Elusive Hope (15 page)

Magnolia fumed. “Did I not say thank you? Perhaps you were too busy fondling me to hear.”

He laughed, a hearty laugh that echoed through the jungle. “How about an exchange then? I give you some food and you give me a drink.” Rising, he approached and held out the stick of roasting snake flesh.

She gulped. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Come now. It tastes like chicken. Besides, you must eat or you won’t have strength to walk all day tomorrow.”

Handing him the flask, Magnolia pulled off a chunk of meat. She closed her eyes, set it on her tongue, and forced herself to chew, trying not to gag at the thought of it. But Hayden was right. It did taste like chicken. Wonderfully delicious chicken. Her stomach welcomed it happily. She broke off another piece while Hayden sipped her pinga.

He lowered the flask and coughed, his face turning red. “What in the Sam Hill is this?”

“Brazilian rum. Thiago made it.” She frowned and gestured for him to give it back. “And that’s all I have for the journey.” When he didn’t return it, she tugged off another piece of meat and lowered herself with difficulty to the log. “But this snake is good. Very good. I’m going to think of it as chicken, however. How do you know it’s not poisonous?” She stopped chewing and stared at him, fear trailing the last piece down her throat.

Hayden chuckled. Much to her dismay, he took another sip of rum before he handed the flask back to her. “Poisonous snakes are brightly colored. Besides, I cut off the head where the venom is stored.”

Magnolia had no idea how he knew such a thing, nor did she want to know. She resumed chewing, finally feeling the effects of the pinga soften her frayed nerves. “So, you were an orphan in Charleston?” Emboldened by the rum, she broached a subject that would be considered impolite to mention in society, but for some reason she was desperate to know more about this fierce, untamed man.

The fire cast a circle of light, skipping over the surrounding leaves and branches like a swarm of butterflies in a field of flowers. Pops and sizzles joined the drone of crickets and bullfrogs in a pleasant melody.

Sitting on a stump just a yard from hers, Hayden tore off another hunk of snake and stared at it for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer her. “Eight years.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“Father left when I was two. My mother was run over by a carriage when I was ten.”

Magnolia’s throat closed around a piece of meat. She coughed, struggling to breathe, and grabbed the flask for another sip. Her heart felt as thick and heavy as the air around her. What father would leave a wife and child? And his poor mother…“How horrible. Did you not have relatives, uncles, grandparents?”

He shook his head and tossed the snake into his mouth. His jaw rolled tight as he chewed. “No one.”

Magnolia stared at the dirt. An ant scampered across the soil, forming a jagged path. First left then right, then left again as if it were lost and trying to find its way. Finally, it approached the fire then sped off in the other direction. All alone. Just like Hayden had been. While she’d slept in a feather bed, had a buffet of delicacies to choose from, and every luxury money could buy, he had been on the street, searching to find his way, scraping his sustenance from the dirt. “How did you survive?”

He grabbed a stick and poked the fire, sending sparks into the night. “I begged. Stole. Sometimes set traps and caught small animals, whatever I could.”

His tone bore the nonchalance of a man who didn’t want pity, yet pride and pain lingered in his expression. She wanted to touch him, to offer him comfort, but he seemed unsettled, like a powder keg about to explode. Besides, she didn’t want to care for him. Caring meant risk. And risk meant pain. At least with men like him. Handsome, capable men with sultry smiles and mischievous eyes that made a woman’s heart flutter, excitement and danger in their touch. She’d had her heart trampled by a man like that. But never again. They both sat silent for several minutes. Finally, he stood, strode to the edge of camp, and returned with two bananas. He handed her one.

“Yet you survived and obviously found a way to earn a living.” She took the fruit, hoping to sweep away Hayden’s somber mood with her compliment.

A breeze stirred the flames then spun around the camp, fluttering the surrounding leaves. Pinpricks of light flashed in the dark jungle. On and off. One there, and then another a few feet away. “Fireflies!” Shoving off the log, Magnolia jumped to her feet and twirled around, excited to see something so familiar. “Just like in Georgia! Do you see them? I’ve always loved fireflies ever since I was a little girl.” Somehow it made her feel close to her homeland, as if it wasn’t across an ocean, thousands of miles away.

