Savage Surrender

by Natasha Peters

  I couldn't answer him.

  Two days later we anchored at Grand Terre. I saw as we entered the harbor that Garth's schooner was already there. He was waiting to greet us on the beach. Two of Lafitte's men stood near him with their pistols drawn.

  "Ah, Monsieur McClelland, welcome to Grand Terre," said Lafitte graciously. "You must forgive my men. They were unsure if you come here as friend or foe, and they wisely waited for my return to find out. Will you come up to the house?"

  We walked up the beach together. I wasn't fooled by Jean's casual manner. I knew that he was as tense and uncomfortable with Garth as I was. Garth, as always, remained a mystery to me. He seemed relaxed and unconcerned about Lafitte's armed warriors, and when I looked up at him I saw that he was gazing down at me with a curious little smile on his lips. I stiffened and turned my attention once again to Lafitte.

  We entered the house. Garth glanced around quickly and lifted one eyebrow. I supposed that he was impressed by the richness and grandeur of a pirate's dwelling; everyone was when he saw it for the first time.

  "My humble house is yours," said Lafitte. "Lily will show you to your room. You may want to bathe and change before dinner."

  "There is no need to trouble yourself," Garth said. "What I have to discuss shouldn't take long."

  "Oh, but we must dine first," Jean told him. "I hate to talk business on an empty stomach. Besides, Mademoiselle is tired and so am I. We need to refresh ourselves."

  "Of course." Garth bowed slightly. "Until dinner, then." He followed Lily up the stairs to his room.

  "Why did you invite him to stay?" I hissed at Jean when Garth had gone. "Why don't you just hear him out and then get rid of him? I—I don't want him here."

  "Elise, my dear, I would not like it said that Lafitte ever refused his hospitality to anyone, particularly a friend of yours."

  "He's no friend of mine," I said quickly. "I hate him!"

  Lafitte grinned. "You have a peculiar way of showing your hatred. To throw yourself into your enemy's arms like that: what a clever strategy!"

  "That was an accident," I said impatiently.

  "I see." His tone was grave. "The boat lurched and threw the two of you together."

  I looked at him, exasperated. "I never could fool you, could I, Jean?"

  "No, my darling. You may be a fine pirate, but you are a terrible liar."

  We had sherry in the library before dinner. Jean still resolutely avoided any talk of business, and so the three of us chatted about nothing in particular—politics, painting, the forthcoming opera season. I suspected that Lafitte was trying to unnerve his guest by postponing their confrontation, but Garth was unperturbed. He ate well, complimented his host on the fine food and wines, and seemed quite willing to let Lafitte make the next move.

  I tried hard to hide the uneasiness I felt. I knew I looked my best—I was wearing a superb gown of blue watered silk with a scandalously low décolletage—and I was glad that Garth could see how I was thriving as Lafitte's mistress. But halfway through dinner my wits deserted me. I was so preoccupied with what I thought was the real purpose of Garth's visit that I contributed hardly anything to the conversation. Finally Jean suggested that we adjourn to the drawing room.

  "Perhaps Mademoiselle would prefer to be excused," Garth suggested. "Our discussion might bore her."

  Jean looked at me fondly and smiled. "Elise is my partner and my confidante. She knows all my secrets, and I greatly value her advice."

  "Really?" Garth seemed surprised. "Then by all means, if she is willing—"

  "Yes, of course," said Jean, "if you are willing, Elise."

  I was annoyed. "I wish you would stop this nonsense. Of course I am quite willing to hear what Monsieur McClelland has to say. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  I led the way to the drawing room. Jean handed around brandy and offered his guest a cigar. When we were settled in our chairs, Jean blew out a cloud of smoke and said, "Now, then, Monsieur, what brings you to Grand Terre? How may we help you?"

  Garth studied the amber liquid in his glass. "Monsieur, not three weeks ago you captured a ship called the Mont Olive, did you not?"

  Jean frowned and looked over at me. "Did we, Elise? I cannot recall."

  "Yes, we did, Jean," I said. "She was sailing under a Spanish flag, remember? Carrying cocoa, coffee, cinnamon and indigo."

  "Ah, yes, I remember now." Lafitte nodded briskly. "A fine ship. In fact, she is lying in my harbor at this very moment. I liked her lines and her speed. She wasn't fast enough to outrun the Elise, but she made a valiant try."

