Falsely Accused, page 12
He wore streaks around his eyes and down either cheek. Markings ran along his forehead and down to the tip of his nose. His chest was disfigured also. If it had not been for his startling green eyes, he could easily have passed for a native.
He bent over to enter the humpy. Close up he appeared even more untamed, but the savage primitiveness somehow only added to his stature. He knelt down beside Shane and took some muddy substance out of a furry pouch.
“This will act as a poultice and get rid of any infection.”
“It looks like mud.”
“It’s a special mixture of herbs, strong medicine, so Moondi tells me.”
Maryanne watched as Jake removed the bandages. Bile clogged her throat when she saw Shane’s raw gaping stomach.
“You plug the wound, leave it for a few days, then remove it,” Jake explained.
Maryanne turned away as he applied the mud. “Oh, Jake.” Ugly puckering lines crisscrossing his back, bore testament to the floggings. She went to touch him, and he knocked her hand away.
“Just one more thing I owe them.” Such violence throbbed in his voice she dared not ask what he meant.
He worked quickly and efficiently, re-bandaging the wound. She suddenly remembered Libby saying he had some medical training.
The fish, which they ate off pieces of bark, tasted delicious and Maryanne tucked in ravenously. She watched in surprise as Moondi ground a left-over portion between two flat stones and took it into Shane.
“Don’t just sit there,” Jake said suddenly. “If you’ve finished, you can gather firewood. Moondi has enough work to do finding food with two extra mouths to feed.”
“All right, what do I get?”
“Come on, I’ll show you. I don’t want you wandering too far away and getting lost.”
“You couldn’t care less about me, Jake.”
“You’re wrong, I do care. Damn it to hell.”
He pulled her into a clump of trees and savaged her lips with his mouth. She felt the tormenting graze of his teeth, and the rough heaviness of his thighs rasping against hers. She placed her lips against the frantically beating pulse at his throat, and her arms automatically went up around his neck.
“Maryanne, my lovely,” he groaned on a shuddering breath.
“I love you, Jake. I want to stay with you.”
“Shane?”
“We agreed to go our separate ways.”
“A man is entitled to more than one woman, Moondi will accept that.”
Maryanne’s heart turned to stone.
“You could leave her.”
“No.”
“It isn’t a real marriage.”
“To Moondi and her people it is.”
“I want all of you, Jake. I’ll come to you on any terms, but I won’t share you. You’ll have to choose between us.”
“There’s nothing more to be said, plenty of wood lying around here.”
“She’s only a savage.”
He pushed her away and she stumbled and fell to the ground. He dived on top of her. “English bitch,” he snarled.
Holding her shoulders down with one hand, he stripped her clothes away with the other. Momentarily she fought him, arching and twisting in an effort to get away.
There was no seduction, no soft kisses or whispered endearments, just a savage need to possess and master. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her body rose up to meet the fierce thrust of his powerful manhood. They finally became one in a savage coupling that left her spent when it was finally through.
“I had to have you. I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.” He buried his mouth in the damp valley between her breasts.
“You know I could never refuse you, Jake,” she whispered, wrapped in a contented blanket of drowsy euphoria.
“Maryanne, my lovely one.” He ran a finger along her jaw line. “Don’t make me choose between you and Moondi.”
“I can’t share you.”
“If you let me come to you, I swear I won’t lay with Moondi again, but I can’t send her away.”
“Do you love her?”
“No.”
“Do you love me?”
He hesitated for a moment. “I’ve fought it, but yes, from the first time I saw you struggling up the gangway on that vile little ship. Loving a woman was an unfamiliar emotion for me, that’s why it hurt so badly when you thought me capable of sodomy.”
“Is she carrying your baby?”
“No child will ever result from our coupling, that’s why I accepted the tribal elder’s offer of Moondi. She’s barren.”
“Are you sure?”
“She’s had three husbands, and became fruitful to none of them. The tribe wanted to banish her. No warrior wanted a wife who couldn’t give him sons. The elders knew I needed a woman, but to keep the purity of their race her people kill all babies of mixed blood. I couldn’t risk a liaison with any of the other women, so our marriage turned out to be a satisfactory solution all round.” He sighed loudly. “We should be getting back, we’ve been away too long. I’ll help you gather some wood, something a warrior should never do if there are women about.”
When they each had an armful they started back.
“For a day or so, you better stay with Shane. I’ll put up another shelter. We’re about due for some heavy rain.”
“You’re going to share with her,” Maryanne accused.
“I’ll be sleeping by the fire.”
The black girl waited for them. She said nothing, just kept on grinding seeds between two pieces of stone, but she looked reproachfully at Jake every now and again. She had obviously guessed what took place between them.
Their evening meal consisted of a damper and kangaroo roasted over the coals. Jake went off to check on some traps, leaving the two women together. Moondi kept on with her work grinding seeds into flour, but now they were alone didn’t even bother to hide her hostility.
“Do you speak English?” Maryanne asked and received a poisonous stare for her pains. They were mortal enemies now, because two women who wanted the same man couldn’t be anything else.
