Underground Captive (41 page)

    
             
"What will they do when you leave?" Morgan asked with quiet emphasis.  "They're secure now with the salary you pay them, al
though I know you take the bulk of the profits.  But who's to say when you leave, the new owner won't work them to death for a pittance?"

    
             
"I intend to turn the company over to them.  Each worker will get shares in the company.  I have to keep it profitable.  If there is war, I won't have to worry.  Highland Ore will be kept quite busy until the war ends."

    
             
“If it does come to war it'll be over quickly.  We won't stand for our nation to be dissolved because of some radical southern bastards."

    
             
"Hopefully, ye're correct.  'Tis beautiful land, the South.  But I cannot stomach its blatant
and
subtle cruelties.  And its bloody arrogance.  Dissention grows with each passing day among these fierce and proud people.  Do ye realize how much the South and their people are like Scotland?"

    
             
"Yet so unlike your Scotland, huh, Jared?"

             
"Aye.  I cannot abide the North.  Its harsh winters...."

             
"And Scotland doesn't have harsh winters?"

    
             
"Aye, Scotland can have severe winter storms,” he agreed, returning to the subject at hand.  “The North is crowded, although the South should become more industrialized if it is to survive and compete with the North."

    
             
"I think you can't abide the North because of its cruelties also."

    
             
"Northerners talk of the South's cruelties to blacks, but they have it little better up North.  Blacks may not be owned as though they were animals, but to the Northerners they're just one notch above an animal."

    
             
"It sounds as if America has disappointed you, my friend.  The South with its arrogance and slavery; the North with its hypocrisy."

    
             
"I have friends here, Morgan.  I have--"  Jared's voice trailed off as he thought of Nicki.  "I don't feel I owe al
legiance to either the North or the South.  No one here knows about Highland Ore.  I intend to keep it that way.  I don't want to have to explain why I own a company up North I never told them about. Nor do I want to have to explain that my company is producing ammunition that may someday be used against them."

    
             
Morgan's eyes narrowed speculatively.  "Does it matter what people think?  It never has before."

    
             
"It matters what
some
people think."

    
             
"Touchy subject, I see," Morgan said, then tasted his drink.

    
             
Setting his glass down, Jared released a weary breath.  "I'm sorry."

             
"Care to talk about it?"

             
"Nay, I don't."

             
"Have you gone and fallen in love with one of those Creole beauties?"

             
Jared glowered in response to Morgan’s jest.

             
Morgan grinned.  "No!  Who is she?" 

    
             
Jared didn't answer.  Instead, he snatched his glass from the bar top and gulped down his scotch, called for the bartender and ordered another.  After his drink was brought, he said grouchily,  "I have a houseguest at Highland Acres, Morgan."

             
"Is he joining us for dinner, also?"

             
"Nay, ye idiot.  My houseguest isn't a 'he'."  Jared massaged his brow.  "'Tis

the lass I'm in love with."

             
"What is she doing at Highland Acres?"

    
             
"She's been my prisoner for six months now," Jared answered quietly.

    
             
Morgan's amused chuckle rent the air.  "I should have taught you a little better.  Keeping a woman prisoner won't endear you to her.  I thought you knew that."

    
             
Jared glared at him.  "Yer attempts at humor are failing ter
ribly, ye bloody ass.  This isn't something to joke about.  Nicki hates me."

    
             
"Why don't you release her?  That may help your quest to win her love a little."

    
             
"I can't do that.  Can't ye figure out what I'm trying to tell ye?"

    
             
"No, I can't," Morgan snapped, a tinge of annoyance creeping into his voice.  "Why the hell are you being so vague?

    
             
"Unlike ye, who understands my feelings about slavery and the things that I do to help out, Nicki doesn't.  Especially since she's the daughter of a plantation owner."

             
"She found out about the Black Rider?" Morgan whispered incredulously,

his eyes widening in understanding.

    
             
"Aye, she did.  But I don't know which is worst.  Her know
ing about that or the fact that she's the sister of Patricia's murderer."

    
             
The scotch in Morgan's mouth flew out.  "I can't believe that!"

    
             
"Why can't ye?"

             
"You're right.  Only you would entrench yourself in such an impossible state of affairs."

             
"I'm afraid my state of affairs these days is nothing but a state of aggravation.  I don't care to discuss this any further, Morgan."

    
             
"Well, you obviously told me about your houseguest for a reason."

    
             
"I wanted to warn ye in advance."

             
"Warn me about what?"

             
"Nicki.  I'm sure when she sees ye there, she's going to try something."

    
             
"I can't believe that.  What could she do?  Beg for mercy be
cause you're holding her prisoner?  Slip me a note telling me where her father stays?"

    
             
Jared laughed, and when he spoke, it was with amused reverence.  "I put nothing past Nicollette Duplantier.  Neither should ye."

             
Morgan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Nicollette Duplantier?  Personally, I

think Lady Nicollette Fleming, seventh countess of Lismore has the better ring to it."

