by Ava Bradley
He scowled. "I'll not fight with you, Adriana," he returned sharply. He turned and went forward without receiving the hurt expression he was certain she forced into her innocent little face. He strode across deck to help Henri hoist empty water barrels through the bow hatch.
"For the life of me, I don't understand how you've tolerated her silly antics all these years," he complained to the old man.
"Almost as difficult as bearing yours, my boy. Be nice to her, and she'll buy us dinner on the island tonight."
Christian took a breath and softened his tone. "I do not think it is wise for us to go ashore."
Henri stopped and eyed him. "You got nothing to worry about, Christian." The old man's gaze flicked past him to Adriana, but Christian wouldn't let himself be convinced to turn around. Henri lowered his voice. "I saw you looking at the estates on the hill. You've got to stop expecting the worst of her. She's not going to run."
He pictured it in his mind; Adriana fleeing into one of those rich hideaways where commoners like him were as unwelcome as the pox. It was like a bad dream. Could she really hate him so much she would flee the first chance she got? She'd kissed him, after all. She'd stared into his eyes like there was no one else on earth, and for a moment he was sure that for her, there wasn't. Surely she had some sliver of fondness for him? The idea she might not sickened him.
But why would she have any esteem for him? He was her captor, nothing more. He wasn't even so sure he liked himself anymore.
"Oui, you've never tasted flavors until you've tasted them in the islands," Henri said in a faraway tone, as if he could taste them now. "Besides, Mrs. Ling is tired. The poor woman has worked hard these past three days. She deserves a night off."
Henri put his back into the ropes with the strength of a man twenty years his junior while Christian steadied himself and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Why is it you don't look half as tired as I feel?"
"Bah! I'm used to the sea and her moods. She'll never get the better of me."
Mrs. Bailey struggled up the hatch ladder with a bundle of linens. "Oh this is disgraceful! I have even gathered them from Mr. Dupree's cabin and your father's," she cast a warning glance at him and Henri. "On the condition that neither of you ever utters a word about it."
Adriana chuckled as she helped her chaperone through the hatch. "Did you lay out clean linens?"
Mrs. Bailey's horrified look made Adriana erupt with laughter. "I jest, Mrs. Bailey. We are quite grateful and shall all be happy to lay out our own linens." She turned their way, and as her eyes met his she gave a smile brighter than the day itself. "Shan't we?"
Henri made a show of bowing like the royal guards at Versailles. "We shall."
He was glad to see everyone's spirits lifted, but Christian couldn't stop the familiar burn of estrangement. All his life he'd been the one who didn't fit in, and that itself had become a comforting feeling. Only now, he didn't want to be that person anymore.
"Will you be coming ashore with me for supplies?"
"If it's supplies we're after, add gunpowder to your list. The remaining kegs are ruined. It was a miracle we fired off that gun even once."
Henri laughed "In all my years aboard Lady Luck we've never fired them off for anything more than sport. But from this day forward you can safely bet I'll be watching those stores with a wary eye." Henri's humor sobered and he narrowed his gaze. "You sure you're all right? You look a little waxy, boy. Maybe you should stay here and rest."
"I will do my share of the work."
"Never mind. These men are strong. Stay aboard and enjoy a bath."
"Our captain does not allow it." Too late, he regretted his childish tone.
"Bah! We've got a full barrel remaining. If we empty it now, we can replenish it with fresh. Adriana!"
She stopped, halfway into the hatch behind Mrs. Bailey.
"Christian will stay aboard. He needs a bath. The lad smells worse than a beached whale carcass."
Christian held his breath, sure she would forbid it just to make him miserable. Instead, she smiled radiantly again, and this time it was aimed directly at him.
"We shall all bathe, but I shall be first!" With an excited giggle, she darted into the hatch.
* * *
The late afternoon proved to be even gentler than the morning. The ocean had grown still until her surface was like glass. The wind caressed Christian's face, soft and warm like a kitten's fur.
He lounged in the deck hammock all day under the shade of the sails, watching as the passel of workers Henri had returned with repaired the broken yardarm with amazing efficiency.
