by Chloe Harris
What if the light bobbing on the water had been for her? What if his stupidity and rage had driven them both away from him and to each other?
Reinier was almost crippled by his roaring emotions when he finally found Justine picking lavender in the kitchen garden. “Where the devil is your mistress?”
A small, flat basket hanging on her arm, Justine continued at her task, not even bothering to greet him after his stern, commanding question. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“And I am sure you do.”
The maid flinched at his obvious temper but stood her ground as she turned to face him, chin high and her free hand on her ample hip. “Why would I tell you?”
Reinier couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He took a step closer. “I beg your pardon, you overstep.”
“I overstep? I overstep? Ha!” Reinier couldn’t hide a slight recoil at the volume of her voice. “You overstepped the moment you used that girl to build that silly ship of yours and sail off without even a by-your-leave!”
This conversation was preposterous and the very last thing he needed this horrible morning. The last thread of Reinier’s sanity was wearing perilously thin. “Oh, please. I’m sure she barely even noticed I had gone.”
Casting the basket off her arm, Justine stepped closer, dangerously waving her cutting shears as she spoke. “Barely noticed? You can’t be serious! Don’t you have any idea what you did to that poor girl? She sat staring out at that damned harbor for months and months crying herself to sleep at night for a man that will never deserve the heart he stole.” She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, her hand trembling with the wrathful daggers her words and her eyes spat at him. “Why would I tell you where she is? Huh? So you can rip her poor heart out again and sail away with that blackguard you call a partner to go and do God knows what with every woman in every port between here and the Carolinas?”
Reinier took a step back more out of shear confusion from her words than any threat from the sharp implement she was holding in front of him. “How dare you! Sully my name if you must, but leave Connor out.”
Justine glanced at the blades in her hand as if she realized just now what she’d done, tossed them onto the basket of lavender, and gave a low grunt. “How dare I?” She rolled her eyes and, arms akimbo, stomped her foot. “How dare you? Always choosing that reprobate Irishman over your own wife. That poor child never wanted anything but your love, and what do you do? Toss her away as if she were nothing but a fleeting fancy, and give your time and affection to that…that…scoundrel. You, sir, are the worst kind of villain.” Thrusting her chin up, she looked down her nose at him.
Reinier could literally feel the last thread of his temper fraying and then snapping in his head. “Woman! Have the fumes from the distillery soaked your brain? I’m the one whose heart was ripped out. I’m the one that was a prize she could brag to friends about, something to laud over them and check off her list of ingredients for the perfect marriage.”
Stepping forward, Reinier loomed over the impertinent maid, beating his chest with his own fist. “She never loved me. It was all about bragging rights to her. I am the one that was lucky to get out with my pride and my soul still intact before she had me so blinded I wouldn’t have been able to recognize myself any longer! Thank goodness I did have one true friend to rely on.”
Breath heavy, Reinier stood his ground, his eyes daring the maid to rebuke him. She looked as if she was about to do just that, refusing to back away, one hand on her hip and the other with an accusing finger pointed at him. Her mouth stood slightly ajar. Clearly, she was ready to rail at him once more.
But then she stopped and took a deep breath. Her expression changed and she tilted her head in thought. Reinier wasn’t sure why, but her sudden change in demeanor worried him even more than her righteous fury.
Letting the air out of her lungs slowly, Justine put her hand down, bent her head, and shook it. When she straightened, there was a look of pity in her eyes.
“Listen to me.” Her pleading tone was as evident as the hands she held up, palms out, as if calling for peace. “I know Emiline better than anyone left on this earth, and believe me when I tell you she loved you—loves you still.”
Reinier only shook his head in doubt and confusion.
“Although it’s hard to believe, girls—and, yes, even ones as beautiful as our Emiline—sometimes greatly doubt themselves when they shouldn’t. I’m sure whatever it is you think she might have said to those silly tarts that once called themselves her friends was said out of uncertainty and in the heat of the moment to silence their stupid gossip. That wasn’t how she truly felt.”
Reinier still didn’t speak but gave a slight nod, trying to, wanting to believe her.
Justine took another deep, slightly wheezing breath, and her eyes bore into him. “No matter her mother’s nobility, no matter her father’s wealth, no matter how much they worked to make her feel loved and included in society, Emiline never completely forgot she wasn’t like them, and that some would always think less of her because of the color of her skin.”
My God, he thought, covering his eyes more for the light of understanding than the piercing rays of the sun. He’d never seen her that way, never once thought any less of her in any way because of her father’s heritage.
Money forgave many things in the Caribbean that couldn’t be overlooked in Europe. But he’d never cared about that. He’d always seen her unique parentage as what made her more beautiful and something better, more rare and precious than all the others.
It was hard for him to fathom that she wouldn’t see herself that way too. But he did know what it was like to be made to feel inferior. His mother had often told him how low he was compared to his older brother, her one greatest accomplishment. His father barely noticed him at all, much less noticed how his mother treated him. He’d escaped his childhood only to step into a world aboard a trading ship that wasn’t much better.
