Captive (47 page)

She grated down hard on her teeth, thinking of James’s desertion, but managed to smile pleasantly for Tara.

“A surprise?”

“A party.”

“Oh, Tara! I don’t think I should go to a party. My condition isn’t that evident, but I know that some of our town’s good matrons are looking down their long noses at me quite frequently. And there’s always the chance that someone will decide to send a soldier or scout into the interior of the territory just to find Michael Warren and see to it that he does ride to St. Augustine.”

“Jarrett’s friends will see to it that we’re advised when Warren is returning,” Tara reassured her.

“A party will still be uncomfortable. I’m telling you, the society matrons do disapprove of me.”

Tara wrinkled her nose. “They don’t dare—even if they are jealous old biddies. No matter what he does, Jarrett is Florida society.”

“Tara, I don’t think—”

“I’ve heard that James is going to be there.”

“What?
” Teela demanded.

“I thought that might draw your interest,” Tara said dryly. “John has sent a message that he will be available that evening, and he will be more than happy to escort you. Teela, I thought you’d be anxious!”

“Umm. I am anxious,” Teela assured her. “Very!” Inside, she was already simmering. She was anxious. She definitely had a few things to say to James.

The soiree was held at the home of Mrs. Virginia Tenney, widow of retired army Brigadier General Wilfred Tenney. James and Wildcat came along with several of the commanders of the fort. Wildcat was in full array with his bright leggings, shawl over one shoulder, and
blue calico shirt. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was remarkably agile.

The military commanders needn’t have feared trouble from their guests of honor. The last thing James wanted to do was offer the citizenry of St. Augustine any chance to feel that—in civilized society or not—Seminoles were not worth
educating.
And Wildcat was simply too curious, too busy taking it all in.

The home was beautiful, a typical southern manse with a huge breezeway and all doors thrown open. Violinists, harpists, and pianists had been hired. At first Wildcat stayed close to James, wanting the security of a friend who spoke both languages well. But he was soon quite the center of attention. As James found himself greeting more old acquaintances—a few he would term friends—among the company, he was edged away from Wildcat. He was surprised to see that with his current reputation, he drew his fair share of attention, and much of that from families he had known through Jarrett. Apparently, he thought wryly, there remained a mystique about a man who ran in the forest. And oddly enough, he was urged to the dance floor with many a sweet young belle by her own father.

The food was delicious. He sampled delicate pastries, spiced vegetables, potato melees, and more. He found himself beside Wildcat again, who was complimenting a plump matron on her wonderful corn muffins. A young half-breed interpreter in an army uniform was repeating Wildcat’s words. The matron blushed with pleasure. Wildcat said, “You must tell her husband that he has taken a very good wife even if she is built like a house.”

The interpreter flushed. James stepped into the breech, managing to remember the man’s name. “Mr. Hubley, my friend has said that your wife’s cooking is excellent, that you have made a wonderful choice of a wife to love over the decades.”

“Oh, I am so glad that the poor wild man is enjoying himself! He must have been starved!” the matron beamed.

With all the charm he had ever learned in the best drawing rooms, James kissed the woman’s hand, nodded in acknowledgment to her husband, and quickly swept Wildcat away.

“You cannot tell these men that their wives are fat,” James told him.

“It wasn’t an insult!” Wildcat said. “I said that she cooked so well it did not matter that she was fat, she was a good wife.”

They were stopped next by Captain Morrison, who was leading a young aide-de-camp and his new, buxom bride about the room. The fellow was new, a raw recruit to Florida, James thought.

“Ah, Mr. McKenzie, Mr. Wildcat,” Morrison said lamely. “May I present Lieutenant Anderson and his bride.”

James shook hands. “A pleasure,” he murmured. He had been right. People had come to gape at them. Mr. Anderson’s well-endowed beauty was quite plainly assessing them both.

“Why, the pleasure is mine!” the lady said, brown eyes very large, words drawled out as thick as molasses. “My, but the forest does keep these savages fit, now, isn’t that true, sugar?” she said to her husband.

“What did she say?” Wildcat asked him.

