Savannah Heat (39 page)

“This man has invaded my country. Brought arms to the worthless rebels who fight us.”

“You have rendered him helpless. Surely his troops have all been captured—he is no further threat.”

“The guns he has brought have not been found. That in itself is enough to earn him the firing squad. I have been generous in my treatment of you foreigners.”

Generous!
Torturing a man, beating him senseless was generous? She forced herself not to say the words. “In a way I suppose you’re right. You could have killed him and the men you hold in your prison. Since this man is my friend, I thank you for that.”

“The girl has no part in this,” Morgan said, his parched voice raspy. “Surely as a man of honor you will let her go.”

Beneath his waxed mustache, the general’s mouth curved upward. “I think not.”

Silver watched his eyes, glittering with satisfaction, the hungry look that swept down her body. She glanced to Morgan, saw his pain, his battered and beaten condition—and made her decision.

“The man is no use to you, General. But he is my
friend, and his life holds great value to me. I would bargain with you for his release.”

Arching a sleek black brow, the general moved to face her more squarely. “What is it you bargain with, Dama de Luz?”

Silver came closer, her hips swaying seductively, a soft smile curving her lips. “The only thing of value I have left, General Hernandez—my body.”

“Silver, no!” Morgan surged to his feet and started toward her. Three
soldados
captured his arms and dragged him back to his chair.

“Silence,
Anglo!
” one warned harshly.

Silver cast him a look that pleaded the same.

The general chuckled softly. “I already own your body, senorita. I shall take you this night, whether you wish it or not.”

Morgan strained against the men who held him. “She’s done nothing. You’ve got to let her go!”

“Silence him,” Hernandez commanded.

Silver watched helplessly as Morgan’s arms were wrenched cruelly behind his back and he sagged against the pain. Ignoring the anguish she saw in his eyes, she continued to the general’s side and slid her arms around his neck.

“You can take me by force,” she said softly, “but I assure you, General, that which you can take cannot begin to match that which I can give.” With a warm look of seduction, she leaned down and kissed him.

Hernández slid his arms around her, pulled her down on his lap, and kissed her back, pressing her body against his until she felt his arousal stir. Morgan fought and cursed until the men bound and gagged him into silence.

When Hernández finally released her, Silver ran a finger along his cheek and smiled in silent invitation.
“Do this for me, and you will not be sorry, I promise you.”

The general smiled in return, but his mouth looked more wolfish than pleasant. “Take the major to the edge of the woods and release him.”

“You must let someone go with him,” Silver insisted, sliding off his lap. “He’s too weak to survive on his own.”

“No.”

“His brother is here. Let him go.”

“No! I will release this one. That is all. Do not tempt your good fortune, senorita.”

“I must see him freed,” Silver said. “I must know for certain he is safe. Do that, General Hernandez, and you will have a fiery temptress in your bed this eve.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, the general nodded and ordered Morgan removed from the room. Though he kicked and thrashed and cursed them from behind his gag, the soldiers finally managed to haul him out.

“They will take him to the edge of the encampment and release him. You can watch from the upstairs balcony. I will join you there.”

Silver nodded and hurried toward the stairway she had seen in the foyer. She closed the door behind her.

Hernández turned to the
soldado
on his left. “Have him watched from a distance. As soon as the woman goes back inside, you will capture him and return him to the prison. If that becomes a problem—shoot him.”

With an aching heart, Silver watched Morgan loaded aboard a
carreta
, a small two-wheeled cart, and driven away. The lumbering brown and white
oxen moved slowly, though the man at the reins cracked a long, thin whip above the animals’ heads. The cart rumbled up the road until she could barely see it. Then the oxen stopped, and the soldiers pulled Morgan from the back.

When one of the men drew his saber, Silver thought her heart might stop. But he only sliced through Morgan’s bonds, and his arms swung free. The cart turned clumsily around in the road and along with the soldiers started back to the hacienda. Morgan stood in the lane for only an instant, then disappeared into the dense cover of his surroundings.

