“You fiend!” she choked. “Take your hand from me. Baret Buckington will see you hang for this!”
She saw several French pirates loitering in the shadows of the porch, all armed and dangerous looking and drinking rum. They walked forward and took turns bowing elaborately as Emerald was hauled down and set upon her feet. A chorus of appreciative ahs greeted her until the front door opened and Captain Rafael Levasseur stepped out.
“You sound like English dogs! Bring Demoiselle in here!”
So it was Rafael! she thought angrily, yet with growing fear. What would cause him to take such a bold risk as to come to Foxemoore on the very eve of her betrothal to Baret? And with Baret at the Great House!
The French pirates stepped aside as Emerald, not daring to show Rafael how afraid she was, evoked the old feisty manner she knew he expected. She flounced toward him, hands on hips.
“You French dog!”
Rafael was tall and vigorous. His handsome swarthy face wore a haughty and dangerous smile. His shoulder-length black periwig was waved meticulously beneath a plumed purple hat, which he did not remove as he raked her with his gaze.
“So, mon petite cousin, you have betrayed me, your own blood, to marry Foxworth. Ah, so you think, mon cherie. But it will not be.” He walked toward her, his black eyes snapping. “You and I have much to discuss.” His wiry hand latched hold of her arm and yanked her toward him.
Emerald’s other hand darted like an adder and slapped his smirking face.
“You dare touch me?”
His lip twitched. He snatched her against him in a crushing embrace, and his lips took hers possessively.
She twisted her head away. “No, Rafael, let go!”
“Ah, yes, Demoiselle, but only for a time.”
He released her abruptly and did not smile. His eyes were slits beneath his dark brows. “Do not mock me again. Do not tell me no. Do not make me angry.”
“You are spoiled and arrogant. And by kissing me thus you have written your own doom. Captain Foxworth is a very jealous man. And while he behaves the viscount tonight, do not forget his manner on Tortuga. The Brotherhood knows well what he can do.”
He laughed merrily. “Yes, so you admit the viscount is a pirate.”
“I admit nothing.”
“He and I are not so different, Mademoiselle. It is only that Foxworth can hide behind a title. And I? I flaunt my daring rapier in the name of the king of France.”
He swept back his hat and looked down at her with a bold challenge. “And you, my cousin, are of my blood, not his.” His restless black eyes darted over her. “I’ve heard how you took the vow tonight, but you will toss it to the wind. Vows mean nothing to me. You are a Levasseur. You have my blood, and, as I have told you before, you are destined to be mine.”
Emerald’s gaze narrowed. “I never told you I cared for you. I never even thought—”
“Thought? It does not matter what you thought. It is what I think. Always I have said you would be mine. And our fate has not changed. Do you think you shall be received by English dogs in London as a countess? They shall mock you at every bow, scorn you with every wink of the eye! You are a fool to marry a Buckington! You will not be happy.” His thin lips tightened.
“I love Baret, and I will marry him after he returns from sailing with Morgan.”
“Mon petite, do not goad. I am in no mood for patience.”
“So! That’s why you come like a villain, abducting me from my own betrothal, daring to treat me with scorn. You feel you must insult my betrothal. Very well, you have done so with your ill-bred manners and your tongue you use so well. Now, go! Leave me forever!”
He lifted a hand dripping with silver lace and rings to his ruffled chest. “Ah, cherie, how you pain poor Rafael’s loving heart. No, no, Mademoiselle! You will come with me—of your own free will you will come.”
“Of my own will?” She forced a careless laugh, hoping to unsteady his confidence. Anything to drag out the time, in hope that Baret would learn she was missing. “Never. I have vowed to Baret tonight before God. There it stays, till death do us part.”
“Do not tempt me. How easy to put a rapier through his heart.”
“Easy? Was it easy at Tortuga?”
“Tortuga was no fair duel, my cousin. I was ill with fever, and no one knew it. My pride would not relent, and my gallantry forced me to fight him. I was not at my best, but, ah, I am now ready. I have practiced for months. I now know all the ways of the Spaniards and the English dogs.”
