"Please," Judah dismissed Etienne's gratitude. "It was nothing. To speak of it further will only cause me embarrassment."
"It is I who suffer the embarrassment, gentlemen," the Englishman, Admiral Sills, Stated. "I thank you for your kind hospitality, but may I ask what you have in store for me and my men?"
Judah nodded. "I will tell you of my plans tomorrow. Rest assured that none of you will come to harm." Judah stood up. "I have given you my own cabin, and I hope you will pass a restful night there. My first mate, Philippe, will show you to your quarters."
"May I see my men so I can be satisfied as to their well-being?" Admiral Sills asked.
"Yes. Philippe will take you below so you can see that we Americans do not misuse our captives."
The admiral looked at Judah, respect evident in his pale blue eyes. "I have fallen into the hands of a kind enemy, sir." Bowing stiffly, he turned to be led out of the room by Philippe.
"What are your plans for the English admiral and his men?" Etienne Banard inquired.
"I am not sure at this time. You will help me decide later."
"Again, I am grateful for your intervention today. I will always know that I owe my life to you," Etienne declared passionately, his French nature coming to the fore. "If ever you are in need of a favor, you have only to ask and I will immediately oblige."
A smile smoothed Judah's brow. "You can start by calling me Judah."
"And you will call me Etienne. I will be your friend for life."
"To good friends," Judah said, tipping his glass to Etienne.
"Will you drink a toast with me, Judah?"
"I will. What shall we drink to?"
"To the United States of America, and to President Madison. May we have a quick victory over our enemies."
Judah raised his glass, a sober look in his eyes. "To the land of my birth, may she ever be free!"
Ballard, the ship's cook, cleared away the dishes and the remains of the meal, while Judah poured Etienne a glass of brandy. The Frenchman waited until Ballard had left the cabin before he asked, "What do you plan to do with the English ship, Judah?" He smiled. "I am just curious."
Judah took a sip of brandy before answering. "I will tell you later. Right now I want you to look at something and give me your opinion on it." Reaching behind him to a shelf on the wall, Judah picked up a parchment and unrolled it. "As you can see, it has been burned around the edges. Apparently someone tried to destroy it."
Spreading the parchment out on the table, Judah motioned for Etienne to examine it. "My first mate found this in Admiral Sills's cabin. It appears to be a dispatch from London. See what you make of it."
Etienne eyed the document carefully, before whistling through his teeth. Quickly glancing at Judah, he shook his head, "It is hard to make out the exact meaning since it is so charred, but apparently it is from someone named Lord North. He seems to be very important."
"Yes, that is what I thought."
Etienne held the paper closer to the candle so he could read the words. "I believe it has to do with —Good, God! This talks about an attack on New Orleans! I am from New Orleans. Those bastards are going to try to take Louisiana!"
"That is what it looks like to me," Judah agreed, nodding slightly.
Etienne glanced up, excitement burning in his eyes. "It is imperative that this dispatch reach the proper hands. It could turn the tide of war in our favor."
"Yes, I agree."
"General Andrew Jackson would be the best person to receive this."
"I agree," Judah said, shaking his head. "The trouble is, where do we find him?"
"If you will trust me, I will take you to General Jackson."
Judah stood and propped his booted foot on the chair.
"We hear rumors about Andrew Jackson. Some say he is headed for Louisiana. It pains me to tell you this, but I would not exactly be welcome in Louisiana. I am a wanted man there."
Etienne's eyes clouded with disbelief. "What have you done that this should be?"
"To use an old, worn-out phrase, I was accused falsely." Laughter took the edge off his words. "You may not believe this, but I fell into a trap that was set by a woman."
"I believe that you are innocent," Etienne said earnestly. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Judah found himself telling Etienne about his trouble, taking care not to mention any names. After he finished, there was silence in the cabin until Etienne stared into Judah's eyes.
"I will put myself at your disposal and help free you of the false charges," Etienne stated with feeling. "I will tell the authorities what you have done today, and they will have to let you go free."
