“He’s ugly as sin, but he seems to be fine,” Striker said proudly.
“’E’s not ugly! ’E’s a baby!” Liam protested.
The Marquis smacked Striker lightly and pronounced, “He is beautiful,” once Striker’s words were translated.
I looked at all the happy faces and felt a warmth of the soul I had not remembered. Then I glanced over my shoulder and was relieved to find Gaston leaning on the railing, gazing down at us like a beneficent angel. I grinned at him, and he smiled with all the love I would ever need. I thanked the Gods – for many things, but most of all for him.
Seventy-Two
Wherein We Run Toward Ruin
“How is Sarah? Is she accepting visitors?” I asked Striker as he wrapped his son in his blanket and prepared to return him to his mother.
“Aye, aye, come up. Gaston says she is well,” he said quickly.
I had assumed as much; else Striker and my matelot would not have appeared so calm.
I followed him up the stairs and down the balcony and found my sister – though obviously exhausted – anxiously awaiting the return of her son in the middle of a cloud of clean white linen and netting. As Henrietta was scrubbing a spot on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Agnes was bundling up soiled bed clothes, I surmised the birthing had not occurred in the bed.
Striker placed the babe in his wife’s arms and snuggled beside her. Pete was leaning on the sash of the outer window, looking over the room with regal pride. Oddly, he appeared as tired as Sarah: as if he had been the one who gave birth.
Gaston embraced me as soon as I was within reach. He looked worn down but happy.
“I see it went well?” I murmured in French.
He grinned. “Much better than before. I learned much last time, and from that Garret woman.” Then he sobered. “But… Now that I have seen a healthy babe…”
I nodded quickly, not wanting to dwell on it here. He understood, and we exchanged a look that said we would discuss it later.
“So, will we be doing this again?” I teased Sarah as I went to the foot of the bed.
She snorted and smiled beatifically down at her son. “I cannot think of it now; but aye, I feel I would survive another. Striker wants an army.” She grinned at her husband.
I glanced at Pete and found him momentarily dismayed by the suggestion.
“You do not want an army?” I asked him.
Pete sighed. “TheWorryin’ Na’BeEasy.”
“Ah,” I said, as now I understood why he appeared exhausted. “Well, those of us not engaged in this lovely activity have been hatching plots to give you more to worry about.”
“Aw, Lord,” Striker said, as all eyes came to me, even Sarah’s and Henrietta’s.
“Liam, Julio, Davey, Nickel, and Bones did not wish to sail again – at least not this next voyage. So I have asked that they remain here to guard our treasures…” I indicated the bed. “Whilst we rove, and they have agreed.”
Gaston exhaled a truly relieved sigh.
Striker frowned, and I could see him mouthing the names and considering them. Sarah was frowning as well; but with her, I sensed it was more from putting names to faces than from the suggestion itself. I turned to Pete and found him nodding thoughtfully.
“We’llMissThose PawnsOnTheBoard,” he said, “ButGoodTa’Ave ’Em’Ere. ITrustMostO’’Em AsMuchAsAnyMan, An’LiamTenTimesThat. DaveyBeStupid, ButJulioBeSmart. An’BonesBeLazy, ButHonest. An’NickelSeemsAGoodSort.”
“I don’t know this Bones and Nickel,” Agnes said with a frown of her own, “And Davey is an arse, but Julio is always a gentleman, and Liam was always very kind to me.”
“Aye,” Striker said with a smile. “They have all agreed? That is good news. So they will guard Sarah and your wife?”
I nodded.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Henrietta said and pushed herself to her feet from where she had been scrubbing. “Will they be livin’ ’ere?”
“Aye,” I said. “Here and the Theodores’. They will need room and board. The matter of other compensation has not been discussed. Liam was, of course, bothered that I should mention such a thing; but if they are not getting prize money or planting during these next months, they will need something.”
“Aye, of course,” Striker agreed readily.
