Romancing the Rogue (160 page)

Just as John and Gabriel approached the little series of three steps that led to the back entrance of the big house, Carolina came tearing out the door and ran down the stairs, shrieking Gabriel's name and the word help as two torrents of tears streamed down her bright red face.

She must not have seen them standing next to the stairs, because she didn't stop, she only swiped at the tears on her cheeks and ran toward the indigo fields where he and Gabriel had been working earlier.

“I wonder what's happened to her,” John said.

Gabriel shrugged his response, but didn't look too concerned by Carolina's theatrics.

Just then, the unmistakable sound of leather slapping skin rang through the air.

“I'll go after Carolina,” John said automatically, as his friend stumbled up the stairs. “Wait, Carolina,” he called as he chased after her.

She didn't slow.

He sped up his pace. She didn't have that much of a lead on him, besides she was wearing slippers and a skirt!

He continued to run after her and grimaced every time she stumbled or tripped. But she kept running and he stayed right behind her. “Carolina, stop.”

She didn't.

She was within arm's reach now, and he reached for her, grabbing a fistful of fabric and bringing her to the ground with a strangled whimper. “Let me go. I must find Gabriel,” she cried, trying to break free of his hold.

“He already knows.”

“Are you sure?” she choked between sobs as she took to her feet and wiped her eyes.

John nodded. His mother had been prone to vapors—leaving him with just enough knowledge to comprehend that when these moods hit, it was best to stand there quietly and not say anything, lest you upset them further.

“Stop staring at me!”

Or perhaps he was wrong. “I'm not staring,” he said slowly.

She sniffled and used the heel of her hand to dry under her red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, you are. Now go away.”

“I came—”

“To tell me Gabriel knows...”

“No,” he said gently, stepping closer to her. “I came because I thought you might like some company.”

“For once, John, I don't want your company.”

He was taken aback. The past few weeks, he'd tried everything he could to avoid her company, and now she was telling him she didn't want his? “Then what do you want?”

“To go far, far away,” she said with a sob.

He started. Her broken tone would suggest she wasn't jesting. “Carolina, what's happened?”

Sobs wracked her body again, and she crumpled to the ground before him.

He sank down next to her. “Shh,” he crooned in her ear, taking a seat on the grass as close to her as he could. “It'll all work out.”

“No, it won't,” she said between sobs.

On impulse, John wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap, then bent his head and pressed his cheek atop the crown of her head. Her soft, curly brown hair felt good against his skin. He closed his eyes. He was here because she could use a friend, nothing more, he reminded himself as he began to rock her from side to side.

Carolina leaned closer to him, pressing her face against his chest. “I hate her,” she whispered.

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Well, that wasn't an unexpected discovery. There were very few people he'd ever met that he wasn't particularly fond of, and Mrs. Ellis was certainly one of them. “Surely, you don't hate her,” he said softly. “You might not like her, but you don't hate her.”

“Yes, I do,” Carolina insisted. “She's so cruel.”

“Is this because she's forcing you to accept Charlie?” He didn't know why those were the first words out of his mouth, and he hoped she wouldn't question him further. Her possible impending marriage to a simpleton or the tender moment they shared now changed nothing between them, and he'd do well not to lead her to believe his feelings for her were anything other than that of a friend.

“No. It has nothing to do with that. It's something else.”

He rubbed long strokes up and down her back with his open palm. “What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” she said on a sob. “It's Bethel.”

John nodded. He'd noticed the closeness between the two but had never thought too much about it. He, too, hadn't been very close to his own parents; but instead of being close to a servant, he'd sought his brother's favor. “What's wrong with Bethel?”

“She's getting the strap, and it's my fault,” she said in a voice that was nearly inaudible.

A knot formed in his stomach. That explained the noise he'd heard earlier. “I'm sorry,” he whispered around the lump of emotion that had taken root in his throat.

“It's not your fault; it's mine,” she said.

John stilled and tightened his hold, hoping she'd find the comfort she needed. Then before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “It'll be all right, Carolina. Gabriel went in there after you left. He'll stop her,” he whispered against her hair.

Carolina sniffled. “No, it won't stop. He might stop her now, but she'll just do it again when he's not close to the house.”

John shut his eyes and rocked her sobbing form. “Is there anything that can be done?”

“No,” she said so softly he might not have heard her, had his head not been so close to hers. “Mother and Father refuse to grant her freedom because she does so much around the house. She's nothing but a machine that breathes to them.”

John's heart clenched, for as willful and spirited as Carolina seemed, she had a good heart. First, it had showed with how she'd treated Charlie, and now with Bethel.

“Was it always like this?” he asked before he could think better of it. In just his short amount of time here, he'd learned many things had changed following Mr. Ellis' return from war—but nobody dared speak of it.

