Elizabeth Boyle (114 page)

Julien was still out cold when they rolled him over and Roger began the process of cutting his shirt away. Maureen helped strip it, leaving Julien’s back bared to clean the gaping wound. His injury looked terrible, but it wasn’t the hole in his shoulder that caught her attention.

It was the
T
branded on his other shoulder.

“What is that?” she gasped, shocked at the hideous mark burned into his flesh. She’d felt that scar the night they made love, but he had told her it was nothing.

Now she saw how “nothing” it was.

“The brand?” Roger said, rather too nonchalantly. From the looks of the way the man worked, he was used to sewing up the wounds from battle. “He’s had that for some time. I thought you knew.”

She shook her head. “Who did this to him?”

“The bloody Brits,” he said. Looking up at the two British noblemen still in the room, he made a rude noise in the back of his throat. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lords.”

Webb nodded at the man, obviously as transfixed by the ugly scar as Maureen was.

The wound looked old, as if it had been there for some time, but he hadn’t had it when they married. She was almost afraid to ask, but her desire for the truth drove her further toward her suspicions. “Where did he get this? He’s not a criminal; he’s never lost a fight.”

“Only one.” The man reached for the basin Aunt Pettigrew had brought in and then opened his case to take out a probe. Without looking up he began the slow, laborious work of pulling out the bullet.

“How . . . where did this happen?”

He didn’t look up but answered in his usual gruff tones. “With a British branding iron. As to where this happened, the same place we all received one. Jamaica.”

“All of you?” she asked.

Julien’s men, several of whom had poked their heads in to see how their captain fared, nodded.

She looked at Lord Trahern and Lord Weston for an explanation, but they both shrugged, obviously as puzzled by this as she. “Whatever for?” she persisted. “Why would any of you be branded traitors?”

Roger snorted and looked up from his work. “For you. Because he married you. When he married you and took his vow with the Alliance, he broke the agreement he had with the British. We all did.”

Even though she’d told Julien she believed that he had tried to stop the British slaughter of the Alliance, she hadn’t really let go of her memories. It seemed to her impossible to reconcile what she’d seen that day with Julien’s assertions that he’d tried to stop the slaughter.

“You and I were both there,” Maureen said to Roger. “The
Destiny
fought the Alliance. Julien sent the British word, brought them to the cay. Helped them destroy the Alliance.”

Roger shook his head. “If you had stayed on the deck a little longer that day, you would have seen that our cannons were not aimed at your father’s ship or any of the other Alliance ships. We moved in line with the British to get in close enough to cripple them. Not unlike what we did today with your ship.”

She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. All these years she’d clung to her mistaken beliefs, her anger, and now it was starting to dawn on her that she’d been wrong.

Terribly wrong.

“I was there. I saw the battle,” she whispered. At least she thought she had. “How can what you say be true?”

The man shrugged and went back to his work. “Tell that to the men of this ship. When Julien came to us and asked us if we were willing to switch sides, everyone agreed. The Alliance offered us a better chance of growing rich than the paltry blood money the British had offered for your father’s head.”

She still couldn’t fathom it. Julien hadn’t betrayed her father; instead, he’d tried to save him. Just as he’d told her—aboard the
Destiny
and here in London.

Why had she been so willing to ignore the truth? Even now she tried to make sense of it. “But they came. The English. I saw a man row out to inform them.”

“You saw a traitor,” Roger spat. His brow furrowed, and then with a sucking sound and rush of fresh blood, he pulled out the lead ball. He held it up for all to see and sat back, letting the wound clean itself with a fresh rush of blood. “The one man who betrayed us. All of us. What Julien didn’t know when he’d joined on was that he was actually a British officer, placed on the
Destiny
to ensure we completed our mission. He volunteered that night to take false information to the awaiting ships.”

“And instead he told his superiors where we were.”

“Aye.” Roger reached for his needle and thread and began stitching up the wound. “They came in at dawn. And you know what happened next.” He knotted the thread and began closing the ragged flesh.

Aunt Pettigrew, ever the perfectionist when it came to needlework, leaned over his shoulder and then nodded with approval at the dark, even stitches.

“After the battle was over, they surrounded us.” Roger clipped the thread and leaned back in his chair, studying his work with a practiced eye. “Threatened to blow the
Destiny
out of the water. We’d been able to cripple the frigates, but we were no match for the others. Julien struck our colors rather than allow any more bloodshed.” The man paused. “I think if he’d known the hell we were in for, he might have tried to fight it out. We spent six months in a Jamaica prison for treason. Each one of us was branded so we’d never forget what we did. We escaped two days before we were to be transported to Botany Bay.”

Roger took the basin and strode across the room. Tossing the contents out the window, he looked back at Maureen. “He’ll probably be out for some time. Watch him for any signs of fever. I need to check on my other patients.”

Then the brusque man left, leaving Maureen as shocked and stunned as if she’d just had a bullet plucked from her body. From her heart.

The others, obviously sensing her need to be alone with her husband after this revelation, followed the doