Captive Innocence

by Fern Michaels

  “What happened, Jamie?” Royall asked anxiously.

  Jamie’s face looked contrite. “I don’t know. One minute he was fine and the next he was in the air.”

  “You should never pull the reins as you did; you only frighten him more,” Royall said quietly.

  “I know. He was just out of control for the minute. Don’t badger me. Come, let’s ride a little farther. See, over there?” he said, pointing a finger in an easterly direction. “That’s the beginning of Sebastian Rivera’s property.”

  Royall looked in the direction Jamie pointed and wondered where Sebastian was at this moment. She had not long to find out. Jamie dug his heels into the flank of the gelding, and the horse snorted and took off at a gallop. At first glance it was evident that Jamie did not have a good seat. He’d been turned sideways to speak to Royall when the horse broke into a run.

  Royall followed but the speed of the animal was frightening, and she felt helpless as she watched horse and rider plunge ahead.

  Suddenly, another rider came into view, took in the scene, and spurred his horse after the runaway gelding. Minutes later both riders returned. Sebastian Rivera led the now docile horse carrying Jamie.

  He nodded indifferently to Royall, but the way her white riding habit molded itself to her slim, supple curves did not escape him.

  “Does the Baron know you’re riding his gelding?” Sebastian asked Jamie quietly.

  Jamie turned sullen and ignored the question. Sebastian shrugged and looked as though he hadn’t expected an answer anyway.

  Royall remained as mute as Jamie. Why should she say anything and have him turn it around to suit his satisfaction? Who cared what he thought anyway, she muttered viciously under her breath. She had been insulted and humiliated enough by him to last her a lifetime.

  “You are trespassing on my property,” Sebastian said coldly. “Come, I’ll ride back with you to the boundary line to be sure that you get home safely.”

  “There’s no need for you to play duenna for Royall or myself. I’m perfectly capable of seeing that we both get home safely,” Jamie said petulantly.

  “It’s not your friend that I’m concerned about, Jamie. I want to be sure you get back where you belong. Senora Banner has proven that she can do just about anything.” His tone was so cold Royall thought her blood would freeze in her veins.

  Jamie’s head drooped as his gelding fell in behind Sebastian’s blue black stallion. Royall marveled at the horse and the man who rode him so effortlessly, knowing no other man would have been able to ride the huge black beast with the agility Sebastian displayed.

  From time to time Jamie turned in his saddle to glare at Sebastian, who completely ignored him.

  Royall’s back stiffened. What business was it of Sebastian’s if Jamie rode the gelding or not? He had a perfect right to chastise them for trespassing, but that was all. And why did he ask if the Baron knew that Jamie was riding the gelding?

  Suddenly, Sebastian turned and stared at Royall. Actually, she thought, it looked as though he was staring through her, a glint in his ebony eyes. When he finally spoke, it so unnerved her she almost fell from her mount. How could he sound so brutal, so cold and hard when they had shared ... What was he saying? She had to pay attention.

  “Senora, there’s no telling what might have happened to you if I hadn’t come along when I did. It’s not wise for you to ride here in the jungle until you are more familiar with the terrain, and it would be best if you rode with an experienced horseman, which Jamie, as you can see, is not. In short, this property is off limits to all who reside at the Reino Brazilia. Is that understood, Senora Banner?”

  “Perfectly,” Royall hissed through clenched teeth.

  Sebastian reined in his horse. “This is as far as I go with you. I doubt very much if the Baron would appreciate me escorting his son and guest to his plantation.” The black eyes were slate colored now in the afternoon sun, almost murky, as he once again gazed past Royall’s head. Swinging the huge stallion effortlessly, he headed back in the direction from which they had just come.

  Royall turned in the saddle and hissed, “You’re an insufferable bastard, Sebastian Rivera!”

  Without moving a muscle Sebastian shot back, “And you, Senora Royall Banner, with two Ls, have both names correct.”

