A Taste of Paradise (19 page)

“That's none of your business.”

“It is now. I wrote to him.”

“How dare you!” She glanced at the door, wondering how long it would take Chris to arrive from the distillery. “Please excuse me; I have business elsewhere.” Head held high, she walked past him.

Rigby grasped her arm and swung her around to face him. “You owe me, missy. One way or another, I'm going to have you. I know it's too much to hope that you're still untouched, but it doesn't matter. Caldwell still owes me a gambling debt. You were supposed to repay it with your body, and I have every intention of collecting.”

Sophia struggled to free herself from Rigby's punishing grip. “You're hurting me. Let me go.”

“You heard my fiancée, let her go.”

Chris's voice held a note of menace. Sophia was sure he would have done Rigby serious damage if the older man hadn't released her.

“What are you doing here, Rigby? Didn't I warn you about annoying Miss Carlisle?”

“It's not your fiancée I've come to see, it's you,” Rigby replied, sending Sophia a disparaging look. “The others will arrive soon.”

“The others? What's this about, Rigby?”

The “others” arrived before Rigby could answer Chris's question. Lord Chester, Mr. Wombly and Mr. Humbart from neighboring plantations were ushered into the parlor.

“Gentlemen,” Chris greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We need to talk, Radcliff,” Chester said.

“It sounds serious.”

“It is. We heard you freed your slaves.”

“Ah,” Chris said, “so that's what this is about.”

“You had no right!” Rigby charged.

Chris angled a glance at Sophia. “Before you leave, my dear, I would like to make known to you Mr. Wombly and Mr. Humbart. You already know the other two gentlemen. Wombly, Humbart—Miss Carlisle, my fiancée.”

Sophia recognized a dismissal when she heard one and promptly excused herself.

Chris made sure everyone was seated before offering the men refreshments. They accepted a tot of rum all around, then got down to business.

“What you did affects all of us,” Chester charged. “Our plantations cannot survive without slave labor.”

Chris counted to ten before speaking. “I disagree. I cannot abide slavery in any form and followed my conscience.”

“How many of your slaves agreed to work for wages after you gave them their freedom?” Wombly asked.

“About two-thirds.”

“Two-thirds, bah!” Rigby spat. “You're a fool, Radcliff. This is a busy time—how will you replace them?”

“I posted notices in Kingston, advertising for free men of color willing to work for wages.”

“Any takers?” Humbart asked.

“I hired five men just yesterday and expect more to show up.”

“What you did was irresponsible,” Rigby argued. “You've caused problems for all of us planters. Word has spread. Our slaves are restless. They grow more agitated than ever.”

Chris shrugged. “Whose fault is that? If you treated your slaves like human beings, there wouldn't be unrest among them. You could free them as I did mine.”

“Insufferable bastard,” Rigby muttered.

“There will be none of that, Rigby,” Chester warned. “Keep your animosity to yourself. None of us like what Captain Radcliff did, but we have to live with it.”

“I'm not going to free my slaves,” Rigby maintained.

“Nor I,” Wombly agreed.

“My plantation has to support my growing family,” Humbart added. “I cannot manage without slaves.”

“I cannot tell any of you what to do. Each of you must live with your own conscience.”

“Pretty words, but I don't buy them,” Rigby spat. “You're a hypocrite, Radcliff. Doesn't living with a woman who's not your wife prick your conscience? If you intended to wed Miss Carlisle, you would have done so by now.”

“See here, Rigby,” Chester chided, “you have no right to insult a man in his own home.”

“I'm just saying what the rest of you are too polite to say,” Rigby retorted.

“This is getting out of hand,” Wombly observed. “We came here to discuss slavery, not the captain's fiancée.”

“Agreed,” Humbart injected.

“Gentlemen,” Chris began, “there is nothing further to discuss. My slaves have been freed, and that's the end of it.”

“Captain Radcliff is right, gentlemen,” Chester conceded. “The deed is done; nothing will change it. I suggest we return home and see what develops. Perhaps in time we, too, will see the wisdom in freeing slaves.”

