The admiral made everyone laugh, "As we know only too well!"
"Indeed," Garrett grinned and revealing an unnatural talent for story telling, he went on to describe the subsequent battle. The men sat on the edge of their seats as Garrett told of a battle that lasted seven long hours: a battle of clever maneuvers and daring, the unmatched grace of his famous ship pitted against the enormous, cumbersome, and heavy monster that was the British warship.
Juliet collected her dazed senses to listen to the outrageous story, a story capturing the roomful of people as in ones and twos the uniformed men came over to hear better. Laughter erupted repeatedly as he made the English into the most inept bumbling fools—an idea that reflected the popular sentiment of his audience—and even the king tried to clear his drugged haze enough to grasp what had happened.
"So with the weight of two thousand newly made British muskets in my hull, I found myself asking who in the world will give me the best price." He looked at the admiral, who was already chuckling in anticipation of the ending of the story. "Your name came immediately to mind. I knew you would be interested in the captain's papers, indeed, Napoleon himself will be interested in where these guns were headed. I faced the question of where you might be, and as my luck would have it, I thought to begin my inquiries in Tangiers. Lo and behold, to our surprise . . . here you were."
Shaking his head and laughing, the admiral appeared stunned, overwhelmed by fate's turn of the cards, then imagining Napoleon's response when he presented the information and the prize. The imaginary scene made him laugh out loud as he raised his goblet with a sweep across the room. "Compatriots, to Garrett and The Raven, and to the benevolence of God who put him on our side!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the toast. Garrett chuckled as he leaned over to brush his lips on her cheek. She made herself smile, praying nothing gave them away. The story was still circulating the room amidst continuous laughter and amusement, Garrett's name replacing Napoleon's for the toasts, and just as Garrett and the admiral exchanged the first of vastly different ideas on how much the arms were worth, Kyle burst through the outer doors. Two armed guards escorted him as he rushed to their table. "Captain, Sir!"
Garrett came quickly to his feet. "Yes?" The admiral stood too, with several of his officers. Leif came to Garrett's side.
"We've been ambushed! In the dark of night, just beneath the nose of the night watch—a cannon shot dead center into the hull!"
Garrett looked stunned; for a long moment he appeared immobilized by the awful news until he exploded with a burst of fury. Juliet stopped herself from cowering. This was only an act, she pretended alarm too and rose to her feet at his side. Garrett swore as Kyle continued to explain, "... a longshore boat approached from the west end, none saw it until it was too late . . . fired directly into the hull and ripped the side with a four foot gash-"
"Mon Dieu!" the admiral gasped. "An act of sabotage?"
"Yes sir, nearly two feet of water in the hull ... All hands have been called, but it's chaos—"
"Leif, stay with Juliet," he said as he rushed through the great hall. There came a sudden rush of orders from the admiral as he followed Garrett from the room, calling three captains to call for all hands. The entire French presence in the court followed the admiral and Garrett.
Juliet did not have to pretend to look anxious as the men left. She sat perfectly still, looking at the wide double doors of the hall, and as she saw with sudden clarity what she would do her heart quickened. The birds settled in new positions and two squirrel monkeys approached to take advantage of the food left at their table. The king continued to smile at her as his eyelids drifted down, then up and down again in his state of blissful paradise. Leif took Garrett's place at her side. "Leif," she whispered, "I've got an idea—"
Now Leif, too, did not have to pretend to be alarmed.
Nearly an hour later Garrett and the admiral made their way back through the palace doors. A dozen or so French officers followed. The admiral still swore, furious over the idea that traitors were hidden somewhere in the fleet. Traitors! Mort Dieu, the guns had been destroyed by an act of high treason! Every last ensign would be accounted for, after a thorough search of the camps and ships, then interrogation proceedings would be initiated for all men who could not provide a public account of. their actions this night. "They will be found!" he swore. "Indeed," Garrett scowled, "and even after I personally head the firing squad, the loss will be mine." "Quite the contrary! It is France's loss after all." If only that were true, Garrett knew. As they stepped into the brightly lit hall, Garrett immediately spotted Juliet at the table by Leifs side. A dark brow lifted. A consummate actress indeed.She looked so pale and shaken, as though she were in a state of acute distress. Surrounded by his men, the king, too, seemed to be watching Juliet with concern.
