A Pirate's Command

by Meg Hennessy

  “How is Loul?” he said when within hearing range.

  “He cannot lead us.”

  “This is not true.” His skin paled with a glance to the upper windows. “I appreciate his condition but he is the only—”

  “Not the only.”

  “There is someone else who can lead us?”

  She swallowed hard, keeping her nerves steady. “There is.”

  “Then who? Tell me. I will bring him about.”

  “Not a him, a her.”

  He caught her meaning immediately. Though his eyes were dark, she could see the smoldering fire simmering beneath the gentleman’s facade. His lips tightened when he stepped back, as if seeing her for the first time.

  “You are a woman. You think to dress like a man makes you my equal?”

  “You think because I am a woman, I am not?”

  He whirled on his foot and headed toward the house with Colette close on his heels. Within seconds they were standing next to the bed that held her dear younger brother, weak and wounded.

  “Young Loul, tell me how to find that ship.”

  “I can’t, Donato, it is too difficult, but Colette has seen it, she knows.” Loul forced an exhausted smile. “Move with haste, Colette, I am anxious to see Enio back home.”

  In spite of Donato’s fuming stance, Colette christened Loul’s brow with a light kiss, then faced Donato. He leaned against the wall, defeated, his eyes on Loul.

  “Then get yourself well, young Loul, for you will have to travel to Jardines de la Reina to see Enio. That is where his home is and always will be. But rest assured, I will return Colette.” He pushed away from the wall and motioned to her to follow. “Come, scout, we have to leave.”

  By the time she caught up with Donato, she was seething with indignation. She yanked on his arm. “You will not separate me from my son.”

  He spun on her. “You separated him from me.”

  “To keep him safe.”

  “Excellent accomplishment, and now we must rescue him. Let us leave.”

  “No!”

  “No?”

  “I must ensure Loul’s family is here to care for him.”

  “There are servants about. Instruct them and we leave.”

  He again turned down the hall. She caught up. “No, I must find his family.”

  “We must find our son.”

  “I love my son.” Her voice cracked slightly at his thought that she did not. “But I also love my brother.”

  Donato’s expression changed slightly, and his shoulders dropped with a hint of defeat. “How long will this take?”

  “Two miles down the road. I will make it quickly.”

  “Si, you will, because I’m coming with you.”

  A glaze of frost covered the winter-darkened oak leaves, and the sparse grass, faded and brittle, crackled beneath the weight of the horse. Appreciating the unrestrictive clothing of her brother’s breeches, Colette pulled her good leg up and folded it over the saddle, giving her some stability. The wind created by their galloping horse opened the collar of her shirt like cold prying hands and brought on a shiver. Her hair broke the confines of a loosely knit braid and fluttered around her head as they rode. She had never really enjoyed riding—until this very moment.

  The horse was tall, well-muscled, and sound, feeling more like an extension of her body. Unlike the trot, the animal’s smooth gallop made her feel as if she were flying, and the sense of freedom that came with it made her almost regret having not exposed herself to horses more often.

  “Turn here.”

  Donato made the turn and slowed the horse down to a fast trot, then transitioned into a walk. “Which one? These are slave cabins.”

  “Were. My father owned no slaves, and Jordan owns no slaves. There, the third one.”

  Donato reined up and dismounted before reaching up and helping Colette dismount, his arms feeling incredibly good. “I will be only a moment.”

  “Hurry. Once that sun hits mid sky, we have lost our advantage. This isn’t just to get Enio, Colette. My men are in danger because they tried to help me.”

  “I know you blame me—”

  “I do not blame you. I blame us.” That admission hurt him to say; she could see his jaw tighten, accentuating his high cheekbones. But to know he had not laid the burden of the situation at her feet gave her hope, reminding her of his kindness.

  “I will hurry.”

  Colette took the stairs to the house and knocked on the door. After a big welcome hug and short explanation, Loul’s aunt stated she’d be there within the hour.

  When Colette walked back to meet Donato, he nodded to indicate the woman she had just spoken to. “That explains the difference between you and your brother.”

  “His mother’s Haitian. We share a father, and though our skins are different colors, we are brother and sister.”

  “He is close with his brother, Jordan. As soon as he is able, he will get Jordan back from Boston and into this fray of ours.”

  Colette knew that to be true and hoped it would be soon. For her, having Jordan involved was a good thing, but to Donato it was not. She held her silence, not wanting to deepen the rift between him and her brothers. Right now, she needed them on the same side.

  “Are you satisfied that Loul will get help? Can we depart?”

  “Donato, it was important. I appreciate so much your helping me do this.”

  He flinched, turning away from her as if her gratitude affected him in a painful way. She could not withdraw her words, for they were spoken from her heart and meant for a man who had done kind things for her many times over.

  With the reins locked in his hands, he swung up on the horse.

  “We have lost time.” He pulled her up and situated her body close to his lap. “Steady?”

  She nodded, and a second later they were flying across the landscape atop the pounding hooves of muscle and power. Her hair flew wild around her, the moist air forcing the length to frizz and curl. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling, never realizing that riding a horse could be so intoxicating. For a moment, she lost herself in the feeling and lifted her arms into the wind and smiled.

