Dominique knew she had to leave before she began to cry. "I am more than you think I am." She rushed out of the door and walked shivering into the night air, stopping only to catch her breath. A black mist of dread engulfed her. Judah could not know how desperately she wanted to be his wife.
She was startled when she felt something soft and warm go around her shoulders and drape to her feet.
"You forgot your cloak," Judah said, tying the bow beneath her chin. "Come back with me. I will hear this bargain you propose."
30
Refusal swelled tightly in Dominique's throat, but she mutely allowed Judah to escort her back to his quarters, with his steadying hand at her elbow. Once inside, she turned to him.
"I will not marry you!"
Judah indicated that she should sit on the green leather bench against the wall, and when she complied, he sat beside her—but not too close.
"Well, Dominique," he said at last, "you must not make a hasty decision because you have not heard all you have to gain by marrying me."
"I daresay it will not be to my advantage. I am aware that you loved your wife, Mary. I will compete with no lost love of the man I marry."
"There are no ghosts that stand between us, Dominique. There never was." He reached out to her, and then his hand dropped away, and she could not know of the significance of his next words. "If Mary's ghost haunted me at one time, those feelings are now buried with her."
She wanted him to speak of love, like the love she felt for him. "The absence of feelings is no reason for me to take you as my husband, Judah."
"I am coming to that part." He stared down at his hands for a moment, and if Dominique had not known him better, she would have thought him nervous. "I am not without influence. If you were my wife, I would call on that influence and bring it to bear in locating your brother."
He had taken her completely by surprise. She had not expected this. "How much influence?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Considerable."
"I do not know how I could ever have mistaken you for a pirate. Who are you, really?"
He took her hand and turned her toward him. "My name is Judah Tarrance Gallant. I live in Boston, Massachusetts. I am a shipbuilder by trade, and I am half-owner of Gallant Shipping, along with my only relative, my brother, Jason—I already mentioned him to you. What else would you like to know about me?"
"I have seen you in many different disguises—a French captain, a pirate, and now an American captain. Who is the real Judah Gallant, and why did you masquerade as a pirate, when I know you are not?"
She saw his eyes flicker just the merest bit. "Forgive me, but I cannot discuss that with you. You will have to take my word that I am indeed considered respectable."
There was indecision in Dominique's eyes. "You can really help me find my brother?"
Judah smiled, raising her hand and brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. "Could I do worse than you have, thinking you could save him by running around pretending to be a ... strumpet?"
Suddenly laughter bubbled out of her, taking him by surprise. One of the things that endeared her to him most was her ability to laugh at inane situations. "Deception has risen between us with the solidness of a brick wall. Will we ever know one another?"
"I believe we shall," he answered. "If we give ourselves the chance." He had a few unanswered questions of his own. "Can I assume that you have no deep feelings for the man you call Philippe?"
"Philippe?" Dominique asked in surprise. "We have known each other since childhood, but he and I are not suited. We never have been, although he will not believe it."
"Is there anyone else?"
"No."
"Then pray tell me something more about yourself. I only know bits and pieces."
She was silent for a moment, then relented. "My name is Dominique Charbonneau, and I was born on the island of Guadeloupe. My brother, Valcour, and I were raised by our grandfather, Jean Louis Charbonneau. As I told you before, my father was French, my mother English. They have both been dead these many years." Her eyes misted over and she hurriedly continued. "I believe you have already guessed that Windward Plantation was our home and my grandfather died in the fire that destroyed the house."
"Tell me how he died," Judah said, sensing she needed to talk about it.
"I tried to save him." Now tears swam in her eyes. "But you see, I arrived too late. I ran in after him and the stairs collapsed beneath me. Had it not been for Bartrand Dubeau, I would also have perished in the fire."
Judah gathered her to him, feeling his own body tremble at how close he had come to losing her. "You need someone to take care of you. You certainly have not been doing very well on your own."
She blinked away her tears and was content to lie there with her head on his shoulder. She felt safe with his strong arms around her. She wanted to say yes to his proposal. But why did he want to marry her? She had to know.
Dominique drew back and looked up at him. "You want me because I satisfy you physically?"
He tried not to smile. "In part—a great part."
"Is that enough reason for two people to be joined in marriage?"
"I have heard of worse reasons." He thought of his own marriage to Mary. "Because of close family ties and because it is expected of one, for instance."
He took both her hands in his and drew her to her feet. "What do you say, Dominique? Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"
She could not speak; her throat seemed to have closed off.
His eyes were probing, seeking, as if drawing an answer from her, and she could only nod her head in acquiescence.
He looked startled. "Are you saying you will?"
Her voice was hardly audible. "Yes."
He drew her to him, and she lay her face against his shoulder.
"You will not regret it, Dominique. You need taking care of, and I intend to see that you are."
She stepped back. "You ... do not feel you are honor-bound to ... to—"
His lips dipped into a smile. "Make a virtuous woman out of you?" He shook with laughter and pulled her back in his arms. "No, my wonderful, imperious Dominique. I do not marry you out of anything nearly so noble as duty. It is mostly selfishness on my part."
