Pierre offered to escort Zoya back to her cabin and the Russian woman had no choice but to accept.
Soon Antonia was alone with her host on the quarterdeck. The only other person above deck was standing watch in the distant bow. Jean-Philippe offered her his arm and she took it, not in the way she had been taught, with only her fingertips resting on his coat sleeve, but with her hand fully tucked inside the crook of his arm. Through the layers of his clothing, Antonia could feel the occasional tensing of his bicep and it alone was enough to make her heart race.
Soon, he brought her to stand at the carved rail and they looked together out over the vast expanse of ocean. The sun had nearly set now and the choppy water was tinted coral, plum, and gray.
Antonia took a deep breath, grateful for the silence between them. Her hand remained tucked between Beauvisage’s arm and the side of his chest. She could feel the rhythmic expansion of his ribcage and, for one hot-blooded moment, Antonia imagined what it would be like to feel the hard, warm surface of his chest against her face, to kiss his flesh, to lie under the responsive length of his body.
In that same moment, gazing out at the open sea, she became aware that life might still hold possibilities for her. It was as if she could see a distant land, beyond the dread and pain of loss, where happiness waited.
“You’re going to be all right, you know,” Jean-Philippe said. Deliberately, he framed her waist with his hands and turned her so that she was looking up at him. “Your life is far from over, Tonie.” His voice caressed the name that only he used for her.
Was it possible that he was right? Just the fact that he believed it to be true buoyed her spirits. Antonia felt intoxicated. Had any man ever been so handsome, so masculine, yet so tender? In his eyes, she could see fierce desire, and yet there was more. He truly cared for her. She trusted him, had instinctively trusted him since the night at Rayne Hall when he had minced outrageously into her life and turned it on end.
“Yes.” Antonia went closer into his welcoming embrace, her hands reaching up to his broad shoulders. “I will be—all right.”
Jean-Philippe lifted her like a feather. A soft breeze came up from the ocean as he kissed her. She gave herself to the wave of arousal, opening her mouth to answer his, moaning inaudibly when his tongue found hers. Her breasts tingled, her nipples hardened, she sank her fingers into his thick, glossy hair and arched her hips against him.
The kiss deepened. He was pressing her back against the rail, touching her back and the sides of her full breasts in a way that made it feel as if her gown was being burned away.
Then, insidiously, the tiny stars began to dance again behind her eyelids, taunting her. How could this be real? A little voice asked. What will happen when you give yourself to Jean-Philippe and the chase has ended for him?
“Captain,” called a voice from the main hatch, “are you there?”
Antonia opened her eyes, took a deep gulp of the night air, and watched as Beauvisage turned his head in the direction of the voice.
“Cruikshank? What do you want?” He still held her waist, but stepped back, creating space between them. The ocean breeze wafted against her warm body that, moments before, had been intimately pressed to his.
“We’ve discovered something in the cargo hold that Pierre says you must see, sir!”
Before Jean-Philippe could reply, Antonia spoke up. “I also must go. The hour grows late and Zoya is waiting for me. No doubt she is already beginning to worry.”
He brushed his fingertips along her flushed cheek. “Tonie…”
“Thank you for a truly lovely evening.” And with that, she turned and hurried off as quickly as she dared.
* * *
Beauvisage felt baffled as he watched Tonie try to run away from him. How could she be so sweetly responsive one moment only to avert her eyes and flee the next?
“I will escort you to your cabin,” he said, easily closing the distance between them. “You must not walk about the ship on your own.”
Cruikshank lumbered along in their wake, much to Beauvisage’s annoyance, so that he had no recourse when Antonia bade the two men a polite good evening and closed the door.
“Follow me, Captain,” urged Cruikshank.
“What the deuce is it? Did we steal a chest of jewels from Ormond?”
“I’m not certain. Pierre said you must be the first to see it!”
