Love Me, Marietta

by Jennifer Wilde

  “You’re trying to scare me, Mr. Bond.”

  “Reckon I am,” he admitted. “You’re supposed to shiver and throw yourself into my arms so I can be strong and protective.”

  “I don’t scare easily.”

  “I can see that, lass. You called me Mr. Bond again. Reckon you did it just to irritate me. You’re in an unusually skittish mood, I must say. Frisky as a colt.”

  “I feel very good. In spite of the way you manhandled me in the storm. You almost pulled my hair out.”

  “Had to grab something, lass.”

  “Thank you, Jeremy,” I said quietly. “I seem to be saying that an awful lot.”

  “I’m not complainin’.”

  “You saved my life. Again.”

  “You know, in China they have a belief that when you save a person’s life you’re responsible for that person from then on, responsible for his health and happiness and general well-being.”

  “We’re not Chinese, Mr. Bond, and you’re certainly not responsible for me in any way.”

  “Oh, but I am,” he replied.

  I turned to glance at him. He grinned, bouncing along beside me with his arms swinging, buckskin fringe bouncing, the bandana flapping at his neck. I felt the full force of that overwhelming charm that was so virile, so playful and boyish, and I wanted to smile. I didn’t, of course. I knew better than to give him any kind of encouragement, even though I might have enjoyed it. I continued walking, turning left as we reached the bottom of the hill and moving under the trees. Jeremy was silent, shortening his stride to match my own, and we were soon surrounded by willow trees, long, dangling strands of jade-green leaves brushing our arms.

  When we reached the mossy banks of a small, twisting river, I moved under one of the willows and leaned against the trunk, completely surrounded by dangling strands. Jeremy Bond parted them and joined me. Sunlight gilded the tiny green leaves, turning them a light, golden green. He smiled again, and I pretended to ignore him, acutely aware of his nearness, his smell, the masculine allure that was only enhanced by the rough clothes. I listened to the river that moved sluggishly, almost silently, and watched the long strands shimmer with sunlight as they swayed ever so slightly.

  I arched my back, rubbing it against the slender trunk, and my bosom rose, straining against the low-cut neckline. It wasn’t a deliberate provocation, but I saw the look in his eyes and saw how it affected him and immediately straightened up, folding my arms across my waist. Jeremy parted his lips, his blue eyes very intense, and the air around us seemed to crackle with sexual tension, something I certainly hadn’t planned. Or had I? I frowned, confused by the emotions inside. I didn’t want him. I was wary of him. I knew him for what he was, and I certainly didn’t intend to become involved with him, yet I was grateful, so very grateful for all he had done and when I was with him I seemed to be so marvelously alive.

  “Where did you learn to cook?” he inquired.

  “I was an indentured servant, surely you know that. I was a cook-housekeeper.”

  “On Hawke’s plantation?”

  I nodded, feeling a sharp twinge of pain, immediately banishing it. Jeremy seemed to be aware of it, and I could see that he was sorry he had asked. I had never known a man so sensitive to my moods, a man who seemed to know what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

  “I really can cook,” I told him, making it light.

  “I’ll bet you can.”

  “One day I’ll bake a pie for you.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Peach?”

  “If you like.”

  He leaned forward, placing his right palm on the trunk a few inches above my head, his chest almost touching me, his face inches from my own. I tilted my chin back, looking up at him, and I saw the soft roll of flesh beneath his jaw, creasing into a small double chin as he lowered his head with lips parted. He was going to kiss me, and I wanted him to, I suddenly wanted it very much. I placed my palms on his chest and, as his mouth covered mine, slipped them under the buckskin jacket and around his ribcage, letting them rest on his back. I could feel the muscles beneath the thin cotton shirt, could feel the warmth of his skin. I rubbed his back, yielding to the tenderness of his kiss:

  He kissed me for a very long time, lazily, savoring my lips, and I moved my hands over the smooth muscles of his shoulders and allowed myself to drift along a river of pleasure, floating without effort, the sweetness filling me as he made a moaning noise in his throat and drew me to him, lazy still, not at all hurried, kissing me without urgency because it was natural and right and both of us wanted it. I drifted, eyes closed, feeling sleepy and sweet, all my defenses gone, melted away. Jeremy lifted his head and looked into my eyes and kissed me once more, very lightly.

