Siren's Song

by Constance O'Banyon

  "Shhh," Dominique whispered, "he would rather not be associated with the family that spawned France's beheaded queen. You do understand?"

  "Yes, of course," Marceau sputtered, "but anyone who looks at him can tell he is a man of great consequence. Would that I knew the name of his tailor."

  Dominique raised her fan to hide a smile. Then she closed it with a flourish. "I would not ask him such a question, Colonel. You know how the royals are."

  "Oh, yes—yes indeed."

  Dominique drew in a relieved breath—they had passed the hardest obstacle, Tom.

  Now Ethan joined in the conversation. "So good of you to ask us here, Colonel Marceau. I have cherished the thought of seeing this vicious pirate paraded before us." Ethan pretended to look worried. "Will we be safe, do you think?"

  "Have no fear, Monsieur," Colonel Marceau said with swaggering confidence. "Captain Gallant is in no condition to harm anyone. I have seen to that. Besides, he will be in chains and I will have a guard on either side of him."

  "But still—"

  "You will find he has little fight left in him. Even should he be able to stand on his own, he would be no threat to anyone." The colonel indicated the door to the dining room. "Come, shall we dine? The entertainment comes later."

  Dominique sat beside Colonel Marceau, listening to his embellished accounts of the apprehension of the dreaded pirate, Judah Gallant. If he were to be believed, he had captured the captain in person and single-handedly. She tasted none of the food, and several times had to look away so Marceau would not see the hatred in her eyes.

  "Mademoiselle Charbonneau," he said, leaning close to her so the others would not hear, "allow us to extend our condolences. We had heard that your grandfather has passed to the beyond."

  She took a steadying breath, knowing she was sitting beside her grandfather's murderer. She managed to keep her voice low because she did not want Ethan or Tom to hear. "Yes, it was a pity, Colonel. I believe you had only released him from your prison the day Windward burned."

  "As to that, I am glad to have this opportunity to tell you that while your grandfather resided with us, he had the best of care." He did not tell her this was done because he feared that the old man would die while in his custody, thus bringing trouble down on his head.

  "So," she said, trying to keep her tone even. "All the time I imagined my grandfather locked in a cell, he was kept in comfort?"

  "That is so, he was. I even had his doctor look in on him from time to time. 1 can assure you that your grandfather had no reason to complain of his treatment."

  Dominique blinked her eyes, forcing a smile. "And what of my brother?"

  Marceau shrugged. "I believe that you already know we never actually had your brother in custody." He spread his hands on the table and studied them. "While I am confessing, I might admit that I also invented the notion of the torture box. I never actually had that either. It is just an effective ruse that I use from time to time."

  It was all Dominique could do to smile at him. "You are too clever. Was it you who sent me the anonymous note telling me Valcour had been arrested?"

  "Indeed. I saw no other way to get you here. And to be precise, he was almost in our custody, but he was spirited away from the island. When you came here looking for him, I realized that you had no part in his escape."

  "You are a genius. But what made you decide to use me to get what you wanted?"

  "As I told you, you are a very beautiful woman. And I was certain that you could help us trap Captain Gallant, which you did." He looked at her closely. "You understand why I had to do what I did?"

  "You told me on our first meeting that great men must often resort to the unseemly to obtain their aspirations."

  He nodded. "Exactly so!" He took a drink of wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I am becoming very important, Mademoiselle Charbonneau." He patted his jacket pocket, then removed a letter. "I have here a letter from the minister of war himself." Distracted by loud laughter at the other end of the table, Marceau absently tried to tuck the letter into his pocket, not noticing that it fell to the floor.

  Dominique pretended to drop her napkin, and when she bent to pick it up, she also scooped up the letter. Artfully, she tucked it into her reticule, then turned to Ethan, and lowered her voice so that Marceau could not hear.

  "Be alert, Ethan. I will soon ask him to bring Judah here."

  *] 200 CONSTANCE O'BANYON

  Ethan nodded. "He is a braggart and a popinjay, " he said with a contempt he could not conceal. "I cannot bear the sound of his voice."

