Underground Captive (73 page)

night.  You said I killed Patricia and your friend.  If the man I saw that night was your friend, he betrayed your trust.  I saw him stab her."

    
             
Sickening, undeniable realization washed over him.   Jared drew in a painful breath, much like a sob.

    
             
Ricard was telling the truth!  The knife
was
Robert's!  Robert Dennison.  R.D.  Jared's father, Duncan, had presented it to Robert nearly twenty years before in Scotland, when Robert was sixteen and Jared was thirteen.  That day, Jared had been bested by Robert in an archery contest.  The pearl-handled silver dagger was his reward.  As further compensation, Duncan had the hilt engraved with Robert's initials.

    
             
Why hadn't Jared remembered?  Why didn't he remember that contest until now?  Patricia, he concluded.  He'd been too ag
grieved over her death.  And so blinded by his trust in Robert, the knife's owner became lost to him.

             
R.D.  Ricard Duplantier.

             
R.D.  Robert Dennison.

             
The perfidious bastard!

    
             
Jared had grieved, suffered, and hated needlessly for nearly five years.  How could he have been so blind?  So unforgiving?  So un
yielding?  He had caused the Duplantiers untold misery.  Charles was nearly apoplectic with worry.  Ricard had become isolated from his family.  And Nicki.  Nicki--he'd put his Nicki through unforgivable hell.  'Twas a wonder she still loved him.  Or would she still love him after she found out the truth? 

    
             
For a long while, Jared looked out across the field, a dull ache in his chest.  Running his hand through his hair, he finally turned his gaze to Ricard.  "I've wronged ye greatly, Ricard.  I know that ye speak the truth.  But the evidence against ye was overwhelming.  I stayed in this country with one purpose in mind.  Avenging Patricia's murder.  I stayed here to wait for ye to come back home.  But while I waited I met Nicki.  And if anything good came out of my hatred for ye, 'tis my love for her and her love for me."  This wasn't easy for Jared.  He wasn't a man given to apologies.  But clearly Ricard deserved one.  Why, if Ricard hadn't had the courage to confront Jared and make him listen, Jared probably would have killed him.

    
             
"Aye, Ricard, I did wrong ye," he continued.  "And for that ye have my permission to come to the ball."  Jared's eyes sparkled and his lips curved in a warm, friendly smile.

    
             
Ricard grinned.  "Thank you, Jared.  I accept your invitation and your apology," he said.  "Such as it is."

    
             
Jared studied him a long moment.  "How did ye know where the cabin was located?  'Twas supposedly a secret."

             
"The slaves whom you relied on knew."

             
"The same slaves ye, yerself, would later come to rely on?"

             
Ricard nodded.

    
             
"So, ye were the other Pied Piper leading the slaves to freedom.  Tell me, Ricard, how did ye feel stealing from yer own father?"

    
             
Looking at him levelly, Ricard let the laughter escape from somewhere deep inside his diaphragm.  "Wonderful," he said.  "Getting the slaves to safety was challenging and exhilarating.  Have you got a week to hear about it?"

    
             
Jared nodded.  They sat down and leaned against the great oak while their magnificent stallions grazed.

             
Ricard offered Jared a cigar.  "Tell me something, Lord Fleming?" he mocked,

after they lit their cigars.

             
"What, Peasant Duplantier?" Jared teased.

             
"Nicki told me your father died seven years ago.  Why didn't you return

to Scotland?"

    
             
"I did, Ricard, but I came back because Patricia wasn't ready to leave her homeland.  I'd taken her away from her family in Boston, but she wanted to stay in America a little while longer."

    
             
Ricard didn't answer right away.  "I guess you've regretted your decision many times."

    
             
"Aye, I have.  I've regretted my decision because of the hor
rible way she died.  However, I realize Patricia never would have adapted to the Highlands." Jared took a drag on the cigar.  "But Nicki--"

             
"The little minx," Ricard interrupted with a chuckle.   "I assure you, Nicki

will have no trouble adapting."

    
             
"Ye're right.  Nicollette Solange can adjust to any environment."

    
             
"I'll bet when you kidnapped her, your life would have been easier had
you
been
her
captive."

   
             
Jared threw back his head and laughed.  "Aye, Captain, I couldn't agree more."  Growing serious once more, he eyed him curiously.  "How did ye become the infamous Captain Blossom?"

    
             
"It was simple.  I rented the boat, Southern Beauty, for over a year, until I amassed the funds to buy it outright.  Whenever I felt in the mood to give the planters hell, I would make a contact, letting the slaves know when my next run would be.  I slipped in and out of port every six weeks or so."

    
             
Ricard fell silent, his heart filling with pain.  He felt an uncontrollable urge to talk about his lost love.  "In '57, Yvonne wanted to come back home to see her mother and her sisters.  She carried my child.  I tried to talk her out of it.  I wanted her to wait until after the babe was born.  But she insisted."  He stopped, his voice breaking, his heart con
stricting with torment.

    
             
"During the voyage home she went into labor," he continued when he'd regained his composure.  "Yvonne died minutes after she delivered our stillborn son.  For a long time, I held my father responsible for her death.  If he'd accepted her, had he known, I wouldn't have had to take her away."