  “I love you, Marietta.”

  His voice was low, slightly husky, and his eyes told me the same thing. I felt a terrible confusion and indecision. I wanted him. I couldn’t begin to deny that. Every fiber of my being seemed to be drawn to him, to demand completion. The sweetness filled me and I yearned to submerge myself in his strength and warmth, to drift again on that lazy river of pleasure, but I knew it was wrong. It was not the man, it was my own hunger, my own need, and sexuality had little to do with it. For months I had known nothing but harsh brutality. I craved tender words, tender caresses, gentility, longed to relinquish my steelly control and lean on someone else, draw from strength not my own.

  My palms were still resting on his shoulders, beneath the jacket, and I wanted desperately to draw him closer and cling to him, wanted desperately to gather him to me and have his lips on mine again and lose myself in the sweetness. Confused, indecisive, I looked up into his eyes, and he understood everything and waited for me to make up my mind. He wasn’t going to press me. He wasn’t going to do anything I didn’t want him to do. I wanted it with all my heart and soul but knew it would be a mistake to give in to the yearning so urgent and demanding. I unwound my arms from him and leaned away, my shoulders pressing against the willow tree.

  “It wouldn’t be fair,” I whispered.

  “Fair?”

  “To you. I don’t love you. I never could. I’m grateful and I find you—appealing, but—”

  “I understand, Marietta.”

  “I—I’ve been through a great deal. I’m extremely vulnerable—”

  “I shan’t take advantage of that.”

  He stepped back and thrust his hands in the pockets of the pinkish-orange corduroy trousers that had once been tan. A gentle smile played on his mouth, and he was not at all angry, not at all perturbed. His rich, unruly brown hair tumbled over his brow. His blue eyes were tender, looking at me as they might look at a beloved child. The pale jade-green leaves shimmered in the sunlight, dangling-all around us in long, swaying strands. I looked at him, grateful for his understanding, and gradually the sleepy languor and the yearning ebbed and common sense returned. I sighed and straightened up. I had resisted temptation, and the temptation had been very strong indeed. The victory gave me no sense of satisfaction. I felt, instead, something that was very like disappointment.

  “Thank you, Jeremy,” I said. “Any other man would have pressed on.”

  “I’m very patient. I told you that. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until you see what’s in your own heart.”

  “Shall we return to the cave?”

  “Yes, I imagine the turkeys are roasted by now. I’m starving.”

  “So am I.”

  He grinned, relaxed, and took my hand and parted the strands of willow and led me away from the river, his manner extremely easygoing. He continued to hold my hand, squeezing it now and then, and I didn’t try to pull it free. Both of us were silent as we climbed up the hillside, but there was no strain whatsoever. I could smell the roast meat as we neared the cave. I realized I was weak from hunger, so hungry I couldn’t possibly wait any longer to eat something.

  “There you are!” Em exclaimed. “I was begi
nning to worry, luv.”

  “Is it ready?”

  “Cooked to perfection,” Randolph informed me, “and Corrie has already cut it into neat pieces and fetched some leaves for us to spread it on. Want a drumstick?”

  “Anything,” I said.

  He chuckled and handed me a large green leaf with a piece of turkey on it. I ate greedily, sitting on the ground with my back against the purple-gray rock wall. I had two more pieces after that and drank half a vessel of water and ate several handfuls of blackberries as well. It was the finest meal I had ever had.

  When the last piece of turkey had been devoured, when the blackberries were all gone and the water vessels empty, we sat for a few moments, replete and satisfied. Em gnawed a bone, finally, reluctantly, tossing it aside. Randolph climbed lazily to his feet and stepped over to the mouth of the cave, spreading his arms out and resting his palms on either side of the opening. The sunlight touched his straight golden-brown hair which was, I realized, actually very dark blond, golden-blond so dark it seemed almost brown.

