Journey of the Wind
Page 32
men they had seen running toward L’endroit Sûr. When they saw Gaston being carried
into the house, the women began to wail.
Louis flinched at the keening sound coming from Gaston’s wife and daughter. He
was winded and was leaning against the porch railing, sweat pouring down his face.
He was too out of shape for such strenuous exercise as he’d gotten that day and his
chest was tight. He would have fallen had not a strong, sturdy arm gripped him about
the waist.
“Steady, ye old bastard,” Antoinette growled. She took his weight against her. “Ye
be too old to go fartin’ around like this. Let’s get ye in the house a’fore ye pitch over.”
The sound of thundering hooves brought Louis’ head up and he sighed with relief
when he saw Andre. “Tell him,” he whispered to Antoinette, “tell him they’re bringing
her and for him to stay put.”
Antoinette’s mouth sagged open as Andre slid heavily off his horse, hitting the
ground to the accompaniment of a bone breaking. She shook her head as she led Louis
toward the steps. “He ain’t gonna be no help.”
Louis craned his neck to watch Andre being helped to his feet, his right arm
hanging at a strange angle. “Tell ‘em to bring him on inside,” he told Antoinette.
“Tell him this. Tell them that,” Antoinette complained. “Just shut the fuck up,
Corsair. Ye ain’t running this here show!”
Andre was grimacing from the pain in his broken forearm and ribs as he cursed the
men surrounding him. “Get away from me!” he ordered. “Where’s my lady?”
“Bring his arse in the house,” Antoinette told the men. “His brother done ordered
it.”
Though he spat at them and tried to strike out with his good arm, Andre found
himself being hustled up his own steps and into the cool interior of the house. The smell
of death hung heavily in the air and he got a glimpse of Gaston’s body lying on the
dining room table with his womenfolk standing over him. Louis was already in the
room, sitting sprawled in one of the fancy damask chairs.
“Where’s Rylee?” Andre asked.
“The Anlusian is bringing her,” Louis said. Antoinette had gone to fetch a cool rag
to wipe his sweaty face.
Andre refused to sit down, snarling at the men to leave him alone. He staggered
over to Louis. “Is she all right? Did they hurt her?”
Louis’ head was on the back of the chair, his eyes closed. He opened them to give
Andre a tired look. “She’s alive, lad, but you’d best prepare yourself. They raped her
and she was bleeding badly when I left there.”
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Andre seemed to deflate like a balloon and he stumbled, the backs of his knees
hitting the edge of the loveseat and he plopped down, grunting as pain rocketed up
through his shoulder. “Louis, no,” he said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Don’t ye start blubbering like a spoiled child what’s had its candy taken from it,
Andre Corsair,” Antoinette snapped as she came into the room. She went over to Louis
and began to gently wipe his flushed face. “She ain’t the first woman what’s been
attacked and she won’t be the last. Ye need to be steady for her, man. She’ll need yer
strength.”
“Who took her?” Andre asked, using the back of his left hand to swipe away the
tears.
“The Mocks, Prescott and Rouyce,” Louis replied. “They’re dead. I doubt me there’s
enough left of Ethan Mock to bury. He was chopped up that bad.”
“I don’t care,” Andre said, his jaw tight. “I want their bodies strung up on the town
square for every man jack to see. Skewer what’s left of Mock on a shark hook and let
him hang there for the crows.”
Louis shrugged. “Suit yourself, but if it’s a warning you’re intending to give, there
ain’t no need. Once the men hear of what happened in that cave, won’t no man even
give your lady a first look, much less a second.”
“What happened?” Antoinette asked.
Louis shuddered hard, apparently seeing again the scene in the cave. “He
slaughtered them, bébé,” he said in a low voice. “Slashed them to shreds, he did. Four
men to his one but he mowed through them like a high demon on Judgment Day.” He
met Andre’s eyes. “Seeing him like that, Andi, I ain’t so sure you could take him in a
duel, fair or otherwise.”
“Farrell?” Andre asked.
Louis nodded. “He was a killing machine, son. A pitiless killing machine. I’ve never
seen anything like it and hope I never do again.”
There was a sound of heavy footsteps on the veranda. Andre got up in time to see a
man he didn’t know holding the screen door open as Alsandair came in carrying a limp
Rylee in his arms. Behind him was Healer Darcy.
“Up the stairs,” the healer said. He waddled in front of Alsandair and struggled to
get his corpulent bulk from step to step, his loud wheezing breaking the silence that had
fallen on L’endroit Sûr. Renaud and Kyle Striker came into the house but made no move
to go up the stairs after the men.
“Stay here, Andi,” Antoinette ordered when Andre started to go after them. “Darcy
will send him out of there too.” She tossed the wet rag onto Louis’ lap and pushed past
Andre, hiking her skirts as she agilely climbed the stairs.
