A Pirate’s Wife (25 page)

place, but you always were the gentleman.' The group

laughed gruffly. Roberto did not comment but poured all

the glasses and sat back, taking a sip of his own.

'So, she is in good health?'

'Yes.'

'You don't offer much, Roberto. Are you hiding

something?' came the low, impatient reply.

'No, Falcon.' Roberto met the Falcon's glare head

on. The Falcon's eyes swept between him and Pierre but

neither elaborated on anything.

'How is Pedro?' Roberto asked instead, and a smug

grin appeared on the Falcon's face.

'The little sneak got away. How I still don't know,

but I will get to the bottom of it soon.' Pierre and Roberto

looked at each other briefly before they placed their

attention back on him. 'When did this happen?'

'Two days ago,' and he snickered, 'but don't you

worry, we will get him. The patrols are canvassing the

island as we speak.' He slapped Tiny on his small

shoulders. 'And then it is playtime.' This caused Tiny to

smile widely so that you could see the empty gums, the

beady eyes sparkling with glee. But he said nothing, as

always.

'If you don't mind, I want to go to my hut make sure

everything is acceptable so that I can join the search,'

Roberto said as he drank the last of his wine

'Yes, of course, but when will I meet the ransom?'

Falcon asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand.

'Soon.' Both he and Pierre got up and left the hut.

Nothing was said between them but each had a grin

on their faces. The plan was under way.

Soon, Falcon,
both thought.

18

Two days passed before Rosa-Lee finally saw a

longboat rowing towards the
Contra O Vento.

In all this time, she had neither heard from nor seen

Roberto or Pierre. She paced their cabin nervously. She

was not sure what was going on, but she felt uneasy, and all

the uncertainty and doubts settled in her mind. She kept

thinking of all the evidence against the man she now called

husband.

Her pirate.

She loved him. That much she knew.

He was not acting like the pirates her father told her

about. The cruel ways of their existence was not a part of

him, or of Pierre, for that matter. The two were best friends

but they rarely spoke about themselves, never let her in on

the bond they shared.

Then there was that letter she had delivered to the

Captain of the D.E.I.C ship. Why would a pirate hand a

D.E.I.C captain a letter? It did not add up.

His persistence in reminding her that she must trust

him because everything was not as it seemed caused more

questions. He was a pirate, strict and fierce, although she

had seen a side of him that she doubted other people were

privy to.

He was an exceptional lover, tender at times, brutal

at other times, but he always adored her. She felt safe in his

strong arms and she smiled, wrapping her arms around

herself. She missed him fiercely.

His love of good books was evident. The rows of

books on the shelves were worn at the corners from years

of reading. His knowledge of the world astounded her. He

had seen most of the known world, which she only heard

from her father or had read about.

He had a love for both land and sea as he talked

about the farm, the land, his country and his parents. He

loved them, missed them and still talked about his sister

reverently.

He knew the seas, the currents, and every kind of

cloud and what it meant. He knew when to be fearful of the

sky and prepared or just dismiss it and call its bluff or, as

he called it, 'a pout of the heavens,' nothing to be afraid of.

Then there were those dreamy hands that made

magic over her skin, the smile that lit up his face, causing

the scar to disappear into the laugh lines, the glow of his

passionate eyes when he made love with her, coaching her.

Her tender loving pirate. Her heart ached because of

her unexpected love for him. It was the not knowing that

drove her to pacing. Enrico kept her company the best he

could, but she knew she did not make it easy for the

chamber boy, hardly listening when he told of his past life

before he joined Roberto's crew.

The pirate ships lying at anchor all around her

unnerved her, menacing and dark, holding secrets she was

sure she didn't wanted to know, the world of her husband.

Sometimes he would tell her stories, but she was

sure he toned it down, not to upset her, but she did have a

healthy imagination and she could read between the lines.

After all, her father did tell them stories as well, stories that

were fearful filled with terror and horror. From her father

they were stories that other people lived, yet now it was

different. Roberto lived them, making it all real. The scars

proved that.

Then there were the women. Her husband was

virile, that she knew, and to imagine him in the arms of

others made her blood boil in jealousy. They had known

him, enjoyed his lovemaking long before she was in the

picture. They had taught him the things he was teaching her

now and it did not sit well with her. She had not mentioned

it to him and knew she had to work through it if she wanted

to continue to trust him.

