Flurtayshus
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2001
- Posts
- 318
AFRICA'S ENGLISH ROSE (closed)
PROLOGUE
The Gold Coast of South Africa, Ghana, 1774
Cape Coast Castle Region
Kaya jerked awake, the pain from a stinging slap still fresh on her cheek, only to be the recipient of another blow.
She cried out, her arms flailing at her silent attacker. Two strong hands gripped her wrists and bit into them tightly.
“I’m sorry Kaya. But you must get up!” The low voice was edged with panic. “Get your things!”
Fighting the grogginess of sleep, Kaya struggled up off the dirt floor of her sleeping quarters and grabbed for her tattered everyday clothing, only to have her hand slapped.
“Not those!” The looming figure pointed at the chest that held the British clothing of her father. “Those!”
Disoriented, she rushed to do as she was told. Almost as soon as the hem cleared her knees, she was shoved through the doorway and into the white blazing light of day.
Kaya blinked rapidly and her eyes watered adjusting to the abrupt change.
“Hurry Kaya! We must run.” Kaya turned and realized the slapping hands had been those of her sixteen year old cousin, Sufi.
“Sufi?” She asked bewildered. “What’s wrong?”
Sufi growled his frustration. She was going to get them both killed if he didn’t get her out of here. He tied the little bundle he’d been able to gather of her things, to his front and then squatted down to her level.
Kaya shied away. She could tell something was wrong now. The look on Sufi’s face was similar to the look he’d given her the night her mother had died.
He caught her before she could turn and run.
“Listen to me. Your father is here. We must get to him before Mama Buhle gets to him. Do you understand?”
At the mere mention of her father, Kaya brightened. “Papa?”
Sufi gave her an admonishing look for having spoken in English but relented and answered her in English. “Yes. Papa. Now climb on.”
Kaya did as she was told and climbed onto Sufi’s brown back. The minute she was on, he was up and running.
Sufi ran as fast as his lean legs would carry him. His breath wheezed in and out of his lungs and one thought propelled him forward. He HAD to get to his little cousin to her father, before they could get to him. If he did that, she would be safe.
Sufi had been dozing near the coastline avoiding his chores for the day when he’d heard Mama Buhle and her followers. Crouching behind an abandoned building he’d heard them plot against his cousin’s natural father and how if he didn’t cooperate with their plan that they would kill his cousin.
After everything Kaya had been through, Sufi knew he just couldn’t allow it to happen.
Plaster homes, wooden booths and crowds of people passed in a blur but as he neared Main Street his breathing became more labored. Running by himself was no problem at all, but running with his 10 year old cousin on his back had sapped him of energy. He stopped briefly and set her down.
“We’re almost there!” He panted and then grabbed her hand.
Sufi drug her along through the crowded streets toward the shore path. The steps carved out of stone would lead them down to the boats where Mr. Worthington would be supervising the loading of supplies.
They were half way down the stairs almost in shouting distance of Kaya’s father when they heard the booming voice of a woman shout down over them.
“TRAITOR!!” Mama Buhle roared with anger and sent three of her men down the staircase after them.
“Run Kaya!” Sufi shoved Kaya forward across the sand.
A crowd of white men turned around at the commotion and standing in the center was the tallest most distinguished man with a head of thick blonde hair and sparking green eyes.
Recognition dawned in his eyes as Kaya sped toward him, her caramel skin glowing in the South African sun.
“Is that my baby girl?” He shouted with laughter, kneeling down, ready to scoop her up as soon as she was close enough.
Sufi shoved her into his arms.
“You take her! You take her or she’ll be dead like her mother.” He ordered viciously.
The smile immediately dropped from Wesley Worthington’s face. “What do you mean?!”
PROLOGUE
The Gold Coast of South Africa, Ghana, 1774
Cape Coast Castle Region
Kaya jerked awake, the pain from a stinging slap still fresh on her cheek, only to be the recipient of another blow.
She cried out, her arms flailing at her silent attacker. Two strong hands gripped her wrists and bit into them tightly.
“I’m sorry Kaya. But you must get up!” The low voice was edged with panic. “Get your things!”
Fighting the grogginess of sleep, Kaya struggled up off the dirt floor of her sleeping quarters and grabbed for her tattered everyday clothing, only to have her hand slapped.
“Not those!” The looming figure pointed at the chest that held the British clothing of her father. “Those!”
Disoriented, she rushed to do as she was told. Almost as soon as the hem cleared her knees, she was shoved through the doorway and into the white blazing light of day.
Kaya blinked rapidly and her eyes watered adjusting to the abrupt change.
“Hurry Kaya! We must run.” Kaya turned and realized the slapping hands had been those of her sixteen year old cousin, Sufi.
“Sufi?” She asked bewildered. “What’s wrong?”
Sufi growled his frustration. She was going to get them both killed if he didn’t get her out of here. He tied the little bundle he’d been able to gather of her things, to his front and then squatted down to her level.
Kaya shied away. She could tell something was wrong now. The look on Sufi’s face was similar to the look he’d given her the night her mother had died.
He caught her before she could turn and run.
“Listen to me. Your father is here. We must get to him before Mama Buhle gets to him. Do you understand?”
At the mere mention of her father, Kaya brightened. “Papa?”
Sufi gave her an admonishing look for having spoken in English but relented and answered her in English. “Yes. Papa. Now climb on.”
Kaya did as she was told and climbed onto Sufi’s brown back. The minute she was on, he was up and running.
Sufi ran as fast as his lean legs would carry him. His breath wheezed in and out of his lungs and one thought propelled him forward. He HAD to get to his little cousin to her father, before they could get to him. If he did that, she would be safe.
Sufi had been dozing near the coastline avoiding his chores for the day when he’d heard Mama Buhle and her followers. Crouching behind an abandoned building he’d heard them plot against his cousin’s natural father and how if he didn’t cooperate with their plan that they would kill his cousin.
After everything Kaya had been through, Sufi knew he just couldn’t allow it to happen.
Plaster homes, wooden booths and crowds of people passed in a blur but as he neared Main Street his breathing became more labored. Running by himself was no problem at all, but running with his 10 year old cousin on his back had sapped him of energy. He stopped briefly and set her down.
“We’re almost there!” He panted and then grabbed her hand.
Sufi drug her along through the crowded streets toward the shore path. The steps carved out of stone would lead them down to the boats where Mr. Worthington would be supervising the loading of supplies.
They were half way down the stairs almost in shouting distance of Kaya’s father when they heard the booming voice of a woman shout down over them.
“TRAITOR!!” Mama Buhle roared with anger and sent three of her men down the staircase after them.
“Run Kaya!” Sufi shoved Kaya forward across the sand.
A crowd of white men turned around at the commotion and standing in the center was the tallest most distinguished man with a head of thick blonde hair and sparking green eyes.
Recognition dawned in his eyes as Kaya sped toward him, her caramel skin glowing in the South African sun.
“Is that my baby girl?” He shouted with laughter, kneeling down, ready to scoop her up as soon as she was close enough.
Sufi shoved her into his arms.
“You take her! You take her or she’ll be dead like her mother.” He ordered viciously.
The smile immediately dropped from Wesley Worthington’s face. “What do you mean?!”
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