Lovestorm (11 page)

She did not deceive herself. If she were fortunate, she and Edward would live amiably together. They might even develop a fondness for each other over the years. He would protect her and provide for her the standard of living she was accustomed to; she would give him nominal obedience, respect, and the use of her body when he demanded it.

“Don't you see, Cain?” she whispered into the still summer afternoon. “I can't go with you.” It was madness to consider such a thing . . . utter madness.

 

At twilight, Betty came to Elizabeth's room with soup and a mug of apple cider. “I'm that glad t' see ye, m'lady. I was so afeared thet ye might . . . might dee.” She stumbled as she made a clumsy curtsy. “Cook killed a rooster special fer the broth and let me help make it.” She put the tray on the bedside table and popped her thumb in her mouth to suck off the spilled soup.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “I'm glad to see you too. Lady Baldwin said that you were sick.”

Betty cleared her throat loudly and stared at the floor. “It's nothin'.” She rubbed her hands on her apron. “Be ye be wantin' anythin' else, m'lady?” Spots of bright color rose on her cheeks as she backed toward the door. “Cook said I was t' come right back. She said she'd save some soup fer me, do I help her wi' the evenin' chores.”

“Do they treat you well here, girl?”

“Here?” Betty chewed at her lower lip and stared with calf eyes.

“Is Cook kind to you? Do they give you enough to eat and a safe place to sleep?”

The child nodded. “Oh, yes, m'lady. This is a fine house. I even gets meat on the Sabbath. Cook says I ain't stupid. She's teachin' me how t' make bread.” She glanced toward the door. “Kin I go?”

Elizabeth nodded, and Betty scurried from the room. Feeling foolish because of her earlier suspicions, Elizabeth turned to her supper and cautiously tasted the chicken soup. To her surprise, it was delicious, and she soon finished every drop. The cider was cool and refreshing.

Gradually, the evening shadows lengthened and gave way to night. Several hours passed, and then Betty appeared with a candle in one hand and a pewter goblet in the other. “Be ye be wantin' anythin' else before I go t' bed, m'lady?” she asked. “Cook said t' bring ye some herb tea, but I know ye favor the wine, so I brung it instead.”

“Good girl.” Elizabeth smiled her approval as she took the wine. “You were right. I'd much rather have this.”

Betty beamed. “Yes, m'lady. Have a good night's sleep.”

“The same to you.”

Betty bobbed a quick curtsy and was gone.

Elizabeth chuckled. If Lady Baldwin had planned to drug her, the child had outwitted her. She put the goblet on the table and went to the foot of her bed. With trembling hands, she opened a large chest and removed a pair of stockings, a linen shift, petticoats, and a blue camlet gown. Dressing as quickly as she could without a maid to help her, she brushed her hair and tied it back with a silk ribbon, then thrust her feet into sturdy leather shoes.

When she was ready, Elizabeth sat on the bed and waited until the normal household sounds below had ceased. The candle burned lower and lower, and as the pale lemon flame began to flicker before it went out, she noticed the forgotten wine goblet. She reached for the glass just as the room was swallowed in darkness.

Elizabeth sipped the last of the wine as moonlight spilled across the pine floor. She had been too frightened to think about what she was doing; she had deliberately taken one step at a time. Now there could be no more denial.

Her mouth was dry and her heart pounded as she tiptoed toward the bedroom door with her shoes in her hand. She was glad that the room was in shadow; it made it easier to walk away, to leave everything behind.

The hallway was quiet; the only sound was the purring of a cat sleeping on the top step. At the bottom of the stairs, two candles burned in a wrought-iron stand. Elizabeth took a tight grip on the walnut balustrade. She was so scared that her knees felt weak, and she paused to take a deep breath.

“Lady Elizabeth.”

She gasped in alarm as she saw Sir Thomas standing at the bottom of the steep stairs.

“You shouldn't be out of bed. You're much too ill,” he said, coming up the steps toward her.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No.” Suddenly, her legs went limp and she sank to a sitting position beside the cat. “I have to . . .” she began. Was she dreaming? “Cain,” she whispered thickly. “I have to meet—”

Sir Thomas caught her around the waist and lifted her up. “You're ill. You mustn't be out here.”

