The Diamond King

by Patricia Potter

  Dark settled around them, pitch black, since not even moonlight filtered through the heavy foliage. Jenna changed position slightly, but stayed where she was. So did Burke.

  At some point, she went to sleep. She wakened in the thick, almost sodden air. Each time it took her a few seconds to realize where she was. And she would look down at the shadow that was Alex, and touch him lightly so as not to wake him while making sure he was still there.

  His body was still warm, but not as feverishly hot as it had been. The chills had not returned.

  Please let him get well.

  One time she heard Burke moving about and felt his gaze on her though she saw nothing but shadows. He did not say anything and yet there was a quiet but strong understanding between the two of them. They did not need words.

  Then her eyes closed again.

  She woke to a gray dawn stretching across the sky. Burke was sleeping not far away. She looked down, and found Alex staring up at her. She touched his forehead. Still slightly warm but nothing like earlier.

  He caught her hand. “You should not be here,” he said.

  “I could not stay away.”

  His dark eyes had more life in them than hours ago. “I do not want you to get ill. You should leave.”

  “No.”

  His lips twisted into a small smile. “Have you always been this stubborn?”

  “Nay,” she replied. “Just since I met you. You seem to bring it out of me.”

  He sighed, and she knew it took every ounce of his strength to even talk. Still, he looked better than he had.

  “Can you eat?”

  “Aye,” he said; then looking a little surprised, he said again, “Aye.”

  “Then you are getting better.”

  “It was your warmth last night,” he said.

  “You remember that?”

  “Aye,” he said slowly. “I felt your warmth coming into me. You would not let me go.”

  She swallowed hard.

  He moved and she saw him wince. She took his hand and held it tight. She felt the pressure of his fingers against hers, and the pressure comforted her. There was strength left in his body.

  “Burke brought something last night. I think the priest sent it.”

  He gave her a weak grin. “Then I am not so sure I am hungry after all.”

  She touched his cheek. “Aye, you are.” She gently untangled her fingers from his and directed her attention to Burke. “You brought food?”

  He grimaced. “Some might say so.” He unwrapped something and handed it to her.

  It was some kind of hard bread along with a strip of cooked meat. She wondered if it was snake, but she was not going to ask. Instead, she returned to the captain’s side and offered it to him. He took it and chewed slowly, each bite obviously an effort.

  She watched him force one bite after another. Each seemed to take more strength than he had but he tried until his hand fell to his side.

  “Some water?”

  “Aye.”

  She cradled his head with her arm, holding it high enough to allow him to drink better. He gulped it down.

  “How … how did you get here?”

  “I walked,” she said simply.

  He chuckled. It was a weak chuckle, but a chuckle, nonetheless.

  “You do feel better,” she observed with satisfaction.

  “Aye, but then I could not have felt worse,” he said.

  “I noticed,” she said. “I was worried about you.”

  “You should worry about yourself, lass.”

  She smiled at the word he chose. There was an odd intimacy in it, an admission perhaps of all the small—and large—steps they had taken together.

  “I do,” she assured him. “But it seems your life and … health is important to my own.”

  He flinched. “This Murray … you did not like him?”

  “I liked him very much,” she said.

  “He blamed you—”

  “Nay, he blamed me for nothing.”

  “Then why …?”

  “I told him I loved someone else.”

  She saw the information register in his face. “You cannot.”

  “One does not choose whom they love or do not love,” she said.

  He closed his eyes. He was denying her words. Refusing to accept them. After a moment, he opened them again. “Where are we?”

  “We are a day away from Vitória,” she said. “Your … companions doubt the British can track us. But they are taking precautions.”

  “Burke?”

  “He’s here.”

  “The money?”

  “He has it,” she assured him.

  He sighed wearily as if he had exhausted all his strength in those few questions.

  “Rest,” she said.

  “We have to get back to the ship.”

  At least it was “we” now, Jenna thought. “Not yet. Get some rest, and we will start tomorrow.” She took his hand in hers, surprised that his fingers tightened around hers.

  But he was weak. Ill.

  Tomorrow? When he gained strength?

  She would not let herself think that he would not touch her when fully returned to himself. That he again would become the loner that he seemed to take such pride in.

  At the moment, she did not care. All she wanted was to see those blue eyes fill with the light and stubbornness and curiosity that had so attracted her. She wanted to see him stride impatiently across the jungle paths to the deck of his ship.

  She would sacrifice anything to see that happen.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The chills returned. Alex shivered, but they were not followed this time by the violent shaking. The cycle that had so racked him was changing, the intensity fading.

  He woke to find Jenna sleeping in his arms again, and tried to keep from moving. Her warmth seeped through their clothes and it was life-giving to him.

  But more than her body warmth was life-giving.

  She made him want to live, to fight to live.

  Even in the dirty, muddy trousers and shirt she wore, her hair gathered into a braid that fell over her shoulder, she looked beautiful. Even with the weakness that sapped his body, he felt a surge of desire deep within him. He would have believed that impossible a few days ago.