No wonder Edmund had hung this here, Christian thought as he watched a few cottony clouds slowly drift overhead. The hammock swayed opposite the gentle lolling of the ship with a reassuring squeak at each to and fro like the tick of a clock running slower than the rest of time. It was downright peaceful. He hadn't lain on his back and looked up at the clouds since he was a boy. Suddenly he didn't condemn Edmund for laziness, but recognized him as a busy man who knew the importance of relaxation.
A gentle breeze fingered its way through the rigging and Lady Luck rocked a lullaby. The sky was vibrantly clear, nothing like the smoky air in London, and occasionally a white seabird flew overhead.
The tropics were so pristine, nature in its finest form, raw and unblemished. Adriana was like that, he realized. She wasn't a hothouse flower, she was wild and free and when set in her element, thrived unhindered.
The tepid bath had renewed him and it felt wonderful to put on clean clothes, but still Christian felt as though he were carrying and invisible weight on his shoulders that pressed on his chest with every breath he took. Was this merely exhaustion brought on by honest work, or the after-effects of countless days of mal de mer?
Adriana stayed below all day, but when she finally emerged on deck, she was a vision that literally took his breath away. The copper colored crinoline gown she wore shined in the late afternoon sun like raw gold. He glimpsed one elegant satin spool heeled shoe and a slender ankle as she lifted her skirts and stepped onto the deck. Her hair had been twisted and looped and piled impossibly on her head. Lord, how he loved those tiny curls she let dangle free at her neck.
His breath caught as he noticed Starry Night glittering at her throat. What game is she up to? he wondered. Was she tempting him, challenging him, or showing that she trusted him?
She wore a peculiar expression as she crossed to the rail to stand before him. "Why Mr. De la Croix, you certainly do fine justice to my father's clothing."
He smiled, strangely taken aback. She had just complimented him! The trousers and waistcoat were a bit stodgy for his taste, more suited to an old man, but the velvet collared linen suit was finer than anything he'd ever owned himself. The silk shirtwaist seemed to glide over his skin with the appreciative caress of a sultry woman's adoring hand.
"I'm so grateful you've permitted us to go ashore this evening. The local people make a spectacular banquet."
With gut-pounding efficiency, the compliment was crushed as though it had never been. "Miss Montague, I thought I made it clear, I am not your captor. You are free to come and go as you wish."
Those brilliant blue eyes pinned him, more watery than the sea itself. She was stunning with those jewels shining against her smooth skin. A breeze slipped over them, taking one of those loose little wisps of hair and dragging it across the bare skin of her nape. That delicately flowery scent that reminded him of Montrésor in June washed over his senses, temporarily rendering him unable to control his limbs.
Her smile brightened. "Ah, Mrs. Ling. Thank you so much. Mr. De la Croix, you simply must try some."
Christian turned to find the tiny Chinese woman holding a tray of bright yellow cubes. "You try. No scurvy."
Adriana laughed at his expression. "She means it will help prevent scurvy." She gingerly plucked a cube from the tray with two fingers and popped it in her mouth.
"Good?" Mrs. Ling asked.
&
nbsp; "Excellent."
The old woman thrust the tray at Christian. "You like. I promise."
It certainly smelled unique. "If you insist." He picked up a small piece and sniffed it before placing it in his mouth. The stringy fruit was so tart it caused every taste bud in his mouth to tighten at exactly the same instant. It was like a lemon, but with a sharper bite. He was about to spit it out when his mouth reluctantly consented.
"Not to your liking?" Adriana asked as she plucked another piece from the tray. "Perhaps it takes some getting used to." Her lips glistened with the juices as she chewed daintily. "Here. Try another."
She picked up another piece and slowly lifted her fingers toward his mouth, holding his gaze, her eyes shimmering with that sly mischief he could never quite decipher. Good heavens, was she really going to feed him? Dimly he realized that meddling chaperone was nowhere in sight.
Christian's heart nearly stopped in his chest as her delicate fingers placed the fruit between his lips. He closed them around it, gently capturing the tip of one finger before she pulled away.
Did he imagine it, or was this piece sweeter? "I was wrong," he told her. "I like it very much."
