Moonlight Rebel (28 page)

Lucinda's mind raced in circles like a frightened animal. She couldn't allow this secret to come out. She didn't want Krystyna to be sent away, not when things were going so well. Yet, she thought it would be disloyal not to let Morgan know. Dismayed, her head swimming in confusion, she deeply regretted having come.

In bewilderment, she wandered back into the house. Savannah looked at her sharply as she passed. Her sister-in-law usually had a fairly pleasant, vacant look on her face. Now her expression was the picture of mystification.

"What's the matter?" Savannah wanted to know.

Lucinda looked up, startled. She was so disoriented she hadn't even realized that Savannah was there. "Nothing," she murmured quickly, looking at the floor lest the other woman might read something in her expression. "Nothing at all." She hurried away. The last person in the world she wanted to know what she had just seen was Savannah.

Savannah shook her head. "Ninny." She continued on her way to the library, where she found Charity. Her friend was sobbing, angry tears dampening her lacy handkerchief.

What was wrong with everyone this morning? Were they all distraught? "Goodness, what is the matter with you?"

Charity wiped her cheek, crumpling the handkerchief in her fist. "I've decided to break my engagement to your brother."

Savannah seated herself opposite the young woman and studied her in surprise. This was the last thing she had expected to hear Charity say. Just what was the little minx up to now? She knew that Charity was consumed with lust for her brother, and she suspected it was Jason, not Charity, who had called an end to the engagement.

Playing her role, Savannah reached over and patted Charity's hand in sympathy. "Isn't this a little sudden, dear?"

Charity shrugged carelessly. "Not really. I fear this was a long time in coming. I just didn't know how to break it to the poor boy. But he is far too," she paused, searching for the right word, "unorthodox for my tastes," she concluded happily.

"As you wish," Savannah said demurely. "I certainly am sorry that we won't be having you in the family." In truth, she hadn't cared one way or the other about Charity marrying her brother. Savannah only knew that Charity was a better choice than the upstart Jason was considering now. At least Charity could be manipulated. "I had so looked forward to all the nice times we could have as sisters."

Absently, Savannah leaned forward for a better view of the dining room. Winthrop was still there, stuffing himself. She gave an impatient sigh.

Does that man do nothing but eat? she wondered. Her brother's break with Charity put her in a pensive mood. She was really bored with Winthrop. But for his family ties, she knew in her heart she wouldn't be seeing him, much less contemplating marriage to the man. Her father's wishes didn't concern her. She could work around him if necessary. Winthrop looked as if'he would grow into a fat, dull old man. And soon. There was a part of Savannah that longed for romance. The idea of Winthrop making love to her filled her with revulsion.

She sighed again. Marriage would certainly not be anything to look forward to. But then, she was confident that she could put Winthrop off except for a few times a year. It was a small price to pay for a title.

She realized that Charity was still talking to her, despite the fact that she had stopped answering. "I'm sorry, what did you say, dear? I'm afraid I'm still very shocked by your news."

Charity looked annoyed at having to repeat herself. "I said that I want to send one of your people for my brother. I wish to go home as soon as possible. Tomorrow perhaps." She struck a weary pose. "There're so many things to put aside now that the wedding won't be taking place next month."

"Next month?" Savannah echoed. This was the first she had heard of it. She really is a scheming minx, Savannah thought, looking at Charity. She was certain there had been no such plan. "I had no idea it was to be so soon."

"Oh, yes." Charity kept her eyes turned demurely upward. She knew she looked terribly appealing that way. "Jason wanted to assure that he would have me as quickly as possible. That was why I had to make the announcement. I couldn't very well leave the poor dear at the altar." That would be exactly what she would relish doing. But that chance to humiliate him now would never be hers.

Savannah rose, tired of listening to lies, tired of the sight of Winthrop eating and slobbering. He wasn't fat yet, but his waist was far from trim. She could envision him becoming very obese as time went on.

A fat, slobbering man. Am I really doing the right thing? she asked herself.

She was about to leave the room when she heard the front door bang and an oath pierced the air. Her father was home. He had left that morning to visit a neighboring plantation owner. They had expected him to be gone until the end of the week. What could have brought him back so suddenly? Savannah wondered.

