He’d been assigned to work with Zach cutting lumber, probably to keep him nearby and under Zach’s watchful gaze. Angry at first to find himself relegated to such menial labor, he had been surprised at how much he enjoyed working outdoors. In some ways it was preferable to sitting behind a desk all day approving schedules, checking designs, and negotiating contracts. Although he’d tried on occasion to work with the men in the shipyards when he was younger, genteel society looked down upon physical labor, and his father had not allowed it. No son of his would work with his hands. A gentleman’s work was accomplished with his mind, not a hammer and saw.
Alec swallowed the last of his cider and made his way toward the stables, eager to get a better look at the mare he’d seen last week. Luke and Zach were still finishing their meal, and he doubted they’d notice his absence. And if they did, he really didn’t give a damn. He’d keep his word, but he’d not play the compliant prisoner.
In the courtyard, the cook was chasing a worried young hen that seemed to stay one step ahead of her, much to the amusement of the children sitting on the porch steps.
“It’s goin’ to be a pleasure puttin’ ye in me stew pot, ye silly bird!” Nan lunged with a grunt, only to have the hen spring to the left in a squawking mass of flying feathers.
The children shrieked with laughter. Alec had a feeling that the cook could have caught the chicken had she really tried, but that would have brought the performance to an abrupt end, disappointing her young audience.
After working in the sticky heat, he found the coolness of the stables a welcome relief. The pungent odors of manure, horses, and hay pricked his nostrils. This, at least, was familiar, reassuringly so. Though he was starting to feel more adjusted to his surroundings, he still felt himself a stranger in a very strange world. The flowers, the trees, the birds, even the scent of the wind were completely foreign to him. He did not belong here.
That would soon change.
When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was surprised to find not only Miss Blakewell’s mare, but several other sleek horses, the kind one might expect to see on a wealthy estate in England. Although they had clearly not been properly groomed or exercised for some time, he would not have hesitated to breed any of these animals with his stock at home. How someone in the remoteness of this new continent had managed to obtain such animals was beyond him. One of the horses, an enormous chestnut stallion, rolled his eyes and snorted a warning.
“I’d give a chest of sterling to see your dam, old boy.” He patted the velvet of the restless animal’s nose. “Easy now.”
The horse stomped nervously in its stall, tossing its head and nickering. Miss Blakewell’s mare returned the nicker from several stalls down.
“So that’s the trouble.” He patted the stallion’s neck and scratched its withers.
The animal quieted under his touch.
“You’re close enough to smell her, but too far away to do anything about it.”
He understood the stallion’s plight far better than he cared to admit. For all that he disliked her, Alec found himself unable to ignore Miss Blakewell. His body had nearly healed, and its response to her presence was becoming more and more pronounced. Even hard physical labor was not enough to make sleep come quickly at night. What he needed, he decided, was a woman.
Nearly three months had passed since that last night with Isabelle, and his body understandably yearned for sexual release. But while the other bondsmen on the estate sought their pleasure with servant women, he would not even consider it. He found none of them, not even Elly, the little minx who so captivated Zach, alluring, and he’d not risk getting a woman with child when he had no intention of remaining in the colonies.
More than once he’d tried to conjure up an image of Isabelle’s face, only to be thwarted by a vision of red-gold hair, green eyes, and full, rosy lips. Still, he’d sooner become a monk than bed Miss Blakewell. Not only did he find her far too outspoken and proud for a woman, but right now her father owned him. How could a man suffer that and remain a man? Besides, a liaison with her would probably lead him straight to the whipping post, if not the gallows, and he was in enough trouble as things were.
“Women.”
The stallion whinnied and nodded his head in agreement.
Alec was walking toward the mare’s stall to get a closer look when he noticed a pair of eyes spying on him from between the wooden slats of an empty stall at the end of the walkway. “A good day to you.”
A small, flaxen-haired boy barely old enough to wear breeches climbed slowly up the planks of the stall door.
