Underground Captive (39 page)

             
She went to bed looking forward to the morning light.

*  *  *

             
Nicki sat up with a start.  Through the cracks in the curtains she saw that the sun was fully up.  She had overslept.  Hurriedly, rising from the bed, she went to the table where the wash basin was and poured water into it.  She splashed the cool water on her face, then patted it dry with a linen square.  She dressed quickly, then made her way down to the kitchen.

    
             
"G'mornin' tae ye, lassie," Mary Douglas said cheerily, look
ing at her with a broad smile.  "'Ow was yer rest?"

    
             
"Oh, Mary!  I overslept.  Jared must be furious," Nicki wailed in a rush.

    
             
"Never fear, lassie.   'Twas Master Jared who said tae let ye sleep.  'E'll be seein' ye at the stables when ye get there.  Would ye care fer a bite tae eat b'fore ye go?"

    
             
"
Non
,
merci
, Mary," Nicki said, unable to hide her rush of pleasure.   "I'll eat later.  I am looking forward to riding this morning."

    
             
Full of excitement and anticipation, she knew it wasn’t all due to her expectations of mounting a horse again.  Part of her excitement was because she would see Jared.

    
             
She was reluctantly beginning to think that Americans weren't so bad after all.  Well, maybe not all Americans.  But Jared Fleming?  Maybe, he had some good in him.  And, for that, she decided she didn't want to personally hang him.  She would be content to just watch him swing from the end of a stout rope!

  
             
Still, she decided to refrain from referring to Americans with her derogatory terminology of 'Mericains.  After all,
most
of them were humans too.

    
             
Nicki made her way towards the stables, located a half mile away from the house.  Several magnificent horses, in
cluding Thunder and King George, occupied the corral near the stables.  She stopped at the fence and looked them over, admiring their beauty.  Especially King George.

    
             
"I'd like to gentle you down, Georgie, so we could ride like the wind," she said.  King George neighed and she laughed, then continued on.  She found Jared just outside the stable entrance talking to three men, one of whom she recognized as Keith. 

             
When Jared caught sight of her walking toward them, he stopped talking and smiled at her.  "Good morning, Nicki," he said, appraising her from head to toe.  She was wearing her green riding habit.  And her hair, minus the cap, fell in inky waves down her back.  He swallowed hard.  "Ye look lovely."

    
             
"
Merci
, Jared," she responded, smiling and looking him over. 

             
His stark white cotton shirt, opened midway down his chest, exposed blond curls.  Her gaze traveled to his strong neck, corded with sinewy muscles.  She would never be able to watch the life being choked from his body as the cruel ropes bruised and burned that perfectly beautiful neck.  It didn't matter what passed between them.  Or that he was her captor and the infamous Black Rider.

             
His life mattered too much to her to see it end.

    
             
"Did ye sleep well, Nicki?" Jared asked, determined to keep his desire in check.

             
Nicki flushed at the sound of his strong, deep voice.  "
Oui
, yes.  I...I'm sorry

if I kept you waiting, Jared."  A slight tremor in her voice betrayed her staunch

composure.

    
             
"No problem.  I needed to do some things around here that kept me busy.  What do ye say?"  Jared smiled and his eyes danced.  "Are ye ready for me to return the courtesy?" 

    
             
"Return the courtesy?" Nicki repeated, lowering her eyes.  She’d avoid his eyes if at all possible, having no desire to dissolve at his feet in a lovesick heap.

    
             
"Aye.  Give ye a tour of Highland Acres," Jared said with a grin, the warmth of his devastating smile echoing in his voice.

    
             
She met his gaze.  His smile dazzled her and desire that snaked through her.   "
Oui
.  I-I mean yes.  I'm ready."

    
             
She had determined to try to speak English as much as pos
sible since Jared was American, although he did seem to under
stand French very well.  He even spoke it rather fluently.  Yet, he conversed mostly in English.  He did have the damnedest accent though.  One she hadn't remembered hearing before.  It was close to the Irish but still she knew it wasn't Irish. 
What kind of American is he
?

    
             
They walked out into the sunlight as two stablehands each led a saddled horse out of the stables.  Nicki was taken aback some
what when she noticed one of the horses was the black steed that had run over and killed Sam.  She looked up at Jared. Any reproach that she had died when she saw the pained expression on his face.  She knew the reason.

    
             
"'Twas an accident, Nicki," he muttered, confirming her thoughts.  "A terrible, terrible accident.  I would give anything to undo it." His voice was strained and the muscles in his jaw worked convulsively.

    
             
Nicki forced a smile.  "I believe you would," she said softly.  Her smile turned to dismay when she saw the broken-down, sway-backed nag standing next to the stallion, all saddled up.  Her eyes narrowed and, despite her best efforts, her temper rose.  "What do you expect me to do with that...that animal?"

