Love's Fiery Jewel (10 page)

Damn the...But what was that? Suddenly alert,
Damien pulled himself erect. Glancing upward, he saw a
slight puffing of the shrouds that only moments before
hung so still. Damned if there wasn't a breeze coming up!

A slow grin gradually widening across his face, he
watched as the sails began to fill firm and sure, and
feeling the ship's instantaneous response beneath his
feet, Damien experienced a jolt of exaltation.

Turning, he shouted over his shoulder to the slender
first mate who stood a few yards behind him, staring up at
the billowing sails with a relieved expression, "Barnes,
get the men to step lively! It looks like we'll see Kingston
within a few days!"

Turning slowly, Amethyst surveyed the small bedroom, her eyes running over the familiar furniture with a
dispassionate glance. A room of her own at last... for
which she had paid an exorbitant price. Mama and she
had shared the small room and the lumpy double bed for
almost seven years. Amethyst had only relinquished the
room to her mother in the last year of her life when the
woman's failing health had demanded more privacy. But
the room was hers now.. .it had been for almost three
months, and Mama was buried in the small cemetery on
the hillside. It wasn't a fair exchange. Not fair at all.

Angry with the tears that filled her wide lavender eyes,
Amethyst tossed her ebony tresses impatiently, moving
to straighten the bedclothes as she did. It would do no
good to be maudlin. She was on her own now and would
have to make the best of the situation. But she wasn't
really alone. Tillie, bless her loving heart, stayed on in
the little room off the kitchen, even though she had not
been paid in countless months for all the time and work
she had lavished on Mama and herself. Maintaining that a
roof over her head and food to eat was enough for her,
and that her small income from the other members of the troupe provided for any essentials she might need, the
tireless mulatto had been an endless comfort in the
terrible days just before and after Mama had slipped
away.

And there was William. A small frown creased
Amethyst's smooth brow. William's devotion to her was
matched only by his father's abhorrence of a possible
match between them. Had the elder Sheridan not been
such a highly principled man, she was certain he would
have dissolved their bargained food exchange the
moment Marcus Peters had snidely informed him of his
son's attentions to the "waterfront actress." Since her
mother's death, things had proceeded from bad to worse
between father and son, quickly escalating to the volatile
stage with William's declared intention to marry her.

Her frown deepening, Amethyst shook her head.
William's declaration had been a bit premature as far as
she was concerned. She had no intention of marrying so
quickly, despite her circumstances. She was only sixteen
years old, and since she was fortunate enough to have
been accepted to fill her mother's spot in the repertory
company, she was not pressed to make any hasty moves.
She needed more time to be certain that the feelings
between William and herself were the same and of as
enduring a quality as those that had existed between her
mother and father. The beauty of her parents' love was
extremely vivid in her memory, sustaining Amethyst in
her darkest moments of loneliness. In her heart
Amethyst knew she would accept no less in her own life.
Marriage was a step she would contemplate very carefully
before committing herself. But William was so impa
tient.. .and stubborn. Ignoring his father's vehement
disapproval, it was only her own hesitation that held
them back from immediate marriage. In all sincerity,
Amethyst could not say she doubted William's love.
Considerate, attentive, loving, even if a trifle jealous and possessive since she had been fully accepted as a
permanent member of the troupe, she did not doubt the
feeling that shone from those mahogany eyes when they
rested on her so warmly. Nor did she doubt the depth of
emotion between them when William took her into his
arms. She also realized that each day it grew more
difficult for William to release her from his embrace, and
felt a deep guilt at the obvious suffering her hesitation
caused him.

But she was truly offended by his father's blind
prejudice against her profession. Once again feeling the
heat of anger, she gave a short, unladylike snort. Perhaps
her entrance on stage was occasionally met with bursts of
enthusiastic calls and comments that were not entirely
gentlemanly, but at least she and Mama had been selfsupporting and independent. And even if Mama and she
performed only bit parts, Papa had been a true artist. She
had no reason to be ashamed and would refuse to accept
begrudging approval even if it were offered... which it
wasn't. But William had countered that argument by
pointing out she was punishing him for his father's
ignorant prejudice. Maybe she was. ..she didn't know
...she was just so unsure....

