Chapter 6

 

Trading Simone’s freedom for his mother and sisters’ future wasn’t possible for Royce. Never had been. There had to be a way to spare everyone.

First, though, he had to prove to Bishop he’d arrived and was working on the plan before Bishop contacted a cold, calculating rogue to get the job done.

To locate the isle, Royce had spoken to natives who’d suggested the possible location. They’d do so for others too, given enough incentive. A surprise attack would be imminent, no matter the precautions Tristan took, the outcome worse than what Simone had already lived through.

Royce had to secure paper and pen for his note to Bishop, then get to the damn birds alone.

For days, Peter escorted Royce to the creatures and always remained nearby, sighing loudly from boredom or anger, muttering about wanting to be elsewhere.

Royce finally had enough of this nonsense too. He wasn’t armed and couldn’t fly off the island to escape. “Why not move these cages outside my bedchamber? The creatures would have fresh air they surely need and I could reach them from the windowsill.” With the ever-present armed guard nearby.

Of course, the islanders weren’t always as watchful as they should be. Some fought sleep or had to relieve themselves. During those scant minutes of diverted attention, he could release a bird and pretend the creature had escaped when he’d opened the cage. Wasn’t likely the men would shoot and hit the thing, ruining his plan. “If Tristan agrees, I wouldn’t need to bother you or anyone else to bring me here to take care of them.”

Peter shrugged. “I can ask.”

Days passed without an answer. Tristan had no time to consider the trivial matter, spending his efforts tending animals, surveying ruined crops, or helping the others rebuild their homes.

Simone’s visits to Royce’s bedchamber grew less frequent. His healing wound didn’t require new bandages as often. During the cleanup after the storm, the others had cut or scraped themselves and needed Simone to look after their injuries. When she finished with those tasks, expectant mothers wanted potions to ensure their coming infants’ good health. Children needed care.

Royce suspected Tristan, Diana, and Gavra were behind the full schedule Simone had mentioned to him.

No longer able to wait for Tristan’s answer, Royce woke early and lingered in his chamber until Gavra delivered his morning meal. Once she had enough time to return to the kitchen, he opened his door.

The hall was empty.

Movement sounded from behind Royce.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t only the wind and rain. Last night, he’d closed his shutters against the new storm.

Adamo rattled the barrier now, then shoved it open rather than peer through a slit in the wood as he’d done for hours. “What are you doing?”

Royce strode down the hall, a crutch no longer necessary, his pain gone and gash fully scabbed.

Adamo’s feet slapped the marble floor, his pursuit as relentless as a London banker running down a defaulting creditor. “Arrȇter, sauf si vous voulez que je vous tire.” Stop, unless you want me to shoot you.

Royce held up his hands, walked backward, and spoke French. “I’m unarmed. What trouble can I cause? If you must kill me, you’ll have to shoot me in the back.” He resumed his march through the building, stopping at the dining area.

Tristan, Diana, James, and Peter stared at him as they might an unholy apparition. Rain slashed the closed shutters. Wind rattled them. The roof opening sported glass that kept the room dry but horribly stuffy.

Everyone wore a dour expression. Oil lamps added little warmth to the dreary mood and day.

Tristan, James, and Peter’s pistols lay on the table at their sides, the muzzles glinting in the yellowish light. Only Diana had arrived unarmed.

Adamo clamped Royce’s shoulder.

He put out his hands to Tristan in surrender. “I need a word. Please. I have been trying for days to speak with you. This morning seemed the perfect time as you can hardly build or tend anything in this rain.”

Tristan glanced past him to Adamo. “Tu peux rejoindre les autres dans la cuisine.” You can join the others in the kitchen.

Conversation and laughter from a sizeable crowd flowed into this room.

Tristan smiled. “Profitez de ce que les femmes ont fait.” Enjoy what the women made.

Adamo remained. The cowhide covering his head and shoulders dripped water, puddling at his bare feet. “Should I come back here when I finish?”

“I’ll call when you’re needed. You did a fine job in guarding our visitor. Merci.”

Adamo nodded and left.

Tristan told Diana what they’d said, then faced Royce. “Go on, sit.” He gestured him to a chair. “A word of warning. Do not roam about on your own. If Adamo doesn’t shoot you, one of us may.”

