by Unknown
"How quaint," Lavinia commented with venom, and Adrian pulled his attention reluctantly from Danielle and transferred it to the other woman who'd propped against a tree a few yards from them to study them with malicious eyes.
His eyes widened a moment as they rested upon her and then narrowed coolly. "What an interesting picture you would make, Madam. I would entitle it Eve and the serpent in Eden, I think."
Lavinia, who had begun to smile at his first words, gave him a blank look of incomprehension, though there was dawning indignation in her pale eyes as well.
"I think," Adrian added, "that you should step very slowly and carefully to your right. Slowly. No sudden moves."
She stiffened, seemingly frozen in place as Adrian pulled his knife from his waistband.
"Now, I think, would be a very good time to begin," Adrian said pointedly, hefting his knife by the blade.
Lavinia stared at him wide-eyed for several moments but finally eased away from the tree and took a cautious step, her eyes never leaving the blade in his hand. The others got slowly to their feet, the men watching Adrian in baffled anger, Danielle staring at Lavinia in horror. Lavinia took another cautious step, and Adrian sent the blade flying. It buried itself into the tree trunk with a dull twang that drew everyone's riveted gaze.
The serpent, pinned by its head to the tree, thrashed frantically, its long, muscular body flailing about like a whip. Lavinia stared at it open mouthed for a suspended moment before she shrieked, ear-splittingly, and cast herself upon the captain's chest, wailing hysterically.
Danielle swallowed convulsively, repressing a shudder as she stared at the writhing snake in sick fascination. She thought she might be violently ill. She felt strangely lightheaded as well and blinked her eyes, trying to fight it off. "A neat trick, my lord," she managed between lips that felt oddly awkward. He pulled his gaze from the snake and turned to look at her, and she tried to summon a cocky grin. It fell sadly flat. "Don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Or the snake. Must be six feet long."
Adrian muttered a curse under his breath and pulled her tightly against him. She was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. "You're not going to faint, are you, infant?"
She heard the faintest trace of a smile in his voice and tried to rally. "Of course not," she said crossly and promptly made a liar out of herself.
Chapter Eighteen
It was unlikely, Danielle thought with a mixture of chagrin and amusement as she picked her way cautiously through the forest in search of fire wood, that Lavinia would ever forgive her for fainting when she hadn't thought to do it. She'd been giving Danielle evil looks ever since the incident that morning. As if she'd done it just to make herself interesting. It wouldn't have occurred to her in a million years to feign such a silly stunt only to be noticed. She didn't need that kind of attention.
Of course, it had been extremely gratifying to come to her senses and find herself in Adrian's arms, his concerned face bent over her. But it was embarrassing as hell to pass out only because she'd just seen the biggest bleedin' snake she'd ever seen in her life, when it hadn't even been near her and was dead besides.
She felt extremely foolish. And Adrian's concern, though obviously quite genuine, had made her feel even more foolish and uncomfortable. She was used to taking care of herself. She wasn't accustomed to having anyone else take care of her, or want to. And yet, the incident seemed to have aroused Adrian's protective instincts and his possessiveness to the fullest.
Which was another reason she'd encountered more than her fair share of evil looks from the merry widow that day. Lavinia, Adrian had completely ignored, so that she'd gravitated even more pointedly in the captain's direction for protection.
She wondered if it wasn't more possessiveness than protectiveness that had caused Adrian's apparent complete disregard for appearances. For it occurred to her that it was a very blatant way of staking his complete and indisputable claim to her. She might have objected to it under other circumstances. As it was, she could only be very grateful. She had no desire to become intimately acquainted with Bull or Tom.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, she straightened from picking up a dry tree limb and discovered that Bull was standing only a few yards away, watching her with a decidedly unpleasant gleam in his eyes. Her mouth went dry with fear, and for several moments she couldn't force herself to think.
"A little far from camp, ain't you, my lady," he said with a distinctly nasty leer, emphasizing the form of address insultingly.
