Signs of Love and Deliverance

by Tracy Kay

  “What are you going to shop for?” André dusted the counter with flour and continued kneading the dough.

  “Something to take back for my sister and brothers.”

  “The Perion Gift Shop in town has nice things. You should try there,” he suggested as he placed a cloth over the dough to rise.

  Madeline was about to ask more about the shop when an out of breath Pete rushed into the galley, interrupting the conversation. “André, you won’t believe the threat the Capt’n got. Flint said he was goin’ to chop ‘em up and feed ‘em to the fishes.” He leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath from his short run to the galley and his excitement.

  “This is not a good time, Pete,” André admonished, signaling to an alarmed Madeline who was now standing.

  Straightening, Pete turned bright red, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake. He was always putting his foot into it. “I’m sorry, me lady, I didn’t see ya there.”

  Waving his apology away, Madeline inquired, “Flint threatened Damon?”

  “Yeah, but he does it all the time. It be nothin’ to worry about.” Pete tried to make light of the threat to ease Madeline’s concern.

  “Nothing to worry about?” Madeline repeated indignantly. “A man who happens to be an enemy of Damon’s threatens his life and it is nothing to worry about?”

  “Please, me lady, don’t tell the Capt’n that I told ya. I’d get in big trouble.”

  Madeline placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pete, I won’t say a word.”

  “Madeline, what are you planning?” André questioned suspiciously. He was beginning to recognize that scheming gleam in Madeline’s eyes.

  “I am going shopping, for now.” She blinked at him innocently and strolled out of the room.

  André grimaced. “She is planning something. I know I am not going to like it and neither will the Captain.”

  “Ya want me to follow her,” Pete offered, a little confused at what she could possibly do.

  “No, she is going shopping with the Captain, but I think we will need to keep a close eye on her when they return.” André ran a flour dusted hand through his hair in aggravation.

  “Why worry?” Pete shrugged his shoulders.

  André frowned. “It is not her shopping excursion I am worried about, Pete. It is the excursion I don’t know about that has me worried.”

  After a leisurely mid-day meal at one of the local eateries, Damon, Tylib, and Madeline were strolling down the crowded street window shopping. Madeline was overjoyed to be on land again. She liked the sea, honestly, she did, but she much preferred the stable ground beneath her feet. She breathed in a deep breath of salt air, earth, and the smells of fresh fruit and bread being sold on the street they walked down. Madeline couldn’t help but look all around her at the many hawkers selling their goods along the street. The natives were all dressed in simple clothing of whites and bright colors, scurrying here and there to their multitude of destinations. The gentry from nearby plantations walked by, doing their best not to rub elbows with the natives, and nodding minimally at the other pedestrians of similar social status.

  Madeline stopped in front of a window and grabbed Damon’s hand. “Oh, Damon, look.” She pointed at a crystal swan through the windowpane. “Deirdre would love that. She collects the things, don’t you know.”

  Damon smiled patiently at her. “Then we will have to get it for her.”

  “Oh, yes, please. I want to go in.” Madeline tugged at his arm, heading for the entrance of the shop.

  “Damon Spencer, you old sea dog, you.”

  Damon stopped at his name and turned to see a beautiful, tall woman approach them with long purposeful strides. Madeline frowned.

  “Do you know I have been chasing you through this town all afternoon?” The woman came to stand before him. “Well, are you going to hug me or not?” She pouted.

  Damon chuckled. “Chameleon, where the hell have you been?” Damon embraced her with a bear hug, reluctant to let her go.

  “Here and there.” Laughing, Chameleon tried pulling away with little luck. “Damon, you are strangling me,” she yelped in a muffled voice.

  Setting her away from him, Damon took her in. She wore close fitting, black pants, and a loose, flowing, red blouse. She had eyes that sparkled blue, but Damon knew her eye color could change as quickly as her mood. She had hair that was an indescribable color. One minute he would swear it was blond, the next auburn, and then brunette. A pistol tucked in her pants, a sword at her hip, and a rifle slung over her shoulder ready at hand, Chameleon was always prepared to fight and it showed.

