"It is dangerous isn't it?" Judah smiled. "The only danger I see for me ... is you."
"I am serious."
"So am I."
Sensing that Judah did not want to talk about his mission, she changed the subject. "I am glad you are taking me with you."
His hand slid over her soft shoulder. He dared not tell her that he was taking her with him because he didn't trust Sebastian not to harm her if he left her behind. He could not even chance leaving her with his grandfather, for he feared Sebastian would find a way to get at her.
"Will the war be over when we return?" she inquired, absently winding a strand of his golden hair around her finger.
He drew in a deep breath. "I hope so, Liberty. I saw things today that I want to forget. I never thought I would say this, but I admire and respect the English for the way they fought. They came at us out of the mist, and they kept coming even though our men kept cutting them down. They stepped over the dead bodies of their own and still kept coming. I have never before seen, nor do I ever expect to see, such bravery. They had to know they were going to die."
Liberty clasped him to her as if he were a child who needed comforting. He was so brave and daring that it was hard to think of him having any weaknesses. She knew tomorrow he would have pushed his troubled thoughts aside, but tonight he needed her.
"Judah, I suppose many good men were killed today on both sides. That is war, and it will continue to be so as long as one man covets what another man has."
He smiled. Already the pain of the day was beginning to fade from his mind as he was caught in her web of warmth. "So young and so wise," he murmured, moving his mouth across her face and finding her velvety-soft lips.
Judah slid his hands through her silken hair, and Liberty's blood rushed through her. Then, as his hands moved over her naked flesh, she wondered if she would always feel this earth-shattering desire each time he touched her.
As if he had read her mind, he said, "I die inside when I am near you and cannot touch you, Liberty. My body aches to possess you. Never keep yourself from me." His whispered words were threaded with agony.
Liberty closed her eyes, not fully understanding what he needed from her. She sighed as she allowed her sense of touch to take over her being. Judah might not love her, but he had to recognize how perfectly their bodies complemented one another—he had to.
Liberty had been at sea for three weeks and she had loved every moment she'd spent aboard the Winged Victory. She relished the feel of the rolling deck under her feet, the invigorating aroma of salty air.
Her days were spent learning about the ship and what made it work; the crew was only too happy to explain their duties to her. Sometimes she would go below and help Ira, the cook, or just lie in the captain's cabin, reading one of Judah's books. Several times Judah had allowed her to take the wheel, and he was teaching her some shipboard terms.
Liberty gloried in the feeling of power she got from turning the wheel at a spoken command from Judah. She could see now why men went to sea; nothing could match the exhilaration of being master of one's own fate.
Liberty was even beginning to believe her father had been right when he had said she would one day bloom into a flower. Under Judah's gentle guidance, she was indeed blooming and becoming pretty.
While her days were spent in happy pursuit of new adventures and in learning, her nights were spent in total bliss. Judah, the patient lover, introduced her to joys of the body and the spirit that she had never dreamed existed. When she lay in his arms after he had made passionate love to her, she wished they could sail on forever and never reach land. As long as they were on the Winged Victory, Judah belonged to her.
The Winged Victory had now reached the West Indies. Her voyage had been blessed with bright sunny days and star-kissed nights. As she sailed past several small islands, Liberty tried to guess which of them was Martinique. Apparently none, because the ship sailed on, and there was no sign that she would weigh anchor.
Liberty stood on the deck, glorying in the beauty of the sunset. The sun's dying rays, cast against the ocean, turned the white-capped water a sparkling golden color, and the snow-white sails of the ship billowed atop a dark wine-colored sea. At that moment the hull of the ship lurched upward, as if in a dramatic attempt to touch the sun.
Liberty's eyes moved over the Winged Victory, loving every inch of her, from the top of her sails to the companionway that led below. Every man on deck had a duty to perform, and each took his task seriously. Liberty had learned that the crewmen were equally committed to having fun when they were off duty. They danced and lifted their voices in song. Now, however, the sail maker was mending a torn sail, two men were lashing down the cannons, and Philippe was taking wind readings.
