Freedom's Price

by Christine Johnson

  No one came racing above decks to challenge him. Nonetheless, Tom kept one hand on his dagger.

  “She’s moored to the trees ashore,” he reported. “Probably anchored as well.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Rourke called across the narrow gap.

  Soon the crew of the James Patrick would have the two ships lashed together, as if undergoing a salvage operation.

  “Sail her out of here.” That response came to mind first, though Tom had no idea what he would do then.

  “And leave Miss Haynes to her own defenses?” Rourke pointed out.

  Tom swallowed his disappointment. He mustn’t act rashly. He needed to take everything into account.

  “The owner might take offense,” Rourke added, “and send the law after you.”

  “Then he will put his own thievery on display. I have the documents proving Pa owned this ship.”

  Rourke crossed to join Tom aboard the black ship. “Suppose the thief is no longer the owner?”

  That possibility had never dawned on Tom. Mornez—or DeMornay, if that was his true name—might have sold the vessel. Except . . .

  “Boyce all but said that DeMornay is the owner.” He stared at the huge tree just inland from the riverbank. It looked familiar. At last he recognized it as the blackened oak that gave the Lafreniere plantation its name. “Moreover, we’re practically on Black Oak plantation. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the tree marking the boundary. This is Pa’s ship.”

  “Then why hide it now, all these years later? The landing is a short distance away.”

  “Because DeMornay knows I’m here and will look for it.”

  “Or this cove offers better protection than the landing,” Rourke mused.

  Tom bristled at Rourke continuing to offer alternatives. “I can show you proof, a mark I made when a lad.”

  “You think it would still be there?”

  “Even Pa never found it.” Tom moved to the quarterdeck. Railings would be sanded top and bottom. Not the underside of the bottom step. He dropped to the deck and lay down to examine it. “Can I use your lantern?”

  Rourke handed it over.

  Tom had to hold the light close to make out the initials he had carved into the wood as a boy. TW, with the W upside down atop the T like a crown.

  He scooted aside. “It’s there. My initials.”

  He explained the configuration to Rourke, who took a look.

  The man groaned as he rolled to a sitting position. “Then it is your father’s ship, but you can’t stoop to stealing it.”

  “Stealing from a thief isn’t stealing.”

  Rourke got to his feet. “Is that what the Good Book says?”

  Tom knew better. Theft was theft in God’s eyes. No conditions.

  “There’s nothing you can do tonight anyway,” Rourke pointed out. “We don’t know these waters well enough to take an unknown vessel downriver in the dark.”

  “You expect me to leave Pa’s ship when I’ve just found it?” The very idea galled Tom. “It’s been ten years. I can’t just leave.”

  “Can’t you? What is more important? Doing what’s right or ensuring justice on your terms?”

  Something pricked Tom’s conscience. He shook it off. “Justice has gone unserved for too long. From what I’ve heard, folks around here will welcome real justice.”

  “They will appreciate it even more when they can see that justice carried out before their eyes, not in the dead of night.”

  Sometimes Rourke could be too overbearing.

  “I have to do this,” Tom insisted.

  Rourke clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, but you can’t sail this ship by yourself, and I won’t lend you any of my crew. We will take this to the proper authority.”

  “By then it could be too late. Even now DeMornay might be planning to move the ship.”

  “Then we will find it, but we must not stoop to thievery.”

  “He destroyed my father.”

  “Will taking this ship bring your father back?”

  “No, but—”

  Rourke cut him off with a single uplifted finger. “To whom is your allegiance, Tom? No man can serve two masters. You know that well.”

  “I’m not after money.” But Tom knew what Rourke meant. Though the Scripture referred to the love of money, it could apply to anything that took precedence over God. Such as revenge. “It’s not a sin to seek justice.”

  “How do you plan to find it?”

  Tom ran a hand along the well-polished rail. He’d looked for Pa’s ship for so long. Now that he’d found it, Rourke was asking him to give it up.

  “You know the right course,” Rourke urged, “and where the wrong one leads.”

  He would not demand that Tom abandon his vengeful plans. Instead, he laid out the consequences.

  Tom’s resolve began to crumble. “Prison, pain, death.”

  “Seek life, son.” Rourke added the final blow. “Miss Haynes needs you.”

  18

  Catherine paced before the windows of her darkened bedroom. The evening’s events had left her too curious to sleep. What document could the judge possibly have for her? Did it have to do with inheritance or something else entirely?

  DeMornay had answered her questions with unusual frankness on the carriage ride home. Henry was an attorney by trade. He needed to do business in the city and thus had left the plantation to DeMornay’s care. His younger brother, Emile, commanded a regiment in Tennessee. He too had no interest in the plantation. There were no other cousins.

  Catherine recalled Maman’s regret. She had missed her mother, Catherine’s grandmère. She was lonely. She had chosen to live in a foreign land and lost her family as a consequence. Catherine had come to a foreign land hoping to regain that family.

