Chapter 16

 

Simone couldn’t stop trembling. She joined the other woman in the dining area for Tristan and Royce’s talk about the coming trouble. Mothers held their children more closely than normal. The tiny girls and boys squirmed. Weeping, Jacqueline cradled her new infant to her breast.

Men filled the courtyard to hear the news regarding Bishop. After Tristan spoke, the islanders lined up on two sides. James and Peter went to each man, telling him what he had to do.

Simone collected healing leaves and herbs to treat the expected injuries. She had no preparation for death. Dizzy, she leaned against a trunk, offering her life to whatever god would listen and spare Royce.

“He cannot die, please. His mother and sisters need him. Take me.”

The islanders could always find another healer. Six-year-old Isabelle had already taken to following Simone at times, showing interest in plants that cured. Simone’s passing would affect Gavra the most. However, her love for James and their coming infant would give her a reason to live.

Royce would return to England with his family and find a white woman to love.

Men hurried past Simone to the point, reminding each other what steps to take so they’d survive.

She filled her bag with what she’d need and returned to the stone house to prepare and to wait.

* * * *

Royce, Tristan, James, and Peter huddled around a chart on the dining table.

“Bishop’s ship will most likely anchor here.” Tristan pointed.

Royce leaned in. “This is the only possible location? We have to be certain.”

“I’m aware of that. There are more spots, but his captain would be a fool not to use this. It’s ideal.”

“How far is the Lady Lark anchored from there?”

“Close but hidden in a cove. If they look hard enough with their glass, they should be able to spot it even in the dark. I wager they will. It will prove to them that they reached the correct isle.”

James had already drawn a larger version of the island on paper. His image bore crude depictions that represented trees and large rocks. “Where do I put the X to show the islanders where to go?”

Tristan made the mark for him and looked at Royce. “Can we believe Bishop’s note that he’ll leave no more than twenty men on his ship?”

“There’s no reason for him to lie unless he suspects something. However, he could change his plans during the voyage for reasons unknown to us.”

“We can’t send too many men there to take the ship. We need them here for those in the longboats.”

“Why?” Peter rested his elbows on the table. “Here, we have surprise. We can shoot them before they step foot on the beach, eliminating their numbers quickly as we would when hunting animals.”

Royce frowned. “Except they’re not that. They’re men. I know I said Bishop employs only the most vicious and they deserve to go down with him. Those were words said in haste and anger. Facing reality is far different, especially when it comes to murder. I didn’t become what I am because I enjoy this life. Nor did you, Tristan. As Diana pointed out, some in the crew could be as you and I are. What if they want to surrender?”

Tristan fingered the map. “They’d have to prove their loyalty to me and those on this island to remain here. Those who don’t will have to go to the isle where we sent Canela and the pirates. It’s the fairest solution I can offer.”

James held up his drawing. “Is this settled, Tristan? Nothing will change about it?’

“We stay with that. You and Peter choose the islanders who’ll mount an attack on the ship. I’d like to send more than twenty men, but we need an impervious force here to protect the women and children. Tell those you select to haul the longboats and skiffs to the location they need and ready them for the night in question. When the islanders strike, every man must have a pistol and spear. Those who have cutlasses must bring them. If the crew surrenders, the islanders can take prisoners. We’ll deal with them later. About Adamo. He’ll surely hear from his friends what they’re going to do. Under no circumstance do you allow him to join them. Although he’s eager to prove his loyalty to this isle, his infirmities will hold him back. I don’t want his death on my hands. He stays at the point so no can get past it to here. Tell him Zola needs his protection more than anyone else.”

“Laure too,” Peter said. “I’d like to stay behind and protect her, but my place is at your side, fighting to the death if need be.”

“You’ll go where I put you. No argument.” He pulled the chart closer. “From now until Bishop arrives, we do the same thing each day and evening, preparing for him, making our actions second nature. This attack must unfold flawlessly. The islanders, our women, and coming children are depending upon us. We can’t fail them.”

* * * *

Simone ate little that evening, Royce even less. They held each other in bed, neither of them sleeping. Days ago, she’d wanted nothing except truth. Lies seemed kinder now. Daydreams too. Imagining a full life, love, wearing a marriage collar, having his children.

A future without him meant nothing. She’d die willingly to see him safe and back home where he always should have been. “Tell me about England.”

“In what way?”

“Is there more than one to talk about?”

He laughed gently. “There certainly is. You have its history, what it looks like, the weather, the government, people, buildings, culture, amusements, wealth, poverty, laws, crime, no end of things.”

