Chapter Three

Aura was woken by the touch of something damp and cold to her cheek; she jerked her head away from the unexpected contact and struggled to open her eyes. The cold cloth touched her skin again, and she forced her lids to open. It was dark, the face above her lit by the wavering light of a candle. Duke was bathing away the dirt and bood on her skin, and Aura wondered vaguely why the woman wasn't trying to help. It seemed logical to her that a woman would take care of the sick or wounded, not a man. She closed her eyes. No matter. Even though the cool rag rubbed her skin painfully, she was glad to be woken from her nightmares.

She protested softly when the warmth of her blanket was taken away. But it was soon replaced with another, and this softer, warmer covering was tucked under her chin as she fell back into nightmarish slumber.

A sharp slap woke Aura up a few hours later. She flinched open her eyes to find herself glared at by a woman with dark, Spanish looks and too little clothing. The woman's brown eyes smoldered; she was pretty but gave off the aura of a harlot. Her shirt dipped low to reveal full breasts; her eyes were smudged with kohl; her pouting lips were bright red.

"You just remember that you are Jester's woman now, and don't you dare go after my Duke." The woman hissed at her in the same loud, high voice that Aura had heard the day before.

Aura did not know what to respond, so she said nothing. The woman snorted and walked out of the room, swaying her wide hips as she went. With a wince and a frown, Aura rubbed her forehead, wiping away the hair that stuck to her sweaty face. Her skin was irritated; every rub of the blanket painful, and her chemise was so damp with sweat that it stuck to her uncomfortably, tangling around her legs.

She moaned and pushed the blanket off of her, hearing it fall to the floor with a soft whoosh. But then the chill of the room touched her skin, cooling the sweat quickly, and she was cold again. She leaned over, intending to pull the blanket back up, but her side would allow her to do no such thing. A streak of pain ran up her side and down her leg, and she lay still, panting, while it subsided to a dull ache.

Aura closed her eyes. Trying to breathe deeply. For once in her life, she would have given anything to be back home and under the constant duress of her mother's incessant marriage plans. Anything to escape the pain. She eased back onto the pillow and lay, staring up at the ceiling. As if she didn't have problems enough, now she had to relieve herself. She sighed and almost laughed at how horrible the situation was. Well, she thought, when it rains, it pours...

Duke came in, a bowl in one hand, bag in the other. Without a word, he bent, helped her rest against the wall with a pillow behind her back, and sat on the edge of the bed, dropping the brown bag on the floor. He was going to feed her. Aura raised one eyebrow.

"I can feed myself." She said. Duke looked at her, his gaze slow and emotionless. Then he gave her the bowl and watched as she set it carefully in her lap and spooned it into her mouth with her right hand. Her left arm she was careful not to move. Even the slight bending of her head aggravated her wound.

Her belly was soon full; Aura ate much less than she imagined she could. Duke took the bowl and set it by the door. Again, she wondered why the woman wasn't playing nursemaid, and then she remembered the harsh slap and jealous words and was glad that she wasn't helping. Duke moved to help her lay down again, but she stopped him.

The slightest bit of question came into his green eyes. "I need to check your wound." He said.

Aura took a deep breath, feeling her cheeks burn a little. She had to say what she had to say. "I have to pee." She blurted, turning deep red when a small smile passed over Duke's amused face.

He stood and helped her rise. Pain shot up and down Aura's side, but she bit the inside of her cheek and bore it, leaning on Duke's arm as he lead her through the door. They emerged into a dark room lit by a single lantern hanging from a hook on the low ceiling. The only furniture was a table and four chairs, all looking like they had seen much, much better days, a black stove with a pot of rice simmering atop it, and a cot in the corner. Jones and the bald man sat at the table playing cards, and the Spanish woman was rolling out dough on the other end of the table.

Aura felt naked standing there in her ripped chemise as Duke quickly grabbed a large coat and swung it over her shoulders. Jones looked her up and down, eyes greedy, but the other man barely glanced up. He rubbed his bald head and laid down his cards. Jones looked at them and swore, throwing his own cards on the table with a slap. The other man took the hat that was between them; a few coins jingled in it.

As they passed the woman on the way to the back door, she looked up and glared at Aura. If looks could have killed, Aura would have dropped lifeless on the spot. Duke ignored the woman.