“With Bethel, yes.” She swallowed convulsively. “Mother resents her.”

“Because you're closer to her?”

Carolina nodded against his chest. “Her skin might be a few shades darker than mine, but in my heart, she's my mother. That's why she's doing this today,” Carolina whispered. “She knows it hurts me more than it does Bethel.”

“I'm sorry,” he said for lack of anything else to say. “I don't know what I can do to help make it right, but I will always be here for you.” He clamped his mouth shut. That was a promise he had no business making to her. He couldn't always be there for her. Their lives were far too different.

“Thank you,” she said; her face pressing against his dingy shirt muffled her words a bit.

John continued to hold and rock her. He couldn't do anymore than that. He'd never experienced anything like she was experiencing right now. All of the servants he'd ever known were given wages for their work and were free to leave if they so desired. Bethel wasn't. She had to stay, no matter what she was asked to do or the punishment she'd incur for not. However, as much as he wanted to help, he just couldn't.

Time dissolved in that hot South Carolina field, and finally Carolina's sobs and sniffles subsided. He turned his head to the side to peek down at her and felt a bittersweet smile tug his lips when he realized she'd fallen asleep.

Nobody who might be around to see them was the kind who'd say anything, so he saw no reason to wake her up. Instead, he continued to hold her, loving the way she felt in his arms. He'd never fully understood slavery until he'd come to the plantation. Of course, while in Charleston, he'd actually met a few freedmen, such as Silas, who were working for their employers and collecting a wage, but that was rare. He'd also encountered a few field hands at neighboring plantations who seemed to like working for their “massas”.

The same could not be said for those who worked these indigo fields. Gabriel's insistence to work alongside them—which he learned was actually more common on plantations that had too few hands than he originally thought—had raised the morale and smoothed things over a little. But there was still a lot of resentment among the field hands toward Mrs. Ellis. Gabriel had mentioned that prior to his father's accident, they'd all been treated very well, and he was surprised there hadn't been a slave rebellion when Mrs. Ellis took over. Perhaps that was because they all seemed to love Carolina, and she them.

“John?”

John jerked at Gabriel's voice. “Carolina,” he whispered, gently brushing her cheek with his lips. “It's time to wake up.” When she didn't immediately wake, he gave her a little shake.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked from Gabriel to John, her tearstained cheeks turning red.

“I think Bethel would like to see you.” Gabriel's voice sounded as though it was full of gravel.

John helped Carolina off his lap and then gained his feet. “Don't,” he warned Gabriel, when Carolina had run far enough to be out of hearing distance.

Gabriel threw his hands into the air in a show of mock innocence. “I didn't say anything.”

“No,” John allowed, dusting off his backside. “But you were about to.”

“About to what?”

“Demand I marry her.”

Gabriel lifted his brow. “Why would I do that?”

Scowling, John folded his arms. “We were doing nothing wrong. I was just trying to console her.”

“Why do you fight it so?”

“Fight what?” John burst out.

“Your obvious attraction to my sister.”

John blew out a breath. He couldn't deny it. He was becoming more attracted to her with each passing day. But he still couldn't marry her. “I can't marry her.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes up toward the sky and twisted his lips. “I know she's annoying with her incessant chatter and never-ending theatrics; and I'll even grant you she has the ability to drive a man mad with her tendency to appear at the most inconvenient time possible. But she doesn't do it with the intention of being an annoyance, it's just who she is.”

“I know that.” And dash it all, it was
those
very things about her that entranced him more than anything else. He might have found it awkward, at first, that she kept bringing him water, but he'd loved standing there talking with her as he drank it, just like all the other times they'd talked. He enjoyed her being her, but her being her did not bode well for the wife of a vicar.

“Then what keeps you from marrying her?”

John shoved his right hand into his pocket and idly turned his pocket watch over in his hand. “I just can't.”

“Can't or won't?”

“Can't.”

“I don't believe you.”

John scowled. “You can believe whatever you want, but that's the truth. I'm financially not in a position to take her as my wife.”

Grimacing, Gabriel readjusted his stance. “John, listen to yourself. You told me only days ago that the reason you couldn't marry her was because she wasn't meek and mild like all the proper ladies of England, and now it's because you don't have the funds.” He lifted a single hand into the air to stop John's rebuttal. “Frankly, I don't care which it is. Both of them are excuses, and they're both weak. If Lina only cared about money and living the carefree life of a wealthy landowner’s wife who only had to worry about hosting parties and commanding her household about, she'd have accepted Charlie by now. He might not be the most appealing gentleman, but he has enough wealth to command the respect due him.

“Having grown up with her, I know better than anyone how uncomfortable it is to claim a relation to the girl who goes around as if the world is her stage and she is the lead actress in a melodrama. But you've already acknowledged that you understand that's just who she is. What
I
don't understand is why you'd care so much what others think of her to throw away your own happiness.”

