The Winds of Fate

by Michel, Elizabeth

  “Where are your glasses, Lily?” She had never seen her cousin without them.

  Lily sat on the sofa and Claire joined her. “With Robert escorting me, I don’t need them. He says I have beautiful eyes and wants to see them.” Lily smiled, a slight pink touched her cheeks as she retrieved her glasses from her pocket and put them back on. “Robert has asked me to be his wife. But first he has to ask Captain Blackmon permission to sail out and obtain a minister. Claire, I am so unbelievably happy.”

  “But do you think it is wise to marry a pirate? He is a man with no future.”

  Lily tapped a finger on the book on Claire’s lap. “Robert was forced into circumstances beyond his control. He is a decent man. He fought for what he believed in, and to tell you the truth, if I were a man, I would have done so too. Oh Claire. Love is a gift with a cost. There is never an easy way. The risk is worth taking.”

  Claire digested Lily’s unwavering devotion. “Lily, you are always the rational one. What if he is hunted down and hanged?”

  “I’ll take that risk.” Lily looked at her. “What’s wrong, Claire? You’re not fooling me. Is Captain Blackmon treating you badly?”

  Under Lily’s intense analytical stare, Claire wavered, unable to conceal her inner turmoil. “No-not at all.” He treated her with indifference.

  Lily studied her through her spectacles for a minute longer. “Robert told me many things about Captain Blackmon. They are very close. Although Captain Blackmon never spoke, Ames had a feel for what thoughts he had. He had great difficulty turning to piracy. Resisted it like the plague.”

  “I fail to see why that is important,” Claire sniffed.

  “It is important. Robert told me Devon despaired, the scorn he would receive from you.”

  “From me? What difference would that make?”

  “With every action he committed, he thought of you. The desperate trade he embarked was his only recourse. Robert told me how awful it was for them once they escaped Jamaica. They were adrift, blundering about this pestilent archipelago, courting disaster. At any moment, they could have crashed upon a reef, been swept away in a storm, but what was worse was when the food stores depleted to nothing, and the men starved for days. No one had the skills to guide them. Robert, their navigator, so abused by Jarvis, hovered between life and death. It was Captain Blackmon’s sheer strength of will that offered hope for the men when their hour lay most grim.”

  Claire inhaled, picturing the disaster they teetered on.

  “As Captain Smith told us, they were picked up by Spanish pirates, enslaved and suffered cruelly. It was Devon’s pretty speech entreating them to use his surgeon’s skills. The Spanish conceded. He dropped a drug into potions of their rum, drugging the crew then released his men and threw the Spaniards into the hold. Blessedly, Robert dropped his fever and recovered enough to help them gain a sense of where they were. With no country to call home, and escaped slaves, the men had no other choice but to embrace piracy. They demanded and with unanimous approval, voted Devon as their leader, swearing their complete loyalty to him. Devon ended yielding to pressure, abandoning himself to the stream of destiny. But I can tell you, his decision, albeit reluctant, stood the only way for them to survive.”

  “Who am I to judge?”

  Lily’s head snapped up. “Your life has been chaotic and you have provided for Cookie and me at sacrifice to yourself. It is time for you to be happy, Claire. It is all right to change your thinking−to risk love.” Lily clasped Claire’s hand and squeezed. “I am not budging until you tell me what is wrong.”

  “He is not the man I knew on Jamaica.” Claire rose barely keeping a hold on things. “Let me show you to a room, Lily.”

  “But I’m not staying here.”

  Claire pivoted, her voice floundering. “Not staying here? Then where?”

  Lily flushed. “You should know that Bloodsmythe and Cookie−” Lily dropped another thunderbolt. Claire swallowed. Emotions swirled. Jealousy? Desertion? Until now, she had assumed Cookie and Lily would be a permanent fixture in her life and return to London with her. The child in Claire selfishly regarded them as her own, but the adult woman in her understood to let them go. Devon had promised to put her in a port where she could travel to England. Her chest hitched. To be entirely alone? The grim reality slammed into her full force. Cookie and Lily would not be a part of her future. Everyone made choices. Claire chose to go to England. She would not hold them accountable to her decision to accompany her. She loved them too much.