Silver fought the sting of tears.
Dear God, please help him
. If she knew for certain he was safe, she would somehow survive the loathsome task she had set for herself.

“Shall we go, senorita?” The general took her arm to lead her inside.

Silver pulled away. “Just a little longer. Then I’ll go in.”

The general looked disgruntled. “You need not fear. Your evening’s performance will be just that. I have business to attend until later.”

“I assure you, General, that is the least of my concerns.” Inwardly she lauded her performance. God, how she loathed the very thought of the man’s too-eager touch.

Silver pulled her gaze from the general’s hungry smile and fixed her eyes on the rutted, overgrown road. Hearing no shots or any other signs of disturbance, she felt a little better. Still, she couldn’t trust these men, and every passing second meant a greater chance for Morgan’s escape.

God be with you, my love
, she prayed, hoping against hope that he would succeed.

* * *

Morgan slipped silently through the tangle of leaves and vines. He could hear footsteps behind him—soldiers. They had no intention of letting him go.

Crazy little fool
. Silver actually believed they would release him. Stupid, idiotic, wonderful little fool.

Morgan crouched low in a ravine. The fury that still pumped through his veins had given him a shot of strength. His vision had cleared, and though his ribs ached like holy bejesus, he was sure now that none of them were broken. Water and food would revive him faster than anything—if he could just elude the men who followed.

A branch snapped not more than ten feet away. Bloody hell! They were closer than he thought. Morgan glanced around and spotted a rotting fallen log. He carefully dug away some of the dead leaves and bark, crawled into the dark, bug-filled interior, then layered dirt and leaves over the part of him left exposed. Waiting for the sound of their dreaded footfalls or the pressure of a cold steel muzzle against his ribs made his heart thunder, and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead.

“
¿Donde está
?” came harshly from a man standing only inches from his shoulder. Where is he?

“
Yo no sé. No está aqui.
” I don’t know. He isn’t here.

“
¡Buscale!
” Find him!

Morgan held his breath, listening as the men moved off through the forest-jungle. They were spreading out, searching farther and wider. They would expect him to run—and so he would not. Morgan’s head throbbed, his ribs ached, he was hungry and thirsty—but for the time being he was free.
Come hell or high water, he intended to stay that way.

Silver had sacrificed herself for him. He wasn’t about to let her down.

Resigned to his discomfort, Morgan ignored the crawling, biting creatures that moved across his flesh, the moist heat that dampened his clothes. Instead he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. He’d been awake most of the night; sleep would help him garner his strength. When he felt it was safe, he would leave.

Though it seemed only minutes, Morgan stirred. Something long and slithering moved across his arm, paused, then silently slipped away. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. Through the cracks in the log, he noticed the sun had changed position; he’d had at least three hours of rest. He felt stiff and sore, but his head was clearer, and his dizziness had fled.

He listened for the sound of men but heard only the screech of birds and the chatter of monkeys. Shoving the leaves aside, he climbed from the log on unsteady legs. Still, he felt stronger. He would find a weapon, food, and water. Then he’d head in the direction he believed he might find the Texas forces. In a way he hoped they weren’t there. If Buckland had divulged the rendezvous point, as the general had implied, the troops would be easy prey for Hernandez’s men.

In fact, even now they might be under siege. He didn’t think so. There were too many Centralist troops still in camp.

Morgan pressed on, moving through the ravines and gulleys, the dense foliage, and thorny scrub brush. His hands were cut and bleeding by the time he came into a clearing hours later and crept beneath
a granite outcrop. He leaned against the huge gray stone to take a moment’s rest.

“At last,
mon ami
, you move with the steps of a man not those of an injured panther.” Jacques’s huge arms enveloped him, and Morgan clung to his friend in relief.

“Thank God,” he whispered, finally breaking away.

“I had given you up for dead.”

“How did you find me?”

“I and some others ’ave been watching the prison. We caught glimpses of a few of our men, so we knew your position ’ad been taken, but no one saw you or the colonel until today.”

“They’ve been holding us in the barn—for
interrogation
. Apparently Buckland has given them the location of the rendezvous point. You did get through with the guns?”