This was the man she had dreamed of as a girl; the man she wanted to be with for the rest of her life; the man she loved wholeheartedly. He had once loved her— at least she thought he had. Could she win his love again?
"When will we be married?" she asked, reluctant to move out of his arms.
"Soon," he whispered, his lips brushing her neck. "Very soon, I think."
She braced her hands against his chest and looked up at him. "You have not asked what my bargain would have been."
He stepped away from her. "Forgive me. I believe you had something you wanted to offer me for your freedom and passage money home?"
"Yes. But now I give it to you as a wedding present."
He watched with interest as she bent to lift her gown and dipped her hand in the top of her boot, removing a letter.
"I believe you will be interested in this," she said, handing him the letter.
"What is it?"
"Do you know a Frenchman by the name of Charles Talleyrand?"
"Of course I do. He is Napoleon's foreign minister. At least he was when last I heard."
"The letter is from him to General Richepance. It was somehow in the possession of Colonel Marceau. Knowing his greed for intrigue, I can imagine that he obtained this by ill-gotten means."
Judah looked at the letter with mounting interest. "How did you come by it?"
"The night we rescued you from Colonel Marceau, the letter fell from his pocket and I managed to retrieve it without him knowing."
Judah's eyes slid over the page, then he glanced at Dominique as if he could not believe what he was reading.
She watched him, and the emotions that played across the handsome plane of his face.
At last, he raised hi
s eyes to her face and just stared at her.
"Is it important?" she asked.
"Important? Important! I cannot tell you what this means." He turned the letter over to look at the seal to make certain it was genuine. "I must see that this gets to the president at once."
"The ... the president of America?"
"Yes. Thomas Jefferson."
She smiled at him. "You do have important friends, Judah Gallant."
"So you won't think I boast overmuch, you should know that I am not personally acquainted with the president. My contact with him is through William York. Mr. York is Jefferson's friend."
"Will they help me find my brother?" she asked hopefully.
Judah took her in his arms and swung her around while he laughed with an abandon she had never before seen in him. "Will they help you? For this letter, they might just offer you half the kingdom!"
Suddenly, he stopped and looked at her for a long moment. "Lady mine, you are a maker of dreams." His hand brushed down her cheek to rest at her throat. "Are you real, or will you disappear from my life as quickly as you came into it?"
"I will not leave you unless you want me to," she said solemnly.
He bent his head, his lips very near hers. "That will never happen, Dominique. I fear you have agreed to a pact that will bind you forever."
When his lips curved over hers, she clung to him, her heart beating, her knees weak, and happiness swelling within her.
Judah broke off the kiss much too soon for her, and backed away from her, dropping his arms. "I must not do that again."
"But, I—"
He placed his finger to her lips. "Oh no, my little temptress. Now that you are to be my wife, I will show only the deepest respect."
She glanced through the door at his sleeping quarters.
He read her thoughts, as he had done so often. "Yes, I want you in my bed. But mostly, I want you to know the man I am and not the man you thought me to be."
She smiled. "You are not the pirate who carried me to his bed?"
"Oh lady, you do so sorely tempt me." His bold stare and flashing smile tugged at her heart. "Go now, Dominique, unless you want me to finish what you started."
She could see by his slow smile that he knew what she was feeling. She looked into stormy blue eyes and could read his thoughts as well—they made her blush.
Then he seemed hesitant, as if his mind was on another matter. "There is but one thing I will ask you, Dominique, and then we shall put the past to rest."
"You want to know if I betrayed you to Colonel Marceau?"
"Did you?"
"No. But that was my intention when I first came aboard your ship. I would have done it then, Judah. I would not have liked it, but I would have done it had I not come to ... to respect you."
"Respect? Is that all?"
"Respect is a great deal." With the swish of her gown, she moved to the door. "Good night, Captain Gallant. You certainly know how to entertain a guest. It has been a most enlightening evening." She touched her fingers to the her lips and blew him a kiss. "Most enlightening."
31
Dominique awoke to a strange sensation— something was different. She had come to know the movements of the Tempest so well, and although there was motion, it was not a forward motion.
Sleepily, she slid out of bed and went to the porthole. She could see land, a large mass of land, and they were anchored there. It must be America!
She quickly dressed and brushed her hair, tying her massive curls back with a scrap of lace.
She answered the knock at her door to find Tom standing there, smiling.
"Is that America, Tom?"
"That be her right enough. We're off the Virginia coast at Norfolk."
Since the night she had accepted his proposal, Dominique had not seen Judah except at a formal dinner, which had been held in their honor by the ship's cook.
Judah had said they would be married the moment they touched American soil, and if this was America, it must be her wedding day!
"Where is the captain?" she asked.
"Well, the cap'n and Doc Graham went ashore near sunup. That was three hours ago."
She was stung with disappointment. Apparently, Judah did not mean to take her ashore with him today. "Oh."
Tom's eyes twinkled. "I'm to escort the bride ashore. I was the cap'n's choice for that honor."