“Before your father hurt everyone, did you like this London where you lived?”

He eased her to the mattress beneath him. “If you’re asking if I regret coming here, then no, except for the trouble I’ve caused. Meeting you changed my life, including how I see things. Although England was my home and I liked it well enough, that was before I knew this isle existed. Bishop won’t best me. There isn’t a god that would allow such a horrible outcome. You’re not going to protect me either. If I have to, I’ll have Gavra tie you to your bed to keep you in this building.”

“She will never listen to you.”

“Then I’ll have Diana do it.”

“I’ll fight her and win.”

“Very well. If you show up on the beach to help me, I’ll be so worried about you I won’t be able to fight properly. While I’m keeping you safe, I’ll forget to protect myself, which will leave an opening for Bishop or his men to shoot, stab, or knock me down with a blow. Is that what you want?”

“You know it isn’t.” She punched the mattress. “I promise to stay here.”

“Merci.” He embraced her tenderly.

Her frustration drained away, replaced by desire.

Their searching kiss lasted until they both needed air. He pressed his cheek to hers. “Are you too tired for us to enjoy each other?”

“Never.”

He entered her lazily, as he would if they had endless time, not a few short days. He left his scent on her. She did the same with him. They joined in every possible way: their bodies, minds, hearts, souls. Hope shone in his eyes.

She masked her lingering doubt and surrendered to his warmth, the wonder of being his.

* * * *

The hours and days dragged by, driving Royce close to madness. He couldn’t sit still or think coherently, his mind going in too many directions.

The islanders’ tempers were short, everyone unsettled.

Each morning brought weather fairer than the last with intermittent showers and brief gusts during the afternoons.

Not enough to delay Bishop’s ship.

When Royce wasn’t on watch or helping the men prepare, he secluded himself and Simone in the library.

She regarded the passages he’d recorded from the medical texts on proper methods to stop bleeding, avoid infection, dress wounds, use tourniquets, remove bullets, save limbs. “What do these say?”

“I’ll be through in a moment and will read them to you. When you have the skill, you’ll be able to do so on your own.”

She lowered her face.

“Damnation, Simone. I will have the time to teach you. Don’t argue with me.”

“I said nothing.”

Didn’t matter. Her face told him she didn’t believe a word he uttered. He wrote furiously, taking his tension out on the paper and pen. “Done. While I’m speaking, stop me if you have any questions. If I can, I’ll find answers in the volumes.”

She nodded.

He read.

Her color drained. She held herself as one would when cold.

Royce didn’t stop. To save the injured, she had to know what to do. At last, he came to the final word. “Events may not come to this many injuries. The crew might surrender when they see our force. Bishop isn’t the sort anyone would willingly die for. We have that in our favor.”

She tightened her arms. “Read the words to me again. I want to be ready.”

* * * *

During their earlier preparations, Royce, Tristan, and James had determined how long Bishop would need to reach here.

That night had come, his arrival pressing close.

A crescent moon did nothing to chase away shadows in Royce’s chamber. Stars illuminated the sky, though nothing else. Inky dark ruled, perfect for an ambush from those here and for Bishop from a longboat.

Although Royce had been anxious for this moment, he didn’t leave his room just yet. He had ample time to reach his vantage point before Bishop’s ship arrived. Right now, Simone needed him more.

She paced ceaselessly.

Before she passed him again, he caught her and forced a smile. “I adore you.”

She held him tightly. “Be safe.”

“I shall. We’ll have tonight and many others to look forward to. Please believe me on—”

“Royce!”

Tristan.

Royce opened the door. “What is it?”

“Philippe just rode in from the longboats. Bishop’s ship approaches. He’ll anchor soon.”

“This early? Are they certain it’s his?”

“It damn well better be. We haven’t the means to fight two crews and battles. Get to your post. Don’t forget your torch. James and Peter are moving the men into position now.”

Royce embraced Simone a final time and flew down the hall.

* * * *

Never had Royce longed for darkness as he did now. The torchlight made him feel horribly exposed. A target. Once Bishop confirmed this was the correct isle, he only needed to know if the fabricated pirates had collapsed from drink, then where to find them, Tristan, and Diana. If Bishop didn’t have the patience for more conversation, he might order a crewmember to execute Royce immediately.

With him dead, there’d be no fee to pay. A good business decision.

He put the torch well away from his post, then crouched in the vegetation and gripped his pistol. The only weapon he allowed himself. He had to put on a good show for his guests, convincing them of his welcome, luring them more deeply into a trap.

