“I’m sorry Esa, I’ll come back later.”
“Don’t ever come back!” She picked up a candelabrum and sent it crashing into the closing door.
~ * ~
For two days, Esa refused to leave the guestroom. On the third morning, she wandered down the stairs, face red and swollen from the well of tears she’d cried since learning of Jacque’s veiled nuptials. She still couldn’t get over the fact that the silver-tongued playboy was married.
Although his family showed concern and made every attempt to lure her out for meals, Jacque had not once bothered to call on her again.
Curiosity, and a bladder that felt like it might burst at any given moment, finally enticed her from the bed; although her appetite had left her.
Rosa, another of Jacque’s exotic looking sisters, sat on a sofa knitting what appeared to be a sweater for a small child. She raised her head and smiled when Esa entered the parlor before setting her knitting aside.
“Esa, come sit with me for a spell. Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?” Her voice was soft and feminine as she spoke in her native tongue.
How had Jacque managed to be born into such a loving family? Yet another of Fate’s mistakes no doubt. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” Angry. Homesick. Gilded. But not hungry. With a weary sigh, she lowered herself onto the sofa. “Where’s Jacque? With his wife?” She flushed with resentment just thinking about the two-timing pirate in the arms of the beautiful Sophia…quite possibly, her grandmother.
Her stomach churned, the sting of hot bile thick in her throat.
“I’m not sure where he is at the moment. Father has been waiting on him for the past few days. My guess would be he’s on his ship.” Her almond shaped eyes seemed to be searching for something as they combed Esa’s face. “You know mademoiselle, things aren’t always what they seem,” the dark haired beauty added, appearing much wiser than her twenty years.
“The past few days? How long has he been gone?”
Rose hesitated. “He left after your quarrel the other night.” As if the woman could read her thoughts, she stated, “Now don’t ye go suspecting the worst, sweetheart. Cherif spends most of his time aboard that old pile of wood. Says it helps him think.” A soft smile reached her eyes.
Esa’s heart groveled at her lovely feet for her clemency. A knock at the door interrupted what promised to be an interesting conversation.
Rosa excused herself to tend the visitor and was greeted by an unkempt, tall man; his face was hidden beneath a dark hat. “May I be of service?”
He tipped the hat, but didn’t remove it. Esa caught a glimpse of the mysterious visitor’s pocked face. Then the black horse driven carriage beyond his shoulder, etched in what looked like gold trim. If there was one thing this century was known for, it was the fondness for gold and lavish décor.
“‘Tis most urgent I speak with the woman traveling with Mr. Jacque Cherif LaFleur, mademoiselle.” The man’s dark eyes appeared urgent.
Hearing the anxious tone in reference to her, Esa stepped from the shadows and joined them at the front door. “Is there something I can help you with? I don’t believe we’ve met.” Had Jacque sent him? What the hell was the rogue up to this time?
“Ah, mademoiselle,” he said, offering a curt bow and shifting his hefty weight from one leg to the other. “LaFleur sent me to collect you. He’s in need of your assistance in a most pressing matter.”
Esa crossed her arms beneath her bosom. Was this some stupid trick? Did he think to have one last romp in the hay before returning to his wife?
In need of her assistance…sure he was. What was the shifty swindler up to? She eyed the horse driven carriage in front of the house and swallowed. She really was in another time. She couldn’t call a cab and go home, refuse to take his calls.
“Tell him to let his wife assist him, I’m not going anywhere!” She thrust her chin forward in defiance and started back toward the sitting room.
“Attente!” The man removed his hat and lowered his frazzled head. “If you please, mademoiselle, it’s imperative that you come with me now.” His tone was etched in desperation, causing a sensation to shoot through her similar to that of a punch in the stomach.
She looked to Rosa for her opinion, but the woman looked as baffled as she. “Is Jacque all right? Is he hurt?” Rosa asked.
“Mr. LaFleur is in no immediate danger, mademoiselle.”
There was something unsettling in his answer. Both Rosa and Esa detected the underlying threat. No immediate danger? What the hell did that mean?
