Searching for strength, Krystyna placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back with all her might.
"No!" she cried.
His breath ragged, his pulses throbbing, Jason fought against the tide of anger and hunger that threatened to overcome him. He took a step back. The more she said no, the more he wanted her. But not against her will. There was no victory in that, no victory at all.
He waited a moment, until his breathing was normal. "I won't force myself on you, Princess. I can wait." He could only hope that he would find the strength to live up to his promise.
"You will have a long wait," she vowed, wishing her voice hadn't cracked that way.
He merely smiled in response. Belying the tension still humming in his young body, he leaned against the wall, folding his arms before him. The casual pose had nothing to do with the turmoil within him. "So, Princess, do you really intend to work your way back home?"
"Yes," she answered primly, relieved that he wasn't trying to press his advantage. She had no idea how much strength she could summon against him. Against herself.
"I wasn't aware that people of the aristocracy knew how to work." Humor highlighted his face.
She didn't like him laughing at her. “Jeremiah had the same comment to make about white people."
So, she got the stoic black man to talk to her, Jason thought. Jeremiah hardly ever spoke to strangers. There seemed to be no end to the things she could do.
"I can always do what needs to be done," she informed him.
"You've got a lot of spunk," he acknowledged.
Another word she didn't know. "Spunk?" She cocked her head, trying to understand.
Jason found the movement endearing. "It means you have a lot of courage."
For once, he seemed to be serious. "Oh. I have to," she declared simply. "There is no one here for me to rely on, except myself. Unless Thaddeus comes."
He lifted a brow. So there was a lover. "Your fiance?"
She lied, hoping that the thought of another man would put him off and he would leave her alone from now on. But he hardly seemed interested, and his reaction annoyed her, though she knew it shouldn't have. "Yes. He said he would join us in the near future, but I do not know exactly when."
"I see." He studied her face carefully, looking for evidence of a lie. She had not kissed him as if she had a fiance. At least, not one who had awakened the woman within her. That response, he was certain, belonged only to him. "So, you'll be going with him if he comes?"
She looked away. His eyes saw too much. "Yes."
"Then why bother working for your passage?" he challenged. "Why not just wait for him to show up?"
He had caught her in the lie and that made her angry. She placed fisted hands on her hips. "If something happens to delay him, I shall be able to go back on my own. I do not need to be taken care of." She would not be put in a class along with his sister and that other dreadful, fawning woman.
Jason believed she meant exactly what she said. She was far different from any woman he had ever met. Far more independent. He found that her independence intrigued him. "That's a pity." He straightened and unfolded his arms. "Well, if you find that you do, you know where to find me."
She thought he was going to leave, and was totally unprepared when he suddenly turned around and took hold of her waist. Drawing her to him until her breasts were pressed against his chest, he kissed her soundly, then released her. Her heart was pounding in her ears, mingling with the sound of his laughter.
She slammed the door behind him.
Within a few moments, there was a light tapping on the door. Krystyna swung it open, ready to demand to know what it was that he wanted of her. Her words evaporated, unspoken.
Before her stood Lucinda, smiling rather uncertainly. A tall, pretty black woman stood behind her, her arms laden with clothes.
"I thought you might need more clothing," Lucinda explained haltingly. She hesitated in the doorway. "Is it all right to come in?"
The expression on Krystyna's face softened immediately. "Yes, yes of course." She stepped back, allowing the two women to walk in. "How kind of you."
Lucinda smiled shyly, pleased with Krystyna's reaction. "I couldn't have you wander around in that dress." She blushed. "Savannah doesn't approve of it, I'm afraid."
"That is Jason's sister?" Krystyna asked. Last night had been a whirl of faces and names, and she hadn't gotten all of them straight yet.
"Yes." Lucinda looked around the small cabin and felt a pang for the other woman. How could she stay here? It was so bleak and barren. "I wasn't sure whether I should come in." A shy smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I just saw Jason leave."
