Louisa Rawlings (14 page)

“Is she beautiful?”

“Yes. Very beautiful. Her hair is as black as night. Her eyes are green, like the waters offshore. She’s tall, slender. Her limbs are well formed, and she has beautiful hands.” He laughed softly. “
I
don’t like her very much. But I seem to be in the minority.”

She bowed her head.
I wish she was ugly
, she thought. Sweet Virgin, why did she keep seeing Lucien’s face as he bent over her? His eyes were a cold wall that she yearned to breach. Yet why should she care? She looked up at Martin. “He wasn’t
truly
a pirate. Lucien.”

“Yes, he was.”

“But when? Why?” she breathed. Until now, for all of Lucien’s ferocity, she’d never really believed it could be so.

Martin blushed beneath his tan. “It’s not a story I like to tell. But it’s how we met.” He sighed. “I see by your face that I’ll have to tell it, willy-nilly.” He turned his head away and leaned toward the fire. “I wonder if you know what men on a pirate ship are apt to do. Lonely men. Without women.”

She understood everything from his tone. “I’ve heard enough stories from the old mariners,” she said gently. “I’m sure it’s no more than what honest sailors are sometimes driven to do on long voyages.”

He looked at her. His handsome features were twisted in pain. “Perhaps not with the same savagery as pirates. They’re not concerned with asking permission. It strikes at the very core of a man, to think that he’s no more than…” He blushed again and fell silent, staring into the flames. At last he roused himself. “But you asked about Lucien. You deserve an answer. I’ve lived in Guadeloupe most of my life. My father was a shopkeeper there. Very successful. Some three years ago, knowing he was dying, he sold his shop and gathered his money together. He wanted to leave me and my mother something more than a shop.”

“An indigo plantation?”

“Yes. He’d already seen the land, knew it would be on the market soon. But we needed more capital to start up properly. I was given letters to his old friends. Bankers in France. The same ones, in point of fact, that I’ve just visited. On the journey out from the Indies, the ship was attacked by pirates. The crew fought bravely, but we were boarded, ransacked, set afire. I think all the men must have perished. I never learned of a one of them again. At dawn I found myself adrift on a piece of the mast. I saw a ship in the distance and waved to it. It wasn’t until it came close that I realized to my horror that it was the very pirate ship that had destroyed us. They hauled me aboard, half dead. A terrified lad, not even twenty. And as pretty as a girl. Or so they said.”

“Martin. Don’t.” She rose from her chair to stand beside him. She put her fingers against his lips. “Don’t.”

He kissed the tips of her fingers, then took her hand away. “What a good heart you have. Never fear. It’s not as shameful as you might think. It’s just painful to tell of it. The captain was an evil man, ruthless and cruel. But it was his first mate who made my blood run cold. A man who laughed at death, who seemed to court danger. Thin and gaunt, with a wild look in his eye, a gold ring in his ear, a scar across one cheek.”

“
Lucien?
”

“Yes.”

“And his hair…?”

“White at the temples. Like now. I don’t know how long he’d been a pirate. And he doesn’t speak of it. But he was in a position of importance on the ship, and the men seemed to fear him. In any event, I was the prize catch of the day. There was talk of… Sweet Jesu, this is difficult. Of drawing lots. They intended to throw me into the crew’s quarters, and draw lots for their turn. I remember thinking if I rushed the captain, I’d have the mercy of a swift death. Then Lucien spoke up. ‘
I
want him,’ he said. I remember the rest of the pirates mocked him; he’d never wanted a man before.”

“Martin, you don’t have to tell this.”

He laughed softly. “And if I don’t, you’ll only ask questions. The pirate captain—his name was Trescot, an Englishman, I believe—stepped into the quarrel between Lucien and the crew. I think he’d begun to fear Lucien, and saw the opportunity to rid himself of a rival. He agreed that Lucien could have me to himself until morning, if he was willing to fight for the privilege. Trescot pulled from the crew a savage giant; Lucien was to fight
him
.” He shook his head. “My God, I’ve never seen such a fight. Knives and cutlasses. And fists and every low trick that could be employed. They must have fought for a quarter of an hour. When it was done, the giant lay bleeding on the deck, breathing his last. Lucien, triumphant, tied a rope around my neck and dragged me to his cabin.”