  Claire’s restless nature took her from the confines of the house. With a lot to mull over, she struck out through tropical jungle, following a trail and not knowing what she would encounter. The forest was very dark with little filtered light coming to the small shrubs on the ground. Her eyes followed thick strangler vines, rising upward through an over-canopy of wide trees. When she cleared the top of a ridge, her breath caught and she halted, gripped in complete awe.

  Her mouth dropped open, standing atop the most enviable spot in the world with beauty beyond her wildest imagination. Hidden in this forest enclave, a waterfall tumbled down a fern softened cliff into a deep lagoon, paired by a sister waterfall farther up. Sun poured into the glade, affecting a rainbow with butterflies flitting everywhere to a melodic chorus of birds, and making her spirits soar. Beneath a blue sky, a rug of yellow, scarlet and orange flowers sparkled with the dew of morning. She filled her lungs with the fragrance and warm tropical air.

  This was virgin territory, this place of magic, a world separate from the rest of the world. Had anyone ever tread here? It was so enthralling that her heart caught at the sight of it. Claire claimed it, and in her euphoria, eagerly removed her shoes then dress, stripping down to her chemise. She dove into the cool water, surfaced and laughed like a young child. Abu Ajir swooped over her and she splashed at him. “You’re spying on me, you feathered rascal.”

  Floating on her back and staring at the sky, she thought of James from the Jamaican orphanage. He was like Devon, so exuberant, so resilient, as wild and natural as the gulls flying over the ocean. Claire clung to the hope of someday having her own child. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted that. Deep down, she knew she’d be good at being a mother. That hope swept further and further away. Her fantasies revolved around Devon. What he did to her. How he made her feel. Her stomach tightened, his hands sliding down her back. Her hand flew to her breast.

  She must stop this madness. She must guard her heart. To bring Devon’s child into the world would be disastrous. He remained a wanted man, more-so as his reputation grew, and the Crowns of Europe amassed a high reward for his capture. Claire closed her eyes, refusing to imagine the horrible execution awaiting him. Devon would be hunted down. In no way would she allow her child to experience the crushing weight of abandonment that weighed heavily on her shoulders. To even entertain the remotest possibility of filling that void inside her with Devon would be a journey down a landscape of illusion. How would she explain to her child, his father was hung in a gibbet for the crows to feast?

  After her swim, she visited her new friend, Jenny, her pregnancy progressed with no sign of labor. The poor girl had stubbed her toe and sat to nurse the pain. Claire hauled water and did other chores, insisting Jenny rest.

  She walked back to Devon’s house. The trade-winds shifted, veering a towering dark mass from the leeward side of the island, shadowing her. Claire glanced at the ominous cloud, shrugging her indifference to a brewing inner turmoil swirling through her conscious mind. The tortured thoughts she tried so hard to repress always came to the same conclusion−Devon.

  Another ship had anchored in the harbor, but Claire was too consumed with her thoughts to give it much notice. She sighed. When Devon finished with repairs, she’d insist on him taking her to another port.

  “Claire!” Lily burst from behind.

  Claire whirled, her cousin reduced to shambles, her hair disordered, and her parchment pale face brightened with tears in her terrified
eyes. “What happened?”

  Lily floundered in misery. “Robert went to Captain Blackmon and asked him if he could sail out to get a minister. Captain Blackmon said no and outright forbade our marriage. I was to go to England with you, and it would be settled in a fortnight.”

  Claire reeled from his flat out rejection. “Why would Devon refuse you?”

  “I don’t know. He gave no reason at all. Robert is as devastated as me. However he is loyal to Captain Blackmon and will not go against his command. I found someone to love, and he loves me, and we are to be ripped apart and left heartbroken,” Lily wailed and clung to Claire.

  Claire’s temper soared. “Of all the unfair, unprincipled, callous−I will take care of this. Now dry your eyes, and don’t give it another thought. This will be resolved immediately.”

