Jennifer Horseman

by GnomeWonderland

  "Aye, there is the horror. In the best of circumstances the British can't win unless they manage to take the French fleet by surprise, when they least expect it. Look over there," he pointed to the far horizon, where maybe ten or more tall ships rocked at moor. "The Spanish have joined their numbers. The French already have nearly twice the number of ships and arms and men, and now with the Spanish, Lord," he shook his head, " 'twill be a bloodbath."

  "Is there nothing that can be done?" She grabbed his arm imploringly, "Is there no hope?"

  "Juliet, it is even worse than that. There is only one reason why they would be in Tangiers right now: they know where the British fleet is; they are plannin' a surprise attack of their own."

  There must be something Garrett could do!

  The thought kept repeating itself throughout the day as she sat alone in quiet contemplation of the terrible tragedy waiting ahead. The only interruption of her solitude came as somebody, probably Pots, thought to make use of the unlimited fresh water now and ordered a bath brought. As thoughtful as the present was, nothing on earth could lift her spirits from the tragedy waiting for the world.

  There would be no end to the bloodbath if Napoleon were to rule. Thousands would die, Gayle had said, men with wives and children, fathers and mothers. All the men she knew: Garrett, Gayle, Leif, Kyle, Jordan, Heart, Peters, all of them would fight French rule to the death. Even Tomas! Tomas, who was as peace-loving as any one she had ever known. . .

  "Some men are made for war and fighting," Tomas once told her. "Not I, though, not I! Even in swaddling clothes, my mother said I had no stomach for it, surrendering at once to my brothers, crying and fussing all the time. Ah, but luckily for us, our class never actually has to fight in the battlefields. Far better others get killed . . ."

  She felt a momentary twinge of embarrassment as she recalled those words and she blushed, her gaze darting across the room ridiculously as if someone was there to read her thoughts. Tonali looked up from the bed where he slept to meet her eyes. Cats do not sneer, she told herself, and anyway, 'twas a good thing Tomas had no mind for killing. The thought of losing him to a war felt unbearable, even more so as she imagined the agony of waiting to hear if she had lost him on some faraway field of battle, a place of horror and unbearable agonies, where boys lay dying unattended, cold, and lost, unable to even remember why they had had to fight in the first place. War was a terrible, terrible thing, and oh, God—

  If only there was something to be done!

  She would give her life to help Garrett, her life . . .

  Preposterous, she realized, as she fell inelegantly into a chair. Simply preposterous to imagine she could ever help Garrett, ever do more than wait; wait until Garrett and Leif returned from the palace tonight, wait for Garrett to return her, wait for Tomas to marry her, wait for the world to be a better place. Preposterous. She censured the imagination that produced the outrageous idea.

  "Never censure your imagination, darling," her mother once said. "Imagination is the place of discovery and excitement, a world of infinite possibilities."

  "All possibilities exist in each and every moment, and each and every person chooses . . ." Garrett said Chein Lee had told him, and she remembered thinking at the time such statements meant nothing, were really very silly, if one only put half a thought to it. Yet suddenly she saw it differently. What if she could somehow create a possibility of helping? Just a possibility . . .

  Not if she never got to leave the ship. If only again. If only she could convince Garrett to take her with him to the palace tonight. "Absolutely not ..." he had said.. How could she change his mind?

  Tonali rose and stretched languidly before coming to her side, rubbing his silky fur against her. A small sign of encouragement. Her hands stroked his coat as she frantically searched for the means of convincing Garrett to take her with him. What would make him?

  The obvious answer sprang to mind, and she clapped her hands excitedly. That would work, she knew it would work! Women had certain advantages over men, and just because she had never stooped low enough to use them, that didn't mean she didn't know how, did it? If anyone fell for that one, it would be Garrett. She needed only a possibility ...

  Late afternoon Garrett entered with Leif to dress. Like a great burst of wind, his temper exploded as he stormed into the dressing room. "God's curse, Leif," he tore off his clothes, shouting back out, "I just can't bear it, that's all. A nightmare come true, not only am I stuck in this God-forsaken port, forced to watch the French prepare for the slaughter, but I have to aid their cause by giving them two thousand British muskets in my hold."