  “Careful, pajarito mío, I do not want to lose you to the wind.”

  Her smile grew with hearing his voice calling her a little bird, caring words spoken softly in her ear. His arm around her waist tightened, and he pulled her close against his chest. The heat of his body washed the chill from the wind, and his secure hold gave flight to her sense of adventure.

  But that was always the case when with Donato. He was a powerful man whose virility protected his body like the armor of a knight, paving the way for the predictable to be as intoxicating as the unpredictable. Her sudden awareness of her past life bled through her heart and mind with a dying need for more, to quench an undeniable thirst that had remained dormant, unknown, until this very moment.

  That had been life with Donato, and she had left him.

  …

  A blistering wind struck the moment the first pirogue was launched. After the fifth raft left shore, a long, winding snake of mounted planking had been formed. Four carried men; the fifth carried supplies taken from Jordan’s warehouse. Every earthenware straw-encased demijohn from the porte cochere had been loaded. Slowly, the line began to weave through the still waters with Colette in the lead.

  Donato stood next to her, repeatedly checking their direction against the rising sun, adding to her overly taxed nervous state. Could she do this? Having made the journey once and in the opposite direction, even Loul’s descriptions did not make it any clearer.

  Donato was nervous as well, tapping his fingers along the railing of the pirogue. She wanted to reassure him, but couldn’t. Only the grace of God would get them there.

  The pirogues floated through the long, marshy grass, around tussocks, and silently grazed over the murky waters floored with quicksand. The cypress trees were close together and filled with palmetto brush, adding to the eerie shadows
that played along the water. The wind had turned cold and ripped at her clothes, leaving a chill in its wake.

  Donato took in a deep breath, drawing her attention.

  “We’re to go due east until we come to what might appear to be a delta,” she attempted to reassure him.

  “Might appear? Do you not know? That sounds like directions, not your memory.” Donato looked at her, then leaned in and whispered, “Does any of this look familiar to you?”

  Colette reluctantly shook her head that it did not. “I have only seen it once, when Jordan brought me back from…”

  “La Isla de la Luna Llena. My island,” he finished for her.

  “Oui.” She could only muster a nod.

  “And you agreed to lead my men into a swamp that could very well be their death?”

  “And mine.” She returned her focus on the muddy waters in front of her. “And mine, Donato.”

  “Foolish courage, but we must find that ship.”

  A soft reprimand, for he knew as well as she, their options were limited.

  They rode in silence, pushing through the liquid land. As Loul had predicted, the farther east they went, the darker it became.

  They cleared a small lake and glided through a long narrow inlet where gum trees and heavy willows entangled overhead to form a dark tunnel, forcing them to duck as they floated through.

  “Water’s getting shallow,” the assigned pilot whispered to Donato. “Water’s changing to dark green.”

  “Keep going,” Donato responded without consulting with her.

  Tussocks started to appear. Some they floated over, some they had to go around. Marsh grass of tall reeds began to appear looking more like a swale.

  Their pirogue halted in the water.

  The pilot turned to face Donato. “We’ve hit a shoal.”

  “A sandbank.” Donato jumped off as well as the other men. Colette held on to the railing. “Pull it over.”

  This didn’t look right. They were in some creek, way off the canal, and at this point she could not see going farther. Ahead, there was nothing but tree-shrouded banks with moss-draped branches. The hiss of the barred owls had stripped her nerves raw. Beneath her pirogue, she could sense the unpredictable tides of the bayous shifting.

  With a jerk, the pirogue was over the small reef, and the well-soaked men climbed aboard. Word was sent back through the flotilla to avoid the ridge.

  “How much farther, Colette?”

  “I didn’t think it was this far,” she confessed.

  Donato looked at her, and she could read his every thought. He looked ahead of them and to the back of them.

  “I saw nothing to be called a delta,” he validated for her.

  “Neither did I.” She appreciated him saying that, feeling the weight shift slightly from her shoulders to his.

  “Then we keep going.”

  Their forward movement lasted only minutes.

  “Hitting sand.”

  “Keep going.” The men followed Donato into the water.

  As the men pushed, Colette focused on what was before them until she heard a trickling of water, like a flowing creek. “Listen.”

  The men stopped.

  “Running water.” Donato glanced up at Colette before giving his order. “Forward.”

  She had to duck when they pushed through the pitch pine. Branches sweeping over the raft nearly knocked her off, but the tinkling sound of moving water grew as they approached. Finally, they popped free of the blinding foliage to see acres and acres of an open bog. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Donato climbed back aboard; his water-soaked half shoes squeaked as he shifted his weight. The rest of the men stayed in the water pushing the raft over the rolling sandbars.

  “Any of this familiar?”

  Colette thought to lie, but didn’t. “No, but I hear water ahead. Could it be—?”

  “The delta? Could be. Look at the embankment. It’s rising for deeper water.”

  Another fifteen feet and the rest of the men climbed aboard and the poling began again to glide them over the top of the water. They entered another shaded area, made darker by the falling sun. Then she saw it.