So. This was not the quick, rash decision for which he was known. He had been planning this action for some time.
“Rafael, be sensible. There are many women who love you. We shall part friends. As cousins. I cannot go with you. I will not go of my own will.”
His teeth showed beneath his narrow mustache. “We shall see, Demoiselle.”
What did he mean? She backed away. “Where is Ty? Have you done anything to him?”
“Ty? My French cousin? Would I betray a brother who wishes to sail with me?”
“Sail with you? He wouldn’t!”
“Ah, but he is safe aboard the Venture now, where he wishes to be. And you will come with us to Margarita.”
Margarita—the island of pearls, the island where the treasure of the Prince Philip was said to be hidden.
“So that’s it,” she scoffed, almost relieved that his motivation was merely the rebirth of greed. “You think I know where the treasure of the Prince Philip is hidden. You think Captain Buckington told me?”
“Oui, he told you. And Uncle Karl ton knows where it is, too. He will not talk, and so I shall have you there to make sure he tells me all.”
She sobered. He knew where her father was?
“You’re wrong. I wouldn’t betray Baret and tell you, if I knew. That treasure is needed to bring to His Majesty—to prove the innocence of his father.”
“There is more waiting near Margarita, mon cherie, much more. And if you wish to see your father alive, you will cooperate. There will be no more squabbling like a squawking hen. As I say, you will come willingly.”
She watched him, cautious now. “What about my father?”
He smiled and, sweeping off his hat, bowed. “I have him a prisoner, Mademoiselle Emerald. A cunning, sweet move on my part, yes?”
Rafael couldn’t have him. It was another lie like the one Lord Felix had flung at her at the hacienda in Spanish Town, telling her Baret had been taken to Cadiz as a religious prisoner for the Inquisitors.
“Do you think I’m foolish enough to believe you?”
“No, I shall prove I have him at my mercy. He was betrayed by Jasper and Felix to the captain of the Dutch slave ship bound for Cartagena. I was privy to it all, Mademoiselle. Ah, yes, I admit it. And I intercepted that ship, outsmarting your Monsieur Fox-worth. I lay in wait for the vessel and attacked with grand skill. I sank her to the bottom of the Caribbean. The slaves I took as booty and sold them on St. Kitts. And your father? Ah! My sweet, he is my prisoner—even as Don Miguel Vasquez is Foxworth’s prisoner. Am I not clever, Mademoiselle?”
He laughed. “And what do I ask in return for his release?” His eyes flashed, and he took firm hold of her arm and escorted her into the manor. “From you I demand a renunciation of your betrothal to Foxworth. You will sit down tonight and write him. You will tell him your godly conscience burns with regret that you lied to him but that you lie no longer. You love me, Rafael Levasseur, yes! And with the letter you will leave here the Buckington ring for Cousin Minette to find and bring sadly to him.”
“You beast!”
He gave an airy gesture and a mock sigh. “My regrets, Mademoiselle, but alas, what can I do when you are so foolish as to think you will choose him?”
Then his eyes glittered like hard stones. “And from Fox-worth there is one thing more I wish. I care nothing for the dog who is king of England. The treasure of the Prince Philip is to be divided as we signed articles aboard his ship. Remember,
Mademoiselle? You were there, yes? Remember how he willingly signed the articles with me and with Monsieur Farrow? Those articles are in my possession now. Foxworth will come to the South Cays of Cuba to rendezvous with Morgan. He will keep his bargain with me there, or he will live to regret his black treachery.”
Emerald sank weakly into a chair, gripping its arms, staring up into his determined face. He meant it. Every word of it.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a letter.
“From Monsieur Karlton to you. Proof, mon petite, that I do not lie. Proof that you will leave with me tonight—willingly. You will tell Monsieur Foxworth that Rafael Levasseur does not abduct you. You walk freely beside me to my ship.”
