Chapter Two

"He is terribly handsome, is he not?" Orlando said.

The Dane woke with the governor's pleasant voice in his ears and lay with his eyes closed for a few moments more as he oriented himself. He was on his back in the softest bed he'd slept in for a while, and he could hear at least two people moving around in a room much larger than the one he'd fallen asleep in.

"I have never understood why golden hair is so prized, but I must agree with you, milord. Your new slave is terribly handsome. Milord! Why did you strike me?"

"For impertinence, of course. You know how irksome this situation is to me, not to mention ironic, and you know how I abhor irony, Johnny. Now, help me with this, if you please. Be useful as well as decorative."

The slave looked through his fringe of pale lashes and saw the major pull the ornate jacket from his master's shoulders. The governor undid the laces at his throat and divested himself of the creamy linen shirt. His smooth skin was well tanned all the way to where it disappeared under the waistband of the satin breeches and his physique was for more muscular than the Norseman would have expected. Following the line of dark hair that bisected the flat belly, the Dane's gaze lingered on the contours of Orlando's crotch.

"He is awake, milord."

"And has been for a few moments, the sly devil." As Orlando approached the bed, he donned a tunic of coarse weave, the blue dye faded to gray. "Can you sit up, man?"

"Aye." The slave sat up, noting that he was naked under the sheet. "Was the water drugged?"

"Yes, it was, but you need not fear that advantage was taken while you were unconscious. You were bathed and examined and your hurts were tended, and then you were brought here so I might interview you. What is your name?"

The question was so unexpected that the Dane paused before he answered. "My name is Viggo, my lord."

"Viggo," Orlando repeated.

The Dane felt a strange little flutter in his groin as the aristocrat spoke his name. "Aye, my lord. Son of Morten."

"His lordship does not care who sired you," Johnny said.

Orlando put a hand on his best friend's arm. "Softly, Johnny," he said. "Remember what this man has been through. Can you not extend the hand of kindness?"

Johnny's dark eyes met Orlando's and a silent exchange occurred. "Of course, milord," Johnny inclined his head in agreement. "I would not like to be in the power of such a man as Geoffrey Rush."

"If you were free, Viggo, where would you go?" Orlando asked.

"I would find a way to free Miranda and return her to our home."

"Listen to him," Orlando leaned on Johnny's shoulder. "How bravely he speaks. There's a stout heart in that sculptor's dream of a body, Johnny; mark my words."

"I believe this Norseman would do as he says," Johnny answered. "No matter what obstacles stood in his way."

"Who is Miranda?" Orlando asked. "Is she your wife? Your sister perhaps?"

"A woman of my village, my lord," Viggo replied.

"What is her relationship with you that you would endure such torture to protect her?"

"Every day since she was old enough, I have seen Miranda drawing water from the fountain near my garden. We often spoke and I was privy to many of the small and large doings of her life. How could I allow her to suffer if I had the means to prevent it?"

Orlando and Johnny traded glances before Orlando pulled the major aside. "Johnny, I know we haven't the time right now, but this man and his female companion must be freed and returned to their home."

"You'll not hear an argument from me, though I would like to know this Viggo's story."

"Perhaps we will have leisure to hear it before Mr. Mortensen leaves us."

"May I assume we are adding a stop to our usual round of taverns this evening?"

Orlando nodded and turned back to Viggo. "Where might Miranda be found?" he asked.

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It was several hours later when Viggo was wakened again. He'd eaten well by his standards, a couple of hard rolls and some fruit from the tray by the bed, before his body's need for rest had overcome him again. He lay down on a rug near the entrance and it seemed that only a few minutes went by before the door opened.

"Viggo!" Miranda cried out, flying into the Dane's arms.

"Shhh," Viggo soothed her, stroking her tumbled golden locks. "These men mean you no harm, I think. They removed my chains and treated me kindly."

Miranda raised her face from Viggo's chest and looked curiously at Orlando and Johnny. "They said they were rescuing me when they snatched me from the street, but I was sure they were lords who meant to have their way with me."

"You're a bonny lass," Orlando made a small bow. "However, I must confess to a fetish for a willing partner. If you would but wink your eye, I would top you gladly, but I can see that you are not of a mind for dalliance just now."

Viggo kissed Miranda's forehead. "It is all right, girl," he said in the dialect of their village. "They speak nonsense, but I believe they mean well."

"Truly, sire?"

Viggo put a finger to her lips as he nodded. "Thank you, my lord," he said to Orlando.