  Memories swirled with the exotic scents and sounds of the dance. Though DeMornay had called it a country dance, it bore no resemblance to the pastime she had enjoyed on occasion. The dances were different and the ladies a swirl of bright colors. Gaudy even. Other than the initial greetings, only the judge spoke to her. The rest talked of her—she was sure of that—but none extended a hand of friendship.

  So different from Key West, where the citizens opened their homes to her and the other passengers on the Justinian. Just thinking of Elizabeth brought a smile to her lips.

  “What would you do?” she whispered into the darkness.

  The night air could not answer. Even Aurelia, if she lurked in the shadows, did not betray that she’d heard. No, the night carried no comfort of human voice.

  Restlessness had plagued her days and tormented her nights. How she longed to speak to Tom or Elizabeth. One day in Key West surpassed a week at Black Oak, and that troubled her. Though DeMornay had softened toward her, even insisting Maman’s portrait hang above the salon fireplace, she could not shake the sense of foreboding.

  How long must she wait? Days had passed with the slowness of a snail. Much needed to be done to restore the plantation, but she could do nothing without her cousin’s approval.

  Tonight she leaned out the window and breathed in the sultry night air. A broad halo surrounded the full moon. Did that moon look also on Tom and Elizabeth and Rourke? Would anyone have the answers she needed?

  Clunk.

  Something struck the veranda beside her window.

  Catherine looked around and saw nothing. Perhaps it was her imagination. Though no trees overhung the veranda, perhaps some nut or twig had found its way to the porch.

  Clunk.

  The second occurrence was not imaginary. “Who’s there?” she hissed.

  No answer, naturally.

  “Goodness. Get control of your imagination.” She walked to a different window.

  This time the moonlight revealed movement near the pigeonnier.

  Tom! He’d promised to return with news. Was he back? If so, he would meet her there. Unless this was a trap. Her skin prickled. What if DeMornay had overheard their plans and even now was
leading her into a trap where she would have no means of escape? More and more that man frightened her. What had happened to the housekeeper before Aurelia? Where were all the servants? His explanations didn’t soothe her. She could not see beneath his polished surface, and experience had taught her that trouble lurked in darkness.

  Even so, she donned her slippers and made her way out of the house and across the yard. The door to the pigeonnier was ajar.

  “Tom,” she whispered into the black interior.

  A hand clapped over her mouth at the same time another pulled her against a tall, masculine form.

  A scream shot up her throat, but it was stifled by the man’s hand.

  “Be quiet,” Tom whispered into her ear. “It’s me.”

  She relaxed, and one second later she wanted to punch him for frightening her so.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  He pulled her into the pigeonnier. “We’re being watched.”

  Again her skin prickled. “Who?”

  “I’m not certain, but whoever it is, they’ll know I’m back.”

  “Aurelia wouldn’t tell DeMornay.” But even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t be certain. The housekeeper confided nothing and was wary of everything. Catherine’s hope lay in one certainty. “She fears him. That’s why she told us to leave.”

  “Under duress, a person will reveal anything, especially to someone who holds the power of life and death over her.”

  Catherine sucked in her breath. “He could do that?”

  “From what I’ve seen and heard, yes.”

  “Surely my cousin wouldn’t approve of such a thing.”

  “Your cousin has no interest in the plantation beyond its profitability.”

  Catherine eagerly clawed for more. “You did meet with him, then. You told him about me. Is he coming here?”

  “I’m sorry, but he acted like he’s never heard of you. He thinks you’re a fortune seeker.”

  The words crushed the last hope she’d harbored. No one wanted her here.

  “A fortune seeker.” She shook her head. “What fortune? I can’t see much of value here.”

  “That’s not what he believes. He is confident the plantation makes a handsome profit.”

  “How can that be?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “If only I could look through the accounts.”

  “You haven’t had a chance to look?”

  Catherine had to admit she had not. “DeMornay keeps the study locked. Even the windows are latched from the inside. I did look for the items on your list, but I couldn’t find any of them.”

  “That’s disappointing. But I found my father’s ship. It’s moored just inside Black Oak boundaries.”

  “It is?” Catherine’s heart sank. She’d hoped there wouldn’t be a connection between the theft of the ship and her family plantation, but more and more it appeared there was. “Maybe my cousin doesn’t know about it.”

  “He might not.” Tom paused. “I asked if the plantation had a ship, and he acted incredulous that I would even think such a thing.”

  “At least he’s not involved.” She didn’t want to think ill of her cousin.

  “He doubts you even exist.”

  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, cousin Henry, who must have been very young at the time Maman left, would have believed whatever his elders told him.

  “The family not only claimed Maman died but erased her from the record.” That put Catherine in a very tenuous position. “They will never accept me.” The realization hurt.

  “You can prove it with the records you brought.”

  “But what good will the baptismal record do when Maman is listed as Lisette Haynes? It comes down to my word.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Oh, Tom.” She leaned against him as her heart swelled. Who had ever trusted her that much, even endangering his life for her sake? “What have I gotten you into?”

  He lifted her face with a finger beneath her chin. “You have gotten me farther than I could ever have gotten on my own.”

