by Tina Donahue
Tristan’s face flooded with what looked to be love, but he didn’t answer.
She stroked his newly shaved cheek. “Please tell me.”
“Very well. But keep the razor from me while I do.”
Her stomach rolled. If he worried about her reaction, what he had to say must be dreadful. “What did the bloody bastard do to my brother?”
“Diana, I insist you remain calm.”
She squeezed the razor handle, nails digging into her palm. “I shall. But give me the truth on Bishop. Tell me everything.”
Tristan watched the blade. “Most mariners know he coaxes or kidnaps young boys to his side, then supplies them to captains who command his ships.”
“He coaxes? He kidnaps? Why? To avoid paying the boys’ wages?”
Tristan glanced past.
“Tell me.”
“What he does involves more than money. Voyages are long, wives and lovers missed, women aren’t allowed to work on ships so captains seek to ease their needs with—”
“My God. Are you saying Peter was—”
“No, I’m not saying anything of the kind. Although it was Bishop’s plan, Peter refused to let anyone use him in such a vile manner, even after the captain had him lashed, then held in irons. He was lucky. Many boys don’t survive.”
She tried to comprehend such an evil scheme, her and Peter falling into Bishop’s hands. They would still be there if not for Tristan. “Peter survived because you saved him.”
“I took the ship he was on. The boy chose to come with me.”
“Damn you, Tristan, you saved my brother, admit it.”
“It’s best you be careful with that.” The razor nearly touched his chest.
She laughed, then cried. “Admit it.”
“Yes, I saved Peter and would do it again, for him or any other boy.”
Diana threw her arms around him. “Thank you.” She kissed his ear, temple, cheek. “You’re a wonder and a true man, my dangerous angel.”
“Your what?”
She blinked back tears and eased away. The lather she’d put on his chin and throat now clung to her neck and shoulder. “My dangerous angel.” She wiped her nose with her finger. “You’re quite beautiful, you know.”
Tristan pushed back in the chair. “I hardly know such a thing.”
“You are. Was your captain’s foul plan the reason he lashed you? You received those injuries when you were a boy because you also resisted?”
“No. Peter’s story isn’t mine, and you’ve surely had enough history for one day. Come now, shave me. I have work to do teaching you French along with seeing to the animals and land.”
“Can I embrace you before I continue?”
He smiled. “I believe I can allow that.”
She held him tenderly. Not only had he rescued Peter, he’d saved her too. Diana loved him so much she couldn’t keep her feelings hidden any longer and needed to tell him what was in her heart.
Something blue flashed near the window.
Startled, she regarded the heavy foliage and the sea.
The same blue fluttered. Canela wore the silk gown, her face stony, filled with unmasked hatred.
“What is it?” Tristan rubbed her back. “You’ve gone quite stiff.”
She tried to relax but couldn’t.
“Diana, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
If she told him about Canela, matters would only escalate. Embracing him, Diana let Canela know Tristan was no longer free.
* * * *
James’s face flushed deep red. He seemed ready to burst.
Tristan wished he hadn’t asked the man to accompany him to check on the crops and animals. “I know you want to laugh. Get on with it.”
James howled so loudly, his and Tristan’s geldings crab-walked at the unexpected noise.
Tristan prodded his mount to the rise. An impressive head of cattle grazed below. Farmland stretched to the cliffs. Scores of rice paddies lay to the right. This season they’d have an excellent yield. Coupled with the fruit and other crops grown here, there would be plenty to eat. Come this time next year he hoped to have another mouth to feed. A son or perhaps a daughter. He beamed at the thought of a little girl who might look like Diana.
James couldn’t stop laughing. “Tell me, are you going to allow your wife to shave you again?”
There were cuts on both cheeks and his chin, not to mention several bristly spots Diana had missed completely. She’d promised to be better at the task tomorrow, and to shave him every day.
Even the thought gave Tristan pause. Still, he adored her eagerness and new warmth. “Shaving me is Diana’s task, no one else’s. It’s what friends do.”
“Draw blood from each other’s faces?”
Tristan suppressed a smile. “Hardly. They do kind acts for each other. Diana wants to be my friend, so—”
“Wait. Why would she want to do that? Good Lord, man, she’s your wife. Surely she must be aware of it by now.”
“She also wants to be friends along with everything else, even learning all the languages I know and the other subjects I’ve studied so we have shared interests.”
“Odd notion. Think you can live with it?”
“Actually, her idea strikes me as quite brilliant. It’s far easier to converse with a woman who knows what you’re going on about than one who doesn’t.”
“I suppose. Though I’ve never thought of a woman as someone I needed to converse with, at least about things other than making me happy in my bed. However, if that’s what you want, just make certain Diana doesn’t learn everything. She could become a shrew. It’s happened with other women.”
“I have nothing to fear with her. She’s quite taken with me. Calls me her dangerous angel.”
James threw back his head and laughed heartily.
Tristan smacked his freckled chest. “You should be so lucky.”
“I should wonder why she calls you such a thing.”
