Moonlight Rebel (7 page)

She was alone in a strange, barbaric land. The hopelessness of her situation struck her like a knife slashing through the dark. "I have no friends," she said bitterly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. You have me." He smiled at her, and received no response. "Can you ride?" He looked down at her. She was a full foot shorter than he was, and as far as he could see, she looked rather frail, although full breasted. The only women he knew who rode horseback used sidesaddles.

She was about to say yes, she could ride very well, thank you, but then she thought better of it. An idea, born of desperation, came to her.

"No," she told him. She didn't like the smile that came to his
lips. It is too patronizing, she thought, just as he is.

"That's all right, I'll be riding behind you. I won't let you fall. Let me just set you on this animal, and I'll get on back." He scooped her up in his arms, and she caught herself thinking that he handled her very gently for a man his size. "Here; hold onto this." He handed her the reins.

Then he walked around to the side of the horse, but as he lifted his leg to get a foot in the stirrup, Krystyna dug her heels into the horse's flanks and slapped its neck with the reins. Jason fell backward and was sent sprawling as the horse galloped off.

"Why you little-"

He didn't waste any more words as he picked himself up. With two fingers in his mouth, he let out two short, sharp whistles, and the horse came to a halt. Krystyna gasped and grabbed onto the dark brown mane to keep from flying over the stallion's head. As she looked at the horse in horror, it turned around and trotted back to its master. She glared down at Jason's smug face.

"I ought to tan your hide," he told her, but his anger was already cooling. Though he was having a lot of difficulty understanding what was going on in her head, he found himself intrigued enough to want to find out. For him, that was a new experience.

Krystyna looked at him blankly. She didn't understand what he had said. To her, tanning was something that was done to the skins of animals. She thought he meant to skin her for her action. That would be in keeping with his kind.

She made no apology to him as he took the horse's reins and looked up at her, obviously waiting for her to say something. She had just wanted to escape. She did not know where she would have gone, but she had wanted to be free. Of him, of what she was feeling inside right now. Of the terrible pain of seeing her father slain before her eyes. She knew by what the man said that he meant to take her home. God only knew what lay ahead for her after that.

"Where did you think you were going?" Jason finally asked when she said nothing.

"Away." The word was said with effort. She didn't want to answer him.

"To where?" he wanted to know. "Do you have people here?"
She shook her head in response and colored considerably as he laughed. She knew he was laughing at her, and she had always hated the condescending attitude men took with women. He shook his head. "You're going to need a keeper."

She looked at him defiantly. "I am no one's property."

"You don't have to worry about that." Jason swung himself into the saddle behind her and took the reins firmly in his hands. Krystyna felt the warm press of his hard body against hers. The sensation made her uncomfortably warm. She tried to put it out of her mind. "You're not anyone's property, just as you said."

"Then why are you taking me with you?" she challenged.

"Because," he began, amused at her tone of voice. This was no ordinary little waif he had found. He could tell by the way she spoke, accent and all, that this was someone used to giving orders and having them obeyed. "If I left you here, you'd be back in the same position I found you in a little while
ago — struggling to get out from underneath some lusty male."

The truth made her shift uncomfortably, even more than this awkward position of riding double. "I did not thank you for that," she murmured quietly.

"No," he agreed. "You didn't."

She could almost feel his smile. And she did feel his breath, warm and steady, against the crown of her head. "You are not making this easy."

He knew that, but couldn't resist asking the obvious. "Why, aren't you used to thanking people?"

For a long moment, she remained silent. Then, because manners demanded it, she said, "That was very kind of you to help me — and to bury my father."

Pity flooded him. "Why did they kill him?"

Krystyna hesitated. She couldn't trust him yet. She didn't know anything about him, other than the fact that he was good looking and strong. No, she wouldn't let herself be lulled into dropping her guard. Her father had, and look where he was now. "I do not know."

"Because of the money?" he guessed.

She jumped at the excuse. "Yes. They must have found out about the money. The tall one sailed with us, and his friend met him at the dock. Somehow, they must have known."

Jason didn't quite know whether to believe her. She spoke too rapidly, as if her words set forth a lie that was coming to her. Or perhaps it was just her accent. He guided the horse to the left, working on instincts long burned into his brain.

"Where do you come from?" he asked again. When she still didn't answer, he shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll just tell my father I bought you from a trader."

She felt her anger rise. She wanted to face this man, this barbarian. She twisted in the saddle. The motion caused her to brush against his chest. She wanted as little contact with him as was humanly possible. With effort, she held herself still. "No!" After a moment, she relented. She tried to imagine where he was taking her and what would happen once they arrived. "Will your father be angry?"

"Over my bringing home a beautiful woman? No." Jason laughed. "Never over that. He's quite a man, my father. Always says there's room for one more at the table. He won't mind my bringing home a ragged princess."

Jason noted that she stiffened slightly at the title. Could he have hit closer to home than he'd thought? Well, she would tell him by and by, when she was ready.

By now he was acutely aware of her sitting astride the horse, neatly nestled between his legs, her rump forced to rub against his inner thighs with each step the horse took. Without meaning to, Jason had allowed himself to be opened up to a cornucopia of sensations and feelings. Despite her disheveled appearance, the woman before him smelled of wild flowers. The tangled veil of black hair shone in the bright moonlight, and her form rocked against him. He wasn't surprised to find himself wondering what it would be like to hold her in his arms. To make wild, passionate love to her. There was passion there. He had seen it in her eyes. What would it be like, to have that passion directed toward him? He made a promise to himself that someday, soon, he would find out.