  "Garrett, Garrett listen to me: you would be hung if anyoneeverfound youhadkept those armsfrom them-"

  "I cannot," Garrett slammed his fist into the wall and yelled, "I cannot! I have only to think of one boy those guns will kill and I say nay—I will not arm the tyrant. I'll burn my ship first."

  "Keep sense, man!" Leif said in a frighteningly soft tone to temper Garrett's outburst, understandable as it was. "For God's sake, Garrett, what excuse will you give for coming here? Even if they don't find the arms aboard—a large if—our very presence will arouse their suspicions. We need those guns as an alibi and," he waved his hand in dismissal, "we were to give over the guns anyway."

  "A small sacrifice for saving the world. A moot point now. Leif, Leif," he emerged from the dressing room dressed in formal clothes, rolling up the sleeves of a white silk shirt.

  Juliet's eyes widened to accommodate the handsome sight.

  "Don't you see? Now that it's lost, I can not bear compounding the defeat, even this much. Wait," he held up his hand as Leif started to protest, "let's see how we are received before I make a final decision."

  "Very well then, but-"

  "Don't worry. I will not jeopardize our men—"

  "Or your position. If we do lose the navy, Garrett, England will need you more than ever."

  "Aye, aye," he said distractedly as he moved to the table and poured a goblet of water for himself. His gaze finally came to rest on her. Anxiety marked her features as she twisted a handkerchief in her hands. The sight of her eased some of his tension, and in a somewhat softer tone he said, "Juliet, we'll be leaving—" He abruptly saw something was wrong. "Love, is something wrong?"

  She shook her head, turning away as if to hide something. Which of course only captured his full attention. He came to her, kneeling down where she sat on the sofa. He took her clasped hands in his, only then soliciting her gaze. "Love, what is it? You look . . . why, you look frightened."

  She took a deep breath, her thin brows drawn in distress. "I wouldn't dare trouble you now. I know how terrible the world has become. You have so much on your mind—" She turned away, shivering ever so slightly.

  "My God, you're trembling. Has something happened?"

  She shook her head.

  "What is it? Come, love, no more silence. You know that upsets me more."

  "Well, I ... I, oh, Garrett," she whispered with convincing drama, "I ... I don't really know what's wrong with me ... except, except—"

  "Yes?"

  "I am frightened. I don't know why. Perhaps all the terrible news, but I just feel so ... so scared."

  He stared at those blue eyes. Few things, he discovered in the space of the moment, could have affected him more. His mind instantly conjured the vision of her sitting on the windowsill, frightened and helpless and dreaming of a place where she would be safe. He looked over at Leif, who pretended to be studying the maps. He found his hand toying with a strand of her hair. Softly he said, "Love, you are safe. I have over twenty men guarding the ship tonight—"

  "I know . . . 'tis just that I ... I want to be with you."

  He studied the fear so plain for a long moment, before begging for help, "Leif . . ."

  "Garrett, you know me too well and together we have experienced too many strange things to question why I give credence to feelings, especially Juliet's. If something were to happen, no dou
bt she would be safer with us."

  "Aye, she will be safe. I will always keep her safe. Which is not the point," he said to her. "Do you know why I don't want to bring you tonight?"

  She didn't and she shook her head.

  "It's not a capricious decision, love. It's for safety— not your safety, for as Leif says I don't imagine anything could harm you with Leif and me at your side—the jeopardy is to my men. We will be dining with the French Admiralty and officers, men who are all convinced I am something I am not. A tricky game, love, for the slightest, most inadvertent banality could betray us. Do you see why it would be easier to keep you here?"

  She nodded but bit her lip, distressed still.

  "And then there is King Tallihasi himself, neither a kind man nor a benevolent leader. The worst kind of tyrant, he is, and while I have earned his favor, Leif and I have witnessed atrocious demonstrations of his ruthless power. Things I would not want you to see."

