Chapter 14
Kathleen was under a great deal of pressure, and her nerves drew taut. Torn between an attraction she could not deny yet did not want to give in to, and an irresistible longing to be held in the arms of a man who cherished her, she wavered between despair, shame, and an uncontrollable desire she heartily wished would dissolve.
The strain of constantly fighting her conflicting feelings led her to be much more bold and daring when they at last returned to sea. It was as if she were daring death to claim her, laughing in the face of Fate, tempting the dark spirits to touch her. In her outrageous fearlessness, it was as though she were thumbing her nose at danger and flirting with death in the most impudent manner possible.
It made Jean cringe to watch her. She took the most outlandish chances, sometimes deliberately letting her guard down in battle, then fending off her enemy’s sword scant seconds before his blade could find its mark. Her defiant laughter, quite unlike its usual merry tinkle, would dance across the waves, causing gooseflesh to rise on many a neck. Her feet were nimble, her body fluid, her emerald eyes fever-bright as her rapier flashed. Not a movement was wasted, not one foe spared.
Word of the bold piratess was once again spreading across the Gulf and Caribbean. Tales of her prowess and daring circulated throughout the islands and along the coasts. That she gave no quarter was certain. Fellow pirates admired her, many jealous of her skills and awed by her fierce vengeance. All feared her, even those few who dared to dispute some of the most amazing of the tales about her. None wished to be on the receiving end of her anger and her swift, singing blade. Some had begun calling her the Angel of Vengeance; the Enchantress of Death.
Even Pierre, in his intense malevolence, had to admire Kathleen’s courage and skill, however grudgingly. Her extreme daring drew a reluctant regard even from her most implacable enemy, though Pierre took care to conceal his admiration lest she sense a weakness in him and taunt him for it.
Jean and Kathleen were becoming the most notorious and feared marauders of the seas. Their monumental success lay, not solely in their famed mastery of fighting skills, but their varied and innovative methods of capturing enemy vessels. They never concentrated their efforts in any one area for long, thus lessening the chances of their own capture.
As the weeks wore on, the ease of their success made Kathleen even more daring. Dominique and Jean were horrified when she decided that while the Pride and the Emerald Enchantress would remain hidden, she would dress in a revealing cut gown and launch out alone in the dinghy, pretending to be the only survivor of a shipwreck. Kathleen played her part to perfection, but the dinghy had drifted further away from her hidden frigate than she had calculated, and the British sloop that “rescued” her nearly made off with her on board before Jean and Kathleen’s crew could arrive in the very nick of time.
On the heels of that escapade, she and Isabel hatched an equally dubious scheme. This time, Isabel was to be the lure. Gowned in a torn, bedraggled dress, she was to pose as a lone woman marooned on an island. Standing on an open stretch of beach, she would be easily spotted (though the two ships concealed nearby would not). When a vessel dropped anchor to save her, the Pride and Enchantress would rush out and capture their prize, with no danger to Isabel at all. This ploy worked so well that they used it several times afterward, though Isabel complained that it took her out of the thick of the action. This suited Dominique quite nicely. Though he had to admit that Isabel could protect herself well, and fought as well as many men, he found his heart lodged in his throat each time she faced an armed opponent. The very thought of her being harmed caused the blood to curdle in his veins. Wisely, he kept his worries to himself, enduring the pains of the damned in his own private hell. As Isabel strove to improve her abilities and prove her worth, he loomed protectively over her like a burly watchdog, silently daring anyone to harm the woman he loved.
Isabel was softening in her attitude toward Dominique. On the rare occasions when he was not guarding her back, she missed his powerful presence. Since she had come to understand how gentle he was with Kathleen and with her, she had ceased to notice his ugly scars, seeing only the tender man behind the fierce countenance. Beneath his rollicking sense of humor, she discovered a sensitive, intelligent gentleman. By no means ready to let down her guard completely, Isabel was nonetheless beginning to admire the gentle giant who so openly offered his heart and his friendship.