Was Jacque in trouble?
“Oh all right!” She threw her hands up. “I’ll go.” She thought she glimpsed a hint of a shady grin before the man dipped his head and turned away. Against her better judgment, Esa followed the stranger to the carriage.
“Attente, Cherie!” Rosa called, catching up to her and wrapping a dark hooded mantle about her shoulders. “You’ll catch your death of cold!”
“Merci beaucoup,” Esa said with a heartfelt smile. The man had filled her with such anxiety she’d been oblivious to the blustery chill in the air.
Her stomach was a web of painful knots. The hairs on her spine stood erect as she climbed into the gloomy carriage. The prospect of seeing Jacque again overshadowed her apprehension.
Just wait until she got her hands on the lying swine. How dare he abandon her, pawn her off on his unsuspecting family. She could almost hear the gurgling sounds he’d make as she choked the life out of him.
She was ushered into a three tier, U-shaped palace she’d only ever seen pictures of until now. Chateau Versailles. The King’s Royal Court. Were it possible, it was even more extravagant, more breathtaking in person.
It looked like a masquerade party was being held in the open courtyard as people wearing 18th century high fashion bustled about, stopping to gape at the awkward guest. The few faces she was able to see held distasteful expression that told her she was beyond her element daring to arrive at His Majesty’s Royal Court wearing nothing more than a peasant’s garment.
Sharks don’t necessarily live in the water Esa…her father’s words echoed inside her head. How right he was, if left to her own devices, these high class savages would chew her up and spit her out in some black alley on the other side of Paris. She considered pinching her cheeks, but didn’t need a mirror to know that the frosty air added the needed color, not that it mattered.
Her obscure travel companion left her little time to admire the view as he hurried her into the building and down a multitude of winding white-vaulted corridors—trimmed in gold of course—as soon as she lifted a soft soled slipper from of the carriage. Though the evil eyes she was getting almost made her want to thank the quiet man for rescuing her from the lynch mob.
Why would Jacque come here without his father?
The palace smelled similar to the authentic French bakery she’d visited with Aunt Cindy and Larisa as a child in Louisiana. It piqued her appetite and reminded her it had been a few days since she’d eaten anything substantial.
A couple of powder wigged thugs dressed in rich tones of blue and gold stood watch over the lofty double doors. The Royal Guard. Perched atop their wigs sat the infamous three-cornered cock hat. The hat was black and matched dark britches. A vest, known as a waistcoat, of gold, white ruffles cascading from the neck and wrist, peeked from beneath a fancy tailored blue jacket. Black leather shoes with polished gold buckles and the hilt of a shiny silver sword completed the picturesque ensemble. Rosy cheeks and painted red lips stood out from the ghostlike powder that covered their faces.
She felt like she was in a dream. A prisoner in a horrible nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. Her head began to spin wildly out of control. The whole incident was so surreal she thought she might faint again.
Each guard gripped an arm, and before she could bat an eyelash, she found herself inside King Louis’ private lair. If the rest of the palace were ornate and flashy, this room rose above the sta
ndard. Rich, velvet covered chairs, plush sofas, brocaded silks and Victorian style furnishings filled the massive space. To one side of the room was a platform with a generous red crushed velvet high back chair with various colored gold-fringed pillows lying about. Matching curtains were tied back at either side by ribbons of gold.
Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead when the infamous king himself strolled in from somewhere beyond the curtain. He was layered in ruffles and spotted furs, a statement of his rank and title and cast a superior grin in her direction then dismissed all but one guard.
Esa looked to her side, in search of the man that had brought her here, but he’d disappeared.
Something didn’t feel right.
Where was Jacque?
She attempted to swallow the fear in her throat, trying desperately to keep her wits about her.
This is only temporary, she told herself, resisting the urge to click her heels together and repeat the phrase, ‘There’s no place like home’. Soon you’ll be home, in your own bed, in your own clothes.
