My Seaswept Heart

by Christine Dorsey

  “If I ever hear ye talk about Anne like that again you’ll think the time ye spent on d’Porteau’s ship a stroll on the beach.” His knuckles tightened until Arthur struggled to get loose. “And ye have the word of Captain James MacQuaid on that.”

  “Jamie, don’t. Please.”

  Anne’s pleas finally penetrated Jamie’s fury and he dropped Arthur, sorry to see he didn’t fall on his arse when he landed. But Anne clutched at his arm, helping to steady him. Jamie didn’t think he liked Anne very much at that moment. He definitely felt the full impact of her displeasure when she looked at him.

  “I asked you both to stop.” Her voice softened. “For my sake, please.”

  Jamie fisted his fingers, and his jaw ached from clenching it, but he kept his hands to himself, though he felt the need to point out what she obviously missed. “’Tisn’t me going about calling ye names, Annie.”

  “I know that.” Her eyes flashed to Arthur, who stood trying to straighten his rumpled clothing and resurrect his dignity. “Arthur, I won’t ever forget the sacrifice you made for me. D’Porteau would have ravished me, killed me more than likely, if not for you.” Her shoulders straightened. “But that does not give you the right to say what you did. About me, or about Jamie MacQuaid.”

  “If you’re expecting an apology, don’t.” He swallowed nervously when Jamie shifted his feet. “Not that I blame you, Anne. It’s just I know what kind of man this is. And I know he has no business being on Libertia. I demand he leave immediately.”

  “No, Arthur, I—”

  “As it were, Annie. I believe ’tis finally something your cousin and I agree upon. I shall leave this island... immediately.”

  “Jamie, don’t.” Anne tried to catch his arm but he was already moving away from her toward the shore. She turned to Arthur, but there was no help there. He stood, his narrow shoulders squared, a smug expression on his thin face. “Oh!” She was so exasperated with the both of them she could hardly stand it. With Arthur for being the pompous fool she always thought he was. And with Jamie for allowing Arthur to have his way.

  Grabbing up her skirts Anne raced after Jamie, catching him just as he approached a group of men gathered on shore. They appeared curious as to what was happening between Arthur and the captain. Mort Tatum was there and Matthew Baxter, and to Anne’s relief Israel. If anyone could talk sense into Jamie it was the old pirate.

  “I’ll be leaving,” Jamie announced to the group. “It was a pleasure knowing ye and... well, I hope you’ve no more trouble from d’Porteau.”

  “Ye wants me to gather up your stuff, Cap’n?” this from Israel whom she’d hoped to solicit as an ally. Anne couldn’t believe it.

  “Thank ye, Israel.”

  “No, wait,” Anne called, but the grizzled old man was already hurrying off toward the village. So she turned to the men who in her uncle’s stead were Libertia’s leaders.

  “Surely you aren’t going to allow Captain MacQuaid to be forced off Libertia after all he’s done for us?”

  “No one be forcing me, Mistress Cornwall. I made my thoughts clear on that earlier.” His eyes held hers and Anne felt the sting of tears.

  “Yes, I know what you said, but—”

  “I mean it, Annie. ’Tis no good can come of this.”

  She was going to cry. She was going to break down and fall to her knees in front of everyone, begging him to stay if she didn’t get away. Turning on her heel she began walking toward the bank of trees to her right. She didn’t stop until she felt the gentle pressure of Jamie’s hand on her arm.

  He’d followed her, leaving the other men staring after them in bewilderment. Not caring except for what they might think of Anne after he left.

  “Anne, ye must know this is for the best.”

  She just shook her head, refusing to face him, not wanting him to see the tears wetting her cheeks.

  “Annie....” The pain in his voice seemed as genuine as her own.

  “How can it be right, when it feels so terribly wrong?”

  She heard him swallow. “I won’t touch ye, Annie. Kiss ye as I’d like.” He hesitated and when he spoke again Anne thought she heard heartbreak to match her own. “But, Annie, I have to leave ye. Please understand.”

  She did. Anne shut her eyes, letting out her breath on a deep sigh. She hated that he was leaving, but she did understand. And knowing why made everything seem all the more hopeless.