Her eyes met his, and she found him smiling at her. Not a seductive sort of smile, but a smile of admiration. It did odd things to her insides, and she shifted her gaze away and sat back down. “What is it that you do, Hayden? To make a living, I mean.”

This seemed to amuse him, though why she couldn’t imagine. “You might say I’m a broker of sorts.”

“A broker? And what does a broker do?”

He seemed to be pondering the answer as he tossed another log into the fire. “I arrange sales of properties and other investments.” He smiled again, a smile of amusement, as if he’d just told her he was a clown with a traveling circus. At least that would be more interesting than being a broker from the sounds of it. In fact, it quite surprised her to learn that this uncultured man held such a professional job. Sailor, fisherman, blacksmith—those professions she could understand. But broker? “Sounds complicated,” she said. “How did an orphan learn such a trade?”

He peeled his banana and took a bite. “One learns many things on the streets, Princess. You do what you must in order to survive.”

Then why did his voice sting with guilt? Surely being a broker was an honorable pursuit. Perhaps not very lucrative, but honorable.

A monkey howled in the distance. Or was it something else? Something more menacing. Hayden didn’t seem to notice as he stared at the fire, a pensive expression on his face.

Magnolia took another sip of pinga. My, but the man was acting strangely. Finally, after a quick glance her way, he rose and sat on a log on the other side of the fire, as if he couldn’t stand to be near her.

She should be thrilled at his obvious disinterest. Relieved! Especially after their encounter in the bushes. Then why did the action disturb her so? She fingered a strand of moist hair lying in her lap and regretted not pinning it up appropriately. She must look a mess! Her father would be outraged. She could still hear him say:

“The Holy Scripture tells us that a woman’s hair is her glory. Therefore, it must be properly combed and pinned up with modesty and decorum at all times. Otherwise you shame not only yourself, but your family and your God. Only women of tawdry morals wear their hair loose.”

Corking the pinga, She slipped it in her pocket and retrieved her mirror from her valise. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Hair like coiled wet rope hugged the side of her face like a barnacle to a ship. Her lips were pale, her eyes dull, and red marks peppered her once porcelain skin. Retrieving her handkerchief, she quickly wiped the streak of dirt lining her forehead. How had she missed that before?

Perhaps her disheveled appearance was the reason for the look of disgust on Hayden’s face, the reason he distanced himself from her. She ran fingers through the tangled strands of hair, shoved them away from her face, and held the mass of curls up behind her. She should pin it up. But she didn’t feel like it tonight. Besides, who cared what Hayden thought? Letting her locks tumble down her back, she opened her flask and took another drink. Maybe she was worthless just like her father said. Especially without her beauty.

Firelight dappled leaves with golden light and flung sparks into the night. She glanced up to see stars winking at her through the canopy. She giggled at the sight and lowered her gaze. Things became blurry, distant. The pain throbbing in her heart numbed, and she tipped the flask to take another sip.

When Hayden plucked it from her grip.

“I think you’ve had enough, Princess.” Hayden shoved the cork in the nozzle and slid the flask into his pocket. Though he’d love to take another drink himself, he was already having trouble keeping his wits about him with this capricious woman. Capricious and whimsical and oddly delightful. And beautiful. No one had ever asked him about his childhood before. Or his occupation. Nor had anyone seemed genuinely sorrowful at his woeful story. In fact, the last person he expected sympathy from was the spoiled daughter of a rich plantation owner.

Yet the concern and pain burning in those blue eyes of hers had nearly done him in, broken his resolve to allow no one into his heart. No one close enough to really know him. No one who could hurt him—abandon him. He’d told her more than he’d intended. And she was more beautiful to him for having drawn his sad tale out from hiding. But now, he must shove his past back into the cobwebbed recesses of his mind and close the door on further conversation.