  Royall seethed all the way back to the plantation, barely hearing what Jamie was saying. “You know I would never let anything happen to you, Royall. Why, we just met and already I like you very much. I want us to be friends. Sebastian hates my father, so he hates me too.”

  Royall nodded absentmindedly. She knew that intentionally he wouldn’t have let anything happen; unintentionally was another matter.

  Leaving the horses with one of the stable boys, they entered the cool, dim house through a side entrance. It appeared to Royall that Elena crept up on them as they entered the long hallway. The look of relief on her face was unmistakable. Relief for Jamie, no doubt, Royall thought sourly, still smarting from Sebastian’s arrogance.

  “Did you have any trouble, Jamie?” He merely shrugged, and Elena didn’t bother to question Royall. The tall, stately housekeeper looked at her but spoke to Jamie. Perhaps I am invisible, Royall thought as she remembered how Sebastian stared through her.

  “There will be heavy rains before the dinner hour is here. Perhaps you had best remove your soldiers from the veranda.” Jamie’s eyes lit up at the mention of his hobby, and he went immediately to do her bidding.

  The housekeeper again pierced Royall with a black, malevolent stare.

  “I don’t want you to ride with Jamie ever again, Senora Banner. Is that understood?” she asked frigidly.

  Royall looked puzzled. “But why, Elena? He did nothing wrong!”

  “There’s no reason for me to explain to you the why of anything. I have said you are not to ride with Jamie. Do you understand?” she asked, her eyes bright and piercing.

  Royall murmured yes to the demand. She didn’t understand, but she did mean to find out. She loved to ride, but if that pastime was to be curtailed, she would find some other form of entertainment. She felt the housekeeper’s eyes on her back as she made her way down the hall. From the way things were going, this was not going to be one of her better days.

  Once inside her room she removed her riding habit and lay down on the chaise. She remained so, puzzling over the strange behavior of not only Jamie but also Sebastian and Elena as well. None of it made sense. She wished that Mrs. Quince and her treasure trove of information were here. A knock sounded on the door, and the little Indian Moriah came into the room carrying a tall drink. She held it out shyly, and Royall accepted it.

  Royal patted the foot of the chaise for Moriah to sit down. “It’s all right, Moriah. I’ve given you permission. Come, I want to know how much English you speak. Tell me, who teaches you?”

  “Father Juan,” the child answered shyly.

  “I see. Do you also get to know your numbers and your letters?”

  “Yes, and Nessie too.”

  “What of Bridget and Rosy?”

  “Elena says no,” the child said, her face still and quiet.

  “Doesn’t the Baron have anything to say of it?”

  “No, the ... the ... Elena says no,” the child repeated stubbornly.

  “Are you and the others to be my maids?”

  The child nodded. “We take care of you,” she said happily.

  And who takes care of you, little one? Royall wondered. “Where are your mother and father, child?”

  A frown crossed the little face. “My mother and father work on Regalo Verdad, for Senor Rivera.”

  “Then why is it that you aren’t with them?” Royall questioned in disbelief.

  “The Baron sold my parents to Senor Rivera but would not let me go. Elena wanted to train me for this plantation. Senor Rivera is trying to buy me.”

  “How could they sell the parents and not the child?” Royall felt nauseated. “Can’t something be done?” sh
e asked. “And the others, Rosy, Bridget and Nessie, where are their parents?”

  “Also on Regalo Verdad. Senor Rivera bought them all at the same time. They were all sick with the fever and the Baron says they are no good. He sell”—she floundered for the word—“cheap,” she said triumphantly.

  Royall’s blood boiled. “How could this be? When was the last time you saw your parents?” she asked angrily.

  Moriah held up three fingers.

  “Years?” Royall demanded incredulously.

  The child nodded.

  “Well, we will just see about that,” Royall shouted, angry in outrage, causing the child to cower. Instantly contrite, Royall cradled the small head in her lap. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, little one. I’m angry that this could happen to a child,” she tried to explain.

  “I cost many dollars,” the child added proudly.

  “Who told you that?” Royall demanded.