Judah stood at the wheel, his legs widespread and his eyes staring straight ahead. The gentle wind ruffled his golden hair. Since the weather was so warm, his sleeves were rolled up, revealing his bronzed, muscular arms. His white shirt, open at the neck, exposed the golden hair on his chest, and Liberty's heart leapt when he turned his turquoise eyes on her and smiled with a promise of things to come.
She opened her arms wide and turned her face to the heavens, embracing the dying sun and wishing this day would never end. Her heart was so filled with happiness that she couldn't imagine being anyone but herself. She pitied any woman who did not have Judah for her husband.
"Land ho!" came the cry from atop the crow's nest. "Home port dead ahead."
Liberty's eyes excitedly moved to the west, where she saw an island that appeared to be a huge green emerald sparkling in the sun. She turned to Philippe who had just come up beside her. "Did he say 'home port,' Philippe? I assumed Boston was still home port to the Winged Victory."
"No, not since Judah's cousin had the authorities looking for him."
"Oh, oui, of course. Judah has still told me very little about this island."
Philippe smiled, loving the childlike shine in her eyes. He bowed gracefully to her. "May I offer my services, Madame? What would you like to know?"
"Everything."
Philippe's laughter reached Judah's ears, and Judah smiled, appreciating the close relationship that had developed between his first mate and his wife. Philippe kept a protective eye on Liberty.
"I will try to cover as much as I can in the limited time we have before we anchor," Philippe replied. "With all due modesty, however, I admit to being very informed about this island."
"What crops does she produce?" Liberty asked, for she was a planter's daughter.
"Ah, demon rum is her chief export. It is made from sugar cane that is produced here. Besides that, there are coffee, cocoa, cinnamon, and mahogany."
"I'm impressed. Tell me about the terrain."
"You will find it ranges from salty, barren land to rocky, mountainous terrain, and even arid rain forest."
"Tell me where we are going?" she pressed.
"Oh, no Madame. If the captain has not told you about that, he must want to surprise you. Therefore, I will not be a party to ruining his surprise."
As the Winged Victory drew nearer to Martinique, Liberty feasted her eyes on the breathtaking scene. The island appeared to be sleeping lazily in the sun. From its rock-strewn shores arose spectacular mountains —volcanoes. In the distance she could see palm trees and lush green vegetation.
She expected Judah to drop anchor, but instead he skirted this side of the island and made for the west side. While he stood at the helm to navigate due to the tricky tide, Philippe remained at Liberty's side and directed her attention to points of interest. "You will find Martinique as French as New Orleans, Madame? he said. "The Creole girls are very beautiful here." His eyes danced merrily. "I have always found French women most beautiful."
Liberty's laughter was musical. "I am sure that would have nothing to do with the fact that you are French, would it, Philippe?"
"Perhaps . . . perhaps it would have a great deal to do with it," he admitted.
"Are you
from France, Philippe?"
"Oui, Paris."
"Do you ever want to go back?"
"No. I have all a man could want in life. If I had stayed at home, I would have become a cobbler, and I'd never have known the adventures I have experienced aboard the Winged Victory. I am a contented man."
"But you must have family still living in Paris."
"I have a brother and a sister. My sister lives in Boston, while my brother, Pierre, is the captain's foreman here on Martinique."
Liberty looked up at her husband, who was issuing orders which were speedily obeyed. "Some men were born to the sea, weren't they, Philippe?"
He followed her eyes. "If you are talking about the captain, don't be too sure. I believe a gentle hand could keep him on land and make him like it."
Her eyes were wide and apprehensive. "Do you really believe that?"
"If I did not, I would not have said it," Philippe assured her. Gently taking her chin, he turned her to face the quiet cove the Winged Victory was now entering. "You are home, Madame."
Liberty watched in amazement as brown-skinned natives dove into the water and swam to meet the ship. She laughed delightedly when they did tricks in the water to amuse those aboard.
