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substance over her sole. He hummed a soft melody under his breath, winding strips of cloth over and
around her foot. Meanwhile, Griffin swabbed his wounded shoulder with whiskey, cursing as the sting of
the alcohol sank into the cut.
Thank you, Celia murmured to Aug when he had finished bandaging both her feet. She turned her
palms up and shrugged helplessly. I wish& I wish I could repay you somehow.
Aug pointed to her hair and replied. Celia looked at Griffin questioningly.
He says he could make some powerful charms if he had a lock of your hair, Griffin said. He shook his
head. No, Aug.
Hesitantly Celia reached out to Griffin s long leg and touched the top of his boot, where she
remembered he kept his knife. He arched a winged black eyebrow but made no move to stop her. Her
fingertips slid around the solid knife handle and extracted it gently. Trying to comb her hand through her
hair, she was dismayed to feel the number of huge snarls and tangles in the golden mass. After she found
a small lock near the back, she raised the knife and cut it quickly.
Here, she said, handing the glinting skein to Aug, who thanked her with a nod. His blunt fingers moved
with surprising delicacy as he wrapped the hair in a scrap of cloth.
That wasn t necessary, Griffin said.
It was, Celia replied, watching Aug as he left the hut. She touched one of her neatly wrapped feet. I
owe him a debt for helping me.
And you feel obligated to pay your debts?
Yes.
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You owe me your life.
Yes. She met his eyes without blinking.
I look forward to being reimbursed, he said mockingly.
Something tightened inside her body, a knot of repulsion and anguish. Her loving husband was dead, and
she was the prisoner of this dirty, hairy-faced stranger. He was nothing but a vagabond, a jackal who
survived by stealing from others. For a moment her hatred of him outstripped her fear. She hated his
rough beard and sullen-looking mouth, his insolence.
I think, she said with every ounce of dignity she possessed, that your pride would not allow you to
force yourself on a woman who did not want you.
Easily reading her contempt for him, Griffin sneered. There are many things I value over my pride,petite.
Your body happens to be one of them.
As if a swift storm had appeared over an already choppy sea, his mood switched from unpleasant to
cruel. When she timidly asked him where she could see to her private needs, he walked her into the
woods where the others could not see them, and he mocked her embarrassment. Although he kept his
back turned, Celia was mortified to the point of tears. The sound of her quiet sniffling as she rejoined him
seemed to annoy him beyond reason.
Stop sniveling, you little fool, he said in exasperation. God knows why relieving yourself is a matter of
such delicacy.
He snapped at her again when she didn t move fast enough to suit him. When the hem of the wrinkled
black shirt had ridden up her thighs, he inquired sarcastically if she desired to be raped by every member
of the crew, beginning with himself. At his bidding, she seated herself in the pirogue, staying as far away
from him as possible. After exchanging a few parting words with Aug, Griffin clapped him on the back
and boarded the vessel.
Employing oars and long poles, the new crew guided the pirogue along the sluggish bayou. In spite of
their earlier insolence, the men quickly became accustomed to Celia s presence, and they made no
overtures to her. She found her attention captured by the exotic scenery: dense foliage and clusters of
amethyst irises, muddy water filled with turtles, thick-whiskered muskrat feeding on cattail roots. The
insects seemed to plague her more than they did the others, and she slapped at the flies and mosquitoes
irritably. By the end of the day, she decided she had never felt so grimy and uncomfortable.
Night brought coolness with it, and Celia began to blink sleepily, wondering if the journey would ever
come to an end. The pirogue passed through the last humid stretch of the bayou and through its head,
into a wide, cool lake. The light of a full moon glittered over the dark water.
Griffin was faced with a decision as the vessel surged across the rippled surface of the lake. If he
pressed on through the night, he would have Celia at the Vallerand plantation in a matter of hours. They
could cross the lake, travel by horseback to the Mississippi River, find someone to ferry them across,
and make a short trip through the Bayou St. John. Legare was probably at their heels already. It would
be best to deliver Celia to the Vallerands quickly, and then disappear into the night.
He looked at Celia. She sat a few feet away from him, huddled in a ball of misery, resting her head and
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arms in her lap. The disheveled cloud of hair obscured her face. Her neck was streaked with sweat and
dirt. The black shirt was pulled closely over her body, but he knew that underneath it were bony knees
and hips as slim as a boy s. Wryly he wondered how she could have inspired such lust earlier.
She sat up and looked straight ahead, clasping her hands in her lap like a prim little girl. Griffin was
puzzled by the sight of her. She couldn t possibly be the same creature who wrapped herself around him
like a second skin when he kissed her. Had he imagined the warm silken mouth, the seductive undulation
of her body against his& Had he been so exhilarated by a mixture of bloodlust and danger that he had felt
a response she hadn t given?
Celia rested her chin on her hands and closed her eyes. She was about to collapse from exhaustion.
Scowling, Griffin decided they would rest for the night. The sleep would do them both good, and a few
more hours would make little difference to his plans. As for the debt he had threatened to claim from
Celia, he d said that merely to torment her. She had been correct earlier. He would not force himself on a
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