“The only way to get it out is to slit it open,” explained Molly beaming proudly.
“Thank you, Molly. What would I do without you? Now sit down,” Angela said patting the edge of the bed, “and tell me everything that happened while I was unconscious.”
“Well. . .” the maid began not exactly anxious to relive this particular day. “They took us on that pirate ship along with everything that they could carry off the Dark Lady. An ugly, dangerous lot they are too! I don’t like it one bit!”
“Neither do I but we are stuck here temporarily. Do go on.”
“Then they blew the Dark Lady to smithereens. It didn’t take long for her to sink.”
“Damn, they scuttled her!”
“Yes. We sailed for most of the day; must have passed a hundred islands, little spits of sand in the ocean. Then they turned into a sort of hidden cove and anchored. Well here we are in that ugly little Frenchy’s house locked in our rooms.”
“Did you see anyone from the Dark Lady on the pirate ship? Is everyone dead but us?”
“No,” Molly stated. “If anyone else survived I didn’t see them. Poor Angus! Poor Captain Darnell!”
A loud knock sounded on the door and a key was inserted into the lock making only a small click. It opened slowly and Gaston Laporte stood there for a moment surveying the scene before entering the bedroom with his exaggerated limp.
“Ah, Your Grace, I see you have recovered from the excitement of the morning. You look entrancing and much calmer than before.” The words slid from his throat with an oily smoothness. “And how are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Angela watching his every movement. This was an enemy. The more she learned about him the better she could protect herself and the children. “Suppose you tell me. What do you plan to do with us and when can we leave?”
The awful smile that affected only one corner of his mouth, the other side dragged downward in a perpetual distortion, crossed his face. “How direct and to the point you English are, so matter-of-fact about all your affairs. Shall I soothe your mind?” He sat on one of the chairs near the bed carefully crossing his bad leg over his other one. “I will request a ransom, a very large one, in exchange for you, your two charming children, and the servants. Until it arrives you shall all be my guests here.”
“With locked doors?” queried Angela, positive that more lay hidden beneath the surface than he was telling.
“You are very astute,” Laporte observed letting his cold eyes slowly size her up.
He had never met a woman like her before. By the time he and his men boarded the ships the women were usually having hysterics, screaming and crying for mercy. But this one had not only beauty but courage. She had defended herself fiercely with pistols and her bare hands even though wounded. A fitting match for Scott Harrington!
The thought of her husband sent a vicious look fleetingly over his face. He concealed it immediately behind outward formality but Angela had seen it and he knew she had. So she was intelligent as well—a formidable adversary. The game grew more complicated and enjoyable with each new discovery. After all what was a battle without a worthy opponent?
“You may have the freedom of the island, but I would advise you not to venture outside the house alone. My men are not angels and you wouldn’t want to be dragged into the bushes and ravished would you?” That brief grimace again as he attempted a smile. Angela shuddered inwardly with revulsion each time she saw it. “As for trying to escape—no, don’t protest. A woman like you would naturally try it. We are on a small cay, surrounded by water. The only way off is by boat. I have ordered all the small boats to be chained and locked; and, of course, my ship is always manned by the crew.” With a shrug of his thin shoulders, which was an irritating habit, he continued, “So you see you have no choice but to remain here as my guest.”
“Your prisoner!” Angela spat, her eyes cold with fury.
“Au contraire. You will be accorded every courtesy. The slaves have been instructed to care for your every desire.” Getting up from the chair Laporte crossed to the door and opened it. “Bring him in now!”
“Ezra!” The cry was torn from Angela’s throat as the huge man shuffled in and relief made her go limp. But something was wrong; his amber eyes were vacant and his mouth slack. His movements usually regal and precise were slow and haphazard. There was a bloodstained bandage around his head. Had the blow affected him?
“The man is your slave?” inquired Laporte watching her as ever.
She looked at Ezra again and he flashed a lightning-quick wink at her, his face momentarily assuming his old alertness. Then the eyes went vacant again so that when Laporte’s glance fell on him he was as before.
“Yes,” Angela said decisively, thinking fast. “Simple-minded. He was useless in the fields and I was considering selling him but the children became fond of him, like a pet, so we keep him. He’s entirely harmless—like a big, good-natured dog and devoted to the children.”
“Just what I thought,” said Laporte. “He doesn’t talk much does he?”
“No.”
“I shall leave you now. Here are the keys to your rooms. You may do what you wish within the limits of common sense. Shall I have dinner sent up?”
“Yes, please,” she said watching as he left the room. “Quickly, Molly, make sure he has left and no one is listening at the door and then lock it!”
Molly did as she was told informing her that the coast was clear and locking the three of them into the room.
“Ezra!” Angela held her hands out to him and he smiled kneeling beside her bed and kissing both her hands. “I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life! I thought you were dead! Did you see what they did to Angus and the captain? It was horrible! How did you escape?”
“By pretending to be an idiot!” Ezra laughed. “I was desperate.”
“How clever—and what an actor! I thought you had lost your senses from a crack on the head. What can we do? We must get away. I don’t trust Laporte at all. I feel like he is playing with me and when I find out what is afoot it will be too late.”
