"Then I'm saved from a fate worse than death, for amenable I'll never be." Isabella stepped out of his reach. But to her horror he made a grab for her, grasping her hand. She tugged but he refused to release it.
"Now then, which fruit did you want?" he asked, his tone now quite pleasant. "Perhaps I can reach it without resorting to climbing the tree."
Isabella stared at him, then pointed to a bunch within easy reach for him. "That one, and those there." She breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally let her go then reached up to pluck them.
"Hold out your apron," he ordered, dropping the apples in. "There, will that satisfy Thelma?"
Pulling free the cloth tied round his neck, he used it to wipe his brow. As he retied it he watched her like a cat stares at a cornered mouse.
"I ... I think so." Isabella gathered her apron to her chest and turned to flee, but he caught her by the arm again.
"Bella. Satisfy my curiosity, will you?"
His soft tone made her suspicious. She watched him cautiously. "How?"
"Are you happy here in my household?" he asked softly, those strange eyes of his searching hers.
"As happy as any woman can be working for an Englishman." That was a dreadful lie, for she'd seldom been happier.
"You're not yet a woman, Bella. You have a lot to learn about how real women behave."
She disagreed, but wasn't about to go into that argument now.
He shrugged. "Enlighten me if you will. How did you come to hate the English so much you were willing to attempt to take a slice out of one and so put yourself in line for a hanging?"
Isabella pursed her lips, glaring at him. Why should she tell him anything? But then the fairness of her nature had to allow that he was right. He had saved her from an awful end. She'd seen that Irishman Malloy outside the trading store and his furious stare assured her he was still enraged with Tiger Carstairs for taking her away from him. She sensed Malloy wasn't finished with her. This was the first time Tiger had touched her, but if Malloy had had his way and won her at the wharf her body would likely be at the bottom of the cove by now after he'd finished using it.
She looked past him, nibbling her lip. "My ma was dragged away from Ireland and her family when she was almost sixteen. Her wealthy 'English' master decided he wanted her in his house in London." Her face twisted in a sneer. "She became a domestic maid. But 'twas not housemaiding he wanted her there for, was it? He raped her, didn't he? And her barely more than a week past her sixteenth birthday. When she found out she was having me she went to him pleading for help. The gent tossed her out that night. Without so much as a farthing and only the clothes she stood up in."
Isabella paused, clutching the bundle of apples to her middle. Looking past Tiger she pulled in a deep breath. "Papa was one of the first men wanting her body when she took to the streets, thank the Lord, for I dare say neither her nor me would be alive now."
"And is your stepfather also Irish?" he asked.
She shook her head, lifting her chin as she declared, "No, he was born in Spain."
"Ah, that would account for your first name, eh?"
"Aye, he was brought to England by a sea captain when he was a boy, but he was alone in the world when he met Ma. He's a fine man, the finest father anyone could have."
"So, how is it your name's O'Shea when your pa's Spanish?" Tiger asked quietly.
"Papa knew not where he came from, and couldn't recall his parents, so he took Ma's name. He always said 'twas because he loved her so much when first he set eyes on her." Wistfully she recalled the first time she'd heard the tale, when she'd been barely big enough to climb on his knee.
He nodded. "So, do you know who this nob is who fathered you, Bella?" She noticed his hands were clenched at his sides, as hers were. She would like to strangle the man who'd fathered her.
"No. I only know he's dead and buried. And in hell, I hope."
"Truth is then that you're half English, eh?"
She gave him a scornful glance and he had the gall to smile. "No!" Her retort was vehement. "That so-called gent may have sired me, but me real pa is now in Newgate. That's the only father I'll ever want to know."
"But you can't lump all Englishmen into the same packet because of what your mother suffered."
"Can't I?" Her nails dug into her palms. "I can hate the lot of you as much as I like." One of her fists came up and she shook it beneath his arrogant nose. "You're nothing but a bunch of lecherous scum! 'Twas an English gentleman who put a babe in my belly and took the only thing I could ever call my own—my innocence. Why do you think I tried to chop his cock off, eh?" His eyes had widened. Isabella knew a moment's satisfaction for giving him such a shock.