A smile twitched at the corners of Judah's lips. "I am afraid that will not happen, my friend. You see, I have powerful enemies."
"My father is also a power to reckon with. He is a judge in New Orleans. I know he will be grateful to you for saving my life, and will help clear your name."
"I would never ask a friend to put his good name on the line for me, Etienne. I will deal with my enemies in my own way. Nevertheless, I thank you for the offer of help."
"But if you are innocent . . .?
"I cannot prove my innocence." Judah's eyes lit up and he clapped Etienne on the back. "Do not distress yourself on my account. I will take care of the matter in my own good time. Until then, I am a prisoner of the past."
Etienne saw the dangerous glow that suddenly lit Judah's eyes, but the naked hatred he saw in them was quickly masked by indifference. He wondered at the power of the hate that had driven this man to privateering?
"When will you go back to New Orleans, and try to clear your name, Judah?"
"Soon, I think."
"My family will be giving the annual masquerade ball two months from now? Would that not be a good time for you to return? Everyone who is of any importance in Louisiana will attend. You would never be discovered if you wore a disguise."
Judah was thoughtful for a moment. At last he spoke in a soft voice. "Are you issuing me an invitation?"
"Indeed I am."
"Perhaps it is time I revisited my past. If I come, will you send an invitation to Briar Oaks Plantation?"
"But of course." Etienne smiled. "Since I am from New Orleans, I know Bandera Boudreaux very well. Would she be the one you want to receive the invitation?"
"Yes."
"I have not been home in over three years," Etienne said, "but I still remember how lovely Bandera was."
Judah was in no mood to discuss Bandera. "Come," he said, walking across the room. "Let us see about getting you a ship. If I know my men, and I believe I do, they will be begging you to take the Royal George off our hands. It is my estimation that they have all imbibed a dose of patriotism today and are itching to get into this war. When you take over the ship, you can also take the prisoners off my hands."
Etienne's eyes lit up. "The United States Navy could use men like you and your crew. We need all the good men we can muster. Why do you not enlist your services in our cause?"
"Understand me, Etienne, I love my country as much as any man. My father died in her service. But I am not yet ready to expose myself to my enemies. If I help the United States, it will be in my own way . . . and in my own time." Suddenly Judah's turquoise eyes twinkled. "Perhaps the way is through you, and the time is nearer than we think."
Judah was restless as he tossed and turned on the small cot that had been placed in Phillipe's quarters to accommodate him. He was dreaming, and in his dream, a soft hand touched his brow. He reached for the hand and raised it to his lips. Then love washed over him, and he trembled as he heard a woman's voice.
"I will not leave you, Judah. I will stay as long as you need me."
"I love you," he cried out, as he crushed her to him. "I have been in torment since I left you."
"I must go now, Judah. I cannot stay with you any longer."
"But you promised," he said, trying to keep her with him.
"I must go," she said, disa
ppearing.
Judah felt empty inside. He yearned for her return. "I love you, Liberty. I will always love you," he called out, as the sweet scent that she had always used came to him.
Startled by her departure, Judah was jarred awake. As he sat up and glanced around the darkened room, he swore aloud. "Damn! What is the matter with me?" The dreams were becoming more and more frequent. And why did he always call out to Liberty when she was just a child? Why was he never able to find another woman to satisfy his deep yearnings?
As always, guilt settled on him for desiring the sweet, innocent Liberty. She was like a fever in his brain. It was strange and disturbing that, when asleep, he dreamed of Liberty, yet upon waking, he thought only of Bandera. Judah knew he would not sleep the rest of the night, so he quickly dressed and went up on deck. He found Philippe at the helm, and sent him below to his cabin.
Then he stared out over the calm ocean at the big, bright moon that turned the waves a shimmering silver. He was helplessly caught up in an unreal world, hopelessly in love with a dream that had two faces —one, that of a woman who had betrayed him, and the other, that of the sweet child, Liberty.
As Judah looked up at the moon, he could see a shadowy likeness of Bandera's face. "Why?" he said aloud. "Why did you betray me?"