“Yes, I got the same impression and I think it has to do with the two previous attempts to capture the Dark Lady. But it’s going to be difficult to get away. I wasn’t watched very closely today since they think I’m a halfwit and I managed to get a look around.”
“Searched out the lay of the land?”
“Yes, exactly. I pretended to be inordinately fond of collecting sea shells and wandered off. The island is not very big, maybe five miles around. Most of the pirate crew live in cabins on the other side, well away from Laporte’s house—doesn’t want his view spoiled by a lot of riffraff. He’s got this place rigged up like a museum. You should see the paintings downstairs! He must choose the best of the booty for himself.”
“How do we get off?” asked Angela concentrating on every detail.
“The only way is by sea and all the damned boats are chained up tighter than a miser’s strongbox. We can only hope someone will get careless. . .”
“And if we can get a boat—what then?” ’
“That’s the problem. There are armed guards all around the house and you would in all probability be followed. Then we would have to know where to head for. At the moment I’m not quite sure where we are. I have a sneaking suspicion that we are in the Bahamas and if that’s the case we could head northwest and hit Florida—but I would like to make sure.”
“Yes,” Angela pondered. “So would I. We must plan everything with care. Laporte’s no fool! He’s asking for ransom but there is probably not enough gold on the whole of Jamaica to meet his demands. That will mean sending to England for the money which may give us the time we need, but then again there’s no telling what a pirate may do.”
“Except the unexpected is what I say. I think he has more up his sleeve than his arm!”
“I feel like someone is walking over my grave every time I see him!” she said shuddering delicately
.
“An ugly character. I heard he got that way in a fight with a man as vicious as he is. Cut him up frightfully and crippled him for life—now he is out for revenge. How is your shoulder?”
“All right I guess. Molly said it was just a flesh wound though it hurts like the devil right now!” She leaned wearily back on the pillows.
“I heard how well you fought. That’s all the pirates can talk about. They think you’re some kind of a sea-witch and a lot of them think you will bring bad luck to their island. Humm,” Ezra contemplated, “maybe we can play on that fear and stir up a nice little mutiny. . .”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Angela laughed.
After Angela tucked the children into bed for the night she peeked cautiously out her bedroom door into the dimly lit hall. Ezra lay curled on a pallet in front of the children’s door and he looked up at the slight noise, flashing a brief smile as she confidently closed and locked her door. What a relief to know he was there only a few feet away if she needed him. Nothing would get by Ezra in the night. The fact that he had chosen to guard Robert and Lorna with his life had inspired the utmost confidence in her. He knew how much the children meant to her and that their safety was more important than hers.
Settling herself into bed and arranging the netting she let herself drift. True to his word Laporte had sent dinner up, expertly prepared by his staff. The slaves had glided in and out silently as if afraid of their own shadows—and no wonder considering who their master was. Afterward Molly had changed the dressing on Angela’s shoulder and she had insisted on a mirror so she could inspect the damage. It wasn’t bad at all and if it didn’t get infected she should be as good as new in a few days.
Looking down at her wrist in the candlelight she mused that when she was an old woman she would have fascinating tales to spin for her grandchildren. Then Angela smiled at the thought: here she was only in her early twenties and she felt old in experiences. This was no worse than what had happened with Jack, in fact there was a greater degree of comfort here than in the cold shack. But Laporte was not a man she could easily entrance like Jack and even if he was she wouldn’t have wanted to.
Blowing out the candle she closed her eyes and let scenes flash brilliant in the darkness. She hadn’t thought of Jack in a long time and was surprised to find the memory was still painful. Time was supposed to heal wounds like that according to almost everyone who had tried to comfort her after Scott’s fictitious demise. But Owen had been right, some things are always alive, though dead, and some people make impressions that are never forgotten.
Bougainvillaea bloomed fuchsia against the cream-colored walls of the garden, each one of the profuse flowers like a tiny open heart dripping blood. The delicate scent of jasmine perfumed the gently stirring air and a sun the color of butter beat down with the heat of midday. But the garden with its small pond filled with water lilies and the overhanging trees kept the atmosphere pleasantly cool. Sitting on a stone bench beneath a tree Angela smiled on the children’s antics as they capered all over the garden chasing butterflies.
It was two weeks since their arrival and her shoulder was healed leaving only a nasty red scar that would fade with time. Her daily encounters with Laporte when he came to inquire after her health left her no more enlightened than the first. He was always polite and distant which was just fine with Angela. The less she saw of him the better! He seemed to realize that and never stayed longer than necessary.
She had written to Matthew Grey in Jamaica telling of her plight and requesting him to take care of the matters relating to the ransom demand. How the letter got to the island she had no idea but not long after that the reply came, commiserating with her plight and assuring Angela that everything would be taken care of as quickly and efficiently as possible. She didn’t know how much Laporte had requested nor did she care. Any amount would be cheap to get off the island and away from him and his cohorts.
