A Pirate's Command

by Meg Hennessy

  “I will watch my brother. It is you who must stay strong and well rested.”

  “For our son?” He asked but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he nodded that he understood. “Buenas noches.”

  “When?”

  He stood with his hand on the door, his back to her, but his shoulders tensed and his fingers gripped the edge of the door. “When what?”

  He knew in spite of his question. “When will you tell me what this is about?”

  “I do not know, Colette. I do not know.” He opened the door and disappeared into Aurélie’s room.

  …

  Donato stepped into the room of Jordan’s wife and closed the door behind him, leaving Colette in the adjoining parlor to watch over her brother. Whether Colette was concerned for Donato’s health or not, he wouldn’t stay in here. He couldn’t sleep in a bed that Jordan had. He looked around the woman’s room, very feminine, very Creole.

  He didn’t know the woman personally, but had seen her from a distance when he’d watched Enio play in the patio. But from the looks of this room, he understood the dress Colette had put on for Carnival.

  Aurélie was a woman with fire and expressed herself through her style of dress. He had seen Colette in dresses like that, when she had lived with him, and she had worn them with perfect ease, the satins and silks fitting her beautiful body like a royal glove.

  Now, back in this life she had so desired, Colette had folded up like a cheap fan, retreating into a woman he hardly recognized. But maybe he had never known her at all. Maybe the life she’d led with him had been the real lie.

  Donato walked through the upper hall, then down the back stairs and into the butler pantry. Most of the men were sleeping, some were sitting about talking, and some were not there. He didn’t care as long as they were ready in the morning, knowing none wanted to be left behind.

  He glanced up the stairs, wondering if Loul would lead them to the ship in the morning. The young brother had been unconscious since they arrived. Donato could catch his sister’s ship, but if her lead stretched much longer, it would be difficult. As it stood, twenty hours had been lost, he was already exhausted, and it was another four hours before daylight. Having no knowledge of these backwaters, he needed Loul alert and ready, but with a gunshot wound, that seemed highly improbable.

  Jordan might have some maps of the bayous in the house. Donato left the small kitchen and crossed the hall to what appeared to be a library. There was an entire wall of shelving, books, wall-hanging portraits, and statues. A prayer chair stood in the corner with a family Bible atop.

  When they had come to take Colette home and away from the island, someone had told Jordan where to find Donato’s gold. It was only fitting to return the favor and find any hidden stash in Jordan’s home. Donato opened every door, cabinet, and drawer he could find, looking for secret locks. Jordan had a ship hidden in the bayou. Why, if he was a retired swamp rat?

  Donato had nearly given up when the last peg he pushed opened a hidden drawer. Inside was a small piece of paper, folded. He pulled out the paper and flattened it across a wooden shelf. Looked like a map of France, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was about. Had to be important if stored under such conditions.

  He opened a fresh bottle of whiskey, ignoring the decanters, and poured himself another glass that tasted far better than the stuff in the parlor. He might like a man who hid his good whiskey, but it would take a hell of a lot more to make him like Jordan.

  As much as he hated to admit it, he had started to like Colette’s younger brother, Loul. Young, gutsy, a man of action who showed no fear. Donato liked that in him. But he sure as hell never would, could, or should forgive Jordan.

  Donato pulled a chair up to Jordan’s desk, liking the feel of it, of being in the house of the man who had invaded his. He studied the small map in his hand until he noticed what appeared to be a larger copy of the same map under some papers on Jordan’s desk. Maybe the maps had something to do with the fact that the family was from France. Other than that, he saw no significance.

  He dismissed the maps, looking around Jordan’s library. He wanted something to mark his presence, like Jordan had done in his home. To stake a claim of some sort. He was enjoying his idea of revenge until he heard movement from behind the door. Slowly it opened, and to his surprise, Colette stepped inside.

  “Donato, can you not sleep?”

  He shook his head. “Wanted to find where your brother kept the better whiskey.”

  He held up a glass half filled with the amber fluid as a salute to her.

  “It is better, non?”

  “Considerably.” He smiled. “Have one, Colette.”

  “I know I did upstairs, but I don’t indulge in whiskey.”

  “Shall I pour you a wine?”

  “No.” She walked into the room, her steps slow, hesitant. Stopping at the prayer chair, she made the sign of the cross.

  “Of course you won’t,” he said under his breath, remembering her love of wine while on his island. He watched her pious movement as she lightly fingered the Bible before turning to face him.

  She was still dressed in the habit of the Ursuline Sisters, but that wouldn’t have mattered. She wore her hair coiled and off her face, removing all the pretty waves that would frame her expression and accent her natural beauty.

  “I figured Jordan owed me a shot of good whiskey, considering he robbed me when he took you off my island. Who told them where to find my gold?”

  He saw Colette swallow hard after an attempt at a deep breath. But before she answered, he waved the question away, because he knew the answer and hearing her admit it would be more painful than thinking it. “It does not matter.”

  “Pirates need to be paid.”

  “Especially swamp rats.”

  “You misunderstand my brother.” Colette continued to pace around the room with slow, even steps. Her hands were folded, and she repeatedly threaded and unthreaded her fingers. She was thinking, and the dead silence nagged at him until he had to find something to say.

