Duncan took a step back, then gestured toward the open sea. "These are troubled waters, my friend. To travel them safely, you'll need an escort, at least for part of the way."
Sin-Jin wondered if he was being lied to. He kept his guard raised and at the ready. "An escort?" He spared a glance at the pirate's crew. It was an unsavory lot to say the least, but he had fought with men of worse caliber at his side and blessed the gods for it. Better with him than against him in any event.
"Aye." Duncan looked at Rachel again and fleetingly mourned what couldn't be. He'd not seen a woman of her like in many a season. "Where are you bound?"
There was no harm in telling him, Sin-Jin wagered. It was an easy enough matter to assess. "To France."
"And I to England." Disregarding the sword altogether, Duncan clapped Sin-Jin about the shoulders. "It seems that we are in the end happily met after all. We shall travel for a time together," he declared. He saw suspicion rise in Sin-Jin's eyes. Good, he thought, the man wasn't a dolt. "I always pay my debts." So saying, Duncan bent to retrieve his cutlass.
"One thing more." Sin-Jin's words stopped Duncan where he stood.
Duncan raised nothing more than his eyes, waiting. "Yes?"
Sin-Jin smiled slowly. "Your name."
White teeth flashed in the moonlight as Duncan straightened, his cutlass in his hand. He sheathed it, then bowed. "Duncan Fitzhugh, privateer. Captain of the Golden Reward." It was to Rachel he addressed his words, not Sin-Jin. "At your service." He inclined his head toward Sin-Jin. "And you?"
"Sin-Jin Lawrence." Sin-Jin put out his hand and Duncan took it in tenuous friendship.
Duncan's eyes were drawn again to Rachel. "And the lady's name?" he prompted.
Sin-Jin's smile never wavered. "Is none of your concern, Duncan."
Duncan laughed and the churning sea echoed with the deep, rumbling sound. With a flourish, he retreated with his men to his own ship.
True to his word, Duncan preserved their peace. The Golden Reward sailed within sight of The Charleston for a week and the better part of the one that followed. As the captain mended, the first mate took over command of the ship. But the insecure, shallow-faced man consulted with Franklin and Sin-Jin on all matters.
Sin-Jin had a man posted on deck with no other duty than to watch the shadowing privateer vessel for signs of possible re-boarding. He was grateful for Duncan's protection, but not foolishly lax. They were, after all, carrying Benjamin Franklin to France. It was a matter he had never made known to Duncan, but one the privateer might have been cognizant of nonetheless. To kidnap the elder statesman would be to set back the signing of the treaty and there were men who would profit from that. Sin-Jin was going to take no chance on that event happening.
Mistakes, Sin-Jin had learned during his very first campaign, were for dead men.
But The Golden Reward made no warlike movements. Instead, it sailed peaceful behind them as if they were sister sailing vessels bound for the same port.
By the time the elderly captain had healed sufficiently to reclaim the helm from his first mate, Duncan's ship had faded into the mists from whence it had come, bound for England. Or so he had said.
Sin-Jin was aware of neither event coming to pass. He was far too preoccupied to take note of either. Tainted water was discovered aboard ship the night before last. A dead rat had been found floating in it. The almost full barrel had been quickly disposed of, but not before one sailor had died from its consumption and two more had fallen gravely ill. By morning, Rachel had joined their number.
There was no physician on board and pitifully few medicinal supplies. Treatment of the patients was left to the rough hands of the crew members and their ultimate fate left up to God.
Sin-Jin had awoken to find Rachel staggering toward the porthole, her color a sickly yellow. He bounded out of bed in time to catch her as she sank to her knees. She was drenched in sweat, feverish and soon out of her head.
Keeping his fear at bay as best he could, Sin-Jin nursed her, never leaving Rachel's side. Hour after hour, he bathed her forehead and spoke to her, though she never gave any indication that she heard a single word.
Franklin looked in frequently during that day and the two that followed, but there was no change. The air hung oppressively heavy with sickness that seemed bounded to destroy what glimmer of hope Sin-Jin nurtured.
