by Tina Donahue
Tristan leaned in. “We’ll make a farmer or cook of him yet.”
“One can only hope. Not a word to anyone about my condition, please. It’s simply a feeling I have. There’s no proof yet.”
“Nine months from now we’ll have indisputable evidence. However, you have my word to keep your condition to myself. Now go to Follie before you miss anything.”
* * * *
The chart wasn’t yet finished, the thing drawn crudely, its scale hardly accurate. To Vincent the map was priceless because it showed the location of Tristan’s island. Only a few savages knew of its existence, the secret finally revealed after days of questioning and torture.
Even as the native drew the chart, Vincent worried the man might be making things up to spare himself additional woolding or death. To ensure against it, Vincent had ordered his men to capture the savage’s youngest child. Once the boy sat on the ground in front of him, Vincent gestured to Storley. “Tell the child’s father his son’s coming with us. If we find Tristan using the chart, the child will live. If not, well, who’s going to mourn the murder of a native boy?”
Storley delivered the threat.
The islander’s face went slack. He revised the chart yet again.
To show his gratitude, Vincent spared the boy, then ordered his crew to kill the father and the other men. And to be quick about it, so the pirates could put the boats to sea.
* * * *
“Canela! Canela!”
Despite her husband’s excited shouts, she remained on the mattress, eyes closed.
Adamo ran inside his home, breathing hard. “Why are you still in bed? Are you ill?”
She willed him to leave.
He fell to his knees by her side. “Answer me.”
“I was only resting. Why are you here? You should be watching the sea.”
He tried to catch his breath. “Follie’s infant is coming. You must go to her.”
“No. Though our people built the stone house, I am not allowed within its walls.”
“The courtyard is opened to all. So is the birthing room. You must go there and join the other women. Today we celebrate with our people for this blessing of new life.”
Resentment pulsed through her, but she remained quiet and meek. “If you go to the festivities, who will watch the sea?”
“One day will hardly matter.”
She clenched her jaw.
“It is only one day.”
“During which other men might rape and kill me.” She covered her face with her hands. “I thought I had your love, but now I know the future you truly want for me.”
“No. Canela, please. I will forego the celebration and keep watch. But you must attend. This is our home. We are not outcasts. We must show Tristan we belong here.”
“Far more than he.”
“That is why you must attend.” Adamo stood.
She pushed up and swung her legs over the mattress. “During your watch, will you promise to use the glass to see if any boats approach?”
“I will do exactly as you asked.”
“Have you buried the jewels and other items I gave you? You need them on the beach so you can take them with you when you see the pirates.”
He shifted nervously.
She stood. “Have you done it?”
“I have but there must be another solution.”
“There is. I will go to the edge of the sea and wait until a skiff comes near. As I lack pale skin, my future can hold nothing but grief. I cannot fight it. I bow to—”
“I will do as you ask.” He let out a low growl, then a pained moan. “I will do whatever you ask. All I want is your love.”
She slipped into his arms. “You have it. With you taking control of the encounter, I know I will be safe and this isle will soon be in our peoples’ hands.”
* * * *
Follie’s wails filled the birthing room. Men’s laughter rang from the courtyard as they’d already begun to celebrate.
Diana shook her head. “Silly little boys.”
Simone, young and quite lovely, looked at Diana questioningly. So did the other women.
Diana smiled, hoping the pleasantry would serve as an answer.
Follie writhed with renewed agony and let out a piercing shriek.
Diana wiped Follie’s brow, the same as she’d done for numerous women in her father’s congregation. They’d been in equal pain during childbirth, yet shame at being partially nude and screaming had compounded their distress. Worse, the coming child confirmed the passion they’d shared with their husbands when piety demanded somberness and restraint, not joy.
Here, everything was so much better and entirely natural.
Follie’s nudity hardly bothered her. Supported by Simone on one side and Gavra on the other, Follie squatted rather than lay on the bed, helping the process. Quite brilliant.
How anyone could call these lovely people savages was a mystery to Diana. They had better sense and a greater appreciation of life than any Englishman.
She stroked her belly. There were no outward signs of pregnancy yet, but she had conceived. An inner peace flowed through her, a sense everything would be all right. Smiling at the promise of her own infant, she wanted to catch Tristan’s eye and padded to the window.
Canela stood near the sill.
Diana stopped short.
Impassively, Canela regarded the birthing room, its marble floor, stone walls, rich bed covering. Those items didn’t hold her attention long. She stared at Diana’s marriage collar and promptly gripped her own. The disgust on Canela’s face said she wanted to rip off the leather and beads. Only silver and diamonds would do for her.
Diana wasn’t certain whether to feel disgust or pity. She would have worn rags if Tristan couldn’t have provided better. As a reverend’s daughter, she was hardly accustomed to life’s luxuries and coveted them even less. All she wanted was Tristan’s love.
Follie shrieked.
Transfixed by the diamonds, Canela smiled quite coldly.