Suddenly Bandera's face faded into a childlike image— Liberty. In the silver splendor of moontide, Judah felt his heart skip a beat. "Liberty, why do you haunt me? You are nothing but a child. Why will you not let me be?"
13
Bandera had refused to come downstairs, so Alicia huddled before the fire, trying to ward off the chill she felt in her bones. At times like this, she missed the splendor of Bend of the River, where an army of servants had been available to fulfill her slightest whim. Here at Briar Oaks there were only two house servants, and they were always doing menial tasks instead of tending to her comfort. There was no end to her troubles. Alicia hadn't had a new gown in over a year, and though she had never gone hungry, there was never a feast like those she had enjoyed at Bend of the River. This was a house oppressed by poverty, she thought miserably.
Then, as if she didn't have enough problems, war was practically on their doorstep, and it seemed that her son and Bandera did not have an ideal marriage.
Last evening, because Bandera had been told that there was no money for a new costume for the masquerade ball, she had stormed out of the dining room. No one, not even the servants, had been safe from her verbal onslaught.
Alicia's hand trembled when she handed a steaming cup of tea to Sebastian. "I fear your wife is still having her little tantrum this morning," she said quietly. "We will just have to humor her until she forgets about her disappointment. We cannot afford to offend anyone here, for if we do, Liberty might order us to leave."
Liberty was seated across the room, polishing a pair of silver candlesticks, and Sebastian had been staring at her.
He knew she would be sending the silver ornaments into New Orleans to see if they could be sold. Many of the Boudreaux treasures had gone on the auction block in New Orleans.
Liberty was dressed in pink, and she was so lovely that Sebastian realized he was staring at her. He glanced back at his mother. Remembering Bandera's bad behavior, he slammed his cup down, spilling the hot liquid on the rosewood table. "You humor your daughter-in-law, Maman. I am weary of her stalking off to her room every time she does not get her own way." Sebastian raised his voice so Liberty could hear. "Bandera has been spoiled excessively, and is intolerable to live with."
Liberty turned to Sebastian, her eyes spitting fire. "You would do well to remember that Bandera is your responsibility now. Look to yourself for the solution to her tantrums."
Alicia gasped at Liberty's angry statement, but Sebastian only smiled, his eyes raking Liberty's soft curves. "I seem unequal to the task of quelling Bandera's ill humor. Perhaps you could deal with your sister better than I."
Liberty felt a prickle of pity for Sebastian. He had discovered that marriage to Bandera was not all he had dreamed it would be. He must have thought that his uncle would finally give in and allow him and Bandera to move to Bend of the River, but that had not happened. They must be content to live at Briar Oaks until such time as Monsieur Montesquieu relented, though Liberty doubted he ever would. She almost wished Judah's grandfather would ask Sebastian back. She was weary of trying to keep peace between Bandera and Sebastian, and she was equally weary of listening to Alicia's constant complaining.
"I will see if Bandera can be reasoned with," Liberty said, pouring a cup of tea and wrapping a sugar cake in a thick white napkin. She could feel Sebastian's eyes on her as she moved out of the sitting room and into the hallway. She ascended the stairs, knowing he was still staring at her, and when she reached her sister's and Sebastian's bedroom, she rapped softly before pushing the door open.
Even though it was a bleak, damp December day, there was no fire in the fireplace, and there was a chill in the room. Bandera was huddled beneath the covers, shivering.
"It is about time someone came in answer to my summons. I could freeze to death around here and no one would care."
Liberty placed the tea and cake within Bandera's reach, then went to the woodbin. She gathered an armload of logs and placed them on the grate. "If I know you, you have probably frightened poor Oralee away. You could get out of bed and light a fire yourself, Bandera."
Bandera dabbed at her eyes. "How would you feel if you were unable to have a new gown for the masquerade ball."
"The gown I am wearing is one of the your castoffs. I am going as Queen Elizabeth, in your old costume. In case you haven't heard, Bandera, there is a war going on. It would be in the poorest taste to have a new gown at this time."