Around him, foliage rustled from the damp breeze and men reaching their destinations.

Chirping insects competed with the rolling surf, both dreadfully loud. Something crawled on his calf. He flicked it off.

His pulse couldn’t have beat harder without bursting a vessel. He wiped sweat from his eyes and rolled his shoulders.

In the distance, something interrupted the scant light that shone on the water. He squinted.

An oblong shape neared. Others followed behind it.

He guessed each longboat held ten oarsmen, forty in all. Forty-one with Bishop. Counting the crew left on the ship, the men on this isle outnumbered them.

Either Bishop was a bloody fool for bringing a small force to fight eighty plus pirates, or his arrogance had convinced him he’d win against inebriated marauders. Given his greed, he might not have wanted to waste funds on a larger crew.

The boats reached shore.

Bishop sat in the rear of the first one, a seat reserved for a frightened little girl. Like Katie. Too young to understand what brutal men had done to her. Too innocent to realize what the future held. Intense loathing whipped through Royce for cruel men who didn’t deserve to draw another breath. Tonight, he’d balance the ledger in his favor or die trying.

Bishop struggled to his feet, giving Royce a clean shot.

The closest mariner glanced up, then pointed to where Royce stood.

He cursed himself for losing his chance. Shooting Bishop now and surviving the men’s return fire wasn’t likely. He fetched the torch and padded down the path.

Bishop lumbered forward, his belly leading the way, his full wig and clothing regal. Silk, velvet, and brocade in this clime. Sweat ran down his corpulent face. “Are all asleep?”

“Every last one.” Royce kept his voice as quiet as Bishop had.

“Did they imbibe?”

Royce smiled. “We had a celebration. They won’t recall anything tomorrow.”

“Dead men never do. Where are they?”

Royce pointed in the direction away from the mansion. Anyone unfamiliar with the terrain would run straight off a cliff in the dark.

“Very good.” Bishop gestured to the crew.

They raised their pistols at Royce. The man nearest him seized his gun and shoved it beneath his belt.

Bishop’s eyes narrowed. “Pity you won’t be joining us. I’ll send my condolences on your death to your mother and—”

“Damnation.” A mariner pointed his pistol. “There. In the bushes.” He fired.

An islander dove for cover.

Bishop’s men shot into the blackness. Screams rose. Someone hit? Dying?

A deafening screech followed, the islanders’ voices joined in a battle call demanding blood, retribution, justice.

Everyone seemed to shoot at once, the explosions deafening.

Bishop pivoted to the longboat.

Royce slammed him with the torch, igniting his shirt.

He bellowed and swatted the flames.

A bullet whizzed past.

Royce ducked and groped for Bishop’s pistol. The bastard fought him for it.

The weapon flew out of reach.

“Royce, here!” Tristan tossed a gun.

He caught it and advanced on Bishop.

The swine lurched back.

Royce followed. “This is for Simone, my family, and Diana.”

Bishop dropped to the sand and crouched like the coward he was. “Shoot him, you bloody fools!”

“They can’t. They’re busy dying.” Royce shot Bishop square in his forehead.

He dropped back.

Natives felled the intruders nearest them. More islanders swarmed from the vegetation, pressing in on the crewmembers. Several dropped their pistols and sank to their knees, arms raised.

Others fought.

James shot one. Adamo raced down the path and fired on another, hitting him. Peter wrapped his arm around a man’s throat and wrestled him to the sand.

“James!” Tristan pointed at the path. An escaping crewmember pushed past Adamo and raced to the point.

Simone shot out from the trees and swung a large branch, hitting the man’s belly. He doubled over. She pummeled his head and back.

Royce tore up the path and pulled the limb from her. He pointed his pistol at the mariner. The man didn’t move.

“I felled him.” She smiled.

Royce wanted to scream. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting you. You’re bleeding.”

Blood covered his left arm. He didn’t recall getting shot nor did he feel any pain. “Hide in the forest until I return. I must go back.”

She grabbed him around his middle and held on. “Tristan and my people have the others.”

Several men were on their knees, hands raised. Some lay dead. Island men surrounded the injured, their pistols, cutlasses, or spears lifted to keep the mariners from trying anything.

Tristan looked over. “Peter.”

“Aye.”

“Come with James and me.”

They ran up the path. Tristan stopped at Royce’s side and frowned at the blood. “How badly are you injured?”

“Not much. I can move my arm and fingers.”

“Go back to the house and tell Diana we had success here. We’ll ride to the ship now to help the other men.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. Stay there. Take Peter with you.”