It was raining outside. The short path through the weeds to the outhouse looked a mile long to Aura; she was already tired from the few steps it had taken to get out the door, and wondered if she was going to make it there and back again. She reached the outhouse, panting, and after relieving herself, struggled to stand up again. The door felt heavy, though it was probably very light; everything felt heavy. Her legs, her arms, her head; her chest resisted every breath. She stepped out and almost fell.

She was thankful when Duke picked her up and carried her back to the house. Her side was throbbing stronger again, and the rain was biting. He entered the house and laid her carefully on the bed, sitting beside her once more to check her wound. As he unwrapped it, she studied his face.

He did not fit her mental picture of how a kidnapper would act or look. He was too clean, too normal. Aura had read too many novels; she thought of thieves as dirty, ugly men who did nothing but take and take without any consideration or morals at all. Duke did not treat her with partiality, but he was gentle with her wound, and patient. His lack of much emotion was disconcerting, though. Aura wondered if his mask hid a monster.

"How long will it take?"

Duke gently peeled the last layer of bandage from her side. "How long will what take?"

Aura breathed against a sharp pain coming from her side. "How long will it take to reach... Jester?" She winced. And who was Jester?

Duke tilted his head slightly. "A week. Two, maybe."

Aura nodded. "Why marry me?" She asked. She had guessed that the kidnapping had to do with her father's money. That was obvious. But the plan of marriage still didn't make sense.

Duke checked the stitches and began binding her side. "Your father owns half the town."

Aura shrugged slightly. "So?"

Duke looked at her as if she were witless. "So if your father were to die suddenly, old as he is, that's a lot of power for his heirs. Married to the mayor's daughter, owning half the town..."

Aura took a deep breath. Why had she not put two and two together? Of course more power and money could be had from a marriage. It would make this man a king, to do with his town that he would. If he had enough men in his band, he could easily control the town. Most of the townspeople were either too old to fight, or too young. Residents Aura's age usually left as soon as they were of age. She sighed.

"Where is he?" She doubted that anyone would tell her that, on the slim chance she could escape, but she asked anyway.

"In the mountains." Duke answered. Aura smiled slightly. The mountains were vast, places to hide numberless. Duke's reply was as elusive as it was obvious. She thought for a moment, watching as the light caught in his eyes and played with the color.

"How did you know who I was?" She was puzzled by this; she had never seen Duke in her life, but he had known who she was the minute he saw her and she had neither been at her home or at a place that people knew she went to.

A mysterious, small smile passed over Duke's features. He studied her face for a moment, eyes somehow amused."JuJu told me." He finished and walked out the door. Aura felt fear and anger well up. If he had dared to hurt her JuJu... she took a deep breath, fearful for the innocent little girl.

"What did you do with her?" She yelled after him, and she tried to get up. The effort had her doubled over with pain for using the muscle that was seemingly ripped in half. She cried out in agony, unable to move or breathe or think. All she knew was pain.

xxx

Duke went back into the room when he heard Aura's strangled cry. Her bent form and lack of breathing told him that she had probably ripped the stitches keeping her side intact. He jerked the blanket off of her and knelt in the small space before her. Her pain was so great that she was not even crying. Gently but swiftly, he lifted her feet back onto the bed and made her lie down. Her entire right side was bloody.

"Fool." He muttered, talking not only to her for trying to move with such a wound, but to himself for taunting her while she was wounded. If she died, Jester would kill Peleg, Jones, Carlotta, and probably anyone else that got in his way. Duke was the only man who did not fear death from Jester. He was worth more alive. He called for Carlotta. The sensual Spanish woman sauntered into the room, her eyes petulant as always.

"Get me a needle, thread, and bandages. Now." He ordered her, having little patience for her games of coyness. She pouted, but hurried off to do his bidding, returning in less than a minute with the things he had requested. He was used to treating wounds from his long service for Jester. Jester's bodyguards, henchmen, and thieves liked to fight and almost always came home wounded. Easing the soaked, bloody bandages off of Aura's side, Duke threw them to the floor and grabbed one of the clean rags to wipe away the scarlet and assess the damage done. Three of the ten stitches had ripped. He quickly threaded the needle and repaired the damage, ignoring Carlotta as she stood behind him and tried to help. She was more of a nuisance than a help; she wanted his attention.

Aura was stronger than he had expected her to be. She did not faint at pain, and showed a hint of being fiercely protective of those dear to her. As he re-bandaged her side, he felt her eyes on his face, always searching for something. Even when in the deepest throes of her pain, she stared at him as if she were trying to find something that she thought was there. Some emotion, perhaps. Duke had learned to limit his physical output of emotion and feeling, using the impassiveness to his advantage. His calm stare usually frightened people.

