Authors: Loves Wine
Scott smiled, sipping from his brandy glass. “Gentlemen, I can understand your feelings, and the United States is very interested in Jamaican export, not only bananas, but sugar, rum, cocoa, coconuts, coffee. But let’s not get carried away taking revenge on the natives. The Civil War in America and the discontent among the ex-slaves here combined to bring about Morant Bay. Keep in mind that the natives here didn’t
ask
to be brought from their homeland to Jamaica in the first place. They didn’t wish to be slaves, you know.”
The three men exchanged glances, and Neil chose his moment. “I’ve got to see you, Colonel Colter. It’s important.”
Scott frowned. He was doing what he’d been sent to Jamaica to do—soothe ruffled feelings and negotiate.
He nodded politely to the men. “Excuse me. We’ll continue this conversation later.” He followed Neil to a distance where they could not be overheard.
Neil took a deep breath and said simply, “Holly is waiting for you down by the duck pond.”
Just as Neil expected, Scott turned and headed straight from the room without a word.
From a distance, Roger Bonham stood and watched as Scott met Holly by the pond. He had seen her leave with Davis, saw Davis return without her. He’d put it all together easily enough.
The bitch. His eyes narrowed. The conniving bitch. He had given her marriage, yet she still…
Also boiling inside was the question of why Colter and Davis were in Jamaica. No matter, he told himself. His cache of gold was waiting for him. He had Barney Phillips looking after things, and the two army men weren’t going to find out any more here than they had learned in Mississippi. He was too smart for them.
He was also no cuckold.
By god and be damned, it was one thing for Colter to take his pleasure with Holly when she was single. It was another thing now. She was Roger’s wife—till death did them part.
He signaled discreetly to one of the men in his employ, one of his ever-present henchmen.
Roger wasn’t going to sully his hands by playing the role of the jealous husband. It was unnecessary. He had someone to do that for him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly stepped inside the ring of fragrant, flowering shrubs bordering the small pond. In the faint light, she found her way to a marble bench and sat down, pressing her trembling hands together in her lap.
Her heart was pounding with excitement, near hysteria. Did dreams come true sometimes, even for her? Was she actually going to see Scott?
Suddenly she stood up and started back toward the path as her brain began to command her to leave, run, go back to the party before Roger found her out.
Scott was standing in the path, tall and stalwart in the lacy patterns of moonlight that fell across his handsome face.
Holly whispered his name. The sound was the softest of anguished moans, and it melted into the gentle night wind.
At once, his muscular arms wrapped around her, folding her against his broad chest.
He didn’t speak, but held her in a deep embrace that left them both breathless. Then he drew her back into their nocturnal haven, past the bench where she had waited, on to a secluded spot beneath the thick, draping branches of a jasmine bush.
He laid her on the ground, hands gently tracing the contours of her face, that face he had never been able to forget, as though he needed to prove she was real.
They lay on their sides, facing each other, and Holly drank in the sight of him until their lips met in the sweetness of silent, desperate longing.
Holly began to unbutton his uniform coat, then boldly unfasten the starched, white shirt beneath, as well. She pushed the shirt open to dance her fingers in his thick, dark mat of hair. Then she rested her cheek against his warm chest.
Caught in a driving longing to express the maelstrom within her, she cast aside any semblance of inhibition. Boldly she caressed his manhood, then undid his trousers, taking him in her hand eagerly. Within the dizzying throes, the burning hunger, she thrilled to feel the liquid of his pulsing desire against her flesh—evidence that he wanted her intensely.
“I want you,” she whispered, “deep, deep inside me. I need you…must have you…”
Taking one more long look at her exquisite face, he removed his trousers and hooked his fingers in the waist of her undergarments, pulling them away in a single swift movement. He quickly maneuvered himself on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around his back. He moved them higher, till they were around his neck.
A hard thrust and he was inside her, and she gasped. He whispered urgently. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, beloved.”
