"Slow down," Ethan said, laughing. He was more certain than ever that Judah and Dominique belonged together. Each worried more about the other's hurts than their own. "When I left Judah, he looked weary and haggard. With a few day's rest, he will be himself."
"Oh." He could feel the tension leave Dominique's body. "You cannot imagine what Judah has been through these past three days. It's a wonder he made it at all."
"Allow me to light the lantern," he said, putting her from him. "Then we can see each other as we talk. I think we are far enough from shore to risk it."
Soon the cabin was aglow with warm light. Dominique smiled at Ethan. "You seem no worse for your ordeal."
"I had it easier than you and Judah, remember?" He was watching her as he spoke. When he lifted the lantern to hold it close to her face, she turned her head away.
"How are your burns?"
"I have no complaints." Then she clutched his shirtfront. "Will there ... Is my face permanently scarred?"
"I would say not. Perhaps only slight scarring. And even that may fade in time." He lifted her hands and observed that they seemed to be healing nicely. "Were you burned anywhere else, Dominique?"
She lowered her eyes. "My leg. It does hurt sometimes," she admitted. "Could you give me medicine to put on it?"
"May I see it, Dominique? I am a doctor, you know?"
She nodded, bending to raise her pant leg. She gritted her teeth and cried out in pain as the fabric brushed against the wound.
Ethan dropped to his knees and removed the bandage that must have been clean when first applied, but was now a filthy rag. Then he gasped as he turned the leg to the light. "Dominique, this is a very serious burn. It should have been cleansed and dressed daily."
"I had no time. Judah was in danger."
His eyes were kind as they rested on her face that showed such inner beauty, courage, and strength. "Dominique, what were you thinking?"
Her eyes were fever-bright. "I . . . could not have gone another day."
"You did not tell Judah about this burn, did you?"
"No. He had enough to worry about as it was."
"I am going to have some hot water brought in for you. After you have washed the leg as best you can, I will return to cleanse your wound and apply healing ointment. You are going to stay in bed and do nothing for at least a week."
She did not bother to argue with him. She was so weary, she thought she could sleep and never waken.
He touched her head. "You have a fever."
She only nodded.
He walked to the door, and on impulse turned back to her. "Dominique, who is Valcour?"
She yawned and closed her eyes, too weary to think clearly. "He is my brother."
It was just after the changing of the midnight watch that Ethan found Judah at the helm of the ship. Even in the waning moonlight, he could see the pleasure plainly written on his face—Judah had been created to captain a ship.
"Ethan, come join me. This is what I missed most while I was on the island."
"I had thought you would be weary after your long ordeal."
"Rest can come later. First, I will set the Tempest on her homeward journey."
"I have just left Dominique," Ethan said worriedly.
"How is she?" Judah asked, concerned by his tone.
A cloud had passed across the dim moonlight, casting Judah's face in shadows, so Ethan could not see his friend's reaction to his announcement. "Not good, I fear. She is very ill."
"You there on watch, come to me!" Judah called out. When the man hurriedly appeared, Judah shoved him to the wheel. "Keep her on course." Then he turned to Ethan. "I will see her for myself."
Ethan had to run to forestall Judah as he descended the quarterdeck. "She is sleeping, Judah. It is best not to wake her."
Judah gripped him by the shoulder. "Then tell me what ails her."
"Let us go to your quarters and I will tell you all."
Judah nodded.
When they entered Judah's cabin, he turned to his friend impatiently. "Well?"
"You know about the burns on Dominique's face and hands."
"Yes, yes."
"But you do not know that she has a severe burn on her leg. I can only guess at the pain she endured while leading you to safety. I am a man, and I do not think I could have endured it."
Judah closed his eyes. "She never spoke of it."
"I have known many women," Ethan said softly, "but Dominique is the most loyal, brave, and forthright of them all."
Judah lowered himself onto his bed as realization hit him. "All the time that she was worried about my health, she was suffering. God in heaven, I showed her no mercy, no kindness." He leaned his head in his hands, and devastation swept over him when he remembered how hard Dominique had pushed them both to get him safely off the island. "How ill is she, Ethan?"
"The leg is bad right now, but I believe with daily dressing, I can stop the infection."
Judah raised tormented eyes to his friend. "Do everything you can to help her."
"Of course I shall."
"Valcour," Judah said, "is most fortunate indeed to have the love of such a woman."
"Indeed. He is a most fortunate brother."
Judah looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"She told me that he is her brother."
Many emotions played across the handsome plane of Judah's face. "Her brother!"
"That is what she told me."
Then Judah's jaw tightened and he stared into space. "I wonder what game she is playing now," he said, more to himself than to Ethan. "I must not allow her to—"
"Damn you for the fool you are, Judah!" Ethan walked to the door and wrenched it open. "I have no time to spend on fools."
Judah bowed his head. There were too many thorns in his heart to ever trust a woman completely. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. But there was softening there as Dominique wedged her way into his thoughts.