Peering in before supper on the third eve, Franklin saw Sin-Jin sitting where he had last left him. The older man crossed to the bed and laid a comforting hand on Sin-Jin's shoulder. Sin-Jin didn't even turn to glance in his direction.
Franklin shook his head. He was concerned about both. "Why don't you go on up and get some air?"
He was exhausted, but stubbornness kept him going. Sin-Jin shook his head. He dipped the cloth in the basin next to the bed. One of the sailors had been by to refill it not an hour ago.
"All there is out there is the ocean." He smiled sadly at Rachel's pale face, slick with perspiration. He wondered if he would ever see those green eyes flash at him again. Wringing out the cloth, Sin-Jin placed it gently on her forehead. "I like the view here much better."
Franklin glanced at the tray of food he had brought Sin-Jin earlier. It had been scarcely touched.
"You won't do her any good getting ill yourself." The man received no response and tried again. "I'll stay with her a while, Sin-Jin. It'll do you good to walk about the deck."
Sin-Jin remained firm. "Thank you, but no. I'll stay here."
He was afraid, though he refused to put it into so many words, refused to even admit it consciously to himself, that if he left her side, she would die. Just the way Savannah had died when he left her side for the space of half an hour. He knew it was foolish, that what would be would be, but he felt as if his presence somehow managed to keep death at bay. And foolish or not, he was going to stay at her side for as long as it took.
She had to wake up again. She had to.
Franklin nodded sadly and sighed. Patting Sin-Jin's shoulder, he shuffled painfully to the door. His gout was troubling him again. It was only one of the slings of old age a man had to endure. Far worse was the possibility of watching someone younger than he pass from this earth.
"Let me know if I can be of any assistance." He paused, then added, "I loved her long before you did."
Sin-Jin scarcely heard Franklin's words. He was vaguely aware of nodding as the door slowly closed behind him. He was haunted by memories of Savannah, the way she had looked before the fever had claimed her.
Taking Rachel's hand in both of his, Sin-Jin pressed the warm flesh to his lips. "Oh God, Rachel, you can't die. You can't leave me alone like this."
She stirred, groaning and the compress slipped over her eyes. Sin-Jin moved it back to her forehead. Her head felt so hot, to touch it chilled his heart. Sin-Jin closed his eyes. Folding his hands before him, he prayed in silence, calling to a God he hadn't spoken to in years.
Rachel fought her way up.
A white blanket pressed heavily on her, pushing down her entire body. She was miles beneath the surface. Miles away from the light. She was swimming, traveling toward the light, struggling to be near it. As she approached it, the light changed to a voice.
Sin-Jin's voice.
It guided her to the surface.
Her eyelids felt so heavy. Twice she lost the struggle to raise them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to open her eyes. The small cabin looked dim with a streak of red on the side. As she concentrated, the streak became contained within a lantern. She was in her cabin. In bed.
She realized that Sin-Jin was seated beside her, his head bowed. Was he sleeping sitting up? But that was his voice she had heard, his voice calling her back.
Her lips felt incredibly dry as she forced them to form words. "Who's dying?"
At first Sin-Jin thought that he had imagined it. He had wished for it so hard that he was certain he was hearing her voice echoing in his head. His eyes darted to Rachel's face, but he
r eyes were closed and her parched lips were still.
Sin-Jin sighed, feeling as if his heart was breaking. Once again he lowered his head in supplication.
They had slid shut. She thought they were open, but her eyes had fooled her and closed again. Once more she struggled to lift her lids. This time, it was easier.
For a moment, everything swam together, forming a massive, shapeless whole. It was as if she was peering at the room through a strange looking glass. The mass reformed. Shapes emerged. And then she saw him again, looking pale and drawn.
Sin-Jin.
Rachel tried to raise her head, but couldn't. It was much too heavy to lift and ached as if an unseen blacksmith was using it for an anvil. She thought she might have enough strength to reach out and touch him, but even that was too much for her.
