Love's Fiery Jewel (5 page)

A hesitant step interrupted her thoughts and Tillie
looked up to see Amethyst return from her mother's
room, her bright eyes downcast as she walked slowly
toward the unsmiling mulatto.

"Mama thought she heard us arguing, Tillie..."
Amethyst's expression was contrite as she slowly raised
her eyes. "She was upset.. .but I told her not to worry
because I was just behaving poorly, and would apologize
to you. I'm sorry, Tillie," she whispered, suddenly
moving forward to throw her thin arms around the older woman. "You are my only true friend. We shan't argue
anymore, shall we?" she said hopefully, awaiting a break
in the stern countenance staring down at her.

With a relieved sigh, Amethyst saw a smile break
through the stern facade, but Tillie's voice was strong
with unwavering authority. "No, we won't argue
anymore if you listen to me, missey."

Smiling with relief, Amethyst countered with a quick
but evasive, "Thank you, Tillie...."

Keeping close to the shadows of the buildings, her light
footsteps echoing eerily in the deserted street, Amethyst
moved quickly down the poorly lit lane. Why had it taken
so long for Tillie to fall asleep tonight? Was she
suspicious? No, she couldn't be or she would never have
made it out the door! Oh, Tillie would be furious when
she found out she had sneaked away during the night, but
Amethyst couldn't leave anything more to chance. Mama
wasn't getting any better. Dr. Martens said she needed to
be "built up." She was weak. There was only one place
where she could get fresh milk and eggs.. .the Sheridan
Plantation. They had a few goats and a few chickens that
had managed to survive. If she could only get some flour
or rice, she could hide some of it and trade some for fresh
milk and eggs. She had heard two men talking at the
performance the previous night. The Sally had arrived
the night before with a cargo of food and was secretly
docked somewhere on the island. Captain Straith.. .a
small grimace of distaste crossed her youthful features at
the mere thought of his name. Four years had not
lessened her instinctive, well-remembered dislike of the
man, but he was her only hope. He had liked her
mother.. .he had been holding her hand that day on the
ship, hadn't he? She would explain how sick Mama was.
She'd beg if she had to, although the mere thought
revolted her, but she'd wring some supplies out of his cold heart. She had to...

With a determination born of desperation, Amethyst
increased her speed. Her light footsteps skimming over
the ground, she was mindless of the danger of her solitary
mission when with heart-stopping abruptness a large
figure lurched out of a doorway as she passed, catching
her leg and knocking her to the ground. Aided by the
strength of pure, unmitigated fear, Amethyst pushed and
pounded at the clutching hands, wriggling and squirming
until she had worked herself free. Struggling to her feet,
she ran as fast as her slender legs would carry her. Her
heart pounding in fear, Amethyst ran blindly down the
winding street until her heaving lungs could take no
more. Gasping painfully, she finally slowed her pace and
threw a frightened glance over her shoulder. No one
followed! With an immense sense of relief she realized
the man had probably been drunk.. .there were many
drunks in the dock area. It was a dangerous place to be,
which had been the main reason for Tillie's objection to
her plan. But dressed as she was in boy's clothing, her
long hair stuffed into a hat that she wore pulled well
down over her ears, she could go on without further
problem... she hoped.

"Just a few blocks more," Amethyst mumbled under
her breath as she cast apprehensive glances into the
shadows. Despite her resolve, the superstitions of the
island began to play on her mind. In each wavering
shadow she half expected to see the Old Hige, the hag
who shed her skin each night to wander in the dark in the
shape of a ball of fire and suck the blood of sleepers. Or
the Rolling Calf with its fiery eyes, dragging its chain
behind it...

Shaking her head clear of rioting thoughts, Amethyst
stopped to get her bearings. The bawdy house should be
near. It was usually easy to find by the noise emanating
from the many well-lit rooms, but it was so late that all was quiet. Oh, she hoped she hadn't missed him, but if
she could judge from the snickers of the two men,
Captain Straith would be at his favorite streggah's rooms
until the early morning hours. Amethyst's education on
that score had been quite broad. She had learned a long
time ago how these women made their living, selling
themselves. As for her, she would rather die than let that
vile man touch her.

