Captive by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

going on five years old, came hurtling into his arms. “Daddy!” she shrieked happily.
    He lifted her up into his arms, held her tenderly against him. Her little heart beat quickly; she was warm and vital and alive. She smelled sweetly of Tara’s perfume. Nothing was as precious to him in all the world now as his daughter. She was all he had left. She had lived with Tara and Jarrett since her mother and sister had died, and she did so with the full understanding that he couldn’t always be with her. She was so very grown up for her age.
    He held her still, but at arm’s length, studying her. She had a beautiful face, slim, golden. Her eyes weren’t his blue but her mother’s beautiful hazel, a shade of green and brown that sometimes seemed to haze together into a magnificent amber. She had pitch black hair that waved and curled to her waist, and she was dressed today like the most elegant of little white children. Tara made beautiful clothing for her, and showered love and attention on her.
Poor thing!
he thought suddenly,
what have I done to her?
For she was now a part of both worlds just as he was, torn between them, aching for them both, as he had always done.
    “Jennifer, you are ravishing!” He hugged her close tohim again, looking at his sister-in-law over his daughter’s shoulder.
Thank you
, he mouthed.
    “Daddy, you are ravishing, too,” Jennifer told him solemnly, taking his face between her chubby hands. “So handsome and formidable. Wickedly dangerous. Absolutely de-
lect
-albe!”
    Startled that such words should come out of a mouth so young, he looked at Tara, who was blushing furiously. “Well,” she murmured uncomfortably, “you do create quite a stir. Chloe, the Smithsons’ daughter, was here to tea the other day with her cousin, Jemma Same.”
    “And?” he demanded, baffled.
    “Well, they’re young. Impressionable. They think of you as a noble …”
    “Savage?” he supplied.
    “James—”
    “It’s all right. So, my daughter is parroting their words.”
    She was silent a moment. “You are … an appealing man, James. I’ve told you that often enough.”
    “And you are the one and only pale creature I find appealing, Tara. Alas, you’re married to my brother. Spare me from your friends who are entranced with the idea of a wickedly noble savage, will you?”
    “That’s not really it at all—”
    “Oh, Tara, I have been at enough of your parties. I have had numerous offers from supposedly innocent women, young and old, for comfort in my time of grief. It’s amazing how those offers come when I am decked out in European finery. If these same women were to come across an Indian village and find me fighting in the heat along with others dressed in breech clouts, I doubt they’d be so eager.”
    “You might be surprised,” Tara mused softly.
    “Ah, yes! Then bring on the fathers of these illustrious maidens. See what they would have to say about their daughters forming liaisons with a half-breed.”
    “You are not so prejudiced as you pretend. I have heard rumors regarding a few of your liaisons.”
    He shook his head, setting Jennifer down and telling her, “See Othello there?” He indicated his tall bay horse. “Catch his reins and walk him to the greener grass, sweetheart.” Jennifer smiled broadly, thrilled with the adult task. James watched his daughter hurry on, then turned to his sister-in-law. “Tara, I am a bruised and bitter man. There is nothing I have done with anyone since Naomi that might be considered a liaison, and I am very careful where I take solace at all, for I’ve nothing to give of myself. Your giggling young friends both amuse and annoy, for they are so bold to come forward, so eager to whisper and sigh. But watch their fathers come into the room, and see how fast they run. I am too hardened to be entertainment for any woman, white, red, or black—or as you once told me—zebra-striped.”
    “Well, I am having a party tomorrow night, good