  Garth smiled wryly. "I am glad she met with your approval. However, that ship and her cargo are mine. I must ask you to return them."

  I felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Garth hadn't come here to claim me, as I had feared, but to talk about his silly ship. I was safe from him.

  "Return?" Jean peered through a blue haze of cigar smoke." But my dear sir, I do not understand. This was an American ship flying a Spanish flag, was it not? To me this means only one thing: that she was engaged in smuggling. I am truly sorry that the loss was yours, but when one thief falls victim to another thief, who can pity him? This is a chance you took when you decided to engage in this rather nefarious sideline, mon vieux. I can only wish that next time you may have better luck."

  I sipped my brandy. "It seems to me that Monsieur McClelland is taking rather a chance, Jean, confessing to smuggling when an election is so close at hand. Whatever would your good citizens think, Monsieur, if they found out that the man whom they intend to elect to the United States Congress is no better than a common—pirate?" I smiled slyly. At my side Lafitte chuckled.

  Garth took a long pull on his cigar. "Sin is a very attractive prospect for most mortals, Mademoiselle, as you have surely learned. I would hope that the voters would allow me to indulge my little hobby and not think too harshly of me. However, I had a great deal invested in this enterprise, Monsieur and Mademoiselle, and at the moment I can ill afford the loss. I must ask you once again to return the ship and her cargo to me."

  Lafitte spread his hands. "Monsieur, you ask the impossible. Your goods have already been converted to cash. And I have taken such a liking to the Mont Olive herself that I must reluctantly refuse to part with her."

  "When one plays with fire, he should not be surprised if he gets burned, right?" said Garth with a little laugh. "You will forgive me for saying so, Monsieur Lafitte, but you have a rather ungenerous spirit."

  I took a breath. For a guest to say such a thing to the man who has just entertained him in grand style is unforgivably rude. I half expected Lafitte to order him out of the house.

  But Jean only shrugged his shoulders and said, "I regret that you find me so, Monsieur, but there is nothing I can do."

  "Monsieur McClelland's pride has sustained a rather serious blow, I suspect," I observed coolly. "He has forgotten his manners."

  Garth favored me with a chilly smile. My heart thumped. "I realize that it is impossible for you to restore my possessions to me, and I can understand that. But perhaps you will consider a form of—compensation."

  "I might consider it, Monsieur." Lafitte drained his brandy. "What are you asking?"

  "Jean!" I spoke sharply. "He doesn't deserve a sou, you know that."

  Garth said calmly without looking at me, "I would accept—Mademoiselle Lesconflair."

  I could feel my color rising. "What audacity!" I breathed. "How dare you!"

  Lafitte was shaking his head. "That won't do, I fear. You want to be paid in kind."

  "Not necessarily. I think Elise for the Mont Olive and her cargo is a fair exchange. After all, you won her as the spoils of war, did you not? And I think she wants to come with me, don't you, Elise?"

  I jumped out of my chair. "I don't! You lying bastard!"

  Garth grinned wolfishly. "Come, come, Elise, let's not descend to name-calling. Monsieur Lafitte is a fair man. He won't keep you against your wil
l."

  "I warn you, Monsieur," Lafitte said with dangerous calm, "you are being insulting. I must ask you to leave my house."

  "But you will consider my request." Garth stubbed out his cigar.

  "Certainly not. Mademoiselle has said that she does not wish to accompany you, and that is that."

  "Then," said Garth, rising slowly, "if you will not compensate me for my loss, Monsieur, I must demand satisfaction. You are a thief, Lafitte, and I was your victim. You have insulted me by robbing me. I cannot in good conscience allow this slight to my honor to go unredressed."

  "Your honor!" I cried. "And when did you become so concerned with honor, Garth? Your whole life has been a mockery of honor!"

  "How do you come to know so much about my whole life, Elise?" His blue eyes flashed. "Well, Monsieur," he said to Lafitte, "will you give me satisfaction?"

  Lafitte rose and tugged at his cuffs. "With the greatest pleasure, Monsieur. Swords or guns?"

  "Your choice." Garth sounded uninterested.