Bandera took a sip of the tea. "I do not want to hear about that silly old war. And if I have to wear an old gown, I will not attend the masquerade ball. I would be mortified to be seen in a castoff, if I were you."
Liberty fluffed up her sister's pillow and then tucked the covers about her shoulders. "I feel no shame in wearing an old gown, Bandera. You can stay home if you like, but you will be missing all the fun."
"Who is taking you to the ball, Liberty?"
"I will be going with Madame de Boise and her daughter. As a matter-of-fact, I will be staying the night with them, and will not be home until late tomorrow afternoon."
"When I was your age, I wouldn't dream of going to a ball without a gentleman escort. I would have been too humiliated."
"Apparently it takes far more to humiliate me, Bandera. If you get out of bed, I feel sure your husband will be only too happy to escort you to the ball."
Bandera shook her head. "There is no joy in life anymore," she whined. "I find that I do not like being married in the least. I had envisioned it quite differently than it actually is."
"What you envisioned was sitting at the head of the table at Bend of the River. That may never happen."
"It will happen when the old man dies. Sebastian will have his rightful place someday."
"Beware, Bandera, you are beginning to sound like Sebastian's mother."
A pout tugged at Bandera's lower lip. "If you are going to insult me, you can just leave."
Liberty shrugged her shoulders. "Have your way, Bandera. You will be missed at the ball tonight."
"No one understands me since Maman died. I have no friends," Bandera cried, dabbing at her eyes.
"At one time I would have given much to be your friend, Bandera . . . but no more. I will always look after you, because our mother would have expected it. That is all you can expect from me, however," Liberty said, as she went to the door and wrenched it open.
"You have become cold-hearted, Liberty. You still blame me for what happened to Judah Slaughter. I have paid for that mistake."
"No, you have not yet paid, Bandera, but you will." Liberty left and closed the door behind her. She heard the teacup shatter against the bedroom wall, and she shook her head. Would Bandera never grow up?
The music was loud and the laughter light-hearted. For the moment everyone seemed to have forgotten that the British were just outside New Orleans. Gaily-clad ladies with silk masks moved among velvet-bedecked gentlemen, coyly searching for excitement.
Judah stood beside Etienne Banard, his eyes moving over the crowd, searching for the one person who had haunted his dreams for so long. "Are you sure they will come?" he asked his friend.
"The invitations were sent out. It is doubtful they would ignore this ball. Invitations are coveted by all, but only the elite are invited."
During the three weeks it had taken the Winged Victory to reach New Orleans, Etienne and Judah had become good friends. Etienne now knew the complete story of what had happened to Judah since he had left Boston. He knew that Judah was the grandson of Monsieur Gustave Montesquieu, and he had heard, from one of the ladies attending the ball, that Judah's grandfather and mother were still alive. He hesitated to tell his friend that until he was positive it was a fact.
Etienne had also not informed Judah that Bandera had married Sebastian Montesquieu. He realized he would have to tell him now, before Bandera arrived and Judah heard it from the lady herself. Perhaps when Judah knew the truth about Bandera, he would be able to put her out of his mind.
"Judah, I am loath to tell you a bit of news I discovered but this afternoon," Etienne declared.
Judah had been watching the dancers. He glanced back at his friend, dread in his heart. "What is it?" he asked insistently.
"Bandera is married to your cousin, Sebastian. I do not want to speak loosely of a lady's conduct, but I was told by a friend that she is not what one would consider a faithful wife. It is said that she is not selective in her lovers."
To Etienne's surprise, Judah only laughed. "Is that all? I couldn't be more delighted. My cousin will grieve more over losing a wife to me, than he would over a prospective bride."
With relief in his heart, Etienne surveyed Judah, who was dressed in black leather, from his wide shoulders to the toes of his thigh-high boots. A black velvet cape was carelessly thrown over Judah's shoulders, and he wore a black patch over one eye. His black plumed hat was pulled low over his forehead. Etienne smiled, thinking his friend looked very like the dashing privateer he was.
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 21