Perched atop his noble throne, the predator eyed her with great interest. “Such a lovely dame. LaFleur certainly knows where to find ze crème de le crop. Tell me, mademoiselle, where might I find our pirating friend?”
Esa was near to fainting for the third time. Not only was she speaking with a man only known to her through history books, but His Majesty was questioning her about Jacque’s whereabouts! Hands wringing behind her back, she answered in French, “I haven’t seen him for two days, Your Highness.” The image of Jacque running back to his wife ignited the fuse of anger and she spat under her breath, “Nor do I care to!”
His silence was unnerving. She dared to meet his judging gaze. Was it her accent? Gawd, she hoped he wouldn’t think her a spy and lock her away in some dark, musty dungeon! She was going to hurl, and was glad she’d had the sense to decline the food Rosa had offered.
“Well, I can tell you where he’s not. He’s not on his ship, mademoiselle. I’ve posted guards at every entrance of the dock, in case the treacherous fool should try to flee with my treasure. LaFleur must have wanted you pretty bad to risk his life by sneaking you on board his ship. I’m sure the charlatan shared more than his bed with such a sweet morsel. Tell me, what has he told you about it?”
“Your Highness, all I know is that Jacque and his father planned to return your treasure to you when he found it.” Already she didn’t like this king, nor the direction he was heading with his unspoken questions. “What about his wife? I’m sure wherever the lovely Sophia is, Jacque won’t be too far behind.” Just saying the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Louis wailed with laughter, his entire body shaking with the gesture. “His wife? So this is the reason for your distress?” Still chuckling, he wiped away a straggling tear and added, “You’ve met Sophia.” They were interrupted by a boisterous rap on the door, followed by the messenger that burst in with the guards.
“Begging your pardon Your Majesty, but if I may address the court?”
She’d only seen more humbled bowing in an old Japanese flick.
Irritation flashed across eyes of stone. “Enough babbling, has he been found?”
“Indeed, Your Honor, he has. LaFleur is on his way here as we speak.”
Louis held a jeweled hand up to silence the messenger, and then turned a cautionary gaze toward his guard. “You may escort the lady to my chamber for the time being. Do not leave her unattended, I’ve a feeling la femme isn’t as soft as she appears.” A wicked smile reached his shifty eyes. “‘Tis only temporary mademoiselle. You see, your paramour was to call upon me the moment he stepped off his wretched ship. As he arrived three days hence, he obviously has no intention of honoring his word. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how one looks at it, I may have need of your assistance.”
“No!”
“Remove her from my presence.” He waved a dismissive royal hand. “I wish to see LaFleur the minute he sets foot in the palace.” The haughty king rose from his chair and started toward the curtain. Pausing mid stride, he turned back to the messenger. “Where was he found?”
“‘Tis a bit complicated, Your Majesty…”
~ * ~
He needed to get away, needed time to think after his argument with Esa. With a dark scowl, Jacque stormed back toward his beloved ship. His safe haven. He should have told her the truth before he took her to his father’s house. Would she have understood? He was married, that much was true, although it wasn’t a marriage founded on love.
He’d thought he loved Sophia once. When they’d met, she seemed so sweet, so loving. In truth, it hadn’t been that hard to honor his mother’s last request. He wanted to feel love, craved the security of a loving home instead of the periods of starvation that came with ship to ship living.
It didn’t take long for him to discover Sophia’s treacherous ways. She’d tricked him, fooled his mother into thinking she was human.
He’d thought to never forget the stabbing pain, the consummation of disappointment when he’d come home unexpectedly, flowers in hand, only to find her in bed with Leon Keats. Shamed and disgusted, he’d moved a few belongings back to his ship, leaving the sour marriage behind. It seemed he’d been born with the luck of the devil himself.
The memory never failed to bring feelings of grief and resentment to the surface. At least, before he met Esa. Oddly enough, the feelings had subsided. He now looked back on the event with gladness in his heart.
He should have divorced the femme fatale, and meant to, before the untimely matter of his father’s debt arose.
Why the hell did Sophia have to show up and ruin things anyway?
