Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,63

in case there was still a way out of this.

One of the officials wrapped a hand around Grace’s arm and jerked her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Collins. The law is the law. And unfortunately we have no legislation protecting the general welfare of slaves short of not killing them.” He gave Asher a dark look as if to say death was far worse than abuse.

She was still chanting, “No, no, no, no, no,” like a crazy person. Asher couldn’t say he blamed her. A similar chant had started inside his own head, only he’d managed to keep it inside. For now.

“Let me just have a few minutes to speak with her alone, to say goodbye.”

The officials exchanged a glance and shrugged, seeing no harm in it. One of them seemed sorry to be returning her to a man who might have been hurting her. “Fifteen minutes. We’ll be waiting for both of you by the front door.”

***

As soon as they were alone Asher hauled back and slapped her. He needed Grace to be lucid and to get over whatever hysterical episode she was having. They didn’t have time for it. Her hand shot up to her cheek and her eyes immediately cleared and went to his. Her lip trembled, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, quiet and waiting, and at least seemingly in control of herself for the time being.

“We don’t have a lot of time here. I need you to listen to me.” He unlatched the window and pushed it open. “You have to leave right now. Go to the dock and use my boat. It’s not meant for taking far out to sea. Just take it out about a mile and then circle to the other end of the island where the trees are denser. You’ll see the huts that the natives live in. A friend of mine, James, lives with them. He’s got blond hair and brown eyes. I want you to give yourself to him and do whatever he says. He’ll protect you.”

Asher pulled her against him, knowing he was probably crushing her, but she seemed too dazed to protest. He inhaled her coconut-scented shampoo. She smelled like the island. When she didn’t immediately answer, he shook her.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Master.” Her voice was so small. He would have given anything to change things. Why the fuck hadn’t he and James put the body in an incinerator like they had some sense? No body. No crime. But no, they’d stupidly buried it. Hadn’t they watched enough television to know nothing ever stayed buried? Hadn’t he known on some level that this would come back to bite him at the worst possible time? A part of him had wanted to get caught back then, but that line of self-destructive thinking had ended the moment Grace entered his life.

She reluctantly pulled out of his embrace and started to climb out the window, her movements stilted and robotic as if she were on autopilot. He was thankful the study was on the first floor. At least she wouldn’t have to negotiate a high drop.

“Grace?”

She turned. The plea in her eyes startled him, as if she might beg him to run with her. But he couldn’t. It was too risky. The officials wanted him more than they wanted her. He was the criminal in their eyes. She would only cost them reward money.

“You know I love you, right? I loved you from the first moment I saw you. If I never see you again, I needed you to know.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I love you too, Master. Maybe not from the beginning. I was too scared in the beginning.”

“I know.” He would always wonder when she’d started to fall in love, but he couldn’t afford that kind of self-indulgence right now. Every minute they took talking was a minute she couldn’t make her escape. He pulled her to him again, his mouth crushing hers, tasting her, probably for the last time. “Go,” he whispered into her hair.

When she’d gone, he watched out the window as she ran to the pier. Every few minutes he glanced down at his watch. He could barely see the boat, a small speck on the water. He wondered if he’d even hear it start up. A few minutes later, he did hear it. From the study, it was a tiny sound, no louder than the buzz of a bumblebee. Then the little white speck