In the gloomy, lantern-lit hold, where their own cargo of tea and fine French wine and brandy was stowed, Beauvisage discovered Lieutenant Malle and Pierre waiting for him. They stood beside the stacks of captured booty: priceless chests of tea, spices, and bolts of patterned silk, and a gem-encrusted, gold box housing several illuminated manuscripts from the Middle Ages that Jean-Philippe knew were priceless.
“Eh bien, I am here. What do you want to show me?” he demanded testily.
While the young lieutenant held a flickering lantern aloft, Pierre reached behind a chest of tea and brought out a heavy sword. With two hands, he held it toward the captain so that he could see the oxidized, double-edged blade with its mysterious engraving, and the hilt of ivory and bronze.
Beauvisage stared in disbelief. “The gladius!”
“Indeed,” nodded Pierre. “No one seems to know how it came to be amidst Conquerer’s stolen cargo.”
“Morbleu. As if I didn’t have enough to contend with at the moment…”
The cabin boy gave him a knowing look and murmured, “I begin to suspect that this mysterious relic isn’t finished with you yet, m’sieur!”
Chapter 8
All was quiet on board Pursuit when Beauvisage collapsed at last in his favorite chair. It was a relief to open his shirt and pull off his boots. The cabin was dark except for bluish moonlight streaming in through the gallery windows.
Antonia was asleep in his roomy bunk, turned away on her side and covered by a soft blanket. His gaze fell on the enticing curve of her hip. How many women had he lain with since reaching manhood? Beauvisage had lost count, yet the thought of making love to Tonie brought a surge of passion that felt both unique and complicated to him.
Leaning back, he propped his feet on the nearby bench, closed his eyes, and let himself drift. Sometime later, a noise broke into his slumber.
“Mamochka!” Antonia was crying in agonizing tones. “No, no!” She sat up in the moon-silvered bunk, arms outstretched. “Zoya! Help me!”
He was there in an instant, enfolding her in his arms. She buried her face against his chest and he felt her tears. “It’s all right, love. I am here. You’re safe. It’s all right. Shh…”
When she lifted her wet face to him, searching, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. Their mouths met hungrily in the starlight. She was pulling at his shirt and off it came. Beauvisage felt ravenous, not merely with a physical appetite, but for something much deeper. They fell back together on the bunk, still kissing. Her mouth was like honey. He was flooded with a desire beyond anything he’d ever imagined.
“My God, Tonie, I want you so…”
Her shift had ridden up and his hand found the bare flesh of her thigh and brushed the sweet, wet place that called to him. His erection pulsed with the intensity of his need to be inside her.
“Please!” She urged his mouth to her breast, whimpering.
Her nipple puckered against his questing tongue. When he continued to kiss it slowly, she opened her thighs and arched, moaning, against him. He could feel her heart beating faster, and then –
She pushed at him, gasping for air.
“What’s wrong?” Jean-Philippe drew back in alarm.
“I can’t breathe!” She scrambled free of his embrace. “I can’t…I can’t.”
“What is it?” Even as he spoke, he realized in a moment of horror what he’d been about to do. Was he mad? This was the woman of his dreams, the woman he meant to marry and spend the rest of his life with! “I’m sorry. Mon Dieu, I am so sorry. I never want to hurt you, Tonie.”
&nb
sp; She sat trembling, pulling the shift back down to cover her nakedness. “It’s not your fault. I am…damaged. I was once carefree and brave, but ever since the fire, I have not been the same. I can’t stop the dreams. I see stars when I close my eyes, and then the fears come, the choking, the horror.” Slowly, she met his gaze, her own eyes glistening. “Since I met you, it’s been worse.”
Beauvisage tried to take it in. With an effort, he resisted the urge to reach for her. “Do you know why?”
“I only know that each time I am close to you and beginning to feel alive again, I have one of those awful…episodes. The stars come first and then I can’t breathe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about the fragility of life, of love. In truth, I am afraid.”
“I love you.” He reached out to her and felt his heart leap when, after a long moment, she put her hand in his. “The night that we met, at Rayne Hall, I knew that we were fated to be together and you were the woman I wanted to spend my life with. Do you want that, too?”