Diana stepped back. The last time she’d seen such evil on anyone’s face was when the pirate with the yellow scarf had crossed the cabin to take her.
James hurried into view. “Canela, the men could use Adamo’s help. Where is he?”
She glanced past James and stiffened.
Diana guessed the girl had spotted Tristan. His laughter paused abruptly. He must have just seen Canela.
She flicked her gaze at James. “Adamo has matters to attend to at his home.” She left.
James watched her, then looked into the birthing room and immediately turned away, his freckled face redder than his hair. “Ah, Diana, might I have a word?”
She joined him at the window. “Don’t worry, James. One look won’t kill you.”
He groaned.
She smiled. “What did you want to ask?”
“How’s it going?”
Follie howled, followed by what sounded like French oaths.
Diana couldn’t help but tease. “I wish I knew how to answer, but I have no idea what Follie just cried out. I have it, why don’t you translate?”
“If I did, Tristan would have my head. Is she nearing the end?”
Panting hard, Follie rested against the wall. The infant’s head had crowned.
Apparently, Tristan had been right. On this island, birthing was over before one knew it. “It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
James scratched his chest. “When the babe does come, bring it out and show it to each of the men. It’s what we do here.”
“Of course. I’m certain Gavra or Simone will be more than willing to do so.”
“Not them. You. As mistress of this house it’s your duty.”
“And one of Tristan’s rules?”
“’Fraid it is. Go along with him, all right?”
“Certainly. James, wait.”
He stopped and looked over. The sun hit him full in the
face. Squinting, he shielded his eyes.
She leaned closer so the others wouldn’t overhear. “Where’s Canela?”
He peered over both shoulders before turning completely around.
With his sudden pause, she had her answer. The girl was near Tristan. “Please keep my husband safe.”
“Till my last breath.”
* * * *
Peter elbowed Tristan. “Think we need more pineapples?”
The courtyard tables literally groaned with food, the women and men still hauling out platters and baskets. Heavenly aromas of beef and pork mingled with the sweet scents of bananas, pineapples, fragrant rice bread, boiled eggs, and no end of delectable island fare. Everything seemed well in hand, but Tristan wanted Peter elsewhere. “I think the men might appreciate some spirits, especially Follie’s husband.”
“Last I saw he was talking to the priest in French, even though the man only knows Portuguese.”
“I’ve already told the priest to say a special prayer so Follie delivers a son. It’s all Étienne wants. Go get the spirits and give both men our very best.”
Peter ran to fetch the stock.
As Canela edged closer, Tristan finally faced her. Although his fury had passed from the loom incident, his caution remained. He wanted her out of his life. “Canela.”
Despite his mild tone, she recoiled and looked away as one would when embarrassed.
He wasn’t certain if she was putting on an act or not and hardly cared. “Is Adamo well?”
She nodded.
The man wasn’t about when he should have been.
James caught Tristan’s eye, inclined his head to Canela, and lifted his reddish eyebrows in a questioning manner, possibly as to what she wanted, other than the obvious.
Not knowing, Tristan shrugged in answer and focused on her. “Is Adamo here?”
“He has matters to attend to at his home.”
“Will he be joining us later?”
Her forehead furrowed. “Are you ordering him here? I thought Adamo was a free man. Should I tell him you demand he be at this celebration?”
“We having a celebration?” James joined them and slapped Tristan on the back.
Canela’s attention remained on Tristan. “Soon, there will be much to celebrate.”
Tristan didn’t like the sound of that. He spoke to James. “Did you have a word with Diana as I requested?”
“Aye. Told her about presenting the infant. She promised she would.”
“When was that?”
“Just before I came over here.”
Then Diana was all right, at least for the moment. He inclined his head slightly to Canela. “Enjoy yourself.
“James, I need a word.” He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him well past her so she couldn’t possibly overhear.
James broke free. “What is it?”
“Keep an eye on Canela. She’s not to touch any food or drink except what she takes for herself. Keep her away from Diana.”
“Your wife told me to protect you.”
“Did she? Well forget what she said. I can take care of myself.” He looked past James to Canela. She edged toward the birthing room. “Do you think we can trust Adamo?”
“To do what?”
“Keep his good sense and not allow Canela to involve him in something he’ll regret.”
“Such as?”
Tristan wasn’t certain. “I wish I knew, but in order to prevent a tragedy, keep your eye on her. And if you do see Adamo, let me know.”
James nodded.
* * * *
Gavra ran from the birthing room. “L'enfant est ici!”
Even with her poor understanding of French, Diana knew the woman had announced the child’s arrival.
Follie’s husband, Étienne, made the sign of the cross over himself. The priest looked concerned until Tristan said something in Portuguese that made the man breathe easier.
At their parents’ scolding, the usually boisterous children fell silent. A hush fell over the courtyard. Wind snapped the silk tablecloths and rustled leaves, birds called out to their mates, a new life cried.
