Sweet Savage Eden (7 page)

“But, Jamie—”

“Please, Robert, do as I say.”

Robert shrugged and smiled. “My pleasure. Perhaps it will enamor me to the lass. You should take care.”

“We shall probably—neither of us—see her again, so what does it matter? Charm her into taking enough to get by on. Enough to find a new position away from such a one as Master John.”

“Aye.” Robert nodded. “Were that oaf to touch such beauty, it would indeed be a sacrilege.”

“Aye, that it would. Go on now, the funeral party moves onward.”

Robert dismounted his horse and wedged his way forward through the crowd.

She had not brought the black hood back up about her head, and from his position Jamie could see her face. No tears touched her cheeks, and her magnificent eyes were open wide upon the world. Yet she moved like some ice princess of a fantasy, forever frozen, forever made cold. No heart could beat within her breast, no warmth could thaw her. Her hair, a flow of golden silk, lifted and
fluttered about her cheeks, and she seemed not to notice it. She walked straight forward, ever forward. She did not smile, and she did not crack. She was as beautiful as ice.

The wagon moved on; the crowd moved on. Jamie followed at a discreet distance, and he wondered vaguely why he took the time, and why he would bother with a maid with a temper like hers. She had tried to rob him and she had been blatantly disappointed—no, horrified!—to discover that he was Jamie, and not Robert.

It was her circumstance, he thought. Pity; had she come straight to him, he gladly would have eased her way and asked naught of her. He could be a hard man and he was aware of it, but those who knew him and those who served him knew that he was always fair and, in times of need, generous. What was his he claimed wholeheartedly, yet what was his he by rights could give, and he would have given the girl the money she needed without a thought.

He shrugged against the cold. What difference could it make?

They walked, against the winter chill, a good distance from the town. The crowd thinned. All who followed the girl now were a wizened little man and the plump, pretty barmaid who had also served them the night before.

Jamie realized that they had come to the common folks’ cemetery.

No great monuments rose to the dead here. He thought of the chapel at Castle Carlyle, of the great monuments sculpted to his ancestors. Here there was earth, and the occasional poor cross, or a death’s-head riding an angel. Mostly there was nothing but the barren winter earth.

A large hole awaited the cart. A mutual grave. Other shrouded corpses had been cast into it already, and more would join it before the day was done.

The priest stepped down from the cart. He waved a pot of incense, and his words rose high. God forgave all mortal sins, and Christ welcomed his own into his fold. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. Linnet Dupré had found a haven in the arms of the Lord Jesus.

Jamie watched Jassy, watched her standing tall and proud, the wind moving the sheaths of black gauze all about her. The priest’s words fell like clods of earth, burying her mother with finality. And still she did not move, did not whisper, did not speak.

The swift service came to an end. The girl stepped forward to press a small coin into the open palm of the priest, and at last Robert stepped forward. The girl started. Her enormous blue-violet eyes opened wide, and emotion came to her at last: dismay, surprise, and a pale hint of shame.

Jamie felt his lip curl into a grim line. He hadn’t known why, but he had asked Robert to return her things with a certain purpose. He hadn’t known that he had such a cold streak of maliciousness, but it had seemed important that she know Robert had been aware of her activity. Perhaps she had wounded his pride. Perhaps it seemed that she believed Robert could give her more. Maybe he was just annoyed that she fawned so over his friend, believing there could be a future for her. Perhaps she dreamed of a fine house, of a title, of precious things. Perhaps he was the one who could draw the fire from her eyes and into the heart of her body.

Perhaps she even believed he was so soft of heart that he would marry her. She had misjudged her man. Robert needed wealth, and he would marry for wealth, no matter how great the beauty of a golden-blond barmaid.

As Jamie watched, Robert paid the priest for the coffin, and the toothless driver of the cart—apparently the owner of the coffin—came around, his ugly face gnarled up with interest.

The girl protested. She murmured something, and Robert turned to her and explained that she must let her mother rest in the coffin for eternity; it was a very small thing for him. The priest, who had been tipped well by now, assured her that it was important for Linnet’s mortal remains to rest well in the wood.

The girl pulled the black gauze from about her and draped it lovingly over the coffin. Robert took her by the shoulders and led her away from it.

The cart was lifted and lowered.