"You are welcome and you are free, both of you. I do not keep slaves. As soon as it can be arranged, you shall have passage to your home."

"Why?" Viggo was driven to ask. "Why would you take an interest in the fate of a slave?"

"I would free all slaves were it in my power," Orlando said. "But I do what I can."

The governor had not really answered Viggo's question, but the Dane let it go. His good fortune was phenomenal and he did not wish to change his luck. "I am very grateful," he said. "And Miranda's family will be very glad to have her back."

Orlando glanced to where Miranda was devouring the remains of Viggo's meal. "I am sure they will. Johnny, will you call for more food, and pour some wine, if you'd be so good? Tell me, Viggo, who will be glad to see you come home?"

"I will not be returning just yet."

"Will you not?" Orlando accepted a goblet from Johnny. "Have you unfinished business?"

"I do." Viggo waved away the young governor's offer of wine. "Miranda is not the only one of my folk enslaved by Captain Rush and whoever his master is."

"I am sorry," Orlando said in French. "I cannot take the risk of freeing any more slaves."

"I do not ask it of you. If I have your word that you will arrange for Miranda to get home, I will go and never trouble you again."

Orlando looked across the room where Johnny offered a wedge of cheese to a suspicious Miranda. "How many languages do you speak, Viggo?" he asked casually in Portuguese.

Viggo looked startled for a moment before a slow smile curved his lips. "I answered you in the tongue of the Franks a moment ago," he said.

"Aye, you did. Sorry I tricked you. How is it that you are so well educated?"

"I am a curious fellow."

"And rather well traveled, I'll warrant," Orlando replied. "To return to an earlier inquiry: have you family back home?"

Viggo shook his head. "I've no entanglements."

"Then I wish to discuss possible employment for you."

"Have I your word that Miranda will come safely home?"

"You do," Orlando smiled, amused by the man's boldness.

"Then we have a bargain. Tell me what you wish me to do."

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"My dear Angelina, have you ever seen such a splendid specimen?"

"No, indeed, Katherine. I've never seen his like in any slave market, or anywhere else, for that matter. He's a veritable golden stallion."

Lady Bosworth and Mademoiselle Jolie drew closer to the fair-haired man chained to the auction platform. The slave's master had tethered him in the shade, and there was a bowl of clean water at hand, which spoke of his value, if the ladies could not see it with their eyes. For this golden man's charms were more than evident due to the brevity of his clothing. Aside from a length of royal blue fabric wound around his loins for modesty's sake, the Norseman was gloriously bare, his tanned skin tight and glowing over well-defined muscles. As he turned sideways to look at a fine horse being led past, the young women put their heads together and giggled.

"Good afternoon, beautiful ladies." A husky voice of indeterminate sex and vaguely Eastern in rhythm spoke above the noise of the traffic.

Kate and Angelina turned quickly, surprised someone had gotten so close without their being aware of it. A tall, willowy figure swathed in silk that veiled all but the kohl-rimmed eyes bowed low to the two women. A gaze as dark and inviting as sin beckoned the ladies closer.

"I can see that you are ladies of refinement and yet I also see that you are not tame house cats. You roam where you will, and do not cast down your eyes in the presence of men. Why should you? Have you not the same desires?"

"You are impertinent," Kate said.

"Forgive me if I offend, Madame."

"I'm not offended," Angelina smiled. "Are you a slave, or a slave-keeper?"

"I have the honor to be the mistress of the slave-keeper, my lady."

"Then tell me about this one," Angelina gestured toward the blond man.

"What can I say of him that would compare with the sight of him?" The Easterner called out to the slave. "Viggo! Show these ladies your muscles."

The Norseman obeyed, his chains clinking as he lunged and stretched as though fighting an invisible swordsman. Katie and Angelina whispered together and giggled again.

"Is he not fine?" the veiled figure asked, leaning between the noblewomen.

"The most perfect thing I've ever seen," Angelina sighed. "How I wish I had the price of him to spare."

"My uncle would die of apoplexy if I had such a servant in my house," Lady Bosworth said.

"Perhaps the ladies would be interested to know that it is possible to hire the services of this slave?"

"Hire?" Angelina raised one eyebrow. "How much?" A number was named and Mademoiselle Jolie smiled. "Acceptable. How is something like this arranged?"

"The man will be brought to a place of your choosing, lady."

"Katie?" Angelina appealed to her friend.

"Oh, very well, if you must." Katherine Bosworth smiled to show she was teasing and turned to the veiled exotic. "Have the Norseman brought to Bosworth House after dark."