  "No!" I grabbed Jean's arm. "This is madness, Jean. Don't let him trick you into fighting. This is what he's wanted all along, surely you can see that? This business about the ship was just a ruse. He came here to kill you, Jean!"

  Lafitte looked at me sadly. "My poor darling, do you think I am stupid? I knew this was inevitable that night we saw him at the opera. He wants you and I have you. This quarrel is as old as mankind. Don't be frightened."

  "Frightened!" I gasped. "I am not frightened at all. I am simply aghast at your childishness. Both of you! I am not a slave or a piece of chattel. How dare you fight over me, like two dogs over a bone? I don't want either of you, do you hear me? I refuse to allow this. I won't go with Garth and I won't stay here another minute. Stop this nonsense at once!"

  Lafitte said to Garth, "I should like the thrill of running you through, Monsieur. I suggest swords. I have a splendid collection. I am sure you will be able to find a blade that will meet with your satisfaction."

  "Shall we arrange a time?" Garth asked off-handedly.

  "Time? The time is now, Monsieur. Unless you feel that you would like to issue a more formal challenge through your seconds—"

  "Not at all." Garth looked amused. "I find the rigid formality of duelling tiresome. I prefer to fight, not to negotiate."

  "Good," said Lafitte approvingly. "So do I. Will you come with me, Monsieur? My ballroom is a fine place for duelling, as Mademoiselle knows. Elise, I will ask you to wait here."

  "I shall do no such thing!" I said furiously. "This—this worm has maneuvered you into a trap, Jean. How could you let him do it? I wash my hands of both of you! I hope you kill each other!" I clutched his arm. "For heaven's sake, Jean, be reasonable!"

  Jean cupped my chin in his hand. "Elise," he said softly, "you are a fine pirate, as brave as any of my men, but at this moment you are acting just like a woman. Have you so little confidence in me? Don't you know by now that I would fight to the death for you? Now, if you don't stop your nagging so that I can concentrate on the fight I shall lock you up, is that clear?"

  "Oh, Jean!" I stamped my foot. "Please listen—"

  But he didn't listen. He was too bent on slaughtering his enemy to pay any more attention to me. The two men pored over Jean's collection of weapons for nearly an hour, discussing the merits of each blade as though there was a sale in the offing and not a killing.

  Jean hefted a broadsword. "This is my favorite. She sings when she cuts the air, Monsieur. Listen to that. I have killed a hundred men with this sword."

  "They must have been very slow-footed men if they couldn't avoid getting stuck with that thing," Garth remarked. "It's as big as an oar."

  "Perhaps," said Lafitte, "but it can lop off a man's head with a single swipe, cleanly and swiftly. A sword like that is more like an ally than a weapon."

  "It is indeed," Garth admitted grudgingly. "May I?"

  "Of course."

  Garth balanced the sword in his hand. His eyebrows moved up a half an inch. "God, it must weigh a good ten pounds."

  "Fifteen, Monsieur. But of course, if you prefer something lighter, I have some very fine rapiers."

  "No, I like this one, I think." Garth slashed the air with the heavy broadsword. I cringed: I could almost feel the blade cutting into me. "I think it would be only fitting to decapitate you with your own sword, Monsieur Lafitte. I would not want you to suffer unduly."

  "Have no fear of that, Monsieur McClelland," Lafitte laughed. "This thing cuts deeply and fatally. You will not escape with just a prick or a shallow wound." He shed his coat and his frilly white stock and picked up another broadsword. "Where would you like me to dispatch the remains?"

  "There is no need for you to trouble yourself about that, friend," Garth told him. "I plan to live a good long life and die in bed." He flexed his brawny arm. "Would you like to bid farewell to your lady?"

  "I think not." Lafitte smiled at me. "I shall enjoy her favors more after I have rid us of the nuisance that has plagued us these many months. Shall you give me a kiss for luck, Elise?" he asked gaily. I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. I did not want to upset Jean: any needless distraction might cost him the fight.

  They saluted each other and lifted their blades. "En garde, Monsieur Smuggler," said Lafitte through his teeth. All traces of humor were gone now. "It is with the greatest pleasure that I hasten your journey to Hell."

  "You will get there first, Monsieur Pirate," said Garth grimly. "And I pray you will hold the door for me."

