Angry at his pompous displeasure, she slipped out of his grasp. "I want you to leave—now."
He set his jaw in a severe line, his eyes sparking with fury. "I am not leaving without you."
Judah stepped into the open, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes riveted on the man. He spoke in flawless French. "The lady says she wants you to leave. If I were you, I'd listen to her."
"Who the hell are you?" Philippe asked.
Judah sneered at the man, still believing him to be Valcour, whom Dominique had spoken of so lovingly. It was difficult for him to see anything to admire in this man. "Just think of me as someone who is intervening on the lady's behalf."
Philippe felt unbridled rage as he looked at the stranger, his eyes going to the cabin and then back at Dominique with understanding. "The two of you spent the night together." It was not a question, but an angry statement.
Telltale color stained Dominique's cheeks. Still, she raised her head and met Philippe's eyes unflinchingly. "What I do does not concern you."
Philippe took a step closer to her, and there was genuine love in his glance. "But you have been hurt. Bartrand told me you are still unwell. You should be in bed, where someone can see to your health."
Judah jerked his head around and looked at Dominique closely. If she was ill, she had hidden it from him.
"Come home with me," Philippe pleaded.
"No. I will not endanger you and your family. You know I have powerful enemies, and if you help me, they will become your enemies as well."
"No one will find you. I will keep you safe."
She shook her head, wanting him to leave. "Go now, if not for your sake, then for mine. You are a danger to me by just being here. Anyone could have followed you here."
"What will you do?" Philippe asked in defeat.
"It is best that you do not know. That way, if you are questioned, you can be truthful when you deny any knowledge of my whereabouts."
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I will wait for the day when you return." There was questioning in his expression. "You will return?"
She felt a rush of affection for Philippe. After all, he only wanted to help her. "Yes, of course." She gently kissed him on the lips.
Philippe touched her face, raising it to the thin light. "Dear God, what has happened to your face?"
She ducked her head, feeling ashamed of her appearance. "I was burned, remember?"
Philippe shook his head. "Do you think that matters to me?"
"Please go. Now is not the time to speak of this," Dominique begged Philippe.
He nodded grimly, and turned to his horse that was tied nearby.
His eyes were soft as they swept her face. "Are you safe with this man?"
"Oui."
Philippe mounted his horse and stared at her for a long moment. "I'll go, but it isn't finished between us."
She watched him ride away and resisted the urge to call him back. With him went her last tie with her old life. Philippe belonged to the past that she could never recapture—and she felt he knew it as well.
She was startled when Judah spun her around and looked closely at her face. Beaded drops of rain ran down her cheek and he could clearly see scars there. In agony, he shook his head. "Why did you not tell me that you had been hurt?"
"It matters but little."
Softly, like a lover, he traced one white scar across her forehead. "What happened?"
"I cannot talk about it. Please do not ask me any more questions."
"Valcour knows what happened."
She looked at him in puzzlement. "Valcour?"
"The man who just left."
Laughter bubbled up inside her. "Judah, that was not Valcour. That was Philippe Laurent."
"He's in love with you."
"He will get over it." She walked toward the cabin. "The hour grows late. We should leave at once."
He caught up with her. "Not until you tell me what happened to your face."
She merely shrugged. "I played with fire and got burned."
At that moment, there was the sound of riders approaching, and Judah pushed Dominique between the cabin and a row of flowering shrubs. They both waited tensely until they saw Bartrand leading two horses. He quickly dismounted and hurried toward the cabin.
Dominique ran to him. "I did not expect you until this afternoon."
"You must leave now," he said, pushing her toward a horse. "I am only minutes ahead of Colonel Marceau's troops!"
She dashed into the cabin and picked up her pack, throwing it across her shoulder. Then she quickly went outside to find Judah already mounted.
"Leave by the fields," Bartrand told them. "I shall make sure that you left nothing suspicious behind in the cabin, then I will try to draw the soldiers in a different direction."
His words struck terror in Dominique's heart, not for herself but for Judah. She tried to hide her panic and the need to flee. "What of Colonel Marceau?"
"He has incurred the governor's displeasure, as you might guess. General Richepance has given him another chance, however, and that is to capture you and the captain."
When they were ready to ride away, Bartrand grabbed Dominique's reins and spoke to her hurriedly. "After you see the captain safely on board his ship, go to my lodge. I have made plans to get you off the island. If the French find you, it will mean your death."
She nodded. "I understand. Please be careful Bartrand; you know the kind of man Colonel Marceau is."
"I can take care of myself, and you do the same."
Judah turned to the older man. "Why should Dominique be in danger? Is it because she has helped me?"
There was resentment in Bartrand's eyes as he gazed upon the man he blamed for Dominique's troubles. "Yes, because of you. Now go! The sooner she is free of you, the sooner I can protect her."
Judah was still not satisfied. "How do I know you can keep her safe?"
"You don't, and neither do I. Much in life is left to chance."
"Then let us be gone," Judah told Dominique. Already a plan was forming in his mind. He would leave nothing to chance as far as her safety was concerned.