  Claire dug her heels into the path, intending to hunt Devon down even if it took her to the far corners of the earth. Upon entering the house, Devon’s voice rumbled in the library, apparently he was having a meeting with one of his crew. A goliath with a black patch over his eye guarded the library door. She looked up until her neck had a crick in it. Was this Jenny’s husband, the famed Wolf? His arms were crossed in front of him in a clear statement that suggested no one was allowed to enter. If only she had the strength of ten men to toss him out of the way. She frowned. Even that idea was doubtful. How would she ever get around him?

  “Mr. Wolf, I just visited your wife. She is in pain,” Claire bit her lip, altering the facts that implied his wife was in labor never revealing she had a stubbed toe. The giant blinked and flew out the door.

  Without knocking, she sailed into the library, Devon in her sights, and oblivious to a visitor seated in a high back chair.

  “Of all the low, despicable wretched decisions you have made, this has got to be the worst. Why have you denied Lily and Robert to marry?”

  “That is an affair I will not discuss now.” His tone incensed her further.

  Claire plunked herself in front of his desk. “When will his lordship, the mighty Black Devil condescend to discuss this affair?”

  “I am busy and will address it at my convenience.”

  “Convenience! You arrogant, proud, preening peacock. We will discuss−” Devon’s attention stayed focused behind her. Hairs on Claire’s neck stood up.

  “Captain Blackmon. She is a beauty in a fit of rage. How could I forget? I see you have kept her captive. Not for ransom? Perhaps a liaison?”

  That voice. She whirled. “Captain Le Trompeur. What are you doing here?”

  “You are not happy to see me?” He sat suavely in his chair, his lewd gaze traveled over her face and body.

  Claire’s anger evaporated. A cold knot formed in her stomach. Did the air change? She couldn’t breathe. She glanced uncertainly at Devon, his face a mask of stone. The muscles on his forearm hardened beneath his sleeve. A chill black silence enveloped the room. An undercurrent lay heavy and palpable between the two men.

  Le Trompeur broke the silence. “I have come on a mission of diplomacy. To end our enmity and strike our partnership anew. I paid my half of the Santa Luga in which I was absently remiss. In good faith, I begged pardon of Captain Blackmon.” He flashed a lecherous smile.

  She stiffened. “I will return later, Devon-I mean Captain Blackmon.” Too late, her mistake. Her familiarity with Devon picked up by Le Trompeur. His ferret eyes missed nothing.

  “No, Mademoiselle. I insist you stay and charm us with your presence.” He leaped from his chair, his movements like the lithe strength of a panther. He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “It is too bad Mademoiselle, we did not sail together. Perhaps another time?”

  Claire jerked her hand away and shuddered, the blackness of his eyes masked the souls of a hundred demons. “That is doubtful, sir.”

  “Perhaps in the future we will spend some time together, Mademoiselle?” He laughed his challenge. A trapdoor opened in the floor of her stomach.

  Devon stepped between them. “That will be all, Le Trompeur. The lady will be put at an English port to sail to England.” They exchanged polite smiles. “Women make you stupid, Le Trompeur, a flaw in your nature.”

  “Well met, my friend. With the Captain’s permission, I beg to do repairs for four weeks.”

  “Ten days is sufficient,” growled Devon with a chilled comportment that excluded all argument.

  “May I be sunk in everlasting hell if I have not departed by then,” Le Trompeur made a study of his nails.

  “Make haste with your repairs and one final word of caution.” Devon swept his hand to the door. “Do not lay a hand on anything that is mine, otherwise your visit will precipitate your departure to the nether world. My sword will target a more vital organ the next time.”

  Beneath a flash of hostility, Le Trompeur vented incredulity, daring a flitting glance up and down Claire. “By the saints, whatever do you mean? It’s as if I took Holy Orders. I assure you, Captain Blackmon, my thinking is clear and your message well read.” Le Trompeur bowed with mild amusement.

  Abu Ajir flew in the window and perched on Devon’s shoulder, turned his head and eyed Le Trompeur with its cold black eyes. The Frenchman’s amusement vanished. He stepped back, caught Claire staring then straightened abruptly. Had she seen a flash of fear in the Frenchman’s eyes? Was he superstitious? He strode from the room with a cavalier, “Au revoir.”