Danielle blushed. So the others had heard Adrian. No doubt they'd gotten a real belly- And Danielle is mine," Adrian said in a deceptively pleasant voice, and both Danielle and Bull whirled towards the sound of his voice, for they'd been so intent they hadn't noticed his approach. "I'm pleased to see you've discovered the correct form of address for my lady. You won't forget it?" Adrian added as he reached Danielle and halted beside her.
Bull scowled. "She's no lady!" he spat.
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "Au contraire! We differ. I say she's every inch a lady sans silks and satins. If you forget it again, I'm very much afraid I'll have to kill you," he said coldly.
Bull swallowed, eyeing Adrian appraisingly for several moments before his eyes slid to Danielle's pale, frightened face. He looked at Adrian again. "Maybe."
Adrian's brows rose. "Maybe? You doubt? Perhaps I should just kill you now," he said musingly.
Bull licked his dried lips. "Maybe I was wrong," he said sullenly. He didn't quite like the look that came to Adrian's eyes then and hastened to amend the comment. "'Spect I was." He turned then and moved back towards camp.
Danielle wanted to drop her bundle of sticks and throw herself into Adrian's arms. She restrained herself with an effort. "He won't back down again," she said and bit her lip.
Adrian didn't look at her. He was watching Bull's departure through narrowed eyes. "Probably not. I think. No, I'm quite certain I'll have to kill him one day very soon." He turned to Danielle then, studying her for a long moment, his face unreadable.
Danielle gazed back at him, looking as forlorn and frightened as she felt. She was afraid for herself, naturally. She didn't doubt for a moment that, should Bull and Tom have their way, the brutal assault she'd endured years before would pale by comparison.
But she was terrified for him. She knew that he could take care of himself in most circumstances. And she wasn't even particularly alarmed by the fact that Bull was a much larger man. The thing was, Adrian was a gentleman. He could have no notion of the sort of low tricks a 'street fighter' would use. He would be at a disadvantage in any fight with the likes of Bull or Tom.
She couldn't bear it if he was hurt or killed trying to defend her. She would rather they killed her. Not even the other thing they might prefer to do to her, obscene though the thought was of them touching her after Adrian, could be as bad as that.
But then, it wasn't her so much as it was his masculine pride, was it? He'd claimed her, and he meant to keep what was his against all comers. It would've been the same if it had been Lavinia he'd decided to claim. Only it wasn't Lavinia. And, if he was killed, it would be her fault. She couldn't live with that. She knew she couldn't. She clutched her bundle of sticks more tightly to her and moistened her lips. "My lord, maybe you should just . . . give me to them . . . ."
Something flickered in his eyes, but his expression remained unreadable, and, when he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "Is that what you want?"
All she had to do was say yes, lie really well, and he would be safe. She'd be branding herself as a whore, of course, but when one came right down to it, she was, wasn't she? She could tell herself till she was blue in the face that it was different with Adrian, but that didn't make it different. "Aw well," she said, trying for an off-handed tone, though she found she couldn't hold his gaze, "it's no skin off my back one way or the other. But I figure you might as well save yourself some trouble, right?"
She wi
nced when he captured her chin and forced her to look up at him, trying frantically to dispel the tears that had blurred her vision. "I should beat you for lying," he said tightly. "Because you are lying, aren't you, love?"
She bit her lip. It was the final test. All she had to do was look him dead in the eyes and convince him that she didn't die a little inside at the very thought of him giving her away. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "No," she managed.
He lifted a dark brow. "No, what? No, you're not lying? No, it doesn't matter to you?"
His voice was chilling and his expression worse. She closed her eyes against it. "Look at me, damn you! Do you have so little faith in me, then? Do you think I can't protect you? You are mine, like it or not. Mine!"
Danielle knew when she had lost. She flung her bundle aside and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "I don't doubt you!" she said fiercely. "I don't, but they won't be playin' by the Marquis of Queensbury's rules."
"Neither will I."