Emerald’s shaking hand grasped the letter. Yes, the handwriting on the envelope belonged to her father.
Rafael smiled.
She opened it with shaking fingers and read. As she did, her heart died slowly.
Dear Daughter Emerald,
Rafael took the Dutch slave ship with great loss of life to those aboard. I am now his prisoner. He will not let me write more except to tell you he will leave me for the Spaniards unless you sail with him aboard the Venture.
Your loving father,
Karlton Harwick
Emerald’s hand lowered to her lap. She stared defeatedly at the letter.
“Mon cherie, do not grieve. He will live. And you will live. You see, I have the command this time. And what is your decision? Will you come with me?”
She knew Rafael would think little of leaving her father to the guarda costa if she refused him. There was only one hope, as she saw it. She would cooperate now in order to insure her father’s safety. After that, she would hope and pray that Baret would not believe her letter and would confront Levasseur at Morgan’s rendezvous.
But would he? He had vowed his love tonight, but what if his pride was so injured that he refused to rescue her? What if he believed her letter?
She shuddered, thinking of Sir Jasper at the hacienda and how for a time that Baret had suspected her of wrong. He believed in her now, but if she hurt him again—if again he thought she had betrayed him … and he had already been suspicious of something’s being between her and Rafael.
Her trembling fingers touched the ruby pendant, and she bit back the tears. How could anything so vile as this happen to her on the very night of her betrothal?
“Well, Cousin Emerald? Do you write the letter to Monsieur Foxworth, or will you see your father abandoned to the guarda costa?”
“I will write it,” she choked bitterly, “but you will pay for this despicable deed, Rafael.”
He indicated a table where a sheet of parchment, pen, and inkwell waited.
“A wise decision. I will tell you what to write.” He strode to the table and quickly gestured for her to come.
She stood and slowly walked to the table and sat down.
“Good, my sweet. Quickly, quickly.”
After agonizing minutes, Emerald signed her name to the letter, then let the pen fall to the table. Head in hand, she sat there as a teardrop splotched the paper.
“No matter now, mon petite. You will soon love me when you are my bride. Up!”
She stood wearily, and he snatched the letter, laughed with satisfaction as he read it, then folded it. “The Buckington ring.” He held out his hand.
She turned her back, retrieved it, and then hesitated.
“The ring. Come, come.” And he made a clucking sound for her to hurry.
Angrily she slapped it onto his palm.
He held it up for inspection. “C’etait magnifique! If it were not better to leave it for him to see, I would take it as my own. Alas.”
With regret, he dropped the ring inside the envelope.
“Where is Zeddie? What have you done with him?”
“Pierre has him safely. He will come with us. Do you think I want him running to Foxworth before I reach the rendezvous?”
At least Zeddie was safe for the present, she thought, and there was some consolation in knowing he would be aboard the pirate ship with her, though she doubted she would be able to see him.
Then Emerald remembered something, and her breath paused. She gave Rafael a side glance, but he was busy. She touched the ruby pendant. Rafael did not know that Baret had given it to her. She thought of its meaning. Since she was not returning the pendant, would Baret then know that the letter was insincere? Her hopes spiraled upward like incense. Yes, he would know! And he would come for her. Her beloved would come!
Rafael sealed the letter with wax and propped it against a book on the table to be readily seen by Minette when she came to look for Emerald.
“Never mind your things,” he said happily. “There is all you will need aboard the Venture. I have made careful and ample provision for this time.”
“I will never marry you.”
He arched his black brows. “No? You had best pray we do, Mademoiselle, for you will be mine.” He caught her arm and strode with her toward the front door. “We leave now. Our horses are in back. Philippe! Pierre!” he shouted out the door. “Quickly!”
Unable to locate Jette in the garden, Baret climbed the wall and entered Carlotta’s room to discover that she was gone. He made a quick survey of her possessions and gathered what he’d expected all along—that she’d managed to escape, was on her way to rendezvous with Jasper, and Felix was unaware. But Carlotta, at the moment, was the least of his concerns. Where was Jette?
He returned to the terrace. Emerald was not where he had left her. At first thinking she might be waltzing with his grandfather or one of the other gentlemen, he scanned the floor with its dancing couples until it became obvious she was not among the guests. He checked her room. She was not there.
Back in the ballroom, Baret casually glanced about to see if Felix looked suspicious. But he was conversing with Governor Modyford, still undoubtedly trying to get him to change his mind about giving the buccaneers commissions against Spain’s shipping.
Baret ignored the curious gaze of Lavender, who was waltzing with Grayford.
Minette had not seen Emerald since the ceremony.
“Could she have gone to her room?” Erik asked.
“No, I went there.”
Minette frowned. “Maybe she found out Jette wasn’t in the garden. Him and the twins like to go to the manor house and play hide and seek, and maybe she went looking for him. Shall I go see, m’lord?”
Baret had already considered that. He wasn’t satisfied. Something was amiss.
“She wouldn’t have walked,” he said. “Her buggy is parked in the carriageway. And Zeddie isn’t there. No one has seen him all evening.”
Erik’s alert gaze met his as he followed Baret’s line of thinking. “Carlotta hasn’t shown up tonight.”
Baret’s wordless glance was enough to warn Erik to silence. He was to do nothing to cause Minette to display alarm to any who might be watching, especially Felix.
Erik seemed to know what to do. He took Minette’s arm. “We’ll make another search through the garden,” he told Baret and led her away as though casually interested in little more than visiting the refreshment table, followed by a stroll for a breath of evening air.
Baret was turning to leave when Lavender walked up, smiling sweetly. Grayford wasn’t with her. She laid her fan on his arm.
“I should at least have one waltz with the viscount on the eve of his betrothal.”
He was on the verge of refusing, anxious to search for Emerald and Jette when her low voice said, “Are you looking for Emerald?”
His eyes searched hers and saw no resentment there, only a flicker of strange curiosity.
He obliged her with the waltz, noting that Felix turned to look toward them. Then his gaze left them abruptly. Had he sensed something was wrong?
As they waltzed, Lavender pretended to smile and chat, but her words were anything but casual.
“I saw her leave soon after Henry delivered her a message.
She looked concerned.”
“Which way did she go?”
“Through the parlor. Then the garden, I think. And Baret—before the betrothal, I saw someone arrive by way of the back garden. There were four or five men I’ve never seen before. They certainly weren’t planters or friends of the governor. They looked French, with rather foppish and arrogant behavior—”
“Frenchmen?”
“Yes, I—”
Baret took firm hold of her elbow and propelled her across the floor as though they were walking in agreement toward the parlor.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He drew her into the outer hall and, once alone, turned her loose but held her gaze steadily. “Do me well this once, for what we meant to each other?”
Her eyes misted. “Baret, I—”
“No, Lavender. I’m in love with Emerald. There can never be anyone else. I need you to do something for me. Will you?”
She lowered her gaze with resignation and slowly nodded. “Yes, of course, I will.”
“Waltz with Felix. Keep him busy for the next hour. Don’t breathe a word of what you told me to anyone until this night is over.”
Anxiously she searched his eyes, then nodded. “All right. I promise.”
He gave her a look of silent affection, as he might give a sister, then was gone out onto the terrace and down the steps.
Lavender stood looking after him, her heart swelling with pain. But unlike so many other times in her life when loss prompted her to manipulate to regain what had slipped through her fingers, she could see that none of her schemes would touch him—Baret had made up his mind.
Two weeks ago at the governor’s residence he had told her to treat Grayford well, that she would not likely find another man who loved her as genuinely.
Tonight she had told Grayford she would marry him before he sailed. Henceforth she would strive to make the most of her relationship with him. Several doors had closed on the pathway of life, but her future as a duchess in England with Lord Grayford remained open. She would enter that door, lest she end up with nothing but ashes.
Buccaneers Series Page 97