She rose and kissed his ruddy cheek as Morgan McKinley burst into the room. "Hello, Father." She glanced in Charity's direction. News of the broken engagement would wipe the scowl from her father's face, she'd wager. He had never liked Charity. "We didn't expect you back so soon."

He shrugged out of his coat and let it drop on the chair Savannah had vacated. "I wanted to get back before there was no home to get back to." Morgan went over to the decanter of wine he kept in the room and poured himself a small glass.

He was in a state of agitation that could only be caused by the war. Savannah frowned. She could feel another lecture coming. After listening to Charity's laments, she couldn't bear to be bored anymore. Discreetly, she left the room as her father turned his attention to the men, his remaining guests, who had come to gather around him.

Scowling, the wine doing nothing to mollify his disposition, Morgan looked at the lot of them. All soft, he thought, all unfit for bearing arms. He had met a man on horseback while on his way to the Connolly plantation, and had been told things that had made him turn back.

"Where are my sons?" he demanded.

"Here, in the house, Master Morgan," Jeremiah answered when no one else responded.

Morgan looked at the gaunt, black face. The man always seemed to know everyone's comings and goings. At least someone has a head on his shoulders, he thought. "Go fetch them for me."

As Jeremiah left the room, the other men waited for Morgan to speak. Morgan had been one of the leaders of the Virginia convention when it had called for decisive action against the Crown's taxation. He had championed the idea of independence when no one else would even utter the word. It grieved and vexed him to no end that neither of his sons was even partially involved in a cause so dear to him. So crucial to the country that gave them birth.

When he spoke he commanded attention. The noise in the room died away. "While all of you were here, drinking rum punch, American patriots were dying in Norfolk, trying to save the town."

Only blank stares met his gaze. Norfolk was but twenty miles away. At their door. "The British burned down the town, damn you!" His voice trembled with rage.

Indignation and questioning looks met his announcement. Then the men looked at one another.

Bored, Charity walked out.

Jeremiah knocked lightly on Jason's door.

Krystyna quickly raised her head from Jason's chest. The dreamy haze of contentment left her as those raps brought back the world.

"Yes?" Jason called. He placed a finger to his lips when he saw the look of alarm that entered Krystyna's eyes.

"Master Morgan's back. He wants to see you in the sittin' room, Mast'r Jase. I'll be going to find Master Aaron now."

Jeremiah sounded as if he knew what was going on behind the closed door. Jason shook his head. There were times when that old man was uncanny.

He rose quickly. He was still totally naked. Surprised by his lack of inhibitions, Krystyna averted her eyes.

He smiled at her modesty as he pulled on his britches. "That's something you're going to have to get used to, darlin'." Jason allowed himself a moment to look at the outline of her body beneath the blanket, envisioning it as he had seen it only a few minutes ago. "We're going to have to break you of your shyness," he declared. "Although you certainly weren't shy when I had you in my arms."

He kissed her quickly on the lips. Even that fleeting taste had him wanting more. If his father were not calling for him —and would undoubtedly come up to get him if he didn't appear—Jason would have stayed and pleasured them both again.

"Ah, Princess, if you only knew what you do to me." Before desire got the better of him, he quickly pulled on his shirt and left the room.

She watched the door close. This time she had no empty feeling inside. There was still confusion, but it was edged with a border of peace. She didn't understand any of it.

Quickly, Krystyna hurried out of bed, struggling into her clothes as best she could. She glanced at the bureau mirror to check her appearance. She wanted to be sure that no one would guess where she had been and what she had been about.

Cautiously, she opened the door a crack, then looked up and down the hallway. Satisfied that no one saw her, she slipped out. She was about to go down the stairs when she saw the door at the other end of the hall open. Aaron walked out, stuffing his shirt into his britches. He was obviously hurrying so as not to incur his father's wrath. It appears from his manner that he has been about the same thing as Jason, Krystyna thought. But Aaron wasn't coming out of his wife's room.