  "What's that you said?" Colonel Marceau asked, resentful of being left out of any conversation.

  Dominique gritted her teeth, but managed to smile. "My friend was just remarking on your manner of speech."

  Marceau preened. "I have oft been told that I should be an orator, but you see, I chose instead the military life."

  "Such a loss to the literary world, I am sure," Dominique said flatteringly.

  "Quite so," Colonel Marceau agreed. "Quite so."

  Judah had been beaten so many times that he no longer felt the whip. His swollen face was covered with bruises and dried blood, and there were open wounds on his back. Every time he moved, pain shot though his ribs. No matter how often they beat him, he would never tell them where to find the Tempest.

  He was hungry, not having eaten in days, but mostly he was thirsty because they had offered him no water.

  When the cell door opened, he did not even bother to look up, but when he was doused with a bucket of cold water, he came to his feet, reaching out toward his tormentor as far as he could, being chained to the wall.

  "French bastard!" he said through clenched teeth.

  "Well, now that just shows that Americans have no appreciation," the Frenchman said to his companion, who had just soaked Judah with a second bucket of water. "We are here to get you groomed and curried so you can be displayed before Colonel Marceau's important guests. I'm told one of them is a beautiful woman, and you wouldn't want her seeing you looking less than presentable."

  "Oui," his companion said, snickering. "It is the woman who put you here, pirate."

  Judah raised his head and cried out, closer to breaking than at any time in his captivity. "No, not her! Surely not her."

  It was all Dominique could do to show no emotion when Judah was led into the room in chains. She felt a comforting hand seek hers beneath the table and saw understanding in Ethan's eyes.

  She blinked back tears when she watched Judah stumble, and when the guard used the chain about his wrists to jerk him to his feet, she had to turn away. At last, she raised her eyes to Judah's face and found him staring at her with such hatred that it chilled her heart.

  She must not falter now or all would be lost. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she rose to her feet, ready to play her part. Although it would be a most difficult accomplishment, she must appear uncaring and cruel.

  Judah's vision was blurred and he was not sure how long he could stand without falling. He looked at no one but the woman who had betrayed him. He had not known it would cause him such agony to see her again. There was a part of him that wanted to break her, to make her beg for mercy for what she had done to him, and there was another side—that part of his mind that he tried to suppress—that wanted to hear her say that she had not betrayed him for money.

  Dominique walked slowly toward Judah while all eyes followed her. Laughingly, she turned back to Colonel Marceau. "Send the guards away, I am uncomfortable with them listening to my every word."

  Colonel Marceau was in a jovial mood and ready to indulge Dominique's smallest whim. He nodded, and the guards withdrew. "You are very courageous, Mademoiselle Charbonneau. Many women would swoon and faint at the sight of this man, in fear of their lives. He is the most notorious pirate ever to draw breath."

  She sauntered around Judah and came to stand in front of him. "I do not fear him." She laid a gentle hand on Judah's arm, and he jerked away. "H
e," she said, shattered by the hatred she saw in Judah's eyes, "does not look so fierce to me."

  She wanted to cry, to take his head and hold it against her breasts, to heal his wounds and his heart and body. She wanted to assure him that his suffering would soon end and that she would take him away from this horrid place.

  But of course she could not.

  "Do not stand so close," Colonel Marceau warned. "He might still have enough life in him to reach out to you."

  "He seems subdued," she said, taking her fan and tapping Judah on the shoulder. "Would it not be more humiliating for him to stand before us without benefit of restraint, knowing he is still within your power?"

  Marceau eagerly agreed. He produced a key and unlocked the chains that fell to the floor with a clatter.

  "Mademoiselle Charbonneau," Marceau bragged. "This man has been whipped like a dog and tortured for his crimes, but he is still stubborn and will not give us the information we want. Perhaps we should enlist your help again."

  Marceau shook with laughter and grabbed a handful of Judah's hair and turned his head so he was forced to look at Dominique. "Look upon the face of the woman who was essential in your capture."