  Devon raked his hands through his hair. “Now what was so important that it couldn’t have waited?” He dropped into his chair, propped his feet upon his desk. Most women would have cowered in front of the French pirate.

  “Lily and Robert−you’ve made a grievous error concerning their future.”

  He stared at her over his steepled fingers. Instead of her being concerned of Le Trompeur’s threats, she worried over an entirely different matter. “Sit down, Claire,” he commanded. “Do you understand the damage you’ve done?” He sighed through his teeth. Removing himself from her proximity, sleeping on his ship at night had not released that howling beast that had taken up residence in his head.

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Le Trompeur has seen you here. I don’t trust him. He’s dangerous.

  “That’s not the matter I wish to address. My concern is for Lily and Robert. How can you not allow them to marry? Your command defies any rational thought and is cruel. I cannot believe you made such an unconscionable decision.”

  Hell.

  He folded his arms. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Do about it? I cannot believe you made such a dreadful decision. They are made for each other. How could you tear them apart?”

  Reason. His mind floundered. He must focus on reason. It did no good to think about Claire. He’d been a fool to hope. She had one path and he had another.

  “You’re going back to England where you belong. Lily is going with you. I will not have you living a life alone. End of discussion.” He attempted to do what was honorable. Some sense of pity for her stole into his soul as he remembered her painful story. He remembered every word and deed about her heartless bastard of an uncle.

  “If you have any sense of humanity, please allow them to marry. Don’t let them be torn apart, to abandon all hope, to live sad and lonely lives when they need to be together.”

  Her thick lashes were spiky with tears. Did she realize she talked of Devon and herself?

  “Before I consider your wish regarding Lily and Robert, you must agree to a concession.”

  Claire stiffened at his suggestion. Her lovely face mirrored the suspicious direction of her thinking. The promise. A long forgotten memory flickered across Devon’s mind as he gazed at her. “We’ve come a long way for our parting to not end on friendly terms.”

  “Of course. What is the concession you demand?” she said guardedly.

  “If you had all the money in the world,” Devon gauged her, “What would you wish for?”

  Claire walked to the window and gaz
ed out to the sea. “At one time, I desired a modest home in the city, a place with my children to love and a husband to−all very simple. But now−” She sent him a rueful smile, her voice tinged with sadness. “That’s all behind me.”

  She didn’t finish, but Devon filled in the blanks. He knew in that instant Claire would never marry again. In a roundabout way, she was informing him exactly of that notion. Despite her denying their marital status, her incredible moral nature would prevent her from committing such a sin and dishonoring the vows she had spoken to him.

  “Above all,” she added, “A place for my family that was Safe. Sound. Secure.”

  “We all have those dreams, Claire,” Devon interrupted.

  Claire nodded her head, the wistful yearning heard in her soft voice. “I guess the reality is, I’ll be getting my freedom.”

  Devon frowned, thinking of her bittersweet words. She’d convinced herself that a future between them was impossible. “Have you given any thought on how a single woman with very little means will survive?”

  Claire drew a long steadying breath, “I’ll make do. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. What was the concession you required?”

  Devon rose and walked to her side. A constriction in his chest kept his arms at his sides when in actuality, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms. Her huge eyes were shining and she swiped at a single tear. He produced a handkerchief and made her blow her nose. She got hold of her sorrow, but barely.

  “My concession is for you to promise me you’ll contact my solicitor in England. He was an English captive I freed on a Spanish ship and one I’ve developed a business relationship that I can trust. I’ll have an account set up for you to withdraw funds in London. You’ll want for nothing. I guarantee, your wish to live independently and undisturbed will be fulfilled.” He didn’t inform her she would be able to live in the grandest style, wanting for nothing.

  “Devon, I cannot take any money from you,” Claire protested.

  Reaching out, he tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Claire,” he said with quiet firmness, “I will not give into your denial. Either you accept my terms or Lily goes back to London with you.”