“What’s your name, lad?”
The child eyed him suspiciously. “Jamie.”
The boy’s hair and clothes were covered with straw and more than a little dirt. Cake crumbs clung to his lips.
“Good day, Jamie.” He stroked the mare’s silky neck and addressed her. “And what’s your name?”
Aye, she was a beauty, though not half so lovely as her owner.
“Andromeda,” the boy answered on the mare’s behalf.
“Andromeda?”
The lad nodded.
“And the big stallion?”
“Debaron.”
Alec pondered the name for a moment before he realized the child was trying to say “Aldebaran.”
“He’s dangerous.” The boy eyed the stallion fiercely.
“Who told you that?”
The boy shrugged. “Everybody.”
“Then it must be true.”
“Are you a pirate?”
Alec chuckled. Barefoot and shirtless in loose cotton breeches, with his hair tied back in a simple leather thong, he must surely look like one. “No, but I build ships. Big ones.”
The boy’s face lit up. He jumped down from the gate and ran toward Alec, holding out a small wooden ship for his inspection. “Old Charlie whittled me this one. It’s a warship.”
Although tiny, it was expertly crafted, with hemp rigging and sails.
Alec crouched down in front of the boy. The child’s eyes were a dazzling green.
“Charlie carved this?” Alec had no idea who Charlie was, but he didn’t say so. “He did a fine job.”
The boy’s face lit up.
“I bet you use it to chase down pirates.”
Jamie nodded.
Such green eyes. They haunted Alec’s dreams. The boy must be hers. His curls were light blond, hers reddish gold, but the resemblance was uncanny. No wonder she was still unmarried. Bastardy had ruined many a maid’s chance of a good match.
“If you want, mister, Charlie can whittle one for you.”
“I’d like that.” Alec suddenly missed his nieces and nephew with a fierceness that nearly took his breath away. They would have grown so much by the time he was finally home again, he could only hope they wouldn’t have forgotten him.
“What’s your name, Mister?”
Alec hesitated, fighting back the wave of homesickness. “People here call me Cole.”
There was no need to confuse the child with the truth.
The boy’s other pocket began to squirm, and Alec heard a tiny, muffled meow.
“What have you there, lad?”
Jamie pulled out a fuzzy gray-and-white kitten so young its eyes had not yet opened.
“What a pretty kitten. But this little one needs her mother.”
“She’s mine.” Jamie clutched the kitten possessively to his chest.
“Aye, she’s yours, but she’s still too little to leave her mother. Without her mother’s milk, she’ll die.”
The boy looked at Alec, then down at the kitten, curls bobbing.
“Where did you find her?”
Jamie wrapped a dirty hand around one of Alec’s fingers and led him toward the stall from which he’d appeared.
* * *
Cassie was both relieved and disappointed to see that Cole had left the courtyard when she went outside a short time later. The lump on her head still ached, but not half as muc
h as her pride. Twice she’d made a fool of herself in front of that dreadful man. It would not happen again. It would not.
Charlie had finished his story about Pocahontas and was telling another about Captain Kidd and Skeleton Island. Jamie, who would never willingly miss the telling of this tale, was still nowhere to be found. Apprehension quickened her steps.
“Nan, have you seen Jamie?” She entered the cookhouse, where Elly stood grumbling over a washtub of dishes, while Nan plucked the chicken that would become the family’s evening meal.
“Nay, Missy. I haven’t seen him since he came by to wheedle a tart out of me about an hour ago. Run off again, ’as ’e?”
“Aye, he has.” How could it be so difficult to keep an eye on one tiny child? “Have you seen him, Elly?”
Elly shook her head peevishly.
“Eleanor!” Nan snapped.
Elly’s spine stiffened at the sound of her full, Christian name. “What?”
“Work is a blessing, child,” Nan scolded her. “Idle hands brew trouble. Now run and find Master Jamie.”
Elly nearly flew out the door.
“Teach that girl her place, I will,” Nan grumbled.