"Do you always hover over a woman like this?"
This time he knew he heard it. Her voice was weak, but he had heard it. It wasn't just his imagination. His heart began to pound.
Her eyes were only partially opened, as if the effort to open them completely was beyond her strength. A prayer of thanksgiving quickly formed in his mind as tears of gratitude rose to his eyes. Sin-Jin took her hand in his.
"Only when they're ill." Emotion crowded his throat until there was barely room for a whisper left.
Her limbs felt so heavy, so tired. Each breath was an effort. "How long?"
His mind scrambled quickly, searching for her meaning. "Three days."
She tried to absorb the magnitude of that and failed. Rachel remembered standing in the cabin, looking out of the porthole. Could it really have been three days ago? Her stomach ached, and she splayed her hand over it protectively. "I remember the ship tilting."
He smiled at her. The relief was so overwhelming, it nearly stole his breath from him. "It didn't tilt. You did. You fainted into my arms." He had had to lunge in order to catch her.
Weakly, a smile traveled across her mouth, curving it. Sin-Jin thought he had never seen anything quite so beautiful. "That's all I need. It's falling at your feet you'll have me when you're telling this story."
He laughed and tears stung his eyes. He thought it ridiculous that a man should cry for joy. That was what filled his soul now, sheer joy. Her spirit was back. Rachel was going to live. Sin-Jin had never felt so grateful for anything in his life. "Only if you force me to repeat it."
Though she was tired, she grasped the jest of his meaning. "Blackmail."
He grinned, blinking away the wetness on his lashes. He stroked her forehead. It was damp. And cooling. "Of the highest degree."
Rachel felt as if she was sinking again. The effort to speak had drained a great deal of her energy. It frustrated her, but she was too tired to let it show. "Remind me," she whispered, "to challenge you on that when I'm my own woman again."
Sin-Jin kissed her hand then leaned his cheek against it. Well. She was going to be well. Nothing else mattered.
"It'll be the first order of business we turn to when you're back on your feet." And then he smiled fondly, recalling their first night together. "Or perhaps the second."
But Rachel was already asleep.
Chapter Thirty-one
The doll-like images along the coastline grew larger and took on the shape and breadth of a civilization.
As she watched the shore grow closer, it felt to Rachel as if they had been at sea forever. After her recovery, her nights had been filled with Sin-Jin and the awakening of her own womanliness. Some nights they gave themselves completely up to the rapture that always waited for them just beneath the surface. Other nights, Sin-Jin would just hold her until they both fell asleep. It was all exquisitely sweet and wonderful.
In contrast, her days had dragged on endlessly, despite games of whist with Franklin and long, entertaining conversations as the three of them circled and re-circled the small deck.
She had longed to be about something. To be useful. To do something. Rachel was overjoyed that they were finally here in France, though if truth be known, she ached for Virginia.
Franklin stood at one side of her now. He had been prepared to disembark hours ago. The man, she thought, had the energy of two men half his age. She turned toward him. "So this is France."
Rachel took a deep breath. The air smelled the same here as in Virginia. What made one piece of land more precious than another, she mused, when they all smelled the same and had the same look about them? She understood loyalties, but not wars.
"My second home," Franklin acknowledged with a nod. It was good to finally be here. There was work to be done. He felt a sense of urgency above and beyond the situation. At times he faced his age and it mocked him. He felt a need to hurry things along before it was too late.
Franklin leaned against the railing and gazed at the shore, at the men on the dock and the spreading outline of houses and shops just beyond. They were almost at the port now and he was eager to walk on land again. He hated the sea and the uncertainty of it.
"I must say, though I would never choose to be anything but an American now that we have a country to call our own, that there are certain advantages to being in an old country."
The Charleston eased its starboard side against the wharf and he could almost feel it sigh like an old man who had completed another successful journey against the odds. A little like himself, Franklin mused.
"The wine, for instance," he said when he realized that the two young people with him were waiting for him to continue. They would learn to appreciate the finer things later, he thought. Now they would take pleasure in one another.
