For Her Love (33 page)

“We don’t know that! He never saw you, and you said that there was another man—a man with a sword!”

Diego leapt to his feet. “He did not have to see me! All he needed to see was the man I killed with my sword outside your door. He is looking for a man with a sword and the woman he stole. Who else could that be? One way or another, whether she was killed or escaped, your friend is beyond our reach, and we are in grave danger!”

Grace turned back to the window. “He will know to look for you.”

Diego nodded sternly. “He knows I bought you last night and I did not do to you what I claimed to do. If he has any sense, it will not take him long to figure it out.”

“Does he know your name?”

“I am well known in Havana. A few questions in the right places and…”

“And he will know just who it is he seeks.” At Diego’s nod, she said, “Then you must sail. Just give me time to get off of the ship.”

Diego blocked the door, standing akimbo. “We will not sail without you. If you insist upon placing yourself in harm’s way, then I must insist upon being there with you.”

She thought of Encantadora just a few hours earlier, stretching out upon the bed, thrilled to have a few moments of relative privacy. She remembered the shrill screams coming from behind the courtyard wall. But neither could she ignore all that Diego had risked, both his safety and his savings. She owed him much. They might very well be too late to save Encantadora, in which case, she would be placing Diego at greater peril for naught. Grace closed her eyes and whispered, “Then we sail.”

What had become of Encantadora after they abandoned her that afternoon? And if Diego was wrong, and she was still alive, what would become of her now that they were abandoning her again?

*

It had been a long and arduous journey to the harbor with the woman called Encantadora, since she could barely walk. And it had taken Giles longer still to sort out her story and learn that whoever had taken Grace seemed to be trying to protect her. But the woman had not known the identity of the man who had befriended Grace, so he had to keep her with him as he went from ship to ship, and their progress was maddeningly slow.

They had paused a moment while Encantadora nursed her sore feet, and Giles looked out to sea. A small merchant ship was gliding gently from the dock, and it struck him that he had seen it somewhere before, a long time ago. Of course, he’d seen more than his share of Spanish merchant vessels in his years as a privateer. After a while, they all looked the same. The only thing that mattered was the sure and certain knowledge that the captain of so small a ship could not have paid fifty gold doubloons for a night with a prostitute. He need not worry that his wife was sailing out of his reach on board that vessel.

The kitchen was suffocatingly hot, as always, but it was the best place to find out the state of things at the big house, so Matu endured it. She helped Keyah cook by chopping vegetables at a small table that sat under a window facing the house.

“Dat ‘ooman drunk, me tell you, Matu,” Keyah commented. “Her lookin’ kinda antsy ova breakfas’. Den, her come out here an’ get a bottla rum. At lunch, her giddy as de maas when him tree sheets in de wind.”

Matu nodded, but Keyah’s gossip had set her to thinking. The master was the drinker, not the mistress. When Iolanthe needed something to settle her nerves, someone else, someone black, paid the price. But it was late afternoon, and the master would be home any minute. If Iolanthe were going to order a whipping, she’d have done it by now.

Keyah glanced out the window overlooking the sugar house and mill. “Him here! De maas! Him at de mill!”

Matu looked out the window with Keyah. Edmund dismounted from his horse and the overseer came over to speak with him. The conversation became quickly animated, rising in volume until Matu could clearly make out every vulgar word from Edmund’s mouth. She turned to Keyah, pointed to her eyes and then the house.

“Nay, Matu!” Keyah protested. “Dem catch you spyin’ on dem an’ dem a-go beat you dead!”

Matu didn’t care. She had to know what was to become of Grace. She was still holding out hope that the captain would come to his senses, but if he didn’t, she had to make sure that Grace’s father would do right by her. This whole situation was no fault of Grace’s. She waved Keyah’s protests away and watched avidly from the window. Edmund thrust the reins of his horse at a slave, grabbed his satchel of clothing from the saddle, and stalked into the house. Matu was not far behind. A quick glance in the direction of the sugar production confirmed that no one was watching. She raced silently to the far side of the house, stooped under one of the open windows, then raised herself so that her eyes were barely above the windowsill.

Edmund pitched the satchel onto the floor. Sinking into one of the upholstered chairs, he picked up Iolanthe’s embroidered pillow and stared at it with a look of disgust and despair. “Stupid woman,” he muttered, tossing it aside. It slid across the wooden floor and came to rest near the back door.

