Heart and Dagger

by Holland Rae

  So it didn’t matter that he didn’t know why she begged his forgiveness. It could have been her unladylike behavior, could have been her sharp tongue from their very first encounter, could have been the very fact that she had run from the life they could have led together, if only he’d been there. It didn’t matter. Not when it came to Charlotte. Not even when it came to Catalina.

  “You’re avoiding my question.” He didn’t like how raw his emotions were, as they crept into his mind and through his veins. Perhaps it had been too long since he’d remembered as well. “How did you get here?”

  “I’ll tell if you tell,” she said, that devilish twinkle in her eyes betraying none of the strength and control Armand knew she was built of.

  “I’ve nothing to hide,” he said. “But ladies first.”

  At that, she truly did laugh, and poured herself another glass of brandy from the decanter on the table between them. “No one has called me a lady in a long time.”

  So the wench enjoyed wearing britches and playing vigilante sea captain. Why would that affect him? It should have no effect. None.

  “Very well. I snuck aboard the Sweet Lady when I was eighteen years old, the day before my wedding. I spent four days in the hold of the ship, living only on the rations I had managed to bring along and trying to devise a plan to eventually make myself known to the crew. I knew I couldn’t remain below deck for the whole trip. Hell, I didn’t even know where the ship was headed.”

  He felt his stomach roil. What if something had happened to her during the time she lived below the deck? What if one of the crewmembers had mishandled her or treated her ill? Armand knew he would never be able to forgive himself for that. But Catalina was talking again, and he turned his attention back toward her.

  “The captain found me,” she said quietly. “Dwyer himself stumbled upon me huddling in a corner of the hull, hungry, tired, and scared.”

  Despite himself, Armand was enthralled. “What did he do?” he asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. Obviously, her story hadn’t ended the way most tales of stowaway women on ships did.

  She smiled nostalgically, and this smile was not fraught with the sadness of her other memories. “He offered me a choice. He said he would either throw me overboard, or I could earn my keep as a cabin boy.”

  Armand laughed. “That doesn’t seem like much of a choice.”

  She shook her head. “He was testing me, wanted to see if I’d be any good as a crewmember. Women have certain skills men don’t. Oftentimes, it’s easier for us to climb into smaller places or tie different knots. He actually gave me a chance, and for that, I’ll be forever in his debt.” She drank deeply from her glass and took a breath.

  “As it goes, I performed my duties. Did my job as cabin boy, then crewmember. Worked through all the chores and challenges that came my way. Before I knew it, two years had passed, and I’d become his second mate.” She played with the large necklace that rested against her skin, drawing attention to the curves and shadows and valleys below.

  “One night, Dwyer took me aside. He said that he knew it was my destiny to do more than man a ship. He said that one day he thought I could run one myself. Then he made me an offer.”

  At this Armand raised an eyebrow, but she quelled him with a single look.

  “He said he had a trade shipment that would take two ships to sail, and would I like to captain the Starling on our trip from Boston to Hispaniola? In return, and if he felt I was ready, he could provide me with enough scratch to buy it.”

  “I take it you kept your dowry secret, then?”

  Catalina shook her head.

  “It’s only since the death of my father and because of Eliza’s kindness that I’ve had access to any of the funds from the estate. Whilst a second mate, I truly was penniless, working for my meal. It made me think about the poor, and the differences between us. Going to bed each night with dirty hands and tired muscles helped me to realize I never belonged as a lady in London. Coupled with the knowledge of what young girls are forced to do—wed strangers, live isolated lives, often times much, much worse—well, it set me upon a path. We sailed to the islands, and when we returned, Dwyer held up his end of the deal, so I set about purchasing the ship.”

  Armand placed his glass down upon the table.

  “You actually got crewmembers to agree to board a lady captain’s vessel?” he asked, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice. “I must admit, I am impressed.”

  She poured them both another glass of brandy. “My first crewmembers were down and out sailors who couldn’t find work. They wouldn’t have batted an eye if I had been a gentleman captain who enjoyed wearing garters. They just wanted the work. That was how it all began. From there, I began taking in those who needed refuge. There are far too many orphans who run the beaches and port cities, and I offered them work. Those who had sailed taught anyone who came aboard how to help, and before long we were taking to the high seas, trading and shipping goods—the first traveling charity house, if you will.”

  He laughed at that, and through her smile, Catalina continued her story.

  “Soon, I began to realize there were too many orphans to feed aboard the ship. There were too many women with children out of wedlock, who could not be expected to sail for many months. I knew I needed to make a change. Around that time, I met Antonia. She had run from the shores of Italy, just as I had done from my own engagement, and from there we developed a plan for Dwyer House, named for the man who gave me the chance to make it possible. And now here we are.” She motioned the room around her, a hint of sarcasm peppering her movements.

  “Your turn,” she said, casting an eye upon Armand, which he was sure had been the reason behind her success as a fearless sea captain. “How did you end up the small-town magistrate of a rock in the middle of the ocean?”

