"Elise, what's the matter?" I heard Jean ask anxiously. "Let me take you out of here."
"No, no," I croaked, "what will people think?"
"What do we care what they think? Let them think I'm taking you home to bed, which I am."
The people in the boxes that flanked ours must have heard him, I thought despairingly, as he led me out. They must have. I wished I were dead.
The journey home through the night air restored my equilibrium somewhat, but when we were alone in our room I embraced Jean with a ferocity that surprised us both.
"Take me, Jean. Take me, right here, right now."
Without a word he dragged me to the floor and leapt on top of me. Never before had we been so violent, so pain-giving in our love. He took me with no tenderness, no caresses, and I wanted it that way. I fought him at first, viciously and senselessly, but when he forced his way into me I gripped him tightly. I wanted to feel close to him, so close that not even death could separate our fused flesh.
As he reached the height of his frenzy, I raked his back and dug into his hard buttocks with my fingernails until he cried out in pain. The storm broke over my body like a raging volcano. Shocks and tremors split my being as a bolt of lightning fells a great tree. In a few minutes we were spent, numb. We lay panting, our bodies gleaming with sweat.
"Don't send me away, Jean," I implored him. "Please don't ever send me away."
"Don't be foolish, Elise," he said impatiently. "I shall not send you away until you want to go."
"Oh, Jean, let's go home. Home to Grand Terre. Now, tonight." I knew that I would feel safe only when we were miles away from New Orleans, from—him.
"Not tonight, Elise," Jean said tersely. "We have other things to do tonight."
He picked me up and carried me to the bed. He kissed my breasts and sank his teeth into my neck and shoulders. I cried out. Then he tore into me again with a mad fury that I had never seen in him before.
Chapter 9
The Duel
The next morning Jean and I packed our things and made arrangements to return immediately to Barataria. We hardly looked at each other, and we spoke little. I wondered if Jean suspected anything about Garth, but I told myself that the snubbing, along with my real concern about the price on Jean's head, were reason enough for my worry and distraction.
Soon we were safely back on Grand Terre, busily sorting through the welter of business details and problems that had accumulated in our absence. Although neither of us mentioned the madness that had possessed us the night before, we both knew that something had changed between us. The gentle warmth had fled from our lovemaking, leaving behind it a desperate urgency and an insatiable hunger. Passion alone could not dispel the tension that existed between us.
One afternoon when we were working in the library, Jean said quietly, "I want to get caught up so that you won't have too much to do while I'm away."
"Away?" I looked up from the column of figures I was adding. "Where are you going, Jean?"
He waved his hand. "Who knows? Out to sea. I am bored with bookkeeping, Elise. I am not a banker, I am a pirate! Since we came back to Grand Terre I have felt as though I were—waiting for something. But what it is, I don't know. I don't like the feeling, Elise. I feel trapped, nervous. Life has gone dull and stale for me. I need to get away."
"It's my fault, isn't it?" I asked softly. "Somehow I'm to blame. Things are different. You've felt it, too. Tell me, Jean, what happened? What did I do wrong?"
He sat beside me and put his hand over mine. "Nothing, my darling. You are as perfect and beautiful as ever. I suppose I haven't outgrown my thirst for danger, that's all."
I looked at him squarely. "Take me with you, Jean."
"No, Elise, it's too—"
"Please."
He walked to the fireplace and stared up at his cherished Rembrandt.
"I feel it, too, Jean," I said. "The boredom, the nervousness. Don't leave me behind. If we are together, perhaps we can recapture—" I paused.
"Recapture—what, Elise?" He didn't turn his head. There was an undertone of bitterness in his voice.
"Whatever it is that we've lost," I said firmly. "You're a stranger to me, Jean. You're so distant and damnably polite that I could scream! Please don't shut me out any more. Take me with you."
He lowered his head. We were silent for some minutes, then he said, "Of course I shall take you with me, my darling."
"Oh, Jean!" I ran to him and he held me close.
