Sweet Savage Eden

by Heather Graham

  “I do pray by the hour that the earth shall open and swallow you whole! Nay, a bear should lay claim to you!

  A sea monster should seize you. Indians should roast and consume your flesh—”

  “Jassy, I understand your meaning, thank you.”

  He strode to the door, fully assuming that she would do as he told her. And she would. She knew that he would carry out any threat, and she dared not take the chance that he would touch her again.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she called out.

  He swung around and looked at her with a certain surprise. “I don’t really know. Aye, maybe I do. Believe it or not, Miss Dupré, I’d just as soon not see you wind up a tavern whore or a common thief. That neck is too pretty to be broken by a noose.” He smiled suddenly, and it was a surprisingly gentle smile for the man.

  “You remind me of Virginia,” he said softly, and then he left her, closing the door tightly behind him.

  IV

  Jassy was soon glad that she had dressed quickly, for it seemed that Jamie Cameron had barely gone before he returned. Smoothing the velvet down over her stomach, she stepped back as the man entered, Robert following close behind him.

  “A vision!” Robert swore. He came to her and fell to his knees, then swept his hat from his head and cast it over his heart. “My lady, you are a vision, indeed!”

  “And no lady, Robert, but you are very kind.”

  She flushed and glanced at Jamie Cameron. He didn’t say a word. He studied her with his dark gaze.

  “Will it do?” she demanded.

  “Aye, it will do. Let’s be on our way.”

  He stepped toward Lady Tewesbury’s things once again and quickly selected a fur-trimmed cloak. He tossed it to Robert, who set it around her shoulders, then he called to the tavern keeper and asked that the rest of the things be wrapped for them. A curious silence reigned among them all the while they waited. When the clothing was wrapped, Jamie took the bundle. Apparently he had already paid the tavern keeper, and paid him well, for he was all smiles as they left. Outside in the cold again, Jassy was startled to see that a third horse was being held by the stableboy.

  Jassy looked to Robert, who grinned with pleasure. “Well, she’s a decent enough filly, I think.”

  “No bloodlines,” Jamie murmured.

  “She’s beautiful, Robert. I thank you for letting me use her.”

  “She is yours,” Robert said.

  “No, I cannot accept her, but she is very fine, and I thank you for her use.”

  Robert looked sheepishly to Jamie, and Jamie firmly shook his head. “Let me help you mount.”

  He set his arms about her. Jamie watched as he lifted her high, setting her upon the mare’s back.

  “What is her name?” Jassy asked.

  “I don’t know.” Robert looked to the stableboy. “Lad, what is her name?”

  The lad blushed a furious red. “ ’Tis Mary, sir.” He hesitated. “Virgin Mary.”

  “Oh?” Robert lifted a brow in laughter.

  “Ye see, me ma yelled at me pa when he bought her, she did. Said that this was a hauling place and that we needed such a filly just as a brothel might need the Virgin Mary.”

  “That’s blasphemous!” Jassy gasped, trying hard not to laugh.

  “Ah, so, ’tis an Anglican country now, thanks to good Bess.” Robert chuckled and waved to the blushing boy. Jamie tossed him a coin, and the three of them started out.

  For most of the journey she rode with Robert, and Jamie rode ahead in silence. They talked of the trail, and they talked about new modes of French fashion, and about the great discoveries in the world. She realized that he kept talking to keep her mind off her mother’s death, and it seemed impossible that it was still so near.

  Later in the day they stopped along a great forest in order to water the horses, and Robert left them alone, seeking the privacy of the trees. Jassy listened to the brook as it rippled, and the slurping sounds made by the horses as they sought water. She was sore; she was not accustomed to riding but to scouring floors and peeling potatoes.

  She looked up and discovered that Jamie Cameron was staring at her as ever with his dark and enigmatic eyes. She looked over at the filly, then challenged him. “Bloodlines mean so very much to you, then, Lord Cameron?”

  He shrugged. “In a horse, mistress? Often. Certain animals are bred for racing, some for stamina, and others for strength.”

  “Ah, yes, and in people, too, I would imagine! For certain, nobility breeds grace!”

