by Tina Donahue
Such a child. Diana crossed her arms and stood her ground.
He made an extraordinarily angry noise, then lost his fight. “I want to go outside.”
“Fine. We can study in the courtyard as the children play.”
“I hardly want to go outside to study.”
“You want to take a ride?”
“No.”
Her frown faded. If he didn’t want to study or ride, only one thing remained. “Do you want to work in the fields or the stables?”
He jumped to his feet. “I want to be with Laure.”
“Sit down and lower you voice.”
“No. I want to be with Laure.”
“Gavra’s sister? Why?”
“Why do you think? I was with her last night, all right?”
No, it was not. By the color in Peter’s cheeks and the way he couldn’t look at her, Diana feared the worst. “My God, Peter, you’re still a boy.”
“The hell you say. I’m a man. You doubt it, speak to Laure; she’ll tell you the same. And you know what? Tristan not only knows about this, he congratulated me on the matter. What do you think about that?”
Tristan had a lot of explaining to do. How dare he encourage such a young boy to become a man. He should have far more sense than Peter, who had none at all. “Are you actually leaving?”
He stopped in the doorway. “What do you think?”
“Come back here.”
“No. I want to be with Laure. Stay in here until Tristan gets back.”
“Peter!”
He’d already darted down the hall to his lady love.
* * * *
“Come on, man.” Tristan smacked James’s arm. “Where’s your stamina?”
James lifted his head, then let it drop. His chin hit his chest. “My what?”
Tristan suppressed a smile. “Your endurance, or if you prefer, your fine spirit, your manly pride.”
James’s shoulders lifted to his ears. “Must you talk so loud?”
“Loudly. Didn’t know I was. Are you all right?”
He sagged to his gelding’s neck, his face pressed against horseflesh. “If I don’t keep my eyes closed, they may fall out.”
“Serves you right for drinking.” Tristan wheeled his horse around and waited for James to notice and catch up. “Did you ever think to try a book to enrich your evenings?”
James laughed, then moaned. “I think I’m about to be ill.”
“At the thought of reading?”
He swallowed hard. “When are we going home?”
“Soon as the sun sets, if our work’s finished by then.”
James groaned. “Perhaps one of the men can take my place.”
The others were just now dragging into the fields and pastures. All had been at last night’s celebration and looked as terrible as James did.
“Not likely.” Tristan rode ahead and spoke over his shoulder. “Come on, we have a lot to do.”
* * * *
Adamo frantically scooped sand aside, searching for the jewels and silks Canela had given him.
He couldn’t find them.
Panicked, he clawed deeper, certain he’d buried them here, even marked them with a small wooden cross. The thing was gone now, most likely swept away by the wind or someone’s feet.
He lowered his head, wanting to give up and go home. He needed to groom his horses, feed the pigs, store the grain, tend his garden. Tasks he should attend to, but if he came back without alerting the pirates, Canela would never forgive him. She’d hate him for losing her jewels and silks.
He wiped sweat from his forehead and dug furiously.
Small rocks fell off the rise and hit his hand.
Surprised, he lifted his face.
Gérard looked at him curiously. “What are you doing?”
Adamo’s heart pounded so hard he could barely keep from shaking, but he forced a smile. “The other day I found a shell for Canela and hid it here. I wanted to make an ornament for her hair and surprise her, but now I cannot find it. Why are you here?”
Gérard stretched and yawned. “I was looking for you. Today, I keep watch. Philippe said you have the glass.” He glanced around. “Where is it?”
With Canela. “Let me take your watch.”
Gérard’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
Adamo breathed shallowly, terrified to say the wrong thing. “Because you and I are friends. You drank last night, but I slept. I feel fine and should keep watch.”
Gérard smiled. “Merci.” He stepped closer. “Can I help you search for the shell?”
“No. Go home and rest.”
“I will. The next time you have a watch, you can count on me to take it. See you tomorrow.” He climbed the path.
Adamo’s pulse pounded wildly, his vision blurring. “Wait.”
Gérard started back. “What?”
He wanted to tell his friend about Canela’s plan, ask if he should do what she wanted, but hesitated. Gérard was also Tristan’s friend and would surely tell him about this. If Adamo tried to stop Gérard from doing so, the man might fight or even shoot him. Canela would then be free to pursue the stone house and its riches because she wanted those things as she never had her husband. Adamo wasn’t blind. She’d never love him, but it didn’t matter. He wanted Canela so badly he’d do whatever she demanded to please her, even if that meant lying to a friend or betraying his people. “I hope you have a pleasant rest.”
Gérard smiled. “I will, but only because of you, my friend.”
He’d never been more ashamed but wouldn’t betray Canela. Once Gérard had left, Adamo dug until he found what he’d buried. He couldn’t turn back now. Not if he wanted his wife.
Pushing fear aside, he wrapped a silk cloth around the items, slung them over his shoulder, and ran to where his people hid the boats.
Committed to his plan, he rowed away from the island to the one on the left.
Chapter 14
“Well what do you know.” Vincent kept the glass to his eye.
