Bayous of Louisiana—December 1864
Another two weeks had passed, and Duncan was certain he had Kitten on his side. She was an excellent actress, giving Daddy Beau no reason to think she would betray him, even going so far as to take his abuse as if she deserved it. So far, Duncan had kept his mouth shut, but after seeing Kitten limp around the cabin one morning, he couldn’t stand it any longer.
Daddy Beau lumbered into the cabin from outside, sweat already staining his shirt. When Duncan noticed him toss the limping Kitten a glance, he said, “Does it make you feel like a big man?”
“What’s that, boy?”
“Do you feel like a big man when you hit a little girl?”
Daddy Beau reached the cot and raised one white caterpillar eyebrow. “You better watch your mouth, son. How I treat my woman is my business.”
“Is she really your woman, old man? She’s young enough to be your granddaughter.”
Daddy Beau chuckled. “Jealous?”
Duncan looked away. It killed him to be so damned helpless. “I don’t have to beat on my women to keep them interested,” he murmured.
Daddy Beau took a step closer to the cot. “No, I bet you don’t, boy. Do the ladies swoon over your brown pecker?” He leaned in closer still and Duncan smelled the man’s filth. He said in a raspy voice, “I heard tell that Injuns got teenie weenies, boy.”
Duncan knew he was being pushed. “Haven’t you heard, old man? It’s not the size that counts; it’s what you do with it.”
Daddy Beau actually threw back his head and laughed. “Boy, I’m gonna miss you when yer gone.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Duncan answered.
The old man studied his prisoner, his eyes slits in his head. “No, I don’t imagine it is.”
Most evenings, when Daddy Beau was sleeping off his liquor on the rickety front porch, Kitten helped Duncan strengthen his weaker ankle. After a while, he knew he could at least put weight on it when he had to. And, because Kitten had quit putting a sleeping potion in his food, Duncan had to feign sleep so the big man wouldn’t get suspicious. But one morning, something changed.
Daddy Beau strutted to the bed, his thumbs in his empty belt loops, his belly hanging over his pants, and leered down at him. “Time’s near ready, boy.” He whipped the covers off Duncan’s body and studied his shackled legs. “Swelling’s down. Good sign.” Duncan reached for the blanket and covered himself. “We got a meetin’ place, boy.”
Duncan tried to steady his beating heart. “When is my doomsday?”
The fat man laughed, big and hearty. “Now, you expect me to tell you that? I thought it’d be a nice surprise for ya. I don’t want you worrying over when your last day on earth is. Although you already know they’ll prob’ly blast a hole through your heart.”
Or hang him, like they nearly hanged Fletcher. “All right, let’s just get it over with.” He pretended to struggle as he sat, appearing weaker than he was.
“Easy, boy, not today.” Daddy Beau belched loudly and left Duncan in a very tentative state of relief.
That night Kitten moved quietly around the cabin cleaning up after the fat man, her usual task. When she finished, she sat on the side of the cot so she faced the door and could watch for any movement. She leaned in close. “It’s going to be the day after tomorrow,” she whispered. “We don’t have much time.”
Duncan couldn’t rise to any level of excitement. “How in the hell are we going to do this?”
She scooted closer. “I’ve been putting some things aside that we’ll need once we’re in the bayous.” She cast a quick glance at the door, then continued, “Dried meat, water, and alligator oil. If we don’t grease up, we’ll be eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
“Do you have any sort of weapon?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Daddy Beau has a rifle, but I noticed the other day that it wasn’t where he usually keeps it. Might be that he doesn’t trust me anymore.” She winced and stretched her back. “I do have this.” She bent down and pulled up her shift, revealing a homemade sheath and a knife attached by a leather thong around her thigh. “I’ll have to leave it with you; there’s no place I can hide it.” She unfastened it and shoved it between the pillow and the dirty muslin case that covered it. Her eyes were huge. “All right, this is the plan.”
She proceeded to tell him the details of their escape—how she would drug Daddy Beau’s hooch, and, “I’ll even have to give some to Titan. You’ve probably noticed that he barks at shadows.”
Duncan asked her how they would maneuver once they left the cabin.
“I have a friend,” she said, her voice low. “He’s an Atakapa, full blood, not half like you. He has a dugout we can use to maneuver the rivers, and he’ll take us as far as he can. After that we’ll be on our own.” She glanced at the doorway again. “We’ll have to leave as soon as Daddy Beau falls asleep and get as far away as we can in the dark. My friend was born in the bayous and knows the streams we need to take to get to Bayou St. John.”