“No, no,” she whispered, flinging her head from side to side, her nails digging into his back. “Make me your own, Scott, please.”
The passion that engulfed them stopped time altogether. A gentle nightbird called out to them. Two spirits igniting as one…two bodies entwined…two loves becoming one love, forever and eternal. Their love carried them high, higher, beyond the horizon, and they soared as one into that rainbow that only those who know true love can reach…
They lay locked in each other’s arms for a long, long time. Holly squeezed back her tears. Soon, oh, so soon, the truth would have to be faced.
Scott rolled to the side, smiling at her in the dim moonlight. “We’re both a mess, Holly. We can’t go back inside tonight.”
Her response was hardly more than a moan.
“We will do what we should have done long ago,” he offered lightly, but with unmistakable meaning. “We leave—together. My ship sails day after tomorrow. That’s enough time for you and your mother to be ready to travel.”
When she did not, could not speak, he raised himself up on one elbow to stare down at her. “Well, Holly?”
No longer could she hold back the tears, and she began to weep, pressing her face into the cool, damp grass.
Scott made no move to touch her.
With a deep sigh, he gently asked of her, “Holly, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
She drew in her breath and then pronounced the words. It was like a sword slicing into her soul. “I can’t leave with you, Scott. I’m married.”
He drew away, sat up. “Married? Holly, what the hell are you talking about?”
The black man stepped from the shadows.
Scott and Holly got to their feet and Scott made a move toward him, stopping abruptly at the sight of the revolver. He shoved Holly protectively behind him. “What’s this about? I don’t like having guns pointed at me, mister.”
“I do not like to point the gun,” the Jamaican said in a clipped British accent. “Please do not make me use it. I am Mrs. Bonham’s bodyguard, and her husband has asked that I escort her to her hotel. Do you mind?” He grinned broadly, flashing shiny white teeth.
The thought registered with Scott, a thought he didn’t accept. “Mrs…
Bonham
?”
he echoed. “Mrs. Bonham? Holly, you
married Roger
?” His flesh was turning icy cold.
The Jamaican took a step backward, gun unwavering lest the American allow his building rage to explode.
“Damn you, Holly,” Scott snarled. “What kind of woman
are
you? How—”
He threw on his uniform, then disappeared into the night.
The Jamaican watched as Holly struggled into her clothes. Half-dressed, she started after Scott, but the Jamaican grabbed her arm and twisted it hard behind her back. “Do not make me hurt you, Mrs. Bonham. I feel your husband has enough pain in store for you without my inflicting yet more.”
She twisted, writhing against the agony. “Get your hands off me,” she screamed, hoping someone would hear. “Get away!”
The man gave her arm such a jerk that a white-hot flash shot through her body, blacking out her consciousness. When she came to a few moments later, she found herself leaning against him. He released his hold.
“That is better,” he said softly. “Now you will go with me. Your husband told me to take you directly to the hotel, to your room, and keep you there until he arrives. I have a carriage waiting around the side of the house. No one will see us leave. Please walk slowly and do not cause me to hurt you further.
“I saw you, you know,” he went on, chuckling. “You should thank me. I did not wish to interrupt such beautiful lovemaking, even though I could have. Mr. Bonham should pay me more for having been so thorough in my ‘body-guarding.’” He threw back his head and laughed.
That was when Holly saw her chance.
Catching him off-guard, she whirled around to bring her knee up into his crotch, at the same time jerking the gun from his hand. As he doubled over in agony, she grasped the revolver with both her hands and brought it smashing down on the back of his head with all the strength she possessed.
He fell to the ground and lay still.
She stood over him, gasping for breath, heart pounding. Where could she go? Roger would come looking for her when she wasn’t brought to the hotel. Besides that, what about her mother? Roger still had that power over her. She could not run away as long as her mother was back at Roger’s house.
She heard someone running and she pointed the gun toward the sound.