“By Saint Sébastien, I should have been quaking in my shoes!”

“And so I was. Until Lucien announced—very calmly for a man who’d just killed another!—that he meant me no harm. That he intended to put me into a longboat and release me as soon as night fell. He’d tell Trescot that I’d escaped.”

“You were near land, then?”

“Only two days out from the Leewards. We climbed up on deck as soon as the moon had set, and began to ready the longboat. But, as luck would have it, Trescot himself surprised us. Thanks be to God, he didn’t immediately call for help. Lucien was very glib. He said I’d been taken with a weakness and needed a breath of air. The captain asked if Lucien had…had his pleasure of me. Lucien said no. Then Trescot said—I still remember how it chilled my blood—‘Share and share alike, mate.’ Then he claimed first rights, as the captain. Lucien consented at once.”

“But surely he wouldn’t…”

“I confess I was surprised that he agreed to it. Trescot had clearly meant to provoke him, to throw down the challenge. But Lucien said he’d take his turn when the captain was finished. Very humble, he was. And the two of them marched me down to Trescot’s quarters.” He laughed softly. “I must tell you that I’d begun at this point to protest noisily. You can understand my state of mind, I think. I wasn’t sure whether Lucien intended any longer to help me. And I didn’t plan to be a willing victim. At my outcry, however, Lucien pulled out his pistol, aimed it at me, and warned me to be still. Which I did. Out of fear of the man, and curiosity as to what he had in mind. Trescot, meaning to satisfy himself, came toward me. Lucien struck him senseless. Together we bound and gagged him. Realizing that his career as a pirate had come to an unexpected close, Lucien broke open Trescot’s sea chest and took his portion of the spoils. The captain by now had regained his wits. In case we should be pursued, we took him with us into the longboat, raised sail, and made for the islands. Still bound band and foot, Trescot cursed us for the entire journey. When Lucien reckoned we must be near enough to land for the captain to swim, we cut his bonds and put him over the side.”

“And Trescot swore to kill Lucien.”

“Yes. We made for the nearest island, and from there to Guadeloupe. Lucien would have taken his money and gone his way. But he’d saved my life. I felt I owed him a debt of gratitude. With my father’s permission, I invited him to be a partner in the plantation. I never regretted that choice. He seldom spoke of his past, but I could sense that his life of piracy had sickened his soul. And even before I learned of his birth and station, I knew he was a man of rare intelligence. And honor. A man whose friendship I prize.”

“And Captain Trescot?”

“I don’t know what happened to him. But the islands are close together. With many natural harbors. Easy enough for a man to slip ashore, if he were so minded. That first year I know that Trescot’s threat haunted Lucien, though he tried to put it out of his mind. He slept lightly. Woke startled. You saw it yourself in La Rochelle. I thought his fears had faded. But the voyage over revived all his old nightmares.” Martin shuddered. “I never saw such a band of cutthroats as were on that ship. Wild, desperate men, living a hellish life…”

Topaze gulped back her tears. “How did he get to it?” she whispered. “What could drive a man to a life like that?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a mocking laugh from the doorway. They looked up, startled. Lucien leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. He clucked his tongue in reproach. “By Satan’s beard, Martin, did you tell the chit that old story?”

Topaze moved to him and put a sympathetic hand on his arm. Her eyes were warm, glinting with the tears that refused to be checked. “Why? In the name of pity, why choose such a life?”

For a moment, she thought she’d touched him. A fleeting shadow seemed to pass over his countenance; a small muscle quivered in the corner of his eye. Then he shrugged, brushed off her hand, and swaggered into the room. “It seemed like an amusing thing to do at the time. Have you memorized all the names of the servants yet? I’d suggest you go to your room until suppertime, and apply yourself to your lessons.”

