Dark Rider

by Iris Johansen

  She swallowed. “A little.”

  “I’ve been able to get only a little water down you in the last few hours.” She took a cup from the bedside table. “Drink.”

  It wasn’t water but sweetened coconut milk, Cassie recognized. She must be ill. From childhood Lani had always given her the same drink when she’d been sick. She had made up a story for Clara that though the drink was bitter tasting, it had special healing properties. Cassie remembered the secret laughter they had shared as she had feigned reluctance even to taste the milk.

  Her lips curved in a smile before she made a face. “What foul stuff.”

  Lani’s eyes twinkled. “But it’s so good for you.”

  She took another sip. “Am I sick?”

  “You don’t remember? You fell and hit your head at Pelée’s Breath. But don’t worry, the doctor was here just a few hours ago and said no true harm had been done.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t need him to tell me that.”

  Pelée’s Breath. What had she been doing at Pelée’s—

  She sat upright in bed. “Papa!”

  “Lie back down,” Lani said. “All is well. At least I think it is. The Englishman has not found Charles yet. Do you know where he is?”

  “Yes.” Ignoring Lani’s order, she threw the cover aside and swung her legs to the floor. Then she had to clutch at the mattress as dizziness overwhelmed her. When it cleared, she cautiously lay back down before asking, “How long have I been here?”

  “Danemount brought you back late last night. It’s a little after noon now. He found you lying in a faint at the bottom of Pelée’s Breath. You’d hit your head on a rock.”

  Cassie suddenly remembered that moment of waking on the trail. “He was angry.…”

  “Extremely,” Lani said. “He came here first, and when he couldn’t find Charles, he set out for the volcano.” Her lips tightened. “I tried to keep him here, but Clara told him that you had hurried off early that day to give your father a message from the king.”

  “Splendid.”

  Lani shrugged. “She appears to be mildly enthralled with His Grace. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. He’s an English duke, and even a British peasant is better than the king of any other country.”

  “Haven’t you told her he’s Papa’s enemy?”

  “When has she ever believed me? I’m a heathen.”

  It had been a foolish question. Cassie doubted if Clara would have listened to her either.

  “But is he really your father’s enemy?” Lani asked. “What did Charles tell you?”

  “He said Danemount wants to kill him.”

  Lani’s face paled. “Why?”

  Cassie shook her head. “He kept saying, ‘God’s will.’ ”

  “Danemount is no angel sent from heaven. Quite the contrary, I’d judge. But he can be charming when it suits him, and he’s made an effort to make himself pleasant to Clara.” She was silent a moment. “He’s a very clever man, isn’t he?”

  Cassie could not miss the significance of the question. Lani suspected things were not as they appeared on the surface, and Cassie knew she should tell her of that meeting on the shore. Yet she was reluctant to do so. She wanted only to block it out, forget it. “How should I know?”

  Lani raised her brows. “When he brought you back, he called you Kanoa. Of course, Lakoa could have called you by name, but his manner was definitely familiar. What knowledge do you have of Danemount?”

  She looked away and said haltingly, “I … met him on the beach. We talked for a few moments.” She burst out, “He was a stranger. I knew nothing about him.”

  “But now you know he’s your father’s enemy.”

  “Of course I do,” she said fiercely. “Do you think I would—”

  “Shh.” Lani put her fingers on Cassie’s lips. “You didn’t tell me of your meeting, and I had to be sure. He’s a man who’s practiced in molding women to his will. Even Clara has weakened before him. She believes everything he tells her.”

  “I can’t imagine that happening.”

  “You’ll see.” Lani sat down on the bed. “Now we must talk about your father before they know you’re awake.”

  Cassie’s gaze flew to the door. “The Englishman’s still here?”

  She nodded. “He’s been here since he brought you back. He told me to call him when you woke.” She grimaced. “There are also two of his sailors from the ship wandering about the grounds ‘for our protection.’ ”

  “They think Papa will come back.”

  “Will he?”

  Cassie shook her head. “I told him to go to Kamehameha, and I’d come to him. Can we count on the king to rid us of Danemount?”

  Lani frowned. “Kamehameha has a fondness for Charles, but he won’t help him against the Englishman. He wants British guns to fight his wars.”

  “But he’ll hide Papa until the Englishman leaves the island?”

  “Unless it proves uncomfortable for him. But how do you know Danemount will leave? I’ve rarely seen a more determined man.”

  “He’ll grow tired of looking for Papa,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. The man she had met on the shore was not the kind who gave up easily.

  “And what if Charles becomes worried about you and comes here?”

  That possibility had also been Cassie’s concern. “Can you send him a message?”

  Lani shook her head. “I doubt if it would reach him without leading Danemount to Charles. The Englishman is watching us closely.”

  “Then I’ll have to go to him.”

  “You can’t even get to your feet.”

  “Then you must watch for him until I can. I should be fine by tomorrow.”

  “I will go to him.”

  Cassie shook her head. “He’s expecting me. I have to talk to him and decide what we’re going to do.” She whispered, “He’s so afraid, Lani.”

