Ashes and Ecstasy

by Catherine Hart

  As she clawed her way upward, Jean in tow, she defied the sea that might have claimed them both. “No!” she screamed silently. “I won’t let you have him! Not Jean, too! Not Jean, too!”

  At last they broke the surface, and now the huge waves buffeted them about, making it difficult for Kathleen to keep Jean’s head above water. They had surfaced near the ship, and Kathleen struggled to grab the line Dan threw to her. This she tied under Jean’s arms, about his chest. As several crewmen pulled Jean aboard, Kathleen labored up the knotted lines of the broken mast. Near the rail, she felt hands grab her roughly, hauling her the rest of the way to the deck.

  On hands and knees, Kathleen gulped mouthsful of air. Her weary body wanted desperately to collapse in a heap, but she had to find out Jean’s condition. She dragged herself to where several sailors knelt around him.

  Jean lay on his stomach, unconscious and still. “He’s not breathin’,” she heard Dan murmur.

  Rage alone dictated her actions then—rage at the sea and the storm, and the injustice of life that would take a second man from her just when she had discovered her love for him. Wanting to strike back at the world, she struck her fists instead against Jean’s broad, wet back. Again and again her fists pounded; and finally, when her abused hands would no longer form fists, she aimed her weak blows with the flat of her hands. “Not again!” she screamed over and over. “Not again!”

  Pity lined the tired faces of her crew as they watched Kathleen vent her fury and pain. No one paid any attention to Jean—until suddenly he began to choke.

  “What the . . .” Dan looked on in amazement, then hastened to stem Kathleen’s blows. “Cap’n K! Stop! He’s alive! He’s chokin’, but he’s breathin’! Quit beatin’ on him so he can catch his breath!”

  While the men aided Jean in expelling the water from his lungs, and brought the ship’s doctor to see what other injuries he had sustained before they attempted to move him, Kathleen sat back in shock and disbelieving joy. She was incapable of speech. Sitting huddled on the rain-washed deck, rocking mutely back and forth, her eyes never left Jean’s bedraggled form. Tears streamed down her face, and sobs shook her body as she prayed, and hoped, and watched a miracle unfold before her eyes. Now that Jean was alive and relatively safe, all the strength seeped out of her, and all she could do was weep great tears of relief and joy.

  The doctor examined Jean and found only a large bump on the back of his head. “You will have one devil of a headache for a few days, and you might have blurred vision or nausea, maybe a little dizziness,” he told him. “I want you to stay in bed for a few days and take it easy. No swordfights, no excessive activity, and no excitement. That spar hit you a pretty good blow, but after a few days’ rest, you should be fine.”

  Kathleen put him to bed with tender, loving care—in her bunk. Jean had not the strength to put up much resistance, beyond a groggy “This is ridiculous! Fussy old sawbones!”

  Kathleen, herself weary to the bone, slid carefully in next to him. “Ssh, Jean. You are not to get excited, my love. Save what little breath I knocked back into you, and go to sleep.”

  “Did you mean it?” he asked softly.

  “Mean what?”

  “Did you mean it when you called me your love, or did you merely mean your lover?”

  Kathleen smiled in the dark. “I meant it, mon amour. ” More softly, and in a voice filled with wonder, she said, “I love you, Jean. I love you, and it scares me witless. I thought I would die when I saw you slide overboard!”

  As if he had just realized it, he said in awe, “You dived in after me! That is what all the men were talking about!”

  “Of course I did!” she retorted sharply. “You didn’t expect me to just stand there and do nothing, did you? What was I supposed to do, weep and watch you drown?”

  “Don’t be sassy!” he barked back. “I am just saying it was a risk I would never have asked you to take.”

  “You didn’t ask. I made the decision on my own. Instead of growling, you should be thanking me!”

  Jean groaned. “I am grateful.” After a short pause, he asked, “Why are we bickering? We are both alive, in love, and together. We are two of the most fortunate beings on earth.”