  Leif sighed, nodding as he remembered all too well the incident Garrett referred to. Once last year, the king found disfavor with a gift brought by a visiting dignitary, and with an outraged cry a guard decapitated the poor man in view of the entire court. The king was in a constant state of agony and pain and there was no telling what he might do, but—"Garrett, if something were to happen, we could protect her from it, take her away or shield her."

  "Aye, yet—" He stopped, caught and held by the plea in the luminous eyes. "Ah, love—"

  Juliet knew to press her advantage. She placed her hand on his arm, trembled, and said please so loudly in her mind that it echoed in her eyes.

  "Dear God," Garrett said, "why didn't someone ever warn me about a woman's eyes? I can't say no—"

  Garrett had not even gotten the words out when, overwhelmed by her triumph, Juliet jumped up, clapped her hands together, and turned in excited circles before throwing herself into his arms. For a brief moment he was shocked at the astonishing display of her theatrics, shocked that she—this picture of startling innocence and temptation—could have possible contrived that fear for the sole purpose of manipulation, shocked, that is, until his arms came around her slender frame to hold her close. The innocent contact was devastating, just devastating. His body no longer cared about war and tragedy, lying or manipulation, especially disregarding the meaningful distinctions between women and girls. The force of his desire could not be controlled, it surged through him in a potent rush of liquid fire. A fire he'd quench this night, a night he'd make with magic ....

  Also seeing what she had just done, Leif politely turned his head to hide his laughter, as surprised as Gar-rett.

  Juliet abruptly realized the magnitude of her mistake. Oh God, how could she? What a stupid, stupid fool she was! She pulled back in certain horror, only to find Garrett's arms unwilling to let her go.

  "Why you little tease."

  His eyes shone with amusement, amusement that confused her. Perhaps all was not lost after all. "I'm just so happy, you see. I mean, I was very frightened—"

  "Oh no, love. You almost had me believing your astounding performance. If only you could manage to control your emotions better! What a consummate actress you are! Why love, I had no idea."

  She deflated like a balloon, filled as much with self-reproach as with disappointment. Garrett managed to release her. If that were possible, and it was, he knew he could do anything. He leaned on the table with his arms folded across his chest and he chuckled, "Have you ever seen anything like that, Leif?"

  "I can't tell you how many times." Leif looked heavenward with an audible groan, a smile. "I spent most of my life married, as you well know."

  "Would you mind fetching that package I bought today? And give me a few moments to, ah, straighten the young lady out."

  A broad grin spread over Leif s remarkable features as he left.

  Silence came over the room. Juliet felt quite the fool, embarrassed and humiliated. More than anything she felt a profound disappointment, the force of which she could hardly describe. Twas the punishment for pride, for imagim'ng she could do anything more with her life than wait. . . .

  The first thing that alerted her was Tonali. The cat rose and hissed, circling Garrett's legs in agitation. With his eyes closed, Garrett's hand held both sides of his head, a look of intense concentration changed his features. She first thought it was his ailment or a headache, but no, for it vanished as he looked up at her.

  "Come here, love."

  She felt that strange energy of his, the same force that surrounded him after his meditations. Why she wanted to refuse him, she could not say, but there was something threatening and frightening about him, making it impossible to refuse. As if under a spell, or drawn by that indefinable force, she found herself stepping over to him.

  She stopped directly in front of him. He made no move to touch her. He held her with his gaze alone. "I have one condition before letting you go."

  "Oh, what? I'll do anything! Anything!"

  "Indeed. Lucky for you," he smiled, "I want only your absolute safety. I know only one way to get this. For tonight, only tonight, I must have your will."

  "Will?" she repeated in a question. What a strange thing to ask. "Oh, but I always follow your orders—"

  "This is more, love. Raise your left hand," Garrett's gaze stayed intense and unwavering. She slowly raised her left hand, cautious and hesitating, yet simultaneously compelled. He met the hand with his right, the splayed tips of his fingers touched hers. "Do you feel that?"