  “Guess we’d better mosey on to the cove,” he remarked.

  “I couldn’t move an inch,” Em said.

  “Reckon we could make it before nightfall,” he continued, ignoring her remark. “We’ll have to press hard, though.”

  “I want a nap,” Em protested.

  “You can nap on the ship, gal. Up, up everyone! Let’s get stirring.”

  I could have used a nap myself, but I climbed wearily to my feet, reaching down to give Corrie a hand. Jeremy Bond picked up both bundles. Em’s rattled noisily. He gave her a nasty look as he slung it over his shoulder with mine. She smiled sweetly and told him that solid silver candlesticks would fetch over thirty pounds each in New Orleans. This bit of information failed to humor him one bit. He gave her another look and moved out of the cave, Randolph ahead of him. In a matter of minutes we had left cave and hillside behind and were wading across the shallow, sluggish river Jeremy and I had seen earlier. Em kept a sharp eye out for cannibals and eyed the river dubiously as we waded through it.

  “There’re alligators,” she informed me. “The Karankawas smear themselves with alligator grease to ward off mosquitoes and other stinging insects, so it stands to reason these waters are swarming with ’em.”

  “I’ll watch for them,” I said.

  The land was very marshy on the other side of the river, cypress and willow trees growing thickly along with other trees, much smaller, that Corrie identified as wild plums, pointing to the purple-red fruit hanging from the branches. We crossed several more rivers, one of them waist-deep, and circled around a number of small lakes. Exotic-looking birds rose in the air, fluttering enormous wings that caught the sunlight. The sunlight wasn’t as bright as it had been. The sky was beginning to lose its color, blue giving way to the gray-white that preceded sunset. Jeremy and Randolph forged on ahead, Corrie a few steps behind them. Em took my hand, motioning for me to move a bit slower. We lagged behind the others so that we could talk in private.

  “What happened back there?” she asked.

  “When?”

  “When you and your handsome Mr. Bond took your walk.”

  “Nothing happened, Em.”

  Em looked crestfallen. “Nothing at all?”

  “Well, he did kiss me,” I admitted.

  “And?”

  “And we turned around and came back to the cave.”

  Em stepped over a tangle of cypress roots and looked suspiciously at a log half-hidden by long grass. The going was much rougher now, trees closer together, roots tangled, the ground spongier, water all around. We waded a small river, only to cross another a few moments later, the water calf-high. The banks were very muddy, and I saw something that did indeed look like an alligator. Em, fortunately, didn’t see it.

  “He’s in love with you, you know,” she continued. “He sat beside you for the longest time when you were asleep—after he brought you in from the storm. He held your hand and looked at you and, luv, his eyes were so full of feeling I could have cried. I’ve never seen such tenderness and concern.”

  I pushed a branch out of the way. A bird swooped up, startling me.

  “He came all this way, risking his life to rescue you from the island,” Em continued, “and then he risked his life again during the storm. He must love you.”

  “I’m very grateful for all he’s done. I’ve told him so.”

  “But you don’t love him?”

  “Not in the least,” I replied.

  “I suppose it’s just as well, luv. He’s a heartbreaker, that one. I can tell. Too jaunty, too charming, and much too good-looking. A woman could go to pieces over a man like that.”

  “I don’t intend to go to pieces over any man,” I said. My voice was extremely firm. “I’ve come too far. I’ve been through too much. I’m not going to be hurt again.”

  “He could do that. He could break your heart, luv.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” I assured her.

  “Me, I’ll take a straightforward, uncomplicated brute like Randolph. He tried to take liberties this afternoon in the cave. You and Jeremy Bond had gone for your walk and Corrie went out to gather leaves and the two of us were left alone. He did take liberties, actually.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him he had exactly fifteen minutes to stop that nonsense.”