He noticed a young woman crossing to one of the sailors about to leave on a merchant ship that was being loaded. She threw her arms around the man's neck and wept. A wife, perhaps, or a sister.
A twinkle entered Franklin's eye as he nudged Sin-Jin.
"And of course, their ladies."
Rachel glanced from the dock toward Franklin. She saw what had caught his attention. Or who. "You are a hopeless old rascal, Mr. Franklin."
He laughed heartily, delighted with her pronouncement. "And I hope always to remain so."
They disembarked with their possessions within the hour. Franklin gave the cabin boy tuppence to fetch a carriage for them. There was still a five day journey before they reached their final destination.
As the boy ran off, Franklin turned toward Rachel. His small eyes peered at her over the tops of his rimless glasses. "So, what do you think?"
There was a warm ocean breeze blowing and she loosened the cape she wore from about her shoulders. She would see summer here and perhaps the turning of the leaves. Rachel dismissed the bittersweet sting of nostalgia as she turned to face him. "It looks like any other port."
He had always loved her honesty. There was nothing dearer to Franklin than a tongue that could be relied upon to speak the truth. "Spoken like a true bored citizen of the world."
Rachel was used to his good-natured teasing. She had missed it these last few years. "I'm hardly a citizen of the world and I most certainly am not bored."
Too late she realized that Sin-Jin would most likely take this as a testimony to his abilities beneath the sheets. They were awe inspiring, but there was no sense in the man getting a swelled head about it.
As anticipated, she saw the grin on Sin-Jin's face. "And what is it that you're smiling about, I'd very much like to know?"
Sin-Jin was oblivious to the people who were milling around the docks. Their business didn't concern him. Only she did. "You."
"Why?" Just beyond, she watched The Charleston taking on cargo. The vessel would be putting out to sea again within the next two days, bringing much needed supplies to America. Cloth and dry goods bound for the Carolinas she'd been told. She wondered if Duncan would encounter it and if the ship would be safe from him if he did.
This wasn't the place to talk about what was on his mind. Too many ears about, including Franklin's, though Sin-Jin had his suspicions that Franklin knew very well what was transpi
ring between Rachel and him.
Sin-Jin shrugged good-naturedly. "Because you seem to take such joy in the simplest of things."
And because he remembered the way she had been last night. They had done nothing but lay together, her head nestled against his chest. They had fallen asleep that way, with Sin-Jin believing that the sweetest gifts of life had been granted to him.
Rachel arched her brow as a smile played on her lips. She could almost read his mind. The darling blackguard. "If it's yourself you're referring to by saying 'the simplest of things,' I' d say that you were getting ahead of yourself, Lieutenant."
Franklin didn't allow himself to be stifled by social amenities. He now felt that he knew Sin-Jin as well as he knew Rachel and that and his advanced age gave him the right to be privy to their secret. His eyes twinkled in merriment as he tapped his cane on the ground. "She has you there, lad."
Yes, Sin-Jin thought, Rachel had him. There was no doubt of that as far as he was concerned. Had him in the palm of her lily-white hand. And he would have wanted it no other way.
They were lovers now, Rachel thought, though they had done the deed but thrice, they were lovers in every sense of the word. It was a state of mind, of soul, more than of body that made them so. Rachel understood that she was irrevocably his. The fact that this was so gave her some pause.
Though she knew in her heart that she loved Sin-Jin the way she would have never believed she could love any man, Rachel honestly didn't quite know if she liked the idea that she belonged to him. The situation gave her no freedom, no choice in the matter. She had not looked at Sin-Jin and said, "I choose you." She hadn't chosen. "It" had chosen her. It, the feeling, the desire, the need to be with him, united as one. It had chosen her. She had not had a single word to say in the final analysis.
Just as he had prophesied not that many months ago.
The cabin boy returned with a driver and carriage just as another carriage bearing five dignified-looking men approached the wharf from the opposite direction.
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