The Claiming (26 page)

Afterwards, she had nothing to do but to wait until an opportunity arose. A week passed and Jana was beginning to think she would have to risk slipping away without any sort of distraction. Then, a friend of Alain’s arrived late one afternoon for a visit. It occurred to Jana that, men being what they were, it was very likely they would be drinking Brie and swapping stories throughout half the night. Since Alain was to be occupied, she decided that the opportunity she'd been awaiting had arrived. She was determined to seize it. As soon as they'd dined that evening, she made her excuses and retired.

Alain favored her with one of those unnervingly piercing looks, but she dismissed it. There was no reason that she could see for him to be suspicious. She spent most of her time in her room now anyway.

As soon as she'd made a great show of ascending the stairs, she paused only long enough to be certain that Alain and John still lingered over their after dinner drinks and then tiptoed back down again. She hadn't covered half the distance from the foot of the stairs to the door when she heard the sounds of their imminent departure and ducked out of sight in the darkened front parlor barely in time to escape detection.

To her relief, they moved down to Alain's study, where they once again closeted themselves. A few hundred thudding heartbeats later, Jana slipped quietly out the door and made a mad dash toward the distant barn, arriving so winded that for several unnerving moments she thought she would faint. It was only by a supreme effort of will that she hadn't succumbed to unconsciousness, for her stays were already miserably uncomfortable since her waist had thickened considerably.

The Zell handler slept at the far end of the barn in one of the unoccupied stalls, so she didn't dare light a lantern. She lost valuable time in creeping stealthily through the murky darkness while she located the clothing she’d stashed. She didn't bother with tack other than securing a bridle. She would, she decided, simply have to ride bareback. Not only did she doubt both her ability to secure a saddle in silence, or lift it once she'd located it, but she didn't have the faintest idea of how to put it on the animal.

It was as she stripped, struggling with some difficulty in the darkness with ribbons and buttons and corset ties, that the unthinkable happened. She wasn't aware of the voices at first, probably because she'd managed by some means totally unknown to her to knot the ties of her corset and was by this time so frantic to remove the suffocating thing that all her concentration was focused on it and not on her surroundings.

The first inkling she had that she was soon to have company was when she noticed that the stable was no longer pitch black but was getting lighter by the second. In the next moment, she recognized Alain's voice and for several agonizing minutes she simply froze, casting around for a place to hide despite the fact that her mental functions seemed to have ceased altogether.

There was no place to hide. No place near enough at any rate that she could reach it, and there certainly wasn't enough time to put on the clothes it had taken her nearly thirty minutes to shed. She couldn't simply stand there, however, and with one swoop, she scooped up the pile of clothes at her feet and dashed for the corner of the barn, flattening herself against the wall as she closed her eyes, hoping the light would not reach so far that they would be able to detect her presence.

After what seemed at eternity of silence, she opened her eyes a crack and peered toward the doorway. Alain’s friend was just exiting, having decided discretion demanded a hasty retreat as soon as he'd recovered sufficiently to pick his jaw up off the floor. Even the back of his neck was beet red, so Jana was left in no doubt whatsoever that he'd seen her.

Alain was rather red, too, beneath his tan, but she decided that although there was a fair chance that he, too, was embarrassed at having found his unclothed wife in the barn in the middle of the night, there was an even better chance that he was furious. Perhaps it had something to do with the deadly look he was giving her, or the way his mouth was set in a thin, hard line. Somehow, the way the light from the lantern he held in a white knuckled fist fell across his face made the snapping fire in his golden eyes even more pronounced and gave him a distinctly demonic appearance, she decided. She swallowed with some difficulty and smiled weakly.

Following the line of his gaze downward, she realized she still clutched the bundle of clothing and the bridle she'd found for her Zell and thrust them behind her back guiltily. "I can explain," she finally managed to get out.

