by Tina Donahue
Tristan colored. “It’s quite a tale and not for your ears. Your idea’s excellent. Bishop believing we’ll slip from his grasp yet again will certainly compel him to act. What else should we include?”
“The coordinates.” Peter had spoken from the hall, an open volume in his hand. “The correct ones this time.”
Royce would wager Peter’s book was upside down. Trying not to smile, he spoke to Tristan. “Another mind focused on this couldn’t hurt. What say we ask him to join us?”
Tristan gestured Peter inside.
They deliberated for hours, adding and discarding ideas. Royce wrote so much his hand cramped.
Tristan sagged in his chair. “What do we have?”
“The final version, I hope.” Royce slid it to Tristan and gathered near as James and Peter did, the lot of them reading quietly.
B. B.
Coordinates on other side of sheet. Your action required now.
T. and pirates preparing to take a prize. May be away for months. D. joining them. Their departure date next to coordinates. Most vulnerable times here, when I keep watch (alone), also there.
Must act before he departs. Need your immediate response and when you’ll set sail.
Miss this chance and there may not be another. T. has spoken of locating to another isle.
R. H.
* * * *
Royce’s papers surrounded Simone on the chamber floor. He’d written them the first day he’d read her the medicine book. She kept the sheets without telling him, wanting something of his to keep close.
She pressed them to her face. They didn’t bear his musky scent. She ran her finger over the symbols, not knowing what they said. A tear splashed on one, smearing the ink. She blew hurriedly to dry the drop. Whether his words were bad or good, a lie or truth, she couldn’t part with them.
It was wrong to love him more than she did her people, but Simone couldn’t stop. If she’d been able to read and had seen these before James did, she couldn’t have betrayed Royce. She would have talked to the priest’s god and her own to make things right. They would have helped her and never let the white men come here as Gavra warned.
And Royce wanted.
Simone held the paper to her chest, longing and hopelessness tearing her apart, the pain worse than the pirate’s sword slashing her leg. When she’d been with Royce, her scar hadn’t looked ugly. The mark proved they matched and were born for each other. Not even death could separate them.
He did love her, even if it was only a little. His face and eyes couldn’t lie about that.
A light rap hit her door.
She gathered the papers and pushed them under her bed. “Gavra?” Simone didn’t want to see her, but did, confused as to what she should do.
The door opened a crack. Tristan smiled. “Diana and I wanted to see how you are. May we come in?”
“Oui.” She stood and offered Diana the chair.
“Perhaps you should sit.” Tristan gestured Simone to the bed. “We heard you collapsed before. Are you all right now?”
“What happened to Royce?”
“Nothing. We spoke. He’s in his chamber.”
Good news. Perhaps. Simone wrung her hands. “As your prisoner? Will you send him to the same island you did Canela? He needs to help his family. If he goes to the other isle, he may never find his way home. Please, you have to stop hurting him and help him as he needs.”
“I haven’t done anything, nor do I plan to. We settled things between us.”
“How?”
“He’s going to take care of the white man we’re worried about. Make certain he doesn’t harm anyone here.”
“How can he do that from this isle when the white man is on his own land? How can Royce win by himself without a pistol or sword?”
“All the men here will fight at his side when Bishop comes with his crew.”
She jumped up. “The devil comes here? Royce will be in a battle with him and pirates?”
“Not pirates. Mariners.”
“What does it matter? He could die.”
Diana tugged Tristan’s shirt and spoke English. He answered her. Their conversation grew heated.
Simone could scarcely keep still. When Tristan and James were still pirates, Gavra had cried herself to sleep every night James wasn’t here, terrified he wouldn’t return. That he’d die without them seeing each other a final time. Simone had comforted Gavra, but never understood her stark terror.
“I have to see Royce.” She padded around Tristan. “We must talk.” She had to convince him not to do this.
“Wait.” Tristan held her arm lightly. “It’s best you not go to his room. Diana and I also came here to talk to you about that.”
“We can use mine. Or do you want us to go your library?”
He blew out a breath and released her. “It’s best you don’t speak to him at all. Diana and I—”
“Why? You said he fixed things with you. Did you lie?”
“Of course not. But Diana feels, that is, we both feel it’s best you not get too involved with him, as a friend or anything else. Once we see to Bishop, Royce will leave to help his family. He can’t stay here forever. Didn’t he tell you that?”
Simone squared her shoulders. “I told him. He said he wanted to help them and be with me and would fix everything. He has with you, why not with us?”
“That’s different. Diana, please.” Tristan brushed her hand away and spoke English.
She slumped back and sighed.
He faced Simone. “I wish I could give you what you want. I’m certain Diana would also love to do that. Royce can’t, no matter what he said. He has obligations elsewhere that will take him away, surely for years, possibly forever. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Do you think your cruel words stop that?”
His eyes widened. “They’re not cruel. They’re the truth.”