  He wanted her in so many ways. He’d been startled to see her, but then not completely surprised. That was the most amazing thing of all. He had come to expect the unexpected from her.

  Inside, she was every bit the adventurer that he was, and knowing that she had sacrificed marriage and a family and security for him was humbling.

  He just was not sure that he could give her what she wanted, what she needed, what she deserved.

  He did not know whether he could ever stop running, ever stop trying to wreak vengeance on the British. And now that a peace treaty had been reached, he would be hunted across the British empire.

  She deserved more than that.

  She stirred, sleepy eyes opening and looking at him, comprehension slowly dawning, then they lit with delight. She raised one of her hands to touch his face.

  Too late, he thought of the danger involved. “You should not be so close, lass,” he said. “I would not want you to get this illness.”

  “You are better,” she said. “And the priest said it does not spread from one person to another.”

  He shivered slightly, but it was nothing like the cold he’d felt before. “I am not so sure of that,” he said. But the fingers of his right hand found hers, and wrapped around them.

  “You should have gone with the Englishman,” he said. “You would be safe. From the British, from this forest; from illness.”

  “But my heart wouldn’t be safe,” she said softly, uncertainty in her eyes, her voice.

  He had no reassurance for her. He could never have reassurance for her. He’d given up on his own life months ago, even years ago. It was not self-pity but awareness that he was a marked man, in more ways than one. He’d been
scarred on his face and leg, and in his heart. He did not think he could ever care for someone as much as Jenna should be cared for. Protected. Loved. He had blocked out feelings for so long that he did not know how to feel any longer. He felt a thousand years old, and he did not know how long it might be before he totally lost the use of his leg. A French doctor had said …

  “Your heart would be safer elsewhere,” he said.

  “It doesn’t understand that,” she replied.

  “You can go back. You’ve given me the message. One of the bandeirantes will take you. You can live well and have many children.”

  “Mr. Murray has some problems of his own,” she said. “He may not be there long.”

  He tried to understand that. From what little he knew, her prospective husband was a wealthy plantation owner, wellborn and well situated.

  “His wife was a quadroon,” she said. “He—and his children—are not accepted in Barbados.”

  He was stunned. He knew what the word meant. He knew what it would mean in English society, even the English society on a faraway island. No wonder Murray had wanted a bride he’d never met, or one who had never met him.

  “Your luck is none too good, my lady.” He could not keep a cool note from his voice. So that was the reason she had come for him. The marriage planned for her was unsuitable. At least the man was honest enough to explain it.

  She withdrew her hand from his grasp and moved away. “Do you think that is why I came to you? Because he’d married a quadroon?”

  “It was not exactly what you had expected, was it?” He wanted to think the worst of her. He did not want to think she would have come all this way just for him. He did not want that.

  Fire lit her eyes. She was clearly furious.

  “Nay,” she said. “It was not what I had expected. I had not expected to like him. But I did. I had not expected to admire him, but I do. He had the courage to marry the woman he loved. He had the fortitude to take the censure of his neighbors to raise his children alone after she died. He did not let fear rule his life. Which makes Mr. Murray a far better man than you.”

  He felt the contempt in her voice and it was far worse than the illness that had so recently plagued his body. He wanted to see joy in her expression again.

  I had not expected to like him. The Englishman could offer her more than he could. And there were children.

  Jenna loved children.

  “Why did you come here?” He thought he had asked the question before, but the previous hours were a haze in his mind. Had he asked or had he dreamed?

  “I told you, I had to let you know about the peace treaty. I feared you would walk into their arms.”

  “Mickey could have done that.”

  “Mickey could not have gotten to Vitória on his own,” she said coolly. “The Ami could not return without being endangered. The Portuguese trader that brought me did so because I was a woman in need.”

  He felt loss at the distance she—or had it been himself—put between them. He had hurt her with his implied accusation. Hadn’t he meant to do that? Was not that the best? Would the Englishman not be the best for her, particularly if she liked him?

  She did not like him at the moment.

  He closed his eyes. It was best to leave it here. She could still go back. She could still have a future.

  When the priest returned, he looked at a sleeping Alex and nodded. “He is better. Good. We must go,” he said.

  Jenna looked at him. “The British?”

  “Aye, with Portuguese officials who are none too happy at the prospect of losing some of their diamonds. Tomas has been watching several miles down the trail.”

  “He is not strong enough yet.”

  “He must go,” the priest said again.

  “He can do it,” Burke said.

  “They are not far behind,” the priest warned.

  She started to lean over but Burke reached Alex first. “I will get him ready,” he said curtly.

  Jenna wondered why she heard hostility in his voice. She did not think he had heard their earlier conversation, or had he? Had he, too, believed she was fleeing a marriage because of the man’s children?

  But now was no time to argue. If the British caught Alex, he would hang. She knew that.

  She watched helplessly as he shook Alex awake, as Alex opened his eyes. His gaze went to Burke, then to her, and finally to the priest. “Something is wrong.”