"A babe? So, are you still carrying the man's child?" There was a thread of disgust in his tone and briefly she wondered if it was for her or the English pig who'd raped her.
"Of course not. I'd be rounder than this now if I was. Don't you know anything about such things? I lost it while awaiting my trial."
He bent his head, but she refused to meet his eyes. She heard him curse and then he lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to look at him.
"It must have been hell for you," he said simply.
Isabella shrugged her shoulders with false indifference. "I was glad to get rid of it, wasn't I?" she lied.
"No doubt you were. The spawn of an Englishman. I begin to see . . . " With a lift of his shoulders he turned away from her.
"You see? Don't make me laugh. What would you know of a woman's suffering? How would you know what it feels like to have your pride stripped from you, and your virtue plundered? My Ma and Papa both blame themselves; Papa for not being there to protect me and Ma for having to let me go out foraging for food for the little ones." With a small sound of disgust she poked about in the dirt with the toe of her shoe.
"'Tis a cruel world, for sure," he said softly, and Isabella looked up in time to see a wealth of sympathy in his eyes. But instantly the look was banished as he glanced down at her bad foot.
"By the by. I was having a word with Doc Neale yesterday. He wants to have a look at your foot, Bella. He suggests you may be able to have something done to straighten your toes. Are you willing to let him look at them?"
Startled, she whispered, "Do you really think he'll be able to do anything for me?"
Tiger shrugged, warmed by the gleam of hope in her wide green eyes. What a puzzle she was. One moment a fighting, spitting she cat, the next an almost childlike waif. Here he had her all slotted into place in his mind, and she had surprised him yet again. Truth was he'd never known another woman to intrigue him so. "No harm in going to see the doc. He's quite a character in these parts. The Aborigines think he's a witch doctor, for he cures their children of no end of problems."
"I'd like very much to see him," she agreed quietly, stunning him with a dazzling smile.
"That's the ticket." Tapping her beneath the chin with a finger, he grinned. "You should smile more often. It makes you look quite pretty."
The smile disappeared to be replaced by a scowl and Tiger laughed. "You really must learn to see the funny side of things, little Bella. I was jesting with you. All right, so you've had a rough trot of it 'til now, but you're sure to break some man's heart one day with your looks, and I've a feeling it's going to be your lover."
"What lover?" Her brows shot together.
Tiger eyed her speculatively. "Our Dougal. So, he's never touched you, eh? You lied to me, did you not? You've never had a man touch you in shared passion. That is if we discount the English nob who forced himself on you and got cut up for his efforts."
"'Tis no business of yours," she retorted. Haughtily she tossed her head and her mobcap fell to the ground. She bent to pick it up and two of the apples dropped. Tiger retrieved them, and as he returned them to her apron her blush deepened. For a moment, bewitched, he watched the color creeping up her face.
"Everything you do is my business, Bella my girl, and has been from the m
oment I picked you out at the wharf. And don't you forget it." Taking the cap from her hand he plunked it on her head, then pulled her forward with a fist on either side of it. When her face was level with his shirtfront he lowered his head until his nose touched hers. "If I had a mind to I could take you right here beneath my own apple tree. Could slake my body's needs on your scrawny body, then take you to my bed every night until I tired of you."
"Let me go!"
As she shrieked the order she lifted her hands to thump his chest and the apples tumbled. He released her cap so he could clasp her wrists.
"Never!" The word escaped like an angry curse.
When his mouth covered hers she went ramrod stiff in his arms. Her heart, and his own, thumped in unison as they met, chest to chest.
His tongue probed, and she opened her mouth without resistance. She shivered and he tasted her. He'd never tasted anything sweeter; she was honey and wine, ambrosia. Her back arched and he pressed his aroused flesh hard against the softness of her. Dear God, heat was flooding his loins, a hunger such as he'd never known filled his vitals. Need filled every part of him, a yearning so potent it was like a pain constricting his chest. And she was going soft and yielding. For him. Desire for her, strong and encompassing blanked out all reason. He heard a soft moan and realized it came from her.