“I told her about Peter.”
James’s laughter bubbled for a moment before fading away. “You did? What did she say?”
“She thanked me for saving him.” Tristan gave James a knowing look. “She truly thanked me.”
He nodded and wheeled his horse around to follow Tristan’s mount. “Did you tell her how you came to be lashed?”
“No.”
“Why not? I would think that tale would have her worshipping you.”
Perhaps, but he wanted her love for who he was now not because he’d suffered. Besides, he and Diana had a pact. He’d tell her his history when she gave him her all. Until he heard her declaration, he’d forget his past. “I have other ways to woo my wife.”
“You never mean to tell her?”
“The time will come. So keep your big mouth shut, do you hear? You and Peter nearly did me in with the incident concerning the gowns.”
“It was hardly our intent. You should have told us your plan to have Canela cover herself. We would have stood by you. We always have.”
They surely had. He smiled until James looked past, his manner cautious.
Tristan twisted around.
Canela was nearby, wearing the blue silk gown. The skirt flared in the breeze. Her dark hair whipped around her shoulders.
To his surprise, she and Adamo faced each other and held hands.
Tristan slapped James’s arm and pointed behind himself. They directed their horses to the new path to avoid disturbing the couple.
When they were far enough away not to be overheard, James reined in his gelding. “Do you think Canela’s finally decided on Adamo as a husband?”
“I offered her a large dowry and one of the nicest bedchambers as an incentive.”
“It appears she’s accepted.”
“She said she intends to wait for me.” Unease gnawed at him. “She said the island people wanted to see her, one of their own, ruling next to me. Do you bel
ieve her?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. Are you worried she’s going to cause a revolt?”
“They outnumber us, James.”
“True, but you’re a good man. You share whatever crops we have, much of which you developed. I believe you’re worrying over something that’s never going to be. Canela’s interests are finally where they should have been all along. If you want to make matters right, tell her she doesn’t have to wear those gowns. They look quite ridiculous.”
“I fully agree. Diana said as much this morning concerning the other woman. Once she agrees about Canela, the matter will be settled once and for all.”
“Oh, you are wed.”
“Enough or I’ll be forced to run you through.”
James laughed.
So did Tristan. “Come on, we have work to do.”
* * * *
Although Tristan and James were some distance away, the wind delivered clopping noises from their horses’ hurried retreat.
Outrage punched through Canela. Her shoulders burned. Tristan had seen her with Adamo and hadn’t been jealous. Instead, he’d wheeled his mount around to allow her a moment alone with her new lover.
“Canela.” Adamo squeezed her fingers gently. “Are you hearing me?”
She nodded.
His mouth moved with more words she didn’t care about. His eyes and hair were as dark as hers, skin as richly brown, features decidedly handsome.
None of it mattered. Not his youth, virility, and his obvious love for her when he’d never own colorful silks, sparkling jewels, or the fine stone house. Only Tristan did, and he’d taken it from her to give to his English wife.
Canela fumed at Diana shaving him, a task that belonged to her. Diana had nicked his face repeatedly. Tristan merely laughed. He’d taken the razor and helped her into the rose gown. After working the laces, he ordered her to bend over the table. The moment she had, he lifted the silk, bared her, and then he’d mounted.
Diana’s lewd moan said she no longer remembered or cared that Canela watched. He’d never known. Finished with his passion, he’d leaned over Diana, his face flooded with love. Never had he looked at Canela that way. Never had she required it. She wanted his riches, not his heart.
“Become my wife.” Adamo kissed her palm. “I will make you happy.”
Repelled, she wanted to pull away but considered his usefulness to her. “What if the Englishwoman tries to stop us?”
“How could she?”
Canela gestured to her gown. “She demanded I wear this. Who knows what else she has in store for me?”
“Wed me and I shall rule you.”
She pushed back her annoyance and feigned worry. “If I tell you something, will you keep my words close to your heart and not reveal them to the others on this isle?”
“I promise. Tell me what troubles you.”
She lowered her face. “I heard the Englishwoman say she wants our people to stay out of the courtyard and to never come near the stone house.”
Adamo pressed her hands to his chest. “When did you hear this? Who was she speaking to?”
“Her brother. She told him this morning. As Tristan’s woman, she has the right to put me out of my bedchamber. But to deny our people use of the courtyard in a house they built goes too far. I fear she and Peter will try to convince Tristan to do so.”
“Then we must speak to him first.”
“No, that would be madness.”
“Why?” Adamo looked puzzled. “You know I have no friendship for Tristan, but after he won this land, he promised we could use the courtyard. He will listen to us.”
Canela held back a frustrated shout, wanting to call Adamo a fool. “He will listen to his wife. Why else would I be in this gown? What else will she convince him of in order to harm us?”
“Then we must do something.”
She agreed and snuggled close, reveling in the moment they murdered Diana. Tristan and his wealth would then belong to Canela alone.
