She thrust her hands into the heavy curtain of black silk that fell down his back, riding the blissful reins of desire, crying out as each thrust brought them closer to the pearly gates of ecstasy.
Their next few hours were filled with sensual bliss. Afterwards, Esa snuggled close to him as they lay on the hammock. “Don’t worry Jacque, he’ll keep his word, I know it.”
“How do ye know, lass? You’ve not been around to witness his brutal fist of justice.” He sighed and gave her a squeeze. “No matter, the worst he can do is take my life and I’ve already resigned myself to that, eh? Though my heart and soul will always be with you my love.”
It clutched her heart to hear him speak so casually of death. His death. Surely time had not flung him around like an old rag doll to end in such a cruel twist of fate, to waste such a God given gift? Deep in her own thoughts, she’d missed all but the tail end of what he was saying. “What was that?”
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry Esa, I have to be sure it’s safe. Once you’re in England, I’ll return to France and see if ‘ol Louis truly intends to keep his promise.”
She ripped free of his hold. “Like hell you will! I’m going with you.”
“Avast woman, do not quarter with me. I beg ye. Don’t make it harder than it already is.” He pulled her back into the warmth of his embrace and held her tight. “Listen to me, and try to hold that tongue of yours ‘till I’ve finished, aye?”
Reluctantly, she bobbed her head and he continued. “I need to know you’re safe. Should King Louis think to betray me again, I’ll not go to my grave knowing he has ye trapped in his clutches.” He silenced her protest with a kiss. “Hopefully, he’ll remain true to his word. If he does, I’ll return straight away to collect ye. But not until I’m absolutely sure, mind you.” He lifted her worried face to look into her eyes.
“I don’t know what time has in store for us, but I do know this…I love ye more than life itself, Esa Keats. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Should I die when I hand over the king—my spirit shall haunt the centuries until I can hold ye close in my arms again.”
Esa swallowed. A tear broke loose from the pack and trickled down her cheek. Jacque kissed it away before covering her mouth with his; his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Will ye do it lass? For me? For us?”
Damn! How was it men had such a way of convincing a woman to do whatever they wanted? Looking at him, knowing he would willingly give up his life for hers, she could not deny his request. “I don’t like it Jacque, but I’ll do it, for you.”
He laughed triumphantly and nuzzled her ear. “I don’t like it either lass, but ‘tis much more appealing to me than the alternative.”
~ * ~
The ocean swayed and twisted angrily in the midst of the blustering storm and the less than skeletal crew of the Sainte-Anne, including Esa and a frantic King Louis, scurried to batten down the hatches.
The raindrops felt like knives as it blasted her face while she tugged on the ropes of the sails. Seeing her struggle, Jacque came to her aide. “Get down below!” he screamed to be heard over the howling wind. “Stay in the cabin!”
“In a minu—”
“Now woman!”
“All right, I’m going! I just thought you could use a little help,” she shouted and staggered toward the ladder. She’d be more than happy to get into some dry clothes.
The black storm grew more wicked with each passing minute; sending the ship airborne as it crashed against the savage waves. Esa was thrown to the opposite side of the ship. Her hand shot to her throbbing head and she pulled it away to check for blood. But even with one hand shielding her eyes, she could barely see.
Which way was the ladder?
Jacque was still bellowing orders for her to get below, though he was barely audible on the other side of the large schooner. Her fingers traveled up the rail in attempt to come to her feet and she shrieked when she felt another pair of hands. Lifting herself, she peered over the edge. Her heart gave a thud to see Louis dangling like a side of beef in a meat market and hanging on for dear life.
She clutched his wrist, screaming for Jacque’s help all the while. He was immediately at her side and hoisted Louis over top of the rail and back into the boat.
“Get below, the both of ye!” Jacque shouted and grabbed her arm to steady her when she almost went over herself. She didn’t argue this time, but scrambled hastily toward the ladder.
“Thank you, LaFleur. You saved my life. I am deeply indebted to you.” Louis placed a shaky hand on Jacque’s shoulder and squeezed as he shouted. “You could have just as easily let me drown, but you didn’t!”
Jacque dismissed him. “Get below or next time, I just might leave ye for the sharks!”
Louis snickered and gripped his shirt until he reached the ladder. Jacque left to aid Rupert and Bo in their steadfast battle to control the ship. The schooner shot into the air once again and smashed hard onto the sea. The ship tipped to the left as if to turn face down, but righted itself again. Everyone on deck was thrashed wildly from side to side as the eye of the storm hovered menacingly over the Sainte-Anne.
Satisfied they’d done their best to secure the ship; Jacque, Bo and Rupert sought cover on the lower deck. Soaked to the bone, a shivering Jacque went in search of dry garments.
“Esa?” he called when he didn’t find her in his cabin. Where the hell was she?
His body began to quiver though fear and adrenaline heated his veins. He traipsed desperately down the hall, searching every nook and yelling at the top of his lungs, “Esa!”
“What’s amiss, Cap’n?” Rupert asked.
“Where is she? Have ye seen her?” He went deeper into the ship, as far as the bilge yelling at the top of his lungs, Esa!”