“It's not for me I fear public ridicule. It's for her,” he said defensively. “I love her enough not to care what others say about her, but how will she feel when she's mocked for her vibrant personality or is whispered and laughed about behind fans?”

Gabriel looked him right in the eyes and asked, “Do you think she's the kind who'd care?”

Carolina pulled the crisp sheet and soft blanket up to her chin and closed her tired eyes. So much had happened today, and all she wanted now was to close her eyes and fall asleep.

John's handsome face with his high cheekbones, chiseled jaw, clear blue eyes and crooked smile formed in her mind. A poor transient, or not, he was still attractive, which was only compounded by his kind personality. He might seem a little brash at times, but that wasn't who he truly was. Today, she saw him as she knew he'd be: a sweet and compassionate man she'd only been able to catch quick glimpses of when he'd been trying to put her off, a task at which he still seemed most persistent.

Not that it mattered overmuch tonight. There was always tomorrow.

She jolted. It
did
matter. Her mother had been so furious with her for what had happened today, she had said they'd both be going to the Fields’ tomorrow in order for Carolina to accept Charlie's suit. That meant if she didn't get John to lay aside his pride tomorrow morning, she'd officially be engaged to Charlie before the sun set; and while she'd only be engaged and not actually married, it would take nothing short of a Divine Intervention to free her from an unwanted marriage at that point.

The thought gave her a colossal surge of energy; she leapt from her bed and began walking the length of the large plush rug in the middle of her room. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, her mind raced. What could she do now? She would literally only have hours before Mother would insist it was time to pay a call on the Fields to make their engagement official.

A sound outside caught her attention, but she ignored it and continued to pace. She'd taken John water, brought him a picnic—which he didn't even eat, spoke candidly to him, and nothing seemed to have caught his notice. What a lot of good Bethel, Gabriel and Marjorie had been. Not one of them had offered her a solution that seemed to make him take anymore notice of her than he had before.

Whatever she did tomorrow would have to be revolutionary, something so big and important that he wouldn't have a choice but to acknowledge his interest in her; but what? She had no more ideas on how to tempt and sway him than she had when she first started. Something hit her window, startling her. She scowled. There must be a storm nearing to cause so many acorns to be hitting her window.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and resumed thinking, her fingers idly twirling the purple silk of her nightgown. What hadn't she tried yet? She sighed. Nothing. She'd tried everything. Well, maybe not everything, she amended with a blush. But there were some things even she wouldn't do.

Carolina fell back against her mattress, tears stinging her eyes. Was that it, then? She could either seduce him, offering him her virtue in hopes that he'd be the gentleman he'd claimed to be, or be pressured to accept a marriage to Charlie?

She released a weak, wavering breath. Why was it in Charleston, the gentlemen flocked around her like mosquitos to rice fields, but John seemed completely unaffected by her? What was the differ—

A loud, sharp crack came from the side of her room, scaring the wits out of her and extinguishing her thoughts. Slowly, she turned toward the window to see what had made the sound and frowned. The tree closest to her didn't appear to be swaying with the wind. How odd.

Just then, something else hit her window; then again; and again; almost like it was raining small stones. Somebody clearly wanted her attention; but who, and why? Had one of the hands been injured today and in need of her salve? Her blood turned to ice at the thought, and she shoved the window up as fast as she could. “Who's there?”

“Shh,” was the only response.

Carolina scanned the moonlit ground outside her window. “Who's there?” she asked again, whispering this time.

“Me.”

Carolina's breath caught. “John?”

“The very one,” John said, stepping out into the moonlight from a little grove of bushes.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“Talk?”

A series of soft thuds sounded, presumably created by the rocks he'd been holding hitting the ground. “And possibly something else.”

Carolina's chest tightened painfully. “Does this something involve a bed?”

“Gads, Carolina,” he burst out in a harsh whisper. “Must you always be so forward?”

Stung by his harsh words which only compounded the hurt she'd already felt from his not-so-subtle insinuation, Carolina gripped the edge of the window pane and brought it down decisively.

Immediately, rocks or acorns, or whatever it was he was throwing, started pelting her window again. Thank goodness her room was the only one on this side of the house and her mother was a sound sleeper, or they might have a visitor.

A slow smile spread across her lips. He was mighty determined to talk to her. Slowly, she eased the window back open.

“Did that make you feel better?” John asked from below.

“Perhaps a little.”

John shook his head and took a step closer to the window. “All right, just jump whenever you're ready.”

“Jump?”

“Yes, jump,” he confirmed. “I originally thought I'd scale the wall and convince you to leave with me in a dignified manner, but then I realized you'd probably find jumping all the more romantic.”

“And why would I be jumping?” She cringed at her tone. It was that same sarcastic, condescending tone Mother used when speaking to anyone she felt inferior.