  “I know,” Kathleen whispered past the lump in her throat. She cradled him close. “Oh, Jean! When I think how close I came to losing you, just when I had finally admitted to myself that I love you. You might have died before I got the chance to tell you!”

  “You decided this before the accident?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes. I realized it before I noticed you on deck. Then I couldn’t wait to tell you, and suddenly lightning struck the mast and the world fell apart.”

  “What about Reed?”

  Kathleen made no reply.

  “Do you still love him?” Jean persisted.

  “Of course I do! I will always love him, Jean, but that has nothing to do with my love for you. I have finally come to realize that what Eleonore told me is true—It is possible to love more than one man; each in a different way.”

  “Eleonore told you that?” he wanted to know. “When?”

  “A couple of months ago—the first time you took me to New Orleans. It was then she told me it would make her happy if we could find love between us. I was afraid she would be hurt by it, but she assured me otherwise.”

  “Eleonore is a wonderful woman,” Jean agreed sleepily.

  “And you are a wonderful man, but we are both tired and need our rest. We can talk more when you are rested.”

  “Tell me again that you love me,” Jean requested. “I want to fall asleep with the sound of your sweet voice saying those precious words.”

  “I love you,” Kathleen murmured softly. “I love you, Jean Lafitte.”

  They were only a day’s sail from Grande Terre by morning, so they decided to return to Jean’s base for repairs. During the time it took for a new mast to be fitted on the Emerald Enchantress, Jean rested and visited Dominique, who was recovering nicely from his wounds, thanks to Isabel’s tender care.

  Pierre decided this would be a good time for him to take a short trip to his home in New Orleans to see his wife and children. He had not returned by the time they wished to sail again, so they left without him. Dominique agreed to tell Pierre that they would return in a few weeks, and he could rejoin them then if he wished. Dominique and Isabel would take charge of things on Grande Terre until then, as Dominique was still unfit for travel or warfare, and Isabel would not leave his side.

  The weather was beautiful, perfect for sailing. The shock of the storm and Jean’s near-fatal accident soon wore off. Jean had secretly harbored the fear that Kathleen’s confession of love had been prompted by all that had occurred that terrible night. Now, with each day that passed, he grew more confident. It was a dream come true, and Jean reveled in it.

  As for Kathleen, now that she had made her decision, she blossomed like a spring flower in sunlight. Her joy was evident in her ready smile, a smile that heightened the green of her eyes to the color of a new leaf, and added a glow to her cheeks. She laughed more, and was much more relaxed than in days past.

  When Jean asked her to marry him, Kathleen accepted, but they agreed it was best put off until the war was over. Then they would travel to Savannah, and Kathleen’s children could meet Jean and become accustomed to the idea of a new father. This would give Jean and Kathleen time to decide where they wanted to live, and what to do about Chimera and Jean’s privateering base at Grande Terre.

  The Gulf waters shimmered like a dark jewel beneath the star-studded night sky and the moon shone brightly, a huge silver crescent. A balmy breeze blew softly, as if blessing them, as Kathleen and Jean stood at the ship’s rail and gazed at the wondrous beauty about them.

  “I love the sea like this,” Kathleen sighed, leaning back against Jean’s supporting chest. “I love her in all her moods, but especially this way. It is as if she is dressed in her finest black velvet gown, with diamonds sprink
led over it.”

  Jean chuckled, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I shall try not to be jealous, cherie.”

  Kathleen turned in his embrace, and looked deeply into his clear hazel eyes. “No need for jealousy, my darling. I still love you best.” Her fingers feathered into his thick brown hair, while her hands cradled his face between her palms.

  “Now and always?” he whispered into her hair.

  A shiver danced up her spine at his words, an unknown fear that she could not fathom. Reasoning to herself that she was probably still cautious in the face of so much happiness, she answered softly, “As long as the fates allow.”

  “You are shivering. Let’s go inside. I shall warm you with my love.”

  “Poor Peg-Leg!” Kathleen laughed. “He has a long night in the closet ahead of him!”

