My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  When at last they did, it wasn't much relief. Late into the afternoon of their fourth day, they came upon the ruins of a Spanish mission. Built of some sort of broken shell mortar, its roof had long since collapsed, and its walls were crumbling to the ground. It was obviously a place of antiquity, built, in all likelihood, nearly two hundred years earlier when the Spanish had sought to ensure their claims upon the lands by establishing missions throughout the territory they explored. Regardless, the mission provided little as a clue to their location. The Spanish had explored and settled widely throughout the new world.

  They didn't explore or seek refuge there, even from the heat. They gave the place a wide berth, for, although there was every indication that the mission itself had been long since abandoned, there were signs that people had passed it recently and camped quite near it. And they felt certain that whoever it had been, it was not someone they wished to encounter.

  The river they came upon some time later made their location almost a certainty. It was wide and obviously deep. The captain, after some thought, supposed it might be the St. Johns. In which case, they had definitely been tossed upon the shores of Spanish La Florida. He had no personal knowledge of the river, however, as it was Spanish claimed. But he'd heard tell that the river continued wide and deep as far inland as it had been explored, and that its course, once inland, was decidedly southerly.

  As they had no means of crossing it, they decided to follow it for a time in the interest of solving the mystery, and also in hopes of discovering some point where they might cross. Thus, they left the trail that had done much to ease their passage and struck off along the river bank on a westward course, following the wide expanse for what remained of their fourth day, camping on its banks that night, and continuing on well into the fifth day.

  Their pace was much slower, much more difficult. Adrian, seeing Danielle was having far more trouble keeping up than before, stopped her, stripped off his shirt, and proceeded to rip the sleeves from it. Danielle watched him curiously but said nothing. She was startled, however, when he commanded her to sit and, once she'd done it, knelt beside her, demanded her foot, and proceeded to wrap first one and then the other in the fabric. She stared at his bent head with a mixture of doubt, surprise, and pleasure and finally reached out to touch his dark hair in a hesitant caress of gratitude. He looked up at her then, studying her a long moment, and smiled wryly. "I doubt it'll help much, poppet, but it's surely better than no protection at all for your poor feet."

  She pinkened with pleasure at his words. She'd wondered at his motives and, though grateful regardless, had thought it more a gesture of expedience than concern. His words, confirming the last, sent a pleasurable warmth through her. "Thank you, my lord," she managed, more deeply grateful for the concern even than the gift itself. "It'll be easier now, I think."

  His gaze became penetrating for several moments before dark color seeped into his cheeks, and he looked away uncomfortably, rising and pulling her to her feet once more. Bull and Tom, they discovered, had opted to try wrapping their feet as well, and they waited for them to complete their task before continuing on.

  By mid-afternoon of the next day, they'd managed to prove that the river that blocked their path was almost certainly the St. Johns. It was a relief to have some tangible evidence at last that they'd been fortunate enough to be tossed ashore on the right continent. No one had any desire, however, to follow it further, since it was leading them away from the direction in which they needed to go. Nor, in all the time they'd followed its course, had it shown any signs of becoming less of a barrier.

  It could not be forded. It was far too deep, and, of them all, Adrian was the only one who had any chance of swimming it, though even he was somewhat doubtful about the distance. Neither Danielle nor Lavinia could swim a stroke. Captain Tyler claimed to have some knowledge of it but, in the same breath, evidenced sincere doubts that he could swim half so far. And neither Bull nor Tom were capable of doing much more than keeping themselves afloat for a brief period of time. However, they were the rule. Adrian was the exception. Few, sailors among them, ever learned how to swim.

  They were hot, anxious, and weary unto the point of dropping where they stood, and since it seemed they'd come upon an insuperable problem, they sat down to argue over it. Or Lavinia, Captain Tyler, and the seamen did. Adrian ignored them, studying the river thoughtfully for a time before he rose and, summoning Danielle, began to search the riverbank in an ever widening circle. "What're we looking for?" Danielle asked finally when it seemed he had no intention of volunteering the information.

