In one way only could he truly demonstrate his regard for her; even though he was not sure he loved her, he could ask her to marry him. In all conscience, however, that was the one thing he would not do. A pauper and fugitive who would in all probability die with a royal infantryman's bullet in his heart could hardly ask a girl to become his wife, particularly one who already had given him so much.
During the past ten days since he had felt like himself again he had been vexed by a new and complicating problem. His desire for a woman had become increasingly strong, and he was far from blind to Janine's beauty. Quite the contrary, whenever he saw her he was doubly excited by the imorthodoxy of her dress. The Jeremy Stone who had pretended to be Terence Bartlett would have had no hesitation in seducing Janine, but the man he had become could not.
And there was still Esther Mary. Try as he might, he could not forget her. The very memory of her was disturbing, unsettling. But even as he deliberately conjured up pictures of the minister's unorthodox niece, he cursed himself. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman, insisted to himself as well as to others that he truly was a gentleman. If that representation of himself was genuine, sincere, he would—in the light of all that had happened—^think of Janine, and of no one but Janine.
It was his duty to think first of Janine. It was his obligation to consider her welfare above all else. And it was bewildering when he realized that the objectivity of his thinking was clouded and confused by his persistent desire for her.
So for a variety of reasons he avoided her. And Janine, not understanding his seeming indifference, had been hurt and had therefore withdrawn into a shell of her own. Arnold told him that she busied herself in helping to teach at the school of the Maroon children while prayerfully awaiting word through the commander's secret channels that the Bonnie Maid had once again dropped anchor in the Port Royal roads.
Now the Maroon men paused in their labors and threw themselves on the ground to rest. Their inactivity annoyed Jeremy, and he continued down the path toward the village. He saw someone standing in the thin shade of a banana palm, and after thinking so much about Janine, it was something of a shock to see her, to know that she was watching him, smiling at him.
"I've been waiting for you, Jeremy," she called in greeting, and her gold loop earrings bobbed up and down.
"How clever of you to know I'd be at this particular spot at this particular time." He was not being deliberately rude, but her frankness and her eagerness to see him were disturbing.
"I've come to know your habits." Janine's smile deepened, but her green eyes were troubled. "Jeremy, I want to talk to you."
"All right." He stopped beside her, acutely conscious of her nearness, of her semi-nudity and her beauty.
"Not here, if you don't mind. It's too—public.'*
She giggled at her own description, for no one was in sight, and as the buildings of the village were hidden by trees, it appeared as though they were on a lonely trail in the middle of the jungle. But her laugh was infectious, and Jeremy grinned at her, the spell of tension suddenly broken. They walked in silence, and the young gunsmith realized that she was leading him to her hut. A faint tingle of alarm shot through him as Janine parted the fringe that covered the doorframe, but the feeling dissipated when he stepped inside.
He had not been in the tiny cottage in several weeks, and it was amazing to see all that Janine had done to it. A thick woven-grass rug covered the bare earth of the floor, scraps of bright cloth serving as curtains fluttered over the window, and beside the hamoc stood a table, on the top of which sat a variety of combs and other gewgaws essential to the feminine toilet. How Janine had managed to accumulate them in this remote and barbaric outpost of civilization was a mystery.
The girl wasted no time and faced him squarely, her hands on her hips. "You've been avoiding me lately, Jeremy. Why?"
The bluntness of her assault staggered him. "Why, I—that is, I——"
"Have I said or done something to offend you?" She tossed her red curls and looked at him steadily.
"No!" Jeremy protested, his embarrassment growing. "Quite the contrary, Janine, I assure you."
"Be honest with me. What do you think of me?" She seemed completely determined to settle the issue.
"I have a very considerable regard for you." It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to retain his equilibrium. The tiny room seemed to be filled with Janine's presence, and his resolves to keep away from her were vanishing under the intoxicating pressure of her nearness.
"Now you're evading!" She laughed, but was not amused.
Jeremy was slipping rapidly, and he knew it. "There is no girl who has ever meant more to me," he said, speaking more loudly than he realized.
Janine sighed, and her eyes were shining. "I guess my feelings for you are no secret," she murmured.
Jeremy controlled an impulse to sweep her into his arms. A reckless excitement was growing in him, and Janine was being far from helpful. "I don't think this is the time to discuss such things," he said desperately.
She put her hands on his shoulders, and their eyes met and held. "There has never been a better time," she whispered. "I love you, Jeremy."
He tried to tell himself that she didn't know what she was saying, but his last resistance was crumbling. "Janine dearest
"We belong together, Jeremy. And we both know it." Inflamed, he could control himself no longer and drew her to him roughly, violently, and kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded instantly and their embrace tightened. Jeremy felt her breasts pressing against his chest, her firm but plaint body yielding to the tautness of his own flesh.
Suddenly he wrenched his head free and stared at her. And with a great soaring of emotion he realized that she was completely his, unafraid and unashamed. Again he bent to kiss her, gently and tenderly at first, then with mounting passion. They became unconscious of anything but each other, unaware of everything but their mutual desire.
An hour later, perhaps two, they discovered they were hungry, and Janine cut open two rich custard apples, which they ate sitting cross-legged on the mat rug. Never had Janine looked so radiant, so lovely, and as Jeremy watched her he felt an overpowering sense of guilt. While it was true that she had thrust herself at him, he had given in to his passion, and there was no security he could offer to Janine in return. He hoped she would not try to look too far into the future, but the wish was short-lived.
Smiling contentedly, she pushed back a lock of coppery hair. "When you receive your pardon from the governor general," she said dreamily, '*we can be remarried in Port Royal."
Jeremy gaped at her, unable to say a word.
Janine laughed and patted his arm. "Oh, you'll be pardoned, Jeremy, of that I'm sure. I don't know how or when it will happen. We may have to wait until Sir Arthur Bartlett leaves and is replaced by a new governor general. But the time will come—someday. Meantime we can go through a Maroon wedding ceremony, and that will be good enough—^until we can have a proper one performed."
He took a deep breath. "You certainly can't expect me to sit up here in these hill for years, Janine," he said, speaking more harshly than he intended. "Sir Arthur might stay in Jamaica for another ten years. And after ten months in this Maroon country, much less ten years, I'll have rotted away. Can you see me spending my life here, living out my days in a community of fugitives and savages?"