29
The Tempest made her homeward journey, sailing out of the sun-kissed waters of the Caribbean toward the brisk Atlantic. A cold north wind swept across her bow and waves crashed before her in a frenzy. Bright shiny days gave way to dark overcast skies.
Dominique had never known such cold. She shivered in her cabin while fever ravished her body. Ethan spent most of his time with her, and her only other visitor had been Tom, who worriedly hovered near her cabin.
Judah purposely stayed away from her because he was fighting a battle within himself, and it was a battle he was losing. Twice a day, Ethan reported Dominique's condition to him, and it seemed the whole ship's crew waited and hoped for her recovery.
After a week, the fever broke and Dominique began to take nourishment. Within the next two days, her strength returned and she began to walk about the cabin.
One morning, she opened the door to find Ethan carefully carrying what appeared to be a woman's gown, a broad grin on his face.
"I have a surprise for you," he told her.
"What is it, Ethan?" she inquired curiously.
"Clothing. Fashionable, and warm enough for you to endure the cold."
He placed his bounty on the bed and watched her face brighten.
"Oh Ethan, it is so lovely. I do not even want to know whence it came." She ran her hand across the blue brushed-velvet gown, which felt lush and soft against her fingers.
"You are right: you don't want to know how I came by this plunder." He chuckled, glad to see her face flushed with happiness after all the pain she had endured. "I have a few other things for you that the crew donated." He picked up a silver-handled mirror and handed it to her. "There's a hair brush, a warm cloak. .. But I will leave you to inspect everything at your leisure."
Dominique rushed at him and threw her arms about his neck. "Thank you, dear Ethan. Thank you so much!"
"I have an invitation for you," he said.
She looked at him, hardly daring to breathe. She had not seen Judah since the night he brought her
on board the ship, and she hoped the invitation was from him.
"The captain requests the honor of your presence at dinner tonight. If your engagement card is not full, of course," Ethan teased.
He watched a frown form on her brow and she hesitated. "Will you be there?"
"I was not invited."
"Then I shall not go either."
"As your physician, I advise you to accept the captain's invitation. It will lift your spirits."
She wanted to go—oh, how she wanted to. Dare she? "You may tell the captain that I shall be there."
Ethan raised her hand to his lips and smiled in understanding. She did not know that he saw into her heart and recognized the love she felt for Judah. It was a beautiful and rare gift, and he hoped Judah would treat it as such, or even recognize it as love.
"He will think you beautiful, Dominique," Ethan said, responding to her unanswered question. "I shall call for you at eight to escort you. That gives you three hours to make yourself ready."
After Ethan left, Dominique held the velvet gown out for inspection, wishing she had a full-length mirror so she could see herself. Judah had only seen her looking ragtag and disheveled, and she wanted him to think she was pretty.
With distaste, she picked up the ragged trousers, tossing them in a heap and vowing that she would never wear them again. Her eye caught something that had fallen from one of the trouser pockets, and she bent to retrieve it.
It was the letter that Colonel Marceau had dropped the night they rescued Judah. She had forgotten all about it.
She studied it for a moment, trying to decide whether to toss it out the porthole or read it. It was addressed to General Richepance, not the colonel, as he had claimed. She felt no guilt as she began to read:
My dear General,
I am taking a great risk in passing on information to you that has come to me in the strictest confidence. I overheard a conversation between Bonaparte and his generals. Of course, as you can imagine, they did not know I was within hearing, or they would not have spoken so freely, knowing I am opposed to the notion. Our beloved leader has decided to sell the entire Territory of Louisiana to the Americans. He will soon ask for the American minister, Livingston, to come to France to begin bargaining. As of yet, the Americans know nothing of this. Bonaparte is quite pleased with himself and declared that by increasing the territory of the United States, her power will be immense and she will one day become England's seafaring adversary and humble British pride. I do not have to remind you that this is to be kept in the strictest confidence.
Dominique read the signature: Charles Talleyrand. She had never heard the name and did not know who he might be. She quickly reread the letter a second time, realizing the importance of it—at least to an American.
At exactly eight, Ethan rapped on the door. When Dominique whisked it open and stood with the lantern light behind her, her hair in a halo of light, he was sure he was looking at an angel.
"You are beautiful," he said softly.
She turned around in a circle so he could see her in her finery. Her hair had been curled in ringlets and pulled away from her face with ivory combs. Made in the empire style, the blue velvet gown could have been created for her, so well did it fit. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and he thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Ethan reached around her and took the matching cloak off a hook. "It's cold." He draped it about her shoulders. "You will need this."
As she walked across the deck, she had to stop every few paces to greet one of the crew. If she but knew it, they were all her willing slaves. She stopped before the sailmaster and curtsied. "I have not forgotten the gown you made me, Hennings. I loved it every bit as much as this one."
He grinned, looking pleased. "I reckon you are about the prettiest lass I've seen."
She thanked him with a nod. Then she felt a small tug at her cape and turned to Tom.