She laughed lightly as she pressed her small hand into his big one. Tom had become so dear to her, and in the absence of her brother, she would have chosen no other escort. "Then this is my wedding day, after all, Tom."
Her eyes dropped to her blue velvet gown, and she wished Judah could see her in a white gown and veil. She raised one foot and studied her scuffed brown boots. Those would be the first thing she would throw away when she had a proper pair of shoes.
"You're getting a good man, Miss Dominique," Tom told her. "The cap'n . . . well he's all right with me." His ruddy face turned red, and he looked at her adoringly. "Course he's getting the prize."
"Why, Tom, what a nice compliment."
"The cap'n talked to us—the crew—last night."
"What did he say?"
Tom led her up the companionway and across the deck. "He told us that he wouldn't be going to sea no more. Leastwise, not like ... well you know."
She smiled. "Pirating?"
"Well . . . yes. He said there'd be no more of that. And we sort of all promised him that we'd reform our ways, since he got us a pardon and all. I'm not going to disappoint the cap'n."
She was trying not to smile. "I cannot tell you how glad I am to know that."
"He—the cap'n—told all of us that we could still work for him. Be those who wanted to go to sea, or those who want to work at his shipbuilding yard. Me," he said with pride, "I'm going to work in the shipyard, overseeing kinda like. He said I was a good man."
"And so you are," she said smiling. "Will you be happy tied to the land, Tom?"
He looked serious. "I got me some money put away, and I'll have a respectable position now. It's time I found me a good woman and settled down."
Dominique linked her arm through his. "Some woman will be fortunate to have you, Tom."
He looked pleased, and his chest seemed to swell. Tom could have told Dominique that if he was a reformed man, it was more because of wanting to please her than any other reason. He knew that Dominique had no notion that she had changed many of the men who had sailed the Tempest—mostly she had changed the captain.
When the longboat reached shore, Ethan was there waiting for her. He lifted Dominique and set her on dry land. He then led her to a waiting carriage.
"Tom," Ethan told him, "the captain wants you to come with us now. Tell the others in the boat that I'll send the carriage back for them, so they might be in attendance as well." Then he turned his attention to Dominique. "I am the representative for your impatient bridegroom, and I am to escort you to the house of a friend, where you are to be married this very day."
"Not a church?"
"Judah asked me to inquire whether you would find it objectionable to be married by a ship's captain. Later, if it is your wish, you can repeat the ceremony in a church."
Dominique found it fitting that they would be married by the captain of a ship. "I thought a sea captain could only perform weddings at sea," she said in confusion.
Ethan laughed and winked at her. "You know Judah. He leaves nothing to chance. He asked for, and obtained, special authorization. Captain Fletcher will marry the two of you since he is an old friend of the family."
"If that is Judah's wish, I have no objections."
"Then let us be away," he said, handing her into the carriage and beckoning Tom inside. "We are going to a wedding."
The horses clipped along the street, while Dominique's apprehension grew. She did not see the stately homes they passed or the ship channel, where many graceful ships lay at anchor. Her mind was in a quandary. What if Judah was marrying her out of pity? She tugged at E
than's sleeve. "I have only a small mirror to assist me. How do I look?"
"Breathtaking."
"Ethan, you would tell me the truth, wouldn't you? Am I horribly scarred?"
His eyes went slowly over her face, and he felt a deep ache that she should be so unsure of herself. Then he smiled to himself. That was what made her so different from other beautiful woman. Her beauty had never been a tool for her to use on a man. He doubted that she would ever know how beautiful she really was.
Ethan was taking so long to reply that Dominique was sure he was trying to spare her feelings.
"No," he said at last, "the scars on your face have disappeared completely, and the ones on your hands are hardly noticeable. You are the least scarred woman I know. Have no fear, you will be a beautiful bride."
"Ragtag, you mean."
"As to your wardrobe, I am certain Captain Fletcher's wife will help you. She is eagerly waiting to receive you and usher you off to her rooms to do whatever women do to ready themselves for such an occasion."
The carriage had stopped before a grand house, and Ethan jumped down to assist Dominique. Her foot had hardly touched the ground when a plump, pleasant-faced woman came rushing up to her.
"My dear," her hostess said, taking Dominique's hand. "I am Tessa Fletcher. My but you are lovely. Come with me, around to the side, so the men cannot see you. This is such fun. Just think, a wedding in my house."
"Tessa," Ethan said, "this is—"
"I know, I know. Dominique something-or-other. Come, my dear, we must hurry."
Ethan gave Dominique a sympathetic shrug as the chattering little lady led her away, talking all the while and scarcely drawing a breath.
Dominique was promptly taken to the woman's dressing room, where two servants waited. She stood before a full mirror while Tessa looked her over. "The blue gown is nice, but if only it were white."
"Yes," Dominique said wistfully. "I had always thought I would be married in white."
"I have it!" Tessa cried, going down on her knees and fumbling through a trunk. "Ah ha. Here it is." She held a cream-colored brocade surcoat out for Dominique's inspection. "This was my daughter's before she was married. She was about your size. It isn't white, but perhaps it will do nicely."
Siren's Song Page 24