At least about him.

“Here, have some more snake.” He handed her the stick.

“I don’t want snake. I want my rum back.” She held out her hand.

He put a piece of snake in it instead.

Those eyes that had been so beautiful when they were filled with concern for him now flashed like lightning. He gave his gaze permission to rove over her curves, heating his body in remembrance of the feel of her. Zooks, but she was a delicious morsel. And now a besotted one as well. In her condition, he would have no trouble seducing her. Like he’d done with so many women before.

Which was why he mustn’t take a drink. And why he must sit as far away from her as possible.

She tossed the snake into her mouth. “My rum, if you please?”

“Let’s save it for tomorrow, shall we?” He returned to his seat and threw another log on the fire.

A frown on her face, she began peeling her banana. “You’re a monster, Hayden Gale.” She mumbled. “And no fun at all.” She bit into the fruit and fumbled with her hair, trying to set it in place without pins. “No, you are worse than a monster. You’re one of those giant toads down by the river. You know the ones that are big and fat and ugly and have all those hideous spots on them? Yes, you’re one of those. Except there’s not a libertine’s chance in a convent that you’ll ever turn into a handsome prince.”

Hayden couldn’t help but smile.

Until she began to sing.

“Open the door, my hinny, my heart,

Open the door, my own darling;

Remember the word you spoke to me

In the meadow by the well-spring.”

Hayden must find a way to stop the irksome sound. “Tell me of this fiancé of yours.”

She stopped and stared at him. “I’ve told you. His name is Samuel Wimberly, and he’s a renowned solicitor.” She sat taller as if trying to convince him of the man’s worth. “He was an adviser to Jefferson Davis, you know.”

“If he was such a great match, why are you here in Brazil and not playing the doting wife back home?”

She released a heavy sigh and gazed into the fire. “My parents didn’t think Samuel was good enough for me. They wanted someone with more money and a better name to help our family recover from my—” She froze, her eyes widening.

“From your…?”

“From the war.”

“From
your
war?” he teased.

“Don’t be silly.” She waved a hand through the air. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, Samuel must have gone into hiding after the war because we couldn’t find him. And my parents got some harebrained idea of pawning me off on a wealthy Brazilian of royal blood or a rich American who came here to escape the war. Apparently many of both can be found in Rio.”

“Then why didn’t they stay in Rio with you when we first arrived?”

“Because…” She glanced at him and flattened her lips. “Because they want to get settled first, establish a presence, a name…to attract the right sorts…you know, appearances and all that.”

“Hmm.” Either the woman was lying or she and her parents had beans for brains. “Surely being part of the landed gentry, your parents could have found a suitable match for you in the States. Why come to an unknown country?”

Knowing how much she hated Brazil, Hayden expected her to agree vehemently. Instead a shadow rolled across her face as she fingered a wet strand of her hair.

“My father says a woman’s appearance is all that matters. And because I was born beautiful, it is my duty to marry well. That’s what beautiful daughters do, you know, they are useful for making alliances that help the entire family move up social and economic ladders.” She wobbled on her stump then perched her chin in her hand. “Trouble is I can’t seem to
keep
myself presentable enough for him.”

A lump formed in Hayden’s throat.

The shadows beneath her eyes deepened. “I can never seem to please him. I can’t keep my hair in a proper coiffeur nor my skirts without wrinkle and stain. And I’ve tried so hard. So very hard. Which is why he dragged me to Brazil.” She stared down at the strand of hair in her hand. “I owe it to him to form a good alliance. To pay off my debt. And now I’ve gone and run away. Ruined everything for him once again.” Her voice caught, and she released a long sigh. “I simply can’t stand another minute in this place, surely you understand? The jungle, the dirt, the bugs…and I love Samuel. And he loves me. How am I to find a proper man out here in this desolate cesspool? I want to help my father, I do, but I fear he’s given up on finding me a match anyway, and I’m fast becoming an ugly old spinster.” She dropped her head into her hands and began to sob.