Elusive Hope (10 page)

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, her voice scratchy like wool.

“Are you injured?” Helping her to sit, Hayden dipped the canteen to her lips.

She gulped down the liquid as if she hadn’t had a sip all day.

“Easy now.” He withdrew while she caught her breath.

She pushed him away, her eyes regaining their clarity. “Injured? Of course I am.” Her shrill voice returned, and he instantly regretted giving her the water. “My feet are covered in blisters, my arms with scratches”—she brushed fingers over her cheeks, horror claiming her features—“My face. Oh, my face. There are bites all over it. And my hair.” Fingering errant strands, she attempted to tuck them into the rat’s nest that used to be her coiffeur. “Everything aches and I’m dreadfully hungry. And frightened. And I was attacked by a flock of bats!” Her blue eyes became a misty sea.

And Hayden’s anger returned. “A colony.”

“What?” She sniffed.

“A colony of bats. Not a flock.”

“Oh. Who cares?”

“I told you not to follow me.” Hayden growled and rose to his feet, chastising himself for not hearing her behind him all day. For believing she’d obeyed him and relaxing his vigilance.

“I stayed farther behind this time.” She gave him a satisfied smirk. “It’s not easy to track a man from such a distance, you know. I did quite well. Well, except for this horrendous state I find myself in.” Her gaze swept over her torn, stained gown, and misery shoved her pride aside once again.

Zooks, the woman’s fickle moods! Hayden’s jaw tightened to near bursting. “Too bad you wasted all that suffering. You are still not coming with me.”

“You wouldn’t leave me out here alone!” A look of innocent incredulity appeared on her face. “I’ll never find my way back from this distance.”

Hayden ran a hand through his hair and marched away from her lest he do something he regretted.

“I can pay you.”

The words turned him around.

“My parents are wealthy.”

“How wealthy?”

“We owned the largest cotton plantation in Roswell.” Planting her hands on the ground, she struggled to rise, her skirts ballooning in her face. “Grr,” she squealed in exasperation and flopped back down.

Despite his anger, Hayden took pity on her and extended his hand, helping her to her feet. “
Owned
does me no good. Especially since the North confiscated your land, did they not?”

She took a few tentative steps, her delicate features knotting in pain. Hayden kept his grip on her hand firm until she settled. “What pains you?”

“My feet. I can hardly walk.”

“Yet you managed to follow me all day.” He released her with a huff, refusing to fall for her charade. This coddled woman knew exactly how to get others to fawn over her every need.

Pressing down her skirts, she attempted to wipe dirt from the once pristine fabric, her brow and lips twisting into odd shapes in the process. Finally she gave up and turned her back to him in a swish of creamy cotton. “We sold everything as soon as those infuriating Yankees marched into town. That was long before the war ended, as you know.” She affected a nearly believable sob. “We lived under occupation for months and months. It was simply”—she threw a hand to her chest and cast a despairing look at him over her shoulder—“well, it was simply unbearable.”

Hayden snorted. Though he’d heard the news about Roswell, and it was quite possible her parents had cashed out what they could of their holdings in time, she was playing him. But for what? Sympathy?

Her chest rose and fell. “I believe I’m growing faint.”

An owl hooted as if laughing at her declaration. Hayden folded his arms over his chest. “Then you’d better sit down.”

Frowning, she fiddled with her skirts and lowered herself onto a tree stump. “Turn your face, I must remove my shoes.”

For some reason he didn’t feel safe turning his back on this vixen. Nor did he like being ordered about like some servant. “You may remove your shoes, Princess, but I’m not removing my eyes from you.”

She scowled and began fumbling beneath her skirts. “How could I forget? You are no gentleman.”

“Indeed. And now you have all but handed yourself to me on a platter.” He’d intended his tone to be threatening, even sultry, but it came out laced with anger and disgust. Finally a breeze fluttered the leaves and cooled the sweat on Hayden’s neck and arms. But it did nothing to cool his irritation.

She froze, her face paling. A growl in the distance drew her gaze and a visible tremble ran across her shoulders. Perhaps not everything was an act. Hayden took a step toward her. “You are safe by the fire.”

She looked at him as if he’d been the one to just emit a feral growl.