One very black brow rose in disbelief and she felt the heat of a fiery blush pounding in her cheeks. Now, think up something brilliant. She couldn't of course. The most nimble mind in the world couldn't have. And Jana, ever aware of her failings, knew she was not a quick thinker, particularly when under fire. What could she say? She decided to go for a stroll? She had felt an insect crawling and had stripped to find it before it could bite her? She had decided to go for a swim? What difference did it make if she was two miles from the creek? That story was as believable as the others.

"I thought you were talking with your friend in your study," she said feebly.

"That much is obvious, Madam," Alain said through gritted teeth. "Now, unless you would like to be paraded across the plantation in your underwear, I suggest you put your clothes on."

She dressed, too frightened by the look on his face to argue further, trembling so badly she couldn't fasten the buttons she had so hastily unbuttoned only moments before. Alain didn't offer to help and after one look at him, she decided not to ask. She was near tears when he grasped her wrist in a bruising grip and hauled her back to the house. His stride was so rapid in his fury that she could only stumble along in his wake, trying desperately to stay on her feet as she fumbled with her dragging skirts and the armful of petticoats she carried, bruising her bare feet on sticks and sharp stones till she was certain she would be crippled for life.

The scene, once they'd gained the privacy of her chamber, was the substance of nightmares. Alain didn't beat her as she'd more than half expected him to, but it was so obviously because he was afraid to touch her for fear he'd kill her that there was little comfort in it. She made no further attempts to explain herself since there was no possible excuse that came to mind.

It took almost a week to gather her courage to try again. She wasn’t certain she would’ve been able to then, except that it had become firmly fixed in her mind that she would miss her last chance of leaving if she did not get word to Val-risa.

She was not likely to get another ‘opportunity’ like the one she’d had before, she realized fairly quickly. She would simply have to try to slip away as she had evaded Marty when she left the House.

The night she decided to go, she dug out another of her stashes of men’s clothing as soon as she went to her room after the evening meal, stripped her clothing off and changed. Examining herself in the mirror, she realized that no one would think she was a man, or even a boy, if they saw her.

She shrugged it off. She did not intend to allow anyone to see her if she could help it and it was night. If anyone spotted her from a distance they would think she was a boy only because of the clothing.

After rolling up the legs of the breeches and the cuffs of the sleeves so that they no longer dangled past her feet and hands, she found a hair ribbon and tied it around her waist to keep the breeches from falling off.

Screwing up her courage, she crept into Alain’s room and took one of his old hats to complete the disguise, then raced back into her own room and closed the door firmly behind her. Moving to the nearest window then, she opened it wide, leaned out and looked down to gauge the distance. Her stomach clenched. It was much too far to simply jump. She was bound to break something if she tried, or sprain her ankle again. She scanned the walls, wondering if she could scale them. After a moment, her shoulders slumped. There was nothing—not a single thing that could be used as a foothold, and the tree she’d hoped she might use to climb down was much too far away unless she could learn to fly.

She moved to the other window, but it was no more promising than the last. She turned away, fighting a sense of defeat. After a moment, however, she set her jaw determinedly and glanced about for anything that could be used as a rope, her gaze settling speculatively on the bed. In a moment she had stripped the linens from it and was busily knotting them together. When she'd finished, she looked around for a suitable anchor, finally settling on the bed once again since it was the closest piece of heavy furniture to the window.

Moving to the bed, she tugged at it with all her strength. It didn't budge an inch. That circumstance was disappointing since she would've rather moved it a little closer to the window, but she finally decided that it was actually a good thing. At least now she knew it wouldn't come skittering across the floor to bang against the wall and alert the household the moment she suspended her weight from it. Satisfied, she secured one end of her makeshift rope to the heavy bedpost and tossed the other out the nearest window.

Having decided, just in case of need, that she would carry a change of women’s clothing with her, she collected them, tied them into a small bundle and, moving to the window, dropped it out. She stared down at the bundle for several moments, feeling her stomach go weightless. A shaft of dread sliced through her and for long moments she was absolutely certain she couldn't get up enough nerve to drop herself out that window with nothing between her and almost certain death but an old bed linen.

