Deceived. Bertrice Small

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      “Do you have enough slaves to start such a process?” the older man queried the younger. “Or would it be necessary to buy new slaves?”

      “We can train men to oversee the process, but we can use the younger women to do the bottling, Valerian,” George responded. “Bringing new slaves to the island could cause trouble.”

      “I am completely unnecessary to this conversation,” Aurora said suddenly. “George, you do not really need me now. I am going for a swim before the sun is too high.”

      “You swim?” the duke was astounded.

      “In the sea,” she told him pertly, and then, turning her horse away, she moved off back through the fields.

      “She can really swim?” Valerian asked George.

      “Like a fish,” he said. “Even better than I can, much to my embarrassment. She’s a bonny girl, Valerian, and a wonderful companion, if a brother might brag a bit. She can shoot a pistol too.”

      “Good Lord!” the duke exclaimed. “And is Calandra like her?”

      George laughed. “Nay, she is not. Cally dislikes swimming almost as much as she dislikes riding, and the sight of a pistol renders her faint. Yet she is a game girl, and has kept up with the two of us for years. Cally, however, can play the pianoforte, and she sings like an angel. She has a wonderful eye, and paints the most exquisite landscape miniatures. These are talents much more suited to being a duchess, I would assume. They are both wonderful sisters!”

      “I had a sister once,” Valerian said as they resumed their ride. “She was drowned with my parents returning from France. My mother was half French. After her father died, and she was married to my father, my French grandmother returned to her girlhood home. My parents had taken Sophia for a visit. A wicked storm blew up in the Channel even as they were in sight of England. Their ship went down, and all aboard her were lost. Sophia was eight.” He smiled softly. “I yet remember her, but were it not for her portrait in the family gallery, her face would elude me today. She was a pretty child, and, as I recall, very mischievous. She once drove all the chickens on the home farm out into the fields to free them because she said she could not bear to know they would be eventually eaten. She had a kind heart, my sister.”

      George nodded his understanding. “Cally and Aurora once freed a turtle that was to be used for soup for the same reason,” he said.

      The two men rode on, George taking his companion to the top of the gentle hills that divided the island lengthwise. He pointed out the fields, and the old Meredith plantation house that would now belong to Aurora. From their vantage point Valerian could view the entire island, and the sea in which it sat.

      “What is that island?” the duke asked. “It looks quite wild.”

      “It’s St. Vincent, and is inhabited by the Carib Indians. They do not bother us, nor we them,” George answered. “They have lost so much to the British, French, and the Spanish, even the Dutch, that they are content to live peaceably as long as they are left to themselves.”

      “And where is Barbados?”

      George turned. “You can just make it out today, for it’s a bit hazy. St. Timothy is between the two islands.”

      Valerian Hawkesworth gazed out over the island. It was like an emerald set on an aquamarine cloth. Above them the bright sun glittered in an azure sky. It was absolutely beautiful in a way he had never known, or even imagined. In a nearby tree he spotted several medium-sized birds. They were teal green with sapphire-blue tails and wing tips. Each had a cap of bright orange, and bone-colored hooked beaks. He pointed toward the small flock, asking George, “What are they?”

      “Tiomoids, a variety of parrot native to this island” was the reply. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

      “I’ve never seen anything like them. Oh, I’ve seen parrots in England, but usually they’re blue and gold, or white. I’ve never seen any like these.”

      “They don’t seem to be anywhere else but here,” George said.

      “They’re harmless. They don’t ravage the cane, so we leave them be.”

      They returned down the hills, but when they had reached the fields again, a tall, neatly garbed black man came running, calling out to George Spencer-Kimberly.

      “What is it, Isaac?”

      “You are needed in the counting house, sir. I was sent to find you. Will you come?”

      George turned to Valerian. “I must go. If you would like, tomorrow we can go over the books.”

      “Can we not do it this afternoon?” the duke asked.

      “I think Cally might find herself offended if we did,” George answered with a twinkle in his eye.

      Valerian laughed. “You are right. I must remember that I am to be a married man, and can no longer think only of myself.”

      George nodded. “Just follow the road back to the house. You won’t get lost. There is only one cutoff, and that leads to the beach. Your path goes straight. The other turns to the right.”

      “I think I can find my way,” the duke said as he moved off.

      When he came to the narrow track that led right, however, he turned his horse onto it. He wanted to see the beach, and ride along the edge of the sea for a bit. St. Timothy was such a fascinating place. He felt a longing to go exploring such as he had not felt since he was a young boy. He didn’t expect he would lose his way so completely that he couldn’t find his way back to the plantation house. The jungle deepened for a short way, and then began to thin out once more. He could hear the waves on the shore, but it was a soft sound.

      As he was about to move out onto the sand, something caught his eye in the water. It was a head. He saw Aurora’s horse tethered. Then his eyes went to her clothing which was piled neatly next to a cloth that was spread on the white beach. Was she swimming nude? He was surprised, and perhaps shocked, although he was not certain of that. He knew he should turn around and return to the main road, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he remained hidden in the shadows, watching as she swam closer to shore.

      She stood, and his question was answered. She was completely without garments, and she was utterly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen at that particular moment. The crystal-clear waters came almost to her knees. She reached about to gather her hair into her hands, and then wrung it out as she walked from the sea onto the beach. Lying upon the cloth, she spread her hair out to dry. Valerian sat silent, hardly daring to breathe. After a while Aurora turned over, again arranging her hair in a manner intended to dry it. She remained that way for another short period.

      What I am doing? the duke thought. I am like a boy spying on the dairymaids, and yet he could not move away. She had long legs, and her skin was pale gold all over. A bunch of luxuriant little curls, golden brown in color, burst forth from the junction between her legs. He wanted to plunge his fingers into that tempting tangle and explore her most secret places. He watched her arise from the beach, and his eyes fastened eagerly upon her breasts. They were small, and perfectly round in shape, their nipples pert and upstanding. Her narrow waist led to surprisingly shapely hips, perhaps a trifle more statuesque than he would have suspected beneath her skirts. She turned, then bent to retrieve her shirt. Her buttocks were so sweetly formed, he СКАЧАТЬ