Underground Captive (47 page)

    
             
"Aye, master.  Everyone except ye.  They should be near 'ome now.  I 'ad tae lead Satan away from danger."

             
"Good work, Hugh.  How will ye get back home?"

             
"I'm riding Thunder, master.  I figured if we're chased, 'e would be able

tae ge' me oot o' danger."

             
"He and Satan are fast, indeed," Jared said.  "I suggest we let them show

us what they can do, my friend.  Get Satan over here."

    
             
Nicki vehemently objected.  She wouldn't leave until she found Ricard.  Jared threw her across Satan's back like a sack of rubbish.  He was so furious he swore to her that she'd stay in that position for the entire ride.  He climbed into the saddle and turned the nervous, prancing horse in the direction of Highland Acres.

    
             
They stayed away from River Road, and other much traveled paths, keeping to the copses and thickets, even traveling through some swampland.   By the time they made it back to Highland Acres without encountering anyone, the sun was high in the sky and the horses were lathered.

    
             
Jared kept his promise to Nicki.

             
Having ridden face down across Satan's back the entire way home, Nicki was hardly able to move when Jared pulled her off the stallion.

    
             
"Ye bloody little fool!" he shouted, roughly pulling Nicki towards the house, leaving Satan to be taken care of by Keith and Hugh.  "Who's responsible for letting ye leave here?  Do ye have any idea what damage ye could have caused? Or how many people could have heard ye call out my name?  Are ye daft?  Mary Douglas!  Elizabeth!  And don't tell me ye're having imaginings that yer bloody brother is still around."  'Twas inconceivable that Nicollette would even think the bloody bastard would be concerned with the plight of slaves.

             
Nicollette didn't respond, but looked at him through eyes filled with

despair.

             
He was so angry, he ignored the look.

    
             
By the time he reached the back entrance of the house, Mary and Elizabeth were waiting in the kitchen, having heard their master's furious call.  He stepped inside.

    
             
"I told ye to keep an eye on this ragamuffin and ye let her escape.  Is it that ye can't be trusted to do my bidding anymore?  If that is true, ladies, I am sure my Uncle James can find a place for ye back at Lismore!"

    
             
"Och, nay, master, ye canna sen' us ba' wi'oot ye," Mary wailed.

    
             
"Do 'ush, Mary Douglas," Elizabeth said, fully composed.  "Master Jared, I ken we went against yer wishes but the lass wouldna be stilled.  She feared fer yer safety and said she couldna bear it if ye were 'urt.  She wanted tae be near ye if ye were 'urt and needed 'er."

    
             
Jared dropped his shoulders, drew in a breath and looked at Nicki.  A dirty, neglected waif, she stood stock still, and looked as though she could kill.  In an instant, his anger turned to remorse and shame.  "Nicki," he began.

    
             
"You bastard!" Nicki blurted and ran past him through the parlor and up the stairs.

    
             
He ran after her, but she got to her bedchamber and slammed the door before he could reach her.  He didn't try to enter.  With the exception of his face mask, he still wore his black disguise.  He walked across the hall to his chamber to change.

     *  *  *

             
Ricard clung to a piece of charred debris.  His lungs burned from the acrid

smoke that bit relentlessly into the air.

    
             
Once again, he'd tempted the length of time due him on earth.  He had narrowly escaped a fiery death that, he guessed, rivaled hell's inferno of pain and misery.  However, he could well see the wrath of a living hell descend upon his shoulders if the planters, indeed his father, should find out the exact role he had played on this treacherous dawn.

    
             
The double barrage of smoke from the fields and the boat drifted toward him on mockingly gentle winds.  The strong current clawed lecherously at him.  He coughed and sputtered and cursed the fates, considering that inescapable thing a cruel jest.  If human, his fates would have leered at him.  For all their scorn in the past, they left him now wondering.  Why had he been saved from the burning ship only to be sucked into a fetid, watery grave?

             
The day promised to be a beautiful one.  The red and gold hues of the sunrise blended splendidly on the horizon, where heaven and earth met at the surface of the ancient river's murky waters.

    
             
Ricard floated farther away from his burning ship and farther away from shore.  His will stronger than the river's at the mo
ment, he stayed afloat.  He knew that if but given the chance, the river would claim him as her own.  But he clung and drifted.  He would have swam ashore, for he knew how, however his exhausted body would quickly allow the river her victory.

    
             
Hearing the screaming of a whistle, he turned and saw a boat in the water, urgently pressing nearer to him.  He wondered how he hadn't seen it before.  His time of reckoning drew forth as the boat finally halted beside him.

  
             
Ricard knew he would have to be convincing lest his end came swiftly and he’d never get back to Crescent Wood.

32

  
             
How could he have known that she would be willing to risk her own life for the sake of his safety? And why would his safety matter to her? 
             

             
Jared pondered those questions as he rode King George in the direction of Crescent Wood.

    
             
Rags had come to him and remorsefully explained his part in helping Nicki get to Falgout's plantation to keep an eye on Jared.  Rags said he'd believed her when she told him she wouldn't try to escape.  Jared hadn't reprimanded him, but did make him promise to never do that again without Jared's knowledge or permission.

