A Taste of Paradise

by Connie Mason

  The men rose as if on cue. “It’s time we left, Captain,” Chester said. “Sorry to have disturbed you. We’re all a little concerned, but who wouldn’t be? We have families to protect.”

  “I understand,” Chris replied.

  “Your fiancée hasn’t been to visit my wife,” Chester continued. “Agatha said to be sure to tell Miss Carlisle that she is eager to help plan her wedding.” He sent Chris a stern look. “There is going to be a wedding, isn’t there?”

  “Indeed. I thought a fall wedding would give me time to settle in here and Sophia the opportunity to grow accustomed to the climate. Jamaican summers can be brutal.”

  Chester and the others took their leave, but Rigby lingered in the doorway. “I know you’re not going to marry her, Radcliff. She’s good enough for a whore but not for a wife. Tell you what. I’ll take her off your hands. Name your price.”

  His face as dark as a storm cloud, Chris thundered, “Get out! Don’t ever darken my door again.”

  “Come now, Radcliff, you can’t blame a man for wanting what he’s owed. Tell you what. Give her to me for a week to settle Caldwell’s debt and you can have her after I’ve finished.” He leaned close and whispered. “We’ll keep this between us, just you and me. No one else need know.”

  Rage exploded inside Chris. The man had no principles, no morals. He was lower than an insect. There was only one way to deal with a reprobate like that. Clenching his fist, he sent it flying into Rigby’s face. Looking stunned, Rigby staggered and tumbled to the ground, howling like a banshee as blood spurted from his nose.

  “Chuba!” Chris roared. The servant appeared immediately. “Escort Sir Rigby into his carriage and send it on its way.”

  Turning on his heel, Chris walked away. If he remained a moment longer, he would stomp Rigby into the ground and damn the consequences. To his chagrin, he found Sophia standing in the foyer.

  “What did those men want?” she asked. “What did Rigby say to anger you so?”

  “Come into my study, we’ll talk there.” Sophia preceded him into the study; he closed the door behind them. “Sit down, Sophia. Would you like something to drink?”

  Sophia shook her head and dropped into a chair. “Those men were angry because you freed your slaves, weren’t they?”

  Chris inclined his head. “I did what my conscience demanded. If they don’t like it, that’s their problem. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. What was Rigby saying to you in the parlor when I interrupted?”

  “He doesn’t frighten me, Chris.”

  “That’s not what I asked. I could almost cut the tension with a knife. If I’m not mistaken, he had his hands on you.”

  “Very well; he tried to stop me from leaving the room. He said he wrote to Rayford, telling him where to find me.”

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”

  Anger flashed in Sophia’s green eyes. “He said he intended to have me. I disagreed with him.”

  “That does it!” Chris growled. “Clearly, the man is a menace. He won’t dare threaten you after we marry. Tomorrow we’ll call on Lady Chester. She offered to help plan our wedding, and you’re going to accept her offer. I’m sure a small affair can be arranged. Shall we say four weeks?”

  Sophia gasped. “You want us to marry in four weeks?”

  “Didn’t I just say so?”

  “Chris, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do,” he replied.

  “I can protect myself.”

  The uncompromising set of his jaw remained firm. “That’s beside the point. Everyone expects us to marry.”

  Didn’t the contentious woman know she had no choice in the matter? Both her fate and his had been sealed the day she set foot on his ship. Like it or not, they would wed.

  Sophia shook her head. She remembered with stark clarity the day Chris had told her he had killed Desmond. He had looked at her as if he never wanted to see her again. As if he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Then he had disappeared. She had suffered through the scandal, and abandonment by the man she loved, with her head held high. She wasn’t a sniveling, helpless female. She had thwarted Sir Oscar Rigby once, she could do it again.

  Her mind wandered back in time, to the irresistible young man Chris had been. She had wanted him from the beginning, even knowing she couldn’t have him. Nothing she had said to him had been untrue. But at seventeen she had been too young to realize she was setting the scene for a tragedy.

  “Why is marrying me repugnant to you?”

