by Tina Donahue
“He sounds like the pirates. Oh no.” She covered her mouth. “Forgive me for my words.”
“No need. You’re quite right. He always was a coward.”
“You had sisters?”
Grief tightened his features. “I try not to think of them. It’s too hard.”
“Now I made you sad.”
“Not you. The situation. My father took everything our family had and left us impoverished. England, unlike this isle, isn’t populated solely by kind people who will aid you in hard times, especially if they believe you deserved what happened. If you can’t pay for things, you go without, even if that means shelter and food. Anyone without employment or money either begs, which is a criminal act, or ends up in the workhouse, forced to toil long hours in order to eat. Many succumb to starvation or illness. Those who have unpaid debts languish in prison until they can pay what they owe along with the price required for their stay in those hellholes. Any man who would put his family through that is a bloody beast who deserves to die.”
“How did you survive?”
“By any work I could get, no matter how loathsome. That didn’t save my mother and sisters from their fates.”
She cupped his face. “Your nightmares are about them.”
“They’re always close to me. They’re why I’ve become what I am.”
“A merchant who sails on ships.”
He lowered his face. “Among other things.”
Simone wanted to ask more, but dreaded making him sadder. Today they’d share joy and hope, not a past no one could change.
She kissed his lids and drew him into her. “Sleep. When you wake, I will tend to your wound and your passion.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we can forget about everything except pleasure.”
“In this room we’ll have nothing else. When the others run us away, I promise to find another place where we can be alone. No one will keep us apart.”
“Tristan will have something to say about that.”
“He does not own me. No one does.”
Royce stared at her.
She’d never seen him so intense and dismayed. “What?”
“Nothing.” He rested his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes.
Chapter 6
Trading Simone’s freedom for his mother and sisters’ future wasn’t possible for Royce. Never had been. There had to be a way to spare everyone.
First, though, he had to prove to Bishop he’d arrived and was working on the plan before Bishop contacted a cold, calculating rogue to get the job done.
To locate the isle, Royce had spoken to natives who’d suggested the possible location. They’d do so for others too, given enough incentive. A surprise attack would be imminent, no matter the precautions Tristan took, the outcome worse than what Simone had already lived through.
Royce had to secure paper and pen for his note to Bishop, then get to the damn birds alone.
For days, Peter escorted Royce to the creatures and always remained nearby, sighing loudly from boredom or anger, muttering about wanting to be elsewhere.
Royce finally had enough of this nonsense too. He wasn’t armed and couldn’t fly off the island to escape. “Why not move these cages outside my bedchamber? The creatures would have fresh air they surely need and I could reach them from the windowsill.” With the ever-present armed guard nearby.
Of course, the islanders weren’t always as watchful as they should be. Some fought sleep or had to relieve themselves. During those scant minutes of diverted attention, he could release a bird and pretend the creature had escaped when he’d opened the cage. Wasn’t likely the men would shoot and hit the thing, ruining his plan. “If Tristan agrees, I wouldn’t need to bother you or anyone else to bring me here to take care of them.”
Peter shrugged. “I can ask.”
Days passed without an answer. Tristan had no time to consider the trivial matter, spending his efforts tending animals, surveying ruined crops, or helping the others rebuild their homes.
Simone’s visits to Royce’s bedchamber grew less frequent. His healing wound didn’t require new bandages as often. During the cleanup after the storm, the others had cut or scraped themselves and needed Simone to look after their injuries. When she finished with those tasks, expectant mothers wanted potions to ensure their coming infants’ good health. Children needed care.
Royce suspected Tristan, Diana, and Gavra were behind the full schedule Simone had mentioned to him.
No longer able to wait for Tristan’s answer, Royce woke early and lingered in his chamber until Gavra delivered his morning meal. Once she had enough time to return to the kitchen, he opened his door.
The hall was empty.
Movement sounded from behind Royce.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t only the wind and rain. Last night, he’d closed his shutters against the new storm.
Adamo rattled the barrier now, then shoved it open rather than peer through a slit in the wood as he’d done for hours. “What are you doing?”
Royce strode down the hall, a crutch no longer necessary, his pain gone and gash fully scabbed.
Adamo’s feet slapped the marble floor, his pursuit as relentless as a London banker running down a defaulting creditor. “Arrȇter, sauf si vous voulez que je vous tire.” Stop, unless you want me to shoot you.
Royce held up his hands, walked backward, and spoke French. “I’m unarmed. What trouble can I cause? If you must kill me, you’ll have to shoot me in the back.” He resumed his march through the building, stopping at the dining area.
Tristan, Diana, James, and Peter stared at him as they might an unholy apparition. Rain slashed the closed shutters. Wind rattled them. The roof opening sported glass that kept the room dry but horribly stuffy.
Everyone wore a dour expression. Oil lamps added little warmth to the dreary mood and day.
Tristan, James, and Peter’s pistols lay on the table at their sides, the muzzles glinting in the yellowish light. Only Diana had arrived unarmed.
Adamo clamped Royce’s shoulder.