“If anyone can, Nan, you can.” Cassie laughed. “I’m going to check with Takotah. I found Jamie asleep in her lodge last time he disappeared.”
“Then you’ll want to take some bread and cider for your father.” Nan laid the chicken aside, then rapidly put together a basket of victuals and handed it to Cassie.
Cassie hurried to Takotah’s lodge, calling for Jamie as she went. Inside, Takotah was hanging bundles of plants upside down to dry.
“He is not here,” she said before Cassie could ask. “Did you check the cookhouse?”
Takotah knew Jamie well.
“Aye, but Nan hasn’t seen him either.” Cassie was genuinely worried now. She placed the basket of food next to the hearth. “How is Father?”
She’d been so busy, she’d not been to visit him in two days.
“He is unchanged. He talks to your mother’s spirit, but he eats well.”
It was the answer Cassie had expected, but hoped not to hear.
“How is the new man?” Takotah asked.
“The convict?” Cassie sniffed in annoyance. “He is the most awful, bothersome man I’ve ever known.”
Takotah smiled, the tattoos on her cheeks and chin seeming to come alive as she did. “He is also very handsome, is he not? And strong.”
Cassie stammered for a response, wishing she could disagree, but the direction her thoughts had taken lately made an honest answer impossible.
“Micah says he is not to be trusted, and I agree.” She failed to mention that Micah had been surprised and pleased by Cole’s quick learning and his willingness to work.
Takotah smiled, but said nothing.
If she hadn’t been so worried about Jamie, Cassie would have been irritated by this. But, genuinely afraid now, she barely noticed and turned to leave with a muttered farewell.
Even before she reached the cookhouse, Cassie could see something was terribly wrong. Micah stood in the courtyard holding his flintlock, deep in conversation with Zach and the other men. Nan was pacing to and fro, wringing her hands on her apron. Elly was fidgeting nervously. Redemptioners and slaves stood together, whispering among themselves. Then they saw her and grew silent.
Her skin crawled.
Nan ran toward her as fast as her plump old legs could carry her. “Oh, Missy, he’s gone!”
Chapter Five
Cassie’s heart stopped. “Jamie?”
Dear God, what did Nan mean by “gone”?
“No! Well, aye!” the cook stammered. “But the convict is missin’, too! He’s run off, he has!”
“Oh, God!”
Her brother was lost, and now no one could find the convict? If anything had happened to Jamie, she would never forgive herself. It was she who was entrusted with the boy’s care, and it was she who had brought the felon to live among them. Why, oh, why had she taken such a risk?
“Most likely he’ll be usin’ the boy as a hostage,” Micah said, looking a decade older than when she’d last seen him this morning. “Luke says Braden was with them till the noon meal. When he and Zach finished, the convict was gone.”
“I can’t believe Cole would hurt the boy,” Zach said.
“He won’t.” Everyone looked toward Luke. The man had hardly spoken since his arrival on the plantation. “He’s not that kind of man.”
“Where have you looked?” The steadiness in Cassie’s voice belied the panic that flowed through her veins like poison. Her brother could be killed—or worse. She had heard stories of men who did things to children, indescribable things. If Mr. Braden had no qualms about ravishing women, then perhaps . . .
“We’ve checked everywhere, Missy,” Nan said.
“He can’t have gotten too far. Zach and I are goin’ to saddle up and ride with the men along the riverbank,” Micah said. “It’s harder to make good time through the forest, especially with a child. If he’s as smart as he seems, Braden will use the river to keep his sense of direction. He’ll be headin’ for a port town. If we find no sign of him, we’ll check along the road to Fredericksburg.”
“I’ll do that,” Cassie said.
The men stared at her but said nothing.
“You can’t expect me to sit here while some convict drags Jamie through the countryside. Besides, we can’t afford to lose time.”
“What’re you gonna do if you find him?” asked Micah.
“I’ll take Father’s pistol. I know how to use it.”