  He pursed his lips. Her question was no more personal than his, and yet, the answer required delving deeply into a past he thought he had all but locked up for good.

  But damn it all to hell, he couldn’t seem to say no to her, not this night, when everything seemed tinged with candlelight and spicy brandy and the ghosts of their past, for the first time in years. Perhaps it was her company, an old friend. Perhaps it was her smile. Perhaps it was best if he never thought about why he felt so comfortable around her ever again. Instead, Armand took a deep breath.

  “So our ship was boarded by pirates. After the whole vessel had burned—and I tried not to watch it burn—” He could picture the day in his mind as if it were projected before him. He had tried so desperately to look away, but his mother…His throat seized just a fraction, and he took another deep breath. “Eventually we were rescued, but the trade ship was bound for the Americas and would only drop us at the next port, many, many miles from where we had been bound—Great Inagua.”

  She nodded, clearly recognizing the name.

  “While there, my father grew very ill. He had never been the sort of man to hold high to the delicate situations, and my mother’s illness, the pirates, the fire, her death, all became too much for him.

  “We stayed upon the island for many weeks, sending note to my mother’s family that we would not be arriving home. Henri thought it best if we made ourselves a more permanent fixture, as a way of showing optimism to our ailing father. For want of something to do, I began assisting the local magistrate’s office in matters of security and strategy. Staying by my father’s bedside as he withered before my eyes, so soon after my mother had passed, was not an activity I could countenance day in and day out. So I made myself known around the community, and when the old magistrate passed away, it was only natural that I take up his post. It was little different from my work helping to run the estate in London, and I liked that it kept me busy.”

  “And then your father died,” she said quietly, her voice as sad as if she had lost both of her own parents in such a short time. Of course, Armand realized, she had practically been raised by his family, as well as
her own. “You must have been devastated.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then poured himself another drink.

  “He never fully recovered from the loss of my mother,” Armand said quietly, thinking back to those fateful weeks with a heavy heart. It had been far too long since he had remembered his parents properly, and he knew guilt still peppered his sorrow. “We watched him for months before he finally succumbed to the illness, but since arriving upon the island, he had never quite returned to himself.”

  She had curled herself upon the chair and was leaning against the arm. For a moment, Armand was reminded of a cat, one of the large jungle cats he had seen in his mother’s home country. She was sweet and soft when it suited her, and dangerous and wildly powerful when the world called upon her to be.

  The thought was far more frightening than it ought to have been.

  “But you never returned home,” she said. Armand stood from the chair, for something to do, something other than rehashing the past, other than catching her sad, knowing eyes, other than following the long lines of her thighs, as she curled into herself.

  “I was a coward,” he said fiercely, his voice filled with dark self-admonishment. “I didn’t want the title, and I didn’t want the responsibility. Staying on the island was comfortable, and for a little while, Henri and I simply bided our time, pretending to ourselves, and each other, that we would be returning home, to one of our homes, at some point in the future. There were heirs in India, but the matter of the estates in France and England were large and complex. I was seventeen. Henri was just thirteen.”

  He walked over to the bookshelf beside her desk and began absently looking at their spines, as he continued his story.

  “We never left. The island became the place where we buried our father. Soon after, we placed a headstone for our mother as well. Day after day, we made excuses to remain there. The weather would turn. We wouldn’t want to enter back into society so soon. I realize now my brother was hardly old enough to make those choices, and how much he relied upon me to do so properly. But I was barely more than a child myself, and I did what I thought was right at the time.” Up until quite recently, Armand had still believed it to be right, had continued to enjoy his home in the islands, continued to run his estates by proxy. Every quarter he would receive the accounts of the two estates, but stewards ran them in his stead, and as such his responsibility was limited. Up until now, that felt right. It felt acceptable.

  But Charlotte, Catalina, had reminded him of that life he had left behind, when he decided to hide away in the islands. He’d spent more of his life hiding from it, than ever actually living it.

  Deep in the throes of self-admonishment, Armand noticed something from the corner of his eye. It was a folded letter lying upon the desk. The edges were frayed, and the parchment was nearly white, clearly kept in a dark place for a long time. No matter, he would recognize his own handwriting, even with as many years that had passed, from anywhere.

  His eyes scanned the page, eventually turning to the date in the upper corner and Armand felt a wash of sadness through his whole self, followed by a remarkable and unwelcome stab of guilt.

  “I never wrote again,” he said after a moment. She had turned to look at him, and her eyes held a surprisingly innocent expression, one he hadn’t seen in nearly ten long years.

  “No,” Catalina said. “You never wrote again.” For some reason, the forgiveness in her voice was the most damning thing of all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Whatever demons they had been fighting in the other seemed to disappear below the surface, as they continued their journey to the cove where, according to their reformed pirates, Henri was being held. Their friendship truly had been forged the night before in her cabin, when they had spilled their pasts and their fears in stilted but honest conversation. It was nowhere near the friendship of their childhood, tentative and new as it was, but it was real and strong, and Catalina felt a fierce relief to manage that at all. Everything would change once they reached Henri, but knowing she and Armand had established a solid foundation on which to live their days, was a victory indeed.