Krystyna slipped into a recess in the hall and watched as he went down the far staircase. It led almost directly into the sitting room. Several moments later, Leola emerged from that end room, glancing furtively about.

Krystyna stood, numb with surprise. Poor Lucinda. How could he keep on doing this to her?

Having made a decision, Krystyna stepped forward. "Hello, Leola."

Leola gasped, her eyes wide. She hadn't seen Krystyna in the hallway a moment ago. The two women looked at one another, there was now no secret. A guilty look came over the dark woman's face.

"I ... I meant no harm, miz," she whispered. "He . . . he's being very nice to me and . . ."

Sympathy flooded Krystyna. What could Leola do? Refuse a master who owned her body and soul? The young woman had no control over her own destiny. Krystyna placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Leola was trembling.

"You need not explain anything to me," Krystyna said kindly. How pretty Leola is, she thought. She could see why Aaron was attracted to the girl, but she was angry at his lack of self-control. Didn't he realize how much he hurt Lucinda with his actions? Just because a woman was prettier than Lucinda . . .

Krystyna stopped, an idea occurring to her.

Leola was still looking at her with frightened eyes.

"I will not say anything," Krystyna promised. "But you should be more careful. He can get you with child, and then your problems will be many."

"Yes, miz. Thank you ma'am, miz." Leola curtsied.

Krystyna began to hurry away. There was John to see to. She had left him alone much too long.

"You won't say nothin' to my pa, will you?" Leola asked anxiously.

The plea struck a chord in Krystyna's mind. She turned around slowly and looked at Leola. Returning to her side, she asked softly, "Is this the first time he has taken you to his bed?"

Leola looked down at the rug and hung her head.

"It is not, is it?" Krystyna sighed heavily. Leola raised her head, tears shining in her almond eyes.

"No, miz, it ain't. But I ain't bad. I . . . He's nice to me, miz. Mast'r Aaron, he give me things." Leola grasped Krystyna's hand and then quickly dropped it, realizing that in her agitation she had touched her. Slaves were whipped for less. Still, something in the white woman's eyes had made her trust her.

"Oh, miz, he makes me feel things inside. How can it be bad if I feel this way?" Leola asked, needing someone to tell her.

"He is married, Leola, and he is not your kind," Krystyna said simply. "It can only lead to trouble. For you. For everyone."

Now she understood why Jeremiah hated Aaron. Jeremiah knew and was powerless to do anything about the seduction of his own daughter. It must have been awful for him.

"Promise me you will try to keep out of Mister Aaron's way," Krystyna implored. She placed a hand on Leola's shoulder, felt it quiver under her touch.

"But what if he makes me?"

Krystyna remembered what Aaron had said to her when he had apologized. "Has he before?"

Leola shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "He makes me want it."

"Then he will not force you now. Mister Aaron is not like that. He is not a man to force his will." He has none, Krystyna added silently. What Aaron had was a craving for acceptance by pretty women. He had a woman who would have given him her very soul, but she wasn't beautiful and, for Aaron, her adoration wasn't enough. "Think what it would do to your mother and father if they knew," Krystyna said.

"My Pa'd kill me dead," Leola whispered.

"I do not think so," Krystyna told her quietly. "Your father is a good man. He would understand." Whether he will forgive her is another story, she thought. "But he would be very, very hurt."

She glanced up as she heard a noise in the hallway. Lucinda was coming out of her room, her face still flushed.

Does she suspect what is going on between her husband and Leola? Krystyna wondered. "You be a good girl, Leola, and remember what I have said to you." She indicated the stairs with her eyes. In her present state, Leola only had to look at Lucinda and the secret would be out. Krystyna wanted her gone before Lucinda approached.

"I will tell no one," Krystyna promised again. Leola smiled weakly at her before she fled.

Chapter Twenty Two

Lucinda turned pale when she saw Krystyna walking toward her. What could she say to her after she'd seen the soldier sleeping in the cabin? Lucinda knew she looked flustered, and she was afraid her very appearance would give her away. She had already decided that whatever Krystyna's reasons were for keeping the man there, they would be good. Krystyna was incapable of doing anything wrong.