Chris inclined his head. “Thank you, my lord. I didn't think my simple act would arouse such a firestorm.”

“It's not all that simple,” Rigby muttered. “There's going to be trouble, mark my words.”

“I agree,” Chris said. “But it's been coming for a long time. Though I haven't been a plantation owner long, I can taste rebellion in the air. That's why I acted so swiftly in freeing my slaves. I wanted to save Sunset Hill.”

“We can handle anything the slaves bring on,” Rigby bragged. “Rebellion is a way of life in Jamaica, but nothing has ever come of it. The slaves eventually return to their white masters and life goes on.”

The men rose as if on cue. “It's time we left, Captain,” Chester said. “Sorry to have disturbed you. We're all a little concerned, but who wouldn't be? We have families to protect.”

“I understand,” Chris replied.

“Your fiancée hasn't been to visit my wife,” Chester continued. “Agatha said to be sure to tell Miss Carlisle that she is eager to help plan her wedding.” He sent Chris a stern look. “There
is
going to be a wedding, isn't there?”

“Indeed. I thought a fall wedding would give me time to settle in here and Sophia the opportunity to grow accustomed to the climate. Jamaican summers can be brutal.”

Chester and the others took their leave, but Rigby lingered in the doorway. “I know you're not going to marry her, Radcliff. She's good enough for a whore but not for a wife. Tell you what. I'll take her off your hands. Name your price.”

His face as dark as a storm cloud, Chris thundered, “Get out! Don't ever darken my door again.”

“Come now, Radcliff, you can't blame a man for wanting what he's owed. Tell you what. Give her to me for a week to settle Caldwell's debt and you can have her after I've finished.” He leaned close and whispered. “We'll keep this between us, just you and me. No one else need know.”

Rage exploded inside Chris. The man had no principles, no morals. He was lower than an insect. There was only one way to deal with a reprobate like that. Clenching his fist, he sent it flying into Rigby's face. Looking stunned, Rigby staggered and tumbled to the ground, howling like a banshee as blood spurted from his nose.

“Chuba!” Chris roared. The servant appeared immediately. “Escort Sir Rigby into his carriage and send it on its way.”

Turning on his heel, Chris walked away. If he remained a moment longer, he would stomp Rigby into the ground and damn the consequences. To his chagrin, he found Sophia standing in the foyer.

“What did those men want?” she asked. “What did Rigby say to anger you so?”

“Come into my study, we'll talk there.” Sophia preceded him into the study; he closed the door behind them. “Sit down, Sophia. Would you like something to drink?”

Sophia shook her head and dropped into a chair. “Those men were angry because you freed your slaves, weren't they?”

Chris inclined his head. “I did what my conscience demanded. If they don't like it, that's their problem. But that's not why I wanted to talk to you. What was Rigby saying to you in the parlor when I interrupted?”

“He doesn't frighten me, Chris.”

“That's not what I asked. I could almost cut the tension with a knife. If I'm not mistaken, he had his hands on you.”

“Very well; he tried to stop me from leaving the room. He said he wrote to Rayford, telling him where to find me.”

Chris's eyes narrowed. “What else?”

Anger flashed in Sophia's green eyes. “He said he intended to have me. I disagreed with him.”

“That does it!” Chris growled. “Clearly, the man is a menace. He won't dare threaten you after we marry. Tomorrow we'll call on Lady Chester. She offered to help plan our wedding, and you're going to accept her offer. I'm sure a small affair can be arranged. Shall we say four weeks?”

Sophia gasped. “You want us to marry in four weeks?”

“Didn't I just say so?”

“Chris, you don't have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied.

“I can protect myself.”

The uncompromising set of his jaw remained firm. “That's beside the point. Everyone expects us to marry.”

Didn't the contentious woman know she had no choice in the matter? Both her fate and his had been sealed the day she set foot on his ship. Like it or not, they would wed.

Sophia shook her head. She remembered with stark clarity the day Chris had told her he had killed Desmond. He had looked at her as if he never wanted to see her again. As if he couldn't stand the sight of her. Then he had disappeared. She had suffered through the scandal, and abandonment by the man she loved, with her head held high. She wasn't a sniveling, helpless female. She had thwarted Sir Oscar Rigby once, she could do it again.