  Repugnant? Dear God, if he only knew. “Very well, I’ll marry you, Chris, but never say I didn’t warn you.”

  Was that relief she saw in his eyes?

  “Warn me about what?”

  “I’m trouble. You said it yourself.”

  “I think I can handle your kind of trouble.”

  Sophia stared at him, picturing his powerful body in her mind’s eye, all hard planes and bronzed skin. No matter how hard she tried, she could not purge his naked image from her mind, nor could she banish the fluttering in her belly every time they were together. He would be shocked if he knew how desperately she wanted him. She would never expose her vulnerability to him, however, unless he reciprocated her feelings, which Sophia seriously doubted would ever come to pass.

  Sophia dug deep in her soul for an answer to her dilemma. What were her choices? Instead of marrying Chris, she could return to England. She discarded that notion as soon as it was born. She could continue her search for employment. As if anyone would hire her, she thought wryly.

  She could marry Chris and make the best of their life together.

  “Stop thinking about a way out of this, Sophia. If I can tolerate a marriage between us, so can you.”

  Head held high, she faced him squarely. “Very well, Chris, I’ll marry you. I still say it’s a devil’s pact we’re making, but I’m game if you are.”

  Chris reached for her hands and pulled her out of the chair. “We’ll always have this, Sophia.” Then he kissed her, and her doubts fled like leaves before the wind.

  Her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue slipped inside, fencing with hers; his teeth nipped the tip of her tongue. Her breath faltered, nearly stopped when he clasped her face in both hands and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth.

  She groaned and melted against him. Chris was right, the attraction between them was raw and immediate; perhaps it would be enough.

  She prayed it would be.

  Chapter Ten

  Despite that soul-destroying kiss in his study, Chris did not visit Sophia’s room that night. The following morning, Kateena told her that there had been a fire in the cane fields, and that Chris had left the house shortly after she retired.

  Chris was eating his breakfast in the dining room when Sophia entered. He raised his head. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Sophia replied as she took her seat and waited for Chuba to pour her coffee. She ordered eggs and toasted bread, took a sip of scalding coffee and studied Chris over the cup rim. He looked tired and disheveled, as if he hadn’t slept or changed his clothes.

  “Kateena said there was a fire last night. I hope it wasn’t serious.”

  “Any fire is serious,” Chris said. “But fortunately, this one was discovered in time and little damage was done.”

  “Any clues how it started?”

  Chris set down his fork and looked at her, his face grim. “The fire was deliberately set.”

  “What? Who—”

  “I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. I’ve arranged for guards to patrol the fields at night.”

  “You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “No. I just returned from the fields.”

  “You should lie down.”

  “I’m fine, Sophia, don’t fret. I’ll be ready to leave for Orchid Manor after I bathe and change. Will eleven o’clock suit? I sent word ahead of our impending visit. Wear your new riding habit.”

 
“Why the rush? We can go tomorrow, when you’re feeling more yourself.”

  “You’re not going to talk me into putting this off, Sophia. If you intend to remain on the island, we’ll do what is expected of us. I can’t see another alternative; can you?”

  Sophia sighed. There was no alternative. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  Chris nodded and devoted himself to his breakfast. Sophia’s food arrived, and she, too, fell silent. Her marriage to Chris was really going to happen, whether either of them wanted it or not.

  Chris was waiting in the foyer when Sophia descended the stairs at precisely eleven o’clock. The dressmaker had done herself proud with Sophia’s wardrobe. The riding habit had been one of the first outfits to arrive. It was made of green linen, the color complementing her eyes and the creamy gold of her fading tan. She wore a bonnet to protect her face from the summer sun, and her feet were shod in new half boots. Several pairs of slippers to match her gowns had also arrived during the past two weeks along with the boots.

  “You look lovely,” Chris complimented.

  “Thanks to you,” Sophia replied. “I’ve never owned so many gowns in my life. As you well know, my family was not affluent.”

