Page 19 of Paradise Wild

  Jared groaned. He had not considered Naneki. How could he have forgotten that his mistress was a servant in the very house he was bringing his wife to? Did Corinne effect his thinking that much?

  "What is that the wahine carries?"

  Jared saw that Corinne and Florence had stepped from the carriage. Florence held the bassinet in her arms.

  "There is a baby—"

  "A keiki?" Akela exclaimed and ran forward without waiting for Jared to continue.

  Corinne became alarmed when the huge Hawaiian wom­an ran toward them and stopped next to a terrified Florence to peer into the bassinet. When she reached inside the lit­tle bed and attempted to pick Michael up, Corinne nearly pounced on her.

  Florence anticipated Corinne's move and stepped in front of her. "Please, madam, he's sleeping," Florence said quickly.

  "He no sleep." Akela dismissed Florence's protest. She reached again for Michael, this time lifting him from the bassinet. Florence and Corinne were taken aback when they saw tears in her eyes. She gazed down at the baby. "I wait long time to hold Ialeka's keiki."

  Jared came up behind her, his face grim. "The baby is not mine, Aunty. He belongs to my wife's maid."

  Akela looked at Jared, then back down at Michael. Then she shook her head knowingly and, against protests from Florence, carried Michael to the front porch and sat down on the step, examining Michael critically in the light of the lamp.

  They all followed the large woman to the porch, and Corinne's heart beat frantically. She wanted to snatch Mi­chael away from her. She couldn't do that, though. Nor could she say anything, not with Jared standing right there beside her, bewilderment in his eyes. She would have to let Florence talk for her, and hope that she did so quickly.

  Akela was frowning. The keiki she cuddled in her arms was the image of the keiki she had helped Ranelle to birth twenty-eight years ago. Only the eyes were different, and she looked at the two haole wahine and saw the eyes of the mother, and the mother was not the wahine she had taken the keiki from. The mother was the other one, the pretty one with the gold hair and anxious face.

  She looked at Jared accusingly. "Why you deny this keiki? You think to fool Aunty Akela?"

  Jared stared incredulously at her. "What in damnation are you talking about?"

  Corinne pinched Florence into rapid speech. "Really, Mr. Burkett. This woman's insinuations are insulting," she said indignantly, and bent down to take Michael from the old woman.

  Akela stood up, towering over Florence, and glared down at her. "Why you say this keiki yours?"

  Florence gasped. "Because he is! Now give him to me!"

  "Give her the boy, Aunty," Jared ordered, his voice cold. "I don't know what you've got into your head, but you're wrong."

  "No! You wrong!' She pierced him with dark eyes, and then pointed a denouncing finger at Corinne. "That one is the mama, not this one!"

  Jared turned to Corinne. She was hypnotized by the growing suspicion in his eyes. His face was a mask of fury and she rebelled at the thought that he might just believe this old woman.

  "Don't you dare look at me like that!" she said in an offended tone.

  "Corinne, if "

  "This is ridiculous!" She cut him off, then lowered her voice. "If you will just think about it, Jared, you will see how foolish all this is. That baby is too old to be yours. If I had a baby, I certainly wouldn't deny him. I wish Michael were mine. I have helped Florence care for him and I've actually grown to love him a great deal."

  Jared sighed, running his hands through his hair. "She's right, Aunty. The baby couldn't possibly be mine. We were married only a year ago tomorrow." Corinne's gasp drew Jared's eyes back to her. "You didn't remember that, did you?"

  Corinne's back stiffened. "Why should I?" she shrugged. "The day holds no fond memories for me."

  Jared felt his anger building. Could she really have for­gotten their wedding night, the night that had haunted his dreams ever since?

  Jared saw that they were all staring at him in surprise. Was his rage so obvious? He would have to get a grip on himself. He had never before let his feelings be so trans­parent.

  What was happening to him?

  "Go into the house," he told them. Then he went off to unload the baggage and see to the horses while Akela led the other women inside. The house was dark and quiet Akela carried the lamp from the porch through a large living room in the center of the house. Stuffed sofas, sandal-wood tables, potted palms, and a piano dominated the room. Beaded doorways were on each side of it, and Akela went through the one on the right which showed a narrow cor­ridor leading to three rooms.