While they were yet at sea, St. Valentine’s Day arrived. Kathleen was totally unaware of the date, until she awoke to find a note and a small gift on the pillow beside her head. The gift proved to be a twenty-dollar goldpiece strung on a gold chain. The note contained a beautiful poem, painstakingly authored by Jean, which conveyed his feelings for her, while not being too flowery in tone. Kathleen was both touched and dismayed. She spent a long while writing him a note to thank him for his thoughtfulness, at the same time trying not to encourage his attentions, nor to hurt his feelings.
St. Valentine did not forget Isabel, either. From Dominique she received a book of sonnets. On the foreword page, in Dominique’s large scrawl, there read simply, “To my dearest Isabel—Always, Dominique— February 14, 1814.”
Their encounters at sea were not always handily won victories. A few times, they nearly ran headlong into neatly set British traps. Immediately before these near-disasters, Kathleen always felt unnaturally uneasy, as did several of the others. Especially sensitive to invisible warnings in the air, Peg-Leg would hop irritably about, unable to settle on a perch. He would squawk and flap his wings, his tail feathers drooping pitifully. As soon as Kathleen became aware of the relationship between his unusual behavior and the occurence of a hidden trap, she came to rely on the parrot as an advance warning system. Peg-Leg and his antics served her crew well, saving their skins several times. Never again did any of the crew complain that the bird was a nuisance. Rather, he became their good-luck charm.
Not long after the middle of the month, a monumental change came about quite by chance, in the middle of a fierce battle with the crew of a Spanish brigantine. The crew were well-trained in defense and determined to defend their cargo. Kathleen had just defeated her expert challenger, when a sword came skittering across the deck to land at her feet. As she glanced up, she heard a triumphant cry in Spanish, and immediately knew one of her own men was in danger. The sight that met her eyes was a jolt, indeed. Pierre’s gaze left his lost weapon to cling to hers for a fraction of a second. In that single, brief glance, Kathleen and Pierre measured the situation and one another. Then Pierre’s attention was forced back to the armed enemy before him. Despite his slovenly appearance, Pierre was still fast on his feet. Nimbly he eluded his opponent’s thrust, dancing gracefully out of reach of the sharp blade.
For mere seconds, Kathleen debated with herself. Now was her opportunity to be rid of Pierre’s threatening presence forever. She could simply let the Spaniard take care of the problem, and no one could point the finger of blame. Even as she thought this, her conscience told her that if she let Pierre die, she could never face Jean or Dominique again. Regardless of his faults, they still loved their brother.
Swiftly, she bent and retrieved the weapon at her feet. Timing her moment, she called out sharply, “Pierre!” The sword left her hand before the single word was completed, sailing through the air toward the man who most wished to see her dead. Pierre caught the weapon deftly, immediately swinging into action. Minutes later, his opponent lay dying on the deck.
The battle was soon over. As Kathleen stood assessing the situation, Pierre approached her. “You saved my life. Why?” he stated boldly.
“Is this your way of thanking me?” Kathleen inquired dryly, meeting his gaze.
“Yes, I am grateful, but I am also wondering why you did it. Certainly, I never expected you to come to my aid.”
“If you are saying you did not deserve my help, I agree with you,” she snapped.
Pierre smiled. “Touché, Madam Piratess. The fact remains, y
ou saved my life regardless of our differences these past years. I cannot honestly say I would have done the same for you.”
Kathleen laughed harshly. “I may live to regret it.”
But Pierre disagreed. “No! You have placed me in your debt, and I find myself in the position of having to repay you.”
“What are you saying, Pierre?”
“You need not fear me any longer. My anger has spent itself.”
Again, she laughed. “At the risk of reviving it once more, I must tell you I have never feared you, Pierre.”
Pierre shrugged nonchalantly. “So you say. Still, I think it is time we become friends.”
Kathleen eyed him skeptically. “Just what does being ‘friends’ entail, Pierre? I seem to recall a time when your desire to be ‘friends’ resulted in near-rape and a duel with Reed that nearly cost his life!”
