Keeping Victoria's Secret (24 page)

“Does this mistake have something to do with
the rain? Is that it?” Vicky asked sarcastically.

Then it all poured out of him in a rush. “No
damn it! It’s you. It’s always you! I’ve tried my best to keep away
from you! There’s a good reason. Hey, I don’t want you or anyone
else, to think I’m trying to get the farm back by getting close to
you. I’ve been watching out for you, trying to make sure Van Winkle
doesn’t swindle you out of this place. I’m still worried about
that, no matter what Fred says. Victoria, when you went off with
Joe today it was as if somebody stuck a knife in me." Jack reached
for her. "Ever since we made love…there’s been something special
between us; don’t you understand?”

Vicky wasn’t sure exactly what it was Jack
was trying to say, but she was touched by his concern. “Did you
think that Joe was going to hurt me in some way?”

“No!" He drew her closer. "If you’re
interested in Joe, I’ll try to understand. If you want to date him,
that’s your business. Joe’s a great guy. Probably make some girl a
great husband some day.”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh
or cry. It was all too much for her. “I can’t say that I’m
particularly interested in Joe, not yet.” She stepped back and
found herself yelling at Jack. “Listen, I don’t want to be alone
all my life. I would like to get married someday and God willing
have a family. You’re obviously not interested in that kind of a
future with me, or any girl. You’ve probably dated half the girls
in town already, so please just let me alone.” Brushing tears away,
she slipped inside her front door and ran upstairs, pursued closely
by two scrambling kittens.

Peter Dewitt toyed with the stem of his
crystal wine glass as he studied his lovely young guest from across
the dining table. The servants, under his direction, had
necessarily dressed the unfortunate girl in some of his late wife,
Marguerite’s clothing. Taken from him the year before by the yellow
fever, she was sorely missed and he was only now recovering from
the loss.

This girl, Gwendolyn, was indeed beautiful,
with delicate features and striking red tresses that flowed over
perfectly shaped alabaster shoulders. Sarah, his Carib housekeeper,
had altered for her a blue silk gown with a very low décolletage
that revealed a healthy portion of her full breasts. Her eyes, a
deep blue like that of the dress, sparkled at him in the
candlelight.

They were enjoying a last glass of wine
together following an elaborate meal in the large dining room of
his plantation’s manor house. It was a grand mansion situated on a
cliff overlooking the sea. Servants had carried in platters of
crispy fried fish, heavily spiced chicken with rice, flat bread and
every variety of vegetables. They’d hovered attentively ensuring
their plates and wine glasses were kept filled. Gwendolyn hadn’t
tasted anything so wonderful since leaving England three months
earlier on board the brigantine, Charlotte.

“
A good business it was we managed to
spirit you away when we did. That Captain of theirs was determined
you should remain, but… though it was a close run thing there for a
moment.” Dewitt shrugged elaborately, took up his glass, and
sipped. “We had the upper hand on them, at least temporarily. I am
gratified to know that those devils did not molest you while they
held you in captivity.

Now Miss Butterfield, I hope you will make
yourself comfortable here in my home until we can arrange passage
on a ship to return you safely to your people. If there is anything
further you require, please do not hesitate to ask.” His gaze
strayed to her soft breasts, barely contained by the blue silk. He
smiled at her over the rim of his glass and imagined what it would
be like to make love to this beauty. With an effort, he dismissed
the thought from his mind and refilled their glasses.

“
I can’t thank you enough, for my rescue
and the many things you’ve done for my comfort. You are correct my
good sir, I was not abused. I was treated roughly at times, but….”
She darted a suspicious frown at him. Just how is it he knows I
wasn’t molested or cruelly treated? Shall I trust this man, Peter
Dewitt? How could he have known what transpired during my weeks of
captivity?

Swallowing wine, she continued, “I can tell
you this, if it were not for the bravery of Captain Jack I might
well have been badly treated and dishonored. I believe some of the
other women held by them most certainly were. More than once he
interceded and kept his men from harming me when they might have….”
Her voice trembled in fear at the memory, or was it desire? As the
image of Captain Jack, deliciously making love to her, made her
long to be in his arms once more. I endured captivity only to have
the worst assumed regarding my honor. When it becomes known that I
was held prisoner for weeks by pirates, people will naturally
assume the worst, but they will be right to do so. Was I not, in
fact, dishonored by that very same?

