by Meg Hennessy
Fifteen hundred feet.
Jordan’s mouth grew dry as he watched Donato de la Roche through the spyglass.
Twelve hundred feet.
He thought about Colette and the time she had lost with her family while being held as this man’s prisoner. Images of her baby raced through his mind. Had she been forced? Was she nothing more than the mother of the child? The idea of it haunted Jordan’s mind, with every thought migrating to Aurèlie, not Colette.
Is this not what he had done to Aurèlie? It was the times in which they lived. He couldn’t have Aurèlie any other way but as his mistress, and that was the life for a daughter of an aristocratic Creole family. It was done all the time. But seeing his sister made him realize what it really meant. Aurèlie had pined for a choice but was given none.
A thousand feet.
Through the spyglass, he could see the dreaded pirate. La Roche leaned on the gunwale watching their approach. His dark hair hung loose about his shoulders and he wore a fiery-red greatcoat, an easy target.
Two hundred and fifty feet.
“Mi joven amigo,” Donato called from the helm. “You might wish to throw those bow chasers at me, but I will have you raked before the fire is struck.”
“He is right, Jordan.” Loul stood by his side. “His broadside weight triples ours.”
Jordan sized up the heavy twenty-pound cannons that lined Donato’s gun deck as well as the seemingly well-trained men who stood by them ready to fire. “What do you propose, Capitán del mar de Diablo?”
“You tell me why you are about my island?”
“I brought you a prize.” Jordan motioned to the British ship. “And I escape them. An even trade.”
“I don’t make deals with corsairs. I sink them. How do you escape me?”
“But my offer is fair. A warship is heavily provisioned.”
“Si, that it is.”
As Donato spoke, he stole a glance or two toward the island. Jordan swung his spyglass around. A small yawl was bobbing over the waves heading straight for land. Suddenly, what seemed a generous offer to discuss his presence, turned into a trap, a delaying tactic until Donato would get an assessment of anything missing from the island, whether Colette or gold.
Jordan whirled back to see Donato. Within that moment of suspended time, the tall Spaniard knew Jordan had figured it out. Donato wasted little time. He ordered topsails cracked. Having the weather gauge on his side, his ship picked up headway.
Jordan raised his arm and brought it down. “Fire!”
The bow chasers exploded but Donato de la Roche had gained enough headway to escape their direct hit though forfeiting his chance to rake Le Vengeur.
Le Vengeur sailed aft and broke free into open waters.
The men shouted out a cheer, but Jordan didn’t share in their sense of victory.
Donato de la Roche had yet to learn what had been taken from his island. When he did—Jordan glanced over at Loul—their troubles would only be beginning.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Ships, I do not like, non.” Colette paced the floor of the cabin after hearing the cannons explode, trying to console her terrified child. “Evil, n’est pas?”
Aurèlie nodded. “Some are so, I think, but not your brother’s.”
“I’m brutally captured by pirates only to be rescued by my pirate brother?” She shook her head. “I do not understand this…this America. I do not like. How does my brother do this?”
Aurèlie slightly shook her head. What could she offer? She knew less about Jordan than his sister. “You sailed when?”
Colette looked upward as if trying to retrieve her memory. “I don’t remember everything, I was injured and much sick afterward. But I left France because my husband die. My brother’s wife died and left him to raise a little girl on his own. He had a daughter in need of mothering, and I had a need to mother a child. I was told she is so lovely, n’est pas?”
“Elle est belle, oui.”
“I am most anxious to meet her.” Colette continued to pace, jostling her baby in her arms in an effort to calm the child. “If we get there.”
Aurèlie continued to nod and smile, stifling a sense of sudden loss that crushed her heart.
She loved Maisie so very much but Colette would take her rightful place in Jordan’s household. As his sister, she would be the mistress of Jordan’s plantation and a new mother for Maisie.
“When I sail last, we were attacked by pirates, though not Donato de la Roche, and well…the rest you know. I speak good English, truly I do. My father taught me, but much out of practice. I will improve, non?”