  “You look good,” Damon grinned, examining her appearance closely. It had been over a year since he had seen her and he had been worried.

  “As do you,” Chameleon gasped, catching her breath before turning to Tylib and opening her arms wide. “Tylib Ezro, you beautiful man, you, give me hug.”

  Obediently, Tylib gave her a light hug, careful not to harm her. “You are the beautiful one, Chameleon.”

  “You are too kind.” Changing her focus to Madeline, she beamed with excitement. “And who is this stunning creature?”

  “Chameleon, this is Madeline Cathcart,” Damon introduced.

  “Madeline!” Chameleon exclaimed, taking Madeline’s hands in hers. “Cat’s little sister. I didn’t know you were so gorgeous. I need to have a talk with that brother of yours about hiding away such a beautiful sister.” Taking a breath, Chameleon continued, “As Damon said, luv, I am Chameleon. I am another one of Conrad Morgan’s brats. Think of me as a big sister. We can share Cat’s secrets.” She winked with a wide smile.

  Stunned, Madeline was at a loss for words, a first for her. “Well . . . I . . . it is a pleasure to meet you, Chameleon.”

  “Call me Chammy, everyone does,” she grinned with a wave of her hand.

  “Madeline, why don’t you and Tylib go buy that figurine for Deirdre,” Damon suggested.

  “Yes, I would like . . . to get that for her.” Madeline mumbled, a little confused and wondering what the flamboyant woman was to Damon. She took Tylib’s proffered arm and allowed him to escort her into the shop, leaving Chameleon and Damon behind in the street.

  “I didn’t expect you here, Cham.”

  “I had a feeling and followed it,” she proclaimed, taking his hands in hers. “It is dangerous here for you, Damon.”

  “I know,” Damon agreed. “Flint is here and I have been followed ever since I left London. I believe it is Farrington.”

  “Farrington? I should have known. But why is he following you?”

  “He is not following me. He is following Madeline,” he clarified.

  “Why?” She curled her lip in puzzlement.

  “She shot him as he was killing her friend. It is a long story. Why don’t we finish it later?” Damon suggested as Madeline and Tylib came out of the shop.

  “Over drinks. My ship. Five o’clock. Don’t be late,” Chameleon ordered before kissing him on the cheek. “Madeline, it was a joy meeting you. Tylib, a pleasure as always.” She smiled radiantly, kissing both Madeline and Tylib on the cheek before melting into the crowd.

  “She is quite a . . . a . . . flamboyant person,” Madeline stammered.

  Damon smiled softly with affection. “She is at that.”

  “You are meeting her tonight?” Madeline inquired. Not wanting to think what this woman meant to Damon at the moment, she chose to think of something else. While Chameleon was plying Damon with drink and reminiscing about old times, she would have time to meet with Flint.

  “We have some things to discuss, yes.” Damon grinned at Madeline, knowing she was attempting to hide her jealously with little success. He decided to tell her the truth rather than make her worry. “Chameleon and I are family, Madeline, not lovers.” Taking her elbow, he propelled her down the street to the next shop. “Let us finish your shopping, shall we?”

  “I have only one more shop I want to visit, the
Penion Gift Shop. André said it has nice things.” They headed down the street with Damon making small talk, while Madeline planned on how to set up a meeting with Flint and slipping off the ship unnoticed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I knew it. She is up to something,” André exclaimed as he and Pete watched Madeline slip off the Wayward Wind, unnoticed by anyone but them.

  “She’s good at sneakin’ and all decked out to,” Pete observed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Come on.” André grabbed Pete’s arm and hauled him out of their hiding spot behind a stack of crates on the dock. “We should follow her. I don’t want her getting into any trouble she can’t handle,” André said as he followed her into the crowded street.

  André watched Madeline enter a restaurant and take a seat in the middle of the room. He and Pete crouched down between two buildings across the street which allowed them to observe her through the building’s window. A short while later, they saw Captain Flint enter the tavern and take the empty seat opposite hers.

