by Merry Farmer
Another figure, also dressed in skirts, waited by the boat. As Milton opened his mouth to protest Grand-mère’s inclusion, I elbowed him in the side. When he looked at me, I shook my head. If my grandmother wished to accompany us, she would find no arguments from me.
One by one, we climbed down the rope ladder to the boat lowered into the water below. Milton took the oars and rowed us to Calais.
Although Calais was smaller than Dover, our destination was more difficult to find. This time, we didn’t have the advantage of knowing where to search. Since Grand-mère and I each spoke fluent French without accents, we split into two groups to search the town. I volunteered for the more dangerous area of the docks in case Caleb had left aboard a ship. Milton accompanied me.
As we stepped away from the docks and the men working there, Milton brushed the back of my arm with his fingers. Tingles spread over my skin. When I spared a glance over my shoulder, I found him regarding me intently. My body tightened, anticipation thrumming through me. Even after weeks of sating our desires, he could still light my body on fire with a look and the brush of his fingers.
Leaning closer, Milton murmured in stilted French. “I want to tell you that no matter what happens today, I have truly loved my time with you.”
His words shivered through me, leaving me warm. I paused, turning to gage his sincerity. I’d never faced a more earnest man. Clenching my fists to keep from tracing the curve of his cheek, I answered softly. “I have, too. But we have work to do. This isn’t the time.”
I didn’t know if it would ever be the time. I didn’t know if I wanted it to be. Something unspoken lay between us, something that might change us if we let it into the light. I waited for his nod before I turned and led him into a tavern.
For a seaside tavern, it was surprisingly clean and bright. Polished wood tables were clustered together along with mostly empty chairs at this hour of the day.
I found the barkeep along the counter and approached him. “Excuse me, sir?”
I waited for him to turn to me with the expected smile and false air of welcome he delivered to customers. It didn’t take long. Since we were now deep in French territory, Milton and I had agreed that I should speak.
“I’m newly arrived in Calais and looking for my ward. His name is Caleb, and he is about nine years old, blond hair, and blue eyes. He is a bit scrawny for his age and just shy of four royal feet tall. He was traveling with two women claiming to be his aunts. I don’t suppose you have seen him?”
The barkeep lost his charm, looking pensive as he shook his head. Unfortunately, it was the same answer we had already been given by the sailors along the docks. At least we were reassured that Caleb hadn’t left on a ship. If he had reached Calais, we would find him.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.” With a sigh, I turned away.
A grizzled man nursing an ale at a nearby table stared at me with narrowed eyes. I nodded to him, tight-lipped, as I led Milton toward the exit. We would try the shopkeepers next.
As we stepped abreast of the man, he set down his tankard and cleared his throat. “I have a neighbor outside of town who took in her grandson recently. He meets that description.”
My breath caught, and I turned to him. After so many years in Britain and aboard my ship, my words nearly spilled out of me in English instead of French.
“Where does this neighbor live?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I felt as though I balanced on a knife’s edge. Depending on the stranger’s answer, I might topple over.
Rather than answer me immediately, the man raised his tankard to his lips and drank it down, his throat working. He wiped his beard as he stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
My heart turned a somersault. I swallowed back a rising tide of nervousness and wariness. As I stepped toward the door, I patted the pistol beneath my skirt. If need be, it would take me a heartbeat to reach it and defend myself. Not to mention, Milton accompanied me. Although he hadn’t brought his sword, he had a wicked dagger and a pistol concealed in his boot.
As we stepped outside, he looked stoic. How much of the conversation had he understood? His vocabulary was passible, but he tended to speak very slowly, not akin to a native Frenchman. At the speed with which the conversation had elapsed, I suspected the words might have escaped him.
Nevertheless, he made no protest as we followed the grizzled man through the streets of Calais to a wagon. He hitched it to a waiting donkey and motioned for us to climb aboard. “I am Louis. Come, you can ride in the wagon bed.”
I hopped up without protest, settling my skirts around me as I introduced myself and Milton. In a gruff voice, Milton said, “I would like to walk.”
The man shrugged. “Do as you will.”
Ten minutes later, Louis turned his donkey down a narrower drive than the dirt road leading out of town. The trees thinned to frame a modest farmhouse. The moment we neared the door, I hopped out of the wagon bed unassisted. Milton lengthened his stride to stand alongside me.
Once he drew his animal to a stop, Louis craned back his head and called for the lady of the house, Paulette. Moments cascaded into one another. I held my breath as I scanned the windows of the farmhouse, searching for a small blond head.
The door opened, revealing a middle-aged, round-faced woman. She shook out her skirts and patted down her apron. “What are you doing here at this hour, Louis? Shouldn’t you be in Calais?”
Louis offered her a lopsided smile as he slid out of the wagon’s seat. “I was sitting at the Thirsty Wench when this lady and gentleman arrived. These kind souls are looking for a boy that matches the description of your grandson. I know you said your daughter brought him in to stay with you for a while…”
I pressed my lips together. This woman was of no relation to Caleb, and we both knew it. The question was, did she trust me enough to admit it? As she turned her narrowed gaze to me, I stepped forward, my hands raised.