She struggled weakly. “No . . . no,” she protested. “I . . .”

Lady Baldwin appeared and took her by the arm. Together they half carried, half dragged her back into the room. “Poor child,” the older woman murmured. “The fever's come back.”

Elizabeth tried to explain, tried to tell them that she couldn't stay, that she had to go outside. Then the dream dissolved and sleep claimed her. It was a sleep so deep that she merely flinched when the muffled report of a musket shot echoed through the open window.

T
he musket ball missed Cain's head by the width of a spear blade and smashed into the trunk of the willow tree behind the Baldwin house. He whirled to face the half dozen Englishmen who ran across the grassy yard from the stable. Another musket roared from the left, and two more figures appeared beside the grapevine, moonlight gleaming off their round steel helmets.

Raising his bow, Cain plucked three bone-tipped arrows from his quiver. He dropped to one knee, pulled the bowstring to his ear, and let the first arrow fly. With an agonized cry, the closest soldier crumpled to his knees. The man behind him raised his musket, but the second arrow found his throat before he could fire.

Cain spun left and sent the third arrow into the exposed leg of a cuirass-clad Englishman. The man dropped his musket and fell to the grass, clutching the protruding feathered shaft. Another musket roared, but a shriek from one of the Englishmen in the first group gave evidence that his aim was poor.

“Swords, you fools! Surround him!” a gruff voice shouted. “James! Your pike!”

From the corner of his eye, Cain caught sight of more men coming from the road. He shot off two more arrows before the first man reached him. One bolt went wild in the darkness, but the other produced a satisfying groan.

Cursing, a burly Englishman slashed at Cain with his sword. Cain threw up the bow to protect himself, and the steel cut through the seasoned hickory like kindling. Another soldier hacked at Cain's thigh, but Cain twisted aside and wrenched the weapon from his hands and jabbed it into the burly man's knee.

“Aiiee!” Cain backed against the tree and cut a swath of steel around him as the Englishmen closed in. Sweat ran down his back, and his breath came in ragged gulps. “Is it a good night to die?” he taunted in English.

“Roy!” Two helmeted soldiers broke from the pack and advanced with drawn swords. The others drew back to safety beyond the reach of Cain's twisting blade.

Cain fixed his gaze on the tall bearded man shouting orders. That one, he reasoned, must be the leader.

“Lay down your weapon and surrender in the name of the King!” the tall man shouted.

Cain smiled. “Come and get it.”

“You speak English? Good. I'm Captain William Trent. Surrender, and we'll spare your life.” He drew closer, keeping his sword poised to strike. “Do you understand?”

“Ah,” Cain said softly. “You let me go free.”

“Yes.”

Cain chuckled. They did take him for a fool. “And tomorrow you make me king of the English.”

The captain frowned. “Who are you? What do you want here?”

“I am Shaakhan Kihittuun.”

“Are you a Rappahannock?”

“Enough talk,” Cain replied. “You have come to kill me without knowing my name. You do not need to know my tribe.”

“You are here for Lady Elizabeth Sommersett, aren't you? You may as well admit it. The girl told us you threatened to come here and carry her away.” The redbearded captain hawked and spat on the ground near Cain's feet. “You should have known we'd not allow that to happen. You'll not get your filthy hands on an Englishwoman again.”

Pain as sharp as a shark's tooth knifed through Cain, and he fought to keep his features expressionless. If Elizabeth had betrayed him to the soldiers, then she truly had no love for him. If she had not come to meet him, he would have understood, but this treachery was bitter. These English warriors sought his life. They had forced him to shed their blood, and they would show him no mercy. “I be not your enemy,” Cain answered, “but I give you warning. If this one dies, he does not die alone.”

“Drop the sword, or I'll order my men to shoot,” Trent said.

Cain stared at the captain's face for the space of a dozen heartbeats, then with a shrug, he cast aside the English sword. Before the bearded soldier could react, Cain feinted left, pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist, and lunged to the right.

Trent gasped as Cain dodged beneath his sword, grabbed his head, and yanked it backward. The Englishman froze as he felt the Indian's steel blade pressed against his throat.