The men made sure that she stayed hidden in the

cabin so as not to attract any unnecessary attention. The

crew was on alert all the time. Tension hung like a thick,

unseen blanket in the air. They were ready for anything, but

it was not good for her nerves. The not knowing, not being

out there created more nerves.

Her stomach clenched and when she woke the

morning of the second day she had to run for the chamber

pot. Sweat rolled down her trembling body and the moment

Enrico saw her he called for the doctor. She was pale and

worn out.

The doctor encouraged her to eat often; if not for

her, for the new life she carried.

As the long boat bumped against the hull Rosa-Lee

finally got herself under control and went to the upper

deck.

†††

Pierre stepped on the upper deck with heavy boots

and the men were glad to see him, meeting him with toothy

grins. He was also a good man and the crew respected him.

He had a self-assurance about him that made him attractive.

Rosa-Lee had also seen loneliness in him and often

wondered about it, but over the past four months, he had

never once spoken about himself. The same vibe that she

had from Roberto she also had about him, he also did not

match the description of a pirate, yet he was one. He

laughed easily and was pleasant to talk to.

'Are you ready, Señorita?' All familiarity was gone

and they treated her like in the beginning. She had also

noticed that they did not call her Señora. There must be a

reason for that. She was sure it would become clear later.

'Yes, Señor, I am,' she replied, stroking the dress

she had chosen with care, a pale blue taffeta which

enhanced her creamy neck, shoulders and bosom. The

bodice was hand-stitched with fine needlework. It clung

around her and she found it difficult to breathe but it gave

her the necessary courage to do what was expected. Her

waist was cinched small, according to the latest fashion.

She patted herself on her still-flat tummy as if to remind

herself what was at stake.

They helped her into the long boat. The boats man,

who was unknown to her, looked at her with a lustful grin.

His eyes roamed over her body and she felt shivers running

down her spine. She did not meet the arrogant stare.

With precision, they rowed to land. Rosa-Lee felt

small as they passed the menacing ships. Men whistled and

cheered them on as they passed, but she kept her head

down, cringing under some of the vulgar comments. Pierre

touched her on the back, unnoticed by the rest, reminding

her that he was there and she knew she was safe with him

around.

They landed and for the first time in four months,

she was back on solid ground. Her legs felt unsteady and

almost out of place but soon the feeling of stable firmness

of the land returned and she walked steadily behind Pierre.

Her eyes were on his boots.

Men watched her, following her with greedy,

hungry eyes. Pierre had tied her hands together with a

blank look, pulling her behind him; she said nothing,

looked nowhere in particular, and made no eye contact with

anyone.

Men tried to grope at her but Enrico, who walked

behind her the whole time, removed their hands with ease,

protecting her. Unbearable smells welled up in her nose,

and she had to fight very hard against the nausea that made

her want to double over. She had to swallow a few times to

get it down but remained calm, willing herself to breathe

controlled breaths.

After about fifteen minutes of walking through the

throng, they came into a clearing. Men stood all around her,

looking down at her with piercing, hungry eyes. Stifling

smoke filled the air. Her eyes burned from it and Pierre left

her alone, but she could sense Enrico behind her and was at

ease.

She looked around, searching for the man she loved,

and when she saw him between a few men, she wanted to

call him. Roberto stood out tall and strong, far above them,

looking at her with a blank stare as if he did not know her

in this world. She remembered his words and repeated to

herself,
He loves me. I know this, trust him.

Suddenly there was a light buzz in the air and in her

vision another man stepped up, large and menacing. Fierce

words assaulted her.

The Falcon, she guessed. The nose was a dead

giveaway to the name. He was huge, and she had to lift her

head to look at him towering over her. His teeth were

yellow, signalling his unhealthy lifestyle and an ugly grin

was on his face. Handsome was not a word used in the

same sentence with this man. He was extremely rough. His

face had a leather-like look from years of exposure to the

elements.

He looked at her; the grin reached his eyes but made

it more sinister.

'Ah the sister, finally. Ah, but you are pretty.' With

rough hands he took her chin in his hand turning her head

to both sides. She could not help herself and shivered.

He did not let on that he noticed it and continued

'Your brother did not lie. You are pretty.' He roared

with laughter and the men joined in, except Roberto. He

stood there emotionless, looking straight at her, not missing

anything. Disgust filled his eyes as the pirate touched her.

'Where is my brother, you bastard?' she hissed,