“That is good.” Aurèlie watched the baby’s arm flail about as Jordan’s sister paced the cabin floor. “We are past the danger now. I hold your baby and let you rest, n’est pas?”
“Oui, cela est bon.” Colette handed the bundle over to Aurèlie before collapsing on the bed. “But…he’s good to me.”
Her comment hung in the air for a moment before Aurèlie understood. “Donato de la Roche was good to you?”
“Oui. I was much grateful for his rescue.” Colette slowly closed her eyes. “He is a good man.”
After a moment of silence, Colette took a deep breath and drifted off to sleep.
Aurèlie held the small child in her arms and sank into a chair near the table of the small room. In only seconds, the child quieted and closed his eyes.
She suspected Jordan would find it in his heart to care for the boy and raise him properly, but would he be the new heir to Yellow Sun? All that Aurèlie was to give to Jordan in return for Yellow Sun, had suddenly fallen into his domain without her. Had she lost?
“You are handsome, little one, n’est pas?” She gently kissed the baby’s forehead and when she looked up Jordan stood in the doorway of the cabin. She started, not sure why, maybe it was the intensity of his expression.
Jordan strode forward and ran a hand over the boy’s head. “Is he well?”
“Oui.” Aurèlie looked up at Jordan as he stood over the child and her. Her voice choked up but Jordan seemed not to notice, his attention on the child. He hunkered down next to her, getting a closer look at the baby.
“He looks like her.”
Aurèlie nodded; it was all she could muster. This was supposed to be her scene, holding Jordan’s baby and being the child’s mother. Jordan ran a gentle finger down the baby’s face. As her heart pounded with a need to touch her husband, she felt mystified as to how and when Jordan had stolen her heart. Every thing she had vowed not to lose sight of—her love, her heart, and her hopes—were now wound tightly around the man who knelt before her.
“He doesn’t know who he is,” Jordan whispered, breaking into her thoughts.
“He cares not, I think.”
Jordan looked up to meet Aurèlie’s gaze. He drew a deep breath. “Aurèlie, I should not have made you take such a journey, but without you—”
Aurèlie placed a finger across his lips, struggling to keep her hand from playing through his hair, stroking his face. “Papa Legba spoke to you, did he not?”
“I couldn’t tell you that. I don’t know. I just knew she was there.”
“That is how it works. You trusted your intuition.”
Jordan shrugged, then rose to his feet. For some reason she sensed he was anxious to leave her when she so longed to have him near. She reached out and touched his arm, having not spoken with him since Colette’s rescue. He hesitated.
“I wish to ask, are you all right?” Her voice sounded strained to her, as if they were two strangers speaking for the first time.
He nodded, slowly pulling his arm out of reach. Her hand fell away from the one thing she wished to hold more than anything: Jordan. But something had changed. She closed her eyes. Things had so drastically changed with the rescue of his sister. Aurèlie shook her head trying to ward off the thoughts that seemed to grow in number and find new ways to haunt her. So much had changed in just a few hours.
“We should
be home by tomorrow night, just in time for Christmas. I’ll sleep on deck. Let me know if she needs anything…or you.”
“Oui, Jourdain.” Aurèlie nodded, waiting for him to leave. As soon as he stepped through the door, the tears skimmed her cheeks. In spite of everything they had shared, something had changed.
…
“Sail up! Sail up!”
Jordan grabbed his spyglass, searching the direction the lookout pointed. “Damn it, it’s Donato de la Roche and he’s gaining fast. Looks like he knows what’s onboard.”
Loul grimaced. “So we outrun? We have a lot at stake here.”
“Aurèlie, Colette, and her son, not to mention our lives.” Jordan gauged the weather, checking the wind of his enemy. “We are at full sail, can’t outrun that sloop but if we have to come about, we’ll sail too close to the wind, too dangerous.”
“We’re confident in your skill, brother.” Loul nodded toward the men, many of the crew watched the discussion atop the helm. “We have to make a stand.”