Krystyna felt the color rising in her cheeks.
Hurriedly, Lucinda changed the subject, fearing that she had once again treaded where she didn't belong. "I thought you might like this." She took a gown from the top of the pile Leola was holding and, as if suddenly aware of the black woman, gestured toward the bed. "Oh, do put those down, dear. I didn't mean to have you stand there for so long."
Obediently, Leola did as she was told. Placing the other garments on the small bed, she stepped back quietly.
Lucinda held the gown up against herself so that Krystyna could get an impression of what it would look like on. The frock had a high neck, a blue and white bodice, and a dark blue skirt.
It was a little somber for Krystyna's taste, but she was truly grateful for the other woman's thoughtfulness.
"It is very nice." She took the gown from Lucinda. "I am afraid I was not thinking of clothing."
"Small wonder, what-all you've been through." Lucinda rolled her deep brown eyes toward the ceiling. "I think I would have died myself." She leaned forward, lowering her voice, as if the question shouldn't be overheard. "Did you really kill that man?"
Krystyna looked up into her awestruck face. "Yes." It was strange, but despite her jumbled emotions, not once had she had second thoughts about having taken that man's life. It had been of no consequence to her. Rather like stomping on an ugly spider. "Yes," she replied again. "I did."
Awkwardly, Lucinda patted her hand, thinking that perhaps the younger woman needed comforting. "Well, we're certainly grateful to you for that. I don't know what life here would be like without Jason," she added honestly. She didn't know why, but she felt she could talk to Krystyna, really talk to her. She didn't feel that way about anyone else. Except Jason perhaps.
"Don't you like the others?" Krystyna asked curiously as she began to change. Delicately, Lucinda turned her back to give Krystyna privacy. Leola stepped forward to assist Krystyna, treating her the way she would any other white mistress.
Krystyna stopped, surprised by the black woman's actions. Leola looked at her quizzically, waiting, wondering what was wrong. Krystyna nodded, a silent smile of thanks communicating everything that was necessary. The competent dark hands again began helping her shed her garment.
"It's not a matter of my liking them. I fear they don't really care for me. I seem to annoy Savannah and Aaron a great deal."
"And Mr. McKinley?" It would seem to her that he would be the one to be concerned about.
Lucinda shivered. She took in a deep breath. "Oh, he frightens me."
"Frightens you?" Krystyna asked. Yes, she could see someone like Lucinda being afraid of a man like Morgan McKinley. Still . . . "He seems like a fair man," she observed.
"Oh, he is, he is," Lucinda assured her hurriedly. In her enthusiasm, she turned toward Krystyna, then realized that the other woman wasn't dressed yet. Quickly, she turned away again. She twisted the ends of her shawl as she spoke. "But, well, he shouts a good deal, and I'm afraid that I cannot get used to that." Her voice dropped. "I'm far too fainthearted."
Krystyna turned as Leola was lacing the dress closed. She looked at Lucinda, not certain that she understood her new friend's meaning. "I think your heart is very kind."
Lucinda only smiled self-consciously in response.
"But you s
till have not told me why you like Jason so much." It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept going back to that infernal man.
Lucinda sat down on the chair. She rested her hands on the table and folded them primly, and Krystyna suddenly got the impression of an obedient child at school.
But Lucinda spoke with genuine fondness. "Oh, Jason is so kind and good. He makes me laugh, and he takes the time to explain things to me. Everyone else talks around me or at me. I suppose it's my own fault. I'm rather slow at understanding things, so no one thinks it is worth the trouble to try to talk to me very much, except, perhaps, to give me orders."
"Does this include your husband as well?" Krystyna asked.
Lucinda nodded unhappily. To Krystyna such a situation was unbearable. She would never allow herself to be ordered around like some inferior being. It suddenly occurred to her that that would have been the way of it, had she agreed to marry Andrej.