“Oh, yes, I do! But, I know too well that love and even one’s life can be cruelly snatched away without warning.” She paused, tears welling up. “And, I feel…”
He waited then offered gentle encouragement. “I am listening.”
“I feel very nervous when I think about your life as a reckless pirate. I have lost so many people I love, including my beloved father who pursued risk just as you do. I long now for a home, a family, security, but you thrive on danger and adventure! In the deepest part of myself, I am afraid that I might open myself to you completely and then—”
“You might lose me?” Jean-Philippe opened his arms and she came into them. He held her close, stroking her soft, fragrant curls. “My wise mother used to say that loss is the other side of love. I suspect that fear is what holds us all back. Even the bravest, most reckless of men can panic at the prospect of becoming vulnerable to a woman they love.”
“Even you?” she whispered.
“God help me, yes. Especially me.” He sighed, smiling. “But I knew the moment I saw you that you were the woman I was meant to love. Did I not tell you?”
“Yes, but I thought you were mad.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“I…I am afraid to believe you, because it seems that nothing can change the crippling feelings that come over me. I cannot control them, no matter how I try. I can be in the midst of the most intoxicating pleasure while in your arms and suddenly it’s as if I am having a spell!”
“I am a patient man,” Jean-Philippe replied. “I will wait. Time is a great healer.”
As he continued to gently caress the curls back from her brow, he felt Antonia relax in his arms. At length, he heard her breathing change and knew she had fallen asleep. Beauvisage, however, was wide awake. She had given him a great deal to think about.
They had discussed the challenges that lay ahead for her, but he could clearly see that he had a difficult course of his own to navigate in the days to come.
* * *
In the hours before dawn, Beauvisage was back on deck, pacing under the stars. He didn’t notice Pierre approaching until the youth was right before him.
“M’sieur? May I assist you?”
“At four o’clock in the morning? I think not. Go and get some sleep.”
“May I inquire what you would like me to do with the gladius? Shall I return it to the hold or take it to my cabin?”
“No! That is, yes, keep it with you. I will deal with it soon.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Why did you let me take that cursed sword to London? I should have pitched it into the English Channel when we were en route from Calais to Dover.”
“I was not aware that you were open to advice from me on the subject.”
Beauvisage gave him a quelling glance. “I have a great deal on my mind.”
“I had assumed so, m’sieur, else we would not be on deck, conversing in the dead of night.”
“I am in love.”
“You have my felicitations,” the cabin boy replied primly. Then, clearly unable to contain himself, he added, “May I observe that you have expressed similar sentiments many times in the past?”
“This is completely different. Insolent pup, if you dare to roll your eyes at me, I shall throw you in the sea along with the gladius!” Beauvisage turned his back to him and stared out at the churning, black ocean. “I must find a priest.”
“Indeed?” Pierre’s tone spoke volumes.
“I have vowed to change myself to become worthy of the woman I love. I will not touch her until I can make her my wife, but God’s blood, I am only human! Where the devil can we find a man of the cloth?” He didn’t expect a reply, but it helped to express his frustrations aloud.
“Actually, m’sieur, I believe I saw a priest on board Conquerer…”
“What?” Beauvisage blinked in disbelief. “Are you having me on? Why would a priest be on Ormond’s ship?”
“I could not say, but your lady may have an answer. The day we sighted her on deck beside Ormond, I saw the priest standing nearby. He looked to be one of those Russian Orthodox fellows, with a long beard, black robes, and a stiff black hat.”
“If you are right about this, my problem is solved!” He clapped Pierre on the arm and sent him toppling sideways. “There’s nothing for it then. We shall have to find Conquerer again and abduct that priest. And while we are at it, I intend to return as much of their stolen cargo as possible.”
“Return it, m’sieur? I wonder now if you have lost your reason! Surely you do not refer to the jeweled box containing illuminated manuscripts?”