Supper was a strange affair. Martin, always uncomfortable with small talk, was even more quiet than usual. Topaze suspected that his story had brought back unpleasant memories. But Lucien had never been more charming, flattering Madame Le Sage, complimenting her on the fineness of her table, making her giggle like a maiden with humorous sallies and clever little witticisms.

Her brain still burning from the frightful story Martin had told, Topaze found it difficult to reconcile the man of the story—savage, ruthless, yet ultimately heroic—with the smiling man who played the court gallant with such insouciance, and discussed the merits of puddings as though there were no more important concerns in his head.
Who is he?
she thought in anguish.
What is he?

She went to bed early, leaving the men to sit and talk together in Martin’s room, their armchairs pulled up to the hearth.

But sleep would not come. Despite her exertions in the snow, she tossed—wide-eyed and restless—upon her large bed. Her brain whirled with confused thoughts, strange whispers of discontent that hovered just beyond her reach. She rose from the bed. She could hear the low murmur of the men’s voices from Martin’s room. Perhaps she’d fetch the chart of Grismoulins, study it in bed for a while until she was sleepy. She lit a candle on the night table, then padded—barefoot and clad only in her long chemise—into the passageway. The men’s voices were louder. They seemed to be talking of their plantation. The likelihood of a good crop. The hope of a fair summer. She pushed open the door.

Martin turned. “Name of God,” he said, laughing, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Isn’t your bed comfortable? Aunt Louise…”

“The bed is fine.”

“Then what is it?”

She wrinkled her brow in distress. “I don’t know. It never seems
warm
enough.”

Lucien snorted. “After that frosty room you shared with the Givets?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…the bed is so…lonely! We always slept together. It never seems comfortable here. It never seems right.”

Lucien’s mouth twisted in derision. “Lonely? By Lucifer, don’t look at
me
. I may be your husband on paper, but I can’t be troubled to crawl into bed with you to prove it.”

“Damn you, Lucien,” growled Martin. “Don’t be a bastard. You don’t have to talk to Topaze that way.”

Topaze refused to be daunted. She favored Lucien with a contemptuous glance. “I wouldn’t want to compromise your innocence,
husband
. I wasn’t suggesting any such arrangement. You asked why I was restless. I told you. Perhaps you should buy me a pup.” Her amber eyes flashed. “It would serve just as well as you.”

Martin smiled as Lucien looked uncomfortable. “Well said. And well deserved, my friend. If it will help, Topaze, come and sit on my lap until you get sleepy.”

He meant it only to be kind, she was sure. Still, it was a chance to twit Lucien once again. “I’m not sure my husband won’t be jealous, monsieur,” she said solemnly. “But I’ll chance it. I know he’d not bother to defend my honor. I’m not sure he’d bother to defend his own…unless there was a fat purse waiting.”

Lucien smiled, a tight grimace. “You do like the edge of danger,” he said softly. “By all means, sit on Martin’s lap. I’ll
try
not to feel envy.”

Tucking her chemise demurely about her legs, Topaze curled up on Martin’s lap and leaned her head against his chest. It
was
comforting, with his arms warmly enfolding her, his steady heartbeat murmuring beneath her ear. The men had resumed their conversation; the drone of their voices further lulled her. She sighed once, closed her eyes, and slept.

Chapter Nine

A log crackled in the fireplace. The clock on the mantel chimed. Lucien sighed. “Time for bed.”

Martin moved gently, shifting the sleeping Topaze on his lap. “The story, Lucien. That day…I… We never talk of it.”

“No need, my friend.”

“But you saved my honor that day. And my life.”

“And you saved mine. I looked into your honest face that day and saw what I had been. And was no more. It was like waking from a monstrous dream. But for you, how low might I have sunk?” He sighed again. “To bed. Is the girl still asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Can you carry her to her room?”

Martin grimaced. “My leg has gone numb. I fear it will collapse under me if I stand up.”

“Let me take her.” Lucien rose from his chair and slid his arms under the girl’s sleeping form. She twitched once as he straightened, then settled against his shirt. A slip of a girl. Light as a feather. “Good night, Martin,” he said.