  "Anything that will float. Something to build a raft of sorts. I built one once, a raft, when I was scarcely out of shortcoats, to sail the lake on my father's estate. I'm afraid it wasn't a great success. Nevertheless, it needn't be grand or even particularly seaworthy. All we need is something to keep us afloat long enough to reach the other side."

  Bull and Tom, they discovered, had followed them. "An' how'r we supposed to build a raft?" Bull demanded. "We ain't got tools."

  "Nor rope neither," Tom put in.

  "We have our knives," Adrian said pointedly. "I suggest we make use of them and do our best. Arguing certainly won't get us across. And I'm not anxious to linger on this side of the St. Johns with the Spanish. We've been lucky so far, but I wouldn't wager on the odds of it continuing."

  They found vines, in lieu of rope, without any difficulty. Vines of many varieties grew in great profusion all over the area so that it was only a matter of picking and choosing amongst the most supple. Lumber was another matter altogether. It surrounded them, and yet, without axes, it was unattainable. They settled, for the most part, for young saplings, but even those took a great deal of time and labor to fell and trim with nothing to hack through their slender trunks but knives. And though they found two wind-felled trees, already dried, and far better than the saplings, as they were more buoyant, and used them to make the bulk of their awkward craft, those, too, had to be trimmed to be of any use.

  It took the best part of a fortnight to build their raft. At that, it was nothing more than a float to hold on to. Their most strenuous efforts had served to produce a craft that would seat no more than half their number, theoretically. In actuality, water washed over it, and it dipped precariously the moment Lavinia, who'd demanded a place on board, stepped foot on it, dumping her into the river so that she had to be fished out once more.

  No one had any great desire to test it after that, and none of them had any real belief that it would even keep their heads above water, regardless of Adrian's assurances that it would, that they need only to hold on, kick vigorously to propel it, and they would be across. However, when it came right down to it, they had no other choice as none of them could come up with a better solution.

  Still, they approached it with the feeling of going to their doom. Adrian waded out to the front of the craft first, taking his place on one side and directing the others to balance it out, three to a side. They simply stared back at him in consternation for a time, but finally Danielle, with an air of martyrdom, waded out and positioned herself opposite Adrian. She had no real belief that they would reach the other side alive, but she would go wherever Adrian lead, her look told him.

  Studying her, he felt an odd mixture of emotions that frequently plagued him now. It was humbling to have any human being place their life so absolutely and trustingly in one's hands. And it was frightening. It gave one the awful fear of failing that trust and a weighty sense of responsibility of the sort Adrian had never cared for, so that he was mildly irritated withal. But it gave him a sense of determination as well, determination not to fail her. And it made him both proud of her for her unflagging courage and pleased with himself. For he felt her faith in him somehow made him worthy of her high regard.

  After some moments' hesitation, the others reluctantly joined them, and they pushed off. Everyone, Adrian excluded, felt a momentary sense of panic when their feet l
eft the river bottom, but, as they remained afloat, panic receded and determination took its place.

  Next to the shipwreck itself, the trip across the St. Johns on their flimsy raft was easily the most terrifying experience any of them had ever endured. Despite Adrian's directions and their earnest efforts to comply, the river's current, once the full force seized them, carried them miles down stream before they managed to fight their way across and pull loose from the main drag into the slower current nearer the riverbank. There, they very nearly met with total calamity, for the battering currents in conjunction with their own struggles, had loosened the vines that held their raft together, so that it began to break up before they were much more then three quarters of the way across.

  Captain Tyler and Bull, seeing the riverbank, and thus safety, that was only a few yards distant by this time, released their hold and struggled for the shore. The raft, unbalanced now, slued sideways, dipped, bucked, and began to break up more rapidly. Lavinia, who'd been berating god, the fates, and everyone in her vicinity for getting her into the situation from the moment Adrian had forced her to take her place among them, shrieked when the pole she was holding suddenly came loose and grabbed frantically for Adrian, so that they both went under. In a moment, they resurfaced, but Lavinia was like a wild thing, so crazed with fear that it seemed likely she and Adrian would both drown.

