The Bargain (9 page)

He placed her on his mattress, his hands raked over her bodice, the edges of her corset. She waited for him to touch the scars, to brand her with love. Maybe she'd finally forget the hate that had abused her so long ago.

His hands stilled.

Then nothing.
 

He'd moved away. Taking a pillow, he left her shaking, and raw. "You'll not be a mistress to me, but a wife, Precious Jewell."

This wasn't the time for her foolish excuses to come back to her. Had he felt the scars through her blouse and guessed the words carved on her skin? Or did he guess what she really was and wanted her no more?
 

She bunched up her collar. "I don't understand."

He sat on the edge of the mattress. "I was injured in the Peninsula War, very badly hurt. I suffer from bouts of impotence. And being up for the last day and a half, I haven't the strength."

The bed rocked as he lifted then settled down on the floor.
 

She moved to the edge to watch him. To make sure she understood. "Don't you want me?"

"More than I can say. I want to appear noble and take you as my bride like you deserve, not a mistress. But that wouldn't be true. I simply can't. This is my struggle."
 

A sigh hissed from him. "Let's both get some sleep. We'll see Dennis in the morning. Then I can send my baroness and my boy to safety."

"Gareth--"

"Please, don't. As a man, I need to know you and Jonas are safe. Don't take that from me, too."

What could she say to restore his pride? Most of the men she'd known boasted about their exploits and even hurt women to prove their fortitude. The night Gareth had plucked her from the ocean, he took such a teasing by his own men. What could the captain's woman utter to be salve to his wounds?

Nothing.
 

But Precious wasn't big with words anyway. No, she was more about action. She'd wait for Gareth to start snoring, and then she'd sneak to that one Dutch woman who'd teased about Xhosa women being brave. Mrs. Branddochter's taunts had made Precious go into those snake woods. Where else could the chief and his daughter be hidden so well?

She laid back and waited. The captain's woman would save Port Elizabeth for him. If there was any hope for Precious to be happy, it had to be here with Gareth in Port Elizabeth and not on some boat away from him.

Light touched his lids. Gareth had seen better days.
 

And better nights. He groaned inside and let his eyes adjust to the daylight spilling into his bedchamber. He stretched his arms trying hard to ease the ache of his back. Between his days of horseback riding to falling on the floor with Precious, it really hadn't stood a chance. But it was morning. His energy always restored then.
 

With a yawn, he turned to peak at the rumpled bed sheets. Oh, Precious. In a few hours, he'd make an honest woman of and perhaps be able to make up for last night's disaster. His pride as a man, his love for that woman demanded he make amends. Thoughts of her melting in his arms filled him.
 

Last night. Sad wasn't the adjective that sprung to his mind. He remembered the days on the Margeaux taking care of her, snuggling near. Would those images eclipse the memory of her shimmering eyes filling with rejection?
 

He sighed with frustration. The woman had decided she wanted him and there wasn't a blasted thing he could do about it. She hadn't been jittery to his touch. Perhaps he'd finally bridged over the hurt some scoundrel had inflicted upon her. If Mzwamadoda bought at least one more day of delay, he'd take the opportunity to focus solely on her, on loving her, of giving her everything within him before setting her and his son on the Margeaux.
 

She hadn't stirred from the lump of bed sheets. In the light of day, he'd be able to tell if her tears where the vestiges of frustration or something else. Maybe she didn't regret how things had changed between them. Could Precious love him too?

He had to know. Gareth slogged to his feet.

But the bed lay empty.
 

A twinge of sadness touched him, but Precious wasn't the kind to lay about.
 

He'd make himself presentable and then march her down to the blacksmith. Under the protections of marriage, she could be assured of his commitment. Her rights and her ability to care for Jonas would be strengthened, if he weren't able to survive the Xhosa attack.

Rubbing at the growth of shadow on his chin, he angled to his dresser with his razor. A good shave would set him straight. He thought about Precious again, of how close they'd become, of how close she'd wanted to be. Maybe, there would be a moment, where they could find a haven, a final lasting memory as husband and wife. The notion made him hurry his toiletries.

