Caribbean Scot

by Kimberly Killion

  14

  ~ THE VICTOR ~

  Well, this was an altogether new feeling.

  Robbie’s legs felt icy. Her freshly shaven womanhood tingled beneath her garments as she followed the others through a jungle filled with a cacophony of sounds. Twilight guided them back to the village as did the smell of cooked meat, and every step she took filled her with apprehension.

  The women had spent hours painting her skin with intricate designs that mimicked the ivy print in her yellow gown. The most seductive was a vine that trailed around her neck and fell between her breasts. Songbird had fashioned Robbie’s hair in a loose pile of curls and tiny braids which gave a glimpse of the designs they’d painted on her back. ’Twas meant as a temptation. A provocative lure to attract one’s eyes and tease them with the mysteries of what lie beneath her gown and corset.

  She didn’t know if she possessed the patience to seduce Reid, but she admitted to being excited about the endeavor.

  The beat of a drum sounded ahead of them and quickly escalated into a feverish tune.

  “The celebration has begun,” Black Dove informed Robbie over her shoulder. “We must make haste.”

  Robbie held the sides of her skirt high, running behind the women until they entered the village and presented themselves in a single line before the Jaguar King. He wore a headdress decorated with colored feathers and sat on an elaborate throne draped in eels of red silk. Though she didn’t know all of the Mopán peoples’ customs, she was familiar with the rules of respect.

  The drums ceased, but Robbie’s heart continued to pound between her ears. She resisted the urge to turn around and seek out Reid for comfort, knowing she must first pay homage to the chieftain.

  He glanced over his daughters with indifference, but his black eyes lingered on Robbie for long moments before he finally dipped his head, granting them freedom to join the festivities.

  The drums resumed, and Robbie blew out the breath she’d been holding.

  “When Da awards the victor o’ the hunt, follow Songbird’s lead through the ritual.” Black Dove gave Robbie’s hand a supportive squeeze, then followed Stream Dancer and Gentle Fawn around an enormous fire shooting flames into a starlit sky.

  Robbie scanned the hordes of people. Sour Face looked at Robbie with a…sour face. Duncan and Cocijo smiled and waved. Jean-Pierre grinned and winked. Then she found Eoin, and the look of disgust curling his lip was unmistakably directed at her. A month ago, she might have been shamed by his obvious disapproval of her appearance, but this eve she felt naught but great satisfaction.

  Robbie pulled her gaze away from him and searched for Reid, but before she could locate him among the abundance of natives now dancing around the fire, Songbird gripped her by the hand and guided her toward an elevated dais to the right of the Jaguar King’s throne.

  Wild Tigress lounged on her belly in a pile of red silk bolsters and made no attempt to make room for them until the Jaguar King spoke commanding words in their native tongue.

  Robbie knew not what she’d done to garner such dislike from the woman but had no desire to spend the eve in her company.

  “Sit,” the Jaguar King ordered and before she could scowl at him, Songbird yanked Robbie onto her duff atop a fluffy bolster.

  “We must sit here,” Songbird informed her in hushed tones. “The uncoupled daughters of the Jaguar King sit to his right until a man proves worthy of our company.”

  “But I’m not one of his daughters,” Robbie protested.

  “You are his honored guest.” Songbird’s gaze diverted, then she sat up high on her knees and fidgeted with her necklaces. “Do I look pleasing?”

  Wild Tigress rolled her dark eyes and snorted. The woman was easy to hate.

  “Ye look beautiful.”

  Songbird flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and tucked the sides behind her ears. Why Songbird was suddenly overcome with nerves, Robbie didn’t know until she followed the woman’s gaze. Reid walked toward the Jaguar King with Oscar and Henrik at his heels carrying a wooden tray filled with fare. Both barefooted men wore tan breeks and turquoise necklaces over their bare chests, and while Reid looked perfectly handsome, Henrik’s smile more than made up for his poor physique. In fact, Henrik’s smile never faltered as Reid conversed with the Jaguar King.

  “Ah ma´na´at k´ek´en,” Wild Tigress murmured words in her native tongue, the tone sardonic.