  He broke his own rules by lifting his hand and cupping her shoulder. But Anne never knew what he was going to say for at that moment Israel yelled from the pathway.

  “Got yer stuff, Cap’n, and me own.”

  It took a moment for the words to register with Jamie. Then he looked around, annoyed by the interruption... glad for it. “What are ye talking about, old man?”

  “Goin’ with ye,” Israel yelled. “I’ve got seawater runnin’ in me veins and it be time I answered its call.”

  “Take me.” Her voice was so low Anne wasn’t sure if Jamie heard her until his fingers folded over hers.

  “I love ye too much to do that to ye,” he said and then he was gone.

  Anne jerked her head around but he was already striding toward the wharf, his powerful gait eating up the distance quickly. Israel jumped into a rowboat, unlashing the oars as Jamie shoved the hull into the foaming surf... and Anne could watch no more.

  But she did make her way to the secluded beach where they’d made love and she waited for the Lost Cause to sail by. She could almost hear the song of billowing sails, feel the wind hard in her face, taste the salt, and know the freedom.

  Almost.

  ~ ~ ~

  She didn’t die of a broken heart.

  Though Anne thought that a definite possibility at the time, as the weeks went by, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. At first she wasn’t sure it was necessarily a good thing... but at times death seemed preferable to the longing that swept over her... now she was glad to be alive. Someone had to talk with Arthur, and it appeared she was the one to do it.

  Anne knocked on the door of the office that used to be hers, opening it when her cousin bid her enter. He was seated in a winged chair he had brought from Richard’s house, his feet resting on a stool, a glass of wine in his hand.

  “Yes, Anne.” He eyed her over the goblet’s rim as he took a sip of amber liquid. “What did you want?”

  He offered no seat, nor did Anne want one. She paced the length of the small room, then turned to face him. “Uncle Richard seems to be worse.”

  “Oh?” Arthur took another sip of wine. “In what way?”

  “Perhaps if you visited your father you would know.” To Anne’s surprise, Arthur had moved into a cottage left vacant by a family who’d quit the island after d’Porteau’s first raid killed their son. Arthur said at the time he needed some time to himself after the horrors of imprisonment aboard the Frenchman’s ship, and Anne had sympathized. Even without his frequent reminders that his capture had been a result of saving her.

  But now, nearly two months after his return to Libertia, after his escape from d’Porteau, Anne wondered about his reasons for ignoring his father. Actually she wondered about quite a few things regarding Arthur. Her fingers tightened around the brooch in her pocket. She barely listened as Arthur listed his excuses.

  “Besides,” he said. “I know you will come here every day with reports and recriminations.” He stretched out his legs. “What is your complaint today?”

  “You mean other than your neglect of your father?” Anne raised her chin, then continued when her cousin merely glared at her. “Actually I have several.”

  “Well, make them quickly. I am busy.”

  “Really?” Anne arched her brow. “Then perhaps you can explain why there has been nothing done about arranging for a vessel to transport our sugar cones? A meeting should have been called—”

  “For what reason?” Arthur rubbed his prominent nose. “All those gatherings to decide who does what and when, are a waste o
f time.”

  “They are one of the foundations that Libertia was built upon.” One of the cornerstones her cousin was slowly chipping away, at least according to all the citizens who came to her with complaints.

  “He makes all the decisions himself, without a by your leave,” Matthew Baxter remarked.

  “’Tis true,” Lester Perdue agreed. “Why just yesterday Arthur had Elmer Dodd thrown into jail without so much as a trial. When I questioned him about it, he told me to mind my own concerns or I’d be joining old Elmer.”

  Arthur simply shrugged his narrow shoulders now. “Perhaps we should rethink the way things are handled around here.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Now if there’s nothing else.”

  “Actually there is.” Anne took a step closer. “I mentioned your father.” She ignored the thinning of his already narrow lips. “He’s taken to roaming about. He wanders everywhere on the island seemingly unaware of his destination. Besides my concern for his safety—”

  “A lock and key might be in order.”

  “Perhaps you think we should jail him as you did Elmer?” Anne said, then hurried on. “But that isn’t the point at the moment.”