“Holly, don’t shoot!”
Neil. She dropped the weapon and threw herself into his arms.
He glanced down at the Jamaican, retrieved the revolver, then forced her to meet his gaze. “Listen to me,” he said harshly. “I just ran into Scott. He didn’t tell me what happened, but I’ve never seen him so furious. Let’s get out of here. You can explain everything later.”
“No,” she told him. “You must listen
now,
Neil. That man was hired by Roger to—”
He gave her arm a tug. “Tell me later.”
“No!” she said again, furiously. “Neil, I can’t just run away. My mother is at Roger’s house, near Ocho Rios.”
She explained, and Neil rubbed his forehead.
“How far to Ocho Rios?” he asked.
Lips quivering, she said, “I don’t even know the way. I’m sorry. With all those curving mountain roads, and the brush and trees, the whole island looks like one big forest to me, Neil.”
He stared down at the Jamaican, whose eyelids were fluttering slightly. “Well, that leaves us one choice. He’ll have to lead us.”
“And what then?”
He gave her a smile. “Why, darlin’, then we go to Mississippi, what else?”
A lavender mist hovered over the eastern sky as Holly and Neil approached the Bonham mansion. A ring of gold clinging to the last wisps of night promised a clear day, and the wind that blew across their tired, dirt-streaked faces was warm and gentle.
The native, who had grudgingly told them his name was Bon, rode just ahead of them on one of the three horses Neil had managed to get for them. As the house came into view, Bon began to plead, “Let me go now. Mr. Bonham, he will kill me when he finds out I brought you here.”
“Bon, you just keep on riding,” Neil said. “You don’t have to tell him anything. By the time he figures out what happened, we’ll all be gone. Now shut up and keep riding.”
“We are here,” Bon persisted, a worried crease on his forehead. “You can let me go now. Please.”
Neil shook his head. “You might decide to be a hero to save your own hide.”
During the long ride, Holly had told Neil everything, and he had listened quietly, nodding now and then, hiding his revulsion. He knew she didn’t need pity, she needed help. He assured her that, once Scott calmed down, she could tell him everything and he would understand. “Believe me,” he told her, “there are some things
he’ll
need to tell
you
about, too.”
She pressed for an explanation, but he declined. It wasn’t his place to tell her.
Lilda spotted them from an upstairs window, and by the time they reached the grassy slope of the lawn, she was running toward them, smiling and waving her arms. Holly dismounted quickly to embrace her, asking about her mother. Then she explained what her plans were, knowing Lilda was to be trusted.
The girl cried, “But I will go with you as far as Kingston. If I stay, he will beat the truth from me.”
“Yes, you come with us,” Holly told her. “Now please, start packing our things. Quickly. Not much, just enough to get by.” Lilda ran toward
the house.
“Hurry,” Neil called out as Holly started after her. “We can’t waste a second, Holly!”
Outside her mother’s door, Holly prayed for the right words.
Claudia was sitting at her usual place by the window. When Holly entered, she glanced up without undue surprise. “Darling,” Claudia said with a smile, “you look so tired. You aren’t ill, are you?”
Holly crossed the room and knelt before her, placing her head on her knees, reveling, as always, in the rush of warmth and love she felt at her mother’s touch. Could she just break it to her? How could she explain in a way that wouldn’t alarm her?
She took a deep breath, “Mother—”
“We’re leaving,” Claudia said quietly. “I’ve known it would be soon. I’m ready.”
Holly jerked her head up, staring at her. “What…what are you talking about?” she stammered.
Claudia smiled broadly. “You think a mother doesn’t know what’s in her daughter’s heart? You think I have not sensed how unhappy you were? How cruelly Roger treated you? Oh, Holly, Holly”—she shook her head from side to side—“there are so many things I know about you, and one of them is how much you love me. I will do my best not to be a burden to you. I wish I could have prevented all of this, but what could I have done?”