“Are you forbidding me to talk to him?”
“I haven’t the right. You’re free to do whatever you want. However, consider what prolonging this will do to him. He can’t think of anyone but you. He doesn’t even care about his own safety anymore. Repeatedly, James threatened to shoot him for talking out of turn and Royce kept doing so, wanting to know if you were all right. Give the man some peace. He knows what he must do. He simply can’t face it yet, so he engages in this dream about you and him being together. It won’t happen. It can’t if he wants to bring his loved ones home. They come first. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be. To let him believe otherwise is only going to increase his suffering when you do part.”
The room swayed around her. A terrible taste rose to her mouth. She forced it down.
“Do you need to sit again?” Tristan reached for her.
Simone backed away. “I will never speak to or look at Royce, as you want. I’ll make him forget me so he can go to England with a lighter heart. I only wanted him to be happy. It would kill me to bring him pain.”
“I know you didn’t mean to. And I’m terribly sorry this hasn’t worked out.”
“Me too. Please leave. I want to be alone.”
“Of course.” Tristan led Diana from the room and closed the door gently.
Simone covered her face, but wouldn’t allow herself to cry.
* * * *
Two doors from Simone’s room, Diana tugged Tristan’s hand. He pretended not to notice and fled down the hall, away from female tears, heartache, and problems he had no idea how to fix.
“Tristan, will you stop?”
“Once I get to the dining area. I’m famished. Forgot to eat the evening meal.” He’d been dealing with Royce’s troubles instead. Now they were his problems, forcing Tristan to compose missives and plan an attack that might see him, James, Peter, or the island men killed.
That should have been enough to give Royce nightmares, yet nothing except Simone engaged his thoughts. Their grand love that was far more
hopeless than Tristan’s had ever been for Diana. He didn’t have a family to go back to. Staying here wasn’t only easy for him, he had no other choice if he wanted to live another day. As far as Diana’s family, she only had Peter to worry about.
Even with those obstacles absent, their problems never ceased.
She crowded him at the table, arms crossed. “What did you say to Simone? She looked worse than she did in the kitchen. Why didn’t you wait for me to talk so you could translate as we’d planned?”
“I had no chance. She hounded me with questions as you’re doing. How do women ever converse with each other? You never stop speaking.”
“Men kill each other without blinking an eye. There. It’s your turn to insult my sex. Then it will be my turn to slander yours.”
He dropped to his chair and pulled her onto his lap. “I refuse to argue with you. You smell too good.” He pressed his face to her hair.
She pulled back. “I love you too. But right now, I want to talk. Please tell me what you said.”
“The unvarnished truth. She shouldn’t be around Royce at all because it isn’t fair to him. When it comes to her, he’s obviously lost whatever good sense he had. He can’t think of anything except Simone. She needs to accept that he’s going to leave as soon as we deal with Bishop and she’ll never see Royce again. No matter what he wants, nothing will change his responsibilities to his mother and sisters. They come first. Simone’s an afterthought in his existence.”
Diana rubbed her forehead.
Not a good sign. “What?”
“Please tell me you didn’t use those words.”
“I can’t recall what I said exactly. She was so upset I merely tried to reason with her by using logic instead of emotion.”
“That’s usually what starts and intensifies our disagreements.”
He pulled her closer. “I like to get you worked up for later when we forgive each other in bed.”
“Be serious.”
“Very well. Adding honey to the awful truth won’t delay the inevitable. Simone’s here for life. Royce and his family will return to England where they belong. Best they accept it and move on rather than killing each other slowly with love that isn’t possible.”
Chapter 14
The following morning, it was time to alert and to prepare the islanders for Bishop’s expected arrival.
Men gathered in the courtyard beneath a gentle shower and worsening clouds. Tristan stood on a table so everyone could see him. On the ground, James flanked his right. Peter and Royce his left. Those in front regarded Royce curiously, rather than with malice. He hoped their peaceful natures wouldn’t deteriorate into anger for the danger he’d brought them. Tristan had promised to word his speech carefully to avoid anyone knowing Royce’s role in this.
These people were no fools.
“We have a situation.” Tristan’s shout was a harsh contrast to the lightly tapping rain. “Benedict Bishop, the white man who caused Yellow Scarf and the other pirates to invade here, will come himself this time. We expect him and a large crew to arrive before the next full moon. Perhaps longer if the storms return. These men will attack. We must be prepared to fight them and win.”
The islanders exchanged glances. Alarmed murmurs rose.
Adamo stepped forward. “How can you know such a thing?”
Another man called out, “Did you dream this?”
Tristan held up his hands for silence. “No, I didn’t learn this from a dream. We have information on what Bishop plans to do.”
“What is this information you speak of?” Water dripped from Adamo’s nose and hair. “Where did it come from?”
Royce gripped Tristan’s wrist and spoke English. “Let me tell them. It’s my fault. They need to know the truth.”