Of one thing, however, Amethyst was not unsure. She
did not wish to add to the troubles already besetting
Sheridan Plantation as well as the other plantations on
the island. The prices of imported goods in Jamaica,
whether arriving legally or illegally, were considerably
higher than before the war. The cost of living continued
to climb while sugar prices fell rapidly. Even the increase
in coffee production was not sufficient to overcome the
generally bad economic situation. Hit by another severe
storm in the past year that had damaged crops and killed
thousands of slaves, many of the Jamaican owners faced
ruin. With the depression worsening and no relief in
sight, William Sheridan, Sr. needed his son more than ever. Despite her anger at his prejudice against her, she
did not wish to be a bone of contention between them.
She appreciated the ties of blood far too strongly,
especially now that Mama was gone, to dismiss the
estrangement of father and son lightly.

As if she did not have enough problems besetting her,
Amethyst had learned only last night that overtures were
being made to inquire if the American Company would be
welcomed back in its homeland now that the revolution
had been brought to a successful conclusion. Were
William to find out that the troupe was even contemplating leaving the island, matters would become
unbearably complicated. Well, she was certain he would
not...

The sound of a male voice in low conversation with
Tillie in the next room interrupted her thoughts.
Glancing to the small clock on the nightstand, Amethyst
felt a small stab of apprehension. William wasn't
expected for another hour or so. Something must have
happened to bring him here so early in the afternoon.
Throwing the bedclothes across the bed in a haphazard
manner so she might go out to ascertain the reason for
William's unorthodox arrival, Amethyst moved rapidly
to the doorway. Opening the door with a quick
movement, she began worriedly, "William, what are you
doing here so early? I didn't expect..."

Her words dying on her lips, Amethyst stared dumbly
into unforgettably piercing gray eyes that caught and
held her speechless.

Arriving that morning, the Sally and her anxious crew
had sailed boldly into Kingston harbor. Immediately
exhibiting the false ship's papers to the port officials
awaiting them on dock, Damien ignored the raised brows
and questioning expressions the forged credentials
evoked. The papers were in perfect order and there would not be time to verify them before the Sally sailed again.
For once grateful for the inefficiency of maritime
bureaucracy, Damien was completely at ease in his
charade, realizing that even though he and his men were
well known in Kingston, no one dared betray him. His
friends were loyal, and his enemies were in fear of his
strong obeah. Hah! That really was a joke! Suppressing a
smile as he strode swiftly toward his cabin to change his
clothes, Damien marveled again at the manner in which
the whispered fantasies of his magic powers had become
accepted as fact by the islanders. A fantasy that had
served him well, he snickered to himself as he closed the
cabin door behind him and reached for a clean shirt. And
it would continue to facilitate his relations with the
highly superstitious inhabitants of the island. Even the
brat's mulatto servant was in awe of him. Damien
chuckled, remembering the woman's terrified expression
when Amethyst defied and then attacked him on his last
visit to her home. His brows suddenly drawing together
in a small frown, he sobered quickly at the memory.
Everyone was in awe of him with the exception of the
violet-eyed brat, and she had hated him with a passion
that stirred her to fury. For some reason, the same sense
of urgency that had filled him since the inception of his
voyage to Kingston again nudged him annoyingly, and he
hastily buttoned the fresh white lawn shirt he had
donned over his well fitted fawn britches. Turning, he
walked quickly out the doorway and down the passageway, still refusing to admit to himself he would not be
free of this peculiar sense of disquiet until he was certain
as to the fate of the little chit possessing the purple eyes
that haunted him.