He put out his hands to Tristan in surrender. “I need a word. Please. I have been trying for days to speak with you. This morning seemed the perfect time as you can hardly build or tend anything in this rain.”
Tristan glanced past him to Adamo. “Tu peux rejoindre les autres dans la cuisine.” You can join the others in the kitchen.
Conversation and laughter from a sizeable crowd flowed into this room.
Tristan smiled. “Profitez de ce que les femmes ont fait.” Enjoy what the women made.
Adamo remained. The cowhide covering his head and shoulders dripped water, puddling at his bare feet. “Should I come back here when I finish?”
“I’ll call when you’re needed. You did a fine job in guarding our visitor. Merci.”
Adamo nodded and left.
Tristan told Diana what they’d said, then faced Royce. “Go on, sit.” He gestured him to a chair. “A word of warning. Do not roam about on your own. If Adamo doesn’t shoot you, one of us may.”
“I’m unarmed. What threat do I pose?”
“You tell me.”
If only Royce could. That would make the situation easier and would result in his immediate death, leaving his family no protection or hope. “I deal in exotic merchandise, not danger or murder. I would leave here in a moment if I could.”
Gavra carried the silver tea service into the room, her eyes on James. “Qu’a dit l’Anglais?” What did the Englishman say?
Royce told her before James could.
Simone leaned against the kitchen doorway, humiliation and sorrow in her eyes.
Of all the things for her to overhear, Royce wouldn’t have chosen his last words. However, he had to keep up his performance or risk worse than her bruised feelings. He spoke French. “Am I your prisoner here, Captain? Is this to be my fate for the rest of my days?”
Gavra filled James an
d Tristan’s teacups.
“Merci.” Tristan pulled the saucer close. “Please bring one for our visitor.” He regarded Royce and spoke English. “Have you eaten?”
“Gavra brought ample food as she always does. I came here instead, wanting to speak.”
Tristan looked over. “S’il vous plaît lui apporter une assiette et des ustensiles pour qu’il puisse nous rejoindre.” Please bring him a plate and utensils so he can join us. Tristan leaned back and switched to English. “As a guest, not a prisoner. Have you seen Newgate or heard of it? Trust me the accommodations here are far better.”
“I didn’t mean to be impolite. However, I’m going mad spending each day in my room, having to wait for Peter to escort me to Edward’s pets so I can tend to them.”
Peter snorted. “If you think I like it any better than you, then you’d be wrong.”
Diana gave her brother a look as cool as her pale blue gown. “We know how taxing you find your obligations here. However, you will continue with them.”
He hunched over his food, muttering beneath his breath.
“Enough, Peter.” Tristan waited until Gavra delivered the plate, fork, and spoon before he spoke to Royce in English. “You best follow our rules as you’re going to be with us awhile. Mozambique is quite a distance from here. We can’t risk taking you there.”
“I understand that. Small craft would never make the journey. Even a longboat would probably have difficulty reaching the Mozambique shore.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Royce didn’t have to feign surprise. “You have a larger vessel?” Surely, the Lady Lark.
“Whether we do or not, James, Peter, and I have prices on our heads. We can’t risk escorting you to civilization. James has already asked the islanders if they’d care to see to the task.”
“They said no.” James flicked something from his freckled chest. “They want nothing to do with the English, except for us, of course. Given their experience with the last pirate who ruled, one can hardly blame them.”
Tristan put down his cup. “That means you’re here until the islanders we trade with arrive. Perhaps they can help. That said, we won’t be able to ask them for some months. Wisely, they don’t travel during cyclone season. Your bedchamber may seem like a prison to you, but it’s far better than what most in this world have.”
“I’m not complaining about that. Admittedly, you’ve been gracious. But I want to make myself useful. James said everyone here works.”
“They do.” Diana shot Peter a look. “Whether they want to or not.”
“Then make use of me.” Royce pled with Tristan. “Allow me to care for Edward’s pets without pulling Peter from his tasks. I can put the cages outside my room. When the hens and birds need tending, I can climb over the windowsill and do what I must. If I travel farther than that, surely an islander can shoot me.”
Peter snickered.
Tristan cut his fish. “That’s seeing to your needs, not those on the isle.”
“I could also assist Simone in her daily tasks.”
Diana’s fork clattered against her plate. “Absolutely not. You will not spend your days with Simone.”
She pattered into the room. “Que dites-vous à propos de moi?” What do you say about me?
Peter told her.
She frowned. “No one here owns me. I can do as I please.”
Peter translated for Diana.
Tristan put out his hands. “Of course, Simone. But this is your home, not Royce’s. Healing is your task, not his.”
“If I may say something.” Royce waited for Tristan’s attention and switched to English. “I could read her the passages from your medical books, recording those she needs on another sheet for future use.” That would give him access to paper and pen.
Tristan arched one eyebrow. “You can read Arabic?”
“French, English, Latin, and Greek. However, if I have the Arabic alphabet at hand, with its translation into the languages I do know, I can piece things together and learn to read it. Until then, I can use your other books to tell her what she needs to know, sparing you, Peter, or Diana the task so you can return to your regular work. I could also teach Simone to read.”