  Songbird glared at her sister, but the silent rebuke ended abruptly as the youngest daughter of the Jaguar King returned her bashful gaze toward Reid and Henrik. It was in that moment Robbie realized Henrik’s smile wasn’t meant for her, but for Songbird. The timid woman lowered inky black lashes only to peek at Henrik from beneath them.

  “Ye have eyes for Henrik?” Robbie’s question came out with more pitch than she’d intended.

  Songbird frowned. “He is not good?”

  “He is bluidy English.”

  “Is bluidy English not good?”

  Robbie gawked at her. These people had no knowledge of continental warfare. No prejudices against the English or other countries. Regardless of how odd the pairing might be, who was she to stand in the way of two peoples’ attraction? “Nay. Henrik is good.”

  Songbird’s face lit up for mere seconds before she started fidgeting again. After gaining the Jaguar King’s consent, Reid and Henrik approached. Wild Tigress sat up taller which thrust her large breasts forward, but neither Reid nor Henrik paid her any heed. Oscar plopped atop a round bolster and proceeded to bathe as Henrik fell into conversation with Songbird. Reid positioned himself beside Robbie with his back to Wild Tigress, blocking her completely out of their circle. Mayhap it was wrong, but Robbie bubbled with confidence.

  “You made friends?” Reid’s gaze followed the design around her neck, then slid lower to her breasts sitting high out of her corset.

  Shivers of delight tapped the knobs of her spine. “Black Dove and her sisters took me to a lagoon to bathe and prepare—”

  Reid’s pained expression cut her words short. She touched his forearm. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers. A giddy sense of accomplishment made her giggle as she realized the picture she’d painted of her naked at the lagoon may have caused his distress.

  A bit of wickedness empowered her. She hadn’t spent the day mentally preparing for a seduction only to sit before the man and shyly bat her lashes. She leaned close and inhaled his clean, exotic scent. “Ye smell good.”

  “As do you,” he breathed through parted lips.

  “I suspect ’tis the soap Black Dove brought to the lagoon,” she whispered into his ear but was not yet done torturing him, “or mayhap ye smell the cream I used to soothe my skin after I used the stone.”

  Reid sucked in an audible breath. “You used the stone?” His voice cracked.

  “Aye.” She blew in his ear, then glanced into the gathering where Eoin stood with his arms crossed, glaring at them. His stance only encouraged her behavior. She caressed the rim of Reid’s ear with the tip of her nose. “Ye should have told me about the bathing practices of the Mopán women in one of your lectures. Have ye any idea how delicious it feels to be shaven completely bare on your—?”

  “Damn the Devil, Robbie!” He snatched a bowl of nuts from the tray Henrik had set beside her and shoved it into Robbie’s hand. “Nuts?” He threw a handful into his mouth and chewed viciously.

  She found the man’s nervousness charming. “Have ye any chocolate?” She purposely licked her top lip.

  His jaw twitched. “Nay.”

  Oh, she was going to enjoy this seduction. She would have the man agreeing to lead the clan by the small hours. Again, she caught Eoin’s eyes. And ye will have nothing.

  “But he vowed it,” Songbird whined beside them.

  Henrik shushed her, but she turned harsh black eyes on Reid. “You said Henrik was next. You vowed it.”

  Understanding smoothed Reid’s expression. “Forgive me, Songbird. ’Twas months past. I had forg
otten my vow.”

  “There’ll be another hunt,” Henrik assured her, but his disappointment was as evident as Songbird’s.

  “You are selfish,” Songbird flung the insult at Reid, then propped her chin up with her fists and pouted.

  Before Robbie could console her or inquire about what had transpired, the Jaguar King rose from his throne.

  The drums ceased. The natives hushed.

  With his arms raised toward the heavens, the chieftain gave thanks to the gods for their blessings. He then studied his people. “Victor of the hunt, rise and step forward.”

  Wild Tigress stood as did Songbird. Robbie imitated their actions, trusting Black Dove’s instructions to follow Songbird’s lead through the ritual.

  Reid’s eyes rounded on Robbie. “Sit down,” he demanded between clenched teeth just as Eoin set himself before the chieftain.

  The Jaguar King splayed his hand toward his daughters and Robbie. “Choose.”