“I’m unarmed. What threat do I pose?”

“You tell me.”

If only Royce could. That would make the situation easier and would result in his immediate death, leaving his family no protection or hope. “I deal in exotic merchandise, not danger or murder. I would leave here in a moment if I could.”

Gavra carried the silver tea service into the room, her eyes on James. “Qu’a dit l’Anglais?” What did the Englishman say?

Royce told her before James could.

Simone leaned against the kitchen doorway, humiliation and sorrow in her eyes.

Of all the things for her to overhear, Royce wouldn’t have chosen his last words. However, he had to keep up his performance or risk worse than her bruised feelings. He spoke French. “Am I your prisoner here, Captain? Is this to be my fate for the rest of my days?”

Gavra filled James and Tristan’s teacups.

“Merci.” Tristan pulled the saucer close. “Please bring one for our visitor.” He regarded Royce and spoke English. “Have you eaten?”

“Gavra brought ample food as she always does. I came here instead, wanting to speak.”

Tristan looked over. “S’il vous plaît lui apporter une assiette et des ustensiles pour qu’il puisse nous rejoindre.” Please bring him a plate and utensils so he can join us. Tristan leaned back and switched to English. “As a guest, not a prisoner. Have you seen Newgate or heard of it? Trust me the accommodations here are far better.”

“I didn’t mean to be impolite. However, I’m going mad spending each day in my room, having to wait for Peter to escort me to Edward’s pets so I can tend to them.”

Peter snorted. “If you think I like it any better than you, then you’d be wrong.”

Diana gave her brother a look as cool as her pale blue gown. “We know how taxing you find your obligations here. However, you will continue with them.”

He hunched over his food, muttering beneath his breath.

“Enough, Peter.” Tristan waited until Gavra delivered the plate, fork, and spoon before he spoke to Royce in English. “You best follow our rules as you’re going to be with us awhile. Mozambique is quite a distance from here. We can’t risk taking you there.”

“I understand that. Small craft would never make the journey. Even a longboat would probably have difficulty reaching the Mozambique shore.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Royce didn’t have to feign surprise. “You have a larger vessel?” Surely, the Lady Lark.

“Whether we do or not, James, Peter, and I have prices on our heads. We can’t risk escorting you to civilization. James has already asked the islanders if they’d care to see to the task.”

“They said no.” James flicked something from his freckled chest. “They want nothing to do with the English, except for us, of course. Given their experience with the last pirate who ruled, one can hardly blame them.”

Tristan put down his cup. “That means you’re here until the islanders we trade with arrive. Perhaps they can help. That said, we won’t be able to ask them for some months. Wisely, they don’t travel during cyclone season. Your bedchamber may seem like a prison to you, but it’s far better than what most in this world have.”

“I’m not complaining about that. Admittedly, you’ve been gracious. But I want to make myself useful. James said everyone here works.”

“They do.” Diana shot Peter a look. “Whether they want to or not.”

“Then make use of me.” Royce pled with Tristan. “Allow me to care for Edward’s pets without pulling Peter from his tasks. I can put the cages outside my room. When the hens and birds need tending, I can climb over the windowsill and do what I must. If I travel farther than that, surely an islander can shoot me.”

Peter snickered.

Tristan cut his fish. “That’s seeing to your needs, not those on the isle.”

“I could also assist Simone in her daily tasks.”

Diana’s fork clattered against her plate. “Absolutely not. You will not spend your days with Simone.”

She pattered into the room. “Que dites-vous à propos de moi?” What do you say about me?

Peter told her.

She frowned. “No one here owns me. I can do as I please.”

Peter translated for Diana.

Tristan put out his hands. “Of course, Simone. But this is your home, not Royce’s. Healing is your task, not his.”

“If I may say something.” Royce waited for Tristan’s attention and switched to English. “I could read her the passages from your medical books, recording those she needs on another sheet for future use.” That would give him access to paper and pen.

Tristan arched one eyebrow. “You can read Arabic?”

“French, English, Latin, and Greek. However, if I have the Arabic alphabet at hand, with its translation into the languages I do know, I can piece things together and learn to read it. Until then, I can use your other books to tell her what she needs to know, sparing you, Peter, or Diana the task so you can return to your regular work. I could also teach Simone to read.”