They rode across rows of sugarcane rotting in the fields, past rusting sugar mills, and across a shallow, but wide river. On they galloped, and Dominique would often glance behind them to see if they were being followed.
It was raining harder, but they did not slacken their pace. Dominique silently thanked Bartrand for providing them with what she knew was his best horseflesh.
After a while, they left the fields behind and entered a forest thick with foliage, but there was a clear-cut path they followed.
When they reached a clearing, Dominique motioned that they should stop. "The horses need a rest," she said, dismounting.
When she loosened the girth on her mount and led him to a clear pool to drink, she glanced at Judah. "We should let them graze for a short time."
He was strangely silent and merely nodded as he led his horse to the water.
"Judah, I am sorry that we had to leave so quickly and I picked up the wrong bag. I'm afraid we do not have any food, and in your weakened condition, you still need nourishment."
He whirled on her. "Damn it, Dominique—stop it!"
She looked bewildered. "What—"
"Stop coddling me." He came to her in two strides and gripped her hands. "Do you think I am addled-brained that I do not know you are hurt yourself, that you need nourishment as well, that you need someone to care for you?"
"No, I—"
Judah took her face between his hands, his eyes moving over the scars that Philippe Laurent had brought to his attention. "Tell me what happened."
Dominique nervously licked her lips, afraid that he found her hideous. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm.
Judah bent his head, and his mouth softly traced each scar. "Little siren, what have they done to you?"
It took all her strength to turn from him. "Please do not ask me any questions
, for I will not tell you." She went to her horse and led him away from the water to a patch of grass.
Judah followed her, unwilling to let the subject lie. "Why must everything always be so secret with you? You have me gnashing my teeth in frustration."
"After today, you can put me from your mind," she reminded him.
"I don't think so." He lowered his hands. "Tell me about the danger Bartrand spoke of."
"I will not discuss this with you, Judah."
"No matter. I shall make certain you are safe before I leave this cursed island."
She laughed softly. "I do not believe that will be possible. The sooner you are gone, the safer I will be."
After a while, they mounted their horses and continued through the tropical forest. The sun was going down when they finally reached the sea. The sand was black on this side of the island, and huge cliffs made it almost impassable, but for the trail Dominique had brought them across.
She dismounted and began stacking driftwood on the beach. She was so engrossed in her own actions that she did not notice that Judah had unsaddled the horses and removed their bridles, tossing them upon the sand.
By now, it was dark, and she proceeded to light the dried wood.
"All we have to do is wait," she told Judah. "It would be best if we stayed away from the fire. I do not think we have been followed, but it is wise to take every precaution."
He was staring out at the sea, and she wondered if he was feeling the same soul-wrenching sadness that she felt because of their parting.
"I have to admit that you are the most capable woman I have ever met. Whether it's swimming to a ship in the middle of the night, manning a cannon, or riding through a swamp. If there is another like you, I have yet to meet her. Is there no end to your daring, Dominique?"
"I am not very brave, Judah," she said, letting out a soft sigh. "There have been many times of late when I have been frightened beyond reason."
"Even the bravest heart knows when to fear. But fear did not stop you, did it?"
"Shh," she said, straining her eyes in the darkness. "Did you hear something?"
Judah listened for a moment, and then he nodded. "I hear the sound of oars. Someone is coming."
Soon they both heard a boat cutting through the waves, and Tom's voice called out as the boat touched the shore.
"You here, Cap'n?"
28
Dominique turned to Judah, and there was relief as well as sadness in her voice. "You are safe now—you must go."
Deep wrenching loneliness coiled inside him at the thought of parting with Dominique. And how could he leave her behind, knowing that she was in danger?
With a suddenness that startled her, he scooped her up in his arms and held her against him. "You are coming with me."
She looked at him in bewilderment. "What are you saying? I cannot go with you."
"I will not abandon you to the mercy of your enemies. How could you think I would?"
"But if I leave, then Valcour will not know where to find me when he returns," Dominique protested.
Judah's face was masked by darkness, but she could feel his displeasure. "Your Valcour has not done much to protect you until now. You are coming with me, and I will hear nothing more about it."
Tom had come ashore, along with six other crewmembers, and he ambled up to them, looking from one to the other. "Dominique. Cap'n," he said with a vast smile. "We feared we'd never see you again."
Judah waded toward the boat, while Dominique wriggled in his arms, trying to get down.
"Let me go!" she demanded.
He glanced down at her with a dark look. "Damn it, Dominique, be still! I'm stronger than you are, so don't fight me."
"But—"
As he stepped into the longboat, he tightened his hold on her, knowing that she night bolt if she got the chance. "Put out the fire and take us to the ship, Tom," he ordered.
If Tom thought the captain was acting strangely since he carried a reluctant Dominique, he did not show it. Those two were oft times at odds. "Aye, Cap'n."
Only when they were a safe distance from shore did Judah loosen his hold on Dominique. She wanted to tell him that his actions were outrageous, but she could not do that with his crew listening. However, by the stiffness of her body, she managed to convey her displeasure to him, all the same.