Juliet waited until the large party of men had almost reached the table. Timing was everything, she knew. Taking a deep breath and pretending she just saw them, she jumped to her feet and flew to Garrett. "Oh, Garrett!" The men stopped as she fell into Garrett's arms. Garrett held her as she lifted on her tiptoes, pressing herself full against him. A hard shock went through his body and for one sweet savage moment he fought hard for control as he stared down at her lovely upturned face with confusion. Anxiety marked her features, worry appeared in her eyes as breathlessly she cried, "Oh, Garrett! What does it mean? What happened?"
She created the very picture of feminine distress. Not a man watching could possibly remain immune, least of all Garrett, and he searched her face before glancing at Leif as if for an explanation. Yet Leif would not meet his eye. "What's wrong, Juliet?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? Oh, Garrett, you promised me! Leif says it will take days to repair the boat. And you promised me you'd take me back tomorrow! I can't be away any longer . . . you know I cant!"
Garrett froze, just froze. To his raging amazement, tears appeared—as if by magic—in her lovely eyes. What the hell was she doing? Oh God, not another—
"If I'm not back within the fortnight, something terrible will happen ... I just know it. ... She needs me so desperately. Oh please, Garrett, please if you love me at all, you'll fix the boat by tomorrow—"
For the first time in the whole of his life Garrett was speechless. Not a man there, neither the admirals nor his officers, not the king or his men could look away, much as politeness bid them to do just that. The admiral was remembering the day he left Anna, while the king attempted to clear his bliss enough to understand the source of Juliet's distress, at least long enough to banish it.
Juliet's song played the same tune to the roomful of men. She was so obviously concerned about someone dear to her, perhaps someone Garrett took her away from. How touching and amusing too, the naivete of a woman's mind! To call one of the greatest ships sailing the seas a boat! The way she imagined Garrett might run out in the dark dead of night to fix his "boat" for her. More than one man turned his head to hide his amusement.
"Love," Garrett knew only the confusion of the blind, another worthwhile lesson in life, if only he managed to survive this scenario, whatever the hell it was. "I don't think you understand—"
"Who is she worried about?" the king demanded to know, as his mind turned much slower than the others but finally arrived at the point.
Juliet turned toward him, carefully keeping her eyes lowered as she nervously wrung a handkerchief in her hands. "My cousin, Your Highness . . . oh, her affliction is too, too terrible to speak of in public." A delicate hand went to her breast; she looked suddenly frightened. "But I just can't bear the thought of what will befall her if my return is delayed. . . . She needs me so desperately, I'm her only comfort. Oh, Garrett, please, you must—"
"That's quite enough, Juliet," he said meaningfully. "I've explained—"
Yet King Tallihasi held his hand up for silence. "Fix the boat immediately!"
The room laughed at his joke, less for the humor than for the source, no one having ever heard the
king joke before. Only Garrett and the admiral refrained, neither having the inclination, for as the admiral listened to Gar rett explain rather angrily why it was impossible, as he stared at those large tear-filled blue eyes, the upturned face, that very same hair, he remembered promising to return soon to Anna—a promise, like Garrett's, he knew he'd not fulfill
"Nonsense, Garrett," he interrupted in a soft voice, as he returned to the captain at his side. "Call all hands. See that The Raven is seaworthy by morning's first light."
The captain snapped to attention. "But Admiral—"
"You heard me, Captain. First light."
"Yes sir."
The captain called three others and they promptly left the company. Juliet dropped to a curtsy before the admiral who then helped her up. She closed her eyes as the admiral kissed her forehead. She heard Garrett's voice say she had had enough excitement for one evening, then ask Leif to escort her to his room. The king's mind turned in absurd circles, circles that made it impossible to know if the problem had been solved. Consulting his nearest minister, he asked, "Is she happy now?"