She touched his arm and asked what they’d said about her.

Royce told her.

Simone’s face lit up. “You would do that for me?”

“If you want to learn, of course and gladly. Though it’s up to you.” Royce spoke English to the others. “Everyone here should learn to read and write so they have access to the knowledge in the library. It’s a sorry waste if they don’t.”

Tristan tapped his chin. “Diana’s already had an idea to teach the islanders.”

Peter chuckled.

Tristan glared. “What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing.” He sobered. “It’s just that she’d have to learn the languages Royce knows, and fluently too, before she could teach anyone else anything. The infants could have their own children by then.”

Royce sensed a fight brewing that might steer everyone from the course he’d set them on. “I don’t want to intrude if the matter’s been settled.”

Diana’s cheeks flamed. “It hasn’t. I have no objection to you teaching them what they need to know. I want them to learn and thrive.”

“As do I.” Royce chanced a smile. “You’re more than welcome in my classroom too. I’m a fair teacher and will have you speaking and writing the languages as promptly as I can.”

“No thank you. My husband sees to my lessons.”

“As you wish. What about the fields and pigs?”

Tristan looked at him blankly. “What about them?”

“James said I’d be working there when my leg mended. It has. Will I be outside during daylight and in the library after dark?”

Tristan worked his mouth, fighting a smile. “I think we can let you forgo the physical labor. You seem more suited for the library.”

“I can pull my weight in any endeavor and shall.”

Simone touched his shoulder. “What did you and Tristan say?”

He told her.

“Please stay in the library. I need your help with my healing.”

“That settles it.” Tristan tossed his napkin on the table. “You two can begin today.” He told Diana what he’d said, then spoke to Royce in English. “Once the rain stops, Peter will put your cages outside your window. They’ll have to go back to the storage room when the storms start up again.”

“Agreed.” Royce stood.

“Wait.” Diana laid her hand on Tristan’s. “Peter and I use the library to study. It’s hard enough getting through the lessons without others in there reading aloud or speaking and causing endless distractions.”

Simone glanced at everyone. “Ce qui se passe?” What goes on?

Royce told her.

She spoke to Tristan. “Royce and I could use the birthing room. No one needs it today, tomorrow, or the next. When they do, we can find another place. Either my bedchamber or his.”

A crash sounded.

Gavra. She picked up the tray she’d either dropped or thrown down.

Diana looked confused. “What just happened?”

Tristan explained, then spoke to Simone. “Not the bedchambers. Use the birthing room for now. You can bring the books you need in there. I’ll translate the Arabic alphabet into English for Royce.”

He nodded. “What about Adamo and Philippe?”

“What have they to do with this?”

“While they’re guarding me in the birthing room, they should have a chair, unless it’s acceptable for them to sit on the bed. It’s not fair to ask them to stand the entire time. Or worse, wait outside in the rain. The damp heat would be terrible for them.”

Tristan didn’t react.

Royce stared him down.

“Simone.” Tristan looked at her. “As-tu confiance en Royce?” Do you trust Royce?

“Oui. He only wants to teach me what I should know so I can help everyone here. How is that dangerous? How does that cause harm?”

“Very well. No more guards…if my lovely wife feels the same.” Tristan stroked her fingers and explained what they’d discussed. “Do you agree? I trust your opinion on this.”

Diana slumped. “We’re not in England any longer. I keep forgetting that.”

Peter kept his head down. Given where he sat, he managed to hide his smirk from Tristan and her.

Diana glanced up. “Yes, I agree with my husband. Ah, bien apprendre, Simone.” Learn well, Simone. “Lecture et…l’écriture va ouvir un monde que…vous ignoriez…l’existence.” Reading and writing will open up a world you never knew existed.

She clapped her hands. “Merci. We should begin now.”

“Oui. Off with you.” Tristan gestured them away. “Wait. Royce, you can start taking your meals in here with us. Saves Gavra the trouble of serving you.”

“I can eat in the kitchen like Simone and the others.”

“They’re only here until we rebuild their homes.”

“Then I’ll dine with them until they leave for their own places. If you don’t mind.”

“Have it your way. Though we will want you to take the evening meal with us so you can provide an update on your day and progress.”

“Of course.”