Pierre waved a broad hand. “That is the past.” Then he smiled ruefully. “Perhaps I was a bit overzealous, but my brothers would have my head if I tried the same thing now —particularly Jean. Besides, I no longer see you in the same light as I did then. I was judging you by the same measure as the other women I had come to know about the island at that time. After you nearly destroyed my sword arm, I was determined to see you pay for my pain.”
“You brought it on yourself when you tried to stab Reed in the back,” Kathleen reminded him.
“I did not look at it like that then,” he admitted.
“And now?” she insisted.
Again he shrugged. “Now is too late to concern myself with the right or wrong of past deeds. Today I offer you my friendship—nothing more. I wish to forget the hatred between us and fight together as allies against a common enemy.”
“Forgive me if it is difficult for me to trust your words, Pierre,” she said dryly.
“I shall prove that you can trust me,” Pierre insisted. “I owe you my life, and it is not a debt I take lightly. From this day, I shall fight at your side and join my brothers in seeing that no harm befalls you.” He offered his hand. “Friends and allies?” he proposed.
For long seconds she stared at the proffered hand. Then she looked him straight in the eye. Gone was the usual glare of hatred and lust. His hazel eyes reflected only an honest, genuine gratitude that rang true. Slowly her hand met his strong grasp. “Friends and allies,” she repeated, then added for good measure, “Do not give me reason to regret this decision, Pierre Lafitte, or you need not fear your brothers. There will be little left for them to do after I have finished with you!”
“I will keep it uppermost in my mind,” he said with a wide grin, then sobered. “But you need not worry. When Pierre gives his word, he keeps it.”
Later, Dominique cornered her. “What was all that between you and Pierre earlier, Kathleen? He wasn’t giving you trouble, was he?”
Kathleen grinned. “No, my friend. In fact, Pierre has decided that we should bury our animosity and join forces. He offered me his friendship.”
Kathleen enjoyed the amazed look that crossed Dominique’s features, knowing the feeling well. “Friends?” he echoed.
“So he says."
“Why?” Dominique demanded, a deep frown creasing his tanned forehead.
Kathleen chuckled. “I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that I saved his worthless hide this afternoon.”
“Why?”
She laughed outright. “Is that the only word you are capable of, Dominique?” she asked.
“It is just that this turn-about is so sudden,” Dominique explained, shaking his head.
“Which? My saving Pierre’s life, or Pierre wanting to make amends?”
“Both!” Dominique exclaimed.
“Well, to ease you confusion, I must confess I helped Pierre only because he is your brother, and I could face neither you nor Jean if I deliberately let him be killed,” Kathleen told him. “Now I must hope it was not a mistake on my part. Pierre swears he will prove that I can rely on him.”
Dominique mulled this over. “I, too, have doubts, but once Pierre swears his allegiance, he is fiercely loyal. I fear you are stuck with him, cherie. He will defend you to the death.”
“Yes—but mine or his?” Kathleen wondered aloud.
“Time will tell,” Dominique said. He lounged against the ship’s rail, eyeing Kathleen speculatively. “Speaking of time, ma petite amie, how long are you going to leave Jean dangling? He is very much in love with you. I have not seen him so taken with anyone since his wife Rachel.”
Kathleen groaned. “Everyone seems determined to throw me into Jean’s arms! The world is full of matchmakers these days—even you, Dominique!”
“Don’t you care for him at all?” Dominique asked gently.
Kathleen sighed and leaned her elbows on the top rail, staring deeply into the waters below. At length, she spoke. “Yes, Dominique, I care for Jean, but I have no right to do so. Guilt and shame are eating me alive!”
“Because of Reed?” he asked.
Kathleen nodded. ”I feel I am being unfaithful to Reed, even though he is forever gone from me. Others tell me I am foolish to go on feeling this way, but I cannot seem to help myself. I loved him so much!”
