The Bargain (2 page)

He yawned. "No, Esther. Nice lady saved people."

Her heavy heart warmed. Clara was good to read to both of them from her Bible. It wasn't strange anymore. And more often than not, it had begun to bring comfort. "Yes, Esther was brave."

He nodded and shut his eyes. "Yes, brave."

Before she could blink, his snores sounded again.

With a shake of her head, she crossed to the window and cracked it open. The sweet air slipped in freezing her tear-stained cheek. She wiped her face and inhaled the hint of flowers stirring in the breeze. Looking down, she saw something that looked like an aloe plant with bunches of yellow blooms. That had to be the source of the fragrance. The freshness, that scent of hope, would help Jonas claim all the naps he'd missed yesterday.

She tiptoed back to the door, took a final sniff and let her gaze fall again on the child. That boy had her heart. She'd never allow her foolishness to harm him again. Having a careless stepmother was like spilled kerosene falling on a lit match. The blaze would consume everything. "I won't put you in that kind of danger again, sweet boy. Never."

"Sleep, Mammie Mama."

Mama.
With a sad huff, Precious closed the door. It would be so easy to claim him, for she loved him as if she'd birthed him. But Jonas was Gareth's and dear Eliza's.
 

Tomorrow, Precious had to be firm with Jonas and herself. She couldn't covet the child or make it harder for him to accept someone else more proper for a stepmother.
 

As soon as Gareth figured his way out of this crisis with the Xhosa, he could concentrate on finding a mama for Jonas. One who read really well like Mrs. Narvel, and could hold her head high in Port Elizabeth with no scars from the past.

She swiped again at her wet cheek and weak eyes. Her body must still be feeling the effects of the snake venom for surely she wasn't given to such emotions.
 
The lack of sleep didn't help. Rest didn't come last night. Over and over, her traitorous mind repeated Gareth's proposal and showed the light dim in his blue eyes when she said, 'no'.
 

Tempted to bang her forehead against the door, she stood up straight. Why would he ask a formerly enslaved servant to be his baroness? What was in it for him?

And what if for one moment, she could dream and said yes?
 

Would being able to his accept his kisses without feeling like they were sneaking outweigh the sneers of the town folk when they rode side by side in a wagon or again boarded the Margeaux? Would it cover the shame of her scars, the reminder she saw etched in her flesh every time she washed?

Nonsense. This thinking of marrying. No one could accept or forgive her humiliation. And how could she be thinking about becoming attached to Eliza's husband. That just wasn't right. Eliza had saved her. Though gone for two years, didn't she owe her more loyalty than to make eyes at her husband? Shameful.

Shrugging in hopelessness, Precious swiveled and pivoted into Gareth. Colliding into his big chest, she smashed a cheek on the buttons of his jacket. She forgot herself and clung to him. But those big strong arms of his didn't move to embrace her back.

"Precious, is all well?"

Frozen, she continued to lean into him, smelling every inch of his starched shirt, with its hints of the pine soap he used. The beat of his heart danced like it had last night. Still, he didn't move, didn't put one of those well-muscled arms about her.
 

"Has something happened, Precious? Tell me."

Sinking deeper into the want filling his perfect blue gaze, she stood still. What could she say to him? She'd turned down his proposal. How could she ask him to hold her and make the world seem right?
 

Her throat clogged with a sob. She couldn't even grunt past the lump of shame filling her mouth. She wanted Eliza's husband, needed to be kissed by grown up lips. Ones that knew all kinds of words, big ones, small ones, ones that made her heart burn within her bosom.

He stroked her cheek. His thumb lightly brushed its fullness, and then lifted her jaw. "Precious?"

Her eyes closed as she surrendered to his touch. Suddenly, she blinked away the darkness, remembered herself and pulled back.

His hand moved. Cool air swept around her as he stepped away. "You still don't know what you want, Precious. But I do. I have a colony to save."

Save? That meant he would put himself in danger. She pulled at her shawl and spun around catching sight of his straight spine as he descended the stairs. "Wait."

