CHAPTER SEVEN
CAPITAINE GAMPONETTI FINALLY woke up!
Eva held her breath, waiting for him to react. Until he said or did something to indicate his current state of mind, she wouldn’t be able to tell if he was coherent or still demented. If he was still under the influence of the tonic, the restraints should hold him.
Strangely enough, he remained silent...not a comforting sign.
He should be demanding his release. Blustering with outrage.
At the very least he should ask why she attached him to a bed, or demand to be released, which she expected since he seemed the type of man accustomed to giving orders. And having them obeyed.
She stared, baffled. Why didn’t he say anything? His eyes were open and alert, no longer unfocused. In fact, they were quite wide and decidedly focused. On her.
Was he frightened? Certainly not. More likely contemplating his next move, or command. Maybe both.
Odd. Perhaps the tonic left lingering effects, after all. She thought the man had a much more courageous constitution.
Or...maybe he was quiet because he already suspected the reason he’d been tied down, and was preparing an argument or a threat. Did he remember exactly what happened? Did he remember groping her breast?
Did he remember the kiss?
Lifting her chin, she gave him her most indignant look, which was challenging given the fact she trembled beneath her robes.
“Do you know why I restrained you, capitaine?” Her voice came out sounding harsher than she intended. Just the thought of that stupid kiss had her flustered, raising her ire as well as her voice.
His Adam’s apple jerked up and down. Heavens, he was as pale as sun-bleached bones. His eyes shifted to the dagger on her stool then widened into a glare.
Eva straightened her shoulders; she would not be intimidated by his glares or his dark reputation. She would have her say and he would listen.
Perhaps she should reiterate her question. “Capitaine? Do you know why you are restrained?”
He glowered, opened his mouth, shut it, coughed then spoke with a chilly calm. “I believe I might suspect the reason.”
Oh dear. So, he did remember, and from his tone, didn’t condone her actions. “Then you should understand why the restraints are necessary until I am certain you won’t duplicate the offense.” She awaited his apology. She certainly deserved one.
“Well,...Sister,” he carefully chose his words. “I think perhaps you might have...slightly...overreacted.”
How could he possibly believe that?
“Capitaine, your actions were appalling!”
He should be ashamed, begging her to forgive him, although at the moment she had a hard time even considering forgiveness. This inflamed the guilt because a woman in her position should be able to pardon readily. Unfortunately, she had a harder time than most with that particular grace. She could now also add “lying” to the list.
Insufferable man.
Conceited brigand.
Irritable bully.
And ridiculously thick-headed, if he believed she over-reacted.
He reddened. “I can understand why you would say that sister, but surely you’ve known other men who’ve exhibited the same behavior...”
“Not here, capitaine, I assure you.” The gall! What kind of man assumed she’d be familiar with other men who greedily fondled women of the church?
His brows jumped up and he looked around the room. “Well, not here. I didn’t mean to insinuate the abbey would ever...”
Eva’s cheeks were probably as red as his face. How naive to think he might be somewhat honorable. She gritted her teeth. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed. There ought to be a stiff measure of guilt mixed in, which would satisfy her greatly, although it wouldn’t exonerate him.
Not in the slightest.
Guilt was a powerful weapon. Sister Beatrice, an expert, wielded it with uncanny precision. Perhaps now was the time to utilize the same tactics.
“You behaved in a most disrespectful manner, capitaine, and I am more than a little offended.”
He sighed and the edges of his mouth tipped down. “For that, I beg you, accept my sincerest apologies, Sister Eva.”
Oh, no.
It wouldn’t be that easy for the scoundrel. She rose from her knees and picked up the knife, then perched on the stool. If he wanted her to cut him free, first he would hear her plea, and if he had any bit of respectability, feel obligated to assist her as penance, or to assuage his guilty conscience for forcing a lustful kiss on a novice nun.
And it was indeed a lustful, lustful kiss.
Her lower belly rippled under the surface of her skin.
“I’m afraid, Capitaine Gamponetti, your feeble apology isn’t what I want from you. Not entirely, anyway.”
God’s blood!
Drago fought the desire to start jerking at his bindings like a leashed animal. Where in the hell was Julian? If he shouted for him, would he hear and come to his aid? He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it burst into his head. She had a dagger on her lap. He couldn’t risk the boy being injured or killed.
He’d rely on his quick mind and smooth tongue. Negotiate, talk her into reconsidering. Perhaps he could offer her something she’d appreciate more than his bollocks; something to which he wasn’t so...intimately attached.
“Sister, you must--“
“I beg your pardon, capitaine, but I think we can both agree I’m the one in control at the moment, can we not?”
He mashed his lips together to keep from saying something he shouldn’t.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of castrating him. There had to be another tack he could take. Think, think, think. In the meantime, delay her from taking any drastic actions. Do anything to placate her.
Anything.
He nodded slowly. Keep her calm and that knife as far away from his jewels as possible. “You are indeed in control,” he ground out as calmly as he could. It didn’t help he wanted to spank her with his numb right hand until the feeling came back into it and the sense came back into her.
A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes a tiny bit. “Excellent, I will talk, and you will listen.”
He snapped his mouth shut. No woman had ever spoken to him like this. Or man for that matter. He clenched his jaw hard enough to make it burn.
Look pleasant.
Nod frequently.
Her expression sobered, and she leaned forward. “I need your cooperation and assistance with something very important.” The candlelight glinted off the blade in her hand, dappling his crotch and the body parts in jeopardy. Now God was playing cruel, vindictive tricks on him.
His tongue nearly tripped over his teeth. “Of course, sister. I’m happy to assist you in any way possible.” At this point, he’d commit to anything, whether he vowed it or not.