  “Choose?” Robbie echoed the Jaguar King’s word in the form of a question and looked to Songbird for explanation.

  “The victor of the hunt is rewarded with a companion for the eve.” She glanced at Reid, her slashed thin brows reflected her confusion. “The victor of the hunt is always White Serpent, but he promised Henrik would be next.”

  Robbie swallowed as Eoin’s lips twisted into an ugly grin.

  “I’m curious, cousin.” Eoin crossed his arms over his bare chest and turned toward Reid. “When ye encouraged me to impress the chieftain by making the kill, was it part of your plan to have Robbie among my choices?”

  “You can decline his offer,” Reid rushed out.

  “And insult the Jaguar King? I think not.” Eoin stepped closer and ogled Wild Tigress, then he turned his attention to Robbie. He slid a finger down her throat and over her collarbone. “What say ye, Robbie? ’Tis been far too long.”

  She backed away from his repulsive touch. A bout of nausea gurgled in her gut. “I would sooner claw my eyes out than serve as the companion to the man responsible for my brother’s death.”

  Eoin snorted, the dark orbs of his eyes slipped into the corners and locked on Reid for a brief moment before returning back to Robbie. “I protected the clan as is my duty.”

  “Ye protected yourself, and I hate ye.”

  “We have a bargain.” Reid stepped closer, his nostrils flared, his chest rose and fell rapidly.

  “That we do, cousin,” Eoin agreed. “And I’ll trust ye to uphold your end.” He took Wild Tigress by the hand and followed her through the throngs of natives.

  Robbie exhaled as the drums resumed once again. When Songbird left Robbie’s side to join her kin, Reid stepped into her place and opened his mouth, but Robbie snapped her hand upright. “Why would ye set Eoin up to make the kill, knowing what the Jaguar King would offer?”

  Reid matched her intense stare with one of his own, but held his tongue.

  “Answer me and dinnae lie.” She crossed her arms and tapped her toe, tired of being demeaned by their bartering.

  “I dinnae expect you to be among his choices. Ye are determined to sacrifice yourself to save the clan. I thought it best you knew what to expect upon your return to Scotland.”

  “Think ye I would remain loyal to the man after what he did to Fergus?”

  “I dinnae know if you believed me.”

  Was she a fool to trust him? “Did ye lie?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then your efforts to taint Eoin’s character were unnecessary. I knew he was a bluidy lecher. Ye accomplished naught with your scheming, save for demeaning me in front of your clan and breaking a promise ye made to Songbird.”

  “Forgive me.” He stared at his toes. “’Twas not my intention.” He sulked his way before the Jaguar King and bowed. “Much thanks for your generosity, B’alam.”

  The Jaguar King flattened his hand atop Reid’s head. “Sleep well, my son.”

  Reid called for Oscar to follow, retrieved the meat-stripped hind quarter leg from the discarded mountain cow, then disappeared into a blackened path leading into the jungle.

  Robbie wished he’d made the kill and chose her as his companion for the eve. She wished he thought enough of her intelligence to barter with her instead of Eoin, but neither had been the case. She plopped back down atop a bolster and reached for a curl to twist, but none were there.

  The Jaguar King left his throne, sat beside her, and pushed the tray of food in front of her. “Eat.”

  She glared at him but stuffed a piece of pink fruit in her mouth and chewed. For long moments he said naught, but she sensed his words coming before he spoke.

  “White Serpent needs a woman.”

  Robbie laughed outright, appalled by his blatancy. “Ye seem to have plenty to spare. Mayhap ye should give him one?”

  “White Serpent declined my daughters. It would please B’alam if Handful of Seed were White Serpent’s woman.”

  Blast this man and his names! “My. Name. Is. Robbie. And I belong to no man,” she spit out between clenched teeth.

  The Jaguar King’s laugh reminded her of Grandda; an exuberant open mouth chortle. “You are much like Black Raven.”

  ’Twas difficult to be angry in the face of laughter. “Was she one of your women?”

  “She was my only woman. What you call my queen.” He removed his headdress and helped himself to a chunk of juicy meat. “The Kekchí took her.”