"We'll set the gulf aflame with our bravery and boldness, Elise," he said with a touch of his old swagger. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, I feel like a boy again! We must leave at once. It will be good to sail again. God knows I've missed it. I was never meant to be a—a clerk!"
Jean had a frigate overhauled for our use, and he renamed her Elise. We sailed forth into the Caribbean and for three months we terrorized English and Spanish merchant ships, accumulating a fortune in prizes. I was no longer the elegant darling of New Orleans society, but a pirate's wanton: wild, dangerous, and free. Occasionally I put on a gown for our evening meal together, as a kind of cynical concession to propriety and the old days on Grand Terre, but the rest of the time I wore a loose blouse and form-fitting breeches like the men. Jean taught me to be a pretty fair sailor—although I never could learn to navigate properly—and he delighted in watching as I manned the wheel and climbed the rigging.
When we were engaged in battle I took my place by his side, and he made no objections. My thirst for danger, my lust for adventure, everything I had dreamed about as I practiced with my swords and pistols came true, and the nightmare of that violent sea battle had vanished, the addiction for danger now deep in my blood. Jean and I gulped at life's pleasures like doomed men, as if we knew that our days together were numbered.
In the course of one particularly bitter struggle for a British brig loaded with cinnamon and indigo, a pistol ball wounded me slightly. It went cleanly through the flesh of my upper arm, but the pain and loss of blood were minimal. The incident, however, drove Jean into a deep depression. The ball, which hardly bothered me, seemed to lodge in his vitals and gnaw away at his enthusiasm. His manner with me and the men became strained, and finally he insisted that I go below decks whenever we were engaged in combat.
"It's madness, Elise, sheer madness," he said angrily. "I was a fool to let you come at all. Look at you, with your wild hair and man's dress and now this—this wound! You have no business here. I forbid you to show your face above deck when another ship is in sight."
"Jean, I'm here because this is where I want to be. You couldn't have stopped me, you know that. I am a pirate, Jean, and a good one, with no fears and no scruples. Besides, I'm hardly hurt at all. You see, I can still move my arm." I winced slightly as I did so. "And it won't affect our lovemaking, I promise you."
"God help me, what have I done to you!" he exploded. "You even talk like a whore now. What happened to the sweet girl who used to dance through the halls of the house on Grand Terre in a muslin dress?"
I laughed and held him close. "She grew up and became an outlaw, that's what happened to her. Oh, Jean, do you think Governor Claiborne will put a price on my head, too? I think I would like that."
But Jean was adamant about my not appearing above deck during battles. Whenever a foreign ship came into view, no matter how small it was, I sulked in our cabin with my pistols in hand, raging at his stubbornness.
One day we sighted a sail on the horizon and gave chase. When we approached the vessel we discovered that it wasn't a merchant ship at all, but a small schooner flying an American flag. The two ships circled each other warily, and even though Jean decided that she was unarmed and not aggressive, he ordered me to go below. Furious, I obeyed him, and I paced the floor of our cabin while I wondered what was going on above my head. No shots were fired, but I knew someone from the other ship had come aboard, for I heard the splashing of oars and a bump as a small boat came alongside and tied up t
o the hull of the Elise.
The ship was very quiet. I felt distinctly nervous, and I was about to go up and investigate when I heard an unfamiliar step outside the door. I jerked my pistols up and waited for the intruder to enter. The cabin door flew open and Garth McClelland stood on the threshold. The old sardonic smile played on his lips.
I pointed my weapons at his heart. "Don't come any further, Monsieur," I said in a low voice. "What are you doing here? Where is Lafitte?"
"Your precious Lafitte has given me permission to speak with you privately, Mademoiselle Pirate," he said. "May I come in?" Without waiting for my reply he entered the cabin, looked around, and calmly sat on the edge of the berth. "Not bad. Much better than the accommodations we shared on the Charleston Belle, don't you agree? I wonder where she is now?"
My aim never wavered. "She is at the bottom of the sea, along with her Captain. If you don't get out of here you will join them, I promise you."