  “I heard Father Juan say to Senor Rivera.” The round face puckered as she tried to remember. “Not enough to buy me,” she said. Royall understood. No matter how much Sebastian Rivera offered, the children were not for sale.

  The child rose to leave. Royall, sunk deep in her own thoughts, barely noticed. If I own half of this plantation, then I own half of all the slaves and that includes the children. Granted, the Casa belongs to the Baron, but the profits and the plantation we share equally. Then I should have some say in the matter. Indignation welled within her, making her temples throb. They were only children, hardly more than babies! She couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept the fact their parents had been sold, separated from them when they were barely seven years old. Mrs. Quince had told her the natives were fiercely protective of children and family. Then how did this happen? And how could Sebastian Rivera, for all his supposed morality and ethics, have allowed it to happen? At least, Royall told herself, the little ones seemed well cared for, that at least was something to the good.

  Royall opened the carryall that rested beside the bed and withdrew the folded papers she had studied on the ship, hearing the stiff crackling as she opened them. She didn’t pretend she understood them, and thought that perhaps Father Juan would be willing to translate them for her. She knew they were legal testaments of her share in Reino Brazilia, and now she needed more specific information, delineating her exact legal position.

  Walking out to the wide, shadowy veranda, she picked up the novel she had tried to read during the voyage, but couldn’t concentrate any better now than then. Her mind was in a turmoil, her emotions rioting, whirling in a hundred different directions. Weary, she rested her head back against the rattan chair, watching the sun go down over the vibrant green treetops. The scent of crepe jasmine was like a heady wine, hanging in the air, cloying in its sweetness.

  Eventually, Moriah and Bridget returned to the darkened room, lighting kerosene lamps, flooding the room with light. “Time to dress, Senora,” Moriah smiled.

  Royall rose heavily from her chair, feeling as though the weight of the world were on her shoulders. The little girls helped her dress quietly, each sensing the golden lady’s depression. They liked the way the Senora’s hands reached out and touched their cheeks, and they were puzzled by the deep sorrow they saw in her golden-flecked eyes.

  Royall glanced in the mirror, satisfied with the amber gown she had worn that first evening to dinner on the riverboat. Pushing back thoughts of Sebastian, she adjusted a fold in the rich fabric and thanked the girls, calling them ninas, and making them giggle with her attempts to learn the language.

  Royall entered the expansive library where two men stood talking earnestly. Jamie apparently felt excluded from their conversation and moped in a far corner of the room, leafing through the pages of a book with obvious disinterest.

  A distinguished-looking man in his middle years sensed her presence and turned toward the door. He studied her briefly, his penetrating gray eyes observing her from head to toe, lingering ever so fleetingly at the swell of her hips and the rise of her bosom. Royall felt a faint blush beneath his admiring scrutiny and was transfixed beneath his gaze, which was just short of insolent.

  He was tall, slenderly built, yet a strength of physique was apparent in his well-set shoulders and slim tapering torso. A shock of dark hair framed by gray feathering at his temples caressed a shapely, regal head. His face was darkened by the sun, making his light gray eyes appear almost luminescent by contrast. A full, sensuous mouth, now smiling at her, revealed strong, even white teeth, accentuated by a small, carefully clipped moustache.

  A woman finding herself so pointedly admired by such an attractive man, could consider herself flattered, but watching him, Royall became uneasily aware that there, in the Baron’s handsome face, was the strong and undeniable resemblance to Sebastian Rivera.

  “Welcome, welcome. Welcome to Reino Brazilia!” He stepped forward, graceful as a dancer, and took both her hands in his. Gallantly, he bent and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Come, I would like to present my son Carl,” he introduced the tall young man he had been speaking with, “and of course, you’ve already met Jamie.”

  Royall smiled in return, uneasy beneath those flashing gray eyes.