    
             
Jared bowed his head.  "With this country's miscegenation laws, even if Charles
had
known and accepted it, he couldn't have done much to help ye live openly as man and wife as ye wanted to.  Besides, if she'd remained here she may have died anyway, Ricard," he said sympathetically.

    
             
"I know, Jared.  You can't escape your destiny.  Whatever it may be."

             
"Nay, ye can't.  Have ye forgiven yer father?"

             
Ricard smiled briefly.  "Yes," he said simply.

    
             
"With Yvonne's death ye decided to honor her memory by help
ing her people, thus ye became Captain Blossom?" Jared speculated.  "Or would ye have done it even if she had lived?"

             
"Yes, I would have done it had she been alive."

    
             
"Do ye know Philippe Dureau swore ye were a black?  Actually, he thought Captain Blossom and the Black Rider were one and the same," Jared commented, wanting to alleviate the pensive mood that had settled between them.  He knew about grief and he sym
pathized with Ricard.

    
             
Ricard laughed warmly, his black cloud bursting as quickly as it had been formed.  "The pompous fool.  Has he been convinced otherwise?"

             
"Aye.  Nicki had a thing or two to tell the bloody ass."

             
"I'll bet she did."

    
             
They fell silent for a moment, each puffing on their cigars, lost in their thoughts.

    
             
"When my damned boat exploded it didn't sit too well with me.  Besides nearly drowning, I've had the damnedest ringing in my ear since the explosion!" Ricard's eyes twinkled with merriment and their laughter reached the heavens.

    
             
That's how Nicollette, Blanche, Charles, and Antoinette found them.  The four of them came helter skelter to the dueling oaks, in Charles's barouche, in anticipation of...what else but a deadly duel?

             
They stared in mute wonder at the two obscenely handsome young men

laughing with each other as though they were life long friends.

   
             
That still didn't stop Nicki's fear from bubbling to the sur
face.  "Pa Pa, please help me down," she whispered, her voice trembling with fright.

    
             
Jared and Ricard were so engrossed in their conversation, they took no notice of the carriage or its occupants until Nicki spoke.

             
"J-Jared?" she said softly.

   
             
Jared looked up and stood.  His surprise was such that he stared at her as though seeing her for the first time.  "Nicki!" he bellowed.  "What the bloody deuce are ye doing here?"  He rushed to gather her in the security of his arms when Nicollette began to tremble.  "Sweet bairn, are ye ill?  Please tell me, what's wrong?"  His voice, shaking with emotion, betrayed his calm demeanor.

             
"Oh...Oh...Ja-Jared," she sobbed.  "I...I thought you and Ri-Ricard

w-were g-going to k-kill each other."  She buried her face against the rough material of his topcoat.

    
             
"Nay, now darling.  'Tis settled.  I find yer brother to be quite an agreeable fellow.  Everything's all right now, my Nicki," Jared soothed, tightening his arms around her.

    
             
Nicollette stopped trembling and stiffened suddenly, the im
pact of her husband's words seeping into her brain.  She yanked herself out of his embrace.

             
"Nicki?" Jared asked, confused.

    
             
She glared at her husband then her brother.  "Everything is
not
all right!" she fumed.  "How dare you make me worry so?"  She jabbed Jared as hard as she could in the stomach with her fist.

    
             
Jared gazed at her in total astonishment.  She should have been glad she didn't find him hurt and bloodied.  In
stead, she was trying her best to bruise him.

    
             
Nicollette walked angrily over to Ricard.  "You're no better than he is!" she declared and promptly kicked him, with all her strength, in the shin.

             
"Bastards!" she hissed, again glaring from one to the other.

    
             
"Nicollette Solange!" Charles admonished.  "You're married now.  Please try to act like it!  And stop using that foul language!"

    
             
"Of course, Pa Pa," Nicki said haughtily, ignoring her brother's cries of agony.  "Please take me back to the house.  I am ready to go now."

    
             
She brushed past the three men, her eyes dark with anger, her spine rigid.

    
             
Charles glanced at his daughter's stiff back then back at Jared and Ricard.  He sighed, shook his head, and threw his hands up in supplication.  Would Nicki forever be so quick tempered, he wondered, walking back to his carriage, breathing a sigh of relief over the outcome of the duel.  Whatever happened, his family could finally be one again.

    
             
Jared and Ricard watched as the barouche pulled away, carry
ing its four occupants with it.

    
             
"You may be an earl, my new found brother-in-law, but it's easy to see who rules the castle," Ricard muttered, limping to Omri.  "Trust me when I say this, Jared.  If you want to regain control of your house, you must put your foot down now! Other
wise, you may have to fight a duel with Nicki to recapture it.  She doesn't use conventional weapons.  The little hellcat kicks and scratches.

    
             
"Believe me, I know my sister.  She can be a formidable little hellion when she wants to be.  Lucky for us, she's en
ceinte.  You have my sympathy, your lordship.  Especially after she delivers."  Ricard grinned and, giving Jared a mocking look, climb
ed into the saddle.