Paxton and the Gypsy Blade (38 page)

For Sir Theodotus, once again, the sky was clear, the sun bright. A light breeze, all that remained of the Atlantic trades after their passage over the island, perfumed the air as he stood on the front verandah and watched the harbor master's carriage disappear down the drive. The clock in the foyer struck noon as he walked back inside, removed his frock coat, and handed it to Juan. “The twins?” he asked, not having seen them all morning.

“Yes, suh. In the parlor, suh, playing with Ariadna.”

“Adriana,” Sir Theodotus corrected automatically.

“Yes, suh. Ariadna.”

The governor sighed and, once again, gave up. “Very well, Juan. We'll want something to eat shortly, if you please. I'll be with the boys.”

Their laughter met him in the hall, and as he stood in the doorway and watched them, Sir Theodotus wondered that he should ever have thought the parlor or the mansion itself a drab and dreary place. All it had ever lacked was the laughter of children. And also, he had been forced to admit as the days had passed, the gentle magic of Adriana.

The affection that Joseph and Jason felt for Adriana had been instantaneous. In her they found the tenderness, the laughter, the warm caring touch all children need, especially those whose mothers are dead. That Adriana had fallen in love with the twins at the same time had been obvious. She ate with them, played with them, and saw them to bath and bed. She regaled them with stories of life among the Gypsies. She spoke of unicorns and fauns and wove tales of magic out of the world's ordinary fabric. By the end of her week in the governor's mansion, she was their friend, confidante, and surrogate mother, and Sir Theodotus couldn't have been more pleased.

Or touched, he thought, feeling his throat tighten. She was wearing a long lace-trimmed white gown that he'd borrowed from Charlie Waite's wife. Jenny had worn such a gown once, and though Adriana bore absolutely no physical resemblance to Jenny, he imagined for a fleeting moment that she was his daughter.

Such nonsense! You're a fool. An old fool, sir!
Jenny had been fair; Adriana was dark. Jenny's hair had been like spun gold; Adriana's was the deep brownish-red of ripe chestnuts. Jenny had been an aristocrat, high-born, refined, cultured; Adriana was a Gypsy, a commoner with no education.

And yet …
Adriana was the same age Jenny would have been, had she lived. She was infected with that same spark of life that kindled warmth and affection. Her laugh was as light and as carefree as Jenny's, her hands as tender, her eyes as bright, her demeanor as charming.
I should have gone to Jenny. Just once to have seen her playing with them like this, loving them …

“And that, my little friends, is the story of the first rabbit, and how he lost his long and beautiful tail.”

“Aw, you made that up.”

“Made it
up
? Why, shame on you, Jason Paxton! Whatever—” She stopped in mid-sentence and beamed at Sir Theodotus. “Well, there's your grandpa come for lunch. I suggest that you ask
him.
”

“Grandpa!” Joseph yelled.

“She says the rabbit gave his tail to the squirrel so he could keep his nose warm,” Joseph complained.

“It's true enough,” Sir Theodotus said, nodding sagely.

“Awwww …”

“I'm hungry,” Joseph interjected, not caring how the rabbit lost his tail.

“Then run along and wash up,” Adriana said, rising from the floor and smoothing her skirts. “It's time for lunch, and afterward a nap.”

“Can we play more then?” Jason asked.

“And will you tell us more stories?” Joseph chimed in. “I want the one about the magic bear.”

“Yes to both of you, but first lunch and naps,” Adriana said with a laugh. Then, clapping her hands and making a comical buzzing sound, she chased them out of the room.

“So
that's
how the rabbit lost his tail.” Sir Theodotus chuckled, sinking into an armchair. “They love you, you know.”

“And I love them,” Adriana replied. “They're quite a pair. Their mother would have been proud of them.”

“Damn it!” Sir Theodotus snapped as he slammed his fist onto the arm of the chair. “Why do you persist in reminding me of Jenny? No, never mind. Don't tell me. I know exactly what you're about, witch.”

“I'm a Gypsy, sir, not a witch.”

“Gypsy, witch, what's the difference?” he grumbled. “You're trying to complete the ruination of my day by sneaking the subject around to that bloody Paxton.”