“Take care with what you say. James, Peter, and I are no match for so many men.”
If they tore Royce apart, he’d bloody well deserve it. However, he wanted them to save their rage for Bishop.
He climbed on the table and spoke French. “I came here from the white man’s ship. He lost valuable cargo when it sank. His men will be looking for it.”
Adamo frowned. “And you wait until now to tell us?”
Mutters and heated conversation rippled through the crowd.
Tristan gestured for quiet. “Please. Let Royce speak and he will explain.” Tristan leaned in. “You had better tell them something acceptable.”
“I shall.” He faced the men. “The weather has been too foul for Bishop to sail this far. He comes from a land where the sun sets across water so wide no man can reach here for days. The storms won’t last. When there’s a lengthy lull, he will set sail. He’s a greedy and cruel man like the pirate who once ruled this isle. He won’t rest until he has his valuables back.”
A man in the front spoke. “How does he know to look here?”
“He doesn’t for certain. However, he knows the water as Tristan does and what route his ship took. Along that course, which includes this isle, is where he’ll search for wreckage. Some is still on the shore where you found me. His men will scour every island before this one to see if it has his belongings and other wealth they want. And then they’ll come here.”
Adamo shook his good fist. “Again, I ask the same thing. Why did you wait until now to say this?”
“I’m a coward.” Royce pointed at the men behind Adamo. “I see many of you nod. You’re right to agree with me. I should have been concerned about everyone here, but I worried for myself, what I should or could say to Tristan, fearing it would mean my death for bringing trouble. I knew you could kill me at any time and feared you would.”
Protests rose from the islanders, many saying they were peaceful unlike the white men who’d come here.
Royce lifted his hands. “I had no idea what anyone here would or wouldn’t do when I first arrived. At that time and well after I started to heal from my injuries, I held my tongue as there were too many pistols pointed at me.” He gestured to Adamo. “Yours included.”
He straightened. “I never would have shot you when you had no weapon.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m not making excuses for what I did, but haven’t you ever been in a situation where you knew the right thing to do but chose another path? The wrong one? Even though you may have regretted your decision, it was too late. Circumstances got out of control without you wanting them to and you paid the price for not acting in everyone’s best interest. You thought only of your own.”
Those surrounding Adamo stared at him.
Royce hated bringing up how Adamo had helped Canela betray their people in a futile attempt to gain her love, but too much was on the line for compassion.
Adamo hit his chest. “I admit it. I’m a coward like you. I will never forgive myself for what I did to help Canela.”
“You made a mistake. We all do. You’re one of the finest men I’ve ever known and you’ll fight bravely beside your people. I will too. To the death, if necessary. This isle belongs to all of you, your women, and children, not Bishop or any others who dare come to the shore. I know Bishop’s ways and told Tristan what to expect. We need to keep a constant watch on the sea. One man at the point, as always, with the glass. Others on those parts where the land touches water deep enough for a skiff or longboat to use. If anyone sees something unusual, Tristan must know immediately.”
Royce told them the time Bishop would likely strike. The same hours he put in his message when he lied about keeping watch.
Philippe pushed through the group and stood next to Adamo. “When do we start to do these things?”
“Immediately,” Tristan said. “We haven’t anything to worry about until the sun returns over several days. However, we do need to prepare and make this new security part of our daily tasks.”
James lifted the papers he held. “I’ve prepared a list for who will keep watch and in which location. Before you leave the courtyard, I’ll tell each man wh
ere he’ll be and when. Even when you’re not on duty, you must always be alert, your pistols ready to fire at any moment.”
“What about our women?” A man with a long scar on his chest came forward. “What do we tell them?”
“You don’t. We will.” James shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “Gavra is gathering the women in the stone house so Tristan can speak to them next. Females and children stay within those walls, protected from harm while we men fight. Are you with us on that?”
They shouted their agreement, one oui blending into the other, creating an impressive roar.
Time for the women to know what trouble headed this way.
* * * *
Royce dreaded this meeting more than the one with the men.
Females filled the kitchen and dining area. Many crowded the hall. Some had babes nursing at their breasts. Others had slipped their arms around older children who sat beside them on the floor. The boys and girls fidgeted, chattered endlessly, or sang to themselves.
Peter held Laure’s hand. James embraced Gavra. Fear registered on the young women’s faces, worry in their eyes.
Royce’s fault. He’d brought this horror on these good people and Simone.
Unable to find her, he twisted and craned his neck, desperate for one look.
She leaned to the left of a woman in the hall and peered around her.
His heart paused.
Simone’s gaze met his.
Overpowering tenderness and desire welled within, urging him to gather her into his arms and never let go. He couldn’t move or draw a full breath, helpless to do anything except feast on her. Less than a day had passed since he’d last seen Simone, yet those few hours had been longer than the rest of his life.