  There was a poignancy in their loving this night, for some reason. It touched both of them, as if neither could quite believe their good fortune. Kathleen clung to him as if afraid he would disappear at any moment. Kathleen knew how quickly joy could be taken away. It made their time together all the more precious. Jean seemed especially tender this evening, as if aware that life was too unpredictable to count on unending blessings.

  Jean’s lips worshipped her; his hands charting her body as if to commit each curve to memory; as if he felt that she might be taken from him at any time, and he needed to remember each small detail to perfection. He loved her tenderly and thoroughly, bringing her body to a quivering, molten mass of desire beneath his touch. Her sharp cries of delight and low murmurings stirred his passions as never before.

  Jean’s whispered endearments, his hands on her hot, craving flesh, held Kathleen spellbound in a web of desire, as waves of pleasure swelled over her. When he moved over her, uniting them in the final act of love, her body melted beneath his. They were like leaves caught up in a whirlpool, spinning ever faster until they were at last sucked into the center and drowned in a devastating current of ecstasy—yet Kathleen could not prevent the thought that bolted unbidden into her mind: “This moment will never come again. Time is slipping through my fingers like grains of sand, forever gone and irretrievable.” A sob caught in her throat, and she held Jean tightly to her, his head clasped close to her heart.

  His fingers found the moisture over her temples. “Why are you weeping, petite? What strange mood holds you tonight?” he whispered softly against her breast.

  “Oh, Jean,” she sighed tearfully. “Surely you feel it too, this heart-rending sadness?”

  “Oui, I too feel a certain uneasiness, as if we tempt destiny with our joy,” he admitted, “but let us not weave a cloud of doom where only sunshine exists. Let us enjoy to the limits all the love we are allowed to share. No matter what tomorrow brings, let us exult in one another now.” As if in precious promise, he made love to her again, driving all the shadows and fears from her heart and mind, leaving only the sweetness of his love to color her dreams.

  Kathleen awoke the next morning in the cradle of Jean’s arms. Again they made delicious, languorous love, taking time to satisfy one another’s needs, savoring the delight and rapture to the fullest.

  Content and replete, Kathleen went lazily about her business aboard ship. Satisfied to drift aimlessly through the crystal waters of the sunlit Gulf, she felt no immediate need to hunt down enemy vessels this day. Her urge for vengeance seemed suddenly spent.

  The first half of the day was idyllic—sunshine, warm breezes, a picnic lunch for two on the afterdeck. A school of dolphins even appeared to entertain them with their grace and playful antics. Laughter and love lulled them into rare peace of mind.

  Just past midday, that peace was abruptly interrupted. They had inadvertently crossed paths with a British warship on the prowl.

  Jean heaved himself to his feet, pulling Kathleen up after him. “I knew this was too good to last,” he groaned.

  That same peculiar shiver tingled along Kathleen’s spine at Jean’s words. Throwing off the feeling, she shrugged lightly. “It is back to work for us, mon amour, ” she teased with a smile. “We needed something to sharpen our dulled wits anyway.”

  Jean swatted her bottom affectionately. “Speak for yourself, my dear.” Her fingers played with the diamond and aquamarine ring now resting on her engagement finger. She had only the previous week replaced her emerald wedding ring from Reed.

  The Pride and the Emerald Enchantress worked in perfect concert to approach the enemy vessel. The British, upon being confronted with two ships, decided to turn tail and run, attempting to avoid a confrontation. The two privateers gave chase, and the race was on.

  In high spirits, Jean and Kathleen were enjoying the game. Knowing full well that they could overtake the British vessel at any time, they toyed with it as a cat teases a mouse. When at length they tired of the game, they moved swiftly to close the gap. In short order, they had outmaneuvered the heavier ship and flanked her on both sides, effectively hemming her in.

  In a move perfected by repetition, Kathleen grabbed a boarding line and swung herself gracefully aboard the enemy ship, her rapier at the ready. Jean landed softly at her side, prepared to fight in tandem with her, each guarding the other’s back. They immediately launched into the fray, blades flashing in the sunlight.