"You are a sight, Miss Dominique. We've all been worried about you." He looked her over carefully. "Are you well?"
"I am." She looked at each rough, unshaved face of the men that surrounded her, thinking how she had come to care for them. "I want you all to know that I am well."
They smiled and nodded.
Ethan led her toward the quarterdeck, and she paused with her foot on the first step. "I should not have come."
His hand tightened on hers. "Scared?"
"Terrified."
"I am going to tell you a secret, and if you repeat it to the captain, I'll deny saying it. He's more afraid of you than you are of him."
"Me? Why?"
He urged her forward. "I'll leave you to find that out for yourself."
When they reached the captain's quarters, Ethan held the door open for her and pressed his hand against her back, urging her inside.
Dominique almost lost her courage when the door closed behind her at the same time that Judah entered the dining room. He wore the uniform of an American naval captain: form-fitting trousers, a crisp white, high-neck shirt, and blue jacket trimmed with gold buttons. His midnight-colored hair lay smooth across his tanned forehead, and she ached to touch the velvet strands.
Neither had spoken as they stood there looking at each other. Remembering his manners, Judah came to her and removed her cloak, his hand lingering against the back of her neck.
Then he just stood there, looking at her in the soft candlelight. Her blue gown fit snugly across the breasts and dropped in soft folds from the empire waist. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her white skin, and her blue eyes were enhanced by her long, silken lashes.
"Dominique," he said her name like a caress. "You take my breath away."
She glanced down at her scuffed boots, which peeked from beneath her gown. "I still have no shoes," she said, wondering why she could not think of something clever to reply.
"No matter what you wear, you turn heads."
"Thank you, Judah." She looked him over carefully. "Ethan says that you have recovered."
"I have indeed. Thanks to my able guide and nurse." He held the chair for her. "Shall we dine?"
For some reason, Dominique felt shy. Perhaps it was because she was more herself than she had been at any time since meeting Judah. It had been easier to communicate with him when she had worn the baggy sailor garb.
"I see you wear the trappings of an American naval officer, Captain. Is this the real you?"
"Who can say?"
"Does this mean you will not be sailing the seas in search of French plunder?"
He rested his hand on the white tablecloth and she stared at his long, tapered fingers. "I'd like to think so. The price on my head was getting too high for my comfort."
"Did you find what you were after?"
"Did you?"
She ducked her head. "Not as of yet." She laid her hand on his. "Why did you take me away from my island?"
"You were in danger," he said simply.
"But I must return. Someone will be going to Guadeloupe looking for me. I must be there for him."
"Your brother."
"Yes. But how did you know?"
"Apparently, you spoke of him in your delirium."
Her face paled. "What else did I say?"
Judah tilted his head back against the chair and appeared to be studying the overhead beams. "If you told Ethan any of your deep, dark secrets, he has not related them to me."
"You must put me on the first ship sailing for Guadeloupe, Judah. I must be there for my brother when he returns."
"You would not be helping him if you fell into Colonel Marceau's hands."
"You know that I have friends who will hide me."
"So you do."
Dominique thought of the letter she had tucked into her boot. "I will strike a bargain with you, Judah."
His lips twisted in irony. "Now, why should I worry when you get that look in your eyes? Can it be that I recognize it as the expression of a predatory cat about to pounce upon its prey?"
He rested his elbows on the table and sank his chin into his clasped hands. "You are not my prisoner."
"Then will you agree to put me ashore at the first available port, with enough money for my passage back to Guadeloupe?"
"Allow me to counter your offer with one of my own." He watched her face closely. "I once asked you to marry me, and I now repeat that offer." He saw her beautiful aqua eyes widen with disbelief and then something else he could not read.
She hid her trembling hands beneath the table. "What would I have to gain from such a connection?"
He gave her a bland look. "I am a man with considerable wealth, and contrary to the impression you may have gotten because of my pirating ways, I have a respectable name to give you."
"Do you think me so mercenary that I would marry a man for wealth and a name? If I had been so inclined, I could have married a dozen times over by now."
"Yes," Judah said, his eyes on her face, "yet none but I can say that they bedded you."
She lowered her head, her face flooded with color.
"You have me puzzled, Dominique. You say you will not marry for money or position, and yet you gave me what you would take to a marriage, your virginity. Some day, perhaps you will tell me why."
She took a moment to gather her thoughts. He was very clever, and she must not let him conquer her pride. "I do not know why you would want to marry me, Judah. You certainly know no good of me."
He smiled. "Do I not?" Then his eyes locked with hers. "Let us just say I am in need of a wife, and I have already tested your . . . charms and found them more than adequate to keep me rushing home to you each night."
Dominique stood, her eyes flaming with anger, her breasts heaving with indignation. "How dare you say these things to me! I can see why you might think I am a woman of loose morals, since that is what I wanted you to believe. But I have no desire to compete with your memory of your dead wife."
"Pray God you do not think that is what I want," Judah said in exasperation.
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