The coffin made a thump as it landed in the ground. Only then did Jamie see the emotion that touched her face, a crippling anguish. It touched her for just a second, and then it was gone, and the ice was back about her, the crystal-cold control.

They came from the cemetery, and she saw him then, sitting high upon Windwalker. He saw her stiffen, and he saw the hatred enter into her eyes. She pulled away from Robert’s hold, but Robert was talking and pretended not to notice.

The girl’s eyes remained locked on Jamie’s.

He dismounted from his horse. As they came closer, Molly and the wizened little man bobbed to him, murmuring, “Milord!” Jassy said nothing. She did not bow, and she offered him no title. She stood like stone against the cold and the wind. Behind them, the cart and the priest rode by, and the grave diggers hurried on with their task.

“Ah, there you are, Jamie!” Robert said. “I was telling her she must not return to Master John’s, but she has said she has no intent to do so, anyway. She has a bit of money on her now, and she plans to travel southward to find her family.”

“Does she?” Jamie said.

“Aye, that she does.”

They were all standing out in the snow-packed road. Windwalker snorted loudly, and the breeze picked up with a vengeance.

“I’ve got to get back, luv,” Molly told Jassy. “He’ll have a strip of my skin if I don’t.”

“Oh, Molly!” Jassy whispered. The two women hugged each other. Jamie was treated to another glimpse of the warmth she was capable of expressing when she chose.

“And I, Jassy,” the wizened little man said. “God go with you, child! Remember, we will always be here, should you need us!”

Jassy hugged him too. Fervently. He and the woman Molly bobbed to Robert and Jamie again, then swiftly departed.

“You were planning to walk to your family? Alone?” Jamie said skeptically.

“Aye,” she snapped back. “And what is it to you, sir?”

“Lord Cameron, Miss Dupré,” he said, correcting her with a slight bow. “Mistress, the question is of some importance to me, for my father’s estates are not far, and he would be gravely distressed to hear of a young serving wench accosted and set upon and perhaps even left for dead.”

“Should I be accosted and left for dead, Lord Cameron, I shall ask my Maker to see that your father does not hear of the event,” she retorted. With a sweet smile she turned to Robert. “Thank you, sir, for all your kindness.”

“Jassy, let us take you to the town ahead at least. We’ve an …” He paused, looking at Jamie with a shrug. “We’ve an extra horse. Ah, mistress! Truly the way is rough and ragged and littered with misfits and vagabonds, and I would be your escort.”

Jassy smiled slightly and nodded, then looked Jamie’s way. “And tell me, kind sir, is Lord Cameron accompanying you?”

“Aye, that he is,” Robert said uncomfortably.

“Then I should prefer the misfits and vagabonds,” Jassy said quietly.

Jamie forgot that she was a young woman, forgot that she had just lost her mother, and his infamous Cameron temper came into play. He clamped his hands down hard upon her shoulders, swirling her about. His face was darker than ever with the depth of his anger, his jaw clenched tight with the strength of it.

“Mistress, I believe you’re forgetting that I might well have set the law upon you. Thievery of your type is punishable by hanging.”

“Jamie!” Robert protested.

Jamie ignored him, staring into the hate-filled eyes of the woman before him. “What, madame, were you planning on stealing—a horse? Or are you so very cunning then, or is it a matter of sheer stupidity?”

“Don’t touch me!”

He swore out something in absolute fury. He released
her shoulders but caught her waist. Before she could protest, he set her upon Windwalker’s back. He leapt up behind her, grasping the reins with some difficulty, for she was swearing then, with the penchant of a dockhand. She tried to shift, tried to dislodge herself. Robert stood in the road, laughing.

“Well, there’s one not dying to be a Cameron heir!” Robert chuckled. “Excuse me, Jassy.” He bowed very low to her. “Please, do excuse me if I enjoy myself. You see, in London the ladies throw themselves all over him and he barely notices. It’s nice for a change to see Lord Cameron at a loss!”

“Robert, mount up, will you?”

Jassy twisted against him. Beneath her threadbare cloak she was wearing the same garments she’d worn the night before. She tried silently to dislodge his arms from about her.

“Let me—”

“There is no extra horse, mistress. You may ride this one. Have you left anything behind?”