    
             
"Go to hell, ye bastard," Jared growled, and proceeded to tell Morgan that as far as Nicki was concerned, Morgan and Jared were only business associates and Nicki was Jared's ward.

     *  *  *

             
Nicollette sat, gently moving the rocker on the gallery.  Her eyes closed, she pondered the uncertainty of her future and the complexities of the man who held her captive.  At times, his kindness overwhelmed her.  Other times, his coolness and indifference bordered on cruelty.  His changeable attitude was both maddening and frightening.

    
             
When he was absent from Highland Acres three or four days, Nicki had no idea where he'd gone, nor would anyone tell her.  But she had learned to read telling signs by observing Jared's activities more closely.  Sometimes, she saw him leave dressed as the Black Rider.  He always rode either Thunder or Satan then.  Even if she
didn't
see Jared leave, she knew he was out liberating some planter's slaves when only one of the black horses was left in the corral or stable.  Through her observations, she learned Thunder or Satan were the only horses he used on his freedom runs.  Jared always came back just before dawn, dressed in normal street clothes.  That, she surmised, was in case some early riser ran into him on the way home. 

             
Nicki knew, also, what it meant when King George was gone and her blood seethed within her that he’d gone to see his whore.  Those times, he was always dressed in his finest clothes.  Of course he’d take King George.  No other horse was as showy. 

             
This time, when he left on King George, he hadn’t returned. He’d been gone for nearly four weeks and, now, all she wanted was revenge.  She would get even with him.

    
             
Footsteps drawing near Nicki interrupted her thoughts.

    
             
"Aye, there ye ere, lassie," Mary said happily.  "Robert 'as jus' brought news that Master Jared is bringin' 'ome an 'orse customer.  Master Jared said tae fix a special meal fer suppa."

    
             
"That's nice," Nicki responded, opening her eyes for a moment and glancing at Mary, before closing them again.

    
             
"Och, lassie.  Dinna be sad.  Ye can 'elp in the kitchen if ye'd like."

    
             
"Help you in the kitchen?” A light flicked on in Nicki's brain and she sat up straight.  “Why I'd love to, Mary.  Thank you for asking me."

             
Mary Douglas and Elizabeth were delighted to have the extra help, seeing as how the master would be home within a few hours with his important guest in tow.  Master Jared would expect supper to be prepared and ready to serve when he and his guest arrived.  The two women went about happily showing Nicki the location of everything.  They even allowed her to mix the flour, butter, eggs, and sugar together for the beginnings of the cakes that were to be baked.

    
             
Nicki gladly obliged--only she substituted three times as much salt in place of the sugar.   Not noticing what Nicki had done, Elizabeth thanked her, added more flour and the other in
gredients, including minced cherries, and proceeded to beat the batter to a desired consistency.

    
             
Finished with the cake, Nicki went to where Mary Douglas bent over the stove, stirring a rich brown roux for the gravy she would serve with the roast leg of pork. "What can I do to help you, Mary?" she asked sweetly.

   
             
"Nothing, lassie.  I willa add water tae me roux an' season it wi' sage, pepper, an' salt.  Then I taste it tae see if it needs anything, before letting it simmer fer a goodly time."

    
             
"Oh," Nicki said with a laugh.  "I just bet you two taste your cooking over and over again."

    
             
"Nay, lass," Elizabeth answered, shaking her head.  "Once all the mixers are in, we only taste once.  Then nae more.  We dinna want tae spoil our appetites."

    
             
"Oh!  Oh.  H-have you tasted the cake yet?"

    
             
"Nay," Elizabeth assured her.   "I dinna like cake batter.  I already ken 'ow it willa turn oot."

    
             
Nicki breathed in a sigh of relief.  "I'm sure it will be like no other cake you've baked before.  May I pour it in the baking pan?"

    
             
"Oh sure, lass.  Why noot?" Elizabeth said, going to fetch the pan.

    
             
Nicki went to the table where the cake batter was and started folding it over.

The cherries had turned the batter a light red.  The bowl of cake batter sat

next to an open canister of red pepper.  She looked over at Elizabeth, who was searching for her spe
cial cake pan.  Mary Douglas took no notice of Nicki at all.

             
Too tempting to resist, Nicki quickly dumped half the contents of the can into

the batter.  Resting the tip of her tongue on her top lip and making numerous swift

glances in the ladies' direction, she stirred frantically to incorporate the pepper into

the rest of the ingredients before Elizabeth got there with the pan.

    
             
"Dinna fret yerself, child," Elizabeth said, taking the spoon from Nicki.

             
Licking her lips, Nicki smiled nervously.

    
             
"It's been beat long enough.  Time fer the bakin' now," Elizabeth said and poured the batter into the pan, taking care to scrape the sides of the bowl, getting every drop of batter left.  She then placed the cake on the iron grate, pushed it deep into the oven cavern and closed the heavy iron door.  "'Ow's the gravy comin' along, Mary Douglas?"