"Who are they?" Liberty asked Philippe.
"They work for the captain," he informed her.
"Are they slaves?"
"No, the captain does not approve of slavery, and there is no slavery on this island."
"Oh," she said, not really understanding. There were some fifty heads bobbing in the water. Why would Judah need so many men to work for him? Her eyes followed the path that led up the grassy slope, and she caught her breath at what she saw. The house that dominated the small cove looked very much like many of the plantation homes of Louisiana. It was built of white rock and had galleries all the way around the first and second floors. Belvederes topped the roof to give panoramic views of the surrounding countryside and the harbor.
Her eyes sought Judah's, and he smiled down at her. She took a step toward him and another. Then, forgetting where she was, and that there were many pairs of eyes watching them, Liberty ran up the quarterdeck and threw herself into Judah's arms. "It is beautiful, so beautiful," she cried.
He laughed delightedly as he hugged her to him. "Welcome home, my lady wife," he told her.
23
Sebastian glanced around the elegant salon of the Purple Peacock, without really hearing the sound of babbling voices. This had once been the favorite gambling establishment for the young Frenchmen of New Orleans. Now Sebastian hardly recognized anyone. Since the American victory over the English, the place had become overrun with the American rabble. Creoles now sought their pleasures where they would not have to be under the same roof with the ungentlemanly Americans.
Sebastian leaned into the table and lifted his glass to his lips. He still frequented the Purple Peacock, because he had found it easy to take money from the Americans. They seemed to fancy gambling with a real Creole, and he had been only too happy to oblige them.
Sebastian had bitterness in his heart, and a need for revenge still burned inside his gut. Everything he had ever wanted was now lost to him. He had talked with his attorney that day and had learned that Bandera had no chance of inheriting Briar Oaks, even if Liberty were to die. The plantation would go to Judah because he was her husband.
Raw smoldering anger dominated Sebastian's every thought. It was not fair that Judah had everything and he was left with nothing. His lip curled in contempt when he thought of Bandera. Too late he had discovered that no one ever possessed Bandera. She was shallow and self-centered—a real bore when it came to intelligent conversation. And she was even more boring in bed, never seeming to acquire new tricks from her varied lovers.
Sebastian's eyes sparked with desire as he thought of the beautiful, desirable Liberty. She was everything a man could want in a wife. He imagined the heights a man could reach if he were to possess her. Yes, Judah had it all, and Sebastian had been left with nothing—nothing! Sebastian knew his days at Briar Oaks were numbered. He would have to be gone before Judah returned, because his cousin would demand satisfaction from him. Sebastian had no intention of facing Judah over a dueling pistol.
Suddenly, Sebastian's attention was drawn to the stairs, and his eyes widened in admiration of the beautiful, auburn-haired woman who had just entered. She appeared to be in deep conversation with a gentleman who looked vaguely familiar. The pair turned to look at Sebastian, and then the man left and the woman descended the stairs with such grace that she seemed to float on air. Sebastian decided that she must be new in town, because he had never seen her before. He watched her pensively look around the room, and then to his surprise, she walked in his direction. As she approached Sebastian's table, he saw that she was not as young as he had first thought, but beautiful nonetheless.
Her eyes darted nervously over his face, and then down to her clutched hands. He saw her distress, and he rose to his feet to offer her a bow and a smile. "Mademoiselle, how can I be of assistance to you?"
Adriane Pierce had been apprehensive about approaching Sebastian, and she was relieved to find him to be responsive to her. "My name is Adriane Pierce. You were pointed out to me as Mister Montesquieu, Judah Slaughter's cousin, sir. I wonder if I might sit and talk to you for just a moment? I promise I will not take up much of your time."
Sebastian was at his most charming. "I can assure you that my time is yours. Please be seated."
He held a chair for her, and she sat down; then he snapped his fingers to summon a waiter. Sebastian gave his order in French, and, when the waiter departed, turned his attention back to Adriane Pierce. "So you are a friend of my cousin, Judah? Did you come here from Boston?"