“Well, sirs,” Henrietta said diffidently. “Where will be housin’ ’em? We’ll need a barracks.”
I chuckled. “I would imagine in the guest rooms.” I looked to Sarah and she nodded. “Gaston and I will not be here, and neither will the Marquis or Miss Vines.”
“Where will Christine live?” Sarah asked.
“Well,” I said with a short huff of a sigh. “We were hoping France.”
Except for Agnes, they all regarded us with curiosity.
“I will not marry her,” Gaston said.
“Oh,” Sarah and Striker said as one.
“Good,” Pete said. “SheNa’Know ’ErPlace.”
This garnered him a raised eyebrow from Sarah.
He crossed his arms. “SomeWomenNa’ Know’OwTaBe MarriedTaTwo Men. An’IfYaWereLike’Er, IWouldaStrangledYa.”
Sarah smiled glumly. “I suppose that is true. I do not feel Christine wishes to marry, anyway.”
“She doesn’t,” Agnes said above her own crossed arms. “Not truly.”
Striker shrugged and looked to me. “So, we will exchange one set of house guests for another, and we shall sail. I’m pleased you were able to arrange all that while we were busy.”
“There is more,” I said.
Gaston chuckled. “What else have you done?” he whispered in French.
I sighed. “We have been discussing a manner of keeping the four of us safe while roving. Our friends learned of the price on your heads from men on the Queen.”
This brought a round of curses, even from Sarah.
I smiled. “They have assured all who sail on our vessel that such a thing ever being considered will not be taken lightly. But… It is likely that word of it has spread throughout the Brethren and the fleet. We will be at risk in any engagement where some damn greedy fool feels he can drop one of us and claim it. Though I imagine, if one of us does fall, there will be dozens of claimants, even if the gunman is a Spaniard.”
“Aye,” Pete grumbled. “WeDieO’The FluxAn’Some Bastard’llClaimIt.”
“Well, not you or Will,” Striker teased. “There’s no price on your heads.”
“There might as well be,” I said soberly. “I have informed Alonso that if Gaston dies I will take my life.”
Henrietta crossed herself. It reminded me of her presence, and though I had no reason not to trust the woman, she could be a bit talkative, perhaps at an inopportune time.
I addressed her. “Perhaps you should see if my sister requires anything after her labor,” I said politely.
“Oh… I suppose, of course,” she stammered. Her eyes were on me, though, and full of concern. “That’s na’ a thing ya should…”
I sighed. “Henrietta, taking my life will not send me to Hell any more or any less than anything else I have done in my life. Truly.”
Her face constricted in a grimace of concern and disapproval, but she pulled her gaze from me and looked to her mistress.
“I would like some water, and perhaps some chocolate,” Sarah said.
Henrietta nodded and left us. I felt every other eye in the room upon me in her wake.
“Why did you need to tell Alonso that?” Striker asked.
“Because he thinks he would benefit from Gaston’s death,” I said. “He thinks he might win me back if Gaston is gone.”
Sarah and Agnes grimaced cutely with incredulity: perhaps at Alonso’s hubris, perhaps at mine. Pete made a disparaging noise. Striker smirked.
I did not wish to turn and look at my matelot; but I listened for the door in case he exited it to go and kill Alonso. Gaston’s arms slipped around me from behind and he kissed my neck sweetly.
“Let’sJustKill�
��Im,” Pete said.
“I considered it,” I sighed. “But our friends have grown fond of him, and he protests that he would never be party to such a thing.”
“Aye,” Striker said. “Cudro and the Bard spoke highly of him. Do you trust him?”
I took the time to truly consider that question in light of whether they could trust him, not I. “I do not think he would do anything to harm you. I do not believe he would make an attempt on Gaston’s life directly. I would not leave him here to guard the women. He is not at heart an honest man, and has a wolf’s principles. But… he does have his merits if his goals are concurrent with one’s own. He does value loyalty, and it is a thing he aspires to.”
I shook my head at their frowns. “He was the best I could manage at the time.”