  "You sleep here," she told Florence in a whisper, open­ing the middle door.

  She went inside and lit a lamp on a tall bureau. The room was not large. It was oddly long and narrow, but looked comfortable, with a small bed and a chair and desk against one wall. Woven matting covered the floor, and there was a large wardrobe and even a separate bathroom at the end of the room.

  "Very nice," Florence remarked.

  "Shh," Akela whispered. "Malia sleeping next room. No wake her, or be trouble."

  "Well, I'll be as quiet as I can," Florence replied, but Akela was already leaving the room, indicating that Co-rinne should follow.

  "I don't like that woman," Corinne whispered as she leaned over to kiss Michael good night.

  "She's very astute, if you ask me," Florence replied. "But go on now. Michael and I will be all right."

  Corinne left Florence and found Akela waiting impa­tiently at the end of the corridor. She followed her into a much larger bedroom at the front of the house. Once a porcelain lamp was lit on a bedside table, Akela started out the door.

  "Who is Malia?" Corinne asked, but Akela ignored her question.

  The big woman stopped at the door and gazed at Co­rinne thoughtfully. "I know you lie about keiki, but we be friends anyway, for you give my Ialeka a son and that is good. Someday he know and be happy."

  It took Corinne a moment to reply indignantly, "Michael is not minet"

  But Akela had shut the door behind her. Corinne began pacing. That woman was going to ruin everything if she persisted.

  When Akela came back a short while later with hot water for a bath, Corinne ignored her. She pretended an interest in the room that would be hers, noting that it was long, like Florence's, though much wider. A large bed with wooden posts sat in the center of the left wall, covered by a quilted rose silk spread. There were tall cupboards on both sides of the door, and across the room was another door, leading to the bathroom. To the right of the bathroom was a window and a big stuffed chair in front of it with a matching foot rest upholstered in dark green brocade, shot with silver. Two more windows with lacy rose curtains looked out on the front yard with all its flowers. Between them was a chaise, an odd-shaped mahogany coffee table before it

  Corinne moved to the dresser beside the bed, noticing pictures in silver frames. There were two of them, one of a man and woman, and another of a little girl with long black hair in pigtails and an impish smile. Corinne stared at the first picture, wondering if these two people were Jared's parents. The woman was stunning, with silky black hair and blue-gray eyes exactly like Jared's. Was this the woman her own father had loved?

  "Your bath ready," Akela said, startling her. '

  Corinne turned to thank her, but the big woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a tight bun was already out of the room. Corinne didn't waste any time. That hot bath sounded heavenly. Akela had even scented it with a deli­cate sandalwood fragrance, and Corinne was grudgingly grateful, deciding she just might like the big Hawaiian woman after all. She quickly disrobed and climbed into the large tub, then leaned back and relaxed for the first time that day, letting all her problems drift away with the fragrant steam.

  A loud thud in the bedroom shattered her quiet peace and Corinne bolted upright. When no other sounds were forthcoming, she realized that Jared had brought her bag­gage into the room. She relaxed again and
took her time, not wanting to leave the tub even after the water had turned cold. But she was already finding it difficult to keep her eyes open.

  Corinne opened the bathroom door warily, a large towel wrapped around her, but no one was in the room. The lug­gage was there and she opened several cases before finding a nightgown and robe. Then she found her brush, and after a few quick strokes, she climbed into bed.

  She fell back on downy pillows and soft sheets and sighed, then groaned. The lamp was still burning on the other side of the bed. She reached over to extinguish it, but stopped when the bedroom door opened.

  Jared stood there in the doorway, almost exactly as she had seen him that morning, barefoot and wearing only his trousers, a towel wrapped about his neck. He had shaved off the beard, and looked more like the Jared she had first met.

  "What do you want, Jared?"

  Ever so slowly, his lips curled. "Not.a thing, my dear."

  "Then why are you here."