Finally judging she had indeed arrived at her
destination, Amethyst glanced up and down the street. It
was quite empty, and realizing she could do no more than
wait, Amethyst moved into the shelter of a doorway and
sat down. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she locked
her arms around them in a small, tight ball. She would
wait until morning if she had to. If only she hadn't missed
him...

Shooting an absentminded glance into the ornate
vanity mirror in the gaudy bordello room, Captain
Straith quickly brushed his heavy sun-streaked hair into
place. He had stayed longer than he intended. It was
nearly daylight and he had a lot of work ahead of him
before he sailed. By now the cargo would be unloaded and
the reloading underway. A small smile curved his full,
sensuous mouth. A run to Jamaica always proved well
worth the risk. The residents of the island were near
panic for food, and his cargo of flour, rice, Indian corn,
meat, and the dried herring which was the staple of the
slaves' diet, was anxiously awaited. He was especially
pleased that on this voyage he had been able to negotiate
in advance for a full return cargo of gunpowder and
military supplies that were not generally available to
Yankee buyers and were so badly needed by the colonial
army. It made no difference to General Washington
whatsoever that his needed supplies were smuggled past
British gunboats. In fact, it appeared to increase his appreciation of them.

The first gray shafts of dawn were beginning to squeeze
through the drawn blinds in the small opulently
furnished room and Damien glanced regretfully toward
the wide disheveled bed that dominated the center. And
damned if Ruby hadn't made it worth the risk to come see
her last night. The sensuous octoroon was well versed in
her trade, and Damien suspected that the bags of rice and
flour he had, brought her were more welcome than
diamonds. Stopping just a moment longer to run his eyes
over the dusky-skinned beauty sleeping so soundly,
Damien gave a small laugh. She had fair worn him out
last night in appreciation, and, he suspected, in hopes
that her performance would insure a visit on his next
voyage to the islands-which indeed it had.

"You have well earned your rest, Ruby," Damien
snickered lightly to the sleeping streggah, and throwing
her a farewell kiss, he quietly opened the door and moved
down the dark stairway. "Hell," he mused as he stopped
midway to stretch his tired, aching body, "it's going to be
a long day." Suddenly remembering the touch of those
full, demanding lips against his skin, he sighed contentedly. "But it was worth it..."

With another small, self-satisfied laugh, Damien
continued down the steps, casually and effectively
dismissing the sleeping woman from his mind. He had
more important things to think of now and Ruby would
not enter his thoughts-again until he returned to Jamaica.
The important thing now was to get out of the area as
quickly as possible without being recognized and return
to his ship. With a strong sense of purpose Damien
continued down the staircase, his mind already running
ahead to the tasks of the day that was just dawning.
Loading of fresh water and cargo would have to be
completed so they could sail on the evening tide. They
could not risk another night on the island. There was always the chance that someone would find the reward
on his head just too tempting to turn down, even though
the individual who dared would suffer the wrath of the
entire island if he were found out. After all, he was a
hero, wasn't he? And in addition to that, he had strong
obeah! Chuckling lightly to himself, Damien reached the
foot of the steps and turned into the alleyway. He was
well aware that the islanders were in awe of his powers of
witchcraft, and their superstitious beliefs served his
purpose well.. .were in fact his best insurance against
being turned over to the...

"Captain Straith!" A small whispered voice cut into
Damien's wandering thoughts and brought him up
sharply for the briefest second before he continued
briskly down the street. Light footsteps sounded behind
him and the voice hissed again, "Captain Straith!" but
Damien strode purposefully forward, effectively ignoring the urgent summons.

The running footsteps behind him came closer, and
Damien braced himself the second before a small hand
grasped his arm, simultaneously jerking him around.

"Captain Straith! Please, I want to talk to you a
moment."

