It was a dark night when the Tempest, with Cornelius as her navigator, sailed through a narrow inlet, silently staying well out of view of the Josephine.
Two hours before dawn, Judah ordered the oars muffled and the longboats lowered over the side. Men armed and ready for a fight noiselessly maneuvered the shallows until they came alongside the French ship.
Silently, Tom climbed aboard the Josephine and came up behind a sleepy guard, clamping his hand over the man's mouth and rapping him hard across the back of the head. Then Tom attached his grappling hook to the railing and threw a rope over the side. Soon he was joined by a second man, who performed the same deed, and then another and another, until they were all on board.
It was a surprised French admiral who awoke with a pistol aimed at his head.
"Yield or die, Admiral," Judah said, smiling.
The admiral sat up slowly, trying to shake off the effects of sleep. His fleshy face was red with indignation, his nightcap askew. "Who dares enter my cabin with such a ludicrous demand? Do you not know who I am, Monsieur?"
"No," Judah said mockingly. "Suppose you tell me."
"I am the Marquis de la Taille," he said haughtily, "and this is my ship."
"Wrong on at least one count, Marquis de la Taille. This ship now belongs to me." Judah pulled back the hammer on his pistol and placed the barrel at the man's temple. "You have two choices: You can either go ashore—and I hasten to add that your men are already there—or you can accompany your ship, in which case you will be under my command. I do not believe you will like the last option."
"Who are you?"
Judah bowed to him with a flourish. "I, Marquis de la Taille, am the new captain of the Josephine. Now I grow impatient. Which is it to be—do you stay or shall I put you ashore?"
The Frenchman threw his covers aside and stood up to his full height. "I will see you in hell for this, Monsieur."
Judah picked up the man's trousers and waistcoat and tossed them at him.
"You will have to fall in line, I believe there are other Frenchmen ahead of you."
William York hunched his shoulders, trying to appear inconspicuous until he saw Judah Gallant threading his way through the throngs toward him. William brightened at the sight of the young captain he had come to like so well.
"Is it true that you captured the Josephine?" William asked in amazement, hardly giving Judah time to sit down before barraging him with questions.
"You will find that she is manned and ready to make her voyage to the United States, awaiting only my word to sail. I thought you might want to return home aboard her."
William's eyes glistened with excitement. "That I do.' This is indeed a victory. An admirable addition to our fleet and the best prize you have taken thus far."
Judah watched the door, a habit he had developed whenever he was ashore. "William, when I agreed to take on this mission, I had the impression that I was to aid in discovering Napoleon's plans for Louisiana. It was never my aim to furnish captured ships for the American navy. I am a shipbuilder, remember?"
"I understand how you feel, but consider this as a great strike against Napoleon." Seeing the frown on Judah's face, William decided it was best to speak of other matters. "Have you no news for us?"
"No, but you might be interested in a plan 1 discovered on the Josephine detailing Napoleon's strategy in his naval war with Lord Nelson."
William's eyes gleamed. "Excellent! I shall pass the information on to the president and he can decide how best to use it."
"You have the money for my men?"
"I do. They are gaining wealth while playing at pirating.”
Judah's eyes suddenly darkened. "Let this be understood, William. My men are not playing, as you put it. They have risked their lives many times and have not once asked why. What I want from the president, more than money, is a full pardon for every man who has sailed with me."
"I am not sure I can accomplish that. You must be aware that some of your men are dangerous fugitives."
"Be that as it may, I must insist that every man jack aboard the Tempest be granted a pardon, or I will sail for Boston this very day."
William could see that Judah meant exactly what he said, so he made a quick decision. "You have my word I will try."
"Try isn't good enough. Do it!"
William sighed in resignation. "I believe that the president will act on my recommendation. But I must warn you that his is the final word."
"I understand that, but I trust you to convince him that these men have earned their freedom." Judah leaned in closer, his expression grim. "There will, of course, be one man who will be excluded from the pardon. I trust you have discovered the identity of the spy aboard my ship."
William looked perturbed. "Not precisely. The word is that the culprit is not a man at all, but a woman, and I do not know how that could be. I questioned the validity of the information, but I was assured that it is reliable."
Judah's eyes narrowed. He had to be the greatest fool who had ever drawn breath. "So," he said under his breath, "all this time I have suspected that one of my men was a turncoat, when all along it was—" He slid his chair back and stood up abruptly. "If you have nothing further to tell me, I have matters that need my attention."
William was profoundly disappointed and could not understand why Judah had suddenly become so agitated. "But, I had hoped to hear the account of how you captured the Josephine."
Judah braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. "I shall send you a detailed report. Meanwhile, I want you to see if you can find out anything about a woman by the name of Dominique Charbonneau. Begin your search here on Tobago, since this is where I first encountered her."
With many questions unanswered, William nodded, then watched in astonishment as Judah stalked across the taproom in obvious anger. He would not want to be the recipient of Captain Gallant's wrath.