“Miss Cassie...” Micah shook his head.
“I have to do something. If no one will join me, I’ll go alone, but I’ll not sit by while Jamie’s life is in danger!”
“I’ll help,” Nate called from somewhere in the crowd.
“Count me in,” Tom added from behind her.
Other voices called out their willingness to join her. The sound of an approaching rider interrupted them.
“Oh, no.” Cassie felt her heart sink.
Of all the times he could have chosen to call …
“Bloody hell,” Zach grumbled none too quietly, echoing her thoughts.
Micah, who by law could not carry a firearm, handed the flintlock to Zach.
Geoffrey Crichton rode up on his roan gelding and pulled to a stop in the courtyard. The powdered wig he’d chosen to wear over his blond hair looked positively silly. He hopped down from the horse and strutted through the crowd toward Cassie, his exaggerated gait an ill disguise for his limp.
“Catherine.” He bent to kiss her hand. “Is something amiss?”
She hated to involve him in Blakewell affairs. The less he knew, the safer they all were. Not that Geoffrey was a bad sort, really. He simply didn’t know how to mind his own affairs. He’d never approve of her running the estate, and Cassie had gone to great lengths to keep him from discovering the truth. He’d made it clear many times that he believed docility in women a virtue. But there was no way to keep her brother’s disappearance a secret, not when they’d be crossing other planters’ lands to find him, and she had an obligation to warn the neighbors that the convict was at large.
“Jamie is missing.” She braced herself for his reaction. “And the convict is gone.”
“Indeed.” Geoffrey calmly flicked the lace at his wrists. “It’s no surprise. My father and I were afraid something like this would happen, especially with your father away.”
“Micah is taking some men along the river. I will lead a party along the road to Fredericksburg.”
Geoffrey looked at Micah with open contempt. She knew he viewed all men with dark skin as slaves. In his mind there were no exceptions.
“If your blackamoor would provide me with a fresh mount, I will gladly lead the second party. This is no job for a woman, and I do have some experience in tracking runaways.” He adjusted his leather gloves. “If you could dispatch a messenger to Crichton
Hall, I’m sure my father would gladly lend you the use of his hounds and some of his men.”
Cassie bristled at his thoughtless dismissal of both her and Micah but said nothing. Now was not the time. She needed Geoffrey’s help. Her brother’s life was at risk.
“Thank you, Geoffrey.” One of the field hands took Geoffrey’s gelding and led it to the stables.
Geoffrey began barking orders to the assembled men.
“Missy! They’re in here!” the field hand shouted, motioning to the stable.
Cassie lifted her skirts and ran, sickened by the taste of her own fear, oblivious to those who followed her.
“Jamie!” she cried.
Inside, she saw Cole and Jamie emerging from the far stall. If he had touched so much as a hair on Jamie’s head . . .
But Jamie looked unhurt, unafraid. Cole looked puzzled, his brows drawn together in a confused frown. Rather than holding a homemade knife or some other crude weapon to her brother’s throat, as Cassie had expected, Cole was cuddling a newborn kitten against his bare chest. Astonished and unable to breathe, Cassie could do nothing more than stare.
* * *
Alec had just begun to explain to Jamie how cats bathed their kittens with their tongues when the stable doors had burst open and a crowd had rushed in. Foremost among them were Miss Blakewell, who looked wan and frightened, Micah, the overseer, Zach, who was carrying a flintlock, and an absurdly dressed man who strode into the stable as if he owned it.
“What in the hell is going on?” Alec looked from one angry face to the next.
“That’s what we’re wantin’ to know.” Zach’s face was grim.
“I’ll ask the questions.” The overdressed fop glared at the sawyer, as if this were a play and Zach had stolen his line. “Come here, felon, and don’t touch the boy.”
Comprehension rushed through Alec, leaving him stunned. He felt his gorge rise, willing himself to speak with a calmness he did not feel. “We’ll talk more about ships and kittens another time. Move along, lad.”