Striker smirked, and Pete snorted quietly.
“He’s a handsome devil, and charming,” Striker said.
“Which one is he?” Agnes asked. “And he was your lover? Is that what you are saying?”
Sarah also appeared perplexed.
“Aye, aye, Alonso,” I sighed. “You might have met him briefly before the Queen sailed. We were lovers in Florence, years ago. We encountered him in Porto Bello and he joined our number and came here.”
“That was my doing,” Striker said with a frown of regret.
“Aye,” I agreed. “I would not have brought him… Not after it became apparent he still truly believes he loves me. But we had greater concerns. I told him then, though, that I would kill him if he did anything to come between us.”
“Is he stupid?” Sarah asked.
“For which?” I asked with a wry smile. “Being in love with me, or thinking I will return to him?”
She shrugged and grinned. “Both, I suppose.”
“Aye, that is a question,” Striker said, as if it were of great philosophical merit.
Gaston’s embrace tightened about me, and he whispered in my ear, “I still think I should fuck you in front of him.”
Despite a decade spent living the life of jaded libertine, I felt the color rise in my cheeks.
This garnered a great deal of amusement about the room.
I ignored them, and turned in his arms to face him and push him back to the wall. “As we will all be trapped together on a tiny ship, I feel that will be inevitable,” I whispered huskily.
He grinned. “Good.” But then he sobered, and concern haunted his eyes. “You will not take issue with it…”
“Non,” I said seriously. Our last discussion of the matter had somehow ended in both of us being mad, him having another ragged scar across his chest where I nearly killed him, and my jaw being broken. “But… we should talk on this elsewhere and later.”
He kissed my lips gently.
I turned back to the others and attempted to collect my wayward thoughts. There were many things that must be discussed. I felt all our remaining hours in Port Royal would surely be spent talking to someone about something – or rather, trying to convince them of it.
“Be all that as it may,” I said dismissively of Alonso. “Cudro and the Bard feel we will be safe upon the Queen, but not in battle. To that end, we discussed how to safeguard us. We think it best if we are all tucked away somewhere so that any who wish to harm us cannot do it by means of an unfortunate line of fire or some other accident. Gaston has expressed a wish to be surgeon. I can be his assistant. Wherever we go on the Spanish Main, there are likely to be wounds and ailments in good supply to keep us busy.”
I looked to Gaston, who had moved to stand beside me. He nodded soberly.
“But that does not address the two of you,” I said to Striker.
“I can’t hide as captain,” Striker said.
“That is why it might be best for you not to be captain,” I said with an apologetic grimace.
“Aye,” Pete said. “IBeenThinkin’That.”
“Good,” I said to him. “We were wondering what your fiendish tactical mind was planning.”
Striker was frowning at the babe sleeping in Sarah’s arms. Pete was frowning at his matelot.
I continued quietly. “We thought you could either not accept the nomination as captain, or we could concoct some ailment or wound that would require you to step down – and leave you in Gaston’s care, with your matelot at your side, of course.”
Sarah’s face contorted into a concerned grimace, and she caressed her husband’s face. He looked up at her, and I saw the love pass between them as if it were a palpable thing.
Striker nodded and turned to look at Pete and me. “It will be suspicious if I do not sail as captain. Let us sail, and get wherever Morgan wishes to plunder, and then… We will concoct whatever won’t be questioned, and I’ll step down.”
Pete appeared relieved, and Sarah’s eyes closed and she kissed Striker’s forehead.
“I need to live a lot more than I need to be a captain,” Striker told everyone with a mildly chiding tone. Then he grinned. “I’m not a fool.”
“Cudro wants all to know that he has no design upon the position,” I said. “He just wishes to keep you safe.”
Striker snorted. “If I didn’t trust the bastard, I wouldn’t have let him sail off with our ship for two months.” He looked to Sarah. “But I should probably tell him that myself.”