A young native man rowed this way. Minutes earlier, the savage had dug in the sand and pulled out a bright green cloth and items that sparkled like jewels. Unless they were colored glass. Vincent frowned, curious as to why the man had those things with him and why he’d bring them this way.
He checked the beach. No one watched, the bare-breasted girl gone. He left the stand and ran toward his crew.
One after the other struggled to a sitting position and stared at him, tearing down the beach like the devil was on his heels. Or there was a prize to be had.
Eighteen-year-old Howie Winters pushed to his feet first and helped Tom Ralston up. The others followed and exchanged quick glances.
Reaching them, Vincent gulped air and pointed behind himself. “A savage is rowing here from Tristan’s island.”
The men craned their necks to see past him.
Howie looked scared. “What do you think he wants?”
“We’re going to find out. Come on, you lazy bastards, let’s go.”
“Glory be.” Howie jumped from foot to foot. “Should’a worn me shoes. This sand’s bloody hot.”
Vincent pulled out his pistol. “Shut up or you’ll speak your next words around a bullet in your mouth.”
As he danced over the sand, Howie pressed his lips together and moaned softly.
When they were back to where Vincent had hidden, he gestured his men into the palms. “We’ll stay here until the savage reaches our shore.” He stroked his brace of pistols. “Then we’ll go out to greet him like the friendly men we are.”
His crew laughed softly, except for Howie who still troubled over his burned toes.
Vincent glared at the young man.
Howie forgot his pain and forced a wide smile.
* * * *
Diana stayed in the library as long as she could, and finally stormed to Peter’s room. She opened the door without knocking,
hoping she wouldn’t catch him and Laure sharing something other than a kiss.
They weren’t in the chamber. She slammed the door and hurried to Canela’s old room. The young lovers weren’t in there, either, nor in the other bedchambers or dining area.
She ran to the courtyard. Young children darted past. The last bumped into her and tumbled to the ground. After soothing the little girl’s tears, Diana crossed the courtyard to the stand where she and Tristan had made love last night. No one was there today. The women were at their usual places, working diligently, making soap, washing the men’s breeches, nursing their infants.
Back in the mansion, she found Gavra in the dining room. Diana smiled briefly, hoping Gavra knew where the couple went. “Ah, Laure and Peter—that is Pierre?”
She looked at Diana expectantly.
Taking the easy route, Diana wrapped her arms around herself, puckered her lips, and made kissing noises.
Gavra giggled, nodded vigorously, and spoke hurriedly in French.
From the few phrases Diana understood, the converse was about Peter’s conquest last night. Given his delight in being a newly made man, Diana suspected everyone but she had known the news. She struggled with the proper verb tense and sentence structure, then let loose. “Avez-vous vu Laure avec Pierre?” Have you seen Laure with Peter?
Gavra’s smile faded. She shook her head.
Diana wasn’t certain if Gavra hadn’t understood the question, hadn’t seen the two lovers, or was disturbed at the thought of witnessing them in the throes of passion. “Merci.”
She rushed outside and crossed the courtyard to its walls. Forest, sea, and little else greeted her. Damnation. She was so frustrated she hoped Canela might happen by. At least the girl knew English and might reveal Laure and Peter’s whereabouts. If Diana offered something in return, like her marriage collar.
Not bloody likely. She stopped at the forest edge. There wasn’t any movement within the shaded areas. Perhaps Peter and Laure had gone to the beach.
Diana negotiated the path leading there, then finally slowed as she considered coming upon them if they were past kissing and really involved.
She made a face, guessing Peter would rail at her. Tristan too. He’d say the couple was none of her business, her brother was now a man, and had a right to indulge in carnal pleasure. No scolding from her would stop him.
Defeated, she retraced her steps to the mansion where she’d remain as Tristan wanted and Peter surely hoped.
* * * *
With Adamo well on his way to the other island, Canela left her hiding place and ran down the path to the beach. She lifted the glass to her eye and focused on her husband.
He looked troubled or afraid.
She shook her fist. “Do not fail me. Do not—what are you doing?”
He’d lowered his head and stopped rowing. The current turned the skiff, taking it away from the other island, killing her plans.
“Row!”
His face remained down.
Coward. Fool. She raced to the hidden boats, to take his place if necessary, then checked to see if anyone noticed her. Still alone, she focused one last time on Adamo.
He’d finally looked up and rowed, righting the boat to head for the other island. His movements were hesitant and cautious when she needed him determined and fearless, willing to do whatever was necessary to deliver the isle to her.
When his skiff reached the other shore, his courage no longer mattered. Men, perhaps thirty in all, ran from their hiding place to greet him. Each had a pistol.
* * * *
Tristan and James reclined beneath a palm to eat their grapes, cheese, and bread, though James had to force each bite down his freckled throat. On an anguished groan, he sagged to the ground and draped his arm over his eyes.
Poor man was a sorry mess. “You all right?”
“I will never imbibe again.”
Tristan had heard his friend’s solemn vow before and played along. “Sobriety will surely allow you more time with Gavra.”
“Perhaps. Though I’ve hardly neglected her. She is with child.”
Tristan grabbed another grape cluster. “Are you serious?”