Dominique stood at Judah's desk, her hand hovering over his logbook as her mind ebbed and flowed like the waves that lapped against the ship. She needed the information from that book, but at the same time she was appalled at the thought of prying into his secrets.
She found herself facing a painful decision in which she must choose between saving the lives of her family or delivering Judah into Colonel Marceau's hands. She wanted to lay her head on the desk and cry, for if she chose to betray Judah, she would be going against everything her grandfather had taught her—she would be without honor.
Her hand ran across the smooth leather binding of the logbook and, reluctantly, she opened it. She immediately glanced upward, unable to look upon the words that would be written in Judah's own hand.
With tears gathering in her eyes, she made her decision. Slowly she closed the book, praying that God would save her brother and grandfather, because she could not.
"So," a deep voice spoke up behind her, "did you find all you needed to know?"
She gathered her courage and slowly turned to face Judah. "I was waiting for you."
His features were savage, and there was something dangerous about him. "I believe we have played this scene before—but not to its conclusion."
As she stood there looking into ice-blue eyes, she became aware of the reason she had been unable to betray him—she loved him! That realization came to her with a suddenness that left her stunned.
"I am glad you are here. There is something I must tell you."
When Judah did not respond, but merely looked at her with an expression she did not understand, she gave him a questioning gaze. "You were not ashore for long."
His laughter was bitter. "Did I return too soon?"
Dominique's expression was guarded. She had been prepared to confess everything to Judah and to beg him to help her free her family. But he was so cold and distant, she dared not confide in him. He was frightening her in a way he never had before.
"Come here, Dominique," he demanded harshly, holding out his hand.
Although she ached for his touch,
something told her there was danger here. She shook her head, bewilderment showing momentarily in her eyes, and she backed against the desk, oblivious of the fury she aroused in Judah by denying him.
He walked to her and held out his hand, and finally, she reluctantly reached out to him. His touch burned through her quaking body and she tried to pull away.
Judah regarded her coldly, as his hand clamped painfully about hers. "You said there was something you wanted to tell me—a confession, perhaps?"
He had come too close to the truth, and she realized that he was regarding her with scorn.
"I. .. have nothing to say," she faltered.
"Ah well, I have oft times observed that a woman changes her mind as frequently as the wind changes course."
She had never seen his eyes so devoid of warmth or his manner so intense. "Is something bothering you, Judah?"
He looked at her through veiled lashes. "Should there be?"
He was strange, cold, lofty, and angry—but why? "You are acting—"
"Yes?"
"Different?"
He gave her a long, level stare before continuing.
"Why do you suppose that is?"
"Perhaps you could tell me."
"I believe now would be a good time for you to tell me why you sought sanctuary on my ship." He watched her closely. "Tell me, Dominique."
She shifted her weight and glanced down at the floor. "There are many things I would like to tell you that I cannot."
"That is always a female's argument when she is hiding something. What secrets are you trying to conceal?"
Her head snapped up and she stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He smiled tightly. "Suppose we speak of other things for the moment. I thought you might like to know that Tom Beeton has sailed with the Josephine."
Now she was frightened. "Why did you send Tom away?"
"So he can no longer interrupt us at inopportune moments." He jerked her forward and her body slammed into his. "Can you guess what it is like to desire a woman as I desire you?" His hand moved to the laces at the back of her gown. "Yes, a woman of your profession knows how to heat a man's blood."
She shook her head, unable to speak—she wanted to stay and she wanted to flee. "Your daring is only exceeded by your audacity, Captain," she said, in an attempt at bravado.
His eyes raked her dark hair and he touched it, allowing it to sift like raw silk through his fingers. "You have been like a fever in my brain, consuming my mind, almost to the point of madness. I must have you or there will be no reprieve from this torment."
"I... do not want to do this."
He tilted her chin and stared intensely into her aqua eyes. "Yes, you do. You have wanted this from the beginning, or so you led me to believe. Have you been deceiving me, Dominique?"
He had deftly unlaced her gown and it fluttered to the floor. His lips traced a trail across her cheek and down the arch of her neck, igniting her desire with each stroke of his hand, each whispered word.
"Lovely, lovely temptress, nothing can keep us apart now."
He studied her in silence for a long breathless moment as his mouth moved slowly toward hers to meet in a flaming kiss—his hungrily, hers timorous and quivering. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed, tossing her down while he removed his clothing and joined her there.
She stared at him wide-eyed. One moment he spoke to her of desire, and the next she sensed a hidden fury within him. What did it mean?
She could not think clearly as she was assailed by glorious feelings that rocked her body to the core when Judah pressed his naked form against hers.
"Sweet siren," he murmured, "I am about to partake of the fruits of your body."
His mouth swept across the crest of her breasts, and she felt desire beyond her wildest imagination. Her skin seemed to tingle all over and she was finding it difficult to catch her breath.
But more was to come as his hand swept downward, circling, tantalizing, then jabbed inside her, causing her to moan at the sensation that riveted through her body.