“
And
with me.” No sense in toying with the woman any further. As much as he hated to accept it, he was stuck with her.

She bit her lip and began fumbling for her shoes again but said nothing. A definite first for her. The fire crackled and spit. Turning, Hayden added another log and tried to shake off his anger. The prospect of being paid would certainly make the trouble of bringing her along worthwhile. “Do tell me of this vast estate.” He snapped a branch with his boot and tossed it into the flames. Smoked curled into the darkness, biting his nose.

“It was to be my dowry,” she said, her voice strained. “My parents sent it to my aunt and uncle in Ohio for safekeeping with the provision that upon my parents’ death or my return to America, the money would be handed over to me at my wedding.”

“And why didn’t your parents simply bring the money along with them to Brazil?”

“As insurance. Provision for me in case something happened to them.”

Hayden scratched his jaw. It sounded believable enough but something wasn’t right. “Being the astute businessman your father claims to be, surely he would have preferred to invest that money here in Brazil and see a hearty return, rather than leave it so far out of reach languishing in a jar somewhere.”

“There was no guarantee of any return here.” Firelight etched lightning across her eyes. “We knew nothing about Brazil and saw no need to bring additional monies besides the amount required. As it turns out, it was a wise choice since the parson would be in possession of our fortune now.” She gave him a smug look as her hands continued to grope beneath her skirts.

One muddy red shoe emerged from the flurry of soiled lace like a dragon from a cloud.

Plucking the pistol from his belt, Hayden laid it on the log and sat down. “So, you have a dowry. What is that to me? We are here and it is there.” Zooks, he could have used that money. He needed supplies. Badly. And a tracker to find his father.

“You aren’t going back to the States?”

“What I seek is in Brazil.”

Another shoe emerged. Along with a wince and a frown. “Then, why are you going to Rio?”

He shuffled his boot in the dirt. “If you have no means to pay me, we have no deal.” A final test to see if she had any money at all.

Cultured brows folded over eyes brimming with fear.“A gentleman requires no compensation to help a lady.”

“Yet, we have already established I am no gentleman.” He grinned, though his insides broiled at the predicament she placed him in. Of course he wouldn’t leave her in the jungle.

A frog—no, more like a toad—hopped along the edge of the small clearing. Magnolia gasped and drew her knees up to her chest, scouring the ground around her.

Hayden rose.“Why would I want to endure your feminine theatrics for four more days? Especially without payment.”

“Feminine theatrics, mercy me!” She huffed. “Of course there are feminine theatrics. I’m a woman, after all.”

She certainly was. Even covered in dirt and bug bites, she presented quite an alluring sight. One which he allowed his gaze to rove over at the moment. If only to taunt her.

“You are no better than that toad.” She squinted and tilted her head toward the bush where the creature had disappeared.

“A toad who will take you back to New Hope tomorrow,” he said. Perhaps Hayden should do just that. He hadn’t been with a woman in over a year and this one was far too distracting. Far too distracting and far too infuriating.

“No, wait, please.” Her voice pleaded. “I do have some money with me. I need some of it to purchase passage home, but you’re certainly welcome to the rest. If that’s not enough, I promise to send you more when I arrive at my aunt and uncle’s.”

“I thought the money would only be delivered upon your marriage.”

“I have no doubt I’ll be married soon enough. My fiancé waits for me even now.”

A slight intonation, a slight hesitation in her voice, gave Hayden pause. She was lying about something. But was it the money, her fortune, or the fiancé? “So, where is this money of yours?”

Turning aside, she stretched out her legs until slender toes peeked out from beneath her skirts. Slender, blistered, bloody toes, laced in frayed stockings.

Hayden swallowed. Loathing the guilt that swamped him, he rose, tore off several leaves from a nearby plant and knelt before her. “May I?”

She hesitated, her eyes shifting between his. Finally she nodded and inched her skirts up to her ankles. Blisters and raw skin peered at him through what was left of her mangled stockings, and he cursed under his breath. Picking at the hose, he removed the silken scraps, grabbed his canteen, and poured water over her feet. She jerked but didn’t cry out.

“All this from walking?”

“I suppose I’m not accustomed to being on my feet all day.”

Hayden glanced at her ankle boots. Not really ankle boots but tall, fancy red-leather boots scrolled in velvet designs with silk ribbons and heels at least two inches high. “Not exactly the best choice of footwear for a long trek.”