  "Go to hell," Judah said, fighting against the waves of sickness that washed over him, threatening to drag him down into a tide of unconsciousness. He must not show that weakness before Dominique, no matter how much she taunted him.

  "You know this woman as Mademoiselle Charbonneau," Colonel Marceau continued. "But I christened her Delilah going out to bring Samson to his knees—and she has done that as well as her ancient counterpart."

  Judah's eyes were burning with a fury that gave him a momentarily surge of strength. "So easily she toppled me.

  Dominique could feel a sob rising in her throat. She could not endure much more, and Judah was weakening before her eyes. They would have to act now!

  "Shall I show you how I did it, Colonel?" she asked, moving closer to Judah.

  "Oui," Colonel Marceau said, enjoying himself immensely. "I would like that."

  With a flourish, she produced a small dagger that she had concealed within the folds of her fan.

  The colonel only laughed when he saw the weapon. "Surely you did not use that toy on the great Judah Gallant."

  Suddenly Judah was not watching her. He had glanced at the table, and through a haze of pain, he was baffled by what he saw. Ethan dining with the enemy; Tom in that ridiculous apparel! He must be more delirious than he had thought.

  Judah turned back to Dominique and watched as she ran a delicate finger down the edge of the dagger. "Tell me, Colonel," she said, moving to the Frenchman and placing the point of her dagger at his throat, "what would you do if I applied pressure to this . . . toy, as you called it? I can assure you that it is sharp enough to slit a man's throat."

  He was still laughing, but there was a touch of nervousness about his laugh now. "So this is what you did to him?"

  "No, Colonel, this is what I am doing to you. I can slice your windpipe before you can call for help. Do you understand me?"

  He swallowed convulsively. "You must be careful, Mademoiselle, that is dangerous."

  Her eyes pierced his. "I am glad you realize that."

  Tom climbed over the table and rushed forward, and Ethan quickly followed.

  Tom produced a larger, more deadly looking knife and placed it at a now trembling Colonel Marceau's throat. "The lady's got it right, Frenchman. Make a sound or move a step, and I'll slit your gullet."

  Colonel Marceau dropped to his knees, his eyes wild with terror. He reached out to grab at Dominique, but Tom pulled him back by the seat of his trousers and yanked him to a standing position.

  "Help me, Mademoiselle Charbonneau," the colonel pleaded. "Your friend is a madman!"

  "Not a madman, Monsieur," she told him, "but a bloodthirsty pirate who would like nothing better than to plunge his knife into you. If you do as you are told, I may be able to restrain him. If not—" She shrugged. "Who can tell what he is capable of."

  Ethan slid a supporting arm about Judah, as he spoke to the Frenchman. "You are going to help us get out of here, Colonel. So listen well and obey. You will stay alive a lot longer that way."

  For a moment, Colonel Marceau saw hope and a chance to escape. "You cannot get past the sentry at the gate."

  Ethan shrugged. "If we do not leave here alive, you do not leave here either. Do I make myself understood?"

  Dominique opened the door and glanced into the hallway. "There is a guard just outside."

  Ethan grabbed Colonel Marceau and brought his face forward, almost even with his. "Order that man to have our coach brought to the front. Tell him that you are going with us."

  "But—"

  "Tell him now, or I'll let Tom loose on you."

  That threat was all Colonel Marceau needed to make up his mind. He looked fearfully into the eyes of the man he had mistaken for royalty. What a fool, what an imbecile he had been. "I will do as you say," he agreed. "But do not let that crazed man at me."

  Dominique took the cloak Ethan had worn and slipped it about Judah's shoulders. She then took Tom's ridiculous green hat and placed it on Judah's head, pulling it low over his forehead to disguise his features.

  "Are you able to walk unaided?" she asked, looking into Judah's bewildered eyes.

  He could only nod. But when he tried to take a step, he staggered and fell to his knees.

  "Cap'n," Tom said, hurrying to his side, "kinda act like you was in your cups—you know—like you had too much libation. Then you can lean on me, and they won't think nothing about it."