Stunned, he pulled back, his breathing labored. She almost stumbled as he let her go. Staring at her astonished face, at her kiss-swollen lips, he could see she was as amazed as him.
Why the hell had he done that? What a fool! He'd never intended to touch the chit. He felt as if he'd been stripped bare, made vulnerable. How could he have let her get to him that way? Always he was in control of his emotions.
Her sweet lips were trembling; his own felt an almost irresistible urge to repeat what they'd just savored. With a muffled oath he raked his fingers through his hair, self-disgust warring with another untapped emotion, best not dwelt on.
Turning on his heel, he strode away.
Isabella watched his stiffly held back as she touched her mouth. The hot man smell of him still surrounded her, making her feel faint, making her tremble with a strange awareness.Her lips felt soft and warm. Were they or her fingers trembling so? Or both. A quivering deep inside that began the moment he'd claimed her mouth refused to stop. It pooled in the centermost part of her, the core of her womanhood. The place that ached with an unfamiliar yearning. She teetered on the edge of a precipice.
Ye gods! Why had he kissed her? And why had she let him?
Not for one moment had she felt threatened or felt as if he would take her against her will. Never before had she felt the desire to plead with a man to quench the fires he'd aroused in her.
So that was what shared passion was all about.
In a daze Isabella bent to collect the scattered apples. She felt different somehow, as if he'd taken her apart and put her back together again, mixing all the parts up until she had become a stranger to herself.
With jerky movements she went back to the house, the apples clutched against a heart that still beat in double time.
Chapter Six
"So the doc couldn't do anything to help you?" Thelma asked, her eyes soft with sympathy.
Isabella looked down at her deformed foot. "No, Thelma."
She'd put great store by this visit, building her hopes until she'd been sick with thinking about the possibility of walking without the limp.
Tiger Carstairs, as promised, had taken her to see Doctor Neale, driving her there and back almost silently. Why he'd bothered, Isabella didn't know. He'd barely spoken to her in the past week since the incident beneath the apple tree. Her indignation reached fever pitch. Let him ignore her. What did she care? She was happy to be ignored by the arrogant swine.
"He did say he could perhaps break the bones and reset them," she said wistfully. "But it would be such a task and so painful he can't see the point. May not do much good anyway." She shrugged. "I've grown used to the limp. No decent man's likely to be looking twice at me anyway." Vainly she tried to conceal her low spirits.
"Is that what you really think, Bella? Goodness me, take a good look at yourself next time you're near a mirror. You're a pretty woman."
Isabella made a rude sound. "You don't have to spin me tales, Thelma. I'm never likely to have men chasing after me. Leastwise, not for any other reason than to make me their whore."
"Don't talk daft, girl. What about Dougal? He thinks the sun shines out of your ears." Thelma gave Isabella a soft nudge.
"Ah yes, Dougal." Isabella laughed, staring at her hands. "But he's as daft as me. I could never see him as any more than a dear friend."
Thelma shook her head. "And one day you'll break his heart for sure."
"Oh Thelma, why can't you order yourself to have feelings for someone when you know they love you," Isabella asked, sighing.
"Don't ask me such things." Thelma resumed the podding of the peas. "I know nothing about affairs of the heart, my dear."
"Oh no? You and Gillie certainly are a pair well matched. He worships the ground you walk on. When did you first realize you loved Gillie?" Isabella sat down opposite Thelma, leaning her elbows on the table.
Thelma stopped her podding and gazed out the window. "The first time he stuck his neck on the line for me. We were transported out here on the same ship. In them days men and women used to come over together, and believe me the goings on on that ship are best not spoken about." She paused, then went on, "Gillie was caught poaching in Kent an' they put him on a hulk in the Thames. He reckons it was the best day of his life when they sentenced him to ten years over here."