“Move,” Cain threatened, “and your women will weep.” He glared at the surrounding men. “Back!” Knocking aside Trent's conical helmet, Cain wound his fingers in the man's curly hair. “We go,” he said to the captain. “That way, toward the forest.”

“Hold your fire,” Trent called. “Stand away.”

Step by step, Cain moved across the lawn, holding the captain as a shield. They were no more than a hundred yards from the edge of the forest when a soldier cursed and lunged at Cain with an iron-tipped pike.

For an instant, regret flashed across Cain's mind. As he stared into the hooded face of death, his first instinct was to fulfill his promise and cut the English leader's throat. Instead, he shoved the man away and hurled his knife at the charging pikeman.

The blade plowed a bloody furrow across his assailant's cheek and spoiled his aim. It did not slow the others. Yelling triumphantly, the English soldiers came at him from all sides, and he went down under their numbers, battered and slashed into insensibility.

Sometime later—how much time had passed he had no way of knowing—he became aware of intense pain. The throbbing which seemed to consume every inch of his body drove him from the twilight of semiconsciousness into total comprehension.

He tried to open his eyes, but they were swollen shut. From the coolness of the air on his bare skin, he perceived that it was still night, and by the rhythmic sway of his body, he decided he was being carried over rough ground. Attempts to move his hands and feet were futile; they were too numb for him to know if they worked or not.

I'm trussed like a slaughtered doe, he thought. And the feast I'm being delivered to is not one I'd willingly attend. The next image that rose in his muddled brain was Elizabeth's face. Had she betrayed him to these men? The aching of his flesh was agony, but the idea that the woman he loved beyond all else desired his death was worse. He shut his mind against the English captain's words, but they returned again and again to haunt him.
The girl told us
. . .
The girl told us
. . .

Cain tried to shake away the memory, and the Englishman's voice sounded harsh in his ears.

“Take him to the river's edge and kill him.”

“Ye want us to shoot him?”

“No. No shots. Hang him.”

Cain ground his teeth together as waves of fury assailed him. A man should not die like a snared rabbit in a trap.

Another spoke. The words were strangely accented and hard for Cain to understand. “I dinna ken your reasonin', captain. The council will nay be pleased. We should be tryin' the savage in full view o' the town, not sneakin' him off in the night. ‘Tis nay like that skirmish can be kept secret—nay wi' Tom Potter and Robert Allen layin' dead from his heathen arrows.”

“I don't make orders, Angus; I only carry them out. See him hanged and buried before the sun comes up over the river.”

“Ay, sir, but the trouble be on your own head, nay mine, nor James's, nor Roy's.”

Cain heard one man's footsteps fade away. The others continued on, still carrying him. He surmised that his wrists and ankles were fastened to a pole, but he couldn't get his eyelids apart far enough to see.

After traveling for some time through the forest, his captors came to a halt, and Cain was dropped roughly onto the ground. The shock stunned him momentarily, and he gasped for breath.

“He ain't dead yet, Angus. I tole you that.”

“I never thought the mon was. Savage he may be, but that one's a bonnie fighter. ‘Twill take more than that to send him to hell.”

A third man spoke up. “Seems a waste t' me, killin' him.”

“Ye heard the captain.”

“Aye. Orders are orders, Roy.”

“But a waste jest the same. Word is that the captain of the
Lady Jane
was hunting fer a savage t' take back wi' him. He set a bag o' silver on the table at Jenkins's ordinary. A bounty, he called it, on a red skin. Thing was, he wanted the animal t' be alive.”

“Nay, Roy, ye'll see the lot o' us in stocks or worse. The captain bid us put him in the ground, and I fer one intend t' do as I was told.”

“Silver, man. Is yer Scottish pate so thick ye cannot think what we could do wi' that much money? Even split three ways 'tis more than I'd see in two years of carryin' a pike. We've got to look out fer ourselves, Angus. Ye think them high-nosed burgesses care a ha'penny fer us?”

“He's tied tighter 'n a Christmas puddin'. All we got to do is carry him t' the
Lady Jane.″

“And if we're caught?”

“We won't get caught. The ship sails in a week.”

Angus cleared his throat. “James?”