Firmly, she pushed it from her mind. If she could do nothing at all for her fears, then she might just as well jump without the rope. She would not be here if she had not had the courage before to face her fears and seize the opportunity to make a change. The only way to have what she wanted was to go after it.

With that thought bolstering her, she hoisted herself onto the window sill, grasped the sheets, swung herself out and hung suspended over the ground.

Her heart leapt suffocatingly to her throat, then fell to knocking against her ribs as if determined to beat its way out as she cast a measuring glance over her shoulder. Her head swam dizzily with the swaying of her rope, beads of moisture breaking out on her brow. For what seemed an agonizing eternity, the only thought in her mind was climbing right back in the window.

Unfortunately, she quickly discovered that wasn't an option. After several frantic attempts, she simply hung limply and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath while she did her best to ignore the fact that her arms felt like they were being slowly pulled from their sockets and her hands, where she clutched the sheets in a death-lock, felt as if they were on fire.

After what seemed hours instead of seconds, it occurred to her that, since she couldn't get back in the window, she'd best try to climb down before she lost her grip. Otherwise, she had no hope whatsoever of lessening the chances of breaking her neck. With that lovely thought for company, she began a slow, agonizing, nightmarish descent.

***

Alain finished writing the last of the instructions on the last report. Closing it firmly, he tossed it atop the formidable stack at his right hand, then sat back and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been a very long, very tiring day, but there was a measure of satisfaction in having completed the work on his desk. He rose and stretched all over, massaging the kinks from his neck as he moved to the decanter on the cellarette near the window.

Pouring himself a drink, he stared musingly into the dark amber liquid before he raised it to his lips. Work, he thought derisively, had provided another success of sorts. He'd been much too occupied to think of his charming and devoted wife above a two dozen times in the course of the day.

He arched his back in another all over stretch, thinking how utterly weary he was, in body and in spirit. Despite that, he had no desire to seek his bed where thoughts of making love to Jana made sleeping almost impossible. After a moment, he moved to the doors that stood open to catch the cool night air and stepped outside to stretch his legs.

He had been pacing the terrace for a time, blessedly thinking of nothing in particular when his attention was caught by a slight sound. Pausing, he glanced around. He saw nothing at first, but finally his gaze fixed upon a small, rounded bundle several yards away. He stared at it in puzzlement for several moments. Even as he moved forward to examine it, however, he was halted by another sound and he looked around once more for this newest source. The sound came again and he looked up and froze.

Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely in light of his suspicions concerning Jana, his first thought was that he'd happened upon a young man climbing into Jana's window. Before that realization with its attendant fury had quite crystallized, however, his piercing scrutiny focused with awful clarity on the slight figure that struggled high above him and he realized with a sinking sensation of dread that he hadn't caught someone climbing into Jana's room. He'd caught Jana climbing out.

For several agonizing moments as he watched her struggle and fall limp, mind numbing fear held him transfixed to the spot. A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he realized she was hanging more than twenty feet above the ground, more than far enough to kill or cause serious injuries if she fell. Even as he turned to reenter the house, however, to race up the stairs in an attempt to reach her before she fell, she began a slow descent.

He realized then that he couldn't reach her in time, feared that if he called up to her he might startle her so that she lost her grip. He could do absolutely nothing to help her he realized with a sense of frustrated helplessness ... And so he waited, unable to tear his eyes from her, holding his breath each time she seemed to falter on the point of falling.

The waiting and watching were tortuous. Each time she slipped, he felt a fresh stab of pain in his chest. It seemed he could neither move nor think clearly in that eternity between the time he'd first discovered her and the time she finally managed to lower herself to a less death defying height. As she reached a point of relative safety, he relaxed slightly, releasing a pent up breath, realizing that he was shaking with relief.