The interpreter was standing behind them. Apparently, despite his army uniform, he was taking offense at the words of the white woman. He repeated her words to Wildcat.

Wildcat smiled boldly, glancing at the woman with his dark eyes in a way that made her blush. “Oh, my …”

“Tell Mr. Anderson—and do tell him … never mind!” Wildcat said in Muskogee, deciding to speak in his own broken English. “Pretty now,” he commented. He shook his head. “But once she has babies, she will be
all
fat!”

“Excuse us, will you?” James said quickly, leading Wildcat away once again. “Damn you, I didn’t want to come. You talked me into it—”

“I’ll stop,” Wildcat said with quiet dignity. “But my words were true.”

It didn’t matter to James anymore. Dancers had moved across the polished hardwood floor. He saw Teela. She was on Harrison’s arm. Her hair was very elegantly swept up with a few tender trails of red escaping to dust her shoulders. She was wearing a rich green velvet gown, and it enhanced the beauty of her vibrant coloring, eyes and hair, and the ivory quality of her flesh. Her breasts strained against the scooped bodice of her evening dress, a fashion reminiscent of the recent Empire mode. It hid the rounding of her figure, so he wondered if anyone who did not know her slimness so well would note even now how her curves had changed.

“I tell you—” Wildcat was saying, but he broke off. “Ah, there she is! Warren’s daughter.”

“Yes,” James said, starting to walk across the floor.

Wildcat stopped him. “We are to be civilized savages, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Bring me. Introduce me to her.”

He had no choice but to allow Wildcat to follow him. John Harrington was the first to see him coming. He beamed with a broad smile, walking forward to greet James with a massive bear hug, then setting him arm’s length away. “James, my good fellow, my, but it is good to see you! You seem in fine health, all bones, but that happens in this place, eh? I attempted to see you, you know, but I didn’t quite have the rank to deal with the cantankerous old fellow on duty. Jarrett has also informed me that there are matters now you wish to deal with yourself. But be assured, if there is anything at all that I can do—”

“You’re doing it,” James said, wishing he could bite back the coldness in his tone. Harrison honestly looked incredibly glad to see him. “You’re looking after Warren’s daughter.”

“Yes!” Harrington said. “We go everywhere together. Warren will not be able to offer us any trouble, though
he had much of it planned for you, my friend! A hangman’s noose at that!”

“Indeed.”

“Wildcat!” John said, smiling at the warrior who stood behind James. John switched into a halting Muskogee. “You are most elegant, sir! Are you enjoying yourself here?”

“As much as a prisoner may,” Wildcat assured John.

John kept smiling, clearly delighted. “Wildcat, I face you at a party! We are neither negotiators or combatants. I must say, I enjoy this! Ah …” he said, noticing that James was looking behind him.

That he was staring at Teela.

“Please, sir, if you will, have a dance with my fiancée.”

His fiancée. Harrington’s fiancee. Warren’s choice for his daughter. Teela. Was it mockery, teasing, or truth? He wanted to shout at Harrington, ask if he was blind or a fool or both, or worse?

“James?”

“Yes. Oh, indeed, I would very much enjoy a dance,” he said, stepping forward. She was exchanging words with a silver-haired colonel. James nodded to the man in acknowledgment, then caught Teela’s hand.

Her eyes fell on his, burning with a strange heat. A wild, wicked fury. He tugged her hand; she tugged back. He was stronger.

Into his arms.

And into the heat of the simmering flame that had burned so searingly into his heart since he had seen her last.

H
e brought her spinning out onto the floor.

“Bastard!” she hissed to him.

His brows arced. He lowered his lips to her ear. “Bitch.”

“Ill-mannered—” she began, but he propelled her into the waltz rather than allow her to complete the thought. He was an accomplished dancer, and he drew the attention of many—despite, or because of the fact that Teela was determinedly struggling against him with every sweeping step they took. At last she ceased to struggle. She followed his lead, moved with the music, to his touch, yet avoiding his touch as much as she might, studying his face with wary anger, her lips pursed, face taut with outrage.

“Let the hell go of me, McKenzie. Unless you want a scene on the dance floor.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Ah, sir, but you are perceptive for a savage!”

