A Thoroughly Compromised Lady (22 page)

Jack kept his gaze riveted on Dulci, willing her with the quiet message of his eyes to save herself, to leave him if the opportunity came. Ortiz made to pull her back
into the crowd and she resisted for a moment, shouting loudly over the murmurs of villagers.

‘I am fine. Ortiz claims you're stealing land!' It was all she could manage before Ortiz clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the crowd, stoking Jack's anger at Ortiz's rough handling of her and his own impotence to stop it. The
cacique
gestured for Ortiz and the translator to come forwards. Somewhere to Jack's left, he was aware of Dulci sitting on the ground with the rest of the tribe. Apparently the trial had begun. Jack fought the rising bout of nausea in his stomach and focused his attentions on what passed for Arawak justice. If they meant to portray him as an intruding Englishman, they might be surprised.

The translator, one of Ortiz's men, explained the charges to him in English. ‘You've been accused of violating the tribal boundaries of these lands with the intent of claiming them for your own tribe. This is theft, the greatest crime someone can commit against the tribe. If you are found guilty of these charges, you shall be impaled on a stick until death.' A gruesome gesture followed.

In the crowd, Dulci bit back a strangled gasp, but Jack stood stalwart, unfazed by this turn of events. He'd not expected Ortiz to waste his time on a misdemeanour. He'd also not risk a translator being too honest. Who was there to stop the man from saying whatever suited Ortiz's cause? It was time for Jack to take matters into his own hands.

‘Does the
cacique
speak Spanish?' Jack asked.

‘Why, yes, of course—' the translator began.

Jack interrupted, cutting the translator off entirely.
He fixed his gaze on the
cacique
and stepped forwards, making it clear he'd deal with the
cacique
directly.

‘Who accuses me?' Jack said, his Spanish confident and fluent; he did not grope for words.

‘Señor Ortiz,' the
cacique
answered, eyeing Jack warily.

Jack shook his head. ‘I am here only to make a map, a drawing, for my
cacique
who lives far across the waters.'

The
cacique
looked puzzled. ‘Why would your chief want a map of a land that isn't his?'

‘Because it is beautiful and my
cacique
values beautiful things,' Jack replied with amazing calm. He could feel Dulci's eyes on him, waiting, watching, counting on him, desperate to know what was being said in a language she didn't under stand. Dulci hated being left out.

The
cacique
waved his arm in an expansive gesture to en com pass all the land in sight. ‘I fear your chieftain may covet such a beautiful land and take it for his own.'

Someone yelled something from the people gathered about the circle, breaking Jack's rapport with the chieftain. Others picked up the cry. Noise broke out. The chief nodded and raised a hand to silence the disturbance. Jack hazarded a glance about the circle of on lookers, desperate for a sign. He needed to under stand what was happening. Surely his verdict had not been determined already?

When the
cacique
turned his attention back to Jack, his voice was cold and sceptical. ‘My people say you are going to steal this land. They don't trust your answers.
There have been whites here before. They always bring change.'

Jack tamped down a small surge of panic. The tribe could not go down this road. The
cacique
had to believe him! With an outward calm he did not feel, Jack nodded his head towards Ortiz. ‘Tell your people, the Spaniard among you sows dissent. If there's anyone among us who means to steal this land, it is he.' Jack made an awkward gesture with his bound hands towards Ortiz to be sure the chieftain might guess at his message.

The chief's eyes darted to Ortiz. ‘What kind of mischief?'

‘He wishes to claim this land for his country. He believes there's gold in the river basin further up. If he claims this land for his tribe, they will seek to enslave your people.'

The chief rubbed thoughtfully at his chin and looked consideringly between Jack and a livid Ortiz. ‘What proof do you have?' he asked and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He'd succeeded in sowing doubt, a good sign. But providing proof was another thing. He had none, not concrete proof anyway.

Jack shook his head. ‘No more than he has against me. You are willing to accept his word. I ask you also consider mine.'