"Yes, I arrived only yesterday. No one seems to be able to tell me where I can find Judah. The proprietor of the inn where I am staying was kind enough to point you out to me. He said you might be able to help me—I am desperate!"
Sebastian smiled inwardly. He didn't have to be told that Adriane Pierce was, or had been, Judah's mistress back in Boston. The lady didn't seem to know Judah was married, or she did not care. "Have you heard nothing from my cousin, Mademoiselle?"
"No, nothing. Not since he left Boston three years ago. Several months back, I heard indirectly from his mother, and it seemed she didn't know where Judah was either. I fear he may have met with some terrible fate. I could not go on not knowing what had happened to him . . . and I could hardly contact his mother."
Sebastian saw the anguish in Adriane's eyes, and he leaned forward, placing his hand on hers. "Let me put your mind at rest. Judah has come to no harm. In fact my wife heard from a friend only yesterday that Judah is in Martinique."
Relief showed on Adriane's face as she shook her head. "Where is Martinique?" Her clipped Boston accent massacred the French name.
"It is an island in the East Indies."
"Oh, I see."
"We expect him to be away for some time."
"I wonder if it would be proper ... no, I could never consider going to this island to see Judah."
Sebastian was trying to think of a way to turn this meeting to his best advantage. This lovely charmer just might be the tool he needed to lay another trap for his cousin, but this time he would have to proceed very carefully. Sebastian did not want to make mistakes that would again give Judah the advantage. Apparently Adriane had not heard that Judah had taken a wife. His eyes gleamed brightly as he began to spin his lies.
"Adriane Pierce," he said thoughtfully. "I have heard Judah speak of you often." He smiled and released her hand. "He is very fond of you, you know?" Adriane Pierce would help him destroy Judah!
"I do not delude myself about that, Mister Montesquieu. If Judah cared anything about me, he would surely have gotten in touch with me before three years had passed."
"I happen to know he would welcome you with an open heart. How would you like to travel with me to Martinique?"
Adriane looked at
him suspiciously. "I do not know what you think of me, Mister Montesquieu, but I do not go off with gentlemen I do not know."
"Oh, no, no, Mademoiselle, you misunderstand me. I am a happily married man. It is just that my cousin has been most unhappy lately. I believe you could bring joy to him again."
Sebastian's lies made Adriane's eyes sparkle. "Do you really think so?"
"Indeed I do." He lowered his eyes and stared at the large diamond on her finger. "Of course, it will cost a great deal of money, and I am not a wealthy man."
"Mister Montesquieu, I am a singer by trade, and I have never wanted for money." She stood up, her elation evident. "How can I thank you for your kindness? You have given me new hope." Adriane had never been able to forget Judah. No other man had fulfilled her as a woman, and she could not wait to be reunited with him.
Sebastian came to his feet and took her hand, raising it to his lips and softly kissing the tips of her fingers. "I always like to see a lovely woman smile."
"I must be off so I can make arrangements right away. Thank you again for your kindness, Mister Montesquieu."
Sebastian felt a plan forming in his mind, a plan that might help rid him of Judah for all time. He would strip Briar Oaks to the bare walls to get money for passage to Martinique. "As it happens, Mademoiselle. I have been wanting to see Judah, myself. I believe I will go to Martinique with you, so you will have an escort."
"But your wife—"
His eyes narrowed to slits. "My wife has the same feeling for my cousin that I do. We both would do all in our power to see that he has all he deserves."
Liberty discovered that the house had just recently been built and that Philippe's brother, Pierre, had sparsely furnished it just prior to their arrival. As she moved from room to room, making notations on what furniture was needed, she felt she was doing something to please Judah. He had asked her to furnish the house as she saw fit, and had assured her that money was no object. She had decided on lemon yellow walls in the dining room, and a mahogany table and buffet, made by the local furniture makers, would add just the right touch.
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 36