    
             
"Ride him," Jared answered, amused.  "Nicki, bear with me.  Most of my horses are semi-wild.  They're not used to having riders on their backs.  Satan will only let me and three other men straddle him.  Even Thunder and King George are only accus
tomed to three other people besides me on their backs.  And they only ride them if necessary.”  He grinned mischievously, his eyes smoldering.  "Satan will allow ye to ride if I'm in the saddle with ye.  If ye'd like, we can ride double." 

    
             
"No," Nicki said stubbornly.  "I'll ride this one.  What's its name?"

    
             
"Urak.  He's a Murakosi Draught Horse.  And he really isn't as broken down as he looks.  That dip in his back is a natural trait in that particular breed," Jared explained, still grinning.

             
"Oh, so he's a work horse," Nicki said as Jared helped her into the saddle.

"I thought it was Mary's horse."

             
Jared's brow knitted in confusion.  "Mary's horse?"

             
"Well, I...I thought."  Nicki rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed.

"Dare I say it?"

    
             
Jared laughed.  "Mary is rather large, Nicki, but even a per
son Mary's size constantly riding couldn't put a sway that pronounced in a horse's back."  He looked down at her from his higher perch in the saddle of Satan.  "Ready?"

*  *  *

    
             
Highland Acres had an abundant amount of oak, acacia, weeping willows, and magnolia trees, even though the land wasn’t nearly as vast as Crescent Wood.  There were the fields that she had seen from the gallery of the house and a good portion of fenced in grazing lands, where horses numbering about sixty grazed.  Nicki saw other people she hadn't seen before all bent at various tasks, but there wasn’t a Black person among them.  She pondered the relevance of that in silence.

    
             
When the sun began to reach mid-point in the sky, Jared suggested they rest beneath the shade of a huge magnolia, whose buds were beginning to blos
som into big, fragrant flowers.  Although it was early March, and still relatively cool, the sun's rays still had a slight effect on her delicate skin.

    
             
Reining in Urak, Nicki drew in a big breath of air.  "I love the scent of the magnolia blossom."

    
             
Jared climbed down off Satan's back and reached up.  Catching Nicki around her waist, he helped her down from Urak.  She stood facing him with barely breathing space between them.  "Ye rode sidesaddle today."

    
             
"
Oui
...er...yes.  Urak is...is...I mean...I thought Urak looked wider than...than my horses," she stammered, his near
ness confounding her.

    
             
"Actually he's not.  'Tis probably the look of his physique that made ye think so."  Jared’s gaze melded with hers and, still holding onto the reins, he tightened his arms around her waist.  "What is it about riding with ye that makes me stop and want to do this?" He lowered his head.

    
             
His lips touched hers and she shivered, trembling in his embrace.

    
             
Jared’s tongue gently coaxed her lips apart.  Her tongue met his, generating waves of passionate fire in his blood.  When he kissed her deeply and hungrily, she momentarily succumbed to the mastery of his mouth, drinking in his taste, his scent, his nearness.  His sensuously drugging kiss peaked her curiosity to a near breaking point.  Wanting Jared to make love to her, she wondered how long she could continue to deny her feelings for him.

             
Unable to allow him to continue, she pushed him away, not sure she could

stand on her own.  Heart pounding wildly in her chest, she summoned all her

strength to ease herself out of his embrace.  "You kidnapped me, Jared, and have

made me your prisoner," she said breathlessly, walking around Urak and leaning

against the trunk of the tree to regain her balance. 
Lord, the man's kisses almost

make me forget why I am here
.  "I know nothing about you," she managed

admirably.   "I can't allow you to charm your way into my good graces."

    
             
She knew very well that there was more than charm involved.  Jared's kisses told her that.  She sensed that.  But she needed to know what Jared's mission was.  She needed to know why he just didn't go where he was going and set her free.  Surely doing something as futile as trying to free the slaves wasn't the only thing that drove the man.  He was too in
telligent to think that he would accomplish that goal alone.  Or even with Captain Blossom's help.

             
Jared cleared his throat and dropped the horses' reins.  Satan and Urak

walked toward the open meadow to graze.

    
             
He joined Nicki by the tree, staring at her briefly, then looking out in the distance, folding his arms across his chest.

             
"Ye never asked me," he said at last.

             
"Asked you what?"

    
             
"Asked me about myself, Nicki.  I know ye dislike me."   Jared leaned casually against the tree trunk, his arms remaining folded. "Ye decided that the first day we met.  And yer reasons for disliking me are still vague to me."

    
             
Nicki looked up into his eyes.  Was that remorse she saw there?  Her heart fluttered a little, but she was surprised to know that she was able to withstand the onslaught of emotions she felt.  "I-I don't like Americans, Jared.  I con
sider most of them uncouth, bragging thieves.  There were a few American girls at the boarding school I attended.  None of them were very honorable.  I'm a firm believer of the offspring being an extension of the parent."

    
             
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, eh Nicki?" Jared interrupted, raising a brow.

    
             
"Yes, Jared.  I have yet to meet an American who wasn't devious."

    
             
"And Creoles aren't devious?" Jared asked pointedly, dropping his hands and standing straight once again.

             
"I expect that coming from an American."