Jack watched the
cacique
care fully. The chief
did
look un certain, split ting his gaze between Jack and Ortiz, who had moved to protest, but found himself re strained. ‘Wait, you must hear me out, it's a lie!' Ortiz struggled. But it was too late. Jack's damage was done and just in time. His stomach wouldn't last much longer. When it went, his legs would go as well.

The chief gathered his
nitayanos
about him and rose,
all in decision gone now, his decision made. ‘We will deliberate. Take them to the
caneyes
and keep them under guard. We will decide at sunrise.'

There was utter confusion. Ortiz and his men decided to struggle, fighting broke out, but Ortiz's group was un pre pared for sudden action. In the mêlée, Dulci slipped unnoticed to Jack's side as his guards led him back to the hut. The guards looked un certain, but Dulci spoke force fully in broken Arawak as she gestured. ‘I stay with him. I am his woman.'

They shrugged and said nothing. But their shrugs and easy capitulation were worrisome, Jack thought. Were they thinking what did it matter if the golden-hair had his woman with him for one last night? He would die in the morning and perhaps she too.

Inside the dark hut, Jack fell on to one of the woven pallets, a groan escaping his lips. ‘Water, Dulci. I need water. There's some in the gourd in the corner.'

Dulci hurried as best she could in the dark. He could hear her groping. She brought the gourd and the dipper to Jack's lips, splashing water on his chest in her haste. ‘Are you very sick, Jack?'

‘Whatever the dart was dipped in has unsettled my stomach and it wearies me. It will wear off eventually. The water helps. I didn't think I'd be able to stand there much longer.'

Dulci felt for his hand. ‘Everything will be fine, just rest, Jack.' Her touch was heaven. It felt good to feel her, to hear her voice. But he could not give in to the temptation of her presence.

‘To be brutally honest, things won't be fine,' Jack corrected. ‘In the morning, they'll probably kill both Ortiz and I and you'll become the
cacique
's next wife.
If I am lucky, perhaps I'll get to face Ortiz in combat instead.'

Dulci knew, of course; she'd heard the charges and the consequences read to him in English. But her grip on his hand tightened at the brutal reminder articulated so plainly, so baldly. ‘Well, then I think we need a plan.' She was doing her level best to shrug off her fear. ‘If we stay here, we're done for.' She stood up and started pacing. ‘The first part of any plan is to assess our re sources.'

‘That won't take very long,' Jack said drily from the pallet. If he closed his eyes he could ease the discomfort.

‘We have my gun and we have your navigation skills. I think that's all we need.' Dulci's bravado was hard won. She must know how desperate her plan was. She had one shot in that little gun.

‘What do you think Robert is doing?' she asked thoughtfully. ‘Is there any help from his corner?'

‘He will have moored the boats at the river where he last saw us. That's the plan if anyone goes missing.'

‘Perfect. Then all we have to do is meet him at the river,' Dulci said brightly. ‘And the river is which direction, Jack?'

‘It's south of here. I was un conscious—how long did it take to get here? An hour? More than that?'

‘A little over an hour, I think.'

‘Then we're four or five miles from the river,' Jack said resolutely. ‘But, Dulci, even if we found enough stars to navigate by, we still have to get out of the hut and the village. There's a reason they build these
caneyes
the way they do. The cane walls are sturdy.'

‘Strong enough to with stand a hurricane,' Dulci
recited absently from one of her readings. ‘Yes, I know. We aren't going to be able to tear the back wall apart and go out that way.'

‘What do you propose?'

Dulci knelt down by the pallet. He could smell the pleasant scent of her, still lingering from their bath under a waterfall a day ago. ‘I propose we walk out of here an hour before sunrise.'

‘Walk out?'

‘Well, my plan isn't as simple as yours usually are. I will need you to quietly over power the guard while I dispatch the other one to fetch water or something. Then, we'll walk out when the village is quiet and no one is looking. We'll just step behind this hut and fade into the perimeter of the village and into the forest.'

She peered at Jack in the dark. ‘Are you well enough to attempt it? Perhaps if we wait until dawn, you will regain your strength. A few more hours might cleanse your system.'

Jack laughed softly at her suppositions. ‘I'll be fine, Dulci.' He'd have to be. They didn't have a choice.