  Chris looked away. Replying would only dredge up memories he preferred to forget. Her family’s lack of finances was what had prevented Sophia from accepting Chris’s offer.

  “Shall we go? We’ve been invited to take lunch with the Chesters.”

  The stable lad was waiting in the courtyard with two horses, Chris’s Atlas and a white mare Sophia was to ride. Chris helped her mount.

  “Her name is Queen. She rather looks like one, don’t you think?”

  “She’s beautiful,” Sophia said, patting the mare’s neck affectionately. “Rayford sold all our horses, including Calico, the mare Papa bought for me.”

  “Queen is yours,” Chris said as he mounted Atlas. “Consider her a wedding present.”

  Sophia patted Queen’s neck and spoke softly into her ear. “Thank you,” she told Chris. “I love to ride.”

  They rode west beneath the shadow of the Blue Mountains. The heat was oppressive; not a breeze rustled the trees that grew tall and lush on either side of the narrow road. Soon they came to open fields where bushes bearing red berries grew in profusion.

  “What kind of plants are those?” Sophia asked.

  “Coffee. It grows extremely well on the mountain-sides. Chester prefers it to sugarcane. I’m thinking of devoting a few acres to coffee in the near future, and maybe growing some tobacco.”

  Orchid Manor was a study of contrasts. Though the land and manor house were carefully tended and maintained, the same couldn’t be said for the slave quarters. They were run-down and in need of repair. Conversely, the manor house was grand in the extreme.

  “Lord Chester should be more mindful of his slaves,” Sophia said as they approached the house. “I’m surprised he isn’t embarrassed by the pitiful condition of their quarters.”

  Chris nodded grimly. He appeared as disapproving as she was. “Perhaps I will discuss the matter with Chester while you consult with Lady Agatha about the wedding.”

  A lad ran up to take their reins as Chris dismounted and handed Sophia down. A tall, dignified servant opened the door to Chris’s knock and bowed them inside. Lord Chester came out of his study to greet them.

  “I heard about the fire, Radcliff. How did it start?”

  “It was deliberately set, but did little damage.”

  “I knew freeing your slaves was a mistake. They can do anything they want now without fear of reprisal.”

  “My workers didn’t start the fire,” Chris said.

  Chester frowned. “Whom do you suspect if not your workers? My guess is that they were ordered to set the fire by ‘Daddy’ Sam Sharp. Everyone, including you, is in danger, even though you freed your slaves.”

  Agatha descended the stairs at that moment and greeted her visitors warmly. “I’m so pleased you could come,” she said, grasping Sophia’s hands. “My husband tells me we have a wedding to plan. You and I shall adjourn to my private sitting room while the men have their rum and cigars in the study. We’ll meet them again on the veranda for luncheon.”

  Sophia followed Lady Chester up the stairs. She didn’t know where to look first in the sumptuous home. The foyer was as grand as any she’d seen in England, all black and white marble. The wide staircase led to the second floor and a multitude of closed doors. Agatha opened a door midway down the hall and invited Sophia inside.

  Dainty white furniture and pale green and cream curtains at the windows made the sitting room appear cool and inviting. Agatha invited Sophia to sit on a wicker sofa covered with colorful cushions, and sat down opposite her in a matching chair. She laced her fingers together and asked, “Would you like tea, my dear?”

  Sophia shook her head. “No, thank you, I had a late breakfast.”

  “Then let us get down to business, shall we? I take it you’ve set a date.”

  “Four weeks from last Saturday. Will that be enough time?”

  Agatha clapped her hands. “Oh, yes. I think you should be wed in the Church of St. Thomas in Kingston. Reverend Townsend will officiate, and my husband and I will host the reception at Orchid Manor after the ceremony.”

  It sounded as if Lady Chester had planned everything already. “That’s not necessary. Sunset Hill—”

  “—is too small. Besides, Lord Chester and I want to do this. We’ve already discussed it. Captain Radcliff is new to the island, and even though Jamaica has been one of his ports of call for many years, he doesn’t know the people that we do. Planters from as far as Spanish Town and Ocho Rios will wish to attend. It will be a grand affair, my dear.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Just leave everything to me. I’ll send out the invitations and inform Reverend Townsend of the time and date for the wedding. Now, what will you wear?”