  "This happens to be my room." He closed the door and came towards her.

  Corinne sat up, holding the covers up to her neck. "/ was led to this room."

  "Of course. You're my wife."

  "I won't share the same room with you!" she hissed. "Now get out of here!"

  "I gave up my bed to you last night," he said in a cool tone, coming around to the other side of the bed. "I'm not about to do so again."

  "Don't blame me for thai, damn you!" she retorted hotly, green fire flashing in her eyes. "I didn't ask to sleep there. Nor do I want to be here. If you want your bed, you're welcome to it." She slid to the floor and grabbed the robe she had left on the foot of the bed. "I'll sleep someplace else!"

  "I'm afraid that's not possible, Corinne," he replied. "There are no other rooms available."

  She started for the door. "Then I'll sleep with Florence," she said haughtily over her shoulder.

  Jared bounded after her and caught her arm. His grip was viselike as he swung her around to face him.

  "You're not going anywhere," he said harshly, and pushed her back into the room. "Now get back in that bed."

  Corinne stumbled. Her unbound hair fell across her face. When she managed to throw it back over her shoulders and look at him again, the angry response she was about to give him died on her lips. He had tossed his towel away and was starting to remove his trousers.

  "No!" she gasped, her face draining. "Don't you come near me, Jared!"

  He halted his movements, staring at her in bewilder­

  ment. Then he suddenly threw his head back and laughed

  deeply. _
  "I mean it, Jared!" Corinne said, her voice rising in hys­teria.

  "I don't sleep with clothes on, Corinne. I never have," he explained, still chuckling. "And all I intended to do was sleep."

  Corinne felt her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "You will sleep by yourself, then." She snatched the cover from the bed. "I will use the chaise, thank you!"

  Jared sobered quickly, watching her stomp away from the bed in her haughty manner. His eyes narrowed and turned a stormy gray.

  "The one thing you can be assured of is that I won't touch you," he said, his voice heavy with disdain. "Your body has been used a bit too much to interest me."

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and took perverse pleasure in it. She straightened her back rigidly and went to the chaise.

  Damn her for looking so beautiful! He had been stunned when he entered the room, seeing her there in bed, so inviting, so damnably tempting. And then her eyes had sparkled with anger and she was even more beautiful, magnificent in her fury. But he had control of himself. He wouldn't allow her to make him feel anything.

  It was only lust, but he still detested himself for feeling it, and was determined not to let her know that she could still stir his blood.

  He turned off the lamp and yanked his pants off, then fell heavily into bed. As tired as he was, it was a long time before he fell asleep.

  Chapter 27

  WHEN Jared woke the next morning, he dressed quickly. Corinne was still sleeping, lying on her back with one arm fallen to rest on the floor, the other thrust over her forehead. Her long golden hair also dangled to the floor over the end of the chaise, and the silk spread she had used was kicked to her feet, revealing slim curves be­neath her nightgown.

  Jared stood looking down at her for a moment, his face set in hard lines. But he had spent half the night thinking about her. He had to get her out of his mind now. He had Malia to face.

  Malia was Hawaiian for Marie, which she was never called. It was only eight months since he had seen his younger sister. But in truth, it was well over a year since he had actually paid much attention to her. This was un­like Jared, for he loved Malia better than anyone in the world. Since their mother died, he had watched over her, worried over her, and cared for her as though he were her mother instead of her brother.

  But the past year had been a torment for Jared, and he had to admit that Malia's eighteen-year-old concerns had receded into the background of his thoughts.

  Malia had come back here in February, furious with Jared for ignoring her. And according to Akela, she was in a worse temper now. He couldn't blame her. They had always been so close, Jared taking it upon himself to make it up to her for the loss of their mother. For him not to tell her of his marriage must have been a shock to her. He wouldn't even consider that she might have heard the sordid details about his wife. No one would bring that kind of gossip to an eighteen-year-old girl.

  Corinne started to stir and Jared left quickly, closing the door quietly. He heard voices in the kitchen and knew that Malia would be having breakfast there. The formal dining room was always ignored except when there were guests, for he and Malia both preferred the warm atmos­phere of the kitchen and Akela's jovial presence.