He glanced at my pistols. "How fierce you sound, Elise. I trust you know how to use those things. Firearms can be dangerous."
"I know how to use them," I said grimly.
"Then put them down. They have served their purpose, inasmuch as I am impressed by your bravado and have duly taken note of your intention to repulse my advances. Your pirate friend assured himself that I have come in good faith—unarmed. Won't you trust me that much?"
"No." I moved to the table, where I could rest my arms and still keep him covered.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Naturally, the Scourge of the Gulf would not let down her guard for an instant. You should hear how New Orleans is buzzing with the news of your exploits. Jean Lafitte and his Pirate Queen, the black-haired witch of Barataria. The Spaniards are particularly impressed with you. They call you the Lady Devil. I am not surprised. I always knew you had it in you to be wicked, really wicked."
I ignored the amused glint in his eye. "What did you do with my camellia," I asked coldly, "press it in your Bible?"
"Ah." He smiled. "You should have seen your face that night. As white as the flowers you wore. I couldn't help myself."
"What do you want with me?" I demanded. "Did you come here to tell me how shocked and surprised you are at the way little Elise is conducting herself on the high seas? I don't want to hear it. I am here by design, not by accident or coercion. I am a pirate and a good one. Piracy suits me."
"Piracy may be the death of you."
"So what?" I tossed my head. "I have lived more intensely in the past two years than I did in the seventeen years that preceded them."
"And loved more intensely?" he asked slyly.
"Yes, if you must know." We watched each other for a while. I was wary and suspicious, he was calm and indulgent, willing to bide his time. "Well, you have seen what you came to see. I hope your curiosity is satisfied. Please go now, Monsieur. Your company bores me. I find you dull."
He smirked. "You didn't always, Elise. I remember times when you found my company very stimulating indeed. In fact, you couldn't get enough of it."
I flushed and said quickly, "What do you want with me, Garth?"
He gave a little shrug. "I have business with Lafitte. I thought I'd pay a call and see how you were getting along."
"That's very touching," I sneered. "But I don't believe you."
"I can't help that," he said lightly. He stood up and came towards me. "My intentions are strictly—dishonorable."
I lifted my guns high. "If you come any closer I vow I will blow your head off. That's no idle threat. I've done it before."
He stood at the opposite side of the table from me. "I don't doubt it, Elise."
I jumped up and backed around the table. "Stay away from me, I tell you, stay away!"
He moved closer, backing me into a corner. My finger twitched on the trigger, and at the last moment I lowered my pistol and fired at the floor in front of his feet. The ball went wild and grazed the side of his boot, barely missing his leg. He leaped at me and gripped my shoulders in his huge hands. My wound pained me so terribly that I cried out and dropped both my pistols. He crushed me to his chest and kissed me, and I felt again the sharp stab of pleasure in my middle and the drowsy heaviness that settled in my limbs whenever I was close to him. I melted into his arms. The time that had passed since I watched them take him away to the Eureka was like nothing. Nothing had changed. I wanted him. He was like a maelstrom, a whirlwind, a fire storm. He possessed me and consumed me as no one else could, ever.
I clung to him, whispering, "Garth, oh, Garth!"
At that moment the door was pushed violently open and Jean Lafitte burst into the cabin. He stopped short when he saw us. "Forgive me," he said politely. "I thought I heard a shot."
Garth released me and I moved away from him. "Elise was demonstrating her accomplishments," Garth said. I glared at him. "Such remarkable talents!"
Lafitte smiled. "She is a remarkable woman, Monsieur. I can attest to that."
"I'm sure you can," said Garth. He grinned at me. I felt myself growing red with anger. "We shall meet again, I trust. On Grand Terre?" Garth addressed Lafitte.
Jean nodded. "If you wish it, Monsieur. If your business is so pressing perhaps we should discuss it here and now."
"No, no hurry. I can find my way out, Lafitte." Garth sauntered towards the cabin door. "Mademoiselle is bleeding. I seem to have reopened an old wound." He grinned at me and went out.