  “She’s meetin’ Flint?” Pete gasped with astonishment.

  André sighed. “Why am I not surprised? She seems to think she is invincible,” he mumbled.

  “She’s betrayin’ the Capt’n!”

  André raised his chin. “No, she isn’t. I don’t know what she is up to, but I do know she would not betray the Captain. She loves him.

  “What’re we goin’ to do?” Pete took his dirty, white cap off his head and scratched at his dirty, blond hair.

  “Nothing,” André shrugged.

  “We have to tell the Capt’n,” Pete said, turning to leave.

  André caught his arm. “No. Madeline trusts me and I won’t break that trust unless I have to. We will let her have her meeting with Flint and make sure she gets back to the ship safely. If she gets into danger she can’t handle, I will step in and then you can go for the Captain.”

  “You think she knows what she’s doin’?”

  “Mon ami, there is a lot more to Madeline Cathcart than a pretty face.” André watched Madeline curiously. “I would not want to be her enemy. I feel very fortunate that she is on my side and I want to keep it that way.”

  This is a simple meeting. That is all. Madeline thought nervously as she waited for Captain Flint’s arrival. It had been easy slipping away from the ship undetected. Most of the crew were off carousing or occupied with the ship’s repairs, and Damon was off chatting with Chameleon while Tylib was catching up on his sleep. She had planned it well. When they returned to the ship, Madeline made a big production about a small crack in the crystal swan and she insisted on returning it herself. Damon had refused to allow her to go alone, but had relented and sent Tylib with her as an escort. She had him wait outside the shop as she went in and generously paid the shopkeeper to send a message to Captain Flint to meet her at the restaurant she, Damon and Tylib had been to earlier that day. After the shopkeeper had rewrapped the package for a small fee and a little extra to keep the exchange quiet, Madeline and Tylib returned to the ship with none the wiser.

  Presently, quarter past five, she sat waiting for Captain Flint, praying he would show, and that Damon was true to his word when he said he would not return until the dinner hour, around eight. Madeline tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. He was late and she was becoming more irritated by the moment, which was a good thing because she was quickly losing her nervousness and replacing it with anger. She did not like waiting for people.

  “More tea, my lady,” the serving girl asked.

  “No, thank you.” Madeline waved the girl away with an air of superiority that only a duke’s daughter would have as she watched a slovenly man enter the restaurant. He was short and fat with greasy, graying hair and wore old, dirty clothing. The man was repugnant and Madeline knew instinctively that he was Captain Flint. She watched him as the hostess led him to her table. Madeline took a sip of her tea, and allowed a long pause to pass before gesturing to the chair across from her, purposefully staying seated and refusing to give him any respect.

  “Please be seated, Captain Flint. It was good of you to meet me on such short notice,” she said haughtily, ignoring his outstretched hand. A woman of her station did not shake hands with someone so beneath her. It simply was not done. In any case, she found him revolting and she had no intentions of touching the man.

  “What’s this about . . . Madeline?” Captain Flint said, deliberately using her given name as he took his seat. He was aggravated she hadn’t taken his hand.

  After the server poured him the cup of tea Madeline had ordered, she corrected him. “Lady Madeline.” She took a sip of her tea and studied him over the rim of her cup for a moment, causing the man some discomfort. Finally, she got to the point. “I wish you to leave Captain Spencer alone. I believe you have caused him enough worry for one life time.”

  Flint snickered. “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Because I am telling you to Captain Flint, and you don’t want to cross me, honestly, you don’t,” Madeline warned arrogantly.

  “Why do you care about Spencer?” He curled his lip, lewdly sweeping his eyes over her form.

  “Captain Spencer happens to be my future husband,” she lied, the only lie she would give the man.

  “If you are to marry him, you are no lady,” he smirked, rubbing at his red, bulbous nose.

  Hiding her revulsion, Madeline smiled sweetly in return. “Captain Flint, I am a lady, a very powerful one at that, and I do not appreciate your insult.”

  Flint leered at her, not believing she was a lady or that she could do him harm. “And what could a mere woman do to me?”