"Yes, Your Highness. There are tears of gladness in her eyes."
"Ah, it is good."
Leif overheard the remark and bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud, being one of the three people in the room who knew exactly how good it was.
Juliet did not dare look at Leif as four guards escorted them through a maze of halls to finally stop at the end of one wide darkened hall. She kept a bent knuckle in her mouth, using it as a cork to contain her laughter and excitement. A number of women waited outside the double doors, dropping to the floor in crouched positions as they approached. Two guards stepped forward to open the doors. Appearing impassive, Leif motioned them back as he stepped inside with Juliet, then quickly shut the door behind them.
Their laughter burst in a joyous song of excitement as Leif threw open his arms to receive her. He swung her around and around, finally settling her back to her feet. "How does it feel to have just single-handedly saved the British empire, young lady?"
She laughed, burying her head in Leif s shoulder. "I just cant believe it worked ... I just cant believe it!" "You could believe it had you been watching D'Ville-neuve's face as you threw yourself at Garrett. I half expected him to start crying too. But when you asked Garrett to fix the boat, I nearly died trying to stop from laughing out loud!" The mere thought made him throw his head back wit more merriment knowing he'd remember the amused condescension of those of his sex with laughter the rest of his days. "Fix the boat, Garrett" indeed! And the king! He woke from his stupor the minute you started crying—"
Yes, but what she wanted to know was "What did Garrett think? I was so nervous, I couldn't tell. I didn't dare look at him, I mean really look—"
"Garrett! I swear that is the slowest I've ever seen his mind work. I don't think he actually caught on until you called his ship a boat and asked him to fix it for you, please," Leif laughed again. "He knows you're too good a sailor now to mistake his ship for a boat. Then he just stared at you as if thinking I cannot believe she is doing this. . . . But Juliet, Juliet," he took her arms for emphasis, "Garrett's face changed the moment the admiral ordered the ship repaired for tomorrow's light." He lovingly brushed a callused hand across her cheek, adding softly, "I felt his pride cross the distance."
"Really? Oh do you truly think so?"
Leif nodded, touched by how important Garrett's thoughts were becoming to her, even if she didn't fully realize it yet. Juliet smiled and clapped her hands together, spinning round in a happy circle like a jig, but she stopped as she came to see the room for the first time.
"Mon Dieu," came as a reverent gasp, all she could manage as her gaze swept the magnificent room. A smaller glass dome arched over the tall ceiling. Stars shone bright just behind. Flaming torches lined the white unadorned walls: golden firelight danced with shadows across the space. An enormous canopied bed covered the back of the room, lined with satin pillows and comforters. She stepped to it, reaching a hand first over the sheer silk drapes of the canopy then over the blue satin comforter. Plants filled one whole corner where the sound of running water rose. She raced across the marble floor to find herself staring into a darkened pool, steam rising from its depths.
"Like Bath," Leif said, "the palace here was built over hot mineral springs. Many of the rooms have them." Acknowledging her wonder with a smile, he turned to leave. "I have to go now. I think those women outside have gifts for you. Shall I send them in?"
Starring distractedly, she nodded. "Leif . . . Leif," she whispered, "will Garrett ..." Of course Garrett would sleep here too. After all, they were supposed to be married. She had slept in the room with him for nearly a month. Why would it scare her now?
"Yes?"
"When . . . when do you think Garrett will be back?"
"Not for awhile. He still has to present the admiral with those captain's papers and I know he'll want to oversee some of the repairs. An hour or two at least."
"Oh ..." she said to herself, not hearing Leif s goodbye or noticing that he left and four women entered. A telling giggle interrupted the quiet, signaling the descent of four women on her person. She backed up but they quickly surrounded her. "Oh! No, I don't think-"
Juliet tried first French, then English, but they only laughed as a pair of hands went to the buttons on her gown, another to her hair, while the third and forth displayed a choice of three nightgowns of their country. The gowns were made of sheer silk: bodices of gold, pale blue, or green, all light, transparent, nothing but gold-trimmed silk on strings really. The gowns, she noticed with alarm, were not made to keep one warm on chilly winter nights. . . .
