Love's Fiery Jewel (22 page)

Opening her eyes again, Amethysts gaze met clear,
translucent gray eyes as Damien bent toward her. Within
a moment a large tanned hand touched her forehead, and
a tentative smile grew on his weary face.

"Your fever has broken, Amethyst. You will soon be
better, darling." The broad hand on her forehead slipped
down to gently touch her cheek as his eyes moved
caressingly over her face.

A small frown slipping across her brow, Amethyst was
puzzled at the pale beneath Damien's tan and the stubble
on his normally cleanshaven face. Apparently he had not
shaved for several days. There were dark circles under
his eyes.. .his hair was disheveled as if raked by a
nervous hand.. .his clothes were untidy and wrinkled
.. .his appearance in general so unlike his usually
meticulous grooming that Amethyst was momentarily
confused.

"Have you been ill, Cap... Damien?" Amethyst
offered hesitantly, realizing her weak voice was only
audible because of the absolute silence of the room.

"I?" Momentarily puzzled, Damien stared into her
face for a few moments before a small smile slipped across
his bold, even features. "Not I, Amethyst. You are the
one who has been ill. But you will soon be better, darling,
and we will..."

Interrupting dully, Amethyst strained to speak again, "And William.. .he is recuperating?"

The smile dropping from his face as it slowly assumed
a stiff, emotionless mask, Damien answered quietly,
"Yes, he is recuperating."

Nodding her head briefly in acknowledgment, Amethyst slowly drifted back to sleep, unaware of the angry
tightening of Damien's lips the moment before he turned
from the bed in frustration.

"Damn!" Taking a few short strides toward the
doorway, he paused with his back to the bed. "Damn
her!" he cursed again under his breath, turning back
abruptly to direct a heated glance toward Amethyst.
"William, William, William! She can think of no one
else! Well, it will do her no good to think of him any
longer. She belongs to me, now. Only to me."

Wearily rubbing the back of her hand across her
forehead, Tillie paused momentarily to lift her head from
her washing and stare unseeingly into the distance. She
could not seem to concentrate on her work. Amethyst
had been free of fever for almost five days now and
although she was still weak, she was definitely on the way
to recovery. Quaco had been sent to them several times
within the last week inquiring as to the state of
Amethyst's health for a worried and recovering William.
At William's request and Tillie suspected for an
outrageous price, Dr. Martens had also come to examine
Amethyst, pronouncing her free of the disease that was
still sweeping the island. Amethyst was indeed feeling
better. She had begun eating again and some of her
natural color had returned. Captain Straith had coaxed
her into walking with his support several times in the last
few days, despite her lingering weakness, although she
was still confined to her bed for the greater portion of the
day.

Captain Straith...Tillie had considerable difficulty in sorting out her conflicting impressions of the tall, fairhaired man with Obeah eyes. Obviously affected by
Amethyst's illness, he had not left her side since she had
fallen ill except for occasional brief outings in the back
yard for fresh air. He seemed obsessed by Amethyst,
spending as much time nursing her during her illness as
Tillie herself. And Tillie was fully aware she probably
could not have managed the round-the-clock care
demanded by Amethyst's illness without him. Strange
...where at first she had believed Amethyst under the
Captain's Guzu, it now appeared that it was Captain
Straith who was bewitched. Whatever the case, it was
clear that he did not intend to allow William Sheridan to
spirit Amethyst away at any cost and Tillie silently feared
the confrontation to come when the young man was once
again well enough to travel. In an effort to put off the
inevitable, she had strictly forbidden Quaco to tell his
master of Captain Straith's presence in the house. The
trouble would start soon enough and neither Mr.
Sheridan nor Amethyst was yet strong enough to
withstand the stress.

But Amethyst would recover, and from all indications
Captain Straith would be sailing within a short time.
Time was in their favor.