  He was still for a moment, then he shook his head slowly. “Nay, mistress. In beasts, as in people, one must be very careful. Bloodlines can be overbred and thus weakened. If you have brought in too fragile a dam for a stud, your colts will be tiny, and brittle in their bones. Sometimes it is best to go outside of the bloodlines and add new excitement to the line.”

  He spoke casually, yet there was that timbre to his voice, the way he looked at her, that made her feel as if hot tremors racked her inside. She turned away from him, wishing that she had never met him. There had surely been nothing wrong with his bloodlines. He was tall, he was powerful. He was as graceful as a big cat, as sure of his movement, as confident … as arrogant. He didn’t have Robert’s beautiful face, but surely some would consider it a handsome face, for it was well defined and cuttingly strong, the jaw so determined, the nose hard and long, his eyes so dark and sharp, and his mouth so fully mobile and finely shaped. She imagined he might fight off the women in a place like London, for perhaps those ladies were fascinated by his dark appeal, and perhaps even his very disdain enchanted them. They were welcome to him. She truly hated him.

  “This is absurd,” she told him. “You are going to drag me to my brother’s house, and he will not have me there. Is this to further humiliate me?”

  “He will have you.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I will bring you there.”

  “But—”

  “You will see,” he told her, and that was all, for Robert had returned. She escaped into the trees herself, and then they mounted up again. It was growing dark, and thus it was growing colder.

  Then a full moon began to rise, and in time the sky was blanketed in velvet, with the ivory cast of that moon rising high above them. Jamie urged them to hurry onward, and soon, though she sat shivering, Jassy had her first sight of Somerfield Hall.

  It was magnificent, she thought. It was a palace, not a castle. It stretched across the land on the other side of a little river that glittered beneath the moon. It was built of stone, there were windows of paned glass, the front of it was built in a full arc for carriages to come and go, and there were endless steps to reach the entryway.

  “It’s beautiful!” she said quietly. It was her father’s home. It could have been her heritage.

  Her father was the man who had loved and left her mother, who had left them the legacy of poverty.

  Jamie Cameron watched her curiously. Even now, even in the darkness and the cold, his scrutiny seemed always upon her.

  “Come, let’s reach it, shall we? The night is cold.”

  “Fine,” she said. She dreaded reaching the manor. She was certain that he had forced her along to heap torture after torture upon her in some bizarre form of revenge. She was a fool. She didn’t have to be here. She should have asked Robert for a loan. She could have sworn to have paid him back, and one day she would have done so. She meant to be a survivor.

  She heard the baying of hounds, and then the circular entryway was filled with noise. A servant came to the top of the steps with a lantern and held it high, and the hounds wiggled their tails at his feet, baying again and again.

  “Who comes here?” came his cry.

  “ ’Tis Jamie Cameron, Lydon. Tell the duke and duchess that I have come.”

  “Aye, milord, right away! Welcome, sir, welcome home!”

  Jassy cast him a quick glance and wondered briefly where he had been. They walked their
horses over the bridge that spanned the brook, and when they reached the courtyard, there was a multitude of grooms waiting to take their mounts. Jamie lifted her from her horse, not waiting for a by-your-leave, and certainly not asking for one. He set her down upon the ground and eyed her critically. He smoothed back a strand of her hair, then nodded. “You will do.”

  “How very kind of you!” she whispered in return. She tried to take a step, but her legs suddenly would not hold her. She could barely feel them. She nearly fell. “Robert!” she gasped. But Robert did not come quickly enough to her aid. Jamie reached her and caught her. “What is the matter with you?”

  “My legs … the horse …”

  “I thought you could ride,” he said with impatience.

  “Well, I can. Obviously I have ridden here! But I had not ridden in years and years.… Master John did not give us Saturday mornings for jaunts in the park, you know!”

  “Hold on to me. After a few steps it will be better. You will hurt for a few days, for it cannot be helped.”