Iolanthe had quietly descended the stairs behind him. She wore one of her best gowns, sapphire silk that offset her ivory skin to perfection. “Edmund?” she said softly. “Thank God you are home. A horrible thing has happened.”

Edmund didn’t rise. He didn’t even bother to turn and face her. In a tense voice, he replied, “I’ve heard it all, already. Roger told me.”

“He told you that Grace’s husband came here? Oh, Edmund, the man was crazed.”

Finally he rose and leveled her with a look of pure contempt. “Crazed because you couldn’t keep your bloody mouth shut! What the hell have you done, Iolanthe?”

“Sooner or later he would have found out. It was unrealistic to believe that you could hide it forever.”

He gave a disheartened half-laugh. “It was unrealistic given that I have
you
for a wife.”

Iolanthe made a poor attempt to conceal her smug smirk. “And so it is all my fault, of course. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, but his hands fell to the back of the chair and tightened convulsively.

Behind the windowsill, Matu swallowed hard. It was almost as if the mistress were goading him. As though she didn’t realize that this was the one area in which no one played games with the master. Matu knew better than anyone how dear this secret had been to him. She was relieved to see Iolanthe sigh and soften her demeanor.

“You think I took the first opportunity to destroy your life, but it was not like that. Have a drink, Edmund. Have a drink and hear me out. What is the harm in that?” She picked up a bottle of rum from the table and held it out like a peace offering.

Edmund snatched the bottle from her hand. “I have the feeling I’m going to need something strong to wash down whatever lies you’ve dreamed up since yesterday.”

“If you have already made up your mind,” she retorted, “I do not know why I should waste my breath.”

He took a long draught and settled back into his chair, eyeing the bottle with distaste. “Bad batch,” he muttered, then returned his skeptical gaze to his wife. “Never let it be said I wasn’t a fair man, Iolanthe. I’ll hear you out. Hopefully your tale is more palatable than this rum.”

Matu eyed the bottle of rum in Edmund’s hand. Obviously Iolanthe had not gotten drunk on it.

“Take another sip,” Iolanthe urged. “I daresay what you tasted was your own bitterness. Perhaps, for a moment, you should consider the possibility that you do not have all of the facts. Personally, I think that Grace must have run away.”

Edmund laughed sharply and took another hard swallow. “Surely you can do better than that, my darling.”

She sat down in the other chair, leaning on the tea table that separated them. “Who knows what had happened between them? She had obviously already told him something of her past. Captain Courtney had some wild idea that I had sent my brother to abduct Grace. How could he have learned of Jacques save from Grace’s own lips? And who is to say how he reacted when she told him? He was insane when he got here. I had to go along with his ranting. I feared for my life!”

Edmund took another long pull at the bottle, frowning thoughtfully. “Foolish girl! She should never have told him about that. What purpose could it have served?”

Iolanthe watched him drink, her eyes lit with an unnatural fire. “It obviously drove him mad. He was insanely furious. And let me tell you something else. He knew that Grace was not mine, that we had lied to him. What was I to say? I was truly afraid he would kill me if I did not try to appease him. He was violent. He shoved me, stood on my dress!”

“God forbid, one of your bloody dresses!” Another gulp of rum.

“The pink one with the satin ribbons!”

“Never say it!” Edmund snapped derisively. “So Grace
may
have told him, and you took it upon yourself to make absolutely
certain
that he knew everything!” Yet again, he raised the rapidly draining bottle to his mouth. “Jesus! I’ve never had such rot-gut rum!”

“You do not look well,” Iolanthe agreed sweetly.

Matu’s heart began to pound. She was watching Iolanthe murder her husband! She knew that she should stop it somehow, but everything was happening so quickly, and she didn’t know what to do.

Edmund tried to stand, but he couldn’t seem to straighten and clutched his hand to his middle.

“What is wrong, Edmund?” his wife taunted. “Is it too painful to accept that perhaps you do not have as much control over your women as you thought?”

He tried to set the bottle onto the tea table, but it slipped from his hands and fell on its side. Golden-brown liquid trickled over the edge.

Iolanthe laughed. “And now, you discover that it is I who have all the power.” She stood and faced her husband, who rocked unsteadily on his feet. With her pretty white hands she caressed his face, letting them glide down to his chest.