Adriana smiled sweetly. “You mentioned his name, not I.”

“Well, your tactics won't work. I'll never change my mind about him. Anyway, he's dead, so precious little it would do.”

Adriana's face fell. Sir Theodotus would have taken back his harsh words if he hadn't become so exasperated by her constant references to Paxton. First Jenny and then her. Was he doomed to be plagued by Paxton alive
and
dead?

“Thomas may be dead,” Adriana said, “but he loved his children and wanted only what was best for them.”

“And you think I don't?” Sir Theodotus asked. “Why do you think I had them brought here?”

“I don't doubt your love for them,” Adriana answered. “That's written plainly on your face. But if you'd truly been concerned with what was best for them, you'd have gone to them instead of taking them from their father.”

“
He
by God took my—”

“You saved my life, Sir Theodotus, and I'm more grateful than I know how to say, but the truth's the truth. You brought them here because you wanted to hurt and punish Thomas.” Her voice dropped, became softer and sadder. “If you'd seen his pain as I did, you'd know how well you succeeded.”

Sir Theodotus took a deep breath and wished the conversation had never begun. “All right, all right,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I'll concede the point. I'm an ogre and a villain.”

“I didn't say—”

“You might just as well have. Good Lord Almighty, girl! Have you no concern for another's sensibilities, no rein on your tongue? Have you never wished for revenge? What about Bliss? He took your brother's life, you say, and yet you never once dreamed of repaying him in kind?”

“I …” The truth had been fine when Sir Theodotus's motives were being discussed, but she had been less than honest regarding herself. She had never let one word of her vow to kill Bliss slip. Not once had she put herself in Sir Theodotus's place. “I tried to kill him once in London, and set out for here to try again,” she admitted in a voice that was barely audible. “I didn't tell you because … I was afraid you'd forbid me to care for the boys if you knew I'd done … something like that.”

Sir Theodotus sat silently for a long moment. At last he rose and crossed to her side. “And so I might well have,” he said, patting her shoulder. “But you didn't and I didn't, and I have no regrets. As for Paxton, though …” His jaw set in a firm line and his voice hardened. “As I said, he's dead and that's that. The boys are here, and here they'll stay, no matter what happens.”

“And Bliss?” Adriana asked, wisely changing the subject.

“Bliss. Ah, yes, Bliss. Another matter entirely, eh?” He paced the floor, stopped at a window overlooking Bliss's house. “I'd wager he knows you're here—impossible to keep that sort of thing a secret in a place the size of San Sebastian, after all. The trick is …” He scratched his head, wondering how much to tell Adriana, and decided he could trust her with everything. “I received a rather enigmatic note from him yesterday that suggested we meet in the near future to discuss a venture that might prove profitable to me.”

“He wants you to join him?” Adriana asked.

“It sounds like it, but I don't know. I'm letting him cool his heels until tomorrow, at which time I shall plead a continued indisposition and suggest that we find a moment to slip away for a word or two at the ball next Tuesday.”

“Ball?”

“The annual governor's masked ball that ushers in the Christmas season. An island tradition, I'm told.” Pleased, he beamed at Adriana. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think that if I were he, I'd be far away by next Tuesday. I wouldn't trust you for—”

“But it isn't a matter of trust, my dear; rather, of expectations. He'll expect me to be as greedy and unscrupulous as he is. He'll be in for a bit of a surprise instead, I think. All the pertinent documents will be prepared by Tuesday night, and within an hour of our talk, he and LeBusque and two or three others will embark on a merchant vessel bound for London, where I expect they'll stand trial. Of course,” he added dryly, “that will mean you won't be able to—”

“I know,” Adriana interrupted. “I do hope, however, that I'll be permitted to see him before he leaves.” A small smile played across her face and her voice took on a dreamlike quality. “To see the look on his face when he learns that I brought him to his downfall.”

