapter 12~

~Chapter 13~

~Chapter 16~

~Chapter 15~

~Chapter 16~

~Chapter 17~

~Chapter 18~

~Epilogue~

Book Three: The Accidental Groom

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

~Epilogue~

Lady Knights of Barony (The Final Chapter)

Historical Notes

About The Author

More by Elise Marion

Coming Soon