"That will be a problem, lady. Bosworth House is behind the stockade."

"Bother, I forgot about martial law. I wish the Deity would consign those freebooters to perdition so decent folk could walk about without having to pass through checkpoints. I suppose you'd better come with us then."

"I cannot leave, but if Madame promises to return the slave by nightfall, we have a bargain."

"Is it not dangerous to let him go on his own?"

"Do not fear. Your servants can handle him easily. This one is simple; no more sense than a child of two summers. However, he is more than capable of satisfying a woman. Think of it: a man so biddable he will do whatever you ask of him."

"Very well," Katie said, signaling to her footman. She handed the silk-wrapped figure several coins and gestured to her servant to take charge of the slave.

A quarter of an hour later, Katherine Bosworth passed through the checkpoint to the compound with her friend and her purchases from the market. In less than half an hour, Viggo was inside the home of the wealthiest man in this remote corner of British-held territory. Sir Jason Isaacs was young Lady Bosworth's uncle by marriage and manager of her considerable fortune, a fortune he had parlayed into several. Isaacs had fortified one end of the biggest island in the chain, adding high walls to the existing palatial home and outbuildings, forbidding entry to any without invitation, or the proper identification. Even the new governor had to seek Isaacs' approval before being allowed within the gates, approval that was grudgingly given, if it all.

"I am no servant of the Crown," Sir Jason said loudly enough for the men waiting in the antechamber to hear. "I do not bow to tyrants on thrones half a world away."

In the waiting room, Orlando glanced at Johnny with a wry expression. "Remind me of why I wanted to come here so badly?"

"We suspect Sir Jason of being the mastermind behind the Black Market."

"Oh yes, that was it. Thank you, Johnny. You look particularly handsome today. The dress uniform suits you as though it were designed with you in mind."

"Pleased to hear Your Lordship's mind is on the priorities," Johnny answered, as a servant appeared in the tall doorway to lead them to their appointment.

Jason Isaacs looked up from a long table covered with documents and set down his pen. For a moment it seemed as though he would remain seated and Johnny prepared to remind the businessman of Governor Bloom's status in Port Prince Edward. Isaacs might rule like a king on this island, but he would acknowledge Orlando's authority, or Major Depp would teach him the error of disrespecting those who outranked him. Known for his unflappable demeanor, the only thing that made Johnny act rashly was insult to his master. His hand was on the hilt of his dress sword when Isaacs stood with a scraping of chair legs on marble.

"Lord Governor," Isaacs said, his upper lip curdling into something that passed for a smile of welcome. "Finally we meet."

Orlando refrained from mentioning that he'd issued a summons requesting Isaacs' presence in his office just days after arriving, or that he'd sent several subsequent messages implying that if Isaacs were too busy, the governor would come to him. "And well met, indeed," Orlando said cordially. "Allow me to compliment you on your excellent defenses."

"Kind of you to say so. Will you take some refreshment?"

"That would be most welcome. I do not know how you tolerate the heat. At least at the shore there is a constant breeze, but within these walls…"

"The Dutch have a cure. Come with me to the verandah where you may receive treatment."

"Marvelous. Major Depp, I have left that pouch in the carriage. If you would be so good?"

Isaacs called a servant to take Johnny to the stables, and moments later, Orlando was sitting in an exceedingly comfortable chair sipping a cool clear drink whose sharpness did indeed alleviate the effect of the heat. "I've not tasted gin before," he said. "Those that had the raising of me railed against it as a poison used to keep the numbers of the lower classes from growing too great."

"This is not London."

"But it is nominally England," Orlando said firmly.

"Let me be plain. I do not consider myself an English citizen."

"Yet you are happy enough to be under the protection of England's navy."

Isaacs' features twitched before he controlled himself. "Perhaps we might get to the reason for your visit?"

Orlando set down his glass, drawing out the moment as he leaned back in his chair, flipping the long tail of glossy hair back over his shoulder and adjusting the fall of lace at his wrists before he spoke. "I have brought with me certain papers that require your signature. It has been noted that in three years you have not paid one farthing of tax for the goods you trade in. The Crown demands that you pay your debt, or remove yourself from Crown lands."

"Well, at least you delivered the message like a man without dancing around it. As I do not consider myself under the rule of your sovereign, I do not consider that I owe any tariff for the business I conduct. As for Crown lands," Isaacs stood to his full impressive height. "You are on my property, and I make the law here."