Danielle looked up at him in surprise and relief, and he smiled down at her a little crookedly. "My dear child, you should know by now that I'll do what I must to protect my own. You see before you a knight in somewhat tarnished armor."
Danielle sniffed and smiled, shaking her head. "That I'll not allow. I see before me . . . ," she paused, studying him seriously now, "Adrian. Lord Beaumont, a very noble man."
A faint frown appeared between his brows. He looked away. "If you think that then you don't know me as well as you believe."
She touched his cheek and, when he looked at her once more, reached up to kiss him lightly, a quick kiss, no more. "I know you very well." She stepped away from him then, before he could think to question her further, and stooped to gather her kindling once more. He took it from her, to her astonishment, frowning her down when she objected, and they turned back towards the small clearing where they'd decided to make camp.
"I think it would be best if I kept you within sight at all times from here on out," Adrian said, and, though it was couched in terms of a suggestion, it was quite obviously a command.
Still, Danielle could find nothing objectionable in it. "Yes, my lord. Mightn't it be better, though, if we just left the others and went on alone?"
Adrian shook his head. "I'd prefer to know their whereabouts," he replied wryly. "At any rate, I couldn't leave Lavinia to their tender mercies. The captain is a decent enough sort, but rather like a fish out of water without his command. I don't think he could offer her much in the way of protection."
Danielle actively disliked Lavinia, but she could see his point. She wouldn't wish Bull and Tom on her worst enemy. Obviously, neither did Adrian. At least, she hoped that was the reason for his concern. He would not, surely, have left Lavinia to the captain's protection if there'd been anything between them?
No. She was certain of it. He had moved on, and she didn't think he would go back again once he'd taken that step. She must make certain she remembered that when he moved on once more. It would be better for her in the long run if she simply accepted that and did not allow herself to hope.
The rest of the travelers were gathered in a ragged, weary circle when Adrian and Danielle stepped into the camp area once more. Captain Tyler, using his pin knife, was in the process of fashioning a spit for their supper. Lavinia, who'd complained incessantly throughout the day, was staring, with a look of revulsion, at Tom and Bull, who were butchering a pair of rabbits Adrian had managed to capture in a crude snare he'd devised.
He'd told Danielle, jestingly, that they were fortunate game was so plentiful as to be falling over each other to be caught. Otherwise, the snares wouldn't have worked. But, although it was obviously true that game was plentiful, Danielle knew their good fortune stemmed from having Adrian to rely upon. Of the six of them, it might seem strange that the only gentleman amongst the group was also the only hunter, but that was the case nonetheless.
For Lord Beaumont was the only one amongst them who'd had both the leisure to acquire hunting skills and access to the forests.
On the whole, they hadn't done nearly as badly as they might have. Food was plentiful, and, as long as they could catch it, they were unlikely to starve. Game aside, the nuts and berries they'd found alone would have kept them from starving. From the palms, they'd harvested tiny, hairy-hulled nuts that tasted vaguely of coconut and bright orange plum-like fruits. From the briars, they'd collected fat, juicy black berries. They'd found mulberry trees, laden with more fruit than they could eat or carry, and tangles of wild grape dripping clusters of tart, tiny fruits and berries. One wouldn't wish to live a lifetime on such fare, but no one had gone hungry.
Fresh water, as it happened, was no problem either. Danielle had worried over their lack of it, and the lack of any vessel to carry it in should they find some. But they'd crossed several quite respectable brooks throughout the day as they'd followed their trail first west and then turned north upon another, until the sun had dropped from sight and they'd stopped to make camp.
They'd fashioned crude shelters for themselves out of palm fronds, merely for the solace that illusion of civilization offered them. The shelters were unnecessary and useless for any other purpose. The weather wasn't such that protection from the elements was a necessity, and should it rain, as it had much of the afternoon, it seemed doubtful their shelters would keep them even moderately dry. They were far too flimsy to keep the most timid of predators out, and no defense at all from the buzzing, stinging insects that began to appear near dusk and chewed on them throughout the long night. They did not keep out the terrifying night sounds, and they did not keep the suffocating blackness of the deepest, darkest night any had ever experienced away. Still, they offered the illusion of safety, and once Danielle had curled as tightly against Adrian as she could get, she managed to sleep at least fitfully. And she consoled herself with those blessings she could count.