“So you can ride off with your prince
—
or should I say, me
—
into the moonlight.”

“Wh-what?”

John ran his hand through his hair. “You were right, Carolina. Must I say more?”

“Yes. I think you must.”

“Of course you'd think so,” he muttered. He blew out a deep breath. “Carolina, I want to marry you.”

“You do?”

“Didn't my eyes tell you that already?” he teased.

“Well, yes, but your mouth has refused to acknowledge it. Usually, it settles for an unflattering statement—”

“Do you plan to recount all of my faults, or do you want to get down here so we can leave for town before anyone catches us?”

His words ran through her head.
Leave for town before anyone catches us.
“You mean to elope?” she asked with a slight squeal.

“That was my plan for the night.” He did a slow sweep of the windows of the lower level of the house. “What was yours?”

“I don't know. I didn't have one.”

He shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. You always have a plan.”

“I know,” she said pertly. “But I didn't realize yours was to run away with me tonight, when you threw rocks at my window.”

“And what did you think my plan was?”

“To seduce me.”

Cicadas and crickets chirping in the grass was the only sound.

“I didn't realize you thought so poorly of me,” John said at last; his tone low and serious, a stark contrast to how he usually spoke.

“It's not that I think poorly of you, John. It's just that when a young lady is drawn to her window by a pebble-throwing suitor and told his plans include to talk and ‘possibly something more’, she assumes he...” Her face burned and she shrugged, unable to voice the words of explanation.

“Plans to ravish her,” he finished for her. “Don't worry. I do plan to do that, but first I plan to take you to town and give you my last name; however, if you continue to waste precious time, the only place we'll be going tonight is to the woodshed with your mother.”

A small burble of laughter passed her lips. “You know her very well.”

“Too well,” he retorted. “Now, would you like me to climb up there and help you down, or do you wish to chance the stairs?”

“I'll just jump down.”

“I was only jesting when I suggested you jump,” John rushed to say.

“Don't worry. I've jumped plenty of times. It's not that high.”

“It's two stories,” he pointed out.

Carolina ignored him and reached under her bed for one of the pairs of leather shoes she'd hidden and claimed she'd lost, so she could give them to one of the field hands' children who often outgrew their shoes long before May, when they all received a new change of clothes. She slid her feet into them, then went to the window on the adjacent wall and opened it, and reached for the thick tree branch that grew so close to her window. Using the skills she'd perfected from many nights of sneaking out to sleep under the stars, Carolina climbed down the thick branch as agilely as a cat. When she reached the tree trunk, she jumped the remaining four feet to the ground and then walked around to the side of the house where John waited.

“Are you ready?”

He jumped and then his gaze shot to her. “How did you get down here so fast?”

“I told you. I climbed down.”

Nodding, he said, “And did you happen to drop a bag of clothes down, too?”

“No. You said to hurry. I didn't think I had time to pack.”

“That's all right,” he said slowly, his eyes traveling up and down her barely covered form. “What you're wearing is more than appropriate for tonight.”

A measure of pride shot through Carolina. He desired her. And even better, he wasn't denying it. “What of tomorrow?”

“Don't worry about tomorrow, either. You're perfectly dressed for the rest of our lives, as far as I'm concerned,” he said thickly. He jerked his eyes away and swallowed. “But first we need to go find a Mr. Murphy. Come.” He led her toward the pasture where he'd tied up his horse.

John picked up the dark green bag he'd set next to the tree and dug through it until he found what he was looking for.

“What's that?”

“A coat,” John said, airing it out. “You'll have to wear something while we travel and see the judge.”

She flushed. “Of course.” She took the garment from John and slipped it on. Naturally, it was too large for her, and with only the moon for light, it was obvious the coat was dirty and ragged, but that didn't matter; she was proud to wear it.

John helped her mount the horse, then untied him and climbed behind her, nestling his body against hers. His large hands came around her and took the reins. When he flicked the reins, the horse began to walk and then run.

Carolina leaned against John's large body, pressing herself against his chest. The scent of his coat filled her nostrils. She loved the way it smelled of sandalwood and fresh grass, just the way John always smelled. She pulled the garment tightly around her, barely believing what was happening, but not daring to question it, too afraid she'd wake up to find that it had all been a dream and she was still lying in her bed.

But it wasn't a dream, and her confirmation came only a short time later when she was awakened by a softly whispered, “We're here,” followed by a warm kiss just behind her ear that made her skin prickle with excitement.

John dismounted and then helped her down.

With as much grace as a lady could possibly possess at an hour when the moon was ruling the sky, Carolina dismounted the beast.

John's arms wrapped around her to steady her. “You're all right. I've got you.”

She nodded and regained her balance. “Thank you.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her brow. “You're welcome. Now, let's go get married, shall we?”