‘Come, let me hold you, Dulci, I'm not so sick that I can't enjoy the feel of you.' And, he hoped, offer her the comfort of his body. She'd been courageous today, but that didn't mean she hadn't also been scared to death. He would give her what comfort he could, even if it was simply the length of his body pressed against hers, a reminder that she'd not been abandoned to an unknown fate. He wrapped his arm about her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against his chest as she settled into him.

There was peace in that rhythm for him too. He would make things right for her and then he'd take himself as
far from her as possible so that she'd be safe. There was no need to speak. It was enough to feel the rise and fall of her head against his chest, but Jack wanted to talk. There were words that needed saying in case the worst happened.

‘I love you, Dulci,' he began hesitantly, holding her tight. He had so much he wanted to say it was hard to know where to start. His mind was full to bursting with all he needed to tell her. He hoped he had the strength, the voice to convey it all.

‘Shh, Jack, save your strength. You shouldn't talk too much now.' Dulci shifted in his arms, turning to face him. ‘We can talk on the boat when you're better.'

Jack shook his head in the darkness. ‘I know you're being brave, Dulci, and I love you for it. But we have to also be realists. If I die tomorrow there are things I want you to know so that you have no doubts.'

To her credit, Dulci did not protest. ‘Then tell me, Jack,' she whispered.

‘You are my heart, Dulci. I've been a foolish man. I've always thought of myself as un conventional, that I wasn't a traditionalist like Gladstone. It's something of an irony to come to the potential end of my life and realise at the last that I was not as unconventional as I thought when it came to you. I wanted to shelter you, I still do. But my reasons are different now. In the be ginning, I was afraid of what you might think of me if you saw the sum of my life, what I did for the king, how I lived. This is hardly the life the viscounts you know in London live. But now it's different. I want to shelter you because I can't bear to lose you.'

‘You won't lose me, Jack,' Dulci whispered.

‘Don't make empty promises, Dulci. We both know
I am going to lose you, only just for different reasons than before.'

‘You're not going to die,' she insisted fervently.

‘Maybe, maybe not.' Jack shrugged. ‘That's not the loss I'm talking about. You came on this journey to prove to me you could be my partner. You've done that. Every day, I could see your strength and your commitment. But, Dulci, I can't let you do it. I love you too much to lose you, to know that I single handedly put you in danger.' He felt as if he were babbling. Perhaps he had a touch of fever after all.

Dulci tensed. He was probably lucky he couldn't see the fury sparking her eyes. ‘So even by winning, I lose?' she said slowly.

A cool drop of moisture seeped through the linen of his shirt where Dulci's head lay. ‘Dulci?' Jack reached a hand to her cheek. ‘I didn't mean to make you cry.'

 

Stupid man. She'd kill him for this when they got back to the boats. Whoever thought love solved everything? In this case, love had made it worse. She'd hoped love would ease the way towards Jack's acceptance of her as a partner in life. But it seemed that love, once realised, had now become an obstacle. She could weep at the irony of it. Or, she could seize what moments she had. Dulci preferred the latter. If she could not have him for ever, she would have him for the night.

‘Give me your hand, Jack.' Dulci sat up and reached for a thong that held back her hair.

‘What are you doing?' Jack strained to see in the dark, struggling a little as she tied the cord around his wrist and her own.

‘We're hand fasting. We will have this marriage if
no other,' Dulci said, a tell-tale tremble in her voice. ‘I would have you as a husband who accepts me as a partner entirely for one night at least. I never thought love would drive us apart. I rather thought it would be the making of us, the one realisation that would save us.'

Dulci lay back down beside him, their hands lightly bound by the thong. ‘We'll use the ancient words.'

She drew a quiet breath. ‘I take you, Jack, to be the partner of my soul and the husband of my heart as long as we both shall live.'

Jack repeated them, his own voice shaky and hoarse and then it was done: short in text but long on meaning. They lay in silence, savouring the sanctity of the moment, feeling the import of their words. ‘As long as we both shall live sounds ominous under these circumstances,' Jack said thoughtfully.