In order to avoid running into him she and the children kept to themselves dining in their rooms and venturing into the garden for exercise. Ezra kept her informed of what was happening outside their confined world and that wasn’t much. No one had been careless about leaving the boats unchained, the threat of death probably hung over their heads if they did. So Ezra continued to play his idiot’s role and the pirates became accustomed to seeing the big slave muttering incoherently to himself as he combed the beaches for shells.
The door in the wall opened and Angela looked up expecting Molly or Ezra only to find Laporte. Her face fell and this seemed to amuse him as he came toward her and sat down on the bench. She made a quick move to get up but his hand clamped around her arm surprisingly strong in spite of his delicate appearance.
“Take your hands off me right now or I will make both sides of your face match!”
“Do I disgust you that much?” Laporte’s pale green eyes slithered over her and he grabbed her other hand before she struck him. “You wouldn’t want the children to witness any more unpleasantness would you, chérie?”
His hands made her flesh crawl and the use of that deliberate endearment made her shudder against his restraint. So Laporte was making a move at last and she didn’t like it at all. Why did men always demand more of her than she was willing to give? Why couldn’t they leave her alone? Angela tried to pull from his grasp in a silent battle of strength and wills but he held fast bruising her flesh.
“There is no need to get upset. I wouldn’t have touched you if you hadn’t tried to run away. If you will stay here until our conversation is finished I will let you go.”
“Very well.” Angela compromised rubbing the marks on her arms. “Say what you want and then get out!”
“But after all, this is my house and you are the guest. Are you going to throw me out of my own house? Will you get your half-wit slave to do it or will you do it yourself?”
“Damn!” she cried exasperated at the way he had of fencing with words. “Get to the point and make it short!”
“So you don’t appreciate my presence or my feeble attempts at humor—no matter. I am in charge here and what I want I get!” Laporte smiled briefly and Angela looked away revolted. “My face doesn’t please you? I assure you that it used to be much easier to look upon not long ago but I lead a violent life. Tell me chérie, what would you do if someone scarred you like this?”
Angela looked him full in the face deliberately staring at the deeply puckered scar that disfigured one whole side of his face. “The man would not be alive today,” she said simply. “I would have killed him with my own hands.”
“But, unfortunately, my adversary has vanished off the face of the earth. I do have, however, something very precious to him—perhaps more than his own life.” His eyes were amused although his face was grim. “So I can and will exact my revenge!”
“Why tell me about all this? I am not in the least interested and what happened to you has nothing to do with me.”
“Oui, you are right but you are such a bloodthirsty little animal I thought my plan might interest you. But no matter.” Laporte stood up and looked down at her with something between regret and disdain. “I won’t bore you any further. You know it really is a pity you took an instant dislike to me because I think we are much alike. What a pair we could have made!”
“Us—alike? You are insane,” Angela said springing to her feet. “You insult me by the comparison, you bastard!”
He listened to her long string of insults and when she paused for a much needed breath said, “You are a duchess? I thought maybe a fishwife—even my man would be shocked at the language you have just used to describe me.” He gave a short laugh. “But I am enchanted because it proves that you are not indifferent to me. You are spectacular when you are angry, rather like a hurricane flashing silver-white lightning.”
She felt like screaming; she insulted him with the vilest words dredged from her memory and he complimented her. As quickly as the lightning he likened her to she slapped him across his scarred f
ace making it uglier still with the red imprint of her hand. After his first reaction of surprise, Laporte drew himself stiffly up to his full size gazing at her with eyes more dangerous than any she had ever seen.
“You will regret that, chérie,” he said evenly in the usual distant manner. “But let me get to the matter I sought you out for originally. I would like to invite you to dine with me tonight, just a small party for some of my friends.”
“You know what you can do with your dinner invitation, don’t you?” Angela retorted with flushed angry cheeks.
“You need not elaborate. It doesn’t greatly overtax my imagination to guess, but we shall see.”
Chapter Twelve
It took Angela most of the day to calm down after the confrontation with Laporte. The gall of the pirate to touch her, call her chérie, insult her and then invite her to dinner. He was probably downstairs right now entertaining his bunch of cutthroats with the finest vintage wines plundered from two dozen different ships. How many lives had this great opulent house devoured so he could live in style? The painful vision of the Dark Lady as she had last seen her—bloodstained and littered with dead—made her angry all over again.
Molly, the children, and Angela sat at the small round table where they dined alone each evening. With a knock on the door slaves appeared bearing large covered serving dishes. Arranging them on the table as usual they left on silent feet, their eyes big with apprehension. Ezra entered just then and Angela greeted him as he pulled up a chair.
“I’m starved,” he informed them. “I have combed this island thoroughly at least three times today with the same bad luck.”
“Nothing?” asked Angela lifting a chased silver lid.
Molly screamed and jumped to her feet just as the lid hit the floor clanging on the tiles. On a bed of seaweed a large, rotten, glassy-eyed fish reposed filling the room with its stench. With a muttered oath Angela uncovered the other dishes to find a jellyfish lying on white sand, a mound of jagged coral rocks laced with spider crabs, and a dead seagull.
Across Captive Seas Page 26