Having dismissed that worry from her mind, Tillie
faced at last the nagging fear that had grown until it gave
her no peace. Three days before she had received word
that the fever had struck Conway Plantation, with the
slaves' quarters particularly hard hit. Almost half its
slave population had come down with the disease in
varying degrees. There had been rumors of at least 20
deaths. Tillie allowed herself to think no further. Her
throat closing with emotion, she once again lifted her
hand to brush away the frightened tears that had
gathered in her eyes. Raymond... she prayed to the
great Pucku that he had not been stricken. Her heart pounding heavily within her breast, Tillie raised both
hands to wipe away the tears now cascading down her
cheeks. Raymond... she could bear ignorance of his
fate no longer.

Carefully hanging out the few clothes she had washed,
Tillie absentmindedly dumped the pail of water into the
yard and turned back to the house. She would go `onight
to Conway Plantation and return at dawn. Captain
Straith had spent the last week and a half sleeping in their
living room and was not likely to leave now. She had left
Amethyst in his care before and was certain she could
depend on him should Amethyst feel ill. Yes, she would
go tonight... she would have to hurry... it would be
twilight in a few hours, and she had much to do.

With a deliberate effort to appear casual, Tillie walked
leisurely to the opposite edge of town, her heart
pounding heavily in her breast as she finally slipped into
the woods to reverse her trail to Conway Plantation in
the usual manner. She, also, had lost considerable weight
in the previous two weeks, anxiety having inhibited her
normally hearty appetite. Slimmer in the cheek, shoulders, and waist, her loss of weight seemed to add to the
natural grace of bearing obvious even as she traveled the
rough trail. Having taken pains with her grooming in
spite of her haste, she was a strikingly handsome woman
in the inconspicuous dark skirt and white native blouse
she had chosen to wear. But her mind lay on the path
ahead, each step bringing her closer to relief or
realization of her fears as she picked her way cautiously
through the damp forest, unconsciously swatting the
annoying insects heavy on the night air.

Within the hour the dwindling light of day revealed
the familiar landscape of Conway Plantaton, and
swallowing tightly, Tillie turned onto the trail on which
Raymond had led her so proudly a few weeks previous. A few steps more and the small clearing was within sight. If
Raymond was well, he would be done with his work for
the day and would be waiting as he had promised he
would each night for her to come to him again. It had
been a long time, but Raymond would not forget. He...

An abrupt movement at the doorway of the hut caught
Tillie's eye and slipping back into the shadows, she
waited cautiously for someone to emerge. Abruptly
stepping from the dimness of the hut into the rapidly
fading light, a young Negress stopped a moment as if
sensing her presence, before turning to direct her words
into the hut behind her.

"Alright, Raymond, I'se gowan now, but I'se come
back when Raymond call. Quasheba ready fe Raymond..."

The young woman stared expectantly into the dark
hut, waiting until a tall, massive shadow came to stand
behind her. Were it not for his size, Tillie would have
found it impossible to distinguish Raymond's black form
in the growing darkness, but his unusual height could not
be mistaken. Waiting a few more minutes for a response
that was not forthcoming, the young Negress turned and
walked slowly in the direction of the slaves' quarters.

The burning ache inside her rapidly growing into a
violent rage, Tillie waited until the woman had disappeared into the blackness before stepping into the open,
her eyes flashing with anger.

"So, `Tillie the only woman fe me,' be that true,
Raymond?" Tillie hissed, mocking his ardent declaration
of their last meeting as she trembled with fury at the
scene she had just witnessed.

Momentarily startled into immobility, Raymond stared
in Tillies direction, his expression unclear in the waning
light. Abruptly in motion, he was at her side within a few
seconds, a low moan escaping his throat as he wrapped
his strong arms around her, straining her roughly against his massive chest.

"Tillie... Tillie Swann..." Mumbling tenderly
against her hair, he was seemingly unaffected by Tillie's
violent struggles to free herself.

"Turn me loose, Raymond," Tillie ground out
warningly from between gritted teeth as she realized her
struggles were to no avail. "How many women Raymond
want this night? Tillie want no part of black man who
take plantation women like old plantation bull! Tillie get
him own man.. .nice mulatto man like Chauncy
Worth, and..."

His arms tightening warningly, Raymond muttered
softly against her ear, refusing to relinquish his hold
despite her protests, "Tillie take no mulatto man. Tillie
woman fe me like Raymond man fe Tillie."

`Tillie see that woman.. .him come out from him
wappen-bappen. Tillie no fool..."