“
Ah yes, the infamous Captain Jack. Pardon
my saying this, but you my dear were fortunate to be captured by
that man. He is no common thief or murderer like the others. I fear
your fate might have been far worse otherwise.” Dewitt took a sip
of his wine, and smiling to himself, grunted with
satisfaction.

“
You know of him?” asked
Gwendolyn.

He shrugged in response, saying, “Who is not
known by most everyone in our small community of islands. The
pirates leave us alone generally, but once ships embark laden with
goods for the Colonies or Europe, they become fair game. However,
after our confrontation yesterday, they might feel the need to
retaliate. You needn’t be concerned, I have many armed men in my
employ, and I believe the miscreants are not so foolhardy. Your
ship, what was she and where bound?”

“
Our vessel was the brigantine Charlotte,
bound for the Chesapeake and the James River in the Virginia Colony
where I’ve relatives. I greatly fear they’ll think me gone from
this world. If there is a way to obtain passage to those shores, I
would be grateful. I’ve nothing now, but when safely arrived at my
destination, can send you payment.”

Dewitt waved away the mention of payment for
anything he might do for the young woman. “No no, say nothing of
that. I am glad to be of some assistance to you. Ships come often
to these islands to take on cargo of molasses and rum for the
colonies. It should not be long before we can get you aboard one of
those, but Virginia.... I cannot be sure when.”

Thoughts of the handsome Captain with
flashing dark eyes made Gwendolyn almost regret her rescue. I knew
there was something different about him. She sighed. At heart, he’s
not a bloodthirsty scoundrel. There is goodness in him. If I had
found the strength to resist his kisses, he would never have forced
himself upon me. Wonderful warmth filled her at the thought of his
caresses. She lifted her fan, fluttering it rapidly to try to
relieve the heat within, cursing her own body for betraying
her.

“
Allow me to intrude on your thoughts Miss
Butterfield. It appears you are distressed.”

She did not have an opportunity to answer, as
without warning through the windows came a brilliant bolt of
lightning, splitting the darkness, followed closely by a tremendous
clap of thunder. Immediately they both turned to see that it had
grown very dark out of doors.

“
These tropical latitudes can produce
storms in the mere blink of an eye. Before the sun set, one would
have given no thought to a storm arising,” said Peter Dewitt. He
sipped from his wine and sighed, gazing through the tall windows at
lightning flashes illuminating the roiling surf as it crashed onto
the beach.

In quick succession, more thunder rolled over
the sea and Gwendolyn visibly shuddered with each report.

“
Do not be afraid, Mademoiselle. “These
storms usually pass quickly.”

At that moment, a dull boom sounded a
different note from the direction of the sea. Peter Dewitt came
erect listening. He put down his wine and went to the long
windows.

“
Not thunder,” he announced, “But the
sound of a big gun. It was a cannon shot.”

Several further thudding booms sounded,
followed once more by a thunderclap. “Remain here Mademoiselle, and
linger as long as you like over your wine. If you will pardon me, I
must go and see what this is about.” Bowing, Dewitt darted from the
room.

What’s happening? Gwendolyn wondered. Sipping
the excellent vintage, she watched the storm release its fury on
the island. She heard shouts from outside but couldn’t make out
what was said. Gradually the voices receded and the gunfire seemed
to become more feint as well. She was put at ease by the warming
wine and relaxed in the growing quiet.

Without warning over the sea flashed a blaze
of lightning that briefly illuminated the island. Then overhead
there came a deafening peal of thunder. Startled, she straightened
quickly, dropping her glass. It crashed and tinkled, scattering
chards across the floor. The sound of doors crashing open and yells
came from within the house. Clutching her chair, she turned around
and Jack stood there before her, smiling at her, his coat dripping
water onto the floor.

“
Come with me, my dear. Do not be afraid.
I’ll let no harm come to you.”