Moved deeply, Diana left the birthing room, the swaddled babe in her arms, the infant’s face scrunched, a shock of dark hair on its head. She caught Tristan’s gaze. Her smile promised that one day the child she held would be theirs.
Until then, this newcomer demanded attention.
Diana padded to Étienne. “You were blessed with a little boy.”
The man stared at her. He, the priest, and the others exchanged quick, worried glances.
Peter sniggered until Diana scowled.
Tristan spoke to the priest in Portuguese and to the others in French.
Cheers broke out. Étienne threw his arms around the holy man. They bounced in place and cried out in their separate tongues.
Laughing at their joy, Diana presented the child to the men, who nodded their approval.
When Tristan’s turn came to view the babe, his smile was the broadest Diana had ever seen.
He asked, “Think you might want one of these for your own?”
“I would, though ours might not be a boy. Would you be disappointed?”
“Only if our daughter didn’t have your lovely eyes.”
“Might be a blessing if she didn’t.”
He frowned slightly. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“What if the odd coloring makes it hard for her to find a husband here?”
“You mean among the islanders?”
Diana nodded. The infant’s sweet warmth and weight brought tears to her eyes. “He’s perfect. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. So what if our daughter fancies him, but he thinks her coloring strange?”
“He’d have to answer to me for the insult.”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she also laughed. “Remember, you promised to spill no blood.”
“You might have to keep reminding me.”
Her happiness faded. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Rubbish. You sounded quite serious. Has something happened?” Her stomach twisted. “Has Canela done something?”
“Not that I know of.” He glanced over.
Canela looked past the opening in the courtyard walls to the sea, her hair floating on the wind. Perhaps the girl wanted to leave this isle because of her reduced status. Given her marriage, it might not be possible.
“Where’s Adamo?”
“Canela said he’s attending to matters at his home.”
Diana hadn’t expected that. “Leaving her here with these other young men about? Adamo struck me as murderously jealous.”
“He is, but she’s wearing the marriage collar. Every man here honors it.”
“Does she?”
Gavra ran up. “Bébé?”
Diana blushed. “Do forgive me.” She placed the infant in Gavra’s eager arms. The woman hurried to the birthing room and delivered the boy to Follie.
“Tristan.” Peter shifted in place. “Should I light the torches now?”
“Go on.”
Firelight ate away the first of the night. The musicians brought out their lutes, drums, and reeds. While they played, everyone else feasted and laughed.
Diana even tried out her awkward French. The men’s chuckles evolved into loud howls.
“Stop it.” She leaned against the table. “What did I just say?”
Tristan and James trembled with laughter. They shook their heads, either unable or unwilling to explain. Peter laughed so hard the bench vibrated.
Diana giggled, then finally laughed and joined in, feeling so at home she couldn’t recall having lived anywhere else. She loved this island. The night was warm and fragrant, breeze gentle, food plentiful, the people good, her husband and brother as happy as she and everyone else.
Except for Canela, who stood by the opening in the courtyard walls,
staring out to sea. Scarlet, plum, and gold from the setting sun streaked the sky behind Canela, making her a dark silhouette against the vivid colors.
Chapter 12
The pirates rowed toward the dark, a trace of sunset behind them. Vincent checked the first stars, matching them to the savage’s crude chart.
“Go southwest.” He pointed.
The man in front looked over. “Will we take them tonight?”
Vincent regarded the deepening gloom. Undefined shapes represented the hidden islands, one of them belonging to Tristan.
* * * *
While the others celebrated, Canela stood just outside the courtyard walls.
The wind changed course, blowing her hair against her face and neck. Annoyed, she clawed the strands away and cut her knuckle on a glass bead adorning her marriage collar. On an angry growl, she dug her fingers beneath the leather to rip it off.
“Canela.” A man’s voice rang from the forest.
She dropped her hand and stared at the darkness where the moon didn’t reach.
“Canela.”
Tristan’s deep, rumbling voice transfixed her. Her anger receded, replaced by quick hope. Finally, he’d called, wanting her to return to her rightful place at his side, with him giving her new jewels, silks, and combs. Excited, she stepped deeper into the darkness.
Hearty and familiar laughter sounded from behind.
From this distance, Tristan’s features weren’t readily apparent, but his hair was unmistakable, pale as the moon, his laugh unrestrained. He hadn’t called to her from the forest. He sat next to his wife.
“Canela!” Adamo called from the woods.
She glared. He should have been watching for the pirate ship. She made certain no one looked her way, then hurried into the trees and stopped before she ran into her foolish husband.
He reached for her.
She stepped back. “Why are you here?”
His eyes reflected moonlight filtering through the leaves. “Phillipe is on watch, leaving me free for pleasure.” He glanced past her to the music, laughter, and conversations. “After we lay together we can join the others.”
“Go back to the point. You must replace Phillipe.”
Adamo frowned. “No. I intend to lay with you, then remain in the courtyard until dawn with everyone else.”