  I closed my eyes briefly and prayed for an earthquake or a hurricane, anything to stop this madness. I did not want Lafitte to die. He was everything to me: love and friendship and trust. And yet, when I heard the first deafening ring of their blades, I knew that I did not want Garth to die either. I didn't want to lose him again. I needed him. I desired him.

  They circled each other warily at first, testing each other. I feared that Garth might have the advantage in size and strength, but I had forgotten just how quick and deadly Jean could be. He was beautiful to watch, graceful and agile as a cat. But even as he fended off the first of Garth's mighty blows I could see his arm quiver. The fair-haired man was as fierce as a lion and as strong as a bear, and I believed that it was only a matter of time before he wore Jean down.

  Each man wore a look of intense concentration on his face. Once, when he dodged a deadly sweep of Garth's blade, I saw Jean beam joyously, but that was the only time he allowed himself any show of satisfaction. Garth drove him mercilessly. His mouth was set in a grim, determined line. He wanted Lafitte's blood, but Jean showed no fear. Jean was truly brave and fearless. He would go to his death thinking that no man could equal his strength and skill with a sword. I wished I had his confidence.

  They began to tire. Jean wearied first, for Garth's aggressiveness put him immediately on the defensive. He had to parry and block Garth's hacking blows, but every once in a while he managed to get in a thrust of his own. His victory would come with one of those cunningly placed thrusts, if he could get close enough. Garth's face began to show signs of strain after they had been fighting for ten minutes and he hadn't even touched Lafitte. He pursued the pirate with great leaping strides. I had to admit that he was a magnificent animal, sleek and hard and ferocious. His muscles rippled under the tight dove-gray breeches that fit him like a skin. He, too, would go to his death thinking himself unequalled in battle.

  Soon their white shirts were sodden with sweat. They were panting, their steps were slower, but as yet neither man had scored a touch on his opponent. My body was so tense and tight as I watched them that it ached, but I couldn't relax. I felt that two sides of my own nature were warring and that I was being torn apart.

  Then Garth lunged at Lafitte, who skipped lightly to the side. The point of Garth's blade caught Jean under the ribs. He began to bleed.

  "Do you surrender, Lafitte?" Garth demanded in a breathless gasp.

  Lafitte shook his dark head. "To the death, mon
vieux. I can accept nothing less, because I do not know when I have enjoyed a duel so much."

  Garth charged again. Instead of backing up this time, Jean dodged to the side and transferred his sword to his left hand. He ducked down and thrust his blade at Garth, who turned nimbly and brought his own sword down on Lafitte's head as if it were an executioner's axe. I screamed, but I'm sure neither of them heard me. Lafitte slithered away from the attack and switched hands again, and this time he was close enough to his opponent to administer a swift thrust. Garth saw it coming and jumped aside, but the top of Lafitte's falling sword caught his thigh. Garth stumbled but did not fall, and blood oozed out of his wound and trickled down his leg to his boot.

  "Touché," Jean breathed. "And now I will finish you."

  As he leaped to the attack I saw him falter. His shirt was crimson, soaked with blood. Garth's sword had cut him deeper than he knew. I saw that Garth, too, was beginning to sway unsteadily. They were hurt and exhausted, but they continued to chop away at each other with maniacal dedication. I couldn't watch them any longer.

  I threw myself between them and raised my arm to fend off one of Garth's deadly blows. He caught himself just in time and flung his sword away. "Stop it!" I shrieked. "Stop it at once!"

  I fell against Jean, who groaned and muttered something incoherent. His sword fell heavily to the floor.

  "Stop it," I cried. "For the love of God! I'll go with you, Garth. Now, tonight, any time you say. I promise you!"

  "Swear it," he wheezed. "Swear it, Elise!"

  "Yes, yes, I swear. I'll swear anything, only stop this foolishness. You are no better than savages. For shame, both of you!" I turned to Jean, whose eyes were glazed and who was beginning to shiver. He had lost a lot of blood. I ripped off the ruffle of my petticoat and pressed it to the hole in his side. "Dear Heaven, Jean," I sobbed, "what good are you to anyone if you're dead?" I helped him to a chair.

  I shouted at the servants who were clustered in the doorway to bring blankets and some brandy. Lily seemed to be the only one who had her wits about her, and she ran to obey. I looked around to where Garth was leaning heavily against the wall, panting.