When it came right down to it, all they really had to worry about, it seemed, was the Spanish, the Red Savages that inhabited these lands, the wild, man-eating beasts, and each other.
Chapter Nineteen
They weren't as ill equipped for survival as they'd at first believed. True, they had no guns for shooting game. Adrian's pistols weren't designed for that purpose, and, in any case, he had so little ammunition they agreed it must be saved for protection. Their only tools were the knives the sailors carried. They had no vessels for carrying water or cooking food. And, although they were adequately clothed for so mild a climate, they had no blanket rolls or tent to give them even a modicum of comfort. And, three of the six, Danielle, Bull, and Tom, were barefoot.
Still, Adrian's pistols kept them from being completely helpless. The knives the men carried were a poor defense except for hand to hand combat, and of no use in bringing down game. But they had a means of cleaning and skinning the game Adrian managed to snare, and a tool for hacking at branches and vines to clear a path when necessary. And, thanks to the nasty habit Captain Tyler had picked up in the colonies, smoking tobacco, they had the means to build a campfire, to give them comfort, to cook their food, and to keep wild animals at bay at night.
They were therefore none the worse for wear when they rose the next morning and set out again. They were stiff and sore, true, from sleeping on the ground. They'd all been nigh eaten alive by the blood sucking insects that had swarmed over them all night, leaving itchy, red welts that threatened to drive them all into a scratching frenzy. All were foot sore since none of them were accustomed to walking anything approaching the distance they'd traveled the day before; those with shod feet sporting painful blisters, and those unshod, despite their tough soles; cut, scratched, and bruised from sharp sticks, briars, stones, and acorns among other things. But they were well enough, and, with the exception of Lavinia, none of them complained.
They saw wild life with every step they took, many things different but recognizable, some things totally unrecognizable. Most things seemed harmless
enough. Some looked dangerous, whether they were or not. Birds and squirrels frisked and flitted amongst the branches overhead. Small, furry creatures scurried about the forest floor, disappearing from view at their approach or invisible altogether except for the bushes they set to rustling with their passage. An ugly, mottled creature that looked like an enormous rat darted across the trail in front of Lavinia and sent her, shrieking, into the captain's surprised but gratified arms. An enormous deer leapt onto the path another time, colliding with Bull and knocking him flat before bounding away again, too quickly for Adrian, who'd been as startled as the rest, to bring it down, though he'd drawn his pistol and leveled it with amazing speed.
They glimpsed a strange looking creature bristling with lethal looking quills that remotely resembled a hedgehog. They saw several odd looking 'masked' bandits that looked like a cross between a fox and a squirrel with their pointed ears and snouts and bushy tails. And, in the distance, (fortunately) they spotted some sort of small, mottled, bob-tailed cat that watched them for several long, unnerving moments as they froze upon the trail before it finally turned and slunk away into the underbrush. Danielle had a near brush with a deceptively enchanting little creature which Adrian assured her wasn't enchanting in the least, as it was almost certainly a polecat of some kind. And serpents. They saw snakes of every size and color, all repulsive and frightening, hanging from tree branches or slithering along the ground or skimming across the surfaces of the ponds and creeks they passed.
They saw no other humans, neither the Red Savages they'd all heard about, nor the Spanish, nor fellow Englishmen for that matter, so that they began to have the eerie feeling that they were the only humans in all this vast, fierce paradise they'd found themselves in. It was a relief, of course, to encounter none of the first two, for they were as near totally defenseless as none liked to contemplate. And though it came as no real surprise that they encountered none of the last, it was a disappointment as well. And gradually, an uneasiness began to settle upon them when they didn't come upon so much as a single sign of human habitation.