  “Then pray get on with it and leave.”

  “This morning I found Uncle Richard wandering along the beach. He was clutching this.” Anne pulled the ruby-encrusted brooch from her pocket, holding it in front of her for Arthur to see. “You do recognize it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” He fluttered his hand. “It’s yours, I believe. You really should take more care with your belongings.”

  “It hasn’t been in my care for quite a while, Arthur. Not since d’Porteau stole it, along with the rest of my mother’s jewels.” When her cousin made no comment, Anne continued. “Naturally I was curious as to where Uncle Richard found the brooch.” She paused. “He told me it was in your cottage.”

  “And you believed him. The old man is madder than a rabid dog.”

  Anne’s spine stiffened in response to Arthur’s description of her beloved uncle but she reminded herself that arguing over Richard’s condition was not her goal. “I did have my doubts, but when he led me back to your cottage and showed me—”

  “You entered my home uninvited?” Arthur yelled, jumping to his feet. “I shall have the both of you jailed for thievery.”

  “’Tis more you who should bear the name thief. Arthur, several of the jewels are hidden in your chest. My mother’s diamond necklace, the emerald ring. Where did you get them?”

  “I don’t answer to you.” He took a menacing step forward. “I don’t answer to anyone.”

  Though frightened Anne held her ground. “Tell me how my jewels came to be in your possession. Did you take them from d’Porteau when you escaped?” That had been the only logical explanation... the only explanation that put Arthur in a favorable light... that Anne had come up with. And she expected him to embrace it readily.

  But he didn’t. He simply stared at her, his pale blue eyes narrowed, his gaunt checks sucked in. “I suppose you might as well know. The secret will be out soon.”

  “What secret?” Anne did take a step toward the door now. His quiet tone, the hard expression on his face frightened her more than his explosive anger.

  “You tell me, Anne. You were always the clever one. The one my father turned to for guidance.”

  “That’s not true. He always looked toward you. Losing you was the reason his mind went.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me that.” Arthur stalked closer. “He never cared a fig for me except where I could help him with his beloved ‘Grand Experiment’. That’s all either of us ever were to him. Bodies he could use to populate this godforsaken island.”

  Anne swallowed down fear. “If you feel that way why don’t you leave?”

  “Exactly what I intend to do, my clever little cousin.” His hand snaked out, manacling Anne’s wrist. “But I’m not going empty-handed.”

  “You’re hurting me.” Anne tried to wriggle free, but he was a lot stronger than he looked. In a panic she reached through the slit in her skirt, grabbing for the knife she kept lashed to her thigh. But Arthur was quicker, knocking her aside. Anne stumbled and grasped for the arm of his chair to break her fall, but she missed. In a tumble of petticoats and skirts she fell to the planked floor.

  He was looming over her before she could scramble to her feet.

  And now he had a pistol aimed her way.

  “You know I’m rather glad you came to visit me today, Anne.” He cocked the hammer. “I suppose I have much to thank you for. If not for your penchant for taking charge, Father might actually have expected me to do something around here. And of course, I’m quite appreciative of your jewels.”

  “How did you get them?” Anne inched away from him until she felt the solid wall press into her back.

  He stepped closer. “Why I took them, of course.” He smiled benignly. “While everyone else was in a dither over d’Porteau’s visit, I simply broke into the chest where you kept them.”

  “But d’Porteau, surely he—”

  “What? Took them from me?” Arthur shook his head and laughed. “You really don’t understand yet, do you? It’s too bad Father is so mad, I’d love to show him how his doltish son outsmarted the great Mistress Anne. Outsmarted everyone else on Libertia as well.”

  He nudged the stool toward him with the toe of his silver-buckled shoes, then sat down. “You see, the Frenchman came to Libertia at my suggestion. Oh, I see I’ve shocked you.” Arthur made a “tsking” sound with his mouth sending a fine spray of saliva over his chin. “But I assure you it’s true. Our scheme was simple. And it worked like a charm.”

  “But you saved me from him.”