Adriana smiled as she took a linen from Mrs. Ling. She dabbed at the corner of his mouth, always wearing that strangely forbidding, yet seductively enticing smile.
Adriana took a step back as Henri emerged from the hatch, followed by Mrs. Bailey. Mr. Ling followed behind them to lower the shore boat with the four of them inside.
"I borrowed some of yer father's clothes," the old man said sheepishly. "I figured the lad shouldn't be the only one dressed like a dandy."
"Mr. Montague will be quite displeased," Mrs. Bailey huffed.
"I'm sure my father will not mind," Adriana said. "And it is a pleasure to see you looking so splendid."
"Perhaps you are right, those clothes are already out of style," Mrs. Bailey said more gently. "Your father always generously donates his last year's clothing to the less fortunate."
Mrs. Bailey wore her standard high collared drab olive clothing, but her silvered hair was clean and neatly tied up and her cheeks were freshly scrubbed. Her bath seemed to have improved her mood somewhat, Christian noted, as her thin smile even passed fleetingly over him.
"Will Ollie be joining us?" He felt oddly out of sorts, nervous about just what might happen when they went ashore, and the happy face of a true friend would be comforting at dinner. He glanced up and Ollie, watching from the crow's nest, darted out of sight.
"Ah, the lad's shy about fussy events. He wants to stay aboard." Henri bowed and gestured with a hand. "Would you do me the honor of helping me row these two lovely ladies ashore?"
"I consider it a privilege," he said, casting a sly glance at Adriana. He held out his hand. "My lady."
"Why thank you, sir." She accepted and stepped daintily through the gap in the railing. Christian nearly choked on his own tongue as Mrs. Bailey reached for his assistance next.
"Thank you, Mr. De la Croix," she responded curtly. His stomach flip-flopped. In her own stern way, that was a genuine pleasantry.
He sat beside Henri at the front of the tiny boat and took the right oar. He was thankful Henri kept up a leisurely pace, letting the current gently carry them in. He kept his gaze on Adriana as she sat regally beside her chaperone, her back straight, a faraway look in her eye as she looked at the setting sun to the west.
Several local men ran up to the tiny shore boat as it landed on the beach.
"Allow me," Christian said. Before anyone could argue, he jumped into the shallow waves and pulled Adriana into his arms. She gasped in surprise, then settled happily against him, one arm draped over his shoulders.
"Mr. De la Croix, I can no longer call you an ill-mannered troglodyte."
He placed her gently down on the sand. "I'm certain I can find some way to renew the opinion of me."
He heard a shriek of disapproval from Mrs. Bailey, but turned around to discover the old woman's protest was from the two men struggling to heave her large body out of the boat.
"Don't fight them, you old cow," Henri shouted.
"For heaven's sake, let go of me! Goodness, I never." Mrs. Bailey pulled away from her helpers and straightened her rumpled dress. She struggled awkwardly across the beach. "Oh my, my shoes are filling with sand. There should be a path for ladies. This is most unpleasant."
Christian offered his arm and Adriana slipped her hand under his elbow. His wariness returned when he saw several crew of the Tigress, the ship that had pulled into the bay earlier that afternoon, already sitting at tables on the stone patio. A grizzled old man who, by his dress, appeared to be the captain nodded a greeting.
"Ahoy, Lady Luck. You're far from home." The man's eyes were darkly sinister.
"Ahoy, Tigress," Henri said cheerfully. "It has been quite a voyage, I'll say. Were you hit by that storm?"
"Nearly sank us. Saw you lost a mizzen royal." The man leaned over and spat on the ground in a most distasteful manner, even in Christian's opinion. "Where's your crew?"
His wariness leapt to life.
"Still aboard with my nephew and the galleys," Henri lied. Christian glanced toward the beach. Thankfully Mrs. Bailey was out of hearing range.
"Why, for heaven's sake, is that Lady Luck?" A frothy old man with a thick white mustache emerged from the shaded bar. He was finely dressed with a stodgy top hat, obviously Tigress's owner and one of Edmund's acquaintances.
