Startled by his intensity, the girl drew back. "Surely you don't think it would be necessary to stay here that long?"
"I don't know how long I'd have to hide here, and I don't plan to find out."
Janine jumped to her feet and drew herself up proudly. "What you're trying to say is that you don't intend to marry me," she declared quietly.
He wanted to explain that he was in no position to marry her, that he was a hunted man without prospects of any kind. "Listen to me " he began.
"I'd prefer not to listen to any excuses or lies." Janine's eyes blazed, and her fists were clenched. "Be good enough to leave this house at once."
Jeremy was on his feet, angry at her unreasonable attitude. "Will you listen to me?" he demanded.
"No!" She stamped her foot, and he thought she would strike him.
"Very well, then!" He turned on his heel and walked out into the blinding early afternoon sunlight.
Paying no attention to where he was going, he started in the direction of Arnold Rifle-Shoot's house. He would have vastly preferred not to part with Janine on such terms, but the choice was not his. It would have been better, too, if he had not been intimate with her, but the damage was done now. The net result of the day's emotional jumble was that Janine had been hurt. But, he reasoned, it was she who was being stubborn, and if she was suffering now, it was her own fault.
Several people spoke to him as he strode rapidly across the village, but he did not see them, and when they noticed the grim set of his jaw, the hard look in his eyes, they left him to himself. At last he arrived at Arnold's house and, impatiently brushing aside the long strands of dried grass that substituted for a door, he stalked in. Someone was sitting across the room, curled up on a crude chair near the window opening.
Blinking to accustom his eyes to the comparative darkness, he saw Esther Mary Pennywell smiling at him. She was, as usual, dressed in shirt and trousers, with a knife stuck into her high boucanier belt. She jumped to her feet, and they shook hands warmly.
"You're looking far better than the last time I saw you," she said, studying him with interest.
"Thanks to you. I've been hoping you'd come up here so I could tell you how grateful I am to you." She continued to stand close to him.
"I'll admit your problem was more complex than some of the others." She grinned, running her fingers through her short blue-black hair. "In fact, it was one of our better accomplishments. Spiriting you and a lady in waiting to a duchess out of Port Royal and all the way up here is something we'll rate among our most impressive victories. Half of Port Royal thinks you're dead, of course."
"Glad to hear it." They sat down on a long, low bench covered with cushions made of fowl underfeathers. "What about the other half?"
"I've been told that your friend the Duchess doesn't believe you or little Sister Janine are anything but very much alive. But no one is searching for you any more, so you're safe as long as you stay away from the town."
"And what are you doing here?"
"I came to make a report to the commander. I'm leaving for Port Royal tomorrow morning." Esther Mary was suddenly tight-lipped.
"Oh?" He felt a quick surge of interest and hope. "You're rather friendly with the commander, I gather?"
The minister's niece grinned and deliberately avoided the question. "I promised I'd bring a message to you. From Dirk. He says, 'Tell Jeremy I'm sick t' death o' earnin' a livin' by the sweat o' my brow while he's a-settin' up yonder in the hills a-takin' life easy like the hifalutin gendeman he was pretendin' t' be.' " Her imitation of Dirk's accent was remarkably good, and she glowed as she spoke of him.
"I've thought of Dirk—often." It was true, he conceded to himself as he studied her, sensitive to her nearness, that his old friend had been much on his mind. But Esther Mary had been even more in his consciousness, and she was now only a few feet from him. It was true that his recent thoughts had been on Janine and not on her. But he was still angry—no, disgruntled and upset—over his argument with Janine, over her blind and stubborn refusal to understand his position.
And Esther Mary, more provocative than ever, was right here. It was an opportunity that no man, feeling as he did at that moment, could resist. He debated about the best approach to her, then swiftly decided on a bold course of action. "I've wondered often about you, too," he added. "If I had a shilling for every time you and I have had an—imaginary conversation, I'd be a wealthy man."
"Really?"
Watching her intently, he felt sure that the light appearing in her eyes was genuine. No woman could simulate so deep an interest in a man. It was true, it must be true that she was as drawn to him as he was to her. There were moments when talk was superfluous, and this was one of them.
He moved to her quickly, confidently, and drew her to him. Esther Mary, surprised, offered no resistance, and for an instant she seemed to respond to his ardent, demanding kiss. Then, suddenly, her hands drew back from his shoulders and she struck her palms so sharply against his chest that he fell back a pace, surprised.
Breathing hard, they stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Jeremy, trying to regain his equilibrium, could not decide whether she was angry with him or whether she was merely playing the role of the chaste lady. Of one thing he was sure: there was neither animosity nor contempt in her eyes. He would have moved toward her again, but she held up her hand, and he stopped short.
"I beg your indulgence," he said stiffly. "I had no notion that you find me repulsive."
"I don't, I assure you." The dark-haired girl's breathing was even and regular again.
Her composure annoyed him intensely. "You find my love-making crude, then."
"On the contrary, Brother Jeremy. I find it expert—and pleasant."
"Then "
"However, I'm not thinking exclusively of you and me at the moment. There are—many other considerations."
"Be good enough to name them!"
A flash of humor appeared in Esther Mary's eyes, but she considered carefully before replying. "I'll not insult you," she declared at last, "by saying that I'm somewhat different from what seems to be your preconceived opinion of me. However, let me point out to you that Arnold and Myra are likely to come home at any moment. What's more, it is not a desire for a breath of mountain air that brings me here. I have business of a very serious nature to transact with the commander."
"Oh yes. The commander," Jeremy murmured. It was painfully obvious to him that he had chosen the worst possible moment to press his attentions on her, and he searched for an avenue of graceful retreat. He might even be able to turn this situation to his advantage. "If I gather correctly, the commander is friendly to you."
"He is."
"Then perhaps you could do something for me."
"What would you like me to do?" Esther Mary jammed her thumbs into her boucanier belt and studied him casually.
"Ask the commander for my release. I'm a prisoner here and I'll have no life, no future, unless I can reach the Duchess of Glasgow and get her to intervene with the governor general for me."
"I'd like to help, Brother Jeremy, but you ask the impossible." The amusement died out of her eyes, and her face became serious. "Now I'll tell you something. The reason I've come here is to warn the commander that Sir Arthur Bartlett is planning a military campaign against the Maroons. It isn't easy to get information from the brigade's headquarters, of course, but I understand that the troops will march in the next week or two."
The young gunsmith stared at her; suddenly he slapped his thigh and shouted exuberantly. "This is just what I need! I'm sorry for the Maroons—but they'll be able to take care of themselves, I have no doubt. Now—I can do what I've wanted to do!"