Beyond paradise (8 page)

Etienne winced internally. This again? "Ah, well, you see, I..." Etienne's smile brightened as his thoughts raced. "I... feel that we have a special kind of love."

She lifted her chin to take a curious peek at his eyes.

"Yes," he said, "a very special kind of love. The kind where ... where we are beyond mere convention, where we need not pander to trivial rites of passage, where ..."

"There's a special kind of love in which we don't need to meet one another's family?"

"Yes, yes. It's the ... the most powerful kind there is. It's the kind that makes soldiers go to battle for a woman, the kind that makes princes betray their thrones, the kind that makes ..."

".. . women be sent away to the country to give birth in private?" she speculated. "Etienne, are you married?"

"Married?" He laughed. "Why ... why .. ." His laughter became exaggerated and loud. "What a silly thing to say!"

Arlette's eyes narrowed. "I think you are," she said, aghast.

Etienne grabbed her elbow before she could turn to flee.

BEYOND PARADISE

71

"You have no idea how wrong you are," he told her. "Nothing could be further from the truth"

Arlette felt tender under his grasp. Though he was a slim man, and not at all a handsome one, with his long, narrow chin and crooked teeth, he had a way of making her feel feminine and beloved. From a distance, she would never have found him so tempting. But the more she had met with him, the more often he had spoken with her and touched her, the more she had become blinded to his looks, and drawn instead to his charm and prowess. She wanted to believe his story. "You're not married?" she asked cautiously, her eyes drooping weakly to the path beneath their feet. Couples were winding around them, trying to avoid the confrontation, trying not to let it interrupt their own romantic evening.

"Of course not," he laughed. "I am only betrothed."

She spun around to flee.

"Wait!" he called, refusing to let go of her elbow. "It is only a marriage, not a funeral. I do not plan to stop meeting other ladies."

She closed her eyes against impending tears of humiliation, and continued to pull.

"Hear me out!" he demanded. "Hear me out."

She stopped her struggle and looked plainly at the hand which bound her. "Let me go."

"Not until you hear me out."

She said nothing and held still, for there was still a piece of her that hoped.

"My love," he began, attempting to kiss her hand, though the hand was kept from him. "This is what you do not understand," he pleaded. "You see, a man is not like a woman. It is not in our nature to plant seeds and then wait for them to harvest. For you, that is normal. You want to nurture the seed, to stand by it, to wait for it to blossom, and that's what's

Elizabeth Doyle

so special about you women. But we men need to plant seeds and then go out and plant some more seeds. Plant and roam, plant and roam. That is our lot in life. It is only civilization which requires us to go against our nature and to stay put. But man cannot fight his nature. We were made to conquer, to wander, and to be free. Now, naturally, you women would have us all stay put, and we cannot blame you for wishing. But you must be realistic. A man who stays put is not a man at all."

Arlette's tender face had grown bitter during the course of his lecture. "Speaking of men who are not men at all..." she began, but she did not finish. She'd had enough humiliation for one evening.

"Don't go!" he cried.

"I must. I must return before my parents find out that I am gone, and learn what a fool I have been."

"But I have not finished!"

"Oh, you are finished," she assured him. "No one has ever been quite so finished as you are."

"But, my love!"

"Don't 6 my love' me."

He jogged after her for a few moments until he realized he looked a fool. When he was certain that she would not turn back, he called, "Plant and roam!" to the rear of her head. "You cannot fight it, Arlette."

"Then consider it time to roam," she spat, and then disappeared frantically into the crowd.

Jervais had been watching with a great deal of amusement. He tried not to laugh when he cleared his throat. Etienne was startled by the sound of his baritone voice. "Huh? Oh, hello there. I, uh . .. women. You know how they are."

Jervais chose not to respond to that. "I, uh . . ." He tried to regain his composure. "Sir, I believe we have met, but please allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Jervais Tremblay."

BEYOND PARADISE

73

"Yes. the pirate hunter, it is my pleasure/'

With a nod Jervais went on hurriedly, "Monsieur, I have some rather distressing news to deliver."

"Yes? What is that?"

"1 have come to speak to you about your fiancee, Sylvie Dav^t.''

Etienne's face darkened. "What has she done now?"