He suddenly drew back, not wanting her to find pleasure in their coupling. She was, after all, merely a whore who had been paid by one of his enemies to seduce him, and he would treat her as she deserved. "Are you ready to receive me?" he growled in a hard voice.
The words seemed ripped from her lips. "Yes, oh, yes."
Before she understood what was happening, he was atop her and he rammed forward, penetrating her, causing her unexpected pain.
When Judah felt the tightness of her as his drive ripped her maidenhead away, and she uttered an anguished cry, he was startled. She had never been with a man!
The fact that she had lied to him about that, too, only fueled his anger. But the silkiness of her enveloped him and he could not have stopped if it meant his life. He grasped her waist and plunged deeper into her, stilling his movements only when she cried out in pain. He gentled his movements and curbed his passion until he found blessed relief from his need of her.
Abruptly, he rolled to his side and stared at her. She looked somehow like a crushed flower, and he could guess why. The first time was never pleasant for a woman, unless the man wooed her gently. Had he known that she was a virgin, he would have made it enjoyable for her. He was suddenly ashamed of himself. Dominique should have been taken with tenderness and love, but he had none of that to give her.
Well, he thought, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle with his guilt, it was her fault for allowing him to think she had a jaded past.
By way of apology, he bent to her and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.
The casual way he kissed her seemed to mean nothing to him, and Dominique was humiliated. She could not blame him because she had encouraged him to make love to her.
"I have matters to attend to," Judah said coldly, poking his shirt into his trousers. "Do not wait up for me."
She raised unhappy eyes to him. "You expect me to stay here and wait for you?"
"I insist on it. From this day, you will remain here with me, where I can keep my eye on you."
He went to his desk, picked up his logbook and dropped it down beside her. "You appeared interested in this earlier. I give you leave to read it at your leisure."
The book dropped from her nimble fingers to the floor and she turned her face to the wall. Something had happened when Judah went ashore today, something that had made him angry, and that anger had been directed at her.
She tried to empty her mind so she could think clearly. She had always known that she would have to give herself to Judah, so she had no regret on that account. But as far as she was concerned, the act of lovemaking had not been as wonderful as the imagining of it.
She pressed her hand over her eyes, unable to stop the sudden flow of tears. She had failed. Now the only thing to do was to return to Guadeloupe—and she must do it soon.
16
Dominique made no attempt to leave Judah's cabin. Although it was not locked, she felt like his prisoner all the same. She had bathed, then dressed in her trousers and shirt, and was now sitting on a padded window seat, her legs curled beneath her.
The sun had gone down hours ago, and still she waited for Judah to appear. She closed her eyes, hoping to wipe away images of him that kept creeping into her mind unbidden and unwelcome. Images of him touching her, his lips kissing her, and then ...
Restlessly, she closed her mind to the memories. It had only been the night before when she had given herself to Judah, and instead of the joy she had expected to experience, she felt emptiness.
Perhaps the actual act was more enjoyable for a man than it was for a woman. Or perhaps there was something wrong with her!
She decided to pretend that she liked it when he made love to her. Otherwise, he might guess that he was the only man she had ever been with.
At last, the cabin door opened and Judah entered. His dark hair was windblown, and she had the strong urge to run her fingers through it and sweep it back into plac
e.
He looked at her clothing in disdain. "You should not have felt that you had to dress for me."
She feigned a bored yawn, but in fact she watched him move toward her with a lithe grace.
"How have you passed your day, Dominique?"
"Wishing I was somewhere that you were not," she said, turning away from him and pretending to be interested in the contents of his bookshelf. Yet, as she ran her hand down the titles, she did not see them; she was only aware of Judah.
Dominique's audacity nettled him, but he would allow her to play out her game—at least for a while. "Have you supped?"
"Yes," she replied, refusing to be drawn into a conversation with him.
He stared at her for a moment before he spoke. "Is there anything you would like?"
"No. I want for nothing."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and a crewman entered, carrying a wooden tub, while several others carried pails of steaming water to fill it. Dominique noticed that they studiously avoided looking at her as they went about their tasks.
After they had gone, Judah began stripping off his clothing, so Dominique hurried to the door, intending to leave the cabin.
He caught her hand. "Don't go."
"I thought you might like privacy."
He looked at her sardonically. "There is nothing private between us, is there?"
She shook her head. "Not after last night."
He sat down and removed his boots. "Do I hear accusation in your tone?"
"No. Why should you think that? I was honest from the beginning about the kind of woman I was. You should not have been surprised that I—"
He watched her carefully. "What kind of woman do you think you are? As I recall, you indicated that you could not even remember how many men you had been with."
She gracefully raised her shoulders in a shrug. "No more than you can recall all the women who have lain beneath you."
He set his expression into a tight frown—it was either that or laugh and he dared not do that. She was even more innocent than he'd thought. She had no notion that a man could tell when a woman was a virgin. Before him she had been untouched by any man.
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