Some of the flour was mixed with water until it formed a smooth paste, and Maryanne watched in surprise as the aboriginal took it into Shane and carefully fed it to him with her fingers. He still looked grey and sick, but the shiny wetness had disappeared from his face. Maryanne sat there holding his hand, wondering whether he would ever be able to recover from such horrific wounds.
The weeks passed. Shane slowly grew stronger, but it became increasingly obvious that he would probably never be really well again.
A silent war waged between Maryanne and Moondi. Although there were plenty of kangaroos and fish, there appeared to be little else, except for roasted roots or sometimes an eel or two. This valley isn’t big enough to support us all, Maryanne thought glumly, sitting under a giant white barked tree. Why did she feel tired and dizzy all the time? Malnutrition perhaps?
Only at night did she forget her woes. In Jake’s arms, with his lips on hers, and their heated, sweat slicked bodies fused together by mutual passion, did she feel truly alive.
Jake didn’t mind living here because he was as savage as the land itself, and his long hunting trips took him away from the hostile, sullen Moondi, who kept silently watching, as if waiting for something to happen. The woman was probably plotting to kill her so she could get Jake back.
Maryanne suddenly decided not to search for any more berries. Grabbing the grass dilly bag she threw it as hard as she could. It landed on a bush and hung there.
“Poison,” she suddenly screamed the word out. The black girl was trying to kill her. How many times had the food tasted bitter of late; after breakfast, she always felt ill. Oh, God. Tears pooled in her eyes. She’d have to tell Jake, but would he believe her? He didn’t love Moondi, probably didn’t really love her either. Flogging and cruelty had driven any tenderness out of him. He was so full of hatred now he had little room in his heart for anything else.
What hold did that savage have over him? He’s spent every night with me. It was only a tribal marriage. Jake said aboriginal men had the right to get rid of their wives if they displeased them, so why didn’t he send her away?
Did he enjoy having two women fighting over him? No, that wasn’t it either, but what? Libby would have demanded he choose between them, only Maryanne was too cowardly, too frightened of losing him. It was pitiful being so beholden to him, so desperate she would endure anything in the hopes of gaining his love.
A lusty devil like Jake always needed a woman at his side. In the past, he took what he wanted from them, used their bodies, casting them aside whenever it suited him, without a qualm. Would he do the same to her? She lay awake shedding bitter tears about this, while Jake, once his passion was slaked, rolled over and went to sleep.
Her head ached from worrying about the future; her eyes burned with unshed tears because she couldn’t afford the luxury of a good cry. Finally, she made it back to camp, only to be met by a furious Jake.
“Where the hell have you been?” he snarled. “I sent Moondi out searching for you.”
“I went for a walk.”
“The berries?”
“I threw the bag away, I’m tired of eating them. Your black woman can collect them if she wants.”
“If you don’t gather food, you don’t eat.”
“I’m sick, Jake.” Her lips trembled. “Your black woman is poisoning me.”
“Watch how you speak about Moondi.” His eyes smoldered.
“You’re always defending her against me.”
“Don’t be so childish. I’m sick of your whining.” He swung away and stalked off.
Maryanne dashed into the bush and vomited her heart out. Jake could be so harsh sometimes. Was it too much to ask for a little sympathy and understanding when she felt unwell? She wrapped her arms tightly about herself, rocking backwards and forwards, moaning in anguish because he didn’t love her.
The days were hot, but the nights turned chilly, and she started shivering after a time. She could see the dancing orange flames of their cooking fire, and hear Moondi gabbling away to Jake.
Tonight, they were going to roast a huge ostrich like bird called an emu, and this would be served with roasted roots. The thought revolted her.
He didn’t bother calling her over for food, not that she felt like eating anyway, but it showed how little he cared. Bitter tears welled up in her eyes, and she used her bunched up fists to wipe the wetness away.
Darkness fell, and the dense blackness of the bush was terrifying. In the distance, wild dogs howled to each other. She put a hand over either ear to blot out the threatening eeriness.
A sudden rustling in the bush really spooked her, but she couldn’t run away because her legs felt numb. I hate this savage place, she thought. Perhaps she’d died and gone to hell as punishment, but she couldn’t remember being killed.
“Maryanne, where the hell are you? I won’t put up with any more tantrums. Answer me now or I’ll leave you out there all night.”
“I’m over here, but my legs won’t move,” she blubbered.
He dropped a savage oath almost in her ear. “Damnation, what are you trying to do to me?” He swung her up in his arms.
“Oh, Jake.” She put her arms around his neck nuzzling her damp cheeks into the warm skin of his throat. “I really am sick.”
“For God’s sake, you talk yourself into these things,” he growled, striding through the blackness.
He shouldered aside the kangaroo pelt covering the doorway of their lean-to, and lowered her to the ground.
“Are you still angry with me?” She pushed her hands up under his jacket and laid her palms on the warm, hard flesh of his stomach.
He took her mouth with a hungry fierceness, and as his tongue probed and explored her mouth, heated excitement spread across her loins. Within seconds they were both naked, and Jake’s skin rasped urgently against hers.
