Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,64

moved away, and he couldn’t see it anymore.

Finally, he closed the window and latched it back. No sense giving the officials any help. He pulled the book out of the bookcase and was staring down the stairs five minutes later when the men knocked on the study door.

“Time’s up.”

“It’s open,” he said.

The door swung in, and the two uniformed officials stumbled into the room. “Where is she?”

Asher glanced up. If they bought that she’d escaped through some secret door or tunnel under the house, it would buy her a little more time to get farther around the island.

“She’s gone,” he said with a shrug.

One of the uniforms punched him in the jaw, and his head reeled back. He just laughed.

“We’ll have you charged with helping her escape in addition to the murder charges.”

“In the first place, I haven’t murdered anyone,” Asher said. “And in the second place, Grace is not a criminal.”

“She’s a runaway slave.”

“She was merely following her master’s orders. She wasn’t breaking Eleu laws.”

The official cuffed Asher using more force than necessary, then patted him down and led him outside while his partner took the bait and started down the dungeon steps in search of his pet. Idiots.

***

Grace stared at her master’s house until it became an indiscernible dot on the horizon. She’d wanted to shout that he hadn’t killed Darcy, but she’d been so panicked that every time she tried to make a word come out, the only one that would make it past her lips had been, no.

Thankfully, since Asher had slapped her, she’d snapped out of whatever that was and was at least able to focus on the task at hand.

She was far enough out now that she cut the engine and let the boat drift. A part of her was tempted to leave and never set foot on the island again. But it was far too dangerous. She had no idea where she was or what direction would take her back to the mainland. If she went the wrong way, the boat would run out of fuel and she’d be drifting out at sea, at the mercy of the elements.

Even if there was a chance, she couldn’t bring herself to disobey his last order. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sure her face was puffy from the tears. Not only was she convinced she wasn’t fit to give herself to anybody in this state, she couldn’t imagine being with someone besides Asher. Even if the order had come from him. It seemed profane.

The thought of betraying her master by letting any other man use her body made her stomach churn in rebellion. But she could barely bring herself to question the command. She’d do whatever he told her to do, even if it meant going to another man’s bed.

The sun was setting when she reached the shore. A dense and foreboding jungle loomed in the distance, but on the coastline were the artistically thatched huts of the native people.

Torches were being lit, and fires were being stoked beneath the evening meal that had been hunted in the nearby jungle. Though some of the islanders owned shops and restaurants in the town and used money, a good portion of them preferred to live off the land as they had for centuries.

She was glad she was wearing something relatively normal. In her bikini and khaki cargo pants, she looked like a girl gone wild on spring break. But at least she didn’t look like some kinked-out slave, except for the collar around her throat and the nearly healed brand on her hip.

As she neared the camp, a few of the islanders looked up. Their expressions weren’t friendly. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

She didn’t see anyone fitting James’s description. Maybe he no longer lived with them, or maybe there was another settlement on a different part of the island Asher wasn’t aware of.

A few of the men moved away from the fire toward her. She had to fight every instinct not to run, but the only options this late were the jungle or the boat, and neither place seemed safe in the encroaching darkness.

They spoke rapidly to each other in their native tongue. Grace wouldn’t have understood them even if she’d considered herself fluent. They were speaking far too fast. A few kept pointing to their throats, and she knew they were having some kind of conversation about her slave status.

“Do any of you speak English?”

They stopped for