A startled expression crossed her face before she brightened and smiled. “Thank you, capitaine. I’m so relieved to hear it.” She inhaled continued, “I discovered a plot to steal sacred relics from the Saint Louis Cathedral in New Orleans. I know this because Father Andrew and I tended a dying man who was given this task by the French King.”
Drago closed his eyes and gave a mental groan of frustration.
Moreau. The missing agent.
He confessed in the presence of a nun from the St. Louis Cathedral of New Orleans. The idiot.
Of all the horrible luck.
If Moreau revealed the names of the other agents, then she’d known all along he was connected to that mission. What did she hope to accomplish now? Talk him out of his obligation to the King of France? He’d lose more than his nether parts if he failed to fulfill his duty.
A sharp steel blade attached to a guillotine frame came to mind.
He swallowed. Surely she didn’t plan to replace the stolen relics with his balls?
He had to learn how much she knew. “The Frenchman died, so the plot likely died with him,” he said carefully. If Moreau gave her names, he’d find out now.
But she shook her head. “It did not die with him. He was given this the task along with three other agents. The problem is, he mentioned no names, so I don’t know who they are, only that there are three of them.”
Drago’s relief was short, mainly because she continued to run her fingers over the knife handle as she spoke. Horribly distracting, and it made the insinuation quite clear.
In addition to being in command, the nun was definitely light in the head. Worse, the fate of his balls lie in his ability to charm the weapon from her.
“Capitaine Gamponetti, I have an important request.”
“I want you to understand that I will agree to do anything you ask of me, Sister Eva.”
Just please don’t turn me into a eunuch.
She released a long sigh. Her sapphire eyes flashed and she once again leaned forward. “Capitaine, will you give both God and me your word that you will help?”
“I give my word to God and to you that I will help,” he said solemnly.
At this moment, he didn’t care what she wanted, he would promise it. The sooner he escaped this abbey, the better off he would be.
Crazy nun notwithstanding.
Eva was ecstatic the man was being so agreeable. “Capitaine, once we get back to New Orleans, I need your additional assistance in a very important matter for the church.” She waited, barely able to contain her trepidation and fear of his refusal.
While she didn’t approve of the way Miss Kalia’s tonic worked, she was beyond pleased with the results. Capitaine Gamponetti had indeed bent to her will. God answered her prayers, and yet again Miss Kalia’s uncanny ability to predict Eva’s future was horrifyingly accurate. “We cannot wait.”
He was already nodding. “I’ll do my best to help you.”
“Truly?” Eva chewed her lip.
The captain’s gaze turned flinty. “My word is my vow.”
“Good.” This forced him to adjust his trade route, and miss the opportunity to bring in a healthy amount of revenue. It was a lot to ask. She shoved her guilt aside. Her cause outweighed a hefty purse.
Far greater.
He shifted. “I also have some much needed supplies I must purchase while in Negril Bay. The Dragon will sail as soon as possible.”
A nagging agitation wiggled in Eva’s belly. That could be a ploy to delay. What if he was lying and had no intention of helping her? Would he go back on his word after giving it to a member of the Ursuline order?
Quite probably.
She glanced around the room and caught sight of a Bible resting on a low shelf near the headboard.
Decision made, she gave him one more careful scrutiny. The affect of the tea seemed to be completely gone. She prayed he wasn’t simply going along with her demands--requests--because he was confined and not because his intentions were honorable. Her old self would have believed the former, but if she was to become Sister Eva, the newest Ursuline novitiate, she would work to believe the latter.
Faith.
She gripped the dagger, rose, and approached the bed. The captain’s throat convulsed as he stared at the nicked blade. She sawed through the rope securing his right hand to the bedpost. As soon as it was loose, he shook it then moved it lower to hover above his...his...belt. She swallowed, a bit chagrined at keeping him restrained for so long. He must need to relieve himself by now.
She would hurry.
The cord around his left ankle untied easily. The right ankle’s knot proved to be more difficult, but she managed if after a few minutes. As soon as she freed his leg, he crossed it over the other.
Not wanting to hold him much longer, she offered the Bible. “Will you swear an oath upon the Word of God to complete this mission for God’s church?” Even pirates had to have some sort of code about swearing on a Bible. At least she hoped so.
He hesitated, almost as if he were reluctant to move his hand. His gaze froze her breath. If he’d been lying to her, he’d likely not swear. If he did, she’d just have to trust him to keep his word. As long as he took her with him, the worst that could happen, would be his refusal help prevent the robbery. She could perhaps persuade some parishioners to guard the sacred bones, if she became desperate.
His eyes darted to the knife and then back to the Bible. What did he think she would do? Stab him if he refused?
Well, she might consider it if he tried to kiss her again.
The kiss.
Do not think back to the kiss. In fact, never think about the kiss ever again. As far as using the blade, even in her former life, she rarely needed a weapon.
Perhaps there might have been a time, when she was younger, when she’d thought differently, when she trusted people less, when she had to fight wild dogs for scraps, a dirk came in handy. The Ursuline sisters had taught her about compassion and faith, that the Lord loved and protected her; even still, she had hoarded crusts of bread and slept under her cot in the abbey for many months.
Eva focused again on the pirate. “Capitaine? Will you swear to help me complete my mission?”
He closed his eyes, heaved a great sigh and placed his hand on the book. “Yes, sister. As soon as I deliver my cargo to Negril Bay, I will return and take you to New Orleans.”
“And help prevent the theft of the relics.”
His nostrils flared. Flint-colored eyes locked with hers, he spoke as if he had a mouth full of rocks. “And help you prevent the theft of the relics.”
“There.” She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”