    
             
At the moment, Jared was in no rush to get to Crescent Wood.  He would have to face Charles, knowing he held his beloved daughter cap
tive.  Late last night, Angus told Jared that Charles was fit to be tied after learning that Nicollette wasn’t at
Parc Les Deux
.  Indeed, she’d never gotten there.  The plantation owners were also up in arms because Edmond Falgout's plantation had been torched.  The authorities suspected the Black Rider.

             
At least, in all the excitement no one heard Nicki scream out his or her

brother's name.   How could she be so sure that the captain behind the mask was Ricard?

    
             
Last night, he had gone to her bedchamber and tried to get her to come out and talk to him, but she had refused.  Then, this morn
ing at breakfast, she sat glowering at him, a look of naked hate on her face.  He’d let the matter drop until she was in a more receptive mood.  Jared’s heart swelled and ached at the same time.  She had come to see to his safety, oblivious of the danger to herself.

        
             
The baggy clothes she’d worn were redefined on her body after they both spilled into the river.  The clothes clung seduc
tively to her every curve.  He remembered the feel of those curves as he rolled down the embankment with her pressed close to him.  He remembered all right.  But he also remembered the anger and desperation that over
ruled and suppressed any other emotion.  He was furious that she had followed him.  At the time, he didn't know why she’d come, thinking perhaps she’d es
caped.  And, he’d been desperate to keep her safe, to get her out of there alive and unharmed.  To find out later that her concern was for him.  Why did she do it?

    
             
Having no answer to the question, Jared guided King George onto Crescent Wood’s  familiar winding path, where other carriages and buggies were parked.

    
             
Zeke was at his side as soon as he dismounted.  "Master Jared, suh, there's a big meeting going on inside there 'bout Mam'zelle Nicollette and 'bout the Falgout burning," he informed Jared, taking King George's reins.

    
             
"Sounds serious, Zeke," Jared said, going up the steps.  "Water King George and then let him graze.  I'll see ye later."

    
             
A house slave let Jared in and led him in the direction of the parlor, from which loud, angry voices emanated.  Jared stood in the door and surveyed the men in the room.  The constable, Roger Laurant, had the floor, trying to restore order.

             
"
Messieurs, messieurs
, please, let's not become irrational.  There is

always a solution to a problem...."

    
             
The house slave interrupted in a voice loud enough to be heard over the din of objections.  "Massa Jared Fleming ta see ya Massa Charles."

    
             
Charles sprang from his seat to greet Jared with a warm handshake. 
             
"Jared!  Come in!  Come in!" he boomed his usual greeting.  The composed sound of his voice belied the way he looked.  His red-rimmed eyes and stubbled face gave small testimony to the hell he was going through.  "I'm sure you know everyone here."

             
Jared nodded.  "
Messieurs
," he said with a slight dip of his head.

             
Charles smiled wearily.  "Come in and sit down, Jared.  You wouldn't

believe what has transpired since we last met."

    
             
"How are ye, Charles?  I just returned from a business trip last night, and Angus gave me yer message.  Exactly what is going on?"  He tried to keep his tone neutral, knowing that he alone was responsible for all the chaos.

             
Charles dropped into the nearest chair and briefly bowed his head into his hands.  He looked up at Jared and shook his head.  "Oh, Jared! Jared!" 

    
             
Still standing, Jared placed his hand on Charles's shoulders and gave him a firm yet gentle squeeze.  "This can't be good, Charles. Please tell me what's going on," he said in a deep-timbered voice, knowing the problem before Charles spoke.

    
             
"It's my daughter, Jared.  My Nicollette.  She never reached
Parc Les Deux
."

    
             
"What are ye saying, man?"

    
             
"
Monsieur
Fleming, we have reasons to believe she either met with foul play or is in the clutches of that crazed Black Rider," Constable Laurant volunteered.

    
             
Crazed?  Moi?  I resent that.  Especially coming from the most esteemed, most inept Constable Laurent.  The man has not solved a case since he's been on the force.

          Jared was glad that, in truth, Nicki
was
safe at Highland Acres.  He would hate for the task of finding her to be left en
tirely to Constable Laurent.  Poor Nicki would’ve been forever vanished from the earth.  “Are ye telling me that Nicollette has been abducted?" he asked, continuing with his little game.

    
             
"Yes, Jared.  She hasn't been seen or heard from since the morning she left this house almost eight months ago." Charles's voice cracked with emotion.  "She just disappeared without a trace.  The carriage, Sam, and the two horses.  She's my only daughter, Jared.  I want my little girl back."

    
             
Jared passed his hand through his hair, a terrible sense of guilt assailing him at Charles’ distress and devastation.  "We'll find her, Charles.  Wherever she is, we'll find her.  When did ye learn she did not reach her destination?"

    
             
"Last night.  You can't imagine what has occurred in the last twenty-four hours, Jared."

    
             
"
Oui
,
monsieur
," the constable said.  "
Monsieur
Falgout is facing ruin.  All his crops were burned to the ground, leaving nothing but scorched earth."