  She looked at me with mischievous eyes. I smiled, and a moment later we both burst into laughter. The men turned around to see what was the matter. We had lagged very far behind. Randolph yelled for us to catch up immediately, and we joined them, both of us unreasonably lighthearted. Jeremy insisted I walk beside him. Corrie had picked an armful of wild flowers, sprays of exotic blossoms that looked like tiny mauve orchids speckled with bronze and red. She handed me a spray. I toyed with it as we moved on.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” I asked.

  “’Bout a half a mile, I’d say,” Jeremy replied. “What were you two laughing about?”

  “None of your business,” Em said over her shoulder.

  “Wonder you didn’t get gobbled up by alligators, lagging behind like that,” Randolph told her. “We passed a whole swarm of ’em.”

  “Oh, you’re just trying to scare me.”

  “We did, Miz Em,” Corrie said. “I saw them. They were sleeping on the bank of that river.”

  “Jesus!”

  Em held onto Randolph’s arm, staying as close to him as possible. I exchanged smiles with Corrie. She seemed to have undergone a transformation since we’d left the island. Her timidity had vanished, and she was proving to be both hearty and resourceful. I remembered the promises I had made to her on the island. I intended to keep every one of them. She trudged along, wading through the water, climbing over roots, examining everything with interest.

  The land grew swampier, even more difficult to traverse, one river twisting into another, thick groves of trees giving way to stagnant lakes that reflected the fading rays of sunlight. Moss hung from the cypress trees in long ghostly strands. I could see why the Karankawas used canoes. It was almost impossible to get through this area on foot. None of us complained, however. We forged ahead resolutely, and half an hour later we reached the cove.

  The ship wasn’t large. It had a rusty-brown hull and only three sails and certainly no more than two large cabins below deck. The hull was crushed at one end, sinking into the water. The masts were broken, the sails a tangle of wet canvas, floating on top of the water. We stood on the bank, looking at the destruction the storm had wrought. None of us spoke. There was no need for words. We were stranded in the wilderness.

  Twenty-Two

  The sails floated heavily, tangled on the broken masts that banged together in the water like logs as the waves rocked gently. The front of the ship rose as the end sank, inch by inch, those decks above water slanting precariously. In half an hour or less the entire ship would be under water. I tried not to think of what it meant. I tried to ban
ish the terrible sinking feeling and the fear. Em’s cheeks were pale, her hazel eyes grim. Corrie stood beside her, still holding the sprays of wild flowers. Jeremy and Randolph looked at the ship with eyes that were hard and strangely calm.

  “There’s still time to salvage a few things,” Jeremy said.

  “It’s too risky, lad.”

  “The galley, the armory are up front, not underwater yet. We could save a few guns, ammunition, a few cooking utensils. We’ll need ’em. I’m swimming out there, Randy.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, one of us has to stay with the women. Besides, you’ve never been able to swim worth a damn.”

  “You’ll need help, lad. Even if you’re able to salvage things you won’t be able to get ’em back here by yourself.”

  Jeremy had already peeled off his buckskin jacket. He sat down on the bank now, removing his boots. “I’ll manage,” he retorted.

  He removed his holster and gun, brushed the hair from his forehead and then waded into the water. When it was up to his waist, he leaped forward and started swimming toward the ship in strong, steady strokes. The cove wasn’t very large, the ship no more than three or four hundred yards from shore. He reached it in a matter of minutes, catching hold of the railing that was half-submerged, pulling himself up onto the slanting deck. It seemed to vanish beneath him, sinking behind him. The ship rocked, tilting as he climbed the deck on his hands and knees, moving uphill, disappearing down an open hatch. He was going to be killed. The ship was going to sink and he was going to be trapped inside, and I would never see him again.

  Em took my hand, squeezing it so tightly I felt my fingers were going to be crushed. Randolph continued to stare at the ship, unable to conceal his worry now. Corrie took a deep breath, laid the flowers on the ground, and stepped out of her shoes.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Randolph said harshly.

  “I’m going to help him,” Corrie replied. “You said he’d need help.”

  “No you’re not, gal! I’m not about to let you go out—”