  Things were going so fast Sophia could hardly keep up. “Chris has commissioned a wardrobe for me. Almost everything has been delivered. There is a peach lace gown that would be perfect.”

  Agatha clapped her hands again, something she seemed to do a lot. “Wonderful! You can have your choice of flowers, but I suggest roses and orchids. Both can be found in abundance here. Leave everything to me. I do believe I was born to plan weddings.” She sighed. “This is so romantic.”

  Agatha and Sophia continued to discuss the wedding, or rather Agatha did and Sophia listened. Sophia felt as if her world were spinning out of control. From the moment she’d stepped onto Chris’s ship, she had been at Chris’s mercy. For years Rayford and her father had dictated her life, and now it was Chris.

  “My husband will walk you down the aisle,” Agatha continued, “and I shall act as your attendant.”

  “I thought about having Kateena as my attendant,” Sophia remarked.

  “My dear,” Agatha said, clucking her tongue in disapproval, “that simply won’t do. Your Kateena is a servant, a former slave, a woman of color. The scandal of it would sweep the island like wildfire; it just isn’t done. I’m sure Captain Radcliff would agree with me on this.” She sighed heavily. “You have much to learn about the way things are done on the island.”

  Though Sophia wasn’t happy about it, she accepted Lady Chester’s edict.

  Meanwhile, Chris was receiving similar advice from Lord Chester. “Agatha has decided that your wedding will be held at the Church of St. Thomas in Kingston. Since your bride has no male relatives, I will walk her down the aisle. Lady Chester and I will hold the reception at Orchid Manor.”

  When Chris started to protest, Chester held up his hand. “No, no, it’s all settled. Agatha won’t accept refusal. It will be our pleasure to host your wedding.”

  “That’s very generous of you, my lord, but entirely unnecessary, especially since we disagree on the subject of slavery.”

  Chester waved aside Chris’s objection. “Your wedding has
nothing to do with your views on slavery. You must live with the consequences of your decision, as I must live with mine.”

  “Not everyone would agree with you,” Chris said darkly. “One man in particular was very vocal about his disapproval.”

  “You’re referring to Sir Rigby, I presume.”

  “You presume correctly. Matters of a personal nature have made me and Rigby enemies. I suspect him of firing my cane fields. Though I don’t know him well, I believe him to be a vindictive man.”

  “Yes, well, you’re right about Rigby. Few people like him. He treats his slaves like dirt and administers excessively cruel punishment for minor infractions. Though I know nothing about the animosity between you and Rigby, I suggest you watch your back.”

  “I have every intention of doing so.” Chris paused. “While we’re on the subject of slavery, I noticed your own slave quarters are in deplorable condition.”

  Chester cocked his head. “Actually, that fact was just brought to my attention. I intend to correct the problem immediately. I’m not a cruel man, Radcliff, just a busy one who tends to put off matters that don’t seem important.”

  “The success of your plantation depends upon your people; I suggest you pay more attention to them and their needs. I don’t mean to preach, Chester, but human beings are human beings, no matter the color of their skin.”

  Chester chuckled. “I’d best take care lest you make a believer of me.” He slapped Chris’s back. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the bell summoning us to luncheon.”

  The men joined the ladies on the veranda overlooking the garden, where a table had been set up for luncheon. The garden was ablaze with color—pale orchids, vibrant roses, hibiscus and bougainvillea. The lush plants were a testimony to the care of countless servants and Jamaica’s tropical climate.

  Sophia thoroughly enjoyed the meal, which consisted of fresh fruit, cold meats, an assortment of cheeses, delicate fish simmered in cream sauce, and fancy frosted cakes as light and delicate as a feather.

  “The heat is brutal,” Agatha said, fanning herself. “I should be accustomed to it by now, but summers have always been a trial to me. Shall we go inside where it’s cooler?”