Sunlight melted through the emerald canopy of the forest and warmed the world around Adriana as she walked the corridor of trees and vines, past gay splashes of color that were the flowers of a dozen strange and wondrously beautiful species previously unknown to her. Petals red as rubies. Petals orange as fire. Bright yellows, whispering lavenders, flamboyant magentas. And white! Dazzling, pristine white as pure as a virgin's veil; muted and creamy white flecked with the delicate blues and browns and pinks of the hidden eggs of songbirds.

The path curved through the forest and emerged, some two hundred yards behind and above the mansion, in a tiny, secluded, but well-tended glade in which the previous governor had built a gazebo. In need of solitude, Adriana climbed the wooden steps, sat in the shade of the thatched roof, and tried to clear her mind. The wood against her back was warm, the air balmy. A light breeze sifted through the surrounding foliage and played with her hair. Butterflies—bright, living blossoms against the green of the forest—floated through the sun-drenched glade. Somewhere out of sight, a gold-tailed grackle squawked.

Over a week had passed since her dreams had told her Tom was alive, but he had yet to appear. She had no doubt that he would, eventually. The question was, when? How many days, each a lifetime, did she have to wait? And what might happen before he did arrive? A thousand possibilities, most of them admittedly remote but nonetheless alarming enough, flitted through her mind. If only it were all over! Not even Bliss's demise mattered. All she wanted was to be somewhere safe with Tom and his sons, whom she had come to love.

“Adriana.”

She closed her eyes and recalled the soft sweetness of his voice in her ear.

“
Adriana!
”

Yes, my Thomas. I am here and waiting for you. I love …

“Over here, damn it!”

Oh, dear God!
Adriana's heart leaped as she looked about wildly and spotted a hand beckoning from the edge of the glade. “Tom?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

“Yes. Careful! Can anyone see you?”

She knew no one had followed her, and a quick check proved that the path was still empty. She ran down the steps, across the manicured grass, and into the opening Tom made in the shrubs. “Thank God you're here,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. “When they shot at you and I saw the empty boat, I thought … I thought …”

Tom cradled her in his arms, savoring the sensation of holding her once again. Suddenly, he pushed her to arm's length. “The boys,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I've seen them. Are they all right?”

“They miss you, but otherwise they're perfect.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “God, I missed you. I was so frightened. How did you get here? And when? Where have you been? How long—”

“Whoa!” Tom laughed. He tilted her head back, inspected her as if seeing her for the first time. “You're beautiful,” he finally said. “I missed you, too. Come. There's a better place.”

Adriana followed him around giant
poro
trees, over exposed beds of sharp lava, through mazes of thick dangling vines. Tom looked lean and dangerous. Wherever he'd been, whatever he'd been doing, he'd been toughened during the weeks they'd been separated. His belt bristled with a brace of pistols, a dirk, two heavy knives, and his ever-present rapier. His rust-colored breeches and white linen shirt were torn and frayed and faded, and hung loose on him. His hair was bleached and tangled, his skin tanned to a deep, deep bronze.

“Maurice, Topaz, and Sanchez—” he began.

“Sanchez?” Adriana asked, almost tripping over a vine. “
Onofre
Sanchez?”

“It's a long story,” Tom said, leading her into a tiny clearing. “Anyway, we found this hiding place last Tuesday. We can see the mansion and grounds, but no one there can see us.”

A better spot would have been hard to find. Evidently uprooted by a storm, an ancient star-apple tree had fallen toward the governor's mansion. By walking along the trunk, one could sit completely unobserved behind a thick veil of vines and watch, less than a hundred fifty yards away, the north and west sides of the mansion. At the base of the tree, a camp had been set up behind the ten-foot-high wall of dirt-packed roots. Tom shook out a blanket and spread it on the ground for Adriana. “The others left for town just about the time I saw you start up the path. Wait here a minute.” He disappeared around the wall of roots and returned a moment later. “All clear as far as I can tell. Well, what happened? What are you doing at Vincent's place?”

Adriana talked while Tom paced and, occasionally, interrupted with a question. “You're sure he thinks I'm dead?” he asked when she finished. “Sure he's not laying a trap for me?”

“Dead and gone,” Adriana assured him. “The plot's his main concern right now. The only time he talks about you is when I mention your name. Or say something about Jenny. I think …”