What had he done? He’d made a horrible mistake. He’d projected his own stupid insecurities about himself onto Emiline and had completely misunderstood the situation—her feelings and his own.
Reinier ran his hands through his hair. Eventually, he looked back to Justine with a sad sigh. The look on his face must have conveyed how completely defeated he felt. “I’ve been a complete fool. Please tell me where she is.”
Justine stepped forward and placed a hand on his sleeve. “I saw her walking toward the harbor early this morning. There is a cove off the beach on the other side, just past the palm grove. In the cove there is a short swim through a cave that comes out into a pool with a waterfall. That’s where she always goes when she needs to be alone. My bet is that she’ll be there.”
Reinier placed his other hand over Justine’s in thanks and took off, sprinting toward the harbor.
17
The cool spring water, flowing over the flat rock cliff into the shallow end of a small pool, splashed over Emiline’s whole body before it found its way through the caves to the sea. She’d always loved that it was so secluded here she could cast off all her clothing, most of which was left safely tucked in an oiled sack inside a hollow palm on the other side of the cave. Emiline had shed her shift as soon as she’d emerged into the pool.
The water felt wonderful as she ran her hands over her face and hair. The crystalline pearls tickled her skin. The loud noise of the crashing water drowned out the outside world. Emiline sighed with bliss. This was her sanctuary. Besides being entranced in one of her favorite poems, there was no place on earth that made her feel better than here.
Until today.
Today, she just wanted to wash it all away. Everything. Her love, her hate, her hurt, her guilt, her confusion.
At first she’d been glad she’d run into Connor on her way here, but in the end it had only added to the disorder in her mind. And now even the solitude and beauty of her private pond couldn’t help her.
She loved Reinier even though she hated wha
t he’d done last night. She understood now that she had never stopped loving him, but that didn’t really change anything. The fact that she still loved him didn’t stop the hurt he’d caused or the pain she felt when she thought of how alone she’d been for so long—or how she’d focused all the blame and all the jealousy at Connor. Even if she could one day believe that Reinier might truly care for her, how could she ever be sure that he wouldn’t again choose Connor one day?
To make an oh-so-horrible situation even worse, there was guilt as well. Regret that she’d pushed him so far last night. Remorse that she’d been weak enough to let him goad her to it. But the overwhelming amount of her contrition came from the fact that even through her anger and shock, there was a small part of her that had been aroused at the same time.
And not one bit of all that changed the fact the she wanted a divorce, which Reinier was graciously willing to let her have once the price was paid.
Emiline swatted impotently at the steams of water, wanting to hit something, anything. She’d been in charge of the estate, the one in control and responsible for so long that it was crippling to feel so confused and not knowing which way to turn. Salty tears of frustration mixed with spring water on her cheeks. She couldn’t feel them on her skin, but she knew they were there. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Emiline hugged herself.
She thought she’d heard her name. It was only a faint moan over the roar of the waterfall. There. She heard it and began to rapidly blink the water from her eyes, straining her ears to hear.
Emiline caught her breath when she saw Reinier standing on a rock at the other end of the pool trying to get her attention. He cupped his hands around his mouth shouting her name once more, but she still only heard it as little more than a whisper.
For a long moment she didn’t move, only stared at him. His feet were bare, his soaking-wet buckskin breeches stuck to his thighs, and his white shirt had become transparent and clung to his chest and shoulders. His golden mane was slicked down to his scalp.
Snapping to her senses, Emiline fumed. For crying out loud, could the man not give her a moment’s peace? She jumped back through the fall of water to disappear into the small alcove behind the spray, hoping he’d understand that she didn’t want to talk to him.
Good Lord, how long had he been standing there calling to her, watching her? And how on earth had he been able to find her?
She paced, in as much as she could pace in the small, shallow, misty cavern behind the waterfall. The plan was to wait here long enough so he’d go away. But, of course, she had no such luck. She saw a shadow move and a tall shape looming on the other side of the wall of water.
Stepping through, Reinier looked like a river god from ancient mythology. Emiline shivered. With a determined expression, he shook the water from his hair, then slicked it back.
How dare he invade her private place? Emiline turned her back to her intrusive husband, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go away!” she shouted over the din of the crashing water.
“Will you not talk to me?”
“No, you know, I just knew there was going to be trouble the minute I saw Connor at Monsieur Améliore’s office. I knew he’d run and tell, and you’d come here to confuse and hurt me again.” And make me fall in love with you anew, she added to herself.
“Pardon? Emiline, I can’t hear you over the roar.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder and she jerked away. “I prefer to be alone. This is my place and I said leave!”
She sensed him taking a step closer to her, but he had enough common sense not to try to touch her again.
“Emiline.”
It dawned on her that twice now he’d called her Emiline and not Lily. Was his devilish game over now? Good. She was done with playing games. Maybe he was here to say he’d signed the papers and he was leaving?
“What do you want?” They still needed to shout to be heard, but he was even closer now.