“What? Me? Why? I’m going with you.”

Tristan clamped Peter’s shoulder. “You faced the worst and came through unscathed. That’s only because I shot the bloody bastard who was getting ready to kill you while you were on the sand with the other mariner, acting like you two were the only ones on God’s earth. I can’t watch you and save my own hide in the bargain, so don’t press your luck. I’m certainly not doing so with mine. Anything happens to you, Diana will never forgive me. You know how she is. I’d rather face a pistol than her wrath. Go.” He shoved him. “Where’s Adamo?”

Simone pointed to the beach.

Tristan shouted, “Adamo, you’re in charge. Please have the men fetter the prisoners and bring them to the courtyard.”

“What do we do with the dead ones?”

“Put them in the sea. Bishop first.”

“May he rot in Hell.” Royce wrapped his arm around Simone’s shoulders and led her to the mansion.

* * * *

Simone treated Royce’s injury in the dining area. The wound was shallow and stopped bleeding quickly. Nevertheless, she trembled. “You keep getting hurt here. You have to stop doing that.”

He laughed.

Diana and Gavra glared at him. Their men were still outside, facing danger. Both women circled the table. Round and round they went, making Simone dizzy. “There were only twenty white men on the ship. Far less than those who came to the beach. Tristan and James will not get hurt.”

Royce frowned at Simone. “How do you know that?”

“I talked to my goddess. She saved you. She listens to me again.”

“No. I meant, how did you know how many men would be on the ship?”

Simone shrugged. “I listened to you and Tristan.”

“You eavesdropped.”

“What is this eavesdrop?”

“You damn well know. You also disobeyed me and came to the point.”

“I stopped the man who ran away. I protected you.” She gave him a stern look. “I can do what I want.”

He sagged in his chair.

Gérard rushed into the room, dark hair flying. “Tristan sent me.”

“Why?” Peter stood. “Does he want me to join him?”

Diana shoved Peter back down. “What did Gérard say about Tristan?”

Royce translated.

Gavra ran up. “Is James all right?”

Gérard nodded. “No one is hurt. Once they see to the white man’s ship, they’ll return here.”

* * * *

In the courtyard, Simone treated the injured islanders and crewmembers by torchlight. Royce stood guard, protecting her. When it came to healing, she proved a stronger person than he’d ever be. She didn’t flinch at blood or hesitate to dig bullets from arms, legs, or shoulders.

Gavra and Follie offered the men food and water.

When given the option of staying on this isle or lifelong service to natives on another, seven prisoners chose to remain here. Of those, Heath Garrison was the most civilized, a strapping young Englishman. After thanking Follie for the food, he asked if he could help his mates in any way.

“Stay put.” Royce pointed his pistol. “You and the others have to prove yourselves before you can move freely.”

Heath lifted his hands. “Understood.” He ate quietly, his gaze averted from the females.

Many of the unwed ones peeked at him.

Royce sensed trouble. The same he’d faced when Simone had stolen his good sense and heart with little effort.

Tristan joined him. “We need to have a word. James, Peter, and the other men will keep Simone safe while you’re inside. Come on.”

They went into the library. Tristan closed the door. “Thank you for killing Bishop.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to if not for you. Why didn’t you take the shot?”

“You’d earned it by being a good man and friend. I’ve been speaking to Diana…or rather she’s been speaking to me.” Tristan moved a bookcase away from the wall as Simone had done with the armoire. He pulled out a red silk bag and tossed it on the table. “That’s yours.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and pearls as big as birds’ eggs spilled out, along with gold and silver jewelry. A fortune. “Is this for killing Bishop?”

“It’s to free your family and bring them back to England. That should easily support your mother for life and allow your sisters to move in the right circles so eligible gentleman will offer marriage.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Where do you think?”

The gems were larger than any Royce had seen. “This is too much.”

“I have far more. I hoped to give everything to Diana. She only wants the diamond marriage collar and me. About Simone.”

Royce straightened, prepared to fight if need be. “I love her. Not that it’s any of your business. Don’t try to talk me out of it. You can’t.”

“I came to that conclusion when I discovered you were using the priest’s room for your trysts. What do you plan to do about her?”

Royce touched an emerald the size of a baby’s fist, a plan forming. “I want to take her with me.”

“To England? You’d expose her to ridicule from those who’ll never be half the person she is. I doubt she’d want to endure that or leave Gavra, even for you.”

“I know and that’s not what I meant. You’ve given me a way out of my dilemma.”

“Which is?”

Royce dropped into a chair. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”