Page 17

W hen Fonteyne returned to his cabin, he found Rose seated at his desk with her boots propped up on the corner of the desk.

He stared at the flecks of dirt beneath the leather heels for a moment, then chuckled softly and went to the sideboard, where he poured two full measures of rum. He handed one of the cups to her, then dragged the chair from the dining table and turned it to face the interloper.

“Now then?—”

“Would you mind opening some of the gallery windows? The air is dreadfully damp and musty in here.”

Fonteyne considered telling her to open the damned windows herself, but in the end, he obliged.

When the slanted windows across the stern were swung open, they could hear the rush of water creaming in their wake as the Black Wind began to ride the wind. Gulls were circling and screaming, following the ship, persistent in their hopes of catching any discarded scraps.

Fonteyne settled into the chair and took a deep swallow of rum. The gash on his brow had begun to throb, but he allowed no outward sign of discomfort.

“I confess I did not hear the entirety of your conversation with your gun captain, but I did hear mention of fireships. You were not, I trust, so vexed with Lafitte as to plot sending a fleet of them into Barataria Bay?”

Rose leaned back and smiled. “An interesting idea, but hardly practical. The Bay is what, five? Ten miles long?”

“Thereabout.”

“I had a smaller target in mind.”

“I am all ears.”

Not quite, she noticed. With his hair pulled back she could see that he was missing the upper curl of his right ear, likely shorn off by the blade of a sword.

“I plan to sail up the Florida Straits and look for the fleet the British are sending to invade Louisiana.”

He took a slow sip of rum before setting his cup carefully on the table beside him. “And if you find them, what then?”

“Ideally, I would like to blast them out of the water.”

“There could be a hundred ships in the fleet. We have three.”

Rose noted the use of the word ‘we’ but chose not to draw his attention to it.

“The missive advised there were ten vessels on their way. And, as I said, attacking was what I would like to do. If that’s not possible then perhaps there is something that can be done to slow them down or lower the odds slightly. ”

“Is that why you were asking about fireships?”

She flung his own words back at him. “I am an inquisitive bastard. I like to consider all my options before deciding on my course. I suspect the British are already aware that their eighty-gun ships-of-the-line would be of little use; their deep draughts would prevent them from crossing the Mississippi delta or sailing up the river. My guess is the majority will be sloops and light frigates carrying troops who would have to establish a base first at Pensacola. Despite it being Spanish territory, the British already have a foothold there which would give them the option of attacking New Orleans by land. That’s assuming, of course, they plan to attack the city first.”

“Where else would they be planning to attack? There is nothing of value along the coast of the Gulf, nothing but marshes and swampland on either side of the Mississippi.”

“Not quite nothing,” she said, tipping her head.

The throbbing in his temple was obviously slowing his thinking process and it was a full minute before he understood the anticipant look in her eyes.

“Barataria,” he said.

“Huzzah,” she said softly. “As long as Lafitte and his fleet of privateers has a commanding presence in the Gulf, the British will be wary of him allying himself with the Americans.”

“Thus far Jean has shown no preference in favoring either side. In fact, he would be quite content to sit back and watch them destroy each other.”

“Because regardless who wins or loses, there will be profits to be made in the aftermath?”

“Exactly so.”

Rose tapped her fingers lightly on the desk.

“Had he given me a few more moments of his precious time, I might have been able to tell him that amongst the papers we found on board the Hyperion was a letter showing they were aware of the dispatches Lafitte has sent to General Jackson, warning him of the disaster that would befall the southern states should New Orleans be captured. Apparently, he has repeatedly urged the general to send troops to reinforce the city and I do not imagine the British were well pleased to discover the content of those letters.”

Thoughtful eyes searched hers as he contemplated her words.

“That would explain the warrants for his arrest. What isn’t as easily explained is why you appear to be so casual about jeopardising the interests of your family.

Your father’s business operates in the Indies by way of letters of marque issued by the Crown.

They could easily be revoked should he, or any of his family, be seen to openly support the Americans.