“Forgive the intrusion, madame, but this boy is my ward. I’ve been sent by his mother, who is very ill. May we see him? If he is not the boy, my friend and I will leave at once.”
The woman hesitated, the lines around her nose and mouth deepening. When she was nearly grimacing, she cocked her head and called, “Boy, come here, please.”
The slap of footsteps sounded indoors. A moment later, Caleb appeared behind her skirts, looking wary. He resembled his mother to such an extent that I recognized him instantly despite the months since I had last seen him. Relief coursed through me, making it easy to kneel in front of him. I offered him a genuine smile and spoke softly in English.
“Hello, Caleb. I’m Jeanne, a friend of your mother’s. Do you remember me?”
He edged farther out from behind the old woman’s skirt. “You’re Aunt Tammy’s friend, the captain of The Lady’s Gambit.”
I smiled. “Yes, I am. It’s time for you to come home, Caleb. Your mother is very worried.”
Tears filled his eyes, but he dashed them away before they fell. “She is still alive?”
“She is, and she’s waiting for you on board my ship with Aunt Tammy. They both would like to see you very much.” I held out my hand to him.
He didn’t hesitate before taking it.
Aludra helped Caleb into the rowboat, settling him at its prow before she assisted Grand-mère into it next. I remained on the shore to help Milton push it into the water.
He looked at the boat, his muscles tensing, but he didn’t approach. Instead, he caught my hand and tugged me away from the others. “Can I speak with you a moment?”
With no one else in earshot, he spoke English. After his horrendous French accent, it was a relief. Nevertheless, I scanned the shore to make certain no one had pursued us. We were safe. I followed him out of earshot of the others, motioning for them to wait.
The moment we were granted some semblance of privacy, I asked, “Is something amiss?”
He studied my face, intent. His gaze t
raced the curve of my lips, my cheekbones, the corkscrew curls pulling free of my bun. Finally, he met my eyes once more. “I know of a smuggler family not far from here. I can use them to return to England.”
His words coursed through me, leaving me feeling strangely empty in their wake. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying goodbye.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I wasn’t expecting this so soon, despite his intention to leave once we had found Caleb. I swallowed thickly. “Our arrangement…”
He cupped my cheek, his palm warm. “I’m releasing you from our wager.”
I felt like I just been hit with a bucket full of cold ocean water. “You don’t want to marry me?” I should feel relief, not this twisting in my gut.
“I think the issue is that you don’t want to marry me.”
I couldn’t say anything to that. Nothing truthful. When I didn’t answer, he retracted his hand. He flexed it at his side. His expression was impassive, but something in the set of his shoulders looked crestfallen. It hadn’t been the answer he wanted to hear.
Hastily, but honestly, I told him, “I don’t want to marry anyone.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up in a crooked smile. “Then you ought to stop making wagers you have no intention of honoring.”
After our time together, the thought of accepting another challenge felt sour. My confidence in my abilities notwithstanding, I doubted I would duel again anytime soon.
“So you’re…leaving? That’s it?”
Perhaps it was naïve, but I’d expected a more prolonged goodbye than this.
We didn’t even have proper privacy.
If he walked away now, our time together would feel empty and unfinished.
Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to mine. I shut my eyes, soaking in the contact and trying to maintain my equilibrium. He was one man. I’d been without him, on my own, for years. This freedom was what I had always wanted. But as our breaths mingled in the air between us, what I craved most was to kiss him again.
His voice rough, he said, “That’s it. I have my life to return to and you have yours. I hope they don’t cross again—professionally, at least.”
I recoiled, blinking away the tears in my eyes. After our time together, he had come to mean something to me. I hadn’t wanted to face the future because I hadn’t wanted to lose him, but neither had I wanted to lose my autonomy. I couldn’t have both.
Softly, Milton kissed me one last time, a sweet brush of his lips. As we parted, he lingered to brush the backs of his fingers across my cheek. Then he stepped away.
“You might be like all other women, Lady Quickblade, but to me there’s no one like you. Now, get into the boat. I’ll see you into the water, then make my own way.”
Tears choked me. I didn’t trust myself to say a word, so I turned and did as he said. As Aludra took charge of the oars, I twisted to watch the bank grow smaller and smaller. Long before his figure shrank from my view, he turned and walked away. He didn’t look back. I twisted in my seat to do the same.
Chapter 14
Leave a Legacy
Twilight descended slowly, casting purple shadows over the wide-open ocean. As I stared out over the lapping waves, the clear sky overhead twinkled with the first stars of the evening. The ship was silent, most of the crew below deck either sleeping or eating in the mess. Alone with only my thoughts and the sea, I should feel calm. Balanced. Whole. Instead, I felt as though my life had been cast in shadow. I couldn’t take a full breath.
I focused on my ship, trying to shake away this morose mood. Only three people remained on deck, two women and a young boy. Aludra was easy to spot with the way she shepherded Evelyn around the deck for exercise. During the past couple of weeks with Caleb on board, Evelyn’s health had improved drastically. Laughing, she batted away Aludra’s help and called for Caleb to get out of the rigging. With a groan even I heard, the boy dropped down to the deck and trotted after his mother. Although her face was too far away to discern, her smile was apparent in every line of her body as she ruffled her son’s hair. Despite Aludra’s overprotectiveness, I had every confidence that Evelyn would make a full recovery.