"Sir " Jervais bowed his head most reverently, "I am sorry to be the bearer of ill tidings, but she has been kidnapped by a pirate whom we know to be dangerous."

"What?!" Etienne struck a pose that was something between indignant and suspicious. "How?"

Jervais dared not tell him the whole truth—that he had taken her to the jail in an attempt to entertain her fancy and win her admiration. He thought that might be best kept from her fiance. Though seeing the pathetic groom-to-be, fresh from the chase of another woman, standing pale and thin, with barely enough muscle to hold himself erect, made Jervais all the more determined that Sylvie should not be given to him. He had met Peridot once before, and had borne no judgment, but at that time, he had not considered the man in connection to Sylvie. Even when Sylvie had described her fiance, his memory of Etienne had not been strong enough to draw the connection. But now that he had laid eyes upon the weasel who had been given the woman Jervais himself wanted, his unfavorable assessment was fierce. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid there was an escape from the jail. Mademoiselle Davant was taken hostage, and we shall have to set sail to find her. Pirates always assist their own escapees. We've no doubt that she is already at sea."

Etienne cursed. The shame of it was unthinkable. Ravished. That's what she would be by the time she was found. And worst of all, everyone would know it. His parents were forcing him to marry for her blasted title. And truth be told, he

Elizabeth Doyle

had no real objection, though she dressed like a pauper. He still found her most appealing, and looked forward to the first night in their marriage bed. Sylvie had a pleasant way about her, and would undoubtedly be a cool, soft presence in his home. He would even go so far as to say that in his own way, he had feelings for her. But did she have to get herself ruined? "She was undoubtedly out gallivanting as usual," he remarked, "instead of at home, studying her needlepoint and her homemaking."

"I should say that's rather beside the point," Jervais answered darkly. "The point is that she is in danger, and I am assuming that you want everything possible to be done, that you want no expense spared and no stone unturned in the attempt to bring her back safely."

Etienne's face was blank.

"I am also assuming," Jervais went on, "that you will wish to join us as we hunt her down and bring her abductor to justice?"

Etienne went pale. "Uh . .. well. .. wouldn't that be ... dangerous?"

"Yes," said Jervais through intolerantly gritted teeth, "I imagine it will be."

"Well, uh . . ." Etienne stroked his tiny beard, seemingly deep in his calculations. "I've never been much of a sailor."

Jervais could no longer hide his scowl. It was in his nature to despise weakness, and he thought his burning, dark eyes might explode if he had to stare at the likes of Etienne for one minute more. "I assure you," he managed to say calmly, "that my men and I will do the sailing. I thought you might merely want to accompany us in the actual raid."

"What for?" he laughed nervously. "What will you need me for? It isn't that I'm afraid, mind you, or ... or that I don't want to help Sylvie, but... well, you're a fighter, aren't you? Can't you do it?"

n

BEYOND PARADISE

75

Jervais scowled. "Yes/' he said, "of course I can. If that is what you wish." There was a little smirk on him then. He had thought offering the opportunity to Etienne was a gentlemanly act, that giving him the chance to be a hero was a proper gesture in reverence to his position as the lady's fiance. But now he realized with dark delight that Etienne was giving him permission to be the hero, to rescue Sylvie and to receive her admiration and gratitude. What a fool he was. Didn't he know that no woman could resist a man who proved his strength in battle? That no woman would return to an absent fiance after another had saved her from danger? "I would be delighted to assume that task," he said.

"Well, good. It just makes more sense that way."

"I shall relate that message to Sylvie. Now, there is the other matter, the matter of funding." He peered at him cautiously, for this was an important matter, indeed. "I shall need to hire a crew," he said, "and you are, well, the most appropriate source of such funds."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes. I'll have my parents provide you the money. I'll tell them I need it in addition to my allowance."