Aura was not intimidated by him. He gave Carlotta the last of the bloody rags and looked Aura in the eye. Her bright blue eyes stood out in her exceptionally beautiful face, filled with pain, but enduring. Even in the glistening pallor of agony, she was exquisite. Her dark brown hair waved around her pale, flawless skin; she had an innocence that he had not encountered in a woman. Jester would be pleased to know that the woman he was going to marry for her position was good looking. He was greedy, sadistic, and very motivated by self pleasure.

Duke stood and covered Aura with the blanket. She took a long, deep, cautious breath and stared at him with a hint of anger in her pain-filled eyes.

"What did you do with her?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but no less filled with fierce love. As Carlotta left with the rags, Duke picked up the items from his bag that had been scattered on the floor.

He straightened and told her, honestly, "I let her go."

As he left, Aura closed her eyes and sighed, and the first tear he had seen her cry slid from beneath her right lid. He closed the door and locked it. Aura was an exceptional woman.

The shack they were hiding in was little more than a chicken-house with a few closets and a stove. Carlotta sat at the table centered in the main room, leaning her chin on her hand as she gazed at him with flirtatious eyes. Jones and Peleg were playing cards at the other end of the square table, and a plate of food was set at the empty chair. However obnoxious she was, Carlotta did make good food. Instead of the usual rolls with supper, she made tortillas and rice with a spicy tang to it. He sat and ate; he had not eaten since seven in the morning, and it was now almost six o'clock at night.

He ate quickly. As he finished, Carlotta rose from her chair and smiled at him seductively, coming behind him and sliding her hands over his shoulders. "You look so tired, Dukey." She began to squeeze his neck; her long nails pushed irritatingly at his skin. "A nice massage will help you relax." She bent and kissed his ear.

Duke slapped her hand away and shoved his chair back, standing. "I told you not to touch me." He growled at her. Carlotta was one of the few people who could wiggle her way under his mask and bring out an emotion. Unfortunately for her, it was annoyance. He stalked away from her as her face crumpled in mock tears and slammed open the door to go outside. It was raining hard, but the cold did good to cool his nerves. He walked down the muddy road that led to the shack and out to the main road; he kept going until he had walked off the strain of having two women to deal with. Two very different women. One unspeakably irritating, the other unexpectedly brave.

The rain dripped from his hair to his face, from his chin to his clothes; he felt like one of the soaked orchard trees that drains water into the ground. A fence bordered the orchard to his right, and to his left was untamed forest. They would be traveling through that forest as soon as Aura was well enough to travel.

Duke scoffed. Jones never stopped creating trouble. It had been chance that they had decided to stake out in the abandoned house until they found Aura, only to find her there already. Stupidity that had compelled him not to send Peleg with Jones in the search for Aura. Chance that he would startle Jones enough to stab Aura. They would be at least a week late because of it, although the time saved in searching made for a little leniency.

He turned and started to double back. If he left Jones and Peleg for too long, they would begin to fight, and their tempers could earn Duke another wound to care for.

xxx

Naime sat impatiently in her chair, keeping a smile pasted on her face as she waited for Aura to arrive. James Lebeau sat opposite her, viewing the room with interest in his eyes. And did Naime see a sort of possession there? She narrowed her gaze. Perhaps her fool of a daughter had more sense than Naime knew. The way Lebeau was taking everything in as if it were already his irked her. It was still her house, and she wasn't planning to die anytime soon.

She had not seen Aura since yesterday, but that did not cause her any worry. Aura had been gone overnight before. Where she went and stayed, Naime had no idea, nor did she care. Right now, all she cared about was that she had to entertain her daughter's suitor for who knew how long.

She sipped from her tea and studied Lebeau's handsome face. He had a square jaw that was softened by his stylishly cut blonde hair, and his dark brown eyes reminded her of David in his younger years. His lips were not full, but neither were they thin. He had the smirk of someone who thought he was better than his circumstances, and was toying with his brown leather gloves that matched the brown trim on his cream-colored suit.

"So, tell me, Mrs. Thoene, what is the state of your finances?" He asked suddenly. Naime scowled, and he quickly dug his way out of the hole. "I mean, if something were to happen to your husband or yourself, or, God forbid, both of you, shouldn't someone of the family know the ropes?" He smiled, almost charming. "I say this as the eager future son-in-law."