A short time later he stood outside the small house
where Amethyst and her servant still resided. His heart
throbbing a thunderous stacatto beat inside his chest,
Damien stood for long moments before the unimpressive frame building. Angered at his own emotional reaction to
the anticipated meeting, his scowl darkened as he
approached the door. He raised his hand to knock, but
suddenly refusing to submit to a request for entrance to
the household he had steadfastly supported for the past
three years, Damien jerked open the door, startling the
tall mulatto woman who gasped audibly at his appearance. Her eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension
and awe, Tillie immediately clasped her hands in front of
her chest, commencing the slow, hypnotic, swaying
motion she had assumed on his last visit.

His irritation increasing irrationally, Damien fixed his
penetrating gaze on her face, demanding harshly,
"Where is your mistress? I want to speak with her."

"In her room, Captain." The mulatto's voice was low
and wary.

"Well, tell her I'm here, woman! I don't wish to wait
all day!" In reality, Damien did not believe he could wait
another minute, so strong was the strange anticipation
building inside him. God! What was the hold that child
had on him?

As if sensing his presence, a familiar voice demanded
as the bedroom door opened unexpectedly, "William,
what are you doing here so early? I didn't expect..."

Startled lavender eyes suddenly met and held his, the
moment of confrontation freezing Damien into immobility at the sight that met his gaze. Her eyes were the
same.. .great purple orbs rimmed with sweeping black
lashes, but, Lord, the remainder of the vision that met his
scrutiny left him speechless! Allowing himself the liberty
of slowly assessing the changes three years had wrought
on the girl/woman standing before him, his gaze moved
openly over the marvelous face staring up into his. Still
dominated by those unforgettable eyes, the promise of
beauty he had recognized on her childish visage was
fulfilled to perfection in the high cheekbones and graceful contours of her cheek; the clear, creamy
complexion that glowed with natural vibrant color; the
short straight nose; the full, appealing lips gradually
tightening into a hard, straight line which was softened
only by the irrepressible dimple winking in her cheek.
She was still small in stature, her shoulders narrow, their
graceful curve covered by the glorious black mane that
streamed to her mid-back in a fall of gleaming, unruly
curls; but the small, budding breasts that had shocked
him into realization in that dark alley three years before
had bloomed into a fullness that filled her chest with
breathless appeal.

Her narrow ribcage was flat and straight beneath,
narrowing even further to a minute waistline. Her plain
gray skirt flared out softly, obstructing the continuation
of Damien's assessment, but remembering the long,
straight legs revealed in the boy's britches at their last
meeting, Damien could only surmise the beauty hidden
from his view. Returning his gaze slowly back to her face,
Damien noted absentmindedly that the slender arms
hanging at her sides were growing tense and the small,
delicate hands had balled into tight fists. Still oblivious of
the heat of increasing anger in her expression, Damien
was aware only of the sheer magnificence of the
Amethyst standing before him and the overwhelming
desire growing inside him to take that magnificence in his
arms and hold it tight against him, safe and secure, under
his protection. The warm glow inside him spreading with
a rapidity that shook him to the core, he was about to
reach for her when he was stopped abruptly by the fury in
her voice as she spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

Conquering his driving desire to snatch her into his
arms, Damien's eyes narrowed as he responded with
spontaneous anger at the challenge in her tone, "For all
you've changed on the outside, you're still the same obnoxious brat, aren't you, Amethyst?"

Purposely ignoring his insult, Amethyst continued
with a barely controlled sneer, "You're a little late, aren't
you, Captain Straith? Mama is no longer here to praise
your thoughtfulness and flatter your ego with her
gratitude."

"Flatter my ego..."

"And it is unfortunate, isn't it, Captain, that any other
plans you may have had in mind have been ruined by my
mother's untimely death."

Annoyed and bewildered at the idiotic girl's reception,
Damien said impatiently, "What other plans? What the
hell are you talking about, Amethyst Greer? Your mother
was a lovely, intelligent lady whom I respected. I heard of
her death only last month in Philadelphia and came here
to express..."