“Do as she says, son,” Louis agreed. “There’s nothing you can do right now. She
needs another woman with her.”
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Holding his broken arm tight against his belly with his other hand, Andre walked
to the parlor doorway but went no farther. Alsandair was coming down the stairs, his
clothing splattered with blood, his face pale and pinched. His gaze went to Kyle then
slid past him to latch onto Andre.
“Are you hurt?” Andre asked.
“It’s not my blood,” Alsandair said. He turned, walked between Renaud and Kyle,
and pushed the screen door open. He sat down heavily on the top step and buried his
face in his hands, mindless of the crowd who had gathered in front of the house.
Andre felt the weight of his guilt to the very depths of his soul. “If I’d left her with
him—”
“Stow that kind of talk before you even start with it, Andre,” Louis snarled. “If
anyone’s to blame, it’s me. If I hadn’t sent for you, you would have been here to protect
her. They would never have had the guts to go up against you.”
“It could have happened any time, Louis,” Renaud said. “They would have waited
for another chance.”
Andre stood there for a moment looking up the stairs—apparently trying to make a
decision—then headed for the front door. When he came out on the porch, he told those
gathered to go home. “I know you’re here to support us but we need the peace and
quiet,” he stated. “I’ll send word about our lady.”
Alsandair raised his head and looked up at Andre.
Without a murmur, the men touched their caps in respect, the women curtseyed to
Andre and then they began walking off quietly.
“Your people fear you,” Alsandair said as Andre sat down on the step beside him.
“Aye, but it wasn’t fear that brought them here,” Andre replied.
“Rylee is one of
them.”
They were quiet for a long while, each lost in morbid thought. Another storm was
brewing out on the water and the wind was whipping up, blowing their dark hair and
cooling the heat from their bodies. The low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.
“Is it broken?” Alsandair asked, lowering his hands to his thighs. He stared blindly
out across the yard.
“Aye and it hurts like a motherfucker,” Andre reported.
“I know how that feels,” Alsandair said. “I broke my arm when I was boy. Hurt
worse when they set it though.”
“Oh that’s encouraging,” Andre complained. “I’ve never broken anything before
now.”
Alsandair turned to look at Andre. “How the hell did you do it?”
Andre let out an exasperated breath. “Fell off the damned fucking horse,” he said.
“You’re supposed to ride a horse, Corsair, not fuck it,” Alsandair quipped.
Andre glared at him. “Thank you for clarifying that for me, Farrell,” he returned.
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“Think nothing of it. Someone should have told you long ago. I thought you might
have fallen out of the bunk.”
“Bunks I can handle, even in a hurricane,” Andre said. “Horses are a different
matter, but now that I know what I’m supposed to do with one, I should be all right in
the future.” He raked his left hand through his hair. “Gods-be-damned tenerse. I could
barely put one foot before the other much less dismount the horse.”
They were silent again as the wind increased in strength. The rumbling had become
almost constant and now and again a flash of lightning would light the sky.
“She hates storms,” Andre said.
“I know that. Mayhap the healer will give her something to knock her out,”
Alsandair said. “I hope to the gods he does.”
Andre drew in a long breath. “Was she hurt that badly?”
“Bad enough,” Alsandair said. He hung his head. “One of the bastards sodomized
her.”
Andre squeezed his eyes shut at that news.
The screen door opened and the men turned to look around. Healer Darcy was
standing there, a grim look on his face. “She wants to see you,” he said.
“Which one?” Andre asked as both men got to their feet.
“Both of you,” the healer said. He looked pointedly at Andre’s arm. “That needs
setting.”
“It can wait,” Andre said.
“Then go on up but be quick about it. The longer you wait, the more damage can be
done to your arm, Captain Corsair.” He looked at Alsandair. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Alsandair replied. “Did you give her something to put her out?”
The healer shook his head. “She wouldn’t let me.”
“Make it up,” Alsandair said. “I’ll get her to take it. Turnaround is fair play.”
The two men went into the house with Andre leading the way up the stairs. He
grunted with every step, the bones in his arm grating against one another, his ribs
aching like the very devil. Behind them, the healer struggled once more up the twisting
staircase.
Antoinette was sitting on the bed beside Rylee and when the men came into the
room, she heaved her bulk up and moved aside.
“Sandair!” Rylee called out, holding her arms up to him. Her bruised face twisted
with relief.
Alsandair hurried to her, sitting down to take her into his arms, his right hand
cradling her head against his shoulders. She had been unconscious the entire time he
had carried her from the cave to the house and now that he could feel her breath against
his cheek, her heart beating against his, he could relax a little.
“I’m here, sweeting,” he said, unaware he was crying. “I’m right here.”
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Rylee looked past his shoulder to see Andre watching her from the doorway. She
extended her hand toward him. “Andi,” she said, her voice breaking, “I need you too.”