  Robbie angled her head, curious. “Why do ye not fight to get her back?”

  “We did, but the Kekchí are greater in number than the Mopán. They captured my woman as well as Black Dove to draw me out.” His voice lowered and the stone face he wore fell with unguarded emotions. “White Serpent saved Black Dove, but lost his da in the battle. And I lost Black Raven.”

  Robbie’s heart softened. The Jaguar King held the same look of sadness Grandda wore for years after the fever took Gramum. “Ye have my sympathies for your loss.”

  He blinked his eyes slowly and dipped his head in thanks. “The gods gift us with few days. Waste them not. Your spirit will be forever lonely in the life after, if your only companion is bitterness.”

  Had the Jaguar King not rose and departed, she might have told him she needed no companion, but it would have been a lie. She hugged her knees and watched the natives meander into their cot-houses in pairs. A familiar longing made her think of Rannoch.

  Temper replaced the longing in an instant. She’d wasted her dreams on Eoin and his lies. S’truth, she was tired of spending every moment being bitter and angry, tired of hiding her desire for Reid behind morals that had gained her naught but frustration. Why should she suffer? Why should she be alone? Eoin certainly wasn’t.

  She got to her feet and walked toward the path, but paused when she heard footsteps following. Jax stood behind her, torch in one hand, a machete in the other.

  He offered her a small smile. “Jax will show you the way.” He guided her in silence back to the shore where they followed Reid and Oscar’s footsteps along a stretch of beach. The ocean hummed to her left and the night creatures screamed to her right.

  She did a little skip and hooked her hand into the crook of Jax’s elbow.

  “Jax will keep you safe,” he assured her and then reentered the jungle. He lead her through vine-choked foliage until golden flickers of torchlight revealed a wooden structure twenty times the size of the ones in the village. Mayhap ’twas a gathering place.

  ’Twas odd really. Seven round buildings of ascending heights formed a circle around an enormous windmill rising out of the center. Red silk sails spun round and round, illuminated by a swell of firelight from below.

  “Is this your kirk? Your place of worship?” Her question came out breathy, mesmerized as she was by the grandeur before her.

  Jax shook his head, seemingly perplexed by her question. “This is Rukux—White Serpent’s home. He built this for you.”

  “He built this for me?” Robbie asked long moments later in denial, bu
t Jax had already disappeared back into the jungle.

  Eager to explore, she followed a winding stone walkway though a garden of small fruit trees. Great purple bunches of orchids pooled beneath each tree and filled her inhales with an alluring sweetness.

  He built this for me. She smiled inside and out, flattered by the exquisite beauty of this paradise, yet part of her wilted, wondering if Reid would give it all up to return with her to Scotland. She padded her way toward the smallest of the seven circular towers. No doors prevented her entry and a single torch illuminated walls filled with an assortment of armory; spears and machetes, basket swords and dirks, and several pistols.

  Torchlight guided her through a second open doorway into a round chamber much larger than the last. A fire burned in a hearth, lighting the area for her inspection. A device the likes of which she’d never seen spun in the high ceiling. Revolving vanes of woven palm attached to a rotating hub spun round and round, pushing air throughout the interior. In the center of the chamber sat two facing oversized armchairs, one deep purple, one red, both fat with stuffing.

  ’Twas like a Great Hall built for two.

  Reid sat in the red chair with his back to her. His hands propped on the armrests; one holding a smoking stick, the other twirling a coin back and forth across his knuckles. He stared at the empty chair across from him and raised the smoking stick toward his face.

  Robbie knew with absolute certainty that the purple chair belonged to her. Beside each chair sat a small table; hers empty, his filled with nonessentials. A wooden bowl made her lips rise at the corners. The man was addicted to nuts.

  She supposed she should announce herself but didn’t want to break the silence or wake the enormous multi-colored bird perched beside another open doorway.

  When she passed by his peripheral, Reid jumped, startled by her presence. The muscles in his bare chest flexed as he jerked his head over his shoulder. “Tell me you did not come here on your own.”

  She smiled, knowing his harshness stemmed from his constant worry over her well-being. “Jax brought me.” Gesturing toward the empty chair, she asked, “May I?”