  The delta. It wasn’t as large as she had expected, but it had to be the place. The water ran perpendicular to the open marsh, depositing mounds of silt and mud to spread out over the embankment. Only a river would move the soil like that, and she had vague memories of having seen this before.

  “There, we turn.”

  The pilot pushed the poles and made the pirogue change direction. Going directly north from their eastern route. She held her breath, analyzing every tree, every bush along the embankment, watching for that large oak tree that Loul had described for her.

  Soon a magnificent, sprawling tree with lithely curved trunks and branches graced with moss loomed over the edge of the water like a statue of Rome, tall and majestic.

  A tingle of excitement rose from her feet to wiggle across the top of her head. Colette smiled. “There it is. We pull up here.”

  Donato looked around them. “How can you be sure?”

  “Check that tree. It should have a carving of an eagle on its trunk.”

  Donato jumped off the pirogue onto the land. He bounced on the boggy floor, but it held his weight. He plowed through the tall grass surrounding the tree until he hesitated and bent down to get a closer look. “This is it. If you want to call that an eagle.”

  Colette’s relief nearly washed her off the raft. She had to hang on or fall in the water, from the unending stress of the swamp journey.

  All the pirogues had pulled over to the embankment and were in the process of de-boarding when Donato came back for her. He stepped onto the pirogue, scooped her up, and stepped to the cushiony ground before placing her on her feet.

  “Where now?”

  “East again, a quarter of a mile.”

  “And is the ship there?”

  “Oui, in brackish water.”

  “Salt marsh. So that’s the way out of here.” He picked ten men to come with them while the others waited with the supplies. “We find it first, then unload.”

  Without consulting her, Donato swept Colette up into his arms and started tramping through the long grass due east.

  “I can walk this.”

  “No, you can’t, Colette, and as much as I appreciate your willingness to try, you will only slow us down, even in your male breeches.”

  She rode along in his arms, not protesting, knowing the walk would have been a challenge for her leg. Besides, the comfort of riding against his chest and feeling his arms around her, gave her, without doubt, the best seat in the house. “Loul said there is a tidal pool, to be careful. The ship is behind it.”

  “Probably where the salt water comes in.”

  They waded through the long grass. There was no sun, with the thick overhead trees knit above. They stirred up a whitetail deer that ran across their path, stealing her breath away. But Donato pressed on until suddenly he stopped, his gaze traveling upward.

  She turned to look.

  The ship.

  Donato lowered her to her feet. Men sent up a cheer and eagerly raced toward the ship. Donato’s warnings of tidal pools faded in her ears. Her legs would not hold her, and she started to collapse. Her mouth had gone dry, and her stomach turned into an icy knot that clawed at her insides.

  Falling into Donato’s arms, he lifted her from the damp marsh grass, but the warmth of his body couldn’t stop the images that robbed her of the present. Ships colliding, men shouting, smoke, fire, cannons, until someone grabbed her and pulled her over the gunwale and onto another ship, much like Donato held her now. The pain in her leg intensified. A cold shiver with serrated teeth cut through her body, chasing away the heat offered by Donato.

  She fought to keep the words of panic from escaping her mouth, betraying her strength, making her sound weak, weak enough for Donato to leave her behind. After a deep breath, she tried to reassure herself. She could do this; she
could once again board a tall ship. She had to, for Enio.

  “Are you all right, Colette?” Donato leaned his head down to hear her.

  “I am fine, just lost my footing.” She peeled his hand away from her arm as she steadied herself on her own feet. But the images that attacked her mind were cruel and vivid. She swayed from the impact, feeling like she was being dragged deep into the forest by a wild animal—pain—the awful pain.

  “Colette.” Donato took her into his arms. “Listen to me.”

  But she couldn’t. She was miles away, somewhere in hell.

  She twisted her fingers into his clothing, frantic for solid ground. Tears ran down her cheeks as she buried her head against his chest, whispering, “Help me.”

  “I have you. Nothing will happen to you.” He wrapped her deeply within his massive arms and held her tight against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, strong, rhythmic…soothing.

  The haunting images dissipated like fog under a hot sun, retreating to the dark recesses of her mind. But they’d be back. She drew a deep breath. Her mind slowly cleared, and sounds of the mourning doves filled her ears. Pushing her hands against his chest, she broke free of his hold and distanced herself from him.

  “I…” She stopped, not knowing how to explain herself. “The ship reminded me of the past.”

  “I know, but you will be safe with me.”

  Like he had kept her safe once before. The night of the auction, when she was to be sold, he had rescued her, but that was all she could remember of before or after, only that night.

  He had kept her safe from the pirates who had taken her ship, but now, who would keep her safe from him? Failing on all fronts, she fought for composure. She looked at him, feeling a mist rush her eyes. In his, she caught a glimmer, a tiny hint, of the love he had shown her before all of this happened, when she had lived with him on the island, unaware of her real life. “Why do you care, Donato? I know how betrayed you feel. How easy it would be to toss me aside and leave.”

  “Because I am a man of honor, regardless of what you think, and you’re the mother of my son. For that, I will always care for you.”