  Lani glanced at the door. “He has a right to be afraid with that man as a foe.” She got to her feet. “I’ll get you water for bathing and a little broth. I’ll keep Danemount from coming to you until later this evening. Try to rest.”

  Rest?

  Cassie lay back against the pillows. She was not likely to rest, but she had to try. She would need all her strength for the battle ahead. From what Lani had said, Danemount had been busily weaving a cocoon to imprison them here at the cottage. A cocoon that could prove a deadly trap if her father tried to reach her.

  Cassie felt much better after the bath and meal, but not well enough to try to get out of bed until later that afternoon. It was the sound of loud male voices just outside her window that finally stirred her to the attempt.

  She slowly sat up and swung her feet to the floor. No dizziness. Good.

  She slipped on a dark-blue dressing gown over her nightgown and stood up. A slight feeling of nausea, but nothing she couldn’t deal with. She carefully made her way to the window and threw open the shutters.

  Two roughly dressed men were strolling about Lani’s garden. She decided they must be the sailors from the Josephine Lani had mentioned.

  “I see you appear to be doing much better than I was told.”

  She whirled away from the window to see Jared Danemount standing in the doorway. He looked slightly raffish, and the lack of elegance made him appear even more threatening. He was without a coat, his shirt was open at the throat, and a day’s growth shadowed his lean cheeks.

  But his eyes were just as cool as she remembered them. She instinctively drew the dressing gown closer about her. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

  “Were you contemplating leaving through that window?” He came into the room and shut the door. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

  “This is my home. Why should I leave it as if I were a thief in the night?” Her knees were beginning to feel weak, so she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I was just looking out at the intruders blundering around the grounds. They’re ruining Lani’s vegetable garden.”
/>   “I’ll give her adequate compensation.”

  “Can you compensate her for her distress and disappointment, for all the hours she spent planning and nurturing?”

  “Enough gold can soothe most disappointments.”

  She shook her head. “Perhaps in your world. Not here.”

  “Then she will have to be disappointed.” He came toward her. “And I didn’t come here to discuss vegetable gardens.”

  She gazed at him defiantly. “It’s all I’ll discuss with you.”

  “Where is your father?”

  She stared at him in silence.

  “I’d advise you to tell me. It will be easier for you.”

  “I don’t want it to be easier for me. You have no business here. Go back to England.”

  “On the contrary, I have very important business here.”

  “Murder?”

  He was silent a moment. “Retribution.”

  “I know my father. He could never have done anything that would deserve death.”

  His expression hardened. “Yes, what a kind and sacrificing father he must be. He fled like the coward he is and left you to lead me away from him. You could have died on that mountain.”

  “It wasn’t his fault I was clumsy. He didn’t want to leave me. I made him go.”

  “And you weren’t as important to him as his neck.”

  “My father does love me. I told you, I made him go.”

  “He loves you so much, he goes off into the hills and lets you run wild and half-naked where any man can assault and rape you,” he said violently.

  “There’s no shame in nakedness, and no islander would take me by force.” She stared at him scornfully. “They’re not like you English.”

  “I didn’t take you by force. I didn’t take you at all. I thought you a child. Another lie. According to what I was told, you were eight when you left Marseilles. That would make you near your twentieth year now.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You didn’t make any real attempt to dissuade me.”

  “Why should I care what a stranger believes?”

  “You were lucky that this particular stranger believed you to be an innocent child instead of the half-naked voluptuary you obviously are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  She inhaled sharply as heat burned her cheeks. “What would you have done? Ravished me? Kill the father, rape the daughter? What a splendid man you are.”

  “I don’t rape women.” His mouth tightened. “And how was I to know you were that bastard’s spawn? Respectable women don’t wander around beaches at night and masquerade as natives.”

  “I wasn’t masquerading. I was with my friends, who are just as respectable as any of your Englishwomen. You’re the intruder. You’re like all the other foreigners. You come here and lie with the women, give them a few beads, and then sail away.”

  “These women you say I victimized were not only eager but aggressive, and I didn’t come here to take advantage of them.” He paused. “You know why I came here.”

  “I won’t let you do it,” she said fiercely. “My father isn’t without friends here. Even the king is fond of him.”

  “But he’s fonder of the prospect of guns to make war on the chief of the neighboring island.”

  Cassie had hoped he would not make that discovery. Lani was right, he was very clever. “And will you give him those guns?”

  “Let us say I would do almost anything to have your father.”

  Dead. He meant he wanted Papa dead, she realized, feeling sick. “Why? You don’t know him. He’s a kind man who wants only to paint and live his life in peace.”

  Danemount’s eyes were suddenly merciless. “He’s a butcher and deserves to be butchered in turn.” He turned and moved toward the door. “Go back to bed and rid yourself of any idea of going to him. My men have orders to stop anyone from leaving.”

  “Then it’s true? We’re to be prisoners here?”

  “That’s not the precise term I’d use.” He opened the door. “Bait for the trap. We’ll see how much love your father has for you.”

  She shivered as she watched the door close behind him.