Dominique could feel Judah's implacable attitude, and it only made her angrier. How dare he take it upon himself to force her from her home? She could not wait to vent her anger on him.
Judah laughed softly as the small craft cut its way through the cresting waves. "I know what you are feeling." He pressed her against him. "I am sure you will tell me all about it when we are alone."
She said nothing, but merely rested her chin on her hand. Oh yes, she had plenty to say to Judah Gallant.
Tom bent down beside her. "You all right, Miss Dominique?" he asked with concern. "I been worried about you."
"I am fine." She saw no reason to drag poor Tom into her quarrel with Judah. While he admired his captain, she had little doubt that he would quickly take her part, and might even try to help her get back to Guadeloupe.
The crusty seaman plied his oars, knowing that something not right here, but he could not think what it was.
At last, out of the darkness, like a ghost ship, loomed the Tempest. There were no lights on deck save one small lantern that had guided the oarsmen to her.
Judah lifted Dominique in his arms and climbed the rope ladder. He set her on deck and called out orders.
"Raise sails and catch the wind, Cornelius. I want to be away from here before day breaks."
"Aye, Captain," came the sound of a familiar voice.
In spite of her anger, Dominique felt like she had come home.
There was the sound of scampering feet as every man knew his job and rushed to do it.
"Tom," Judah said, as he moved hurriedly toward the quarterdeck, "escort Miss Charbonneau to her cabin and then find the doctor straight away and send him to me."
"Aye, Cap'n."
It was dark, so Tom took Dominique's hand and led her down the companionway to the cabin she had occupied before she shared Judah's—and that suited her just fine.
"I'm glad you made it back safely," he said.
She realized that Tom must have expected her to return to the Tempest. "Thank you, Tom."
"Sorry I can't light your lantern 'til the cap'n says so."
"I will be fine, Tom."
He hesitated at the door. "I'm right glad you're here."
"Good night, Tom."
She heard him close the door behind him and lay back on the bunk, feeling heartsick. What would
Valcour do when he returned and found Windward burned, their grandfather dead, and her gone? Then there was Bartrand—he would not know what had happened to her, and would worry unnecessarily.
She felt the ship catch the wind and it seemed to glide upon each crested wave. The Tempest was under way, and a part of her was glad to be on board.
Ethan entered Judah's quarters. A lone candle gave off the only light. He set his medical bag down on the desk and grinned at his friend. "Thank God you are safely on board. After we left, I wished I had insisted on remaining with you."
"You need not have worried. Dominique was most capable."
"I am sorry I didn't get to say good-bye to her. She is an exceptional woman."
"You'll get your chance, she's on board the Tempest."
"What!?" Ethan said with amazement. "How did you manage that? 1 had the feeling she wanted to remain on Guadeloupe."
"I took that decision out of her hands."
"I see." There was unspoken accusation in Ethan's voice. "Remove your shirt; I want to examine your wounds."
Judah went to his desk and sat down, feeling bone-weary. "Do not worry about me. I want you to examine Dominique. I believe she has burn injuries, but I have no idea how severe they are."
"I know about her burns. I saw them for myself."
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"Did she tell you what happened?"
"No. But I have never admired a woman as much as I admire her. She has troubles, Judah. I don't know what they are, but they were bad enough to make her stow away on this ship."
Judah could not help the jealousy that took possession of him. "Perhaps you should be her champion."
Ethan looked at his friend's dark scowl. He had known Judah long enough to guess what he was thinking and feeling. "Don't think I would not take her in a moment if she cared for me. She does not. We both know it's you she loves."
Judah hung his head for a moment, and then when he glanced up at Ethan, there was misery in his eyes. "You are mistaken, Doctor. Dominique loves a man named Valcour. She admitted as much to me. Hell, there was even a man named . . . Philippe. It seems he loves her, too. The men seem to flock to her like insects to a bright light."
"Ah well, not you, though."
Judah glared at him, but said nothing.
"Why have you brought her on board the Tempest, Judah?"
"Because she was in danger on Guadeloupe." He stood up and began pacing back and forth. "Damn it, she refuses to tell me anything."
Ethan's voice took on a serious tone. "What are your plans for her?"
"I have no plans. For the moment, it is enough to know that she's safe."
"Where does the Tempest sail?"
"Home, to Boston."
Ethan lifted his medical bag and walked to the door. "I will report back to you after I have examined Dominique. Then I will dress your wounds."
"I will be waiting to hear about her condition."
Ethan moved carefully across the deck, picking his way through the darkened shadows. He still felt that Judah and Dominique were meant to be together, no matter that there was a man somewhere called Valcour. He had observed Dominique when she saw how badly Judah had been tortured by Colonel Marceau. She had looked at him the way a woman looks at the man she loves.
He rapped lightly on Dominique's door and heard her voice bid him enter. The cabin was in shadows, and she called to him.
"Is that you, Tom?"
"It's me, Ethan."
Suddenly, she threw her arms around him. "I knew you would come. Oh Ethan, I am so worried about Judah. Have you examined him? Is he all right? Is he in pain?"
Siren's Song Page 22