Dominique’s arm came comfortingly about her shoulders. “I know you did, little sister. What you are feeling is entirely normal, but you cannot let it destroy the rest of your life. You seem to forget that Reed and Jean were the closest of friends. Do you honestly think Reed could condemn you for finding love again with his best friend? Reed loved you, and he was like a brother to Jean. Would he not wish for both of you the happiness you deserve?”
Tears swam in her emerald eyes. “I don’t know, Dominique! It seems I know very little these days— except that I am thoroughly confused. It just seems too soon.”
“Perhaps time is the remedy to this dilemma also,” Dominique suggested. Then he laughed mirthlessly. “I am hoping it will solve my own problems with Isabel, as well.”
“There is always room for hope, Dominique, and with patience you can win Isabel, I think,” Kathleen said.
‘‘As Jean will win you?” he asked.
‘‘I don’t know. I just do not know. There is so much to consider, and I need time to think.”
From that day on, Pierre became one of Kathleen’s most staunch defenders. Even Jean was surprised at the loyalty his brother displayed. It soon became apparent to everyone that this was not merely a passing fancy. He took his debt to her very seriously, and devoted all his considerable energies proving his trust and friendship. Kathleen could not have shaken him loose from her shadow if she had wished to. Now that she was finally assured that Pierre’s offer of friendship was not a trick, and that he had overcome his lust and desire for revenge, she found herself growing to like him a little. His loyalty was admirable, his laughter contagious, and his cock-of-the-walk attitude amusing, though he hid his intelligence beneath a slovenly facade. While Jean maintained the image of a gentleman privateer, Pierre preferred the role of ruthless pirate, playing the part to perfection, and loving it.
After a month at sea, they decided it was time to return to Grande Terre to allow Jean to catch up on business there. The island was every bit as beautiful as Kathleen remembered it. Vividly colored flowers and birds delighted the eye, and delicate butterflies flitted among the blossoms and greenery. Soft sea breezes wafted floral and tangy ocean scents. Puffy white clouds dotted the brilliant blue sky, and the sun sent down its blessings nearly every day. If Eden was half as lovely as this tropical paradise, Kathleen thought Adam and Eve must have deeply regretted losing it. For the first time since Reed’s death, Kathleen was fully appreciative of the beauty about her. It was a spectacular place, indeed—one she had come to love during her short stay here with Reed just after their wedding. With the overpowering beauty came the pain of remembrance; but it was a bittersweet pain, and she bore it gladly. With poignant heartache, she recalled their time together in this tropical paradise so right for young lovers.
Passing the tavern and warehouses on the docks, she remembered how she had found Reed with Rosita and been so blindly jealous. At the slave arena, she stood imagining the night it had been transformed for the fiesta, and she had entranced Reed by dancing for him. Walking by the bay, she remembered Reed’s amazement when she had rescued the beached dolphin and frolicked with it in the water.
Nearly everywhere on the island, sweet memories assaulted her, but most of all along the sandy shore where she and Reed had often strolled on sun-dappled days and moonlit nights. Her heart yearned for him so in this idyllic heaven of bright colors, soft scents, and balmy breezes, that Kathleen almost fancied Reed alongside her. Often she felt that if she should turn suddenly, she would find him there; tall, dark, and so achingly handsome, his blue eyes out-sparkling the sea. . . . Lying on the sun-warmed sand, she could almost feel his presence as she vividly recalled their lovemaking on this very spot. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his touch, his lips blending with the light caress of the sea breeze; hear his deep voice and loving laughter over the chatter of the birds. It was both torment and joy as she relived her precious memories one by one and made Reed come alive once more.
Unlike her first visit to Grande Terre with Reed, this time Kathleen resided in Jean’s house instead of one of the cottages nearby. His home was large, airy, and comfortable. Though not overly opulent, it was decorated with taste and a sense of understated dignity that seemed a perfect reflection of its owner. The furnishings were of the finest quality, with several notable paintings and objets d’art casually displayed. One look was enough to tell anyone that Jean’s wealth had been used to provide comfort and a warm, welcoming atmosphere.
Ashes and Ecstasy Page 21