  The blue eyes widened with confusion. The energy of his felt like a current through his fingertips, growing, surrounding her with a strange, tingling warmth.

  "Repeat these words now: 'You have my will, for this night and this night only, I give you my will.'"

  She hesitated still. Was this innocent? As innocent as a child's pact whispered in a secret place in the garden? Or more? If she refused would he refuse to let her go with him?

  "Yes and yes and yes. It's the only way, love."

  As if he knew her thoughts!

  The warmth intensified abruptly and became compelling, until, like jumping off a cliff into oblivion, she repeated the words. Nothing happened, which surprised her, for she was expecting a miracle. Yet he smiled at her with such tenderness and affection that she found herself smiling back, as if they shared a delicious secret.

  He turned away, stepping into the dressing room, where he searched through a jeweled box until he found the ring. Returning to her, he took her right hand and slipped it on her ring finger.

  "With this ring I do wed."

  For an indeterminate amount of time, an eternity or two, she lost herself in his gaze, held and mesmerized by the poetry there. Somehow and somewhere, she found the strength to look down at the ring. A large diamond sat in an antique platinum filigree setting. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. She started to shake her head but he stopped her.

  "You can believe I will not present you as a mistress."

  She looked back at the ring. Like Tonali's eyes, the diamond caught the light and the reflection momentarily blinded her. A warmth curled around her finger, as if it were being fitted. Ridiculous of course. She tried to slip it back off.

  "Oh it won't come off!"

  "You don't want to take it off, love."

  A curious softness echoed in his tone. Of course he was right, she realized. She would easier die than have people think she was his mistress. . . .

  The next surprise arrived on LeiPs arm. Tangiers was not Paris, but with the large French presence they had more than one shop offering the latest fashions. The dozen dresses he ordered for Juliet wouldn't be ready for two weeks, but as his luck was more than enough to make anything happen, when he had stepped back inside to select materials, he happened to see this gown. A gown made for Juliet, the exact blue-green color of her eyes set against the Mediterranean sea this morning. The shop owner insisted the gown had been made for the mistress of a French lieutenant, but a chuckle thrown against a hundr
ed francs said differently, convincing the woman to make the slightest alterations in the slippers and the length.

  Garrett had the pleasure of watching Juliet attempt to comprehend it. Wide-eyed, she tried to swallow. She shook her head as her hand reached out to touch the silk, then the matching reticule and slippers in Leif s free hand. ". . . For me?"

  "Somehow I don't think it will fit anyone else on board."

  She stared with plain apprehension and in a whisper told him, "I never . . . never had anything so pretty. . . ."

  "Hurry up, love, we are already late."

  Hurry, Garrett's command echoed curiously through her mind. Like a sleepwalker, she took the silk gown and disappeared into the dressing room, wondering how he had known, where he had gotten it, would it fit?

  The small jar of potion fell from her pocket as she undressed. She quickly picked it up, searching for a hiding place. Oh, the reticule . . . She slipped the potion inside the beaded, white-silk purse and pulled the strings, turning then to dressing.

  As they waited, Garrett and Leif furiously debated the issue of the arms. Garrett simply could not let the situation rest, and listening, Juliet came to see how the issue reflected the larger issue of being trapped in port. Yet the thought of one of those guns being raised to shoot Tomas brought her the same desperate feeling, released in a small gasp. She slowly pulled up the gown, her mind far from her task. "Garrett, why can't you just keep the arms a secret from them?"

  "Unless I have something to sell to the French ambassador here, there would be no way of explaining our timely presence. Suspicions, love, this game is about confirming suspicions."

  "Couldn't you just say you wanted to visit the king? Gayle said you've known him for years—"

  "Ah, the old tried-but-true alibi. I don't think so."

  Suspicions and guesses, all this guessing and so much depending on making the right guess, or discovering guarded secrets. Still, if the point was the arms . . . she turned her attention back to her hair: "Garrett, do you have another hair pin?"