  He took her elbow and started up the steps with her while the man named Lydon queried him relentlessly about someplace called the Carlyle Hundred. Robert followed behind them and easily joined into the conversation, which made no sense to her at all. Then Jamie thought to introduce her. “Ah, Jassy Dupré, this is Lydon, the duke’s valet and his most trusted employee. Lydon, Mistress Jasmine Dupré.”

  Old Lydon’s eyes lit up like a freak fire, and he swallowed so fiercely that his Adam’s apple jiggled. “Dupré?” he queried in a small squeak.

  “Yes,” Jamie said with amusement. “Miss Dupré. Have you informed the duke and duchess that we are here?”

  “Aye, milord, I have, but I …”

  “But what, Lydon?”

  “Oh, nothing, milord. Do please come in. Welcome to Somerfield Hall, Miss—Dupré.”

  He pushed open double doors that opened upon a beautiful marble rotunda. There was a broad, sweeping staircase to the left side. To the right were double doors that Lydon hurried ahead to open, displaying a large tea room with molded ceilings, brocade drapes, upholstered chairs, and a shining wood table with an elegant silver service and crystal glasses upon it.

  The family was awaiting them there.

  At least she assumed they were the “family”—a group of richly dressed women and one man. He was in light silk breeches and a matching doublet with fine silk hose and buckled shoes. She gasped when she saw him, for she had always considered her coloring to be her mother’s, but this man was very much like her, except for being taller and very broad about the shoulders. But his eyes were the same shade of blue; his hair, worn to his collar, was every bit as blond, and though his features were broader and heavier and very masculine, there was no mistaking the fact that they were related. And two of the women behind him were golden blondes, one the same height as she, and one taller and very slim.

  The world seemed to churn and simmer. Blackness rushed upon her. She was certain that both Jamie and Robert stepped far out of the way, and that they left her alone there, like a lamb to the lions. They stared at her—the man, the blond women, and the pretty, dark-haired woman who stepped forward curiously, slipping her arm through the man’s.

  “Jamie! Robert! How wonderful to see you both! Henry, what is the matter with you? Lenore, Elizabeth?” She stepped forward, smiled broadly, and hugged Jamie Cameron with true, uninhibited affection, then kissed Robert on the cheek. “And who is this young lady?” she inquired sweetly.

  “Jane, this is Jasmine Dupré.”

  “Dupré!”

  The sound came out in an explosion of horror. Jane turned around and spoke sharply. “Lenore, where are your manners! Your papa would be shocked. Miss Dupré, please, you must come in and join us. Shall you have some wine? Or would you prefer ale?”

  She wouldn’t prefer anything. She could not talk, and she could not move, and she hated Jamie Cameron with an ever greater passion.

  Suddenly the man, Henry Somerfield, stepped forward with long strides. Beneath the foyer chandelier, he grabbed and lifted Jassy’s chin and stared deeply into her eyes, inspecting her. She found life at last. She stepped back and slapped his hand away. “How dare you!”

  He spun around on his heels and stared at Jamie. “What is the meaning of this? I demand to know.”

  “Careful, Henry,” Jamie said softly. “I do not much care for demands. If you care to step into the study, perhaps you and I shall discuss it.”

  “Why bother stepping into the study?” Jane Somerfield inquired flatly. “She knows who she is, and we all know who she is. Why not discuss it openly?”

  “She is a bastard!” one of the blond women hissed.

  “Lenore, I will not have it!” Jane said.

  “You are not my mother—”

  “I am the duchess, your brother’s wife, and lady of this house. You will obey me.”

  “Henry—”

  “You will obey Jane!” he snapped. He was still watching Jamie, and Jamie was watching him. Henry smiled slowly. “Where did you discover this little gutter wench? Is this some grand joke upon me, Jamie? What is going on?”

  “I stumbled upon her the other night. She is your sister, isn’t she, Henry. How can I ask such a thing? I had not realized until I saw your father’s ring, but now that you are together, the resemblance is uncanny. And she is no gutter wench, Henry. She is more of an abused child.”

  “I am no child—”

  “Jassy, shut up and stay out of this. I found her in extremely unfortunate circumstances—”

  “You were the unfortunate circumstance!”