  "We'll ask the same of you, Frenchman," Ethan said. "I'll be walking so close to you that when I take a breath you'll feel it. If you're wise, you will convince your men that you drank too much because my pistol will be sticking in your ribs."

  Colonel Marceau nervously licked his lips and nodded.

  Dominique was surprised at how easily the plan worked. Soon the carriage was on its way through the gate of the fort, and in moments they had left Basse-Terre behind.

  Glancing back, she was relieved to see that no one followed them. Tom had positioned himself near the driver, his pistol primed and ready in case of trouble. The coach bounced over rutted roads, and they were soon joined by two outriders, who were heavily armed.

  Ethan examined Judah by the lantern light that swayed with the motion of the coach. "Thank God he is unconscious, or the ride would be too much for him to endure."

  Dominique kept a pistol leveled at Colonel Marceau's heart because she did not trust him not to attempt to jump out of the coach. How cowardly he was without his guards around him, she thought with contempt.

  "You are very clever, Mademoiselle Charbonneau," the Frenchman said. "But how do you think you will escape this island?"

  She smiled. "If I were you, I would wonder how you are going to make your way back to the fort."

  "What are you going to do to me?"

  "I have a friend who will take you to the great swamp, where he will leave you."

  "You will not kill me?" the colonel asked hopefully, relief showing on his face.

  "Not outright, but I doubt that you will find your way out of the swamp. If you are not eaten by some wild animal, or slain by natives, drowned by quicksand, or some such malady, you may make it back to the fort alive, but not before we have long fled your reach." She smiled when she saw how pale he had become, and could not resist taunting him further. "If you do manage to return, I wonder what your superiors will do to you for allowing such a valued prisoner to escape? Perhaps you should consider leaving Guadeloupe as well."

  There was no further time to talk because at that moment the coach came to a halt and a hooded man, leading a rider less horse, awaited them.

  "You know what to do." Dominique told the newcomer. The hooded man merely nodded. "Make certain no one sees you as you take Colonel Marceau to the place we discussed."

  Again there was a nod.

  "Why do
we let him live?" Tom wanted to know, as he climbed down from the coach and yanked the Frenchman from his seat.

  "I want him to live," Dominique said, without pity for the man who was responsible for her grandfather's death and Judah's torture. "I want him to live, so that every night he can look over his shoulder in fear of retribution."

  Colonel Marceau fell to his knees and his body shook with great sobs as he reached out his hand. "Have pity, Mademoiselle Charbonneau."

  "I do not think so." She leaned close to him and whispered, "One day you will look behind you, and my brother will be there. Think about that, and be afraid, Monsieur."

  A cringing Colonel Marceau was yanked forward and thrust upon the waiting horse, his hands tied behind him.

  Dominique nodded to the hooded man, knowing it was Bartrand Dubeau. "Thank you, dear friend. Take care of yourself."

  He rode off into the night, leading a cowardly Colonel Marceau, who was still begging for mercy.

  Dominique got back in the coach and fell on her knees beside Judah. "How is he, Ethan?"

  "Malnourished, bruised, beaten. I do not detect any broken bones. Beyond that I cannot tell."

  She gently touched Judah's face. "Will he live?"

  Ethan smiled sadly, wishing he could see that kind of love in Dominique's eyes when she looked at him.

  "Have no concern—he will live. It takes more than this to kill a man as stubborn as Judah."

  She pressed her lips to a bruise on his forehead. "Yes, much more."

  22

  It was after midnight when the coach moved down an overgrown lane and pulled to a stop. Tom and Ethan helped Judah out and supported his weight while Dominique dismissed the coachman and the outriders. They had not been waiting long before a dark figure that took the shape of a man on horseback arrived, seemingly out of nowhere. He led four horses and silently handed the reins to Dominique, then departed just as quickly as he had come.

  "What now?" Ethan inquired, looking around for direction. "Judah cannot ride in his condition. One of us will have to carry him in front of us. I suggest it be you, Tom, since you are the stronger."