Underground Captive (14 page)

    
             
In a moment, Jared overcame his surprise at her actions.  Scooping Nicki up in his arms and running out of the Red Dog Saloon, he jumped in the saddle.  He raised Nicollette up with one hand as he dug his boots into the palomino's flanks.

10

    
             
By the time the door swung open, expelling the scum of the river from the Red Dog Saloon, brandishing knives and clubs, King George was a block away.

    
             
"Nicki, how could ye so foolishly place yerself back in such imminent danger?" Jared growled, vaguely aware of his less-than-sympathetic tone.  "I risked life and limb by coming after ye!  The time ye took to throw that bloody bucket of water could have been the death of both of us!  I should turn ye over my knee and spank yer bloody bottom for yer foolhardiness."

    
             
"I'm s-sorry, J-Jared," she sobbed, trembling with anger and fright.  "My brother is here in the city.  I wanted to find him and bring him home.  He must know that Pa Pa has changed.  He's a little more mellow than when Ricard left."  The tears her stubborn pride and impotent anger had held back flowed freely.

    
             
Jared's anger dissolved into remorse.  Perhaps he’d been too hard on her a few moments ago.  He slowed King George to a trot.  "No more tears, Nicki.  Ye're safe.  Ye're on yer way home to yer father."

    
             
"
Merci
, Jared," Nicollette whispered, hoarse with emotion.  She lifted her face as he looked down at her.  "You came for me," she said, her mouth inches from his.

    
             
"I've killed for ye.  I don't ever want ye hurt."

    
             
Nicki snaked her arms around his neck and placed her mouth on his, searing his senses with the touch of her lips.  Something akin to thunder exploded in his brain and he tightened his arms around her, his tongue plundering the inside of her sweet mouth.  Her body, soft and pliant, boldly responded to his fiery kiss.

    
             
"Jared,
mon monsieur
," she murmured, hoping that her heart, hammering from his touch, wasn't audible.

    
             
A sudden, strong gust of wind blew her raven tresses wildly about.  King George whinnied and pranced about, almost throwing them off his back.

    
             
"Easy.  Easy, boy," Jared soothed.  Nicki's small hand combed back his hair that the wind had blown into his face and over his eyes.  "Settle down, Georgie." The palomino stabilized his movements and went back to a somewhat easy gait.  "Sit still, my bairn," he said to Nicollette, fighting for control of his senses--for control of his body.  His loins, swelled with desire from her kiss and from the nearness of her, ached inside the confinements of his tight breeches.  Her small, rounded buttocks pressed against his groin, making his desire evident to her.

   
             
Nicki shifted her weight, relieving some of the pressure against him.  He drew in a breath, more agitated than relieved--agitated with himself.  How could he think what he was thinking about doing to her after what she'd just been through?

    
             
Nicollette gazed up at him with her heavenly eyes.  They shone with trust.  And perhaps love?

   
             
Love?  She'd only been in his company once for a long period of time.  The other times were brief meetings.  How could she love him?  But she was young.  Why else would she wantonly kiss him with the entire world watching if she didn't love him?

Nay, 'twas gratitude, he justified plausibly, his maleness throbbing.

    
             
It angered him that Nicki loved Ricard enough to risk life and virtue for him.  But, of course, she would risk everything.  He was her brother and from all accounts, despite the six-year difference in their ages, Ricard and Nicki were raised very close.  Where would her love for her dear brother be when she discovered his horrible crimes?

    
             
She would never believe anything of the kind about Ricard.  Undoubtedly, she would try to avenge her brother's death.  Then, he would have to...to--he couldn't even finish the thought.  He could never hurt her much less take her life.  She was so very vulnerable at the moment.  All he could think of was protecting her.

   
             
Yet, who’d kept Patricia safe?  Suddenly, he hated Nicollette Duplantier.  This willful, beautiful, little spitfire was turning his normal life topsy-turvy.  Nothing was black and white anymore.  There was a gray area that was making him weak.

    
             
He didn't like it.  He didn't like it one bloody bit.

    
             
He had planned to use any method, and anyone, to find Ricard, kill him, in cold blood if necessary, then go back to Scotland and find a Scottish lass to marry and bear strong, healthy sons for him.

    
             
But then Nicki breezed into his life with her incredible beauty, sharp wit, keen intelligence, and fierce independence.  Here was a woman that would do supreme justice to Lismore.  A woman that his courageous and indomitable ancestors would have been proud to know and love.

    
             
Dammit, nay!  He wouldn't have known Nicki existed if her murdering brother hadn't taken Patricia away from him.  Nay, the lines had been drawn long before he met Nicollette.

And Nicollette was the bloody enemy.

Wouldn't Patricia want him happy?  Could Nicollette make him happy?

    
             
Jared secured his cloak tightly around Nicollette and tucked her long hair inside.  She was wrapped so securely that only a small portion of her face was exposed.

    
             
Nicollette snuggled close, burying her face against his white shirtfront, smelling the fresh cut hay and new leather on him.  Drinking in his scent, she

blushed at her daring.  She had kissed him! 
She
had kissed
him
!  What must he think of her?  How could she describe the feeling of his mouth on hers? 

             
Unashamed that he’d seen her exposed breasts in that hellhole, she rubbed her face against Jared's shirt, the whipcord hardness of his chest warm against her skin.