Chapter 8
As Diana bathed, the shuttered windows commanded her full attention. Although she missed the sunlight and soft breeze spilling inside the bedchamber, anyone might come in while she was alone. She’d never considered such a thing until Canela spied. Equally unsettling was Diana’s response, her desire not suffering a whit during her and Tristan’s impassioned lovemaking.
She didn’t want to consider how many other intimate moments the girl had witnessed or if she’d ever leave them in peace. Not that Canela’s future moves mattered. Despite what anyone here did or didn’t do, Diana would enjoy Tristan.
She was becoming more uncivilized by the day but did trouble over what to wear when she finished her bath. Her mariner’s clothing wouldn’t do. She wanted these people to accept her as one of them and had to dress the part except for baring her breasts. She tied a silk cloth around them, discarded that as obscene, and wrapped a sheet about herself, draping the end over one shoulder and arm like a Roman toga. An acceptable solution and almost civilized.
She padded to the library and stopped at the closed door. Loud sighs came from inside, most definitely Peter’s.
Tristan must have given him quite a lesson to do. Good. At least he was getting a gentleman’s education. Pleased, Diana opened the door.
The young woman in Peter’s arms flinched. She mumbled something in French and fled the room.
Peter sank to his chair and yawned.
Diana slammed the door.
He jumped, then frowned. “Don’t bother lecturing me. We’re not in England any longer.”
“Quite right, but we are still civilized. Look at me when I speak to you.”
He laughed. “Are you wearing a bedsheet?”
Diana crossed her arms over the ivory silk. “We’re speaking about you, not me.”
“No reason to discuss me at all.”
“Have you gone mad? You were kissing a girl.”
He colored. “So? It’s not a crime.”
“You’re just a boy.”
“The hell I am.”
“Watch your language and quit behaving like a sullen child, which proves you’re not yet a man.”
“I am too.”
“Not until you can make your own way in the world. Look around you, Peter. Do you truly believe Tristan accomplished this by amusing himself with women every waking hour?”
“Of course not. He became a pirate.” The boy shrugged. “It’s what I’ll be.”
She sank to a chair, her legs no longer able to hold her. “You are aware piracy is morally wrong and does carry risks such as you being hanged or dying during battle.”
“Tristan did all right for himself.”
She wanted to trounce him. “Has he ever bragged about going on the account? Did he tell you he always wanted to be a pirate? I think not. It’s my guess he was forced into the life like many other men. He also saved your silly neck from the vile captain you served. He wants you to have better than he did, and this is how you repay him?”
Peter pressed into his chair. “He told you what happened to me?”
“He did. And you’re lucky he saved you. So let me tell you this, little brother. Until you’re a man and can make your own way in this world, you will do your lessons just as your benefactor demands. If you refuse, I’ll ask Tristan to put you to work in the fields or tending the cattle and pigs. Trust me, the labor will be hard, the pleasures few.”
“None of that’s going to happen. He’s my friend, not yours.”
She nearly laughed. “You can’t possibly believe that. Tristan’s my husband, or have you forgotten?”
He crossed his arms. “Say whatever you want. I’ll never be a gentleman, no matter what you threaten me with.”
“I’m doing no such thing. I’m advising you as to your options. You may become whatever you wish as long as you try.”
“Is that what you think?” He regarded her as if she’d los
t her mind. “What if I want to become a merchant? How would I do so here? How am I to do anything on this isle except farm or engage in piracy?”
“You’ll leave this island of course.” The words had spilled out before she could stop them. Although the prospect pained her, someday Peter had to return to civilization and his own future.
“You think so? What about my time with Tristan and his crew? You said he and the other men would hang so I could go free. Clearly they won’t, which makes me as wanted as them. I have to stay here like him and you. Far as I can tell, there aren’t any cities or towns here. They’re back in England where these stupid lessons are required. Here, they’re quite useless.” He grabbed a volume and slammed it open. “But as you have Tristan’s ear and I do not, I’ll learn these bloody things.” He slouched.
Diana’s first reaction was to tell him to sit erect as a gentleman should. Her second was to forego the instruction, his words haunting her.
He was right about being marked. Even if his former shipmates didn’t point the finger at him, Bishop would. The bloody coward would make her pay for reneging on their bargain.
She went queasy. A few minutes before, Peter’s future had seemed so bright. Now, she couldn’t bear to consider what would become of him. She also feared for her and Tristan. They’d have children surely. Those precious little souls would be stuck on this island. She’d never stop worrying about their safety, whether they’d have enough to eat, or what might happen to them if Tristan’s former crew arrived one day and…
No, she didn’t want to consider such an outcome. He’d insisted there wasn’t anything to fear from the other pirates. She hoped that were true and not just his boundless confidence speaking.
The library door swung open.
Tristan smiled. “Working hard?”
Peter huffed. “What choice do I have?”
Tristan winked at her.
Tears filled her eyes.
He glanced at her French lessons. “Did I make the work too difficult?”
“Indeed, you did.” Peter flipped a page so forcefully he ripped the paper.
“I wasn’t speaking of your lessons.” Tristan regarded her. “Are you having difficulty?”