"But he's free now, and so are you. Why do you stay with Tiger Carstairs when you could be off working your own property?" Isabella knew she would be off like a shot if she had her ticket of leave.
"Bless my soul, we wouldn't leave Tiger. We're family. Gillie's in his element looking after the sheep and he can come and go as he pleases. Soon we'll have a house of our own, instead of the one room out back, if all goes well and Tiger gets a land grant over the mountains. But we'll always look after Tiger, wherever he goes. And when he gets wed we'll take care of his missus too."
"Is he likely to marry soon?" Isabella felt a pang of dismay at the idea. Obviously because she couldn't see any English wife of Tiger Carstairs wanting a skinny Irish biddy working in her kitchen, she told herself.
"Bless me, no. He's only thirty, an' in his prime. As far as I know he hasn't set his cap at any one in particular. Mind you there are a few females in the colony, free and indentured who'd like to warm his bed." Thelma waved a pea pod at Isabella and laughed.
Isabella turned away. The man was no better than a stallion if the tales she'd heard about him were true. And what infuriated her was, at least from stories she'd overheard after church, that the women who whispered about his exploits with a touch of shock were also the ones who fluttered their eyelashes and blushed coyly when he happened to allow them the time of day.
"Oh, how grand it must be to be a man, eh? They come and go as they please, take whatever women tickle their fancy, then discard them without a second's thought when they tire of them." Isabella got up and went to the window. "I wish I'd been born a man. This world was made for them."
"Maybe so. But what about them having to provide a roof over our heads eh? And food for us to eat. They can't just sit back and say, I think I'll take a few weeks off, the animals will thrive without being fed and shorn and protected, the crops will plant and harvest themselves."
"But they'd not get far without us women to wash their linen and cook that food they've carefully grown."
"I guess it works both ways, then. A truly perfect combination is when a pair work together to make life go smooth for each other."
"Oh, Thelma, you think that way because you have Gillie."
"And someday you'll have a husband who cares for you, then you'll think the same as me. Likely it will be Dougal."
Isabella drew in a ra
gged breath and kept her thoughts to herself. Much as she liked and respected him she couldn't see herself ever thinking of Dougal as a husband. But who else was likely to give her a moment's thought?
Certainly not the man who filled her every waking thought, and most of her dreams, these days.
Chapter Seven
Isabella frowned. Thelma looked so frail. There was only one thing for it. "I'll go to the doctor's house and pick up some medicine for you," she decided. She couldn't bear to see her friend suffer with this body-racking cough.
"No, dear." Thelma sat on one of the high-backed chairs, a hand to her temple. Massaging the pale skin she shook her head. "I don't want you going off on your own. 'Tis too far."
Isabella waved a hand. "Goodness me, what harm can come to me on the road to town? You've been coughing real bad through the night, and the medicine the doctor mixes up for you is the only thing that eases it."
"I know, but best wait until the men come in from the fields." Another bad spasm had Thelma striving to catch her breath.
Isabella picked up one of her blue-veined hands and stroked it. "I hate to see you this poorly, Thelma."
"But it's too far for you to walk." Thelma wheezed with each breath she took.
"Nonsense." Isabella tapped her chest. "I'm as fit as can be now and a little walk on such a nice day won't do me any harm."
In truth she was worried sick by Thelma's insistent coughing. Gillie was too and only last evening he'd mentioned taking her into town again to visit the doctor. But she needed the medicine right now.
"It's eight miles or more." Thelma shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know, Bella. Tiger will go mad if he knows I've let you go all that way alone."
Isabella gave her a confident smile. "I'll get a ride on a dray or wagon easy enough. There's always plenty of farmers going in to town at this time of the day. Tiger won't even know I'm gone. I'll be back before they get in for their evening meal, you'll see."
"I don't know." Thelma still grumbled as Isabella tied her bonnet strings. "It's in King Street, you know," she reminded her as Isabella went to the door.
Mystic Mountains Page 6