“I refer especially to those objects of the greatest value. I intend to prove to my future bride that I had no other motive for attacking that ship except to carry her off. What need have I for treasure when I have love?”
“I see! But, was your crew not entitled to share in the booty?”
“Pierre, you are far too young to be so greedy,” he replied lightly. “Rest easy, I’ll make certain that you and the rest of the men are properly compensated.”
The cabin boy appeared unconvinced. “Might I dare to inquire how you mean to board Conquerer in the middle of the ocean, remove a priest, and return the cargo without being discovered?”
“Oh, never fear,” Beauvisage laughed, his teeth flashing white against the indigo sky. “I have never been more determined to find a way!”
* * *
“Do you really believe it’s a Roman sword?” asked Antonia, after listening to the Jean-Philippe recount the history of the gladius.
They sat together at the table in their cabin, finishing their evening meal of smoked herring, boiled potatoes dressed with butter and herbs, pickled French green beans, a warm baguette, and a pomegranate. It was a warm, summer evening and one of the long windows was pushed out to let in the ocean breeze.
“I do believe it and so will you when you see it,” he replied. Turning sideways, Beauvisage straddled the bench and drew her into the space between his hard thighs. “But first, dessert.”
Antonia felt the proof of his arousal and her own body responded with a warm, tingling wave of desire. She softened against his chest, loving the way he curved a strong arm around her, encircling her waist, while offering her pomegranate seeds with the other hand.
“I like the way you smell,” she confessed. “Is it a special pirate scent?”
He laughed. “Of course. I had it concocted especially for you.”
“You are teasing me.” She shivered with delight as his mouth sensually touched the tender edge of her ear, then the column of her neck. Please God, she thought, just let me enjoy this. Perhaps if she didn’t close her eyes, the stars couldn’t come…
“Try to relax, Tonie-love.” Beauvisage plucked a few more juicy seeds from the pomegranate and fed them to her with juice-stained fingers.
The joy infused in those simple moments was almost too intense for Antonia to bear. How was it possible that an extraordinary
man like Jean-Philippe might love her so much that he would give up everything to make her happy, that they could create a long life together filled with laughter, passion, trust, children…as well as safety?
She sat up, disengaging from his arms, laughing nervously. “But, this is not a time to relax, is it? Pierre is coming soon with that old sword! I must pour tea.”
“True.” He was nonchalant, but she felt him watching her. Lightly, he swung his leg back so that he faced the table again. “I just remembered that you have seen the gladius before. At Rayne Hall, the night we met.”
“Oh yes, of course! Your cousin Humphrey seemed very surprised to see it in your scabbard and he looked even more shocked when you gave it to him.”
She brought cups to the samovar of red Tombak bronze she had packed in her trunks. It had been her mother’s favorite, the one she often used in the garden, and it had survived the fire.
“The tea smells wonderful. Merci,” Jean-Philippe said, accepting a steaming cup from her.
Earlier that day, Antonia had unpacked the fluted, turnip-shaped samovar and he’d listened tenderly to her memories, her childhood belief in its magical powers. When he asked her to brew tea for him in it, she had nearly wept. Was it possible that he might understand how much it meant to her to pick up this symbolic thread from her past and weave it into the present day?
Soon, Pierre appeared in the doorway with the gladius and Jean-Philippe took it and sent him on his way. He crossed to the windows at the back of the cabin, where the light was still good on this summer evening. Antonia went to join him, filled with curiosity.
At Rayne Hall, she’d had little reason to pay attention to the sword, but now everything had changed. “It is magnificent!”
Jean-Philippe nodded. “Yes. I wish I could read the inscription. How is your Latin? I confess that I never cared for it and have forgotten more than I remember.”
“My governess was a Latin scholar,” Antonia told him, beaming. “She told me that perfecting my Latin would help me learn other Western languages and she was right.”
Heart of Fragile Stars (Rakes & Rebels: The Beauvisage Family Book 1) Page 7