"Miss Montague! I haven't seen you since you returned from London. How are you, my dear? You must meet my son. I heard you were engaged to that devil, Preston Weiss, but there's plenty of time to call that off, I dare say! Haw haw!" He grabbed both his lapels and rocked back on his heels, clearly delighted by his own wit.
Christian sank into a chair at the empty table. He no longer had the energy to keep up his ruse. Though the man was clearly sodden, he was certain the son was a bright young man who would see through Christian's deception.
One of the native men, a waiter Christian guessed, set down a bowl of some strange looking red and yellow tidbits and a pitcher of water. The fragile appetite that had only just appeared was gone again in an instant.
Christian swallowed down bitter bile as he met the Tigress captain's dubious gaze.
This masquerade was over, he was certain.
Chapter Seventeen
"Mr. Ranklin, how nice to see you. Are you enjoying your sojourn?" Adriana accepted the man's outstretched hand. Though Mr. Ranklin was somewhat known as a cad and only accepted in polite circles due to his enormous wealth, Adriana's new disrespect for the frivolous and phony views of upper society made her glad to see him. She almost felt a sort of kinship with him. "You know my captain, Mr. Dupree. This is our first mate, Mr. De la Croix and my chaperone, Mrs. Bailey."
Christian's face blossomed scarlet and his Adam's apple worked up and down in his throat. He probably anticipated she would confess her situation, and he would be dragged away in chains. Adriana was surprised to discover her desire to vex him had completely faded, and she actually felt sorry for him.
He shot to his feet and accepted Mr. Ranklin's handshake, then politely accepted introductions to the man's son, Bernard.
"First mate, eh? Perhaps I'll try and steal you." Mr. Ranklin winked at Henri and jabbed him with an elbow. "Our first mate jumped ship in Santo Domingo, the yellow bellied lamprey. I say, good officers are indeed hard to find."
Mrs. Bailey let out an unladylike snort and gave Christian a scornful grimace as he helped her into her chair. "They certainly are."
Though Mrs. Bailey looked quite silly, Adriana no longer found any amusement in the woman's anger. Christian had proven himself a pleasant enough kidnapper and she was growing tired of her chaperone's ceaseless poison. The nastiness was wearing on everyone's nerves. Adriana made up her mind to speak to her when they returned tonight. Mrs. Bailey wasn't so mean, surely she would find improving relations with Christian just as pleasant as Adriana did.
Mr. Ranklin thought her smile was for him and his mustache twitched. "Did you sustain much damage in the storm?" He rattled on. "I noted the repairs going on to your mizzen royal earlier today. Tigress lost her keel, confound it all. We shall be laid up here for a week. We were on our way to Rio de Janeiro. Where are you headed, my dear? Perhaps we might join up with you."
"Mr. Ranklin, I am sorry, we hadn't even planned to come this far south, the storm decided that for us. We leave tomorrow for Jamaica and then back to Florida. But if you'd like, we would be happy to take you on to Rio first."
In the corner of her eye, Christian bristled. Henri and Mrs. Bailey fell still and silent.
"Father," Bernard interjected politely. "The young lady's offer is quite generous, but it would be most selfish of us to accept. Miss Montague, I wouldn't dream of asking you to change your itinerary."
"Oh, no, of course not," his father agreed. "I wouldn't hear of it. Though I do appreciate your generosity, my dear. You certainly are your father's daughter."
She cringed inside and cast a furtive glance Christian's way. Whatever he was thinking, he hid it well beneath a crooked smile.
"Perhaps when we reach the states we could send help for you?"
Mr. Ranklin patted her hand. "There are excellent craftsmen here on the island. The delay will be an inconvenience, but I am quite certain we shall be repaired and on our way soon enough. However, I would quite enjoy it if you joined us for supper."
Adriana smiled, though inside she dreaded an evening monopolized by the chatty man. "That would be delightful."
Christian looked ready to crawl out of his skin as Mr. Ranklin helped her to a seat on one of the wooden chairs that served the outdoor dining table. A plate of breadfruit slices sat before him, but Christian hadn't touched it. The server brought more food, and everyone except Christian seemed interested. He scarcely sampled the sugared coconut, crab legs or even the mild-in-flavor grilled Sea Bass, all island delicacies.