“
Oui
. And we anticipated there might be problems, so we moved to a new position. It is well ’idden and not far from ’ere.” His eyes ran over Morgan’s battered and bloodied face. “We saw them take you from the camp. We watched your escape, but we could not find you. I ’oped you would move toward the rendezvous point.”

“There are men following me. They’re liable to spot the others.”

“I sent them back. If I could not find you, I did not think they could.”

Morgan nodded, glad to have Jacques for a friend. “Teresa?” he asked.

“She is safe in camp. We should get started. I will carry you if you cannot make it.”

“I’ll make it,” Morgan said, “but I could use a little water.”

“Of course.” Jacques handed Morgan his canteen. “Drink slowly.”

Morgan nodded and tipped up the flask, letting the reviving liquid trickle down his throat. Jacques handed him a piece of beef jerky when he finished. It tasted like prime roast beef. He ate while they moved cautiously through the scrub brush. As Jacques had promised, it took only a few hours to reach camp. Since they’d moved closer to the prison, Morgan figured plans had been made to go ahead with the attack.

“When do you plan to move?” he asked, a lanky, rawboned lieutenant named Archy Spray, the only officer left to the original Texas forces who had not been captured.

“Tomorrow, unless you’ve learned something that could change things.” Along with Jacques and Ham, they crouched around a makeshift map drawn into the dirt.

“I’m afraid I learned nothing of the prison,” Morgan said. “I wasn’t even able to verify where it was.”

“Fortunately we know a great deal about it,” Ham put in. “Several Federalist sympathizers have joined our forces. One of them, a Mexican man named Paco, worked the henequen farm. He knows the place like the back of his hand.”

“Good.”

“Better than good,” Ham said. “There’s a tunnel. Paco discovered it years ago near the base of the central pyramid.”

“Pyramid?” Morgan repeated.

Ham grinned. “Apparently the men are being kept in the ruins of a Mayan city. It’s damned logical really. The walls are several feet thick, and none of the rooms have windows. It’s pretty overgrown, I gather.”

“Like everything else around here,” Morgan said diyly.

“Yes, but that should make things easier,” Archy said, drawing approach lines on the map with the end of a broken twig.

“You figure to go in through the tunnels?” Morgan asked.

“Yes,” Ham answered. “Attack from inside instead of out.”

Morgan pondered Ham’s words as the four men came to their feet. “Are your men ready?” Morgan asked Spray, referring to the original Texas forces that so far had escaped capture.

“More than ready, sir. Eager would be closer.”

“Then what do you say to a small change of plans?”

“Such as?” Spray asked.

“Such as going in tonight.”

“We’d have to fight this damnable terrain in the dark,” Ham pointed out.

“You wish to go back there so soon?” Jacques asked, a frown of concern on his face. “You need to rest and recover.”

Morgan’s face turned grim. “They’ve got Silver.” He hadn’t been able to tell them, couldn’t bear to say the words until he’d come up with a plan.

“
Sacrebleu.
” Jacques ran a hand over his face, unconsciously smoothing his beard.

“I intend to get her out before … I’m going in there tonight.”

Reading Morgan’s look of determination, one Jacques knew only too well, he nodded. “I will ’ave the men ready.”

“One more thing,” Morgan said. “We’ll use the majority of our troops as a diversion—attack them head-on. There’re too many of them to defeat—inside
or out. Our only chance is for four or five men to go in and free the prisoners, get everyone outside through the tunnel, then pull back to cover. We can hold them off from right here. Once our position is secure, we’ll move south, as we originally planned. We’ll tie up with the ships and get the hell out of this godforsaken place.”

Ham grinned and so did Jacques. “Sounds damned good to me,” Ham said.

Still, it would take time to ready the men and equipment and make the arduous trip to the prison in the darkness. They couldn’t risk leaving until sundown, couldn’t risk being spotted. There would be no second chance—not for Brendan—not for Silver.

Morgan refused to consider the hours she would spend with the general until then.