  Danielle was feeling rather panic stricken herself. She and Tom had been left in sole possession of the disintegrating raft, which had begun to revolve in the current in a dizzying circle even as it floated away. Moreover, she was torn between her instinct to save herself and an idiotic notion that she must save Adrian, that she had to do something. She was on the point of advising him to knock the bleedin' sow senseless when he did just that, and her last view, before the raft spun her away, was of him pulling towards shore with a semi-conscious Lavinia in tow.

  She was able then to turn her full attention to her own problem, which was becoming more desperate by the moment. They were rapidly pulling away from the others now, without showing any appreciable gain on the river bank. She considered releasing the raft as Bull and Captain Tyler had and trying to reach the shore, but somehow she couldn't make herself release it.

  The memory of her last near scrape with drowning was still too vivid in her mind. She'd felt a precarious sense of security as long as Adrian was close by. Without him, she could think of nothing except those terrifying minutes when she'd needed so desperately to breathe and couldn't. She yelled frantically at Tom, who was cursing in a steady stream, to kick harder, felt the raft bob under with a sharp lurch, and went under with it, strangling on the mouthful of river water she inhaled.

  It was several minutes after she resurfaced before she could control the spasm of coughing that seized her. When finally she could breathe more easily, she looked around and discovered that the raft was no more than a foot wide now and that Tom was nowhere in sight. Her mind couldn't seem to accept it or understand it. He couldn't have left her completely alone! He couldn't have! She began calling for him, searching the expanse of water between her and the riverbank and the riverbank itself. She searched the waters around her but could see nothing except the pieces of their raft racing away from her.

  She screamed in terror when the raft bucked again, certain this time it would go down and take her with it. But then Adrian was there, beside her. She clutched at him, disbelieving. "Adrian?" He was real, solid, not a terror produced image for comfort. Her relief in discovering he was indeed there was profound. She burst into tears. "Old Tom, he left me. He just went off and left me," she wailed tearfully, sounding very much like the frightened child she felt at the moment.

  Adrian gave her a few moments to calm herself, murmuring soothing words while he held her, one armed, clutching the remains of the raft with the other. He needed a moment's respite. He'd been an adequate swimmer in his youth, no more. And it had been years since he'd attempted it at all. He gave thanks now for the many hours he'd spent in the boxing salons, perfecting his swordsmanship, and on horseback that had strengthened his body beyond what his excesses had weakened it. He gave thanks, too, that his father had given orders that he be taught to swim after his second brush with drowning in the estate's lake.

  "Hush, infant. Be quiet and listen to me," he said when Danielle had calmed somewhat, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to look up at him. "Do you trust me to keep you safe, sweetheart?"

  She nodded, without hesitation, without even the barest trace of doubt in the liquid brown eyes that returned his regard, and Adrian felt again that odd mixture of emotions that made his chest feel achingly tight. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, his gaze more tender than he knew. "Good girl. You'll have to be very good for me. Don't fight me. I'm going to carry you to shore. You must stay calm. If you struggle, if you fight me, we may both drown. I can't fight you and swim too. Do you understand?"

  She swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak.

  He bent his head and kissed her, fleetingly. "Let go of the raft. Now."

  She tried. She really did. But somehow, she couldn't seem to command her fingers to loosen their grip. She looked at Adrian beseechingly. "Leave me," she managed through chattering teeth. "Just leave me. Save yourself."

  "No!" he said angrily, gripping her jaw almost painfully. "Not in this lifetime! You are mine of your own free will. You gave yourself to me, all of yourself. Was it lightly done? Do you take it back now? I won't allow it!"

  She clutched at his soaked shirt, squeezing her eyes shut. "No. Not lightly, but . . . ."

  "But? If you doubt now, then it was no more than a lie and a cheat. Or was the trust a lie?"