His full lips moving knowingly against her cheek,
Raymond whispered softly, "Raymond tell Quasheba
gowan home. Not woman fe Raymond."

"Humph!" Tillie scoffed loudly, a burst of hope she
could not suppress lightening the weight in her chest
despite herself. "No black man turn away black streggah
when him come."

"Tillie be hard ears t' night." Raymond's voice was
patient, his joy at Tillie's appearance overpowering his
anger with her surly mood. "Quasheba come 'n
Raymond make Quasheba go. Raymond got no time fe
him when him wait fe Tillie Swann."

Noticing her struggles had all but ceased, Raymond
loosened his hold and slipping his arm around her
shoulders, gently urged Tillie toward his hut. "Tillie
come now... lie with Raymond 'n Raymond tell Tillie
how long days be since Tillie come see him."

Touching his mouth to her temple as Tillie slowly
began moving alongside him, Raymond continued softly, "Raymond prove him save himself fe Tillie..."

Within minutes they were inside the dimly lit hut, its
damp scent pleasingly familiar to Tillie's heightened
senses. Raising her hand, Tillie touched the broad dark
cheek, inwardly delighting in the touch of his skin as she
avidly searched his face in the light from the single
candle.

"You be truthful, Raymond? Tillie Swann share no
man..."

"Raymond tell Tillie true."

Studying him silently, Tillie's heart began a rapidly
accelerating beat as she felt his body's eager swelling
against her. Satisfied by this final proof that Raymond
had indeed been true, this night at least, she firmly wiped
away all thoughts of other nights when she had not come
and slid her arms slowly around him to caress the back of
his neck as she spoke.

"The fever.. .my Amethyst, him almost die. Tillie
worry Raymond be sick and be all alone, with no one fe
care fe him."

"Raymond fine, Tillie." His voice heavy with passion,
Raymond continued softly, "Tillie be medicine Raymond
need.. .keep him well.. .keep him happy..."

Moving his hands to his waist, Raymond quickly undid
his rough britches, tossing them to the chair as he drew
her down to the sleeping mat, still clean and neat as Tillie
had demanded. His voice a soft command, he drew her
against him, whispering in her ear as his hands eagerly
caressed her light cocoa skin, "Forget fever now, Tillie.
Remember only Raymond... think only Raymond..."

His touch fanning the embers smouldering within her,
Tillie turned willingly toward him, and for that night at
least she did think only of Raymond...

Her hair streaming out behind her, Amethyst's feet
barely touched the ground as she ran wildly through the dark Kingston streets. The heavy night air lay against her
skin like a smothering blanket, but the perspiration
soaking her clothes, causing them to adhere to her body
in dark, sticky patches, was the cold sweat of fear.
Turning a corner, she came to a part of town with which
she was strangely unfamiliar. More lost with each step
she took, she became frantic with fear and again began to
run. Finally reaching another corner, she stopped
abruptly. Her chest heaving with exertion, she glanced
first left and then right, in an attempt to regain her
bearings, but the effort was in vain. Noticing a small
group of men gathered midway down the street, she
slowly advanced toward them, but was startled when
their heads suddenly snapped toward her. Their pale,
yellowed skin glowed eerily in the light of the street lamp
overhead as their gaunt, wasted faces stared in her
direction with a strange fascination. Revulsion overwhelming her senses as the sickly skeletons continued
their steady perusal, she abruptly turned around in an
attempt to escape their intense scrutiny. She had just
begun running in the opposite direction when she saw a
person standing at the end of the street. The man's back
was toward her and slowing to a halt, she strained to
identify the familiar stance. She was still staring steadily
in his direction when the shadow turned to reveal
William's boyishly handsome face.

"William!" Her relieved shout echoing in the street,
she sobbed joyous tears as she began running in his
direction only to be jerked to an unceremonious halt by a
strong hand reaching out of the darkness. Turning,
Amethyst saw a tall, broad figure step out of a hidden
doorway. The thick, sun-streaked hair glinting in the
meager light set her heart to racing moments before he
moved fully into the open to reveal the sober expression
and pale accusing eyes of Damien Straith.