Dressed in his best blue coat, Gareth left his chambers and wandered past Mrs. Narvel's open door. Sitting up, she adjusted the blankets about her little one and sang. He half-expected to see Precious fussing about her, but didn't. A bit of disappointment filled him. He brushed it away. "How are you today? How's the baby?"

"We are both doing well. You don't know how grateful I am. God knows how to give the best blessings, even if we have to wait a little while for them. "

Gareth folded his arms, and pushed away the notion that somehow this was in reference to his and Precious's situation last night. "Have you seen my fiancée this morning? We are supposed to wed today."

"Earlier." A smile blossomed on Mrs. Narvel's face. She tucked her little girl against her flowery pink robe. "Oh! I am so happy for you. No wonder she was dressed so fancy. That emerald striped dress will be a wedding dress."
 

Emerald stripes? Eliza's gown, the one he'd brought with them from Firelynn? The one Precious had refused. Something in his gut started to twist, but that must be wedding jitters or angst over Precious in his first wife's clothes. A bad feeling settled in his gut. Did Precious know he sought to marry her, not a copy of Eliza?

Jonas's strong giggle came from down the hall.
 

Gareth turned his head in the direction of the noise. "Well, let me go greet my son. I suspect that is where my bride will be."

He bowed, then took a few steps toward the boy's bedchamber. Maybe they should take Jonas with him since she would become his stepmother as his Mammie. Mrs. Narvel might not be up to watching the little fellow and her new girl. Yes, that would be a good idea. Jonas must be having a marvelous time.
 

Maybe she was explaining about marrying Gareth.
 

Heart pounding, he turned the knob. He wiped his eyes in surprise.

Mzwamadoda sat on the floor playing with Jonas, rolling blocks between his thick tree-trunk legs.

Gareth wiped at his brow again and just stared. "What are you doing here?"

"I came before daybreak to tell you that Xhosa will be attacking at noon. I could not get Bezile to agree to new talks."

Gareth went to the window and looked out at his desperate colony. "That's only a couple of hours from now. How am I going to get all the colonists on the ship? Why didn't you tell me as soon as you got here?"

"Your woman asked me to watch the small one and let you sleep."

He spun and looked at the warrior. He wanted to sneer at him as if he'd become crazed. "Why would she need you to do that?"

"Because she left. She says she knows where the chief is."

He raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe his ears, but then he thought about the most rash, crazy, loving woman in the world and knew it was all true. "Why didn't you stop her?"

"They don't let Xhosa men in the white man's brothels. And she thinks if too much fuss occurs, they'll hide him. I have to say I agree."

Madame Neeltje's? "You both are crazed. Come with me."

"She has my horse. And remember, your people are ready to kill anyone that looks as handsome as me."

Gareth bent and hugged Jonas good morning. For a second, he held his boy tight.

"Papa." Soft and sweet were those words. Love filled him almost as much as the fear he felt for Precious's safety.
 

"I'm going to need you to be good for Mrs. Narvel. Your new friend must come with me."

Mzwamadoda sat back against the wall, folded his kaross over his arms. "Oh no, Welling. It is safer in here with the little one and the blocks."

"You are with me. You are protected. And you need to see the chief to verify for Bezile and the Xhosa that he's not a prisoner."

The man shrugged and stood. "Perhaps. But I must say, I want one of these women of America. These seem determined to give their all for their men."

Yes, that was exactly what that blasted woman would do, even if it got her killed.

Precious followed Mrs. Branddochter down the pink painted hallway in the Neeltje brothel. She tried to pretend wearing the low cut gown felt normal. Eliza's dress was pretty, with the emerald stripes, but it showed too much skin. Precious was embarrassed. She balled her fingers in her shawl. "This is a long house."

The buxom Dutch woman nodded and continued to lead her through the corridor. "It will do."

With the woman's back to her, Precious tried to hold her shoulder level, tried to appear ready to sell her body. Yet, what did that mean?