Jervais controlled his smirk by pressing his tongue into the corner of his lips. "Very well," he said. "I thank you for your .. . time." He bowed and backed away, breaking into a full smile the moment his back was turned. In Sylvie's eyes, Etienne was going to look the blubbering fool he was, and Jervais was certain that he himself would win her. He would win her gratitude, her admiration, and best of all, her love. For what woman was not attracted to sheer strength? He was sure that this voyage would win him not only her heart and her flesh, but her hand in marriage. For how could her parents refuse, after he had singlehandedly rescued her from such danger? Yes, Jervais felt very confident. Sylvie Davant would undoubtedly become Sylvie Tremblay.

n

Nine

When the pirate ship came into view, Sylvie was rendered speechless. It was a square-rigged barque, its sails shining golden in the setting sun. They were filling with evening wind, but unable to flow because of the anchor which held them at bay. A strip of peach gleamed on the horizon, cutting across a navy sky which collided with the turquoise waves. It all seemed just a backdrop, a stage for the starring vessel, as ominous in its frantic rocking as it was glorious with its holy, golden glow. "Is that a pirate ship?" she asked, a sleepy, dazed look in her eye.

The pirate did not answer.

She turned to face him. "Is that a pirate ship?"

"Yes," he replied. It had been a long time since they'd spoken. His silky voice, his awkwardly precise pronunciation surprised her again, as though she'd never heard it before.

kw It is beautiful." She wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, warming herself from the evening wind, relaxing against his chest. It had been an adventure she would never forget. In fact, she was not even sorry for it. She had wanted to taste

Elizabeth Doyle

life before she waved good-bye to it in the form of marriage, and so she had. She had witnessed a grand escape, felt the fear of being held captive, the tender and tickling sensation of riding horseback so near a man's lap. And finally, she had seen a pirate vessel. She sighed a wonderful sigh. "Strangely, sir, I am glad to have met you." But he did not seem to hear.

He was signaling the pirate vessel, which in turn was lowering lifeboats. "They'll pick me up now," he said, "and take me to the ship. Just as soon as I'm safely on my way, you can go." He leaped from Monique and helped Sylvie down. There was soft delight in his woodsy eyes, and Sylvie understood it. The ship must have been home to him, for he looked as one who would finally find peace. Sylvie stroked Monique's mane with affection. What an adventure they'd had together.

"Ahoy!" called someone from the boat, but the pirate did not respond until they began waving. At that point, he returned the wave fervently with both tanned arms.

"I don't think I ever even learned your name," she mentioned, fearing that he was about to depart, and that she would never know the name of the pirate in this story of a lifetime.

He squinted at her from the corner of his eye, still grinning at his shipmates, only gradually granting her his full attention. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I said I don't know your name."

"Oh, uh ... Jacques. Jacques Dupree."

To both of their surprise, the little boats were carrying not only a few ordinary crew, but a man who could only have been the very captain of the ship. Even Sylvie could tell that. While the others wore old cotton shirts with the arms torn off, breeches that did not fit, and kerchiefs around their brows, this man was dressed in fine black silk and a matching hat. His dark hair was long, luxurious, and natural. He wore no wig. Sylvie had seen enough Spaniards to know that's what he

n

BEYOND PARADISE

79

was. He was impressive, in a frightening sort of a way, and handsome, in an untouchable sense. Jacques looked as surprised to see him as Sylvie was. When the rugged sailors tugged their boats through the sand, he greeted them all with affectionate punches and a curl to his lightly stubbled lip that made Sylvie bite hers. Then he turned respectfully to his captain, who was being helped to shore like a king, and said in a language Sylvie did not understand, "Sir, it was not necessary to row to shore with the men. I am honored, but I am sorry for your trouble. I would have come aboard soon enough/'

The captain replied, "I wanted to see you. I feared you would not escape this time, that you would be dead for certain."

Jacques lifted a corner of his mouth. "Well, as you can see, I am fine." He scratched his strong chest. "A little thirsty, though."

Captain Roberto chuckled. "I think it's fair that we should have you for a veritable feast this evening. We've all missed you. We were just about to give up, and I'm glad we did not." He patted his sailor affectionately on the raw back.

One of the men made a fist at Jacques, and then opened his hand in a strange gesture. Jacques responded in kind. The best Sylvie could tell, they were making signals at one other. They must have been old friends, for at the end of it, they both laughed. And she couldn't guess for the life of her why. She tried to smile along, for some instinctive reason, and that's when the captain noticed her. "Oh my," he said, stepping toward her. She instinctively feared his approach. He was a large man, and dressed in a most sinister manner. His beard and mustache did an excellent job of covering his otherwise handsome face, and that made him look a bit suspicious. But none of that is what caused her fear. It was his confident, rigid shoulders which made him look like a wall rolling to-