  “Could you not sleep?”

  “I came down for fresh water. Loul is in fever.”

  “Do you have quinine water?”

  “I do. One of your men has offered to bring it to the upstairs.”

  “But a fever, that is not good news. What does tomorrow bring us?”

  Colette shrugged. “Having worked at the hospital, I have seen many pistol wounds, but predict, I cannot.”

  “Then we will leave it in God’s hands.”

  His comment seemed to surprise her, though he didn’t know why. He was a religious man, and she knew that.

  “Oui, it is in his hands.”

  She faced him in the room lit only by a flickering lamp and the moon-washed floors. The iridescent glow glided over her face and body, highlighting her delicate features, her nose that turned up slightly. Her dark green eyes with lashes that formed little fans, shadowed her face.

  And her lips…he allowed his gaze to linger on them, knowing their taste, their sweetness that he’d never again partake. As if hearing his thoughts, her lips pulled inward and her eyebrows tilted up slightly. A question was forming in her mind. He waited, chasing away the thoughts he had of her lips, her mouth, her heated responses to the swipe of his tongue along their moist seam.

  “Do you know the why? Why he was taken?”

  He knew that the moment she had walked into the library and risked being alone with him that she was in search of information. She wanted to know why their son had been taken. A question he could not answer. She loved Enio. He couldn’t fault her for that. So did he.

  He shook his head. “I do not.”

  She turned slightly to dab at her nose. He could do nothing to make this easier. Nothing.

  “I came in here looking for maps of the bayous. But instead found maps of France. What are these maps all over Jordan’s desk?” Knowing they were not of the bayou, he succeeded in drawing her attention away from Enio, at lea
st for the moment.

  She turned and looked at them, then shrugged. “My brothers are working on a mystery. Jordan and I had been given medallions from our father. We both thought they were nothing more than our coat of arms, but learned that might not be the case.”

  Donato remembered having received an offer from a man to buy Colette for the price of a jewel-encrusted medallion. He hadn’t known it was her father who had made the offer until he had been killed. Donato had refused the sale. He had had something far more valuable, Colette. How soon he had learned her level of treachery. But he was intrigued. “What are they, if not a coat of arms?”

  “Well, Jordan figured out that if you put the two medallions together they form a map. Those on his desk are a reproduction of the original, which he has in safekeeping.”

  The original in safekeeping was now in Donato’s hands. “A map to what?”

  “Treasure.” She smiled with her statement. “It’s just nonsense.”

  “And he’s trying to figure out where that treasure might be?” Captivated, Donato pushed the other papers to the side and analyzed the maps. He could see several notations made here and there, indicating some thought was going into the project. “So that is why your brother harbors a ship in the bayous. He thinks to go after treasure?”

  “He doesn’t tell me his every thought—”

  “But you do know he keeps a ship for that purpose.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Whose treasure is it?”

  “Well, that is the question. We think it is somehow related to our mother’s family. If there is a treasure at all, it would be because of the revolution in France. We left France in the middle of the night, escaped to America. My father was American.”

  Donato finished off the whiskey, allowing it to soothe his nerves. He thought about Rayna and her motivation to come to America. Who manned that massive ship? Who had funded an expedition like that?

  Trying to silence the thoughts that kept wrapping his mind in memories of Spain, home, and the night he had left his country, he poured another drink. Colette had been talking, but he wasn’t really hearing her words. He wasn’t a man to drink, nor to indulge, but tonight it was the only thing that would keep the voices inside his head quiet.

  He glanced up at Colette, watching her move around the room, talking about the pictures that were on the wall, ancestors, people of importance to her father and the American Revolution. He didn’t give a damn about the old portraits or about Jordan Kincaid. In fact, he was dammed tired of hearing about him.

  But Colette continued to move around the room, so much so he began to think he was spinning. Was the room turning or was it really her effect on him? The habit she wore dragged the floor as she strolled, but it did not disguise her limp. At least she had removed the veil and wimple that hid her hair. It was such a shame to hide hair as beautiful as hers.

  He glanced away, not wanting to think about it, but his attention floated back to her faster than he would have liked. She was still his wife, in spite of the distance she had put between them. She was still his wife, and he had every right to take her down on the floor and make love to her.

  “Colette,” he said, startling her. She turned to face him. “Sit down, os lo ruego. You make me dizzy with your walking.”

  She angled over and attempted to slide into the chair across from him, but her leg gave out and she started to fall. Donato pushed from his chair and caught her nearly on the floor, managing to soften the impact. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders for balance. The heat of her breath fluttered against his neck and rolled down over his heart and lower.

  He felt the blood rush his face and pound through his long muscles, pooling near his groin. His skin burned where her breath skimmed across his body, and a large void filled with want of her opened inside him. He bled within; pain radiated outward to heat his face.

  He tried to dismiss every carnal thought that raced through his mind. The emerald color of her eyes deepened, her gaze falling to his lips. He pushed to his feet, breaking the intensity of the moment, the hot, sizzling moment when passion and lust drove out all rational thought and left him with a wanting that only Colette could satisfy.