  As was their usual pattern, Jean faced off against the ship’s captain, while Kathleen took on the quartermaster. With an ease that was ridiculous, as well as enviable, she defeated her opponent handily with a last quick feint and a smooth thrust. As Jean, too, had finished off his foe, they went on to match wits and blades with yet another pair of hapless victims while their crew efficiently rounded up the remaining Britons.

  Busy dealing with her latest adversary, Kathleen took no note of the tall, bearded man standing near Finley, avidly watching her every move. Her full concentration was on the burly seaman before her, anticipating his actions almost before he’d thought of them himself. Her gaze never flickered from his, even when she heard Jean’s choked gasp behind her. Moving swiftly to block a heavy blow, she called over her shoulder, “Jean, are you wounded?”

  Jean’s voice sounded strangely strangled as he answered, “Do not concern yourself, cherie. I am in no danger.”

  With nimble, fluid motions, she dispatched her enemy with three neatly executed strokes. Immediately she turned to locate Jean.

  What she found completely disconcerted her. Never before had she witnessed such pain and anguish in a human face, such regretful sorrow in a pair of eyes. “Jean!” she cried out in alarm. “What is it?” Her eyes were anxiously scanning his body in search of a wound, but found nothing.

  His arms opened wordlessly, and she flew into them, her eyes searching his. Jean’s embrace was bone-crushing and full of tension. A heavy sigh shook his chest as he pressed her to him, holding her head against his pounding heart. “My little sweetheart!” he groaned into her midnight hair. For her ears only, he whispered in hushed torment, “Always remember how much I love you! Promise me you will not forget the love we shared!”

  Fear and confusion tore at her, and she raised her head to gaze into his face. “Jean, what is the matter? Are you hurt?”

  His hands gripped the sides of her head. “More than you will ever know,” he murmured, then said grimly, “Brace yourself, cherie, for the most immense shock of your life.” Without further warning, he turned her about in his arms.

  Had she received a rapier thrust to the heart, Kathleen could not have been more stunned. At the sight before her, she stiffened, incapable of movement. Her breath left her chest in a rush; her head went suddenly light with dizziness; her rapier slid with a clatter from her lifeless hand. Her mouth went dry and her knees weak, and had it not been for Jean’s supporting arms, she would have crumpled to the deck.

  There, before her disbelieving eyes, in the flesh and very much alive, stood Reed.

  Shaking her head slowly back and forth in denial of the vision before her, Kathleen tried to back away, but Jean’s form prevented this
. Her eyes wide with bewilderment, she whimpered pathetically. “This cannot be real!” Her voice rose in hysteria. “This is a cruel, brutal joke! A ghost! Jean! Make it go away!” She turned to hide her face against his protective chest.

  Reed started forward, and then stopped, his brow furrowed in confusion over Kathleen’s reaction. Naturally, he had expected her to be shocked, but nothing like this! He hesitated, not knowing what to do, not wanting to add to her hysteria, and at the same time appalled by the obvious intimacy between his wife and best friend. What had been going on in his absence? And why had she resumed her role as Emerald?

  Jean’s hand clamped about Kathleen’s upper arms, and he thrust her roughly away from him. “Kathleen!” he shouted over her screams. “Kathleen! This is real! It is happening! Reed is here and he’s alive!” He shook her until her teeth nearly rattled in her head. Finally, in desperation, he slapped her face smartly. As she stared up at him, dazed, he said more softly, “Face it, cherie, and deal with it.”

  “Oh, my God!” she sighed heavily, clinging to Jean’s arm as she turned once more to face her long-lost husband. A multitude of emotions mingled within her as she stared at him—shock, surprise, lingering disbelief, along with the rebirth of long buried hopes—wonder, anger and hurt at his year-long disappearance, relief—and finally, love.

  A separate part of her mind was cataloging the changes in him. He was thinner, a bit haggard. His beard needed trimming . . . Then, finally, when she found the courage, her gaze rose to meet his. Those sky-blue eyes looked out at her from a dearly familiar face. Along with his confusion at her odd reaction, his eyes reflected a cool anger, held in check by obvious effort as he watched her collect her wits.