  Bait for the trap. It mustn’t happen. She had to find a way to get out of the cottage and down to Kamehameha’s village.

  • • •

  Bradford looked up as Jared strode out on the veranda. “How is she?”

  “Stubborn,” Jared said curtly as he dropped down in the chair opposite his uncle. “Other than that I’d say she’s recovering rapidly.”

  “She’s fond of her father?”

  “Yes.” Jared poured a whiskey. “God knows why. He apparently ignores her most of the time and has clearly brought her up as a savage.”

  “The life of a savage can be very pleasant.” Bradford leaned back in the chair and lifted his glass. “And it’s not uncommon for a woman to love an undeserving lout and give him her loyalty. Though not many of them would go to the lengths she did. She must be brave.” He shuddered. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go sliding along that mountainside in the dark.”

  Jared took a long drink. “It wasn’t altogether dark.”

  “Close enough for me.” Bradford tilted his head. “You’re still angry with her. Why? You would have done the same in her place.”

  “I wouldn’t have been in her place. My father was not a butcher.”

  “He was no angel either,” Bradford said quietly. “John was a brave man but he had his faults. Even though you were only a lad of thirteen, you must have realized that he was arrogant as the devil and even more of a womanizer than I was.”

  “That didn’t mean he deserved to be murdered.” He took another drink. “He was in Danjuet to save lives, and Deville betrayed him.” His hand tightened on the glass. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see them slice him to ribbons. I think even you would have learned to hate, Bradford.”

  “Perhaps.” Bradford’s eyes were sympathetic. “I wish it had been I who had seen it instead of you, lad. But you shouldn’t be angry at the daughter for the father’s sin.”

  “Shouldn’t I?” He looked down into the amber liquid in his glass. “Stay out of this, Bradford. I won’t have you interfering. She’s the key I need to get to Deville.”

  “And what happens if she won’t cooperate?”

  “Then I do whatever I have to do.”

  Bradford frowned. “I don’t like this. There’s too much anger in you.”

  He finished the brandy and poured another. “I’ve waited a long time.”

  “Not to hurt the innocent as well as the guilty.”

  “Only if the innocent help the guilty.”

  “You seem more angry with her than with him.”

  Because he would not have it any other way, dammit. Jared’s anger at Deville was cold and sharp, honed through the years, but he had to work to keep his anger at the girl fresh and hot. In the past twenty-four hours she had aroused him to anger, pity, fear, and an admiration he would not admit even to Bradford. Anger was safe. If he yielded to a softer emotion, then he would lose his key.

  But lust need not be soft. It could be hot and frantic and iron hard.

  The thought came so swiftly that he knew it had been waiting just beneath the surface. She was not the child he had thought was forbidden to him. He could reach out and take …

  Christ, what was he thinking? Who could be more forbidden than Deville’s daughter? He was her enemy, and he wouldn’t pretend to be anything else. Frustration surged back in a storm of rejection.

  “That’s your third brandy,” Bradford observed with interest. “Are you returning to your days of depravity?”

  He hadn’t realized he’d poured another brandy. He was tempted to drink the whole damn bottle. No, he was too close to his goal and would need a clear head in the next few hours. He pushed the glass aside. “No.”

  “Too bad.” Bradford sighed. “It’s a sad and mournful cross f
or a man to be forced to be depraved alone.”

  “You bear it well.” He stood up. “Come along.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the stable.”

  Bradford immediately brightened, as Jared had known he would. “Is there something worth looking at?”

  “You thought there was last night. I believe you said he had a lovely gait.”

  Bradford’s brow wrinkled in bewilderment. “I did? When did—” His eyes widened. “On the shore? The woman?”

  Jared didn’t answer as he went down the steps and set out for the stable. “Are you coming?”

  Giving a low whistle, Bradford followed him. “I’m beginning to understand.” He chuckled. “You were telling the truth when you said he’d raised her as a savage. I thought you were referring to her manners.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her anymore. We’re going to see the horse.”

  “Ah, yes, the horse,” Bradford said. “But you must admit your meeting was an interesting coincidence. Most unusual. Almost as if it were fated.”

  Jared made an obscene remark.

  “Don’t be impolite. There are a great many people in this world who believe in fate.”

  “You’re not one of them.”

  “No, but I wish I did. I wish I believed in something,” Bradford said wistfully. “It would be pleasant, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’ve had too much brandy.”

  “You’re probably right. I always become melancholy after the fifth glass. Are you ever melancholy, Jared?”

  “No.”

  “Of course you’re not. You never let yourself feel anything so mawkish. You allow yourself lust and an appreciation of beauty, a hunger for knowledge … even an affection for my humble self.” He opened the stable door. “But nothing that would strike deep, no sentimental nonsense for you.”

  “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

  “No, I taught you only to be cautious. You built the other walls yourself. Sometime when I’m sober, I must have a talk with you about the danger of— What have we here?”

  “Someone who belongs.” Lani turned away from the stallion’s stall and set the bucket of oats down on the ground. “As you do not. Isn’t it enough that you injured Kanoa? Do you also intend to steal her horse?”