She touched his arm and asked what they’d said about her.
Royce told her.
Simone’s face lit up. “You would do that for me?”
“If you want to learn, of course and gladly. Though it’s up to you.” Royce spoke English to the others. “Everyone here should learn to read and write so they have access to the knowledge in the library. It’s a sorry waste if they don’t.”
Tristan tapped his chin. “Diana’s already had an idea to teach the islanders.”
Peter chuckled.
Tristan glared. “What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing.” He sobered. “It’s just that she’d have to learn the languages Royce knows, and fluently too, before she could teach anyone else anything. The infants could have their own children by then.”
Royce sensed a fight brewing that might steer everyone from the course he’d set them on. “I don’t want to intrude if the matter’s been settled.”
Diana’s cheeks flamed. “It hasn’t. I have no objection to you teaching them what they need to know. I want them to learn and thrive.”
“As do I.” Royce chanced a smile. “You’re more than welcome in my classroom too. I’m a fair teacher and will have you speaking and writing the languages as promptly as I can.”
“No thank you. My husband sees to my lessons.”
“As you wish. What about the fields and pigs?”
Tristan looked at him blankly. “What about them?”
“James said I’d be working there when my leg mended. It has. Will I be outside during daylight and in the library after dark?”
Tristan worked his mouth, fighting a smile. “I think we can let you forgo the physical labor. You seem more suited for the library.”
“I can pull my weight in any endeavor and shall.”
Simone touched his shoulder. “What did you and Tristan say?”
He told her.
“Please stay in the library. I need your help with my healing.”
“That settles it.” Tristan tossed his napkin on the table. “You two can begin today.” He told Diana what he’d said, then spoke to Royce in English. “Once the rain stops, Peter will put your cages outside your window. They’ll have to go back to the storage room when the storms start up again.”
“Agreed.” Royce stood.
“Wait.” Diana laid her hand on Tristan’s. “Peter and I use the library to study. It’s hard enough getting through the lessons without others in there reading aloud or speaking and causing endless distractions.”
Simone glanced at everyone. “Ce qui se passe?” What goes on?
Royce told her.
She spoke to Tristan. “Royce and I could use the birthing room. No one needs it today, tomorrow, or the next. When they do, we can find another place. Either my bedchamber or his.”
A crash sounded.
Gavra. She picked up the tray she’d either dropped or thrown down.
Diana looked confused. “What just happened?”
Tristan explained, then spoke to Simone. “Not the bedchambers. Use the birthing room for now. You can bring the books you need in there. I’ll translate the Arabic alphabet into English for Royce.”
He nodded. “What about Adamo and Philippe?”
“What have they to do with this?”
“While they’re guarding me in the birthing room, they should have a chair, unless it’s acceptable for them to sit on the bed. It’s not fair to ask them to stand the entire time. Or worse, wait outside in the rain. The damp heat would be terrible for them.”
Tristan didn’t react.
Royce stared him down.
“Simone.” Tristan looked at her. “As-tu confiance en Royce?” Do you trust Royce?
“Oui. He only wants to teach me what I should know so I can help everyone here. How is that dangerous? How does that cause harm?”
“Very well. No more guards…if my lovely wife feels the same.” Tristan stroked her fingers and explained what they’d discussed. “Do you agree? I trust your opinion on this.”
Diana slumped. “We’re not in England any longer. I keep forgetting that.”
Peter kept his head down. Given where he sat, he managed to hide his smirk from Tristan and her.
Diana glanced up. “Yes, I agree with my husband. Ah, bien apprendre, Simone.” Learn well, Simone. “Lecture et…l’écriture va ouvir un monde que…vous ignoriez…l’existence.” Reading and writing will open up a world you never knew existed.
She clapped her hands. “Merci. We should begin now.”
“Oui. Off with you.” Tristan gestured them away. “Wait. Royce, you can start taking your meals in here with us. Saves Gavra the trouble of serving you.”
“I can eat in the kitchen like Simone and the others.”
“They’re only here until we rebuild their homes.”
“Then I’ll dine with them until they leave for their own places. If you don’t mind.”
“Have it your way. Though we will want you to take the evening meal with us so you can provide an update on your day and progress.”
“Of course.”
Simone laced her fingers through his. “Are we leaving now?”
“Oui.”
She tugged him toward the kitchen. “We can see to Edward’s pets first, then prepare the birthing room with what we need.”
* * * *
Animated conversation streamed from the kitchen. Silence followed, then muted but heated words. If Tristan had to guess, he’d say Simone had made an announcement about her and Royce’s new plans and Gavra didn’t take the news well.
A pot clanged.
Diana looked over and leaned into Tristan, her mouth on his ear. “Do you trust him?”
He couldn’t say no, but wasn’t certain he should say yes. Royce was a paradox. Slick as could be in presenting his arguments that were hard to refute, but also strangely vulnerable around Simone. With her, he seemed genuine, having no hidden agenda, truly wanting to help.