  Though he surely meant that her desire to rejoin Maman’s family had led to the discovery of his father’s ship, she lingered a moment in the tenderness of his embrace. If only it were that simple. If only their lives weren’t so different. If only her future wasn’t tied to liars and thieves.

  “What do we do?”

  His lips swept close to hers. So close that his words tickled her cheeks. “We press on.”

  “How?”

  “The judge. I will speak to him in the morning, tell him about my father’s ship and where it’s hidden.”

  “He is coming here late tomorrow morning. You can speak to him then.”

  Tom leaned back to look at her. “The judge is coming here?”

  “He has some sort of document for me, something my uncle entrusted to him.”

  “I can fetch that for you, but you need to get out of here. Tonight. It’s too dangerous to stay.”

  A large part of her wanted to do just that. She could run away from everything with Tom at her side.

  But she twisted from his arms. “I can’t. I have to see the document myself. The judge wouldn’t entrust it to anyone else. I won’t leave until I see it.”

  “We could stop by his house on the way to the ship.”

  “Titchwood is more than a mile inland. It isn’t on the way to any ship.”

  Tom held her. She could feel and hear his desperation. “We will take the time to get it. You’re the most important thing in my life. Leave with me now, while you still have the chance.”

  She almost agreed. Almost. Then she remembered Maman’s portrait and the love her mother had for this plantation. Too many questions remained unanswered. “I can’t. Not yet.”

  How could Tom make her see that this place would destroy her? She had lost her home in England and was clinging to this as the only possibility for a new home. Yet it wasn’t. Based on how Lafreniere acted, Black Oak would never be hers.

  “Your family doesn’t even recognize you.”

  She turned away.

  Tom tried another tactic. “I’m afraid something illicit might be going on here. Smuggling, using my father’s ship. No doubt DeMornay is in charge. You are in danger here. Leave with me.”

  “And go where?”

  “To the James Patrick.” Tom grasped her by the shoulders. “Rourke is here. He has a full crew. We can leave this place.”

  Even in the dark he could feel her shaking her head. “I can’t. This is my home now.”

  “Home isn’t a place. It’s the people who love you.”

  He heard a sob escape her lips. She felt alone. The realization crashed on him like a severed mast.

  “I love you.” The words escaped his lips without thought, though the moment they were out, he knew their truth.

  She gasped. “But you know so little about me.”

  “I know enough.” He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her close. No woman had ever felt as perfect as Catherine. “I know you are strong and determined and witty and spirited. I know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. From the moment I first saw you looking me in the eye through the windows of the Justinian, I could not get you from my mind.”

  “But you don’t know me.”

  He cupped her chin and gazed into eyes that reflected the pale moonlight that sifted through the open door. “I want to learn everything about you, to spend a lifetime exploring every tiny thing. Why one corner of your mouth tilts up a little higher when you’re amused. When your eyes are dark as a forest and when they’re bright as an emerald. What makes you laugh and how to take away the tears.” He swiped a thumb across her cheek.

  She shivered. “You’re simply saying that so I will leave with you.”

  “No, I mean every word,” he whispered, so close to her face that he could feel her breath against his cheeks.

  Her lips were so close, so tempting, so perfect.

  “I thought of you
throughout each day,” he whispered, letting her melt against him. “I couldn’t bear being separated, wondering what had happened to you, if he had harmed you.”

  “He didn’t.”

  That eased his conscience a little, but not the desperate urge to claim her. He cradled her chin between his hands and lowered his lips. The first brush sent a thrill through every nerve. She did not object, so he lingered longer, claiming her as his own. Then she responded, and he lost his head.

  Fortunately, she broke the kiss and stepped away.

  His heart raced as if he’d run from the Key West harbor to the far side of the island. He swiped at his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Her voice was soft and languid as slack tide. “I missed you too.”

  “Then come away with me.” He caught her hand. “Leave while you still can.”

  “I can’t. Not until I know what Judge Graham has for me.”

  “I told you. We’ll stop there first.”

  She shook her head and backed away. Before he could react, she’d slipped through the pigeonnier door.

  He stumbled after her and grabbed at her hand but missed. She hurried across the lawn. He followed only a few steps before halting.

  DeMornay stood on the staircase, a lantern in his hand. “Catherine! I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

  Had DeMornay seen Tom?

  Catherine’s heart pounded. She could not turn back, lest she betray Tom’s presence. She must walk forward as if glad to see DeMornay when that was the last thing she felt.

  Tom’s kiss still lingered on her lips. She should have left with him.

  “Miss Cate.” DeMornay glided down the steps. “I feared something had happened to you when Aurelia said you were not in the house.”

  The unfamiliar nickname grated on her nerves, but she brushed it off for Tom’s sake. She must draw DeMornay into the house so Tom could escape.

  “I came out to look at the moon.” It was a flimsy excuse, since she had come from the direction of the pigeonnier, whose interior afforded no view of the night sky. “Then I decided to walk about the yard since I was restless.”

  DeMornay lifted the lantern to peer at her, likely to ascertain the truth of her statements. “You could have come to me. I was working in the study.”