"Oh, Aaron's a good man," Lucinda said hastily. "He deserves to have a wife who would make him proud." She looked down at her hands.
Krystyna could hear the unhappiness in Lucinda's voice, and pity tugged at her heart. "You love him very much, do you not?" she asked gently.
"More than anything." Lucinda breathed out the words.
She didn't notice the look that Leola gave her. But Krystyna did. Was there hostility in the look? Or was that guilt?
"Does he deserve this measure of love?" Krystyna asked pointedly.
The question took Lucinda aback. Leola smiled to herself. It sure looked as if the McKinleys had gotten one lively lady, yes sir. Her father had been right last night. This lady was not what they were used to.
"Why, of course he does. Aaron is wonderful. He's intelligent, kind — "
Krystyna saw through the protests. "To you?"
The edges of the shawl became damp as Lucinda continued twisting them. "He ... he doesn't beat me," she murmured quietly. She remembered the words, and at times the physical blows, that her mother had had to absorb.
How horrible to count one's blessings by misfortunes that did not transpire. "Does he have others?" Krystyna pressed.
The question brought a look of pain to Lucinda's eyes, and Krystyna regretted it immediately. But since she had asked it, she waited for Lucinda to answer. She noticed a flash of guilt come to Leola's face and wondered at it.
"Yes," Lucinda acknowledged quietly. She hung her head, and tears gathered in her eyes. And then she raised her head again. "But all men have others," she said defensively.
"When I marry," Krystyna told her, "my husband will have no other, or he will not have me." She would settle for nothing less.
"Praise the Lord," Leola laughed. Then her hand flew up to her mouth. She hadn't meant for the words to come out. Miss Savannah would have her beaten for less.
But Lucinda laughed, and the tense moment was gone.
"You shall learn, I'm afraid, my dear, that men are not like that."
"Then I shall not marry." Krystyna adjusted the wide sleeves to her satisfaction. "No man is worth pain. I am ready," she pronounced.
"You look lovely," Lucinda said. There was no envy in her voice, only a sad wistfulness because nature had been kinder to Krystyna.
"Thank you. You truly are very kind. Now then," Krystyna linked her arm through Lucinda's as the other woman rose from her chair, "take me to your son."
"I'm afraid I'll have to take you to my husband first," Lucinda informed her. "Aaron would like to speak to you before you begin your instructions. And then we'll see about getting you some breakfast."
Krystyna smiled warmly. Until food was mentioned, she had not realized that the gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach was hunger. Among other things.
"That sounds wonderful." The two women walked out the door, Leola following in their wake.
Chapter Eleven
"That will be all, Lucinda," Aaron said to her after she had brought Krystyna into the study. He waved a hand toward the doorway without even looking in his wife's direction. Lucinda nodded and faded from the room, taking no affront at her husband's brusk manner.
Krystyna stood quietly before Aaron's desk, wondering what sort of person this stocky man was. She didn't care for the way he dismissed his wife, nor had she liked the way he had looked at her last night over dinner. There was something covertly lecherous about his gaze.
Perhaps she was too hasty in her judgments, she thought. After all, everything was so new to her. Perhaps she misunderstood the way things were. She would wait before forming her final opinion. Her father had always told her to let a man talk, for eventually he would give his own character away.
As she waited for Aaron to speak, she looked about the cluttered room. The heavy royal blue draperies combined with the dark wood paneling created a somber, scholarly atmosphere. There was a smell of leather and old books about it.
Aaron clasped his hands behind his neck as he looked at Krystyna over the barrier of his heavy mahogany desk. It didn't please him that she met his scrutiny head-on. "I cannot say that I am in total agreement with my father's choice of tutor for my son."
The way the woman looked at him made Aaron uneasy. She seemed to be studying him, and he didn't like being scrutinized. He pushed his chair away from the desk, stood up, and began to pace about the small room. He looked small in comparison to the towering shelves that lined the walls on two sides.