“I had nothing else.”

He didn’t doubt that. “Why didn’t you tell me about your feet?” He poured more water on the wounds.

“I did.” She pulled them back. “Wait, I brought some of Eliza’s salve.”Opening her valise,she waded through its disheveled belongings.

Hayden took the jar from her hand. Their fingers touched. Their gazes met. She was distracting him with those beguiling eyes. Eyes that shifted between his—unsure, fearful, needy. They did funny things to his stomach. And to his breath, which seemed to have vacated his lungs. He looked away, opened the jar, and began applying the ointment. He’d never seen such delicate feet. Nor such blisters. He concentrated on them, not on the creamy skin that wasn’t marred, nor on the sweet puffs of her breath wafting over him as she tried not to cry out at his touch.

The jungle sang a chorus around them as a breeze spun a cluster of dried leaves across the clearing. The tattered lace at her hem stirred. There. There was her sweet scent beneath the sweat and mud, a scent unique to her, a scent that caused his pulse to rise. Especially now when she was so close. And so quiet…and vulnerable.

“Thank you, Hayden.” For once her voice held no sarcasm or spite.

It weakened his resolve. And he couldn’t have that. “And just how do you plan to walk tomorrow?” He kept his tone sharp.

“So, you
will
take me?”

Against his better judgment, yes. “First, show me this money you speak of.” He finished applying the ointment and sat back, wondering at the sensation in his fingers where he’d touched her. The lady was comely, to be sure. More comely than most. Yet he’d never suffered a shortage of attention from alluring women. Why did this one affect him so?

Reaching once more into her valise, she sifted through the contents and pulled out a velvet drawstring bag. “Gold coins. At least three hundred dollars worth.”

He shielded his excitement. Three hundred dollars would buy him a wagon full of supplies and a good tracker. Picking up the leaves he’d gathered, he pressed them onto her feet.

“All I need”—her voice came out shredded like her stockings as he continued wrapping her wounds—“all I need is enough to buy passage back home and then purchase conveyance to my aunt and uncle’s and the rest is yours.”

Searching the vines hanging from trees for the right size twine, he sliced a piece with his knife and tied the leaves in place around her feet. She thanked him again. He avoided her gaze. Avoided seeing the appreciation in her eyes that he heard in her voice. Avoided anything that would soften him toward her, make him weak. He took the bag, opened it, and held it to the firelight. Gold coins winked back at him. Gold that made his head spin with delight and his brows arch in surprise at her honesty. He bobbed it in his hands, measuring the weight.

She slapped a bug on her arm and glanced around the camp as if she weren’t the least bit interested.

Tying the pouch, he handed it back to her as a wonderful idea formed in his mind. “You have a deal, Princess.”

“So you’ll escort me to Rio and see me safely on a ship back to America?” She eased her skirts down over her feet.

Hayden strangled a chuckle. Who was she fooling? She wouldn’t make it alone on a ship to the States. Not surrounded by sailors who’d been out to sea for months. Not unless he could find a ship of monks! She would be a Magnolia blossom ripe for the picking. And he could never allow that to happen. He was a swindler, not a monster. “Yes, of course.”

“A good ship with a good captain who will ensure my safety?”

He nodded. But he had other plans for the enchanting Southern belle. Plans that would aid him greatly in discovering the whereabouts of his father. For Hayden relied solely on the information provided by Brazil’s immigration officer, Mr. Eduardo Santos. And the man was not forthcoming with information unless his palms were greased with gold. Gold Hayden needed for supplies and a tracker. Yet if there was one thing Hayden had noticed about the man—besides the fact that he was as crooked as a bent twig—it was that he had an eye for the ladies. And a woman of Magnolia’s beauty and charm would have no trouble extracting the information Hayden needed. All she had to do was flutter her lashes, give him a coy smile, flatter him in that dainty, Southern, I’m-a-helpless-woman-in-need-of-a-real-man-accent, and Mr. Santos would tell her the location of Midas’s treasure if he knew it. How did Hayden know? Because if he were not a stronger man, if he were not privy to feminine devices and the tricks of skullduggery, he would, no doubt, himself, be bewitched by the siren.