“Turn around and talk to me.” A hand touched her back. This time she couldn’t make herself move away.
“I’m sorry.”
A little confused, Emiline looked over her shoulder but kept her pride. “Too little, too late.”
His eyes rounded and it seemed some color left his face, but he just stared blandly at her, hesitating as if he were debating what to do. She turned away again, her chin thrust up in triumph.
“Emiline…please.” His voice boomed over everything else. She felt the dampness of his shirt pressed to her back now as both his arms wrapped around her waist and his lips were close to her ear. “Just come and sit with me in the sun so I don’t have to keep shouting. Listen to what I have to say.”
Emiline bent her head, still thinking. As always, he was making everything harder for her. She didn’t yet know her own feelings, so how was she to respond to his? Everything was still so painfully raw on the surface.
Hoping he’d go as soon as he’d said his piece, she nodded and let him guide her through the rushing curtain and around the mossy bank to a large flat rock shaded by palms. Her shift, now dry, hung from a branch nearby, and she quickly reached for it and slipped it on, donning it more for emotional armor than for modesty. They were way past modesty between them.
Emiline sat beside him on the warm stone with her knees bent and her feet flat on the rock, looking at him as he played with a piece of palm frond.
“Well?” She was eager to get their conversation over with.
“When we married I might not have been thinking as clearly as I should have been.” He was still staring at the palm frond in his hand, playing with it as if testing its weight.
“That much has become quite obvious to everyone by now, Reinier.” Emiline pursed her lips and stared him down.
Jerking his shoulders, he twirled his wrist. “Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to put it. I’m not quite sure where to start.”
Really? That was a first. Biting the inside of her cheek, Emiline tried to swallow her sarcasm. She failed. “The charming Dutchman at a loss for words? That’s highly unusual.”
“You know not everyone has led the sheltered life you have, darling.”
“Do tell.”
Reinier tossed the palm branch into the pool with more vigor than was remotely necessary. It was apparent he was getting frustrated at both his own inelegance and her impatience. Since he seemed to be here to get everything out in the open, she decided to ask him something she always wanted to know. Something that might be easier for him because it didn’t have anything to do with the issue at hand. “Tell me about your scar. I know it happened when you were second-in-command of a merchant ship, but you never told me anything beyond that.”
“It’s not a pretty story.”
Good Lord, this wasn’t going anywhere. “I wouldn’t suspect so. It’s not a pretty scar, either.” To be honest, that was a blatant lie. That scar was what elevated his outward flawlessness to perfection. What a pity it wasn’t his scar that was so unsightly, but rather his character. “I still want to know.”
Biting his lower lip, Reinier gave her a long, contemplating stare. Finally, he seemed to back down. “If you insist.”
He turned and blinked up through the lush canopy of palm trees into the sun. Emiline frowned. Was he afraid he could hurt her delicate senses? For heaven’s sake, she was the daughter of a pirate!
“It was very clear from the beginning that the private commission my parents secured for me wasn’t going to be an easy one. Not that I ever had any illusions that it would be, but Captain Asmussen was an autocratic man. His ship did a good business and he made good money, but his crew paid a high price. Disciplined perfection doesn’t even begin to describe what he expected from his crew, and he rarely received it, at least in his eyes. When I assumed my place as chief mate, I took my duties seriously. To me, that included looking out for the crew as well. So, over time, the captain and I came to an understanding: I’d do my work and most of his, then let him take all the credit. In exchange, I
’d take the brunt of his anger for the whole crew.”
Emiline had never really understood what Reinier’s life had been like before they married. Connor had hinted at something like that earlier…. Reinier had such natural charm. He could make people believe that life for him was always dazzling parties and fabulous adventures—but now she understood that it wasn’t. “So the scar came from him, your captain?”
At first Emiline thought he hadn’t heard her, but with a slow nod, Reinier conceded. “Yes, one night we had almost made it into Grenada before a bad storm hit. Almost, but not quite. During the wind and rain, lashing waves crashed on deck and rattled the Galatea as if trying to swallow the ship whole. During all the confusion that ensued, the cargo wasn’t anchored down properly. We lost a good bit due to the damage. It was blamed on the newest deckhand, a skinny, jumpy lad that couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Asmussen was livid and he got to him before I knew what was happening. When I saw the boy strapped to the mast, I stepped into the path of the whip before it could strike. I was only in my shirtsleeves and much closer to the whip than the boy was, so it was worse than a normal lashing would have been. There weren’t the means to treat the wound properly. I regarded it as a souvenir when I left the ship soon after.”
Reinier’s lips twitched in a half smile. Blinking, he bowed his head and stared at his toes. His whole body seemed to convey that the tale was told.
It occurred to Emiline that after all this time they were finally having an open conversation without the usual jests or evasiveness. “Why did you not tell me this when we married? I was—am your wife. Why did I get cavalier jokes about some boyhood adventure gone wrong instead of the truth?”
Reinier shrugged, looking into the quiet pool. “Because I wasn’t looking for your sympathies and I was sure you’d never want to hear it.”