“Nay Cap’n. Last time I saw her, she was on the main deck, with ye and the king.”
Jacque looked straight at Louis, but didn’t see him. His heart pulsed loudly in his ears as he recalled the shifting in the ship just after he’d barked at her to go below.
His blood ran cold and he shot like lightning back up to the main deck.
“Esa!” He cried. The storm wrenched him from side to side as he hunted. He looked over the railing, but only met with black doom as the punishing rain continued to pelt his face. He crawled along the deck, searching every speck of the ship, oblivious to the storm at this point. She wasn’t there.
He nearly fell down the ladder in desperate hopes that he’d overlooked her below. “Esa!”
“I’m sorry, Cap’n,” Rupert lowered his head and crossed himself.
“I want this entire ship searched until she’s found!” Isn’t that what he’d just done himself?
Bo eyed him sadly and shook his dark head. “Aye, we’ll search Cap’n, but ye know as well as I that the lass stayed close to ye cabin.”
He returned to his cabin. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t there.
There was no wet clothes, no damp trail of her whereabouts.
She was gone.
He dropped into a chair and placed his head between his hands. Tears poured as to rival the violent storm overhead. There was no need to search for her. His blood prickled beneath his skin as a dark void took siege of his heart. She’d fallen over the side, time had reclaimed his angel. Her work was done here. She’d saved him, saved his family.
He stared at the ceiling. “As God as my witness, I will find ye again, my sweet angel. In life same as in death, I swear the heavens will not rest until I do!”
Twenty Six
Aside from a crucifix on the wall directly opposite Esa, the room was vacant of anything but the bed she occupied and a drab modest nightstand. The scent of Frankincense loomed heavily in the air. Memories of a Catholic upbringing drifted into her mind, images of Father Arnold waving about the incense jar as he walked the aisle leading to mother’s casket.
Was she in a hospital? It didn’t resemble any hospital she’d ever seen. Her eyes looked to the wind
ow, though she was too weak to even lift her head an inch off the pillow to see anything.
Riding on the heels of her concern was the heart stopping recollection of what had transpired on the Sainte-Anne. She knew where she was. “Jacque.” Was that her voice that croaked like an old toad? Damn the tricky pirate! He’d done it! Had her locked away at the mission in England, just as he’d threatened. Her blood simmered.
“I see you’re finally awake young miss,” said a paunchy woman with a nasally pitch and wearing a habit as she sauntered into the room and came to stand beside the bed. “Hungry?”
The nun’s English accent confirmed Esa’s suspicions and added fuel to her flaming rage. Damn him! How had he managed to get her here without her knowledge? If only she had the strength to leap from the bed, she’d leave this place and march right back to France and give the hard headed corsair a piece of her mind! Had she been asleep when—
She froze. Hugging herself in attempt to provide warmth and security from the attack of icy waters. Good God, she closed her eyes and tried to quiet the ache in her heart. She remembered.
Could she ever forget such a nightmare?
She’d tried to get below deck at Jacque’s insistence, when the massive wave tossed the ship sending her headfirst into the spine-chilling waters. Had Jacque seen what happened? Had he jumped in to save her? Her eyes darted about the room, but didn’t see her handsome privateer loitering about. Was he all right?
A cool hand pressed against her forehead. “You don’t feel as if you’ve a fever. It may take you a bit to get your bearings. Can I offer you some tea?”
Esa attempted to sit up. “Where am I?”
“Teeport,” the woman spouted nonchalantly throwing open the drapes the rest of the way and blinding Esa with sunlight.
“Teeport?”
“England, deary.”
She was afraid to ask, but fear wouldn’t answer the mountain of questions piling in her head. “H-How did I get her?”
“A nice young couple found you unconscious on the beach and called the medic. You’re lucky you didn’t drown, dear.”
“Oh dear God,” Esa whispered. Panic pounded in her chest. She swallowed, afraid to so much as breathe. “What’s the year?”
The nun cocked a round face to one side and stared at her as if she’d lost her scruples. “Two thousand four. You must have taken some bump on the head missy!”
No! Her heart cried. She wasn’t ready! Jacque! Had he followed her back, as she had him? She clenched her jaw against the sting of tears. “Was there a man?”
“A man?”
Esa’s voice cracked beneath the strain. “On the beach where I was found? Was there anyone else?”
“I’ve not heard mention of anyone else, at least not at this hospital. I’m sorry missy, where you traveling with someone? Is that how you landed in the sea?”
“It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she wished this woman would just leave her alone to wallow in her own misery.
Where was Jacque?
~ * ~
Several weeks passed and Esa was finally strong enough to return home. At least physically, though it had taken much coaxing on the nun’s part to get her to eat and accept even the smallest sips of fluids.
Emotionally, she was coming to terms with the idea of never seeing Jacque’s handsome face again. Forever deprived of the warmth of his embrace, the heat of his passion, the mischief in his smile. There wasn’t a minute of the day she didn’t wonder what had become of him.
As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she planned on researching that familiar part of history and putting an end to her sometimes alarming conclusions.