  "No!" she wailed. "No. But, I'm so scared, Adrian! I'm so scared!"

  He pulled her tightly against him, but his words were harsh still, uncompromising. "If you care for me, Danielle, you'll let go and come with me. Otherwise, we'll both surely drown, for I won't leave you, and this bit of raft'll not hold us afloat forever."

  She released the raft and clutched at him. They bobbed under and came up again. "Steady now. Good girl. Quiet now. Be still," he calmed her, peeling her loose and situating her before he struck off for shore.

  She was only vaguely aware of his calming words, but they did calm her somehow. She lay stiffly, awkwardly, too terrified to think or respond to his directions. Each time water washed over her face to strangle her, panic washed over her with it. After a few moments, however, she realized that she wasn't sinking, that the water washed over her but didn't claim her. Some of the stiffness left her then. She learned to gasp for air when she surfaced and hold her breath when she dipped under. And still it seemed like aeons before they reached the shore and struggled shakily up the riverbank to collapse in a heaving, shaking heap.

  Long minutes passed before they could breathe in a manner even approximating normal. Neither was in any state for movement, beyond breathing, and even that took great effort. Their bodies felt lead weighted, as if they'd been anchored to the ground. Danielle's teeth chattered audibly and at three times the rate of her furiously pounding heart. But finally, her senses swam upwards from semi-conscious, and her madly chattering teeth slowed to an occasional shiver.

  Adrian reached for her, pulling her across him and rolling so that he lay half atop her, their legs entwined, his left hand splayed just beneath her breast. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and tucked her head against his shoulder, breathing more easily at last. "Christ! That was close. I thought for a bit there we weren't going to make it."

  "Jiminey!" Danielle muttered against his chest. "I do hope we made it to the right side of the river. It'd be a bleedin' shame, it would, if we went through all that an' found we'd got turned around an' were right back where we started from."

  Adrian pulled away and looked down at her, narrow-eyed. "You have a warped sense of humor."

  She grinned and chuckled huskily. "Not a bit o'it! But, seems to me I've only to get on a bleedin' ship
for it to go down. An' I figure, with me luck, it's more likely than not we got turned around."

  Adrian bent his arm and propped his head on his hand, studying her thoughtfully. She'd spoken, he realized now, with almost perfect diction since they'd wrecked. Was it stress that made her revert to old habits now? Or was she, either consciously or unconsciously, trying to put a safer distance between them? Was she reminding him of his place? Or herself?

  He frowned slightly, reaching up to brush her cheek where sand clung to it before his hand settled once more along her rib cage. Did he need such a reminder? Quite possibly, for, in their present circumstances, he found that the difference in their stations meant less and less to him, found that he hadn't even thought about it since the morning they'd woke on the beach. The question was, then, did he want the reminder? He did not.

  Nothing had changed, really. He was still the son of the Duke of Remming. Danielle was still his indentured servant, a child of the streets. Or that would be their roles once they reached civilization once more. For now, they were only survivors, equals. He rather relished the notion and the sense of freedom it gave him. As much as he relished the challenge this land presented him with, to conquer it and survive. Surely all else paled to insignificance now? Society, civilization, was far away. For now it was enough simply to be alive. "What a snob you are, child!" he rebuked her gently.

  She gazed up at him blankly.

  He smiled faintly. "You throw your origins in my face like a challenge whenever I try to get too close, do you not? Can you not let it lie for a bit? Can you not enjoy today and worry about tomorrow when it comes?"

  Hurt showed briefly in her eyes before they became shuttered and unreadable. She thought to deny the charge, but it was true. She considered begging him to accept the pitifully inadequate barriers she was trying to erect against future pain. She decided to abandon both the denial and her pathetic bulwarks against the future. Neither, she knew, would avail her in the end. It was far too late to think that they might, and the prize he dangled before her was just too sweet to resist. "Aye," she said slowly. "I'll grant you that, my lord. Whatever you desire, my lord."