  “Jamie tells me you went for a ride this afternoon,” Baron Newsome said smoothly. “My dear, I would much prefer you didn’t ride until you’re more familiar with the plantation.” His tone was soft, concerned, but nevertheless, Royall recognized it for the order it was. To her own disdain, she found herself nodding in compliance and looked at Carl, who was observing her over the rim of his wine glass, a speculative expression in his dark eyes, eyes that were startlingly similar to Sebastian’s. There was truth to the gossip Mrs. Quince had related to her, Royall thought as she accepted a glass of sherry from the Baron. There was a definite family resemblance between the Newsomes and Sebastian Rivera, and one would have to be blind not to see it.

  Carl engaged Royall in conversation, asking her about her trip from New England. “I’ve never been farther than Belém,” he told her slightly regretfully. “Someday, soon I hope, business will take me to Rio de Janeiro. How did you like that city?”

  Memories of Sebastian shivered through her as she answered, and pushing them aside, Royall recounted as much about the city as she remembered. Carl seemed so interested, so eager for word about places and things outside his life here on Reino Brazilia. He was a pleasant young man, Royall decided, and definitely attractive. A younger version of the Baron, with his dark hair brushed back from an aristocratic brow that gave emphasis to his finely structured features and high-bridged nose. He, like his father, was slim and lithe, almost languidly elegant, quite the opposite from Jamie’s muscular bulk.

  Bringing her attention back to himself, seemingly annoyed with Carl’s thirsty interest for places and things beyond the Reino, the Baron spoke of the coming festivities in Manaus and how exciting they would be. “It’s the beginning of the opera season and we, the committee for the opera house, have sent for some of Europe’s finest performers. I own a townhouse, useful for business. But more about that later; first you must concern yourself with having a costume made for the ball.”

  Elena broke into the conversation by announcing dinner, and without further words, the Baron took Royall’s glass from her and placed it on a marble-topped table.

  Jamie rushed toward her, his arm extended, offering to escort her into the dining room. With quiet grace, the Baron stepped between them, casually placing her hand on the crook of his arm. A sulky expression played about Jamie’s mouth, and for a moment, Royall thought he was going to verbalize his objection. “Gentlemen,” the Baron stated in an authoritative tone that broached no objections, “I believe dinner is served.”

  It was a quiet meal. Carl added very little to the conversation. To the annoyance of his father, he seemed lost somewhere far beyond the limits of the plantation. Jamie sat with lowered eyes, picking at his food, sulkily clattering the flatware against his plate and setting his glass down roughl
y, nearly spilling its contents.

  In the uneasy atmosphere, Royall herself was without an appetite, despite the deliciously spiced freshwater shrimp and light fluffy rice. She was grateful for the strong Brazilian coffee that ended the meal and was served in the conservatory where they gathered near the delicately feminine spinet.

  “Do you play?” the Baron asked hopefully.

  When she replied that she did, Jamie bounded across the room to her, begging her to play. She demurred at first, but after gentle coaxing, she accepted the invitation, running her fingers down the keyboard.

  As she played love ballads, Jamie sat as though hypnotized by the soft music, and the Baron lounged in a rose brocade armchair, his head resting back, his eyes watching her through lowered lids.

  Carl stood by the open doorway leading to the veranda and the gardens beyond, a slight frown on his face. A faint breeze carried the scent of jasmine and was pleasing to his senses; the delicate music and feminine fragrance made him melancholy for his sweet, dark-haired Alicia.

  Carl had no stomach for what he had been ordered to do once Royall stopped playing the piano, and he wished she would go on playing forever. But there, that was further proof of what the Baron claimed was his foolish romanticism. Also, he knew he had to follow his father’s orders if the Reino were to be saved.

  Carl’s thoughts wandered to Alicia and her desperate situation. If only he could bring her here to the Reino, marry her, take care of her. But the Baron wouldn’t hear of it. Since the death of Alicia’s father, her financial position had gone from bad to worse. An accident, the charitable chose to call it, but anyone knowing the true circumstances knew it for what it was: suicide. A further blot on Alicia’s eligibility, as far as the Baron was concerned.