“Where is the wind, Captain? The longer we float idly, the farther Frederick sails away.”
Instead of the sneering comment or sarcastic look she’d expected, concern warmed his gaze. “Believe me, milady, I am as anxious to be on our way as you are.”
She heard footsteps and turned to see Sawkins descending from the quarterdeck, having retrieved and donned his Holland shirt. Cutter leaned on the railing to her right, smoking his pipe.
Kent scratched the stubble on his chin. “Perhaps you should pray to your God to send us wind. If He exists and cares for you as you say, perchance He would prove it to all of us.”
Isabel huffed. She patted her combs and wiped the perspiration from the back of her neck. Cutter, Smithy, Gibbons, and some of the other pirates glanced her way. Her gaze passed over each of them. They loved a challenge, and she had just been passed one, or rather God had. She remembered the incredible miracles she’d witnessed while on board the Reliance with Lady Charlisse. Would God answer her prayers as well? Lady Charlisse possessed the faith of a saint. But where did that leave Isabel? Oh Lord, please help me.
“Very well.” She stormed to the starboard railing in a swoosh of skirts and leaned over the bulwark. One glance over her shoulder told her all eyes were upon her as she bowed her head and clasped her hands together. “Oh Lord, please send a wind to fill these sails—for my darling Frederick and to prove to these men that You are indeed all powerful.”
Opening her eyes, she raised her head and scanned the deck. The same eyes that had swarmed over her now shifted to the sky, the sails above, and over the calm seas. Moments passed and nothing save stagnant air surrounded them.
Shrugging, Smithy grunted and turned away. Some of the other pirates chuckled and returned to their cards or their drink. Kent crossed his arms over his chest and stared out over the Caribbean, refusing to meet her gaze.
Facing the sea again, Isabel hung her head.
Cutter drifted over to her. “’Twas a noble effort, milady, but as I have told you, there is no God, only fate.” He puffed upon his pipe and gave her a lopsided grin.
Sawkins eased beside her and grabbed the railing. “Perchance there is a God, good doctor, but He does not suffer Himself to be concerned with petty human affairs.”
Isabel remained silent, chiding herself for her weak faith, and for making a fool of God in front of these men. Forcing back tears, she began to doubt that any of her prayers would be answered. A light breeze danced among the tendrils of her hair, cooling the perspiration on her neck. She sighed and squinted toward the fiery orb now dipping below the ruffled sea. Well, at least the night would bring some relief from the blistering heat. A draft swirled around Isabel, and closing her eyes, she wrenched her sodden gown from her skin, hoping some air would find its way beneath.
Her eyes sprang open. Wind?
The slight flap of a sailcloth drummed over the ship.
“Hmm.” Cutter glanced up.
“I daresay,” Sawkins added.
A blast of wind struck them, and Isabel lifted her gaze to watch each sail fill to brimming with a series of billowing snaps. The ship lurched to port as mountains of white canvas rose above them. The captain studied her with crinkled brow before he turned and began firing orders to his crew.
Isabel clung to the railing as the ship plunged forward through the rippling sea. Sawkins and Cutter stood beside her, jaws agape, staring up into the sky. She gave them a patronizing grin before darting down the companionway, feeling as if she were floating upon the fresh breeze God had sent her way.
Bursting into her cabin, she closed and locked the door, then lifted the latch on the window and pried it open. A cool breeze raced through the room, sweeping aside the stifling air. Giggling, she tore through the buttons and lace on her gown, desperate to remove the sticky garment and feel the wind upon her sweltering skin.
“Thank you, Lord. Oh, thank you for answering my prayer.” She felt giddy with delight and praise. Stripped down to her undergarments, she twirled through the room and allowed the cool air to dance over her. Finally, she lowered the sleeves of her chemise and splashed water from the basin onto her skin.
It was then that she heard the scuff of boots on the wooden floor behind her.
With her arms flung across her chest, she spun around. Hann rose from a crouching position behind the desk and pressed a finger to his lips.
Isabel screamed.