Glancing down sharply at the boy standing beside him,
every nerve in his body alert to impending danger,
Damien responded with feigned annoyance, "You have
the wrong man, boy. My name is not Straith. Now get
along and leave me alone. I have places to go." Shaking
off the small hand that clutched' his arm, he continued
down the street, shooting quick, surreptitious glances
out of the corner of his eye for a possible trap, for which
this boy was possibly the lure.

The running footsteps continued behind him, as did
the small, determined summons which grew annoyingly
louder. "Captain Straith...please wait... Captain
Straith, I must talk to you..."

"Damn the blasted boy!" Damien cursed softly under
his breath. "If he keeps this up, the entire island will
know I'm here!" Shooting one more glance around and
satisfied that the street was indeed deserted, Damien
turned the corner, simultaneously stepping into an
alleyway and drawing back into the shadows as he did.
Expectedly, within a few seconds the boy turned the
corner. In a swift movement, Damien's strong, powerful
arms snaked out, covering the insistent mouth with one
hand as the other wrapped around the boy's waist,
jerking him full back against his body in the darkness of
the alleyway.

"Now, what is it that you want?" he hissed menacingly
into the boy's ear as the slight figure squirmed and
wriggled in his grasp in an effort to break his hold. "Are
you the lure for some sort of trap?" he growled. "Well, if
you are, it would seem that the tables are reversed,
wouldn't it?"

The boy continued struggling and kicking, his thin
arms flailing about ineffectively, his feet kicking wildly
in an effort to land a few savage kicks in his vulnerable
shins. Despite his great strength, the boy's unyielding
resistance was seeing results. Damien's grip around the
boy's narrow waist began to slip and the boy suddenly
turned and began pounding and scratching fiercely at his
chest and face, while directing sharp, well aimed kicks at
his legs.

Momentarily stunned at the fierceness of the child's
attack, Damien dropped his defenses, only to receive an
unexpected, well aimed kick to his knee that sent sharp
shooting pains the full length of his leg and left him
gasping.

"Damn the little bastard!" he swore under his breath,
simultaneously raising his hand to deliver a hard,
resounding slap to the angry face of his small opponent.
The blow connected squarely and the boy staggered backwards, his small fists dropping lifelessly to his sides
in prelude to complete collapse. Realizing he had almost
knocked the boy senseless with his light blow, Damien
grabbed him quickly around the waist, jerking him
forward against him before the wobbling legs buckled
completely. For a few seconds the boy's weight hung
lifelessly against him, his head laying lightly against his
chest as he struggled to regain control of his senses, and
Damien froze with momentary shock. Were those
budding breasts pressing so intimately against his chest?
Suddenly jerking the boy away from him, he held the
slight figure at arms' length. Still supporting him with
one arm, he raised his hand to jerk the hat from the boy's
head. To his amazement black, silky curls tumbled down
around the slender slumped shoulders, and realizing
he-or she-was found out, the child raised slightly
dazed but furious eyes to his. The moment of contact
with the enraged glance sent an inexplicable jolt through
Damien's body. Unable to explain the peculiar sensation,
still holding the girl at arm's length, Damien took a few
quick steps to the right and thrust her face out of the
shadows and into the brightening light of morning.

The dazed expression had left the small, pointed face,
and raging lavender eyes glared into his. Immediate
recognition surged through him for all the girl had grown
since Damien last saw her. Amethyst.. .the child
named for the color of her eyes.. .how could he ever
forget the little brat?

Jerking her roughly back into the shadows of the
alleyway, he growled into her furious face, "I see you
haven't changed a bit since we last met, Amethyst Greer.
Still the same thoughtless little idiot you were four years
ago. What were you trying to do, bring the whole street
down on me?"

"No, I was not, Captain Straith." Amethyst could not
stop herself from sneering in return, but suddenly realizing she would have to change her tactics if she was
to ask a favor of the odious man, she struggled to
overcome her fury. With a supreme and obvious effort
she managed a small smile and a more pleasant voice.

"I was desperate to see you, Captain, because," taking
a deep breath and managing an even wider smile she
continued, smiling up into his dubious expression,
"because you are my last resort. I am desperately in need
of a favor."