Edmund grabbed her wrists, panic in his eyes, and Matu immediately recognized the expression of sublime ecstasy that slowly transformed the mistress’s face. Sinking to his knees, Edmund stared up at his wife. His face was turning a mottled shade of red, and he began to wheeze, sucking for air. “Iol—”

“Keep quiet, Edmund,” she snapped. She pulled her wrists from his grasp, then took his head in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

Matu clapped both of her hands over her own mouth to keep from crying out. Captain Courtney’s friend had been right. Iolanthe Welbourne was utterly insane. Murderously, dangerously insane.

When Edmund fell to the ground, Iolanthe knelt next to him, heedless of the dusty floor and her expensive gown. He lay gasping for air, and her breath matched his, gasp for gasp. A tiny whimper of excitement slipped through her lips. “
Oui, oui
,” she urged feverishly as she watched his body writhe.

Matu felt sick. She had no love for the master, honestly didn’t care whether he lived or died, but what she was watching was sick beyond reason. And what would become of them all once Iolanthe, indeed, held all the power? There would be no one to temper her, no one to stop her. Welbourne plantation had seemed like hell on earth, but it had only been a taste of it.

Now, the only sound of breathing that came from the room was Iolanthe’s as she lay next to her husband, her eyes closed, her face rapturous. And Matu knew that she had no choice.

Without a sound, she rose and slipped around to the rear door. Still, no one in the sugar structures was looking toward the big house. She slipped quietly through the door, and her bare feet raced lightly across the room. Iolanthe turned her head and opened her eyes just as Matu stooped and swept up the pillow that Edmund had so carelessly tossed aside. Before the mistress could rise, Matu was on top of her, pressing the pillow into her face with all of her might.

Iolanthe’s hands formed claws, and she tried to pry Matu from her, but Matu mashed her chest into the pillow atop Iolanthe’s face and grabbed Iolanthe’s hands in her own. She held them over Iolanthe’s head, pressing her palms flat against her mistress’s, their fingers interlaced. She knew she had to restrain Iolanthe while leaving as little bruising as possible. She lay with her full weight against the struggling woman, not daring to move, even after Iolanthe went slack and still.

Finally, when her own heart had slowed down and she was absolutely certain that’s Iolanthe’s heart was no longer beating at all, she pulled the pillow aside. Brown eyes, wide but sightless, stared up at her, and Matu shuddered. She took the pillow and ran upstairs to put it in Iolanthe’s room. There, on Iolanthe’s small bedside table, next to her favored sugared almonds, sat two small glass vials with traces of white powder.

Matu picked them up and glanced out the window into the rear courtyard. Empty. Then she ran back downstairs and pressed the vials into one of Edmund’s still warm hands. She took Iolanthe under the arms and dragged her to the sitting area of the keeping room. Another covered crystal dish of almonds sat on the tea table. Matu removed the cover and knocked the dish to the ground where the almonds scattered. She picked up two of them and, with her face set in grim determination, forced them tightly into Iolanthe’s throat. Finally, she pulled Iolanthe’s hands up to her neck and carefully turned the body over to hold the position.

All that remained was to inform the overseer of her grisly discovery.

*

Diego stood at the helm of his small merchant ship,
Magdalena
, and tried not to think about his aching back. Since she had come on board,
Señora
Courtney had been so touchingly grateful, so insistent that she not inconvenience him any further, so utterly willing to sleep in whatever small space that he might afford her. What else could he possibly do but give her his cabin and sleep in a hammock with his men? Well, try to sleep. He missed his comfortable bunk. The next time they had a female on board, the first mate’s cabin would house her.

Movement at the top of the hatch caught the attention of several of his crew, which in turn caught Diego’s. His guest was awake. She had been left with little choice but to wear Galeno’s clothes, but the breeches were hardly appropriate in front of the crew, so she had kept Diego’s jacket. It reached well past her knees and was sufficient for hiding most of her form, but it left much of her shapely calves exposed, and it was this feature that drew the eye of every man on board. Her hands were lost somewhere up the embellished cuffs of the sleeves. She had done her best to braid her hair, but it was too curly to be contained so easily. Diego grinned at the picture. Mulatto or not,
Capitán
Courtney had done well for himself in his marriage.