Andre didn’t hesitate, he came to the bed and took her left hand in his.
“Please,” she said, looking from one man to other. “Please don’t leave me, either of
you.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Andre assured her.
Alsandair could feel Andre right beside him, could feel the man’s hip against his
back. Rylee was trembling violently.
“I’ve her medicine,” the healer said.
“No,” Rylee whimpered. “I don’t want—”
Alsandair eased her back from him—breaking the contact between her and
Andre—and looked down into her pale face. “You need to rest, sweeting.”
“They might come back, Sandy. They might—”
“The men who hurt you are dead,” Andre interrupted her. “Your husband saw to
that.”
The healer brought a tumbler to the bed, holding it out for Alsandair.
“I want you to drink this,” Alsandair said.
Rylee was trembling violently, her eyes wild as she stared into Alsandair’s. “You
won’t leave me?”
“Never,” he said, and put the rim of the tumbler to her lips. When she’d taken the
medicine, he pushed her down to the mattress gently. “I’ll be right here until you
wake.”
“Lay down with me,” she said. “Protect me.”
He nodded and she moved over in the bed so he could stretch out on his side beside
her. As soon as his head was on the pillow, she pressed tightly against him and his arms
wound firmly around her.
Andre Corsair looked as though his heart would break and he turned away to leave
the room.
“Andi!” Rylee shouted.
He turned. “What, bébé?”
“Don’t go,” she said. “Stay with me.” She held her hand out to him again.
Andre came around to the other side of the bed and sat down on the edge of the
mattress. He had positioned himself so he could take her right hand with his left,
wrapping his fingers over and under hers.
“I need you,” Rylee told him. She was looking around at him. “I need you too.”
“I’m here, precious,” he said.
“Close to me,” she said, tugging him toward her.
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Andre looked from her tearful face to Alsandair and something passed between the
two men at that moment. He saw Alsandair’s eyes narrowed with hurt but Andre knew
it wasn’t the other man’s personal hurt but hurt he was feeling for his lady, for their
lady. When Alsandair nodded almost imperceptibly, Andre brought his legs up on the
bed and lay down facing Rylee, her hand still clasped in his.
“Andi is hurt, Rylee,” Antoinette said. “His arm is broken. It needs settin’.”
“It can wait,” Andre said. Rylee’s eyes were glazing from the tenerse. “When she’s
sleeping, I—”
“Don’t leave me!” Rylee protested. “Andi, don’t leave me!”
“Bébé, I won’t,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”
“Beside me,” she said, her words beginning to slur.
“Right beside you,” Andre agreed.
“Andi and I will be like two slices of bread and you the ham,” Alsandair said, and
winked sadly at Andre.
“I’m not a pig,” Rylee said, and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to keep the
open.
“You’re our little piglet,” Andre said. His gaze was locked with Alsandair’s. “Mine
and Sandy’s.”
“Piglet,” Rylee said then sighed deeply. She wriggled her read end against Andre
and went out like a light.
“Captain, your arm—”
“Set it where I lay, Darcy, or leave it off,” Andre said. “I am not moving.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “You are a stubborn man,” he pronounced.
Andre looked down at the woman lying asleep beside him. “Aye, so I’ve been
told,” he said softly.
“At least sit up so I can get your shirt off you,” the healer said, stepping up to the
bed. “Toni, give me a pair of scissors.”
With the healer’s help, Andre sat up.
After unbuttoning the pirate captain’s shirt, the healer cut off the shirtsleeve of the
injured arm then helped Andre out of his shirt. Gingerly he examined Andre’s arm,
proclaiming he believed it was a clean break then manipulated the broken bone,
making sure the break was aligned properly. He splinted the bone with two pieces of
wood and wrapped it tightly with strips of flannel to keep it immobile.
“I may have to put a cast on it,” he said. “We’ll see.”
During the entire procedure, Andre sat there with sweat popping out all over his
face but he didn’t make any sound at all until the healer and Antoinette had left the
room.
“Fuck!” Andre said, letting out a long, explosive breath as he lay back down.
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“I told you it would hurt,” Alsandair said with a grin. “My advice to you—since the
healer didn’t say it—is to wiggle your fingers as much as you can. It will help the
circulation and keep the swelling down.”
Andre tried that and it made his arm hurt worse. Grinding his teeth, he closed his
eyes. “I don’t make a good patient.”
A loud skirl of lightning peeled across the firmament and both men jumped though
Rylee continued to sleep on unaffected by the noise and the rain that suddenly began
lashing at the windows. The boom that followed shook the windowpanes.
“I am sweating like a racehorse,” Alsandair said.
“Then get the hell up and take off your shirt, man,” Andre told him. “You stink
anyway.”
“That’s you that you smell, Corsair,” Alsandair grumbled as he eased his arm out
from beneath Rylee and scooted off the bed. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he looked