“Ah, lady, what you dish out, I promise to return. And now, where to begin? How very lovely to see you, Miss Warren.”

“What a liar you are!”

“But I’m not lying. Not really.”

“Then you’re a hypocrite and an ass—”

“Careful, my love—”

“And you are a rude, rotten savage.”

“Your opinion has become quite clear. Yet I would say you were the hypocrite. You’ve returned to civilization
with the absolute greatest of ease. You are
la belle femme
indeed, rich in lace and satin. Forgetting—”

“Forgetting nothing! Especially not a man who would just as soon strangle me as look at me! When he is the one with the most atrocious behavior—”

“You’ve not looked at me and wondered what games I play with others—”

“I need wonder nothing! Your reputation has preceded you in all things, McKenzie.”

“As has yours, Miss Warren. But how remiss I am. You look lovely in green.”

“Why are you making it sound as if I chose the color for sheer decadence?”

“The gown is positively decadent.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Cut nearly to your navel.”

“If you’re going to spend the evening insulting me—”

“My only purpose in coming here was to see you,” he told her.

“Ah! Am I to swoon at the chance to talk with you now? How amazing when you have not wanted to see me before!”

“Oh, I’ve wanted to see you. Out of earshot from others!” He swung her around the floor with such speed and purpose that he managed to bring them out upon the rear porch. There he went still, his fingers biting cruelly into her shoulders, eyes a blue fire as they stared into hers.

“Whose child is it?”

“What?”

“You heard me quite clearly. I said, whose child—”

She inhaled on a strangled gasp. “You bastard!”

“I said—”

She slapped him. Very hard, and with incredible speed. Then she spun around, head high. She didn’t go back into the house, but away down the back lawn.

“Teela, damn you—” he began.

“Go to hell. Go back to prison. You’re right, you are
a savage, and I want no part of you in my life!” she cried, spinning to face him once again, her fists in knots.

He started to run after her. “Stop, damn you!” he hissed.

“Leave me be!” she cried out. Loudly.

All of a sudden, from inside the house, he was aware of a commotion.

“He’s escaping! The Indian is escaping!”

Wildcat, he thought first. Oh, God, Wildcat was choosing now to make the escape he planned.

But then he realized that
he
was the Indian who was escaping. Soldiers were running from the house, and they were after him.

Teela was still stalking away down the lawn.

He couldn’t let her go, let the words between them stop, not now.

“Damn you, Teela, come back here!” he ground out. In seconds he could catch her. He bolted after her, and was startled when someone seized him. He didn’t know the fellow, had never seen him before in his life. “Soldier, let me go!” he warned.

The man dug in. “I’ve got him, I’ve got him!”

James slipped free and cracked the young man in the jaw. But there were another two soldiers who fell on him, and when he struggled free from them, there was a foursome to throw their weight against him.

Shots were suddenly fired into the air. James went still along with the soldiers. Captain Morrison walked in among them, shaking his head. “James McKenzie, what in God’s name has gotten into you? I thought we’d have trouble with Wildcat, but that pure-bred boy is in there seducing half the ladies while you’re out here in the middle of a brawl!”

“I intended no fight, Captain. These men waylaid me when I needed to move.”

“Mr. McKenzie, you can’t move off these grounds tonight! You’re a military prisoner. Sir, I’m sorry, but I must escort you back to the fortress now.” There was no fighting the situation, unless he wanted
to kill one of the boys here who were really not at fault at all and then be shot down in turn. He nodded his head. “Captain, I am your prisoner. As you direct.”

But he seethed. Anger simmered inside him all the way back to the fort. She had slapped him and turned away from him, run when he could not run after her. Instead he’d been dragged to the ground, a prisoner indeed.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. And, he determined, he would never talk to her again when other men might have the power to interrupt what he had to say, and the answers he would demand in return.

When Wildcat found him later that night, James had but on thing to say to him. “When your escape is planned, let me know.”

“You’ll come with us?”

He had to see her again. On his terms.
Had to.
But there was still the matter of Osceola and the others. If nothing else, James knew that he was the best interpreter of what was going on within the walls of their prison.