After spending time in the easy comfort of Esa’s company, he realized he’d never loved Sophia. Not the way a man should love a woman when he takes her to wife.
He peered out over the restless sea and sighed. The dusky sky merged with diamond like stars and danced along the horizon. He withdrew Sita’s stone and rolled it in his hand before depositing back into his pocket. Enough time spent brooding, he may as well face his destiny.
Had Sophia spoken the truth when she said the king intended to kill his family even if he handed over the diamond? The bitch would say and do anything to get what she wanted. Why should he lend any credence to her forked tongue?
On the other hand, what if for once in her life, she spoke the truth? What was a man to do?
Dingo plopped himself comfortably atop his shoulder. Jacque scratched the monkey’s head and sighed heavily. “Ah Dingo, it would seem I keep spinning my web in such a way as to entangle myself, aye?”
The sound of soft booted feet sneaking up behind him saw Jacque spinning on his heels. He didn’t get a good look at the intruders as something solid smashed into his forehead, rendering him unconscious.
When next Jacque opened his throbbing eyes, he found he couldn’t move. Metal clanged against metal as he tried to lift his aching limbs.
He was chained to a wall!
What the hell was going on? Who…
He growled and gave the chains a hard fury filled yank, but that only served to shoot fire from his wrist and ankles. As the blinding rage subsided, he found himself gazing into the probing faces of a few men he’d never had the misfortune of meeting, and one he had…
Leon Keats.
The slightly younger version of Jacque’s late first mate stared him down with great loathing. “Prepare to meet with the fate you’ve bestowed upon my brother, LaFleur.” The velvety smoothness in his tone didn’t hide the hatred reflected in piercing sapphire like eyes.
“Ye brother got what was due him, attempting a mutiny aboard my ship,” Jacque spat through a clenched jaw. The taste of iron lingered in his mouth from the dried blood on his lips. The crimson fluid trickled down his sore face from the gash on his forehead.
“Silence! I’ll not hear any excuse. The only reason I spare ye life now is because you have something that belongs to me.” He resembled a snake
when he grinned, then resumed pacing directly in front of Jacque, toying with the small dagger between his hands.
Jacque’s eyes narrowed in wait.
Leon snatched the lantern from the linkboy and held it high. “When I arrived home the other night, I found my woman bound and stuffed in the wardrobe like an old coat. She told me everything, LaFleur. Even about the chestnut haired wench ye so brazenly harbored like a lovesick fool.”
No, the flesh hungry fool couldn’t know about Esa! Suddenly, the image of her and Leon entwined in a lover’s embrace flashed in his head. Leon beamed.
He stopped pacing and threw a leg over the table, settling his weight as he studied Jacque’s face. “I’ll bet you’re wondering how I discovered your little secret?”
Jacque said nothing but glowered heatedly at his nemesis. “There are those that are more loyal to my brother, even in his death, than they ever were to you.”
“You’ve been misinformed, Leon.”
The snake snickered and shook his head. “We know the stone is not on your person. We’ve checked already. Perhaps the wench has it in her custody.” A devilish grin formed a twinkle in his eyes. It was meant to intimidate, to get him to disclose the treasure’s whereabouts.
It served only to infuriate him further.
Berserk fury consumed Jacque. His hands ached to close over Leon’s windpipe. “The bitch lied to ye, Keats!” He tried to keep a level tone. Where was the cursed diamond if not in his pocket? Had it fallen out between his ship and wherever the hell he was now? “She used ye like she used me. I’ve not seen her since my return. Ye didn’t find the cursed stone because I don’t have it.” He allowed the wickedest of laughs to flow from his gut, adding, “Perhaps the courtesan’s found herself another John to please?”
He didn’t miss the shock of uncertainty that flashed across Leon’s eyes, and reeled in the sweet aftermath of the simple pleasure.
“You have two choices, LaFleur. You can tell me where you’ve stashed the stone, or, I can extradite the information from your whore.”
“You go near the woman and I will kill ye, you lubberin’ scalawag!”
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