“Found out last night.”
“Well then, congratulations.”
James winced. “Why do you keep shouting? Are you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry.”
“What about Diana?”
“She stopped wanting me dead after that first night.”
James groaned. “I meant her condition. Does she have one yet?”
Tristan lifted his face to the gentle breeze and inhaled deeply of its sweet, clean scent. The day was soft, his mood perfect. “I promised to keep the matter between her and myself. I’ll say no more on the subject.”
“There’s no need. Congratulations to you, too, my friend. Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”
“Six of each, eventually, if Diana can stomach me that long.”
“How can she do anything but submit to her dangerous angel?”
Laughing, Tristan kicked James’s leg.
The man smiled briefly, then readjusted himself on the grass. “Have you heard about Peter?”
Had he ever. Peter hadn’t been able to stop gushing about his special night with Laure. “Had to happen. The boy will be fifteen next week.”
“You’re wrong you know.”
“Peter’s younger than he claims?”
“I’m not referring to his age but the fact that he’s now a man not a boy.”
“Quite right.” Tristan enjoyed his cheese and rice bread. “There’s no turning back for him now.”
James slid his arm to his forehead. The whites of his eyes were as red as his hair. “Do you remember your first time?”
“I was thirteen, the lady was four-and-twenty, and I wore a smile on my face for five full days. What about you?”
“My story’s similar. Though I must say I held my first love in my heart for a fortnight.”
“Fourteen days you say. My, you are the romantic. Care to read some of my poetry volumes when we get back?”
James laughed, then clutched his head and moaned. “I’d tell you to give them to Peter, but I doubt he’ll have time to read anything now. Unlike those ladies you and I first had, Laure’s not about to deliver her charms to other men. She belongs to Peter, and I’d wager they’re taking full advantage of it.”
“To the detriment of everything else.”
“Now you’ll really have your hands full getting Peter to do his lessons.”
“If pistols fail, there’s always Diana’s wrath.”
“How right you are. Give me a shot to the head any day over a woman’s fury.” He struggled to a sitting position and kicked Tristan’s leg. “Shall we get on with it? I’d like to be in bed with my woman before the moon rises.”
Tristan pushed to his feet. “I agree fully.”
* * * *
With countless pistols pointed at his chest, Adamo couldn’t move or breathe. Two men pulled his skiff onto the sand. Another took his weapon. Although he’d done this for Canela, so she’d praise and respect him, he now feared he might die. “I have come to offer you treasure.”
The pirate wearing the yellow scarf frowned, then said something in English to the man next to him.
He spoke to Adamo. “Ce que vous chérissez parlant de?” What treasure you speaking of?
Adamo inclined his head to the sack near his feet.
Yellow Scarf spoke to the other man. The pirate questioned Adamo. “What’s in there?”
“Jewels, silks, combs, and more.”
“Pick it up. Toss it to the man with the yellow scarf.”
Adamo couldn’t move. Once they had the jewels, they might shoot him, then row to the island and rape Canela. He should have considered such a possibility and spoken to Gérard or his other friends, asking them what he should do.
The pirate growled. “I
said, toss it over.”
Adamo stalled. “There is treasure in a hiding place only I know about.”
The pirate spoke to Yellow Scarf who exchanged glances with the other men. They conversed in English before the one who knew French glared at Adamo. “Toss the sack over now or you’re dead no matter how many treasures you know about.”
He obeyed and steeled himself, expecting them to shoot.
The pirates’ pistols remained trained on him as Yellow Scarf fell to his knees, upended the silk sack, and whistled at the gold, pearls, diamonds, rubies, and silks before him.
At last, he lifted his head and spoke.
The other pirate gestured to Adamo. “Where’s a savage like you get a white man’s treasure?”
He tensed at the insult, but the pistols reminded him to be humble and obedient. “Capitaine Kent.”
Yellow Scarf stood and shoved his pistol into Adamo’s temple.
The other pirate watched indifferently. “Where might we find Kent?”
Adamo couldn’t stop trembling. “Kill me and you will never know.”
The pirate spoke to Yellow Scarf who frowned and lifted his pistol to strike Adamo.
He shrank back. “Why do you want to harm me? I come to help you capture Capitaine Kent.”
Yellow Scarf kept his pistol raised. The other pirate regarded Adamo closely. “Why would you be doing so?”
“He took my people’s land. We want it back. If you help, we have gold, jewels, and silks you and your men may take to your ship, along with a white woman.”
The pirate’s attention jumped from Canela’s jewels to Adamo. “White woman?”
“One who is called Diana.”
* * * *
Diana sat on the windowsill, troubling over Peter’s sudden manhood and her own future.
For the first time, she considered what might happen when her infant arrived, other than the expected joy. If the babe were male, that might fuel Canela’s jealousy, encouraging her to do harm.
Diana considered the scenario and scowled. Canela’s envy was causing her to worry about an infant not yet born, made her a prisoner in her own home, and left her concerned about Peter’s safety. Given how besotted he was with Laure, he might not notice what went on around him. Canela might try to do him harm, simply because he and Diana were related.