Her mind wandered back in time, to the irresistible young man Chris had been. She had wanted him from the beginning, even knowing she couldn't have him. Nothing she had said to him had been untrue. But at seventeen she had been too young to realize she was setting the scene for a tragedy.

“Why is marrying me repugnant to you?”

Repugnant? Dear God, if he only knew. “Very well, I'll marry you, Chris, but never say I didn't warn you.”

Was that relief she saw in his eyes?

“Warn me about what?”

“I'm trouble. You said it yourself.”

“I think I can handle your kind of trouble.”

Sophia stared at him, picturing his powerful body in her mind's eye, all hard planes and bronzed skin. No matter how hard she tried, she could not purge his naked image from her mind, nor could she banish the fluttering in her belly every time they were together. He would be shocked if he knew how desperately she wanted him. She would never expose her vulnerability to him, however, unless he reciprocated her feelings, which Sophia seriously doubted would ever come to pass.

Sophia dug deep in her soul for an answer to her dilemma. What were her choices? Instead of marrying Chris, she could return to England. She discarded that notion as soon as it was born. She could continue her search for employment. As if anyone would hire her, she thought wryly.

She could marry Chris and make the best of their life together.

“Stop thinking about a way out of this, Sophia. If I can tolerate a marriage between us, so can you.”

Head held high, she faced him squarely. “Very well, Chris, I'll marry you. I still say it's a devil's pact we're making, but I'm game if you are.”

Chris reached for her hands and pulled her out of the chair. “We'll always have this, Sophia.” Then he kissed her, and her doubts fled like leaves before the wind.

Her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue slipped inside, fencing with hers; his teeth nipped the tip of her tongue. Her breath faltered, nearly stopped when he clasped her face in both hands and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth.

She groaned and melted against him. Chris was right, the attraction between them was raw and immediate; perhaps it would be enough.

She prayed it would be.

Despite that soul-destroying kiss in his study, Chris did not visit Sophia's room that night. The following morning, Kateena told her that there had been a fire in the cane fields, and that Chris had left the house shortly after she retired.

Chris was eating his breakfast in the dining room when Sophia entered. He raised his head. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Sophia replied as she took her seat and waited for Chuba to pour her coffee. She ordered eggs and toasted bread, took a sip of scalding coffee and studied Chris over the cup rim. He looked tired and disheveled, as if he hadn't slept or changed his clothes.

“Kateena said there was a fire last night. I hope it wasn't serious.”

“Any fire is serious,” Chris said. “But fortunately, this one was discovered in time and little damage was done.”

“Any clues how it started?”

Chris set down his fork and looked at her, his face grim. “The fire was deliberately set.”

“What? Who—”

“I don't know, but I have my suspicions. I've arranged for guards to patrol the fields at night.”

“You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No. I just returned from the fields.”

“You should lie down.”

“I'm fine, Sophia, don't fret. I'll be ready to leave for Orchid Manor after I bathe and change. Will eleven o'clock suit? I sent word ahead of our impending visit. Wear your new riding habit.”

“Why the rush? We can go tomorrow, when you're feeling more yourself.”

“You're not going to talk me into putting this off, Sophia. If you intend to remain on the island, we'll do what is expected of us. I can't see another alternative; can you?”

Sophia sighed. There was no alternative. “I'll be ready when you are.”

Chris nodded and devoted himself to his breakfast. Sophia's food arrived, and she, too, fell silent. Her marriage to Chris was really going to happen, whether either of them wanted it or not.

Chris was waiting in the foyer when Sophia descended the stairs at precisely eleven o'clock. The dressmaker had done herself proud with Sophia's wardrobe. The riding habit had been one of the first outfits to arrive. It was made of green linen, the color complementing her eyes and the creamy gold of her fading tan. She wore a bonnet to protect her face from the summer sun, and her feet were shod in new half boots. Several pairs of slippers to match her gowns had also arrived during the past two weeks along with the boots.