He unbolted the door, and tapped at the brass as if he counted the reasons why he should wait and listen versus leaving. Finally, opening the door, he lifted his foot to go outside.

"Gareth, please don't go."

He dipped his head and pushed the door closed. He pivoted. "I'm listening."

"Mrs. Narvel. The baby hasn't turned."

The blank veneer of his face slipped. His clear blue eyes hardened. "That's it?"
 

She nodded.
 

"If that's your only caution, dismiss it. There's still plenty of time. The babe will find the right way."

Precious chewed her bottom lip. She was a guilty coward for making him feel unwanted and not telling him how she felt. She tugged on her collar and straightened. "No one listened to me when I said Miss Eliza was in trouble. I'm telling you that baby should've turned by now."
 

A harsh sigh blasted from his flared nostrils. He looked to the ceiling and whipped a hand through his thick hair. "I've checked on her. The babe and Mrs. Narvel will keep until I get back in a few days."

He was going away, and not for just a couple of hours. Did rejection push him out of his wits? Did he want to make a wife out of Precious that much?

Gareth stared at the most frustrating woman of his acquaintance and counted the shallow breaths filling her bosom. Goodness, why did she have to be so stubborn and beautiful with that flared nose of hers? Those full lips tucked into a dot. She needn't make herself ill over Mrs. Narvel when there were other things like the Xhosa tribe pushing everyone into the bay cutting the life out of Port Elizabeth. Those were things to fear.
 

He sighed, spread his legs apart and held to attention, as if he addressed an admiral. "I have to leave. I will return in three days."

"Three days." Her eyes grew big like saucers. They showed fear, an emotion he didn't think the brave girl possessed.
 

What was going on in her head? Gareth had never understood Eliza or any other female. He shrugged and rotated to the door.

She sped her steps behind him. Her fingers clasped onto his rapier slowing his exit. "No, don't go. I…We need you here."

He half pivoted as he slid her palms from the fennel of his blade. "What are you doing?"

She shook her head hysterically, but that wasn't Precious. "You are not listening."

Tapping away her fingers, he almost smiled. Maybe he wasn't listening. It was hard to do as he watched the same lips that had turned him away. "You don't touch a man's greatest weapon, unless you're prepared to use it."

Those eyes, lovely and dark, swirled and popped wider. She pulled her hands back and tucked them beneath her grey shawl. "Babies don't follow a schedule."
 

"Then you will know what to do. You've told me again and again you don't need me, Precious Jewell. Why start now?"

Her voice sounded strangled. "So now you are leaving me just like you did with Eliza?"

Oh, the girl knew how to throw a dagger to the heart. Maybe he should just give her his rapier too and let her finish him. He pushed at his hair and tried to come up with a softer way to reply. This could be their last meeting. Anything could happen in the wild. He opened his mouth, but the pout hanging on her frowning lips stripped away his caution. "Woman, this isn't the same. I've a colony to save. And why would Port Elizabeth matter to you? Eliza only cared because she was my wife. What is your reason?"

Her gaze lowered. "Because I do, and I want to help you. But stay. Let's keep Mrs. Narvel safe then—"

"No. Not good enough. I'll see you in three days."

She sprang forward again and clasped his arm creasing the sleeve of his blue jacket. "Where are you going? At least tell me that."

"To the blacksmith now and then off to the inland settlements. The chief's daughter is part Dutch. They may be hiding there."

She nodded, grasped him by the coat lapel. Face to face, gaze to gaze, he saw fury and hurt and something else in those magical irises of hers. Breathing heavy and long as if he'd stolen the air from her lungs, she crossed the inches that separated them and kissed his cheek. Turning, she fled and almost tripped as she ran up the stairs.
 

With a shake of the head, he trudged out of the house and stood on the short portico, if one could call it that. He rested his hand on the thin beam that held up the smallish roof. Gareth needed to calm his thoughts. His notion to pretend he wasn't affected by her refusal of his proposal hadn't gone so well. Yes, he burned inside from her rejection as he had last night.
 

Any one other than that stubborn American would understand the honor he bestowed upon her. Any one else would be appreciative, and respond in kind.
 