Simone laced her fingers through his. “Are we leaving now?”

“Oui.”

She tugged him toward the kitchen. “We can see to Edward’s pets first, then prepare the birthing room with what we need.”

* * * *

Animated conversation streamed from the kitchen. Silence followed, then muted but heated words. If Tristan had to guess, he’d say Simone had made an announcement about her and Royce’s new plans and Gavra didn’t take the news well.

A pot clanged.

Diana looked over and leaned into Tristan, her mouth on his ear. “Do you trust him?”

He couldn’t say no, but wasn’t certain he should say yes. Royce was a paradox. Slick as could be in presenting his arguments that were hard to refute, but also strangely vulnerable around Simone. With her, he seemed genuine, having no hidden agenda, truly wanting to help.

Tristan considered how he’d respond if he found himself in Royce’s place. Stranded on an isle in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by armed strangers. He probably would have behaved the same. “He has no weapon, nor means of leaving and telling anyone anything. Even if the other islanders agree to take him to Mozambique, which may be doubtful, they’d blindfold him so he couldn’t reveal where this island or the others are. He’s not a mariner who knows the route the captain took. For good measure, we could threaten to run him down if he ever opens his mouth about us being here. He doesn’t strike me as a man who’s had experience besting pirates. We can cow and confuse him easily.”

The din in the kitchen quieted.

Diana crossed her arms over the table. “So you don’t trust him completely? What about you, James?”

“I’m staying out of this.”

Tristan laughed. “That’s no answer.”

“Very well. Gavra doesn’t like him.”

“With good reason, given what the pirates did to her. That said, she’s not you.” Tristan slumped in his chair. “What are your thoughts?”

“I have no complaints about the man. He’s eager to work and did bring up what I’d said earlier about him toiling in the fields or tending the pigs. He didn’t have to tell you that. I sure as hell wouldn’t have even though I’m no stranger to hard labor.”

“That’s probably why you’d react differently than he had.” Tristan wiggled his eyebrows. “I can’t picture him wrestling a pig.”

Peter laughed. “Want to know what I think?”

Tristan leveled his gaze on him, tired of Peter repeatedly goading Diana. “You should be in the library by now doing your lessons. And I do mean schoolwork, not running off to enjoy Laure. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Peter’s face and throat colored. “No, sir.” Shoulders slumped, he dragged from the room.

Diana sighed. “Will he ever grow up?”

“In time. Everyone does. We’ll have to muddle through with him as we’ll eventually do when our babes come. Why don’t you trust Royce?”

“I… It’s not that I don’t. I worry about Simone. You saw how she looks at him.”

“And he at her.”

“They’re going to use the birthing room for far more than her healing and his lessons. What happens when he leaves?”

“He may not.”

“Then what happens when he’s forced to stay here but wants to return home? I see nothing but tragedy in this for them.”

Tristan pressed her palm to his cheek. “That’s the risk one takes when attraction overrules good sense.”

“Unless love blossoms.”

“Yes, there is that.”

* * * *

Royce hated that Gavra’s unpleasant comments had ruined Simone’s good mood. However, he couldn’t argue with Gavra’s assessment of the man he was or her logic in wanting to keep Simone far from him. Simone had no business spending time at his side, hoping for something that couldn’t be.

If he got her and the others out of this mess, along with rescuing his mother and sisters, he’d disappear next. Didn’t matter to where, as long as he posed no threat to anyone ever again.

Simone scuffed her foot over the storage room floor, the kitchen close enough for muffled conversation to drift in here. Gavra spoke louder than the others did, though low enough to mask her words.

Simone glanced over, head cocked.

He hunkered near his birds. They strutted to and fro endlessly, as he would if caged. He eyed the sturdiest and the runt. “Oh no.”

Simone joined him on the floor. “What is it?”

“The largest one to the right. It doesn’t seem as well as the last time I saw it.”

“How can you tell? They all look sturdy to me.”

They were. He had no choice except to lie. “It wobbled a second ago. I noticed one of the other birds doing that on the Sea Sprite. It perished before the storm hit.”

“Do you think what we find in Tristan’s books will help this one get better?”

“Doubtful. That’s for people, not creatures. It may die.” That would provide an excellent explanation as to why he had one less bird, and might prove more convincing to Tristan than the thing having flown away.