“We have women onboard.”
“All the more reason. We have to fight.”
No one moved. The full sails caught the wind and billowed out like the overhead clouds. The ship raced the waters, cutting clean through the rolling sea.
“Order, Captain?” the helmsman called out.
To go into battle was too dangerous to consider, but Donato de la Roche was on that ship. If anyone had taken Maisie, Jordan would drain the whole damn ocean to find her. Donato de la Roche would most likely do the same for his son. The situation offered only two choices: be the hunted, go helm up and try to escape, or be the hunter and starboard right bringing the ship dangerously close to the wind. A maneuver that would catch Le Roche unaware.
In order to succeed at such a reckless maneuver, he’d have to wear the ship with enough caution not to bring the mainmast down on them. If he brought her about too quickly in the eye of the wind, they’d be locked in irons and become the rabbit snared.
Hating his decision, but knowing it to be their only hope, he turned to face the helmsman. He raised his arm. “Rap full. Prepare for coming about.”
Loul flashed a large smile as the men raced to their stations.
“Loul, send word to the women to brace for a hard turn. Hoist the colors and clear the decks. Two men forecastle, grab those jibs. Two to the foremast and two leeside, see to the main mast.”
Jordan paced the helm as Le Vengeur made headway, waiting for the men to be ready. As they did, the devil ship, cruising at ten knots, closed the distance between them.
“Five and closing,” the lookout shouted from the crow’s nest.
Close enough. After one more weather reading, Jordan nodded to Loul. “Reef the sails and haul aft!”
The ship groaned as men hauled in tack and sheets, drew tension on the bowlines, and released the lee staysails. Water splashed over the main deck, whipping the ship with a sharp, blistering spray as the stern kicked about.
“Ready about, Captain!”
Jordan pointed at the helmsman. “Starboard!”
The helmsman wrestled with the tiller. Another man joined and pushed her hard to starboard. “Helm’s hard-a-lee, Captain!”
As Le Vengeur’s head passed through the eye of the wind, her sails shivered, lines snapped back and forth against the tackle and block. Within minutes the topsails backwinded against the mast, slowing her headway.
Jordan pointed to the men waiting around the main and mizzenmasts. “All hands, let go and haul!”
Water poured over the gunwales as the stern continued to kick about. The stays barely held as the ship pitched into the hollow of the growing waves. Arms grappled for the lee braces but waves crashed over the main deck, sweeping the men across it.
“All hands let go and haul.” Jordan raced to the mainmast and grabbed a rope. Men came from other parts of the ship, trying to catch the lee braces before the wind put Le Vengeur in irons.
The waves careened against the massive hull broadside as the stern briskly brought them around on her heel, directly into the eye of the wind. The sails flattened against the mast, they lost headway as water flowed over the main deck, striking the mainmast. The helmsmen pushed the tiller to larboard. Men scampered up the mast and worked to shorten the sails.
Jordan checked the position of Donato de la Roche with the wind. He had full sails and as Le Vengeur fell into irons, the devil ship attempted to maneuver broadside for a rake. Floundering, Le Vengeur had become prey but Jordan refused to think he’d made the wrong decision. Oddly enough, he had faith in his mission.
“All hands, haul. Man the bow, be ready to fire.”
Again the men grappled for the shrouds of the mainmast. The devil ship started to round Le Vengeur’s bow.
Damn. Jordan waved to the gunners. “Fire!”
The explosions jolted Le Vengeur but struck the devil ship broadside. Jordan glanced up, the sails were beginning to billow when suddenly they exploded with the power of the wind, giving Le Vengeur headway to charge through the water and ram the devil ship broadside.
The instant the ships collided Jordan knew, he had his prize. The fight he had been searching for the last two years was at hand. He had found the man who had taken his sister and killed his father. He pulled out a pistol and prepared to board. Vengeance pumped through his body with a deep-seated burn that only revenge would soothe. Soon, he’d meet Donato de la Roche—face-to-face.
“Jourdain?”