  Sometimes, she allowed her mind to wander, as the waves pulled them across the sea. What would it have been like to marry to the brooding man who stood at the bow most days and held a powerful command with such ease? Armand was a subtle force. Controlled and fierce, and undeniably handsome, with his dark stubble against his dark skin, gold-brown eyes reflecting like the corals of the ocean. He was tall and his shoulders were broad, and try as Catalina might, she had a devil of time keeping herself from staring at the sway of his back when he pitched in with the crew, the cresting of muscles as his arms bulged against his linen shirts.

  She reasoned with herself that the attraction was nothing stronger than a combustible mixture of nostalgia and loneliness. Recalling the days of their youth left her feeling safe and comfortable in his presence, and she was becoming increasingly aware of how she spent her nights—alone. If she had been kidnapped by pirate forces, her own dear sister wouldn’t know of the event for many months to come. Catalina had no doubt her crew would make every effort to find her, but when the past comes throttling forcefully in your direction, it can be difficult to dodge.

  Still, their friendship was amicable, almost easy. Though it remained a fragile sort of thing, she had little doubt of its truth. This wasn’t the rekindling of an old relationship. This was the building of a brand-new one, made not from the children they had been in London, but the people they had become in the years since. Catalina was finding she rather liked this Armand. He was dry, sardonic, and witty, but truly brilliant. There was no doubt in her mind he would have run his estates like the best of them. Still, she knew equally as well he loved his work as both a magistrate and a trader—running rums, silks, and spices all across the world, not, incidentally, unlike herself, but without the army of orphans, thieves, and escaped brides.

  They jested of their roles in the world, how neither of them had become what had been expected of them. They even managed a fleeting fantasy or two, about the world, had it been different, about what they might do in the future. Neither of them spoke of Henri, or what might await them ahead. Neither of them acknowledged that they had no future together. Aware as Catalina was of her own loneliness, she knew her crew and her families and her orphans would love and welcome her the moment she asked, before she even asked. If Armand lost his brother, after losing everyone else, he would truly be alone in the world. The thought tugged tightly upon her heart, and she buried it deep down, afraid of further analysis.

  And so the days passed, with repartee and banter, with memories and jokes. They were careful to avoid exposing the truth of who she was, but by God, it felt good to remember Charlotte Talbot again. For all she had renounced the life of that lady of society, those had been eighteen years of her own story. To erase it entirely had always been an effort, and the very acknowledgement of whom she had once been felt like fresh water washing over her after a month at sea.

  So, three days after their shared evening in her dining room, when the crew pulled out their pennywhistles and mandolins for a night of dancing upon calm seas, Catalina asked Armand if he would care to join her for a pint of ale at the festivities. She owed him that much, she had said. Just one pint. To her surprise, and likely to his own, he had agreed without pause, and they soon found themselves settled at one corner of the deck, watching the clinking mugs, as the crew began to grow rowdy around them.

  “If you returned to London now, you could likely drink half the gentlemen under the table,” Armand said to her, as they drew more ale into their mugs from a barrel by the mast.

  Catalina raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing upon her lips. “Only half?” She hadn’t been in society long before escaping into the night, but she seemed to recall ballrooms filled to the brim with drunken gentry.

  He gave her an appraising look. “I have yet to experience the extent of your skill,” he tol
d her with a grin that made Catalina’s breath catch. Surely, it must be against some maritime agreement for a man to be so damnably good-looking, and so completely the wrong sort of man at the same time.

  “Then I suppose I’ll just have to show you,” she said, turning her eyes on him. She had been told on more than one occasion that her eyes were transfixing. Why she wanted to transfix Armand, Catalina couldn’t be sure. Perhaps she wanted to make him feel a modicum of what he seemed to be doing to her. That was the only rational explanation.

  Truly, she had become a wild woman, in the years since leaving London. Once upon a time, a glass of champagne would have been enough to have her stumbling up to her chambers. Now, however, she could throw back pints of ale until the day that the sun rose in the west and set in the east.

  Armand signaled for more ale, and they clinked their full mugs together. Catalina tried to suppress a laugh, but it came out anyway, a muffled, ridiculous sound between her half-closed lips.

  “I thought you could hold your ale better than that,” Armand said, one dark eyebrow sliding toward his sleek hair. Truly, if ever there were a man that was beautiful, in all senses of the word, it was him.

  “I’m not drunk,” she told him. “And I have no plans to be.” The eyebrow rose still further. “It’s just—well, I suppose I haven’t had much fun in a while.”

  The expression in Armand’s eyes was far too knowing, far too understanding, for Catalina’s comfort. Instead, she busied herself looking over to the motley crew of musicians, now arranging for a small performance at the far end of the deck.

  “I haven’t either,” Armand said, after a moment had passed, and there was a raw truth to his voice that stung Catalina down to the very soul she was sure she had forsaken a long time ago. “Had fun, that is.”