Chapter Twelve
Where Affections May Fall
Isabel screamed—a loud, piercing scream she knew would bring the entire crew to her door. The pounding of boots sounded across the deck and echoed down the ladder. She stared at Hann, aghast, unsure what to do. The young lad made no move toward her. His eyes held neither malicious intent nor lust as they shifted from her to the door. A quiet appeal reached from them as he took a step toward her and shook his head.
“Do not fear me, milady,” he whispered.
“Why should I not?” Isabel held her chemise tightly to her chest. “Clearly you are no better than the rest of the licentious pirates on board this ship.”
Amusement flickered in Hann’s eyes. “I am a woman.”
Isabel backed away. A woman?
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Lady Ashton. Are you all right?” Kent shouted through the oak door, distress blaring in his voice.
Holding up a hand to silence her, Hann flung off his baldric, removed his waistcoat and tore off his soiled cotton shirt, dropping it to the floor. Beneath it, a coil of cloth was tightly bound to his chest.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Milady?”
“Yes.” Isabel heard the unease in her own voice but thought it better to respond before Kent broke down the door.
Hann turned to his side, revealing the slight curves of his figure confined by the tight fabric.
“I intend to break through this door if you do not assure me of your safety, milady.”
Isabel continued to stare at Hann, the reality of what she was seeing finally blanketing her fears. Throwing her arms into the sleeves of her chemise, she drew it over her chest and nodded toward Hann. “I’m quite safe, Captain. Thank you.”
Staggering to the bed, she clutched her stomach and sank onto the soft quilt.
Hann gave her a sheepish grin, picked up his—her—shirt from the floor, and quickly donned it.
A thump sounded on the door as if a head struck it. “Did you not scream, milady?”
“Aye, ’twas but a mouse, Captain. Forgive me.” Isabel raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Hann gave her a playful look and did the same.
Grumbling emanated from the hallway. “Shall I come in and defend you against the vicious beast?” The sarcasm in Kent’s voice oozed through the wood.
“Nay, Captain. Why add one vicious beast to another?”
Kent growled, and Isabel heard the shuffle of his boots fade away.
When she no longer heard sounds coming from the hallway, she turned toward Hann and let out a huge sigh. “You gave me quite a start.”
Grinning, Hann donned her clothes and plopped into one of the leather chairs. “My apologies, miss. I had no idea you would return to your cabin so soon. Nor that you would strip down to your undergarments within seconds.” She rolled her eyes.
“I was hot.” Isabel defended what could be perceived as risqué behavior. “But you are a woman?” The truth still sailed across her mind, unwilling to find anchor.
“Aye, ’tis been my misfortune my whole life.”
Shaking her head, Isabel scanned the young lad—or young lady—noting the soft, brown hair that curled slightly as it touched her collar, the large violet eyes framed by lashes much too long for a man’s, the delicate lift of her nose, and the lack of stubble on a face always smeared with dirt. “Why didn’t I notice this before?”
“People tend to see only what they want to.”
Water gurgled against the side of the ship. Familiar creaks and groans of the timbers, tackles and
booms returned, and with them Isabel’s hope, for once again she felt the gentle forward heave of the ship around her.
She glanced back at Hann. She’d never felt uneasy in the boy’ presence—even when she’d found herself alone with him. “Who are you? And how did come to join a pirate ship?”
Hesitating, Hann finally stood and turned her back to Isabel. “’Tis a woeful tale, and a long one at that.” She strode to the window and peered out before turning back around. “Let us just say that I did not flourish as a woman in a man’s world.”
Hann’s words trampled over Isabel’s reason. She’d never considered such a thing—never thought she’d had a choice in the matter. Before Kent’s assault on her, she’d rather enjoyed being a woman, along with all the privileges and lack of responsibilities that accompanied the weaker sex. It thrilled her to find herself under the protection of honorable men—still did, in fact. But no man had come to rescue her from Kent that night. She’d been forced to rely on her own strength and cunning—and found herself lacking.