  Madeline leaned forward and narrowed her glittering, green eyes. “This mere woman, Captain Flint, can end you.”

  Taking the bait, he sniggered. “And how’s that?”

  Madeline leaned back in her seat, wrinkling her nose from the stench coming off Flint. Not losing her composure, she said, “I can ensure that you will never sell another slave again, anywhere.” She stared blandly at his disbelieving face. “You see, Captain Flint, I know many of the more . . . powerful families in the Americas and in the West Indies. Many of which are plantation owners and some who have political power, people who could make your business very unprofitable. Families like the Stockertons, the Weatherbys, the Reynalds, and the Deveareaus. I can name more if you like, but I don’t think that is necessary. I don’t believe you want me to have a chat with these families or the authorities, now do you?” She smugly raised one sculpted, blond eyebrow.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said indignantly, rubbing at his nose again.

  “Oh, but you should, Captain Flint, because not only can I keep you from selling your slaves, I can keep you from trading for them or buying them from West Africa.

  “Impossible.” He tapped his finger on the table. The stupid girl actually thought he believed her lies.

  “Is it?” Madeline took a sip of her tea, allowing a long pause before she proved that she was, indeed, powerful enough to put him out of business. “You see, Captain, I know one particularly powerful man in West Africa named Monsieur Jean Tabot, and before you know it, voíla,” Madeline raised her wrist and waved her hand flippantly in front of him before lowering it to wrap her fingers around her teacup. “Monsieur Tabot has kept you from docking in any port on the coast of West Africa. I do believe that is where you acquire the majority of your . . . cargo.” Madeline smiled sweetly. “Unless you wish to have your despicable business come to a quick end, you will leave Damon Spencer in peace. Do we have an understanding, Captain Flint?”

  “Yes,” Flint gritted out between his teeth. He knew Tabot and avoided the powerful man as much as possible. He was a very influential Frenchman in West Africa, and if he didn’t want a ship docking in West Africa, it wouldn’t. If Lady Madeline knew him, she could have him destroyed. Perhaps there was more to this woman than he thought. After all, she knew the names of some powerful families, not that they
would ever do business directly with him, but they could make things difficult for him.

  “Good.” Madeline stood, placing a hand on the table. She stared at him for one long moment, noticing his nervous movements and knew her point was made. “Because I will not give you a second warning. Good day, Captain.” Madeline regally departed the restaurant, leaving the man to think about her words.

  Flint seethed in anger. How dare that woman threaten him? If she thought she could frighten him, she was mistaken. He still intended on killing Damon Spencer, and now, he would have the added pleasure of hurting her. He would use her like the lying whore she was, and when he was done with her, he would give her to his crew. She wouldn’t be lying about how powerful she was then. He didn’t believe for a minute that she was a lady or knew any of the people she mentioned. Anyone could find out the names of powerful families, but her actually knowing them, that was highly unlikely. Flint convinced himself she was lying. She may know Tabot, but most likely not. Anyone could learn the names of prominent people, anyone. As a plan formulated, Captain Flint smirked in self-satisfaction.

  Madeline sighed in relief when she left the restaurant. She was glad that was over. She only hoped that her warning was enough because she didn’t relish contacting Tabot or any of the families she knew. Even though Tabot owed her a favor, a big one at that, she didn’t want to deal with the man. Two years ago she had helped his son get readmitted to his school after being expelled, not an easy feat since the boy had gotten the dean’s daughter pregnant. It was not something she was proud of and she would never have done it if Tabot’s son hadn’t been a friend of Jared’s. Jared had begged her to help his friend and she couldn’t say no despite her misgivings. Tabot had promised to return the favor someday. He was quite dangerous and she was afraid that he dealt with many illegal enterprises, but she would contact him if she must. He would never turn her down.

  The families were easier to handle, and with only her request, they would do as she asked. Many of the families had connections in England, and over the years, Madeline had met many of them. She had no doubt that the families would be willing to assist her, being as she had such influence and power in London’s society. With their help, Flint wouldn’t be able to make a profit off his slave cargo.