  “Jassy, shut up. Your father recognized her, Henry. Your father recognized her, and your mother is gone now. There is no one left to be hurt—no one but this girl.”

  “This … bastard!” the taller blond girl hissed again.

  “Lenore!” Jamie snapped this time.

  “Lenore, please—” Robert repeated.

  “For God’s sake!” Jassy exploded. “Will you please quit speaking about me as if I were not here? Lenore, your manners are the worst I have ever seen.”

  “I’m not about to split a copper farthing of my inheritance with you, you little fortune digger!”

  “I want nothing from you!” Jassy cried.

  “I will gladly share with you!” the smaller blonde claimed suddenly. She cut through everyone and came up to Jassy and reached for her hand. She blushed. “Well, actually, I’m the youngest, and I haven’t much of an inheritance. Just a dowry. But I’m very happy that you’re here. We knew about you, of course. Poor Mama hated the very thought of you and your mother. I think, though, that my papa loved you very much, and I’m glad that you’re here.”

  The kindness was what Jassy could not bear. She had expected the insults; she had expected to be reviled, to be hated. She had not expected this gamine creature with her soft, radiant smile and shy touch.

  Tears instantly welled behind her eyes. She blinked furiously to keep from shedding them.

  “Thank you,” she could barely whisper. Then she found her strength and backed away. “I did not wish to come here.” She cast an acidic glance Jamie’s way. “Lord Cameron insisted.”

  Henry stared at Jamie, and Jamie laughed. “Well, I could hardly take her home with me!”

  “I think I’ll have some wine,” Jane said. “Let’s do please quit gawking in the entryway like common folk. Oh. I am sorry. I didn’t mean—oh, never mind. Lydon, wine for me, please. Girls? Henry, Robert? Jamie, a drink?”

  “I’ll have Scots whiskey—five fingers, please,” Henry said. He was still staring at Jassy. She had walked into the room with them. She did not sit; she longed to run, but she would not do so. She would not so entertain her brother Henry or her sister Lenore, nor so please them.

  “She can have the maid’s room off mine,” Elizabeth said.

  “She’ll have to. Lord, Jamie, I can’t bring a bastard into this house and try to pawn her off as legal issue! I can
see that she is fed and clean—”

  “Oh, she is quite clean,” Jamie said, interrupting. Jassy longed to slap him. Just once. Solidly across his bronze cheek.

  Jane spoke up softly. “Neither can you turn her out on the streets, Henry. She is your blood.”

  “And she would rather not be,” Jassy said coolly.

  Henry stared at her, then he laughed. “She certainly has some of Papa in her, hasn’t she?”

  “She has, indeed,” Jassy murmured. “Her teeth are very good, you see, and her hooves are quite sound.”

  “We are discussing her as we might a horse,” Elizabeth said.

  “Lydon, the drinks, please,” Jane reminded their servant.

  “No dowry. I cannot afford it. She may have the room off Elizabeth’s, and if she cares to help with the domestic chores, then she may stay. When there is no company, she may dine with the family.”

  They were still discussing her as if she were not among them. She wanted to scream and she wanted to cry, and most of all she wanted to escape. Robert Maxwell was still among them, listening to it all with amusement. He gave her a kindly smile, but her heart sank at the things he had to hear. She was coming to care so greatly for him. He was a still a dream that she coveted deep inside her breast.

  “Where did you find her, Jamie? In a brothel?”

  “Lenore, I do believe that I could be tempted to drag you out to the stables with a switch myself,” Jamie said coolly. Lenore flushed, and opened and closed her mouth. But she didn’t dispute him. “I found her at her mother’s funeral, having labored for many years to keep the woman alive.”

  “Oh, dear!” Jane said softly. “Well, we can keep you from that fate at the very least! Isn’t that true, Henry?”

  “I have already said that she should stay.”

  “Well,” Jassy spoke up, “I do not care to stay, thank you!” She turned, hoping to make a graceful exit. She did not manage it, for her legs gave out beneath her. She wavered and then fell. Her head struck the mantel and she cried out. She fell and fell and fell in a strange darkness, and still she did not reach the floor. She was caught in strong arms and lifted high. “Jassy!”