With complete trust, Gwendolyn followed as he
took her arm and led her from the house. Thrilled at the thought of
this handsome dark man spiriting her away, her heart began to
pound. She marveled at how readily she was willing to go with him,
abandoning her safe haven and the prospect of returning to her
people in Virginia. He led her carefully down a steep path on the
cliff face in the darkness, rain soaking her shear evening dress.
Somehow, Jack knew where to step and guide her along. She made her
way with difficulty in delicate shoes, lifting her long gown. She
wondered how it was he so easily negotiated the treacherous path,
almost as though he’d been here before. More than once Jack reached
out to prevent her from falling. At the water’s edge, several of
his crewmen awaited them beside a boat drawn up on the beach.

From "Caribbean Fire", by Tori Baxter.

Vicky fished her cell phone from a pocket
when the ring tone startled her back to reality. She saw the call
was from her agent, Marsha Chandler. Flipping open the phone, she
answered with a cheerful, “Good morning Marsha”

“Vicky, how are you? We haven’t talked in way
too long.”

“I’m fine Marsha. How are you? Still after
that hot guy in legal?”

“He turned out to be not so hot,” sighed
Marsha. “I guess I’m just not meant for romance.”

“Same here,” she laughed.

“How’s ‘Caribbean Fire’ coming? Your
publisher is enthusiastic. She’s winding up a couple of projects
now and we were hoping to fit yours in right behind them.”

“The book is coming along nicely. No problem.
I’m on schedule. It’s been a while since we talked. I guess I
didn’t tell you about my car accident?”

“Car accident! Oh my God! Vick, Honey, are
you okay?”

“Sure Marsha. I’m fine. It happened about a
month ago. I pulled out of a parking lot, and whamo! Some poor
senior citizen strayed over the center line. The car was totaled,
but I’m okay.

“That’s good. Did you get a new car yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ve received a check from the
insurance company though. While this book’s coming along so easily
I want to concentrate on it. I’ve been looking around some, but I
can’t decide whether to get an economical car or an SUV for the ice
and snow they tell me I can expect up here during the winter."

“I can understand why four-wheel-drive would
come in handy up there,” said Marsha.

“My neighbors here are so nice. Someone is
always offering me a ride into town or anywhere I need to go. Jack
has told me I can borrow his truck if I need to.”

“Jack? You mean the guy who thought he owned
your house? He’s still there?” Marsha asked in amazement.

“I do need someone to take care of all those
apples, don’t I?” she said, laughing.

“Yeah, that’s true, and the fact that he’s
totally hot doesn’t affect your judgment? Is there something going
on that you’re not telling me Vick? Maybe you and Jack are more
than just friends?”

“Marsha.”

“Okay! I won’t pry. It’s none of my business,
but I’m looking forward to meeting this Jack. You’ve got me
intrigued.”

“Hey! Why not drive up here for a visit? I’d
really love to see you and I want you to see Nanna’s house. Get out
of the city and away from the heat, not that it hasn’t been
stifling up here, but I understand it’s really miserable down
there.”

“When I leave the building it’s like I’ve
been dropped into an oven. Thank God for air conditioning. I would
love to see Nanna’s old home. She was a sweetie. Poor thing, I know
you miss her. Thanks for the offer. I’ll try and do that
someday.”

“Why not come up for a weekend? It’s so not
the city here. Pippen’s Grove is a really small town and everyone
seems to know what’s going on with everyone else. Still, it’s nice
and quiet, a big change from what you’re used to. I think you’ll
find the pace here a little slower and relaxing. I like it here and
the people are really nice. ”

“I just might do that Vick. I’ll let you
know.” Marsha sighed, “Okay, back to work! When you figure out how
much longer it will be until you send us your manuscript, shoot me
an email so I’ll know what to tell the editor, okay?”

“Will do, Marsha,” she said, before hanging
up.

Rereading her last few paragraphs of
“Caribbean Fire”, she made a couple of changes. Leaning back she
let her mind wander for several minutes, then sat up straight and
once more, her fingers flew over the keyboard.