The man before took her virtue, no asking. Last night she was so weak for Gareth, she was willing to give it away on a promise in the dark. Promises in the dark didn't last. Maybe she was the words cut into her flesh.
 

Did Gareth truly love her? Or was it just his way of manipulating her to agree to marrying him? He liked to win and he liked to get his way. If he were going to send her and Jonas away, why did it matter?
 

If Precious had any hope of finding out, she needed to discover the Xhosa chief.
 
So many doors lined the hall. Which one could hide the king? She twisted her fingers again in the fringes of her shawl. This had to work, and not just be another reckless thing. Mzwamadoda said the attack would happen today without a miracle.

Precious bumped into the woman's back, for the madame had stopped short. "Sorry."

Mrs. Branddochter turned, her face ladened with a heavy frown. "Your head seems somewhere else. I was very surprised that you showed up. You're not thinking of going back to Lord Welling are you?"
 

"I…ah. No."
 

She grabbed Precious's arm as if to shake some sense in her. "You weren't happy with the captain? When I heard the brute put you over his shoulder yesterday, I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to me. I don't let the men get physical. If they hit you or do anything you don't like, they never come back. My girls are clean. I take care of them.

Precious's heart was flooded with thoughts of last night with Gareth's hands on her. Blood rushed to her face. She wondered if the woman could see her warming cheeks. "No. He's not. Just when…I."

"Child, you don't have to say. Though I dearly want to hear." She released her and exposed a grin like an alligator. "Oh, I so want to hear about the bad captain."

The lady's brow lifted. Her round face moved from side to side. "You don't look bruised up. Maybe you are use to being his fancy."

That horrible word, the sorry fate that fell upon some of the other women enslaved in Charleston, possibly her own mother. A shudder rippled over her exposed bosom. She drew her shawl down about her. The cut of the dress wasn't indecent but much more than Precious would ever feel comfortable with out of her home. "He was a man to me."

She meant a good one, a decent one who treated her like a lady even if it didn't serve his purposes. She couldn't admit that now and ruin her plans to find the chief and his daughter. And wasn't it safer to believe, he didn't love her? You can't hurt from losing something you never possessed.

Mrs. Branddochter cackled, her teeth looked extra pointy. "Well most men are a little rough. But I protect my girls and this place." She put her large hands on Precious again and made her spin. "Except for that scar on your neck, you are pretty."

She tugged at Precious braids, but the coils sprung back into place. "I guess It will do. I'll save you up for the best penny. Men like different. And you are very pretty even if you are dark. Now go on in and meet the other girls. I'll come for you when the customers arrive."

Precious sucked in a breath. She planned on being gone before the selling commenced. "They don't just come at night?"

The woman laughed. "Men are men all the time. Once their drinking has worn off, they come to pay for loving. Now go on."

Panic fluttered her heart. What if the chief wasn't here? Or worse, what if she couldn't get out of the brothel before customers arrived? No rethinking her plans now. She shrugged inwardly and entered into a room.

The chamber was sparse save a couple of beds. Three women looked at her as she entered. They weren't disheveled or chained about as slaves. Except for one, they looked healthy, like regular women.

Mrs. Branddochter pushed her forward. "Ladies, this is Precious Jewell. She's come to me, so I'd like you to be neighborly to her."
 

Two of the three said in unison, "Yes, Madame Neeltje."
 

Precious turned back to the brothel owner with a brow popped.

"That's what my girls call me." She marched past Precious to the lump in the closest bed, the unresponsive woman. "Mrs. Scott, you have to work tonight. Your boy's been gone long enough. I can't keep this bed for you if you don't work. I'll find you someone nice."

Precious's hand flew to her mouth. The lump was a grieving mother.

The poor woman lifted up. "He ain't dead. He's been stolen, I say."

Shaking her head, the Madame turned. "Can't satisfy my clients if you've lost your mind. I'll give you another week. Then you have to get to work."

A girl with dark black hair got up and patted the bed. "I'll work extra good for her. And you've got a new one here to make up the lost income. Please give her time."