Duncan began to believe it was really going to happen. He felt a flutter of excitement. He took Kitten’s hand and squeezed it. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” he said, tossing a quick look at the door, “provided we get out of here alive.”
“You must take me with you, all the way, Daniel. You must.” There was panic in her eyes as she nervously pressed her fingers over a recent bruise. The fat man was sneaky; he never hit her in front of Duncan. “You know that when Daddy Beau discovers us gone, he’ll be madder and meaner than a cottonmouth. If he catches up to us, we’re both dead. If I go back, he’ll beat me so bad I’ll want to die.”
Duncan realized Kitten was risking her life to save his. If they got out of here, he vowed to make sure she was safe, and as far away from Daddy Beau as humanly possible.
• • •
Isobel woke slowly and stretched. Her first notion of reality was that she wasn’t wearing her nightgown. She blushed and bit her lip to hide a smile.
“Good morning.”
She gasped and pulled the covers up to her neck. He stood at the foot of the bed holding a tray covered with a cloth. He wore his sark. She groped under the covers for her nightgown and couldn’t find it.
He put the tray down on a table beside the bed and reached for something, bringing up her wayward bedclothes. “Looking for this?”
She felt shy and reached out to take it from him. “Aye, please.”
“To make things even, I can take off my own.”
“I don’t want to encourage you,” she managed. “I’m not sure it’s legal to eat breakfast without clothes on.”
He picked up the tray and placed it in the middle of the bed. “Oh, I’m sure there’s a law about it. Someone somewhere has always got a law against anything, especially if it feels good.”
She cleared her throat and wiggled her fingers at him. “My nightgown, please?”
He frowned, appearing to think about it. “Well, ya see, lassie, me bride sewed me this here nightshirt and—”
Isobel started to giggle and put her hand over her mouth.
“What’s so funny, lassie?” He feigned indignation.
She shook her head and tried to stop laughing. “Your burr is the worst I’ve ever heard.”
“In that case…” In an instant, the sark was on the floor, and he stood before her naked and very proud.
She couldn’t look away. A strip of hair grew from his navel down into a thatch of the blackest hair she’d ever imagined. And springing from that was what had given her so much pleasure earlier. She looked up into his eyes. “I’ve never seen one before.” She could swear the thing moved as she spoke.
“You keep looking at it and breakfast will have to wait,” he threatened, his eyes dark with desire.
Even under his weightless threat, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“Izzy.” His voice was low and menacing.
It seemed to get even bigger before her eyes. She glanced up briefly. “Why is it growing?”
“Obviously because you’re looking at it like you want to, I don’t know, maybe eat it?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze away. “Oh, be serious.”
“You can touch it if you want to, only I can’t prevent it from getting even bigger if you do.”
Her whole body shook with need. She had no idea a person could feel such hunger for someone and something. She could barely breathe as she watched him remove the breakfast tray and then join her on the bed, facing her.
“Sit on it, Izzy.”
Without a second thought, she moved to straddle him, closing her eyes and holding her breath as she eased herself down onto his shaft. She put her legs around his waist and felt him go even deeper. She put her arms around his neck and he held her shoulders to steady her. As she moved against him, she felt that tingling part of her come even more alive and she continued to move, pressing and rubbing herself against him as he thrust into her. Once again, the beautiful wildfire spread through her, sending her into spasms of joy. She pressed her lips against his shoulder to keep from crying out. She felt him come as well, and when her breathing finally steadied a bit, her ears were ringing.
She stayed where she was, pulled tightly against him, feeling languid and lazy. She lifted her head and looked at him. He was smiling at her.
She struggled to get off him and punched him on the arm. “Am I so very humorous this morning?”
He continued to smile. “It’s not humor that makes me smile at you, Izzy. Look at my shoulder.”
She glanced at it and gasped, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “I did that?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s my badge of honor.”
She quickly tucked herself under the covers. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who seemed to enjoy a good roll in the hay as much as you do.”
She snuggled against the pillow, turning away from him. “My goodness, aren’t you the sweet talker?”
He was quiet behind her. “What did you want me to say, Isobel?”
What had she wanted him to say? That she was the best he’d ever had? That he had fallen in love with her? She didn’t know. All she knew for sure at this moment was that she didn’t want to break the mood. “Are you going to spoon me or not?”
He chuckled and accommodated her. “I guess breakfast will just have to wait.”
“My, yes. After all that spent energy, I need a nap.”
He hugged her close. “That’s my girl.”
Yes, Isobel thought, be his girl. It was better than nothing.