“I am most eager to leave you behind!” Was he mistaken, or was there a hint of desperation about her? Did the threat of tears hover in her eyes? Did her blood truly run warm, like that of other women?

“Mistress, you are a wretched witch, and in all honesty I do not know why we don’t drop you here in the road!” Why in God’s name was he bothering with her? She had annoyed him yesterday; he had been engrossed with his Royal Charter, his plans and his sketches, and he had sorely lost his temper when she had interrupted him. But then she had attracted his attention, and he wasn’t at all sure why he should give a damn, or even if he truly did.

There’s the lie, he realized. And there’s the rub. He was worse than Robert, for he wanted her with an obsession. He wanted to find that thing about her which he could not see, and could not touch. He wanted the fire beneath the ice.

Her fingernails suddenly curved over his hands where they lay upon the reins, digging in. She spoke, her voice
grating from her clenched teeth. “Lord Cameron, you vile heap of rodent compost—”

“Mistress, enough!” he roared. Her nails hurt. He should have been wearing his gloves. He swore, and with that, he set his heels to the bay. Windwalker took flight, sending her reeling hard against him. He heard a slight gasp. She clung desperately to the saddle pommel, and he was glad, for at least she had the instinctive sense to value her own life.

Hoofbeats sounded as Robert followed behind them. The winter wind blew about them, and though it seemed they rode the clouds, they rode hard, and it was cold.

Jassy was glad of it, for she quickly became numb. She had no adequate covering for this wild ride, nor did she know how she had found herself cast upon it. Perhaps it was all a nightmare. Within a day her life had changed so drastically. That morning she had broken all ties with the past. Linnet was gone. There was no reason for her to remain with a brute like Master John. She was young, she was very strong, she could not only read and write but also could teach geography or Latin and even history. There had to be a better place in life for her.

First, however, there was a matter of vengeance.

She was going to her father’s house. She wanted nothing from anyone. All she wanted to do was to meet the duchess—and to spit upon her and let her know that she had brought about the destruction of Linnet Dupré, and that somehow, somewhere in time, she would pay for her cruelty. When that was done, Jassy could live again. She would find a better life.

She didn’t want to admit that it was thanks to the gold coin that Jamie Cameron had so carelessly thrown her way that she could possibly make the long journey to Somerfield.

Jamie Cameron! she thought with scalding fury. Jassy’s mother was gone, she was lost and bereft, and this dark son of Satan did not seem to care. He had no manners, no chivalry, but still insisted upon being there—ever a memory of her deepest humiliation!

She longed to throw herself from the horse! But she could not, and so she clung tight.

The wind stayed with them. They rode hard, passing frozen fields and ice-covered forests. The cold wrapped her and filled her, and at the least, it kept her from thinking of her loss. Her mind was upon him, for with each great movement of the bay’s legs she was pressed against his chest. She felt his arms about her as he held the reins, and she felt the pressure of his thighs against her. How could he? she wondered bleakly. After the things that had passed between them, how could he imagine that she could bear the sight of him?

Suddenly the landscape changed, or what she could see of it, for her hair continued to lash against her face, stinging her eyes. The trees thinned, and they passed more of the barren fields of winter. There were barns and stables and cottages to the left of the road, and a frozen brook to the right. Within minutes they came upon a village.

Only then did Jassy realize that the bay had slowed, and that their wild ride had come to an end. Nor had he run the horses too wickedly, for they had come no more than twenty or twenty-five minutes from the Crossroads Inn. Suddenly they stopped. Lord Cameron leapt down from his mount and turned to reach for her. She ignored his arms at first, but though his eyes were enigmatic, they carried some curious warning or demand, and she allowed him to help her down. She hated the impact of his touch. She hated the strength of his arms and the feel of his hands upon her.

“From here, Mistress Dupré, we shall have to know where it is that you want to go.”

“I want to go alone,” she said quietly.

Robert came up behind them then, and two young stableboys came running out of the single tavern in the small place. Both seemed awed by the sight of Jamie and Robert, and Jassy quickly ascertained that the nobility and gentry seldom rode along this path. But the boys were quick to serve, and the horses were led away to the warmth of the stable. The tavern keeper came to the
wooden steps of his establishment and stared at the lot of them with equal awe.