Or to throw their lot in with Lafitte, for that matter.

Your brother has already proven that his loyalties lie firmly with the Crown.

She pursed her lips and tapped a finger idlly on the desk. “Both he and Father are forced to walk a very fine line.”

“Whereas, by sailing to Barataria and offering your services to Lafitte, you appear to have leaped right over it.”

“My actions do not reflect on my family.”

“Your name does.”

“As your M’sieur Sauvinet noted, my name does not appear on any charter, nor deed of ownership, nor any letters of marque. All of those bear my husband’s name.”

“That was going to be my third question,” he said quietly.

After considering her next words for a moment, she stood and walked over to the bank of gallery windows to stare out at the following sea.

“Terrance Whitticomb and I were married for all of three months. He was from good, solid English stock, and exactly the type of man my mother wanted … nay, expected me to marry. She believed he would settle me into the life of a happy little wife serving tea on the veranda and forgetting all about my passion for the sea. It would also avoid bringing any further embarrassment to the family, because you see …apparently someone had seen a man coming out of the garden house the morning after the governor’s ball, followed closely by myself looking visibly …

dishevelled. Since I refused to give a name, Mother sent for Terrence and put us in front of a minister a week later.

I protested mightily, of course, but I was only seventeen and not quite as brazen as I may have made myself out to be.

” She glanced over her shoulder and offered up a half-smile.

“You would have to meet my mother to understand why one does not argue with her. At any rate,” she turned back to the window, “We were immediately sent away, out of sight, out of mind, to celebrate our nuptials in Jamaica.

“Unfortunately, Terrance caught the yellow fever. I returned to Tobago, to the loving and sympathetic bosom of my family, only to be told I was to be sent to London, out of sight, out of mind again. I slipped away that very night, took command of the Cygnet— which had been part of the dowry—bribe—wedding gift or whatever you want to call it— and sailed out of port. I’ve not been back to Port Louis since. ”

She felt Fonteyne’s presence behind her, felt the air seem to shift and shimmer like heat waves around her. Every nerve ending in her body prickled to attention, the ripples spreading with every warm breath that bathed the back of her neck.

“I am sorry. I had no idea.”

“How could you know? You skulked away like a thief and I watched you and your ship sail out of port without so much as a by your leave.”

“Which was exactly how I saw the British frigate leaving with my men on board. I had no choice but to leave on the instant if I hoped to catch him.”

He was too close. His body was too warm, too solid, and when he placed his hands on her shoulders, there was only a thin layer of linen shirt to keep the memories from flooding back.

The heat from those memories shivered downward, flowing through her body like ribbons and tangling together in the pit of her belly.

She twisted abruptly out of his grip and walked back to the desk to retrieve her cup of rum. “It is over and done, Captain Fonteyne. I am content with how my life has turned out.”

His hands remained in mid-air, cradling a phantom pair of shoulders. Then his fingers curled and he lowered his arms and turned. “Happily for you, the inconvenience of a husband did not last very long.”

“I did not wish any harm toward Terrence. He was actually quite sweet. And even-natured. He did not storm about like a black cloud.”

Fonteyne smiled slowly. “I have no doubt you would have been content to spend the next forty years appreciating that sweetness while you served tea and exchanged gossip with a flock of plantation wives.”

“I would have thrown myself off a roof first.” She took another swallow of the strong spirits and slammed her empty glass down on the desk. “You really are quite arrogant, you know. Not to mention condescending.”

“Some women find those qualities exciting. As you apparently did, at one time else why would you have dragged me into that garden house?”

“As I said, I was seventeen and foolish. And you were not dragged, sirrah. You walked rather eagerly to your doom on three legs.”

His smile turned into a soft laugh. “Doom? Aye, that it was, for I will admit to more than a few sleepless nights when I wrestled with the notion of returning to Port St. Louis.”

“God spare me, surely that is not an admission of being in possession of a conscience?”

“Not in the least, madam. I would have liked to return to give you a few well-needed lessons on toying with someone who should not be toyed with.”