But not Precious. She didn't give a whit, and that was one of the reasons he cared so much for her. That's why he…

Gareth sucked in a breath, but the air must've sputtered out of his pierced chest. The gaping hole to his vanity held nothing inside. Good thing he was as stubborn as Precious. Yes, far too stubborn to admit painstakingly obvious things.
 

He shook his head, clearing it of Precious and the fearful look in her eyes. Time to be about the mission, something he had a better chance to control. He pounded off the portico and started down the road to Dennis's shop and the accompanying stables.

Funny, if she'd said yes last night or even now to marrying, he'd be hauling her down to Dennis's with the family ring. They'd be married in minutes just as if they'd eloped to Gretna Green in England.
 

He sighed. It wasn't to be. The woman who just kissed his cheek, who clutched his arm and his rapier like it was a rope keeping her from drifting away, didn't need him.
 

Stubborn girl. If she'd said yes, at least he'd know she'd be protected if he died during this hunt for the missing Xhosa chief. No, she had to take that notion from him, too.
 

He almost looked back at the solid door of his whitewashed house as thoughts of the stubborn, foolhardy, lovely woman continued to press. "Well, I better return in one piece."

Footsteps pattered behind. He spun around hoping to see Precious there, hoping she'd come to her senses.
 

She hadn't. It was just Mr. Grossling, the war department officer.

A thousand pounds of disappointment crushed his innards, but Gareth strengthened his voice. "Grossling, are you looking for me?"

The man pulled a pistol from his pocket.

Before he could aim it, Gareth drew his rapier and forced the tip at the fool's neck. "What are you doing?"

Grossling's Adam's apple vibrated, shaking the rapier, causing it to nick his weak flesh leaving red marks. The laggard cursed then said, "Easy captain. Let's lower our weapons."

Gareth didn't budge. In fact, he wished for the chance to cut something into shreds, just to feel fully in control. Yet, how would it look for the leader of Port Elizabeth to kill a denizen on its first street? He eased the pressure back on the sharpened iron but didn't withdraw his rapier. "Why don't you go first, and then I'll follow."

Grossling kept his gaze level, but lowered the gun and shoved the muzzle into his coat pocket. "I'm not trying to kill you, but I'll be ready when it's time to kill those Xhosa. You can count on me to help murder the heathens."

Putting his rapier back into his sash, he shook his head. "No. You will return to filling out your forms. The last thing I need is a trigger happy warrior. And when I say so, you will protect the colonists. That is your mission before you think about harming anyone."

 
Pushing at the small cut on his neck, Grossling worked his jaw. "Use that hot head of yours to kill the Xhosa."
 

"I'll use my temper to neutralize threats, all threats."

"Wouldn't that make you a threat to be neutralized?" Grossling followed up his words with a laugh full of bluster, as if the levity would take away his careless words. "Good day, Captain."

Something in Gareth's gut said watch that one, but he shrugged and set his focus on the impending problems with the Xhosa tribe. Fury still roiled in his innards as he headed again toward the blacksmith.
 

Boots crunching on pebbles and dried leaves, he stumbled forward.
 

The low breeze kicked up dust along the road. Specks of cinnamon and umber danced in the wind then settled back down on the road, Port Elizabeth's first road. He couldn't let it be the last.
 

With each footstep, he tried to discern his growing anger. Was it possible to vanish all the hard work and sacrifices to make a go of this place? That couldn't happen. Why couldn't Precious see Port Elizabeth as the reason he had to leave her?
 

Maybe Eliza told her of his inadequacies. With virile charismatic men like Mzwamadoda around, why should she want Gareth? Was it Gareth in Precious's mind when she kissed him or her brazen rescuer?
 

Gareth's fingers clenched as he shoved a fist into his pocket. The thought of Precious and Mzwamadoda burned a hole in his gut.
 

She should be grateful to Gareth. He always respected her regardless of the trouble her deep passions drove her to.
 

She should admire the enormity of the task at hand and support him without complaint.

She should ask him to spend time with her for her sake, not another woman.