Naime raised an eyebrow and wondered if perhaps Lebeau was more cunning than met the eye. She sipped her tea again then set down the delicate cup and saucer, leaning back in her chair. "Well, Mr. Lebeau--"

"Please," He interrupted, "Call me James."

Naime nodded. "Very well, James. I think our banker or David would better be able to tell you our financial state, though I do believe, monetarily, we are worth quite over five hundred-thousand dollars." She smiled demurely and noticed the look of delight that passed quickly through Lebeau's face. Aura was right. He was a money-hunter. Not that that mattered to Naime, for she had the same motives. His match to Aura would make them the richest family in the country.

"That is quite impressive." Lebeau smiled. "Tell me, has Aura rescinded her words of yesterday?" There was a slight look of hurt pride in Lebeau's charming brown eyes.

Naime tilted her head. "I believe she will." She lied. Anything to keep Lebeau willing while she worked on Aura's mentality. The girl was headstrong and much too romantic for her own good. She needed to be brought down to earth.

Lebeau nodded. He looked at the expensive mantle clock above the fireplace; it had been nearly an hour since Aura was supposed to have been there. "And... ahem... where is my future bride?" He asked. His voice was tinged with irritation. No lady would ever keep a gentleman waiting so long. Naime searched for a quick lie, but nothing good came to mind. She decided on the truth, hoping she had fed Lebeau enough bait to reel him in despite the rudeness of her daughter.

"Well, Mr-- James, to tell you the truth, I have not seen Aura today." She sighed as a mourning mother should and folded her hands in her lap. "You see, she and I had words yesterday-- not..." She held up a hand to reassure Lebeau "... about your marriage to her, but words of a matter between ourselves, and she has not spoken to me since." The small twist about their argument not being because of the match did not bother Naime. It was all the better that he think Aura did not show up because she was upset with Naime, and would in time see the light and marry him.

Lebeau nodded understandingly. "I see." He stood. "Well, I did enjoy the visit, disappointed though I am not to see Aura, but I must go. Shall I call again, perhaps tomorrow?" He picked up his hat and propped it jauntily on his proud head. Naime stood as well.

"I am sure she will have come to her senses by then, James." She smiled and hid her sudden weakness as he bowed over her hand.

"Until tomorrow, then." He returned her smile and showed himself out. Naime sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. She had been out of her bed more often than she should have been. Rest had been scarce these past few days. She stared out the window, watching Lebeau as he left, manner somewhat cocky but ultimately charming. That is, until you knew him better. Then his real self could not be hid.

Lebeau as a charmer reminded her of the man she had loved more than thirty years ago. The man Aura had suddenly brought out into the foreground of her memory yesterday. The only man who had ever made her ecstatically happy. It was strange, but just then she couldn't remember his name. Only the face; dark hair, brilliant eyes, tanned skin. A figure that had made most of the young women in town swoon. But he had chosen Naime.

She remembered standing on her porch and watching him walk up the path with a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Flowers he had picked himself, just for her. Kisses he had showered on her lips when they were alone, and the one night when they had almost broken the rules of making love before marriage.

Naime blushed; the memory was still hot within her. Suddenly, she saw what her daughter wanted; the life that Naime had almost had. She would have been poor, but loved. Now, she would never know which life was better, because she had chosen comfort over her love for him, and she was living the penalty for that decision. Every time she had been in bed with David, her mind projected her lover, wondering what it would have been like with him. Every time David gave her expensive gifts, she remembered the other man who loved her, and the gifts he had given her; gifts that were worth little monetarily, but so much emotionally.

Why could she not remember his name?

Naime stood and made her way slowly up the stairs to her room. She did not go immediately to her bed; she walked over to her jewelry box and dug through the pearls and diamonds, rubies and gold, looking for it. Its smooth surface soon met her fingers, and she pulled out the small red rock that he had given her; the rock she had lain on when they had nearly made love in a meadow. He had given it to her as a memory. A promise that one day he would ask for her hand, and one day they would not have to stop themselves.

That day had never come.

With a sigh, Naime put the rock back among the glittering jewels and shakily sank into her bed. She had not thought of him for so many years, yet he had always been present in the back of her mind. She sank into her pillows and pulled the soft down blanket over her body. Looking around at her opulent boudoir and rubbing a hand over her soft, silky day gown, she wondered.

Had it been worth giving up love?