She’d been away long enough that she’d missed introducing Mr. Rafeull to his staff. She cringed at the thought of him. Glad time had relieved her of that burden for she didn’t think could look at the man without needing to empty her stomach.
The nuns had shown her much kindness, even welcomed her to stay on for a few more days though she declined. It was time to move on.
“All set dear?” Sister Mary asked when she entered the room.
Esa smiled and gave the woman a hug. “I believe so. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of me.”
“Bah, it’s been a pleasure. You make sure and drop me a line or two and let me know how you’re doing, okay?”
“I will,” she promised and walked with the woman to the door. She’d come with the clothes on her back, the same sundress she’d been wearing on the Abigail. It boggled the mind to try and make sense of her strange journey. No one would ever believe her…except perhaps, Larisa.
On her way to the taxi, she passed through the entry where a vivid splash of color and a familiar portrait caught her eye. She stopped, but didn’t turn to face it right away. She dared not move. It couldn’t be. Could it? Tears stung her eyes and she fought the urge to cry, afraid her imagination was playing tricks on her as it had so many times over the passing weeks.
Dare she take a closer look? If she didn’t, it would taunt her the rest of her days.
With a brief offering of prayer and the pace of a snail, she turned—and gasped!
Her portrait! The one Jacque had so lovingly slaved over in his attempt to capture each line of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, the pout of her mouth. She’d come to cherish it nearly as much as its creator. Upon closer inspection, she could see it wasn’t the original, but a mere copy.
A copy?
In the lower right hand corner, sprawled in bold script was the name Jacque Cherif LaFleur. Her heart swelled with bittersweet memories as her fingers traced the name.
“Are you all right dear?” Sister Mary asked upon seeing the tears trickling down her face. She did a double take, her eyes shooting from Esa to the portrait and back again. “It, it looks exactly like you! But it can’t be,” she laughed nervously, adding, “that portrait is over two hundred years old. Could be a relative though. Enough to make a person believe in reincarnation.”
Esa swallowed, unable to speak.
“Have you not seen it before?”
Esa shook her head. “I-I’ve seen it.”
“Bah, should’ve known. It’s quite popular. One of the LaFleur Collection. His most beloved piece, they say. Never went anywhere without the original, even made out his will stating it was to be buried with him. Eccentric old man, though he was a brilliant artist. One of a kind. And very pleasing to the eye.”
The LaFleur collection. Jacque had survived! Joy tugged at her despairing heartstrings.
Louis had remained true to his word. Jacque lived.
Had he proceeded with the divorce? Re-married? Did she want to know the answer to that question? Yes, she did. No matter how much pain it might bring, she had to know what he had done with his life.
Good grief, she silently berated her selfishness. He deserved to be happy didn’t he? Did she really wish a life of solitude on him? No, she didn’t.
“Is there a library nearby?” she asked.
“In town. Would you like Gus to drive you there before you set out for the airport?”
“Yes, that would be nice.” Esa hugged the old woman again. “Thank you for your generosity.”
“Bah! Think nothing of it. What are we here for if not to help each other out?” A tender smile reached her soft brown eyes.
~ * ~
The library was huge and a bit overwhelming for a foreigner. The gracious lady at the counter was very helpful and guided Esa in the direction of the history books she’d requested. Pulling up a chair, she dumped the books on a desk and settled in.
She couldn’t breathe. Her pulse thundered as she stared at the answer to all her questions. With a shaky hand, she opened the work of famous painters to its table of contents. Jacque Cherif LaFleur, from Pillage to Paints, page 101. Good God, was she really seeing this? Her heart beat like a jackhammer against her chest.
She spent the next hour spellboun
d by Jacque’s achievements and admiring some of his most famous artwork. There wasn’t enough Kleenex to absorb the bittersweet tears.
Jacque had divorced Sophia. He never remarried. The passages reported that he was a recluse and other than painting and teaching his craft to eager children in hopes of keeping them off the streets of Paris, he didn’t socialize much. Her breath caught when she saw her portrait amongst his most famous masterpieces. Sister Mary was right; the passage said it was his favorite piece and went with him to the grave. Rumors had surfaced about the mysterious woman in the portrait and they compared it to Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. The name given to the portrait apparently added to its mystery, “Ma Coeur Attente.”
My heart waits…
Below his signature, the name Esa was scrawled inside a heart. She smiled through her sobs as she read about how everyone thought her name to be an abbreviation or secret code of some sort. Farther down the page was an inscription rumored to have been found on the back of the original as it was laid to rest with its creator.
My heart, the hands of time holds no reins upon our souls. As God as my witness and Fate as my guide, I will find you again. Love, Jacque
She pulled the last Kleenex from the box and blew into it. “Oh Jacque, I’ll miss you so much,” her voice a choked whisper.
On the next page was a portrait of a tiny Barbary monkey, perched atop one of the many hands of a Hindu Goddess. Dingo. The monkey held a paintbrush to the Goddess’ eye. Droplets of blue dripped onto his foot. In his other paw was the glossy blue pallet of paint. Yet, upon closer inspection, she could see it wasn’t paint at all, but a large round stone.
She smiled through her tears. What had become of the troublesome diamond?
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