Jordan nearly jumped hearing Aurèlie behind him. “My God, what are you doing out here? Get below, Aurèlie.”
She shook her head and tugged on his sleeve. “I speak with you.”
“Not now.” He moved away from her, shouting orders as more and more men climbed over the ropes and gunwales to board the other ship. He glanced back at her. “Aurèlie, I’m ordering you to return to the cabin.”
“We speak, or you will forever regret what you do.”
Jordan halted his motion, then shouted for Loul to take over. Taking Aurèlie by the arm, they hunkered down at the foot of the binnacle that housed the compass. “What must I know?”
“You wish for revenge, but he is not the right man.”
“He had her.”
“He rescued her.”
“He kidnapped her, and he’s a damned pirate, for God’s sake—”
“She was sold to him. He’s the father of her child and she cares for him but he did not kidnap her. He, too, like you, seeks vengeance against the French for all he has lost. But if it is vengeance you seek, you have the wrong man, non?”
“No. How could she care for him? She had no choice but to let him bed her—”
Jordan suddenly stopped and stared at Aurèlie as the picture cleared in his mind, the reality of it dampened his spirit, confirming his thoughts since Colette’s rescue.
“You understand how she feels?” he asked. “Because you have suffered the same fate?”
Aurèlie shook her head, but before she could answer a cheer among the men suddenly broke into their conversation.
“She has struck, Captain!”
Slowly the colors came down.
Donato de la Roche and his devil ship had surrendered. The victory was somewhat hollow, knowing the man caved rather than risk injury to his son…or Colette.
“Captain of Le Vengeur, my ship struck, do you give quarter?”
Jordan stepped into view and raised his cutlass. “I do not.”
“You take my ship and cargo?”
“Aye.” Jordan stepped closer to the gunwale. Before him stood the man he had spent the last two years searching for, imagining repeatedly in his mind the satisfaction of sweet revenge, to see the man’s blood on the end of his cutlass, to fire a flintlock through his skull.
His heart hammered against his chest and the palms of his hands felt damp. For two years, he had chased an illusive pirate who hadn’t been a corsair, but a Spaniard. He could hardly think, driven only by a need to satisfy his yearning for v
engeance. Maybe he hadn’t been the one to kidnap her but he had kept her and he knew her family searched for her. He’d take the pirate’s ship and booty and reap the rewards.
“You, the master of Le Vengeur, a formidable foe, but fair man.”
Jordan didn’t like the direction this was going. “Aye, this is why you will get as you deserve.”
“Allow the dying man his last request. I knows you have my son and Senora Colette.”
Jordan started to shake his head when he caught sight of Aurèlie, hovering near the gunwale. She peered over the top and watched the proceedings.
Revenge pumped through his veins, thickened his blood, and put every nerve on edge, but something unexplainable was holding him back, as if he was in mid swing of the cutlass and someone had caught his wrist. He knew the man’s last request….
He nodded to Loul. “Keep them under guard.”
Jordan strode across the main deck, down the companionway and within seconds he was standing face-to-face with Colette in the captain’s cabin.
“This is dreadful, non?” she said. “The fight over?”
“It’s over, but he’s asked for a last request.”
“Last request? But he is alive, non?” She seemed relieved, placing a delicate hand to her heart. “And that is?”
“To see you and his son.” As Jordan expected, she had only a slight reaction, as if that was of no surprise. “I will oblige, if you wish it.”
“I do not wish,” she whispered, her voice cracked with emotion. “Tell him…tell him that I will send word of where I settle when I am ready.”
Jordan sighed, barely keeping the thought of revenge from ravaging his body with a burning need to explode. “Do you wish to leave him?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
Tears filled her eyes, she quickly wiped them clear. “I do not know. I have been so lost and now found. I must return to who I was, non? But…Jourdain, I do not wish Donato harm. I was much grateful for him. You can do this for me, oui?”
At that moment, Jordan understood. She was in love with the man so he had no choice but to give quarter to the most deadly pirate on the open seas.