Maryanne forgot all the loneliness and fear of before, and the angry words exchanged between the two of them, as his passion drove everything out of her mind. She moaned softly as his hands and mouth manipulated her to his will. Desire ran rampant as he suckled her breasts into throbbing peaks, at the same time, his fingers blazed a fiery trail between her thighs, gently coaxing apart the silken folds that would give him access to her inner sanctum.
The weight of his body was an exquisite agony as she locked her legs around his sweat soaked back. He started thrusting, deeper and deeper until he reached the very core of her convulsing womanhood. They moved together in a heated frenzy, oblivious to anything but their raging need. Like a volcano waiting to erupt, he held back for one last moment, before letting his seed explode inside her, and Maryanne flopped back exhausted.
They lay entwined without speaking for a time. Jake eased himself away a little and running the flat of his hand across her stomach, said. “Tell me about your illness.”
“It’s awful, I feel faint, sort of giddy. The smell of that poisonous food Moondi cooks makes me want to vomit.”
“Worse in the morning?”
“Yes, but how did you know? You’ve never bothered to notice.”
“An educated guess.” He laughed softly. “When did you have your last monthly flow?”
“What!” Her whole body burned with embarrassment. “Jake, please, it’s not decent discussing such things.”
“When?” He persisted.
“I can’t remember, before I went to Libby’s.”
“You’ve been here nearly eight weeks.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Fear formed a lump in her throat.
“Nothing.” He kissed her mouth, “except, my pretty, you’re with child.”
“No, no,” she screamed, “I don’t want to be.”
His body went rigid. “It’s too late now,” he grated. “Do anything to damage my son, and so help me, I’ll rip your heart out.”
“Jake, Jake.” She clung to him so he wouldn’t move away. “I do want your baby, but not out here. No midwife, no…”
“Sh.” He placed a finger against her lips. “Birthing is a natural process, Moondi can help you.”
“No, send her away. I’m frightened that black devil will put a curse on us.”
“She’ll do exactly as I tell her.”
“She hates me; I can read it in her eyes.”
“She’ll see no harm comes to you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I say so. Come, you need plenty of rest, if you’re to give me a strong, healthy son.”
“It might be a girl.” She put her lips to his bare shoulder and tasted his salty skin.
“For generations, the Darringtons have mainly produced male offspring.”
“Were you named after your father?”
“Yes, damn him to hell.”
“You sound like you don’t care for him much.”
“I hate his guts. I hate the air he draws into his lungs, the ground he walks on even, and I’ll see him in hell before I die. Darrington castle. Remember, Maryanne,” he gritted, “Darrington castle. It’s the ancestral home of the Darringtons. If something ever happens to me, take our son there to claim his birthright. Understand?”
“Yes, if it’s so important; but, what proof would I have?”
“When our son is born, I’ll show you all the proof you’ll ever need. Go to sleep now,” he said, cupping a breast in either hand and rubbing the nipples with the flat of his thumb, “before I change my mind and decide I need you again.”
You don’t ever make love to me, she thought wistfully. Your passion is always driven by need. Not that he ever let her just lie there and think of the empire, as many English women did. He demanded she kiss and caress him into hard arousal, and she did so with wicked abandonment.
Silas always slammed the sins of the flesh. A woman who did anything but lie meekly while her husband claimed his marital right was evil and depraved to his way of thinking. I hope you and that horrible witch you married are dead, she thought fiercely.
Jake was adamant their child would be a boy, but if it turned out to be a girl, she would be called Georgina after Maryanne’s mother, and Fiona would be her second name. Maryanne wanted this baby, but not out here, like some savage in the wilderness.
“Jake.”
“What?”
“I could stay with Libby.”
“No.”
“But, Jake.”
“When your time comes to be delivered, maybe, until then I want you here with me. I need to wake up each morning with you lying next to me. I want to feel your body quivering under mine as I release my seed. To feel your waist thicken as our son grows inside you, to feel his first movements.” His voice rasped, full of raw emotion. “I must; this can make up for what happened in the past. What about it, eh?” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “The son of convicts taking his seat in the House of Lords.”
“What are you saying?”
“Won’t that stick in the craw of the English aristocracy?”
“Jake, Jake.” She frantically pounded at his chest. “What are you saying?”
A roaring noise nearly exploded her eardrums. Fortunately, she was lying down, as his hatred bouncing off her body would have flattened her had she been standing up.
“I was born in North Carolina. My mother married a rich young Englishman. The third son of an Earl has little chance of inheriting the titles or estates, so he went to America to run the family plantations out there.
Just before my tenth birthday there was a boating accident, which wiped his whole family out. My father,” Jake’s voice roughened, “returned to England to claim his title. He left my mother and me behind, promising to send for us later, but never did.”
“I’m sorry.”
He ignored her sympathy. “For months, I listened to my mother crying herself to sleep. Finally, we had to leave the plantation because my father sold it and we were destitute. We moved into cheap lodgings and she did other people’s laundry, while I scrounged whatever I could. She was an orphan, but wanted me to be a gentleman, foolishly believing my father would return for us.