  Corinne's eyes fluttered open just as Jared left the room. Her spirits soared as she heard the door close. He would be going back to Honolulu now. And she had every inten­tion of leaving soon after he did. He couldn't keep her isolated here in the country. She would find a way back to the city, even if she had to hire someone to take her. She still had her jewels and also a small amount of cash. No, she wouldn't be here much longer.

  Michael's faint cry from the next room "broke into her thoughts. Corinne got up, wincing at the kinks in her neck and back, but quickly crossed the room to pull a pink-and-white day dress from one of her trunks. Dressed, a simple ribbon tying back her long hair, she left her room and knocked softly on Florence's door, then entered.

  Florence looked up from the bassinet which had been set up at the foot of her bed. Corinne joined heir there, smiling down at her son.

  "Did he just get up?"

  Florence chuckled. "He's been awake for hours, just lying there cooing to himself. But I guess he finally decided he's hungry."

  "Come on, sweetheart." Corinne picked him up, snug­gling her cheek next to his. "Mama will feed you."

  "You had better let me lock the door first, then," Flor­ence suggested.

  Corinne shook her head. "That's not necessary. Jared has left already."

  "But that Akela is still here," Florence reminded her as she marched to the door. "There's no point in taking chances. How she could be so sure that Michael is yours and Jared's is beyond me."

  "She must have known Jared when he was a baby. The resemblance is there. You and I have both noticed that Michael has too many of Jared's features."

  "Well, it's a good thing Jared hasn't really had a good look at Michael in strong light."

  "Oh, stop worrying, Florence. I'll be getting us out of here today. I hope you're up to that long ride back to the city."

  "Just how are you going to get us out, might I ask?"

  "I don't know yet, but I will," Corinne replied. "So don't bother unpacking."

  After Michael was sated and cooing contentedly in his bassinet again, Corinne and Florence started to leave the room. They stopped short when they heard loud voices.

&nbs
p; "I thought you said your husband had left," Florence remarked.

  "I thought he had."

  Corinne bit her lip, wondering if she should keep out of his way. His deep voice sounded awfully angry. But who was he yelling at? Was Akela at him again about Michael?

  "Come on," Corinne said reluctantly. "We'd better go see what the fuss is about."

  Jared was staring at his sister, gripping the ends of the long kitchen table. Malia's small chin was set stubbornly, and he flinched from the condemnation in her striking blue eyes. The one thing he had thought wasn't possible was indeed possible. She knew everything.

  He was waiting for the answer to his question, but it was not forthcoming. "I repeat, Malia. Who told you?"

  "It doesn't matter how I found out!" she replied hotly. "But now I know why you didn't bother to tell me you had married. You were too ashamed!"

  "I said who!" he shouted, pounding a fist on the table and rattling dishes.

  Malia flinched, but kept her chin jutted forward. She answered petulantly. "Our neighbor, John Pierce. He felt I had a right to know, considering that it's my family everyone's talking about."

  Jared leaned back, his eyes taking on a steely glint. John Pierce! He should have guessed. The blackguard had been after their land ever since Jared could remember, for his land bordered on each side and he wanted all of it. But Jared's father had refused to sell, and so had Jared. For spite, John Pierce had run to Rodney Burkett years ago with the story of seeing Ranelle on the beach with another man. Now he had done it again, stirring up trouble just for spite.

  "How could you marry a woman like that, Jared?" Malia's question cut into his thoughts.

  The hurt in her eyes made him furious. "It's none of your damned business!"

  She gasped, her eyes widening. "How can you say that?" she cried. "When you married her, she became my sister-in-law. Do you think I like having a whore for—"

  Akela swung around from the counter where she had been grinding poi to a smooth paste. "Malia, you watch' your mouth!" she scolded her.

  "Well, it's true!" Malia cried. "Isn't it, Jared? Can you deny it?" When he couldn't, she glared at him. "Why didn't you stop her? Everyone knew what she was doing. I can't believe you didn't!"