"Oh no, I don't think so-"
Juliet's gown dropped to the floor. So intent was she on delivering herself from the fate of any one of those gowns that she failed to notice the women's veils suddenly went back up. Frantic French and flinging arms failed to stop the four smiling women from removing her slippers and stockings. She finally gave up, submitting as they peeled away her chemise, having no idea of their intent but supposing it was a present of sorts. Once unclad, the women helped her onto a white silk pallet. A lovely song in a haunting patois of Spanish and Arabic replaced the laughter. Another woman took the pins from her hair and put a brush to her long trail of hair. The other two began to bathe her skin in rose-scented water, then a more subtle blend of scented oil: roses and . . . lilacs. At first she lay perfectly still, acutely aware and uncertain of the strange feeling brought by these impersonal hands on her, but as time passed she slipped into a languid stupor, deepening with the strokes of their hands.
Waiting for the culmination of the night's magic, Garrett knew his desire created her loveliness. Magic was the best, the only explanation of the effect of Juliet's presence in King Tallihasi's court tonight. A most powerful magic, for she had altered an unpleasant future; she had changed the world. The entire night he felt the force of its pull joining her to him, building toward the culmination, escalating, becoming more powerful as the moon rose in the star-filled night until just sitting near her had become a maddening battle of control, an inexpressible agony that had made him transport himself into the not-too-distant future over and over again. A future that at 'last was now.
Juliet fell into a trancelike state of the deepest relaxation. At first no thoughts interrupted this peace, but gradually her thoughts centered on the haunting melody of the lovely song. The lullaby triggered memories of days long ago until the image of her mother and the admiral emerged in her mind's eye.
Did she truly look like her mother? She always thought of her mother as being so terribly beautiful. How strange ...As she had grown, she began to see a strange sadness, a thing felt rather than seen those many times when her mother caught a man admiring her. As if beneath an acknowledging smile lay a troubling thought ... a sadness or regret or even . . . contempt.
Contempt? She tried to make sense of the feeling. Once her mother said, "Most men n
ever search beneath appearances, which is why a woman's beauty becomes so important. The trick, my darling, is in finding a man who seeks out and touches the deepest part of your heart. . . ."
The deepest part of her heart . . . The thought made her think of Garrett, how he always sought the deepest part of everything. So many times Garrett probed one question deeper to find the heart of an issue or to lead someone ever closer to a meaningful truth. Whether it was looking at little beasties beneath the scope or at the universe with the telescope, whether he was discussing philosophy or helping Leif understand why Leif felt such animosity toward his newest son-in-law, Garrett always traveled toward the greater truth. The characteristic revealed itself in all things, even silly things, like when Garrett explained to a roomful of bellowing men why they thought a joke was so amusing, only to have the explanation be far more poignant, more bone-ticklingly humorous, than the original joke. Yes, in everything Garrett always found that level of meaning, deeper than thought, that holds the truth.
Yet this was true of everything and everyone but herself, for she had given that deepest part of her heart to Tomas, and it was Tomas who cherished it, her, the hopes and dreams of their future. No, Tomas was not the man Garrett was—who could be?—but just as Tomas loved the deepest part of her, she loved the deepest part of him too —
"Who do you belong to?"
The question sounded so loudly in her mind as to cause a quick tensing one meaningful second before Garrett clapped his hands and dismissed the women for the evening in Arabic. The sky blue silk gown dropped over her back as they made a quiet exit. All peace dissipated the moment she heard his voice and she sat up, careful to hold the silk gown over herself.
Garrett sat on the bed, his long legs stretched in front of him, a half-eaten pear in his hand. He wore only black breeches, that was all, his clothes were nowhere in sight. "Garrett," his name came in a whisper as she tried to meet his gaze. A dangerous thing, for she felt his gaze penetrate her being and her heart, triggering its sudden unnatural pounding. "How . . . how long have you been here?"
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