  “I thought we were safe,” she said.

  The priest shrugged. “Someone said something they should not have said. I will find out when I return.”

  David Murray was her first thought. He knew she was meeting someone. He must have guessed it was the privateer captain.

  But she could not quite believe that of him. He could have stopped her then and there. He could have sent soldiers after her before she reached the forest.

  Alex’s eyes were asking the same question.

  “Nay,” she said.

  He did not question the protest. Instead, he tried to rise. He had been cool a moment earlier, but just the effort of trying to stand made his forehead bead with perspiration. A groan ripped from his throat as he placed an arm around Burke’s shoulder. “I can … make it,” he told the priest.

  The priest nodded.

  “Can they really find us in here?” Jenna asked.

  “They have trackers, too, senhorita. Tomas can try to cover our tracks but we must move swiftly.”

  She started to protest. Alex did not appear as if he could go two steps, much less across a dense forest.

  “We can go by canoe much of the way,” the priest said. “Then we can lose them.”

  Alex turned to her. “You can stay here. They will find you.”

  “Along with the snakes and jaguars and other animals,” she said. “Nay.”

  He looked frustrated. “You can say you escaped.”

  She gave him a disgusted look, then turned around. “Father, I’m ready.”

  He looked from her to Alex. “Captain?”

  “Aye, I can make it,” he said.

  The priest nodded, then started walking. Alex took his arm away from Burke and motioned toward a stick on the ground. Burke picked it up and handed it to him, and Alex leaned heavily on it. He took a step and stayed on his feet. Just barely but he managed. She allowed him and Burke to go first, then followed.

  They reached a river within an hour. Alex saw two canoes as they approached the wide expanse of water. If they had any farther to go, he would not have made it. As it was, he was using the very last of his strength.

  He was hot again. Very hot, and his face was dripping. He knew by now it was a prelude to the chills.

  He also knew that when they reached the river, the danger would be great, even without his illness. There were fierce rapids, even fiercer fish that could tear a piece of meat into shreds within minutes. Alligators.

  Why hadn’t she agreed to wait for their pursuers? He had hoped that his behavior would have made her do so.

  There were two canoes, canoes that he remembered they had used earlier. He had lost all sense of time and place in the past several days. It seemed they had been walking forever. He leaned against a tree, but his gaze went around their small group. Their guide was as impassive as ever. Mickey was grumpy as always, and Burke … well, he was Burke, wary and always watching both his back and Alex’s.

  And then there was Jenna. When he had first seen her a month ago, he would never have conceived of her tramping through the jungle in trousers and shirt that were too large. Because of the heat, she had tied the shirt around her waist. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes were as bright as he had ever seen them as they surveyed the expanse of the river.

  She truly loved adventure.

  But had he destroyed her life as he had destroyed his own by siding with a prince he knew could not win? His heart had lead him to fight. It had been his brain that had told him a rebellion was fruitless. He was trying to listen to his brain ag
ain. He was trying to ignore his heart.

  With assistance, he stepped into one of the canoes and sat in its bow.

  Jenna sat at the other end. Tomas and the priest took the paddles. Burke, Mickey, Marco, and the silent guide took the second canoe.

  The sun was overhead as they glided into the river and headed downstream. Mosquitos and other insects were thick. His clothes had dried on him but now they were wet again and had stiffened with dirt. He looked at Jenna. Her gaze was not on him but the trees. She exclaimed as she saw something and pointed it out to him. A parrot. He’d seen many in the past days, but this must be her first. He had to smile at the sheer delight of her exclamation.

  If anything happened to her, it would be his doing. He wondered whether he could live with that knowledge.

  Jenna had watched as Alex settled painfully into the end of the canoe, careful not to rock it. She had taken the priest’s hand and stepped gingerly into the boat. It seemed very fragile and unsteady to her. Still, there seemed no choice.

  But in moments, she lost some of her fear and looked along the banks of the river. She saw a lazing alligator, the heavy growth of trees, even chattering monkeys. Then a vividly colored bird scolded them for disturbing him.

  She had noticed little on their journey from Vitória. The way had been difficult and it had been all she could do to keep up with the others, to bear the heat and the insects. But now she could look to her heart’s content, enchanted by what she saw.

  Often she would catch Alex watching her with bemusement and something else in his eyes. He no longer had the ability to veil them as he had had when she’d first met him. She saw flashes of desire there, even though she knew she must be the worst-looking female in the world.

  A tiny seed of satisfaction settled in her. He was not as indifferent as he wanted her to believe.

  She turned back to gaze at the unfamiliar and exotically beautiful if often treacherous forest. She felt as if her heart was in the same forest.

  Over the past hours, she had been alternately furious at and in awe of Alex. She saw the moisture gather on his brows and face, heard the hard breathing, saw the agony with which he took every step, yet he never asked to rest. It was that part of him that had so attracted her. Most of the men she’d met in her old life were dandies or officers in impeccable red coats who preened and bragged incessantly.