"But he is master of the house, and I will abide by his decision for now." He stopped to regard her again. It was a condescending look. "I take it that you do know history."
Aaron's addition of the words "for now" was not lost on her. The colt chafes to usurp the sire, she thought. From what she had seen of Morgan McKinley, it would take more than the desire to do so.
"I said I could teach it," she reminded him patiently. "That would imply knowledge."
She is impertinent, he thought. But impertinence in one so pretty could be overlooked. He felt his appetite sharpening. "Fine. I just want to make sure you will teach my son the right kind of history." With that, he pushed the three books on his desk toward her.
Krystyna simply glanced at the stack. So, along with his other failings, he was narrow-minded. What was it Lucinda saw in the man? "I am afraid I do not understand. History is history. It does not come in 'kinds.'"
She saw that her answer annoyed him. He let out an impatient breath before he explained his meaning. "I don't want any thoughts of rebellion put into Christopher's head." He resumed pacing, his own words agitating him. "My father believes in this rebellion that is forming around us. I do not. The less said about it, the better all around. For everyone. If people are not falsely enflamed, there will be no trouble and things will remain as they are. As they should be." He turned toward her, as if forming a bond. "As a former countess, you can appreciate that." He paused to see if she understood his meaning.
The man is little better than a pig, she thought. "To begin with, I am not a former countess. My title remains even if my lands temporarily are not in my possession. Furthermore, your son is but ten years old. He is a child. I do not think there is any danger of his running off to fight in the rebellion, should it materialize."
He didn't like being opposed. There was enough that was contrary in his life as it was. "My father had me working in the fields when I was ten."
The dark look on Aaron's face didn't intimidate her. She was her father's daughter and refused to be mutely obedient. "Working and fighting are two very different things. It has been a long time since the Children's War." The look on Aaron's face told her that he was unfamiliar with this part of history. "And," she continued, "if talk of this coming 'rebellion' of yours exists, then your son shall hear of it one way or another."
"It isn't my rebellion," he snapped heatedly. "I want no part of the rabble who only want to stir up trouble. It is just a matter of the poor being envious of the rich. It's always been that way."
Krystyna didn't wish to get into an argument about a matter
that didn't concern her. Her loyalties lay across the ocean. "I have no part in any of this at any rate. The battle that concerns me is elsewhere." She saw that her sentiments surprised him. Undoubtedly, he thought women had no opinions but those given to them. Another bigoted man to be dealt with. My father has spoiled me, she thought with a silent sigh. "I will teach your son about his heritage as a human being." She hoped that would put an end to the matter.
She crossed to the shelves closest to her and ran a hand along several of the books. The library was impressive. "I am sure I will find books here to help me." She turned to look at Aaron and saw that he was busy studying her. She didn't care for the expression on his face or the way he was looking at her. "Does your son know French?"
Aaron frowned. Her question was arrogant and ridiculous. "There's no need for him to learn that alien tongue."
How small-minded he is, she reflected. No wonder he displeases his father so. "There is a need for him to know a little of everything if he is to grow to be a man of his time. That way, he will never be caught lacking." When Aaron said nothing, she asked, "Shall I start his lessons today?"
Aaron shook his head. "No, today Christopher is to go into the fields with his grandfather." His frown deepened. "Worships the ground that man walks on," he muttered to himself.
"From what I can see, he might have a worse god," Krystyna said.
Aaron made no reply. To his mind, a son should look up to his father, not an old fool of a man who entertained notions of a rebellion that would upset the balance of everything Aaron had worked for all of his life.
"You will report to the nursery tomorrow at nine. The lessons will begin then. I will look in on you from time to time." His expression softened. "If things go well, you may have a pleasant time here."
Krystyna didn't care for the promise she detected in his words.
"I will teach your son well," she replied. "That will be pleasant enough."
With a nod of her head, she left the room, not waiting for Aaron to give her leave. She might have to work here, but no one was going to control her or her mind.
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