Sarah nodded, and Striker stood and leaned down to kiss her, and then what little skin of the sleeping bundle was available to lay his lips upon. Then he strode to the door, and Pete followed him.
Gaston began arranging his medicine chest so we could carry it downstairs.
“Do you need me to stay?” Agnes asked as she stepped to the table and lowered the lamp.
“Nay, go, sleep…” Sarah sighed. “Ask Henrietta of my chocolate.”
Agnes left us.
“We will all return,” I told Sarah.
She regarded me sadly. “I am sorry I was angry with you.”
I frowned. I had known her angry about events, and at me for being the bearer of news she did not wish to hear; but not at me in the way which she was now implying.
“I forgive you, for whatever you were angry about.”
She smiled. “I felt my life was caught in some war between you and Father. I have felt that since you returned to England. That I was a pawn in someone else’s game.”
My breath caught as I realized how everything must have appeared from her perspective.
Gaston paused and turned to gaze at her.
“I am sorry,” I said. “I can see where that would be very easy to feel.”
She shook her head and waved the past away. “If things had not occurred as they did, I would not be here now, loved as I am, with this beautiful child in my arms. So I regret nothing. And… I have thought on it, and I do not blame you. Truly, I have never blamed you. You are as much a victim as I. Our father is the damn culprit. I do not even blame Shane as I blame him.”
“For so long,” I sighed, “I did view Shane as the culprit: I thought him the root of all the evil in my life. But nay, you are correct, it is our father. And… somehow, that hurts more than Shane, even though I once thought that bastard loved me. Father never loved me. So, ironically, there was no betrayal, in that there was nothing to be lost; yet there was, in that a thing that should have existed, never did.”
“I betrayed myself,” Sarah said. “I saw love where it did not exist. Father does not love; he admires things that please him. Or rather, he is kind to things that please him. He is indifferent or cruel to things that do not. I used to please him; whereas, you never did. I used to think he loved me; at least you spared yourself that.”
A tear glistened on her cheek in the lamplight. I felt its echo in my eyes.
“We will let you rest,” I said, and went to help Gaston with the medicine chest.
“You had best all return,” she said as we reached the door. “Do not make me have to follow the lot of you to Hell.”
I chuckled. “I try not to believe in Hell.”
“Tha
t is probably for the best,” she said with quiet amusement.
We left her with my nephew, and walked down the balcony. Below us, the courtyard was alive with revelry. Striker was speaking from the head of the table, offering toasts. The Marquis and Dupree were still with them. Alonso had stepped into the light to sit with the others.
I looked to Gaston. “Shall we join them?”
He smiled. “For a time.”
Agnes stepped from the shadows of her door into our path as we reached the top of the stairs. She gave me quite a start, and I reached for the pistol at my belt. Gaston appeared likewise surprised.
“What is it?” he asked quickly.
She looked concerned: her long face pinched with worry and her fingers constantly weaving. “I was thinking…” She sighed.
I sat my side of the heavy medicine chest down; and, with a sigh, Gaston lowered his as well.
“Well…” she stammered. “During our… experiments… could I get with child?”
I knew Gaston blanched, even though I could not see him clearly in the shadows. I swore silently and spoke kindly. “Aye, you could. It is a risk ever-present in such activities. If such a thing were to occur, you need never worry about you or the child being cared for.”
“I am not concerned about that,” she said quickly. “I do not wish to give birth. I have seen it twice now, and it is not a thing I wish to do.”
“There are ways to avoid pregnancy,” Gaston said quietly. “Draughts and old remedies.”
I could hear the discomfort in his voice.
“Should I take them now?” she asked.
“You would take them after you feel you are with child,” he said sadly. “Or, before, but after, and they will act to…”
Her face contorted with surprise. “I do not want to miscarry the child,” she whispered. “Is there not something I could take before…”
He sighed heavily. “There are supposedly concoctions, but even Mistress Garret could not swear to their usefulness. The only sure way is to poison you or the child such that you miscarry.”
Treasure Page 51