  “It may have appeared that way to you, but it was a mere coincidence, I assure you. One that Willet was less than pleased about. He apparently took a liking to you, Annie, and didn’t care for my interruption. But he shall forgive me I’m sure when I hand you over to him.”

  “Oh, no you won’t.” Anne pushed herself forward, barreling into her cousin and knocking him off the stool. As she scurried to her feet she heard his surprised “umph” when he hit the floor. Balling up her skirts she rushed forward. Her hand was on the latch before the pain exploded in her head.

  Then everything went black.

  ~ ~ ~

  The fog in her mind lifted slowly. At first Anne couldn’t separate the pounding on the door with that in her head. She tried to move, but it was as if her limbs were weighted. Her tongue suffered the same malady. She opened her mouth... or at least tried to... but no sound came out.

  The only function of her body that worked was her hearing. The pounding was incessant. The screams a cruel taunt. “D’Porteau is coming! D’Porteau is coming! D’Porteau is here!”

  Anne struggled to think, to do something. Until the dark veil of oblivion settled back over her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nightmares, torturous nightmares, plagued her sleep. Anne woke with a start and this time a howling roared in her ears. She opened her eyes, unable to tell if it was night or day. She lay on a bed. On her back. Her hands were tied in front of her and an experimental twitch of her legs showed they were bound as well.

  Panic seized her and Anne forced herself to lie still and take a deep breath. The nightmares hadn’t been nightmares at all, but the sting of a cruel reality.

  Her memory opened slowly like petals of a hateful flower. Finding the brooch. Confronting Arthur. His admission of guilt and his association with d’Porteau. D’Porteau. Was she still dreaming or could she hear his high-pitched, nasal voice over the keening of the wind?

  Anne concentrated on listening, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin when she recognized his hated voice. She was in the bedroom of Arthur’s cottage. Her eyes were accustomed enough to the eerie light to recognize the chest where she found her mother’s jewels. The sound of the voices... D’Porteau, her cousin, and several others she didn’t recognize... came from the parlor.

  She tried
but could not understand what they said, that is until the door slammed open and Arthur and d’Porteau stepped into the room.

  “All, there is our little flower.” D’Porteau leaned over her, his oily black curls grazing her cheek. “Awake at last.” He chuckled at Anne’s futile struggles, then turned toward Arthur, who stood beside him. “I’d begun to fear you’d given her too much laudanum.”

  “What difference does it make? I don’t like the idea of tarrying here.”

  D’Porteau shrugged. “You worry too much, mon ami. There is nothing these cowardly villagers can do now. You saw the way they practically welcomed me with open arms.”

  Arthur stopped his pacing. “Don’t forget that was my doing.”

  “Non, non, do not fear. I shall remember it was you who told them all was lost and their best chance was to surrender.”

  “It saved you a fight,” Arthur said with a nod of his head.

  “One I would have won.” D’Porteau lifted a black velvet-draped shoulder. “But oui, you are correct.” He turned his attention back toward Anne, tracing beringed fingers down the center of her chest, smiling when she tried to shrink away. “Besides, there is nothing we can do in this weather, but allow ourselves a bit of pleasure.”

  The smacking of something against the outside wall of the cottage caught d’Porteau and Arthur’s notice. Anne’s cousin moved to the shuttered window and tried to peer out between the louvers. “This isn’t some little storm,” he said, twisting around toward d’Porteau. Seeing the other’s eyes focused back on the woman on the bed, he gave a deep sigh.

  “Take her and be done with it, by God.”

  D’Porteau’s laugh was as nasal as his voice. “Ah, but that would ruin the anticipation.” He caught Anne’s eye. “For the both of us.” Then with an evil sneer he turned and pranced from the room, his stout body balancing tenuously on the high-heeled shoes.

  Arthur stepped to the side of the bed and looked down at Anne, his expression full of contempt. Then he, too, left her alone.

  As soon as the door latched behind them Anne spread her hands as wide as the constricting rope would allow and clutched fabric. Slowly she pulled upward, bunching her skirt and petticoat, revealing an inch of ankle. Again and again she repeated her movements, trying to hurry, ignoring the pain as the rope tore into the skin of her wrists.