“I'm wi' Roy. Alice's father has forbid me t' set foot in his house. If I'm t' wed her before he signs a marriage contract wi' another, I have t' come up wi' hard coin.”

A heavy foot drove into Cain's side, and he groaned.

“He cut my face, he did,” James continued. “I'd rather see him hang than any o' ye, but if his hide will get me Alice Tucker as a wife, I'm game.”

“Agreed then,” Roy said. “We take him t' the captain.”

“Aye,” Angus said reluctantly. “And I hope we dinna all live t' regret it.”

 

 

 

Lady Elizabeth Sommersett stood at the rail of the ship and stared at the tree-lined shore of Virginia until it vanished on the horizon. The late morning sun was hot on her face, but the air was cooler on the water than it had been in Jamestown. The stiff breeze that filled the sails and sent the merchant vessel skimming along the surface of the sea smelled strongly of pine trees. Elizabeth wondered how long it would be before the scent of pine ceased to remind her of Cain.

The sickness that had gripped her for so many days and nights had passed, leaving her weary but clear of mind. Her appetite was returning little by little, and she felt almost as strong as she had when Cain had escorted her to Jamestown.

Lady Baldwin had been concerned that Elizabeth might not be ready to endure the hardships of an ocean voyage, but Elizabeth had insisted that she was fit.

“If I don't sail with Captain Douglas, it may be months before I can find another passage. I must return home to England as soon as possible.”

Traveling with Elizabeth and Betty was a recent widow, Mildred Wright, and her four-year-old son Robin. The prospect of sharing a cramped cabin with Mistress Wright and her whining child for six weeks or more was not a pleasant one, but Elizabeth knew all too well the discomforts of crossing the Atlantic. Already, Mistress Wright was complaining of seasickness, and Betty was below scrubbing the cabin floor with vinegar to kill the stench of former passengers.

If I had my way, she thought, I'd spend the entire trip on deck. Coming from England, the
Speedwell
had carried horses, cows, and an assortment of other livestock. The cargo this time was tobacco, lumber, and animal skins. She hoped that the hold would be neither as noisy nor as smelly as it had been on the
Speedwell.

She shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed out over the blue-green water. She would not admit, even to herself, that she was looking for dolphins or for some dot on the waves that might be a dugout.

Her memories of Jamestown were confused, as intangible as morning fog. Against her better reason, she clung to the notion that Cain had come to her bedchamber one night and that it had been raining. She distinctly remembered the rolling crash of thunder and a puddle of rainwater on the wide plank floor.

“He did come, and he begged me to go away with him,” she murmured.

Just beyond the wake of the ship, seagulls wheeled and screeched, diving into the foam for tiny fish. Their raucous cries filled Elizabeth's ears and drowned out her whisper. Above her, sails snapped in the wind; the deck beneath her feet sighed and moaned like a living creature. The acrid scent of tar-soaked lines and spars mingled with the sharp bite of gunpowder and salt water.

Elizabeth broke a biscuit into pieces and tossed it to the seagulls. Was I truly so far gone with fever that I thought to go with him? She sighed and blinked back the moisture that clouded her eyes. For three nights she had gone to the willow behind the house and waited until the first coral shades of dawn had tinted the eastern sky.

One gull seized a bit of the bread, but the rest was lost in the tumbling waves. Elizabeth rubbed her hands together to rid them of the crumbs.

Dreams had plagued her illness, some so vivid that she ceased to differentiate between what was real and what was imagined. At one time, she had conceived the idea that someone was trying to poison her. Lady Baldwin told her that they had summoned the physician in the middle of the night to calm her hysterical outburst.

“Fever heats the brain, child,” the older woman had said. “You were near death. We cannot blame you for the madness of fever.”

Returning to England and to her betrothed was the only sensible thing to do. Elizabeth knew it, and she knew that if Cain had come for her and they had run off into the wilderness together, she would have regretted it for the rest of her life.

“But I waited for you anyway,” she said softly. “I wanted-”

“M'lady,” Betty interrupted. “I did as ye bid me. I scrubbed ever' inch o' that nasty little cabin wi' vinegar, but Mistress Wright is upchuckin' all over the floor again.” The girl grimaced. “Her youngun is howlin' his head off, and she says she's gonna dee.”