“Can you get me some clothes?” Regan asked. “Please. I could return them later, but I have to have more than that man’s shirt.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Travis said I was not to give you clothes or anything else besides food and hot water and that I was to tell you he’d hired a man to stand below the window all day, in case you tried to escape that way.”
Running to the window, Regan saw that what the girl had said was true. “You have to help me,” she pleaded. “This man is keeping me prisoner here. Please, please, help me escape.”
The girl hastily set the tray down, her eyes wide with fear. “Mr. Travis threatened me life if I let you go. I’m sorry, miss, but I’ve got meself to think of.” Without another word, the girl was gone from the room, and the heavy lock was securely refastened.
Regan wasn’t sure at first of the feeling that ran through her. All her life had been pleasant, uneventful, almost bland, with few problems to cope with and fewer people to know, but now everything was piling on top of her, weighing her down. She hadn’t wanted to leave her uncle’s house, nor did she want to remain the prisoner of some horrible man.
Picking the tray up with both hands, she threw it against the wall and then stood watching as eggs and jam went sliding down the smooth plaster surface. Her outburst did not help her mood but instead made it worse. Flinging herself onto the bed, she screamed into a pillow, kicked her feet, and slammed her fists into the feather mattress.
In spite of her anger and her complete frustration at her helplessness, her exhaustion was stronger. As her muscles began to relax, she fell into a heavy, lifeless sleep. She didn’t even wake up when the maid cleaned the food off the wall, nor did she awaken when Travis entered the room, his arms full of bright boxes, and leaned over her, smiling at her sweet, innocent face.
Chapter 3
“YOU’RE A SWEET TIDBIT TO COME BACK TO,” TRAVIS whispered, nibbling at her earlobe. As she began to awaken, he stepped away, wanting to watch her as she stretched, her curvy little body molding the shirt she wore into enticing hills and valleys. As she stretched, her eyes still closed, her breasts strained against the buttons, pulling the fabric apart and letting him glimpse an exquisite diamond of flesh. A little smile touched her lips before she opened her eyes and saw him.
“You!” she gasped. With an agile leap, she flew out of the bed and dove for him, fists clenched, shirttail riding up.
Travis caught both her fists in one of his. “Now that’s what I call a greeting,” he practically purred, pulling her into his arms. “It’s not easy for me to remember I’m supposed to treat you like a lady when you fling yourself into my arms like that.”
“I did not fling myself at you,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Why do you always twist everything so? You couldn’t possibly believe I want anything from you except to be released. You have no right—.”
A quick kiss cut her off. “You know I’ll release you just as soon as you tell me where to take you. Surely a young lady like you has relatives. Give me a name, and I’ll take you there.”
“And have you brag about what you’ve done to me? No, I couldn’t possibly agree to such a thing. Release me, and I’ll find my own way home.”
“You are not a good liar,” he smiled. “Those eyes of yours are as clear as a doll’s. Every thought you have is written across them. I’ve told you several times the conditions under which I’ll release you, and that’s the end of it. I’m not going to give in, so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that you will have to.”
Jerking away from him, she set her jaw. “I can be as stubborn as you.” She smiled wickedly. “And besides, I know you’re leaving for America soon. You’ll have to release me then.”
Travis seemed to consider this idea for a moment. “I’ll have to do something with you then, won’t I?” he replied, rubbing his chin. “I’d certainly hate to sail for America and leave those legs of yours without a proper protector.”
Gasping, Regan grabbed an edge of the bed sheet and tried to pull it off, but a far corner was caught. As Travis moved toward her and leaned across the bed to release the corner, he slipped a
hand up under her shirt and gave her buttocks a firm caress.
Regan squealed once before she stood up and snatched the sheet from him, wrapping it tightly around her lower body. “How can you treat me this way? What have I ever done to you to deserve this? I’ve never hurt anyone in my life.”
Her words were so heartfelt that Travis lowered his eyes. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe I should just release you, but somehow I can’t. It would be like throwing a wildflower into a snowstorm or, considering the life on these docks, more like a fireplace.” When he looked back at her, his eyes were soft and tender. “I don’t have much of a choice about what I do. I can’t let you go, yet I don’t want to keep you prisoner. Lord! I don’t even own slaves, much less lock up innocent little girls.”
When he’d finished his speech, he sank heavily into a chair in a corner of the room, and Regan had the oddest feeling that she wanted to comfort him. During the awkward silence she noticed the boxes on top of the big trunk. “Did you bring me a dress?” she asked quietly.
“Did I bring you a dress,” he grinned, seemingly over his momentary distress. Pulling string from one box, he began to unfold a piece of velvet of a color that Regan had never seen before: almost brown, almost red, but with an overall gold sheen to the fabric. As he handed it to her, draping it across her arms, he said, “It’s the color of your hair, not red, not brown, not blonde, but all of them.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “How…how romantic. I didn’t know you’d—.”
Laughing, he took the dress from her. “You don’t know anything about me and I know even less about you. You haven’t even told me your name.”
Hesitating, she ran her hands across the velvet in his arms. All her clothes had always been of the cheapest cloth available. The velvet was the most beautiful fabric she’d ever seen, yet as badly as she wanted to feel it next to her skin, she was cautious. “I’m Regan,” she answered quietly.
“No last name? Just Regan?”
“That’s all the name I’ll tell you and if you think you can bribe me with a pretty new dress, you’re wrong,” she said haughtily.
“I don’t use bribes,” he said flatly. “I’ve told you the conditions for your release, and the dress has nothing to do with them.” Tossing the velvet garment onto the bed, he went to the other packages, tearing them open one by one and dumping them on the bed. There was a dress of pale blue silk crepe trimmed with peacock blue ribbons and a nightgown of cotton lawn embroidered with hundreds of tiny pink rosebuds. Two pairs of thin leather slippers, dyed to match the velvet and the blue, tumbled from the last package.
“They are beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Regan gasped, holding the silk to her cheek.