Tamara, too, seemed to be recovering from the guilt of losing her ship to the British. We’d gotten word to the others in the fleet. Our other ships patrolling for the lost crew were finding them and giving them sanctuary. Tamara was below deck now, and I could only imagine the tension between her and the crew. She had been a captain and at the helm of her own vessel for well over six months until the British had snatched the ship away. Although no one had asked me how she and Evelyn would fit into the hierarchy of the crew, the tension between Aludra and Tamara had mounted as the entire crew whispered suspicions that Tamara would step back into her role of first mate.
I hadn’t made a decision on that front yet. Most likely, if we were to stay this way, we would ask the crew to vote. It would rankle if I had to strip Aludra of a rank she so well deserved. I had half a mind to turn over the ship to Tamara and find a new path.
Don’t think like that. In the two years I had been at sea, I’d never considered leaving. I loved sea life too well. Without my ship, without my crew, I would be adrift. More so if I had to moor myself on land. No, this morose mood, this raw loss gnawing at my belly, would pass with time. All I had to do was keep going.
I sighed heavily and lifted my hands to press the heels against my aching eyes. I wanted to sleep, but my cabin brought me no solace. It was filled with memories that Milton and I had made. The times we were at our most cohesive. I wanted those memories to leave me alone.
“If you’re going to take your hands off the wheel, perhaps I should take over.”
I jumped at Grand-mère’s voice. I hadn’t noticed her approach. Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together and act normal. This difficulty, this unease in my own skin, was why I had volunteered to take over the helm every night since Milton’s departure. That, and the silence. At night, no one lingered on deck to shoot me knowing looks or dance around the events of the past few weeks.
Although I felt far from serene, I dropped my hands. I took the wheel once more, making a small correction to our course. “I’m fine, Grand-mère. The sea spray caught in my eye, that’s all.”
Grand-mère harrumphed, punctuating the sound with the knock of her cane on the deck. “You never were a good liar.”
I met her gaze for the barest second before I looked away. There was too much shrewdness in her eyes, cutting through my thin veneer of serenity. Although I thought I had been doing an admirable job of convincing the crew I had not been hurt by Milton’s departure, Grand-mère watched me with bald sympathy. If she saw beneath my mask, what was the point in maintaining it? A wave of sadness crested, and I almost broke.
The thump of Grand-mère’s cane was softer this time as she took another small step toward me. In the twilight and the bobbing light of the lamp attached to a pole in the stern, her expression was soft. She beckoned me. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll have a chat?” She gestured over my shoulder to the bench Hannah used for her work.
I swallowed before I trusted myself to speak. “I can’t, Grand-mère. I have to steer the ship.”
Lately, I felt the same about my life. I couldn’t stop or let up for a second. I had to keep steering.
My grandmother caught a dangling rope and looped it over the spokes, holding the wheel level for us to continue in a straight line. “There. That will keep it steady. The sails have already been clipped for the night, I see.”
Was it that easy? My lower lip trembling, I let my hands fall from the wood. “I can’t just walk away. What if…?”
Grand-mère gripped my elbow in a gentle but firm grasp. “We aren’t going to jump off the deck. I promise, if we see an iceberg, I’ll let you return to the wheel.”
“We’re too far south to find an iceberg,” I protested, even as I let her lead me away.
/>
“Thank heavens for that! Can you imagine how cold it would be if we were sailing among gigantic chips of ice?”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t help but smile. “Grand-mère…”
“Come here a moment.” She sat on the bench, still clutching my arm. I perched on the edge but glanced out over the ocean rather than look at her. Gently, she reached out and patted beneath my puffy eyes with her fingertips. “You look as though you haven’t been sleeping.”
If I was so poor a liar, I shouldn’t lie. “It’s the stress of responsibility. I have to find a place for Tamara and Evelyn.”
The old woman grunted. “This isn’t stress, and you know it.”
The accusation stung. I stared at my hands trembling in my lap. I didn’t want to admit the weakness that I felt upon being left behind. Shouldn’t I have had a say in what Milton had chosen for us?
But would I have chosen any different? I knew myself better. This was for the best. Knowing the reason behind the decision didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Have I ever told you about my first husband?”
I glanced up, narrowing my eyes. Slowly, I shook my head. Grand-mère hadn’t told me much about her life at all, except for bits and pieces.
She joined me in looking over the stern toward the ripples we left in our wake. “I first married when I was young and naïve and the world was full of possibility. When he courted me, I thought he would lay the world at my feet. And he did…until I said yes. But I fancied myself in love, and I held onto that sentiment long past when it died.”
Silence surrounded us, thick and choking.
After a moment, the old woman whispered, “There is no love without mutual respect.”
She sounded pain, even after all these years later. I didn’t know how to console her. “I’m sorry…”
I had rescued so many women from poor situations in the past couple of years. Somehow, I’d never thought of my grandmother as being akin to them. But she had been. She’d confessed as much our first night. I’d simply forgotten it when it was convenient to me.