Which it would once he slipped his message in one of the tubes Bishop had provided for this scheme. Royce had brought them here for the bird’s leg. He’d put the cylinders in a pouch and buried it on the beach long before Simone had discovered him. All he had to do was get to them.

Another hurdle to surmount.

She poked her finger through the cage. “We should give it more to eat and extra water. Maybe the poor thing is simply weak.”

“Perhaps, but please don’t get your hopes up. We can only do the best we can.”

He fed the creatures and hens quickly, then transferred them to another container so he could clean their cages.

Finished, he rubbed his hands on his breeches. “Before we get the books, I’d like you to show me the bushes where you gather the healing leaves and the other items for your poultices.” With any luck, they were close to the beach.

She made a face. “In the rain? We should wait.”

“The weather might not improve for days. We can use cowhide like Adamo did to stay dry.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “We can also be alone there, even more so than in the birthing room.”

She slipped her arms around him. “Oui.”

“Wait a moment. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“If Adamo and the others guard my room, surely they do the same with the beach. Tristan seems quite worried about anyone coming to the isle.”

“He is, and the men do watch, but not in this weather. James told Gavra only a fool would sail in fog with so much wind and rain. How would they see?”

“They couldn’t.” This opportunity was too good to miss. All he had to do was convince Simone to go to the beach.

He hated deceiving her. However, with her eventual freedom at stake, he had little choice. “Where do they keep the cowhides?”

“We have pig skins too. Much smaller and they weigh less.” She gathered two in light brown and handed him one.

He stroked her cheek. “Let’s make this fun, shall we?”

“After I show you the bushes?”

“Oui.”

“Are we going to the birthing room then?”

“I have another place in mind. A surprise.” He placed the skin over her head, did the same with his, and took her hand.

Wind whipped his shirt and her cloth, rain lashing in great sheets, the temperature mild and sticky. Thankfully, it wasn’t lightning. He pulled her close, protecting her from the worst of the shower.

They dashed into the nearby forest, the heavy vegetation serving as a protective canopy.

Sodden hair clung to her shoulders and breasts, the silk to her luscious legs. Laughing, she tossed the pigskin aside. “That did no good keeping me dry.”

“You’re lovely wet.”

“You are too.” She sagged against him and suckled his throat.

Her tongue warmed him better than spirits ever had and stoked his desire.

“You need another shave.” She touched his cheek. “You should let me see to the task. While I do, you can rest for your other work.”

“What say we try that in the birthing room when no one’s watching?”

“With our clothes off?”

“Is there any other way?”

Giggling, she broke free and ran ahead. He caught up easily, his arm around her waist.

“Here.” She pointed at the bushes in front.

“What is that?”

“Healing leaves. Periwinkle.” She swung her arm to the side. “Over there are other plants I use.” She indicated another direction. “And those are special herbs.”

Royce padded to the periwinkle. Despite heavy fog, he could see faint outlines below, indicating the point and beach. Beneath the rain patter and wind, the surf churned. “Is this where you were when you first saw me?”

“Oui. I was gathering new leaves after I tended to Henri’s hand.”

Royce turned into Simone and cupped her face. Raindrops clung to her lashes and rolled down her smooth cheeks. She regarded him with such trust and affection, he lost his resolve, wanting to confess everything, yet terrified to do so. His plan to put Bishop off for the time being had to work. “Were you afraid when you saw me?”

“I worried for you. I feared you had died or might.”

“We should go down there now.”

“Why?”

“To show nature I survived when she wanted me dead.” He pressed his face to Simone’s hair. Her scent filled him, a seductive mixture boasting sweet flowers, fresh air, and cooling rain. “To celebrate you rescuing me. Come on.”

He pulled her to the point and down the path. The surf broke higher than when she discovered him here, but posed no danger. Shielding her, he chose an area close to where he buried the tubes, the forest sufficiently thick to give them cover.

Panting, she sagged against a trunk.

Royce untied her drenched cloth and peeled it from her.

She smiled wantonly. “Is this the fun you spoke of?”

“Not yet…not until I have you exactly as I want.”

“How is that?”

“As my prisoner, captive for my use.”

She looked at her cloth.

He rolled it to resemble a rope. “Put out your hands, wrists together.”