She seemed to be almost oblivious to him. He felt a challenge forming. He wanted nothing more than to seduce her, to hear her cry his name as he filled her. But then he admonished himself for his thoughts. She had been through a great deal today. She had lost her father, had nearly been abducted and who knew what else? She was obviously hiding something, and just as obviously afraid to trust anyone. He could
see she was of good family. They would have had to have been
wealthy to have had their daughter taught a foreign language. And her hands, he noted, glancing down at her thighs where they rested, were soft. Only the rich could have pampered hands like that. Like his sister, Savannah.

Like Charity. He almost laughed. How much more exciting this Krystyna seemed to him than Charity. Charity was like a pampered doll. The woman he had rescued tonight had life and fire to her. Charity had only empty, vapid thoughts and desires that no longer intrigued him. Who knew, perhaps he had caught himself a princess. All he knew was that he had one hell of a beautiful woman before him.

Her voice, soft, melodic, without a waver to it, broke the stillness. "What is your name?"

"What?" Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard her. Jason bent his head closer to her.

His breath was on her cheek, and she shivered. Why? she asked herself. She certainly was not cold, not with his body pressed so closely about her. In addition, his arms encircled her in case, she surmised, she had any ideas of leaping off the horse and running away. He needn't have worried. She was not about to do that again. They were riding straight into the woods. She had a fear of getting lost in the forest at night.

"Your name," she repeated. "I do not know your name."

So, she has curiosity. They were making slow progress. "Jason," he told her. "Jason McKinley."

"McKinley," she repeated softly. Her voice was answered by
the hoot of an owl. She strove not to shiver.

It sounds like a song, he thought, when she says it. He longed to hear her repeat his given name. "Yes, it's Welsh, although there's a lot of Irish in our family and my father's part Scottish as well."

But Krystyna wasn't listening. She was rolling his surname over in her mind. McKinley. McKinley. Wasn't that the name of the man her uncle had been working for?

"Did you recently have an overseer who died?" she asked suddenly.

Her question caught him totally off guard. Was she a witch? He felt her body rocking against him. No, this was a flesh-and-blood woman, he'd stake his immortal soul on that. Then how did she know? She had admitted to being a stranger.

"We had one who disappeared. Damn strange, really. Jan wasn't the kind of man who'd do something like that. He was expecting his brother to come and join him, soon. Talked about nothing else." Jason stopped abruptly. "Was that his brother?" he asked. "Your father, was he his brother?" he repeated when she gave no answer.

Krystyna did a quick reevaluation of the situation. She decided to risk telling him the truth. She needed to find out just how much he did know about them. "Yes. My father said that Uncle Jan had secured a position for him on the plantation."

Jason wondered why the old man hadn't said anything about her to his father. Jan had only talked about his brother coming. "He made no mention of a niece."

"Women are not important where I come from," she lied. Her uncle had made no mention of her on her father's request. If no one knew she was coming, they could not search for her here.

It was a pretty universal attitude. Still... "I can't see anyone thinking you unimportant," Jason muttered under his breath.

The remark pleased her, even though it was only words coming from a barbarian. "Did Uncle Jan tell you why my father was coming?" she prodded.

"For his health, I think my father said." The irony of the remark struck him. The man would have been better off staying where he was. "Why?"

"No reason. I just wondered." Krystyna tried to keep her voice casual as she asked, "When did he . . . disappear?" She turned in the saddle, trying to see his expression.

Jason caught her profile. His eyes strayed to her lips. They looked warm, inviting. Perhaps he should have taken Eileen up on her invitation at the tavern. Then his mind would have been clearer. He had a feeling he needed his wits about him with this woman.

"About two weeks ago. One morning, he was just gone. His things were there, but he had disappeared from the plantation. Jeremiah thought he saw him going off with a couple of men the night before, heading toward his cabin. That was the last anyone ever saw of him."

"Jeremiah?" Krystyna repeated slowly. God, these Americans had strange sounding names.

"One of our slaves," Jason clarified.

"Then you do own people." Her throat tightened as she thought of the "document" Jason held, giving him rights over her.

"I don't. My father does, and I'm not about to get into a discussion with you on that subject. We hear enough of both sides at the prayer meetings."

She didn't answer him. She was too busy trying to sort out the things he had just said to her. Krystyna was more worried than ever about her situation. Uncle Jan was probably dead, just as that awful man had said. That left her entirely alone with no one to help her, except possibly Thaddeus. But who knew when he would come, and even if he did, how would he find her? This America was so big, it was a wonder anyone ever found anything or anyone in it.

They rode in silence, each thinking, each preoccupied with a puzzle, the pieces of which had been supplied by the other person, until they arrived at a small clearing. Within the circle of his arms, Krystyna had begun to bob a little from side to side, and Jason guessed that she was falling asleep. He took pity on her and decided that this was as good a place as any to stop for the night.

He pulled on the reins, and she awoke with a start as the horse came to a halt. "Are we here?" Sleep encroaching on her brain, making everything hazy, she looked around, dazed. They were still in the forest. Disappointment filled her.

Something dark scurried into the trees not more than five feet away. Krystyna caught her breath. Her eyes remained glued to the spot as she allowed Jason to help her off the horse.

"No, I thought you might like to lie down for a few hours." Jason untied the bedroll from the back of his saddle. "You look totally worn out."

"I am tired," she admitted, guessing at his meaning. Not everything had been covered in those lessons of hers. Her teacher had been a man who learned English from an American so she had gotten her idioms third hand. The gap in her education was evident to her as she listened to Jason.

She watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground and then gestured toward it. "Thank you."

Satisfied that she had been taken care of, Jason leaned against a tree, his musket spread across his knees, ready for whatever might come.

"Are you going to sleep like that?" Exhausted, Krystyna lay down on the ground. She was too tired to notice that it was hard.

"Just catnap," he answered. "Never know what could be around. You get all the sleep you can. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

No one heard his words but the night animals. Krystyna
was already asleep. Jason smiled to himself as he watched her.