   
             
It felt so right.

Her lips were bruised from the vicious, sickening handling she’d received at

the hands of the flatboatmen.  She didn't know what force pushed her to press her swollen lips against Jared's mouth, but she was glad she had.  Maybe, she wanted Jared to kiss away the disgust and humiliation she had suffered.  And his kiss was wonderful.  She still felt the taste of his lips on hers.  The feeling of want.  The liquidy fire, from her secret woman’s place, wet her thighs.

    
             
She closed her eyes and thought briefly of the slap she’d given him at Crescent Wood, but dismissed it. 
He came for me
, was her final thought before she drifted off into a safe and trusting sleep.

    
             
Jared guided King George across Canal Street into the
Vieux Carr`e
where people stared and pointed.  The large palomino with his silvery mane always caused quite a commotion.

"Who is that?" someone asked.

A gentleman waved to Jared.  “That's Fleming, the carriage maker."

    
             
"Bloody busybodies," Jared muttered as people continued to recognize him and stare.  The curiosity seekers now seemed more interested in the covered bundle he held protectively against his chest.    
             

Jared urged King George along, dipping his head occasionally at a fair madam or maiden who dared venture out on such a blustery, cold day.

    
             
None too soon, he was at the Duplantier house on Rue Dauphine, reining King George in front of the courtyard gate.  Jared gently pushed Nicollette away from him and slid off his horse, while holding her with one hand.  She opened her eyes, steadied herself and looked at him.  He gave the bell a couple of hard clangs then reached for her.  She allowed herself to be carried inside when Rags opened the heavy door.

    
             
"Take care of my horse, Rags.  He's been ridden long and hard.  He'll allow ye to throw a blanket over him.  But let him stay in the courtyard," Jared ordered, rushing up the wooden stairwell with Nicollette.

   
             
Charles heard the noise and opened the entrance door.  Jared brushed past him with Nicollette in his arms.  He sat her down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which held a bright, blazing fire.

"
Mon dieu
! Nicollette!  Jared, explain yourself, sir!"

    
             
"Oh, don't be a fool, Charles.  Can't you see he is helping her?" Blanche Sonnier asked, rushing to Nicki's side.

    
             
"Ye
are
a fool, Charles.  All ye Creoles are.  Ye're all ready to fight a duel with or without provocation.  Well, don't tempt me,
monsieur
, I've killed once today.  Obliging ye would be easy!"

Charles looked at him in astonishment.  "Y-y-you've killed someone?

Did you fight another duel?"

    
             
"
Non
, Pa Pa," Nicollette answered, her voice shaking.  "Jared came for

me at the Red Dog Saloon.  I went there to look for Ricard.  The river swine tried to make sport of me.  If that man had hit me, Pa Pa, he surely would have killed me.  Jared shot him to save my life.  He wasn't a gentleman whom you could call upon in a proper manner."  Once again, the tears flowed freely.

   
             
"Now, now,
ma petit cherie
," Blanche comforted.  Clearly, Nicki's beauty wasn't accidental.  Blanche had Charles's intense blue eyes and Nicki's petite stature, milky skin, and jet-black hair.   "No more tears.  Come, let us attend to your bruises.  A warm bath will settle you down."

    
             
Nicollette wrapped Jared's cloak around her as she stood.  It swallowed her but covered not only her exposed breasts but also her outrageous clothing from her father.  She walked up to Jared and touched his cheek.  “
Merci
, Jared.   I am glad you came for me."

    
             
As she caressed his cheek, Jared felt fire in each of her fingertips.  Looking down at her, she appeared so tiny and vulnerable.  Her lips were swollen and bruises covered her cheeks.  Jared was sure her breasts were also bruised.  Even with her swollen lips and bruises; with her wild, uncombed hair, she was appealing.  She was gloriously, beautifully appealing.  He bowed his head and kissed her hand.  "I would do it again, Nicollette." 

             
After Nicki and Blanche went down the hall and disappeared through another door, Charles stood and bowed his head.  Taking a deep breath, he walked over to a rosewood cabinet and took out a bottle of Napoleon brandy.  Silently, he poured two snifters and brought one over to Jared.

    
             
Jared sat on the sofa, his face knotted in a frown.  Looking up at Charles, he reached for the glass.  He swirled the tawny liquid around a moment then took a generous swallow.  It went down smooth and easy; a comforting warmth settled in his middle.  He had just began to feel the chill from the long ride from Tchoupitoulas Road with only his shirt as protection from the wind.

    
             
Charles sagged next to Jared.  "I
am
a fool.  I regret a lot of things, but there's nothing I would regret more than if I were to lose your friendship.  Please accept my deepest apology."

    
             
Jared nodded, then smiled, relaxing the tension on his brow.

    
             
Charles sipped his brandy.  "I'll report this to the authorities.  Considering the farce of a police force that we have, I am certain that your justice is all the justice that will be done.  I'm in your debt.  I shall never forget what you did for my daughter.  And if it's in the stars for my son to return to the family, I know he will.  In the meantime, I implore you, accept my heartfelt thanks and undying gratitude."  He extended his hand.

    
             
Jared accepted it.  "I promise ye I will always keep her safe, Charles.  Although, I must admit, I may be asking for a lot of trouble considering yer daughter's talent for finding danger."