Jean helped me off with my blouse. "I should have warned you against violent exercise," he said wryly.
"Oh, the—the bastard!" I said heatedly. "How dare he come here and demand to see me privately! He is rude. He is impossible! I hate him!"
"Really? I would never have guessed." Jean dabbed at the blood on my arm with his lacy handkerchief. "You know," he said casually, "he has first claim on you. You belonged to him—"
"Belonged! Claim!" I pulled away from Jean's kindly ministrations and stared at him coldly. "You talk as if I were a piece of property, or an animal that you found wandering loose in the fields! No man has a claim on me, Jean Lafitte, not even you!"
"Oh, I know that, "Jean said hastily. "But he has come back into your life, Elise, and you cannot ignore him."
"Damn you!" I said fervently. "Damn all men! You knew, didn't you, Jean? You've always known that Garth McClelland was the man responsible for my being on the Charleston Belle. Yet you let me think it was my little secret."
"It was your privilege not to reveal his identity, Elise. The association was painful for you, and if you did not wish to be reminded of him—well, I could not blame you for that. But sailors talk, and Captain Fowler did a lot of talking before he died. Even if I didn't know before, I could have guessed after we saw Garth at the opera that night. You know how I feel about you, Elise," he said tenderly. "But he has a lot to offer a woman."
"Does he?" I asked dully. "I don't even know who he is."
Jean helped me into a clean blouse. "Well, he is the grandson of a Scottish-Irish adventurer named Stephen McClelland who came to Louisiana many years ago. He made a fortune and married a rich Creole. His son Sean also married well, and your Garth is the issue of that union. The McClellands are well established and awesomely respectable. They own vast acres of prime land about forty miles to the north of New Orleans. His father is dead, but I believe that his mother is still alive. I have heard that Highlands is a very beautiful plantation, but I have never been invited to see it."
"I don't believe it, Jean. He's no gentleman. He can't possibly be what you say he is. He has always treated me horribly. He is a brute and a bully."
Lafitte chuckled. "Perhaps you bring out the worst in him, my darling. I sense that he is not exactly immune to your charms nor are you immune to his." I snorted. "He is rich and powerful. He was instrumental in winning statehood for Louisiana, and he has friends in all the right places: the Governor's mansion, Washington. When the time comes for Louisiana to choose her representatives to Congress he will certainly be elected."
"What on earth was he doing in France?" I wondered aloud.
"Who knows? From what you have told me I would guess that he was spying on Napoleon for President Madison. The French had a strong foothold in Haiti until a few years ago, when Jefferson's federal troops kicked them out. I suspect that Napoleon wanted to try again to establish an outpost over here, a power base. Madison must have thought him a genuine threat, one that he would do anything to subvert.
"McClelland, I imagine, must have been an obvious choice to undertake an undercover role in France. He does not lack courage, he is fluent in French, and he is familiar with the political situation in this part of the world. He is an ideal spy."
"You don't like him, do you, Jean?"
Lafitte shrugged. "What can I say? We are like summer and winter, fire and ice. We are different in every way but one, I think: we both want you, Elise. He thinks I am a greedy, opportunistic bandit. I think he is ambitious, ruthless, and egotistical. We have had very little to do with one another up to now. If we ever clashed, I suspect one of us would die."
I leaned against him and hid my face in his frilly shirt front. "Oh, Jean," I sighed wearily, "what am I going to do?"
"Listen to your heart, Elise. Just listen to your heart. We have been good comrades, you and I, haven't we? If things don't work out you can come back to me. You're a first-rate pirate, you know. I wouldn't hesitate to give you a job."
"I don't want to leave you, Jean," I whispered.
"And I don't want you to go. But nothing remains the same. Times are changing, Elise. McClelland told me that Congress has finally declared war on England. There will be a dearth of merchant ships in this area for many months to come. I suppose I could become a privateer for the United States rather than a pirate. That's almost respectable. You don't want to stay around and watch Lafitte become respectable, do you?"
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