Orlando relaxed even farther into his seat, looking up at Isaacs in mild surprise. "That's damned confusing, sir. I had heard that this was the property of your niece."

From the way's Isaacs' lips tightened, Orlando knew he'd scored another hit and one closer to the bulls-eye, but the man recovered quickly.

"A woman," Jason said dismissively. "As long as she has an adequate allowance, she cares not how her household is run, nor would she have the wit to manage it if she were interested."

"I understand the young lady is unmarried. Is she betrothed?"

For the first time in many years, Jason Isaacs felt the stirrings of uneasiness. "Surely that is a personal question."

Orlando smiled brightly. "My dear sir, forgive me if I presume on what I hope will become a very warm and long-standing friendship, or, dare I say, kinship?"

"So there is no Lady Governor?"

"I was betrothed at birth, but alas, my fiancée eloped with a dashing young fellow of the Royal Light Horse. The experience left me a trifle altar-shy; however, I am nearly five and twenty and it is time I had children to carry on my name."

"A fine ambition."

"Procreation is a duty," Orlando said primly, as he got to his feet. "Ah, here is Major Depp with those documents. Just leave them on the table, thank you, major. Now, Sir Jason, I shall cease to trouble you for the nonce, however, I will take the liberty of anticipating my formal invitation. In a week's time, I shall host a Governor's Grand Ball for the gentry. It would please me greatly if you would attend with your niece."

Isaacs bowed briefly. "I have no time for frivolity," he said. "And my niece is much occupied with her visiting friend, a French hoyden as feather-brained as she."

"Perhaps you will change your mind," Orlando picked up his hat. "Good day, Sir Jason."

"Good day to you, Lord Governor."

"Well?" Orlando said, as his carriage drove through the gates of Bosworth House.

Johnny lifted a gloved hand in salute to the soldiers on duty as he answered. "Sir Jason is most assuredly a traitor."

"I believe you. In fact, he as good as told me himself."

"His fortress is well-nigh impregnable."

"I was aware of that. It is the reason we resorted to subterfuge to gain entry, after all."

"As regards our ruse, milord, may I observe that you are a most charming sight when dressed as a fugitive from a harem?" Johnny smiled.

"I would rather you did not."

"Our Viking could hardly take his eyes from your girlish figure in all that silk." Johnny leaned toward the other man. "And you still have some kohl around your eyes."

Orlando sat still while Johnny wiped away the traces of black. "Oh dear, I wonder what Sir Jason must have thought of that."

"Exactly what you wanted him to think, I should imagine: that you are a silly, vain and spoiled young aristocrat promoted because of your family's wealth and standing."

"But I am a silly, vain spoiled aristocrat," Orlando pouted a little.

"If you say so, milord," Johnny murmured, turning his gaze back to the window. By the way, your cat's-paw is working like a charm."

"I thought it might. I was fairly certain they would take the lure, but after the little minxes lied to me about being able to afford Viggo, I knew they were hooked. I think Lady Bosworth and her pretty friend have some pirate blood in their veins."

"They certainly cannot be said to have a high moral fiber. It was plain from the conversation I overheard that the young ladies never had any intention of returning the handsome slave and that the slaver's mistress deserved the beating he would give her."

Orlando shuddered delicately. "Such compassion for the less fortunate. I put the fox in the henhouse by hinting I was in the market for a bride. You should have seen the expression on Isaacs' face. The prospect of losing control of his niece is not a pleasant one for him; he does not need her wealth any longer, but the deed to the land is in her name."

"You have an excellent eye for detail, milord."

"Why thank you, Johnny. Coming from you that is a high compliment indeed. You make me feel as though my bizarre scheme has some chance of success."

"Whatever happens, you will have made a difference."

Orlando was suddenly fascinated by the stitching on his gloves. "It is to be hoped," he brushed off the praise. "And there is still much to do before we may congratulate ourselves."

"Of course, milord." Johnny held his peace for the remainder of the journey, going over in his mind the preparations for the night's activities. It was his opinion that Orlando's presence was not necessary to the operation, but once His Lordship made up his mind, it was deucedly difficult to dissuade him. Johnny smiled; his master had the hardest head of anyone he'd ever met, but he also had the most gallant heart. If bravery and good intent could guarantee victory, they would have naught to worry about. As it was, Johnny grew ever more tense as the time approached. Though they had played this game with success before, they were far from the support of friendly forces and Johnny feared that those aligned against them were the worst they had yet seen.

Read Chapter Three of Bailey's Pearls Before Swine