  He pulled her to her feet and placed her in the chair.

  She winced, reaching for her ankle. The ankle that had been broken the night her ship was taken. But she didn’t remember that. Was it guilt that made him want to knead her muscles into submission, feeling responsible for her injury? She had no memory of that night, but the sight of her struggling to relieve the pain reminded him of the beautiful woman, battered and injured, who had been pulled from the wreckage. His fingers itched to touch her, make the pain go away, make his memories go away.

  “Here.” He pushed her hand away, reaching under the long robe to pull her foot from underneath. “You work this leg too hard.”

  “Donato…” She started to protest his touch, but stopped, leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes. “I have to keep up with a strong man who has two working legs, or I fear he will leave me behind.”

  He said nothing to reassure her, for the thought had crossed his mind. He had thought to leave her here when they left in the morning. He now knew who had his son and no longer needed to watch her. The last thing he wanted was to find himself on a journey with Colette at his side. The only woman he had ever loved…and lost.

  He massaged the muscles of her foot, her ankle, her calf, enjoying the feel of her soft, near-satiny skin beneath his roughened fingers. She felt like a glass statue, smooth, fragile, and beautiful. He remembered the many times he had massaged not only that leg, but her entire body, erasing the pain of her injuries before making love to her.

  She had a room in Jordan’s home with a vacant bed, and right now, he wanted her in it. But she made no motion to leave, instead sitting in a calm stillness. The fireplace dead, the room was silent except for the ticking clock on the mantel. She remained, sitting, looking deep in thought, twirling a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger, a habit he had noted long ago, when she was his and they had lived on the island as a family, with their son.

  He felt a pull to his emotional wall and knew a rock in his steadfast foundation had shifted ever so slightly. Whether resentment or love, something shifted, moved, and seeing her in the flesh, after so many nights of missing her, a lump grew in his chest and migrated upward until he thought he’d never breathe again.

  He’d not allow her to torture him anymore. He’d leave her behind in the morning.

  “You should check on your brother.”

  “Oui, I should.” She was quick to answer. A pretense. She knew it and so did he, but within seconds she was on her feet and on her way out the door before she hesitated, keeping her back to him.

  “I know you think to leave me behind.” She turned to face him with eyes darker than an angry sea. “That will not happen. Bonne nuit, Donato.”

  Donato nodded an acknowledgment of her warning, having made his decision the moment he touched her body and felt his weakening resolve, but to dispute her statement now would only open old wounds, something both wanted to avoid. “Buenas noches, Colette.”

  After hearing the door close behind her, Donato set the empty glass on Jordan’s desk and again focused on the mysterious maps spread atop. Donato took the smaller version he had found in the secret drawer and held it up to compare. Through the lamplight behind it, he could see the mystery. The sketch of each medallion when transferred over the top of the other formed a map.

  Donato scoured the small study, checked every possibility for hidden clues, and assembled all that he collected, everything related to a mysterious treasure. He had no real interest in Jordan’s treasure, but could see the meticulous work the man had put into solving the puzzle.

  Donato smiled, admiring Jordan’s hard work. But all would be lost.

  He had found the prize he’d steal from Jordan’s house.

  His treasure maps.

  Chapter Six

&n
bsp; Colette readied herself, not only for the journey through the swamp to find the ship, but to convince Donato to let her go at all. After he had made no claims to the contrary, she knew he planned to leave her here, waiting, dying slowly with each passing day.

  She would not let that happen.

  Her plan was simple. Loul’s fever had broken, but he was too weak to travel, and though he was willing to try, Colette would not let him risk his life any more than he had already. Donato had no idea where to find the ship, so that left her. Loul had given her the directions.

  She was Donato’s only hope. Dressed in Jordan’s clothes for comfort and armed with a pistol and dagger tied to her braces, she was the only one who could lead them to the ship.

  From a distance, she heard Donato shouting out orders in Spanish. As she approached, she could see him more clearly in the morning light. He stood tall against the rising sun, broad-shouldered and lean. The men had made a morning meal from Jordan’s supplies and were loading up what remained of the demijohns. She’d not protested taking anything of Jordan’s; her brother had robbed Donato when on the island—it was a vendetta she’d not refuse.

  Her gaze fell to his hands as he helped load the pirogue. The pain in her leg had disappeared under those gentle hands. He had a magic healing touch when it came to her body, and last night the feel of his caressing hands against her bare skin had shredded her defenses. She wanted him to glide his hands up her body like he had done in the past and kiss her passionately, in a way she’d never been kissed by anyone except him, so very long ago.

  But that was not to be between her and Donato. She had left him because of the man he was, and he would never forgive her because of the woman she was. They were from different worlds, and the merging of the two would never happen…again.

  He turned, noticed her standing near the front gate, and took a purposeful stride her way. She knew he’d be angry to learn she was his scout and that Loul’s journey ended here. A fact he’d have to accept. Her other worry, Loul. She refused to leave Yellow Sun until she had the assurance that someone was taking care of him, but finding his mother’s family would burn valuable daylight, an obstacle Donato would not find palatable.