Her curiosity rose, and she patted the bed beside her. “Please favor me with your story, Hann. I’d love to hear it. That isn’t your real name either, I suppose.”
“I am Lady Anne Milissa Bovie.” Hann grinned and curtsied, making the feminine gesture look rather silly in her pirate regalia.
Isabel raised her hand to her mouth. “A lady—a pirate lady?” Her thoughts drifted to Charlisse. “I knew another pirate lady once.”
Hann approached the bed. “Truly, I thought I was the only fortunate one.”
Isabel took Hann’s hand in hers and noticed how slender and long her fingers were despite the roughness of her skin. “How did I not see it?” She gazed over the delicate features of her face and saw beauty within. “You’ve hidden your gender well.”
“Not so well today, I fear.”
Isabel gave her a coy look. “Though the pirates certainly thought you a catamite, I don’t believe they ever suspected you were a lady.”
“I should have been able to defend myself better,” Hann huffed. “I’ve put much practice into my swordplay of late.”
“That you stood up to three of those knaves at all astounds me—especially now that I know you are a woman.”
“But not when I was a man.” Hann gave her a taunting grin.
“No, I feared for your safety.”
“Aye, I appreciate you stepping in for me, though ’twas a foolish thing to do. If the captain hadn’t entered at that moment…” Hann crinkled her nose and looked away.
“Well he did and that’s the end of it.”
Hann cocked her head. “Perhaps you have more manly courage within you than you give yourself credit for.”
Isabel smiled, warmed by the compliment, but recalled the overwhelming fear that had halted her in her tracks. “Do tell me what tragedy or perhaps what fortune forced you to a pirate’s life.”
Hann glanced anxiously at the door. “The captain may be looking for me.”
“I can handle the captain.” Isabel said. “But what were you doing in my cabin?”
“Searching for something.”
Isabel remained silent but gave her a questioning look.
Hann sighed. “The captain stores an extra pouch of tobacco from Peru in his desk.”
“I’ve never seen the captain smoke.”
“Nay, he keeps it for Cutter when the two of them have one of their late night parleys.” Hann glanced uncomfortably around the cabin. “I overheard him saying he missed the sweet flavor, and I thought he might enjoy some—especially after nearly being shot on my account.”
Isabel gave her a sideways smile, finally understanding the strange attraction between Hann and Cutter. “Does the doctor know?”
“That I am a woman?” Hann’s brows shot up. “Nay, milady. No one knows.” Kneeling, she retrieved her baldric and cutlass and strapped it on as a blush rose up her neck.
“Please stay awhile, Hann.” Isabel pleaded. “’Tis been too long since I’ve talked to another woman.” Truth be told, Isabel found herself fascinated by this pirate girl and wanted to know everything about her.
Nodding, Hann jumped into one of the chairs, and answered Isabel’s questions, at first with hesitancy, but as the evening progressed, with much more ease. The longer they conversed, the lower Hann’s tense shoulders dropped and her manly façade with them, until Isabel easily saw the feminine gestures she’d entirely missed before.
“Your father arranged the marriage?” Isabel patted the combs in her hair.
“Aye, to Phillipe Alain Bovie, Comte de Gimois—the rat,” Hann spat. “A good match, my father had assured me—wealth and title.”
“French?”
“Aye. French.” She spoke the word with contempt. “Since no noble blood runs through our veins, ’twas a beneficial union for our family.”
“But you did not love this Phillipe?”
“Love him? I didn’t know him. All I ever wanted was to work with my father on his shi—” Hann froze and darted a cautious gaze at Isabel. “Phillipe was a beast.” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “An old tyrant who berated me with his tongue and hounded me with his lecherous hands.”
Reaching over, Isabel touched Hann. “I’m sorry.”
Hann flattened her lips. “It matters not. I ran away at the first opportunity.”
A breeze wafted through the darkened window, carrying with it the fragrance of the sea—salt, and spice, and the pungent scent of fish. It played with a tendril of Isabel’s hair, and she tugged upon the curl, pondering Hann’s story. “But to what did you run? You left your only chance at wealth and title.” Isabel shook her head and realized she’d done the same thing, but with good reason—for the life of her son. “Could you not tolerate this Frenchman’s company for that recompense alone?”
Hann frowned. “Once I had those privileges—the silk gowns, the fine delicacies, the respect of society—I found them to be empty and frivolous, mere trifles for the rich to fritter away their lives with.”
Isabel gave her friend a puzzled look. “But without them you are nothing in this world—a commoner, destined to trudge through life with naught but the clothes on your back. ’Tis a hard life you’ve adopted when all you had to do was tolerate the company of an old man—though horrid he may have been—who would have surely died long before you.” As the words flowed from her lips, Isabel realized they could have easily come from her mother’s lips as well. She held her stomach, suddenly nauseated.
“Philippe did die, six months after I left him, or so I heard. Natural causes. But I still am not sorry I left him when I did. I’ve had six months of a far better life. And now that I play the part of a man”—Hann’s eyes flickered with excitement—“I am the master of my own life. ’Tis a man’s world, milady. If you want to live life to its fullest, you must become one.”
Isabel sighed and studied her new friend. She’d never met another woman with such preposterous ideas—a philosophy that threw itself in the face of everything Isabel had ever valued and believed. And though she certainly didn’t agree with her, Isabel liked the girl. Admired her for her courage, her resourcefulness, her pluck. She was everything Isabel had been taught not to be. And the way she’d forged into a man’s world—a pirate’s world—deserved much praise. Yet could she truly deny her gender forever? Isabel thought of Cutter and she smiled. “You are still a woman with a woman’s desires. I see the way you look at the doctor.”
Hann’s face blossomed, and she shot to her feet. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, come now, ’tis obvious you have affections for him.”
Hann’s shoulder’s sank. “Is it really?”
“Even the men noticed it. ’Twas why they thought you a catamite.”
Hann knelt and took Isabel’s hands in hers. “He’s such a kind, generous man, isn’t he? And so wise.” Her violet eyes sparkled.
“I like him too.”
“But what difference does it make now?
” Hann released Isabel’s hands and stood. “He thinks I’m a boy and a rather odd one at that.”
“You could reveal yourself to him.”
Hann’s brows raised. “And lose my position on the ship. If the captain knew I was a woman he’d drop me off at the nearest port. Or worse, confine me to the hold.” Anger spewed from her lips.
Isabel doubted the latter. Kent liked Hann. “Why do you hate the captain so?”
“I don’t hate him.” Hann turned away. “Why do you say that?”
“Just something I’ve observed.”
Hann marched to the door and braced her hands on her waist, and Isabel thought better than to pursue the subject. “But what of Cutter? Would it not be worth it to have his affections?”
“Nay.” Hann shook her head. “I never want to be a woman again. I don’t understand why anyone would. We are considered weak and ignorant, pretty dolls for men to dress up in silks and lace and place on display until their desires require our services. I will never submit myself to another man, no matter how gallant he is. No, ’tis a pirate’s life I’ve chosen. I need only keep my sentiments at bay.”
Isabel doubted the success of Hann’s plan. “Well, your secret is safe with me, Anne.” She winked.
“Thank you, milady.” Hann reached out and gave Isabel’s hand a squeeze.
Isabel’s eyes moistened. “I must admit, ’tis a comfort have a friend to talk to on this ship full of boisterous men.”
“For me as well.” Hann glanced at the door. “Now, I must be off. If the captain finds me here alone with you, he’ll lash me and hang me from the yardarm, to be sure.”
“Then be off with you, and be safe, my friend.”
The young girl nodded and left.
Isabel lay on the bed, hoping sleep would overtake her, but the exciting events of the day—the sword fights, God’s miraculous answer to her prayer, and Hann’s fascinating story—skipped through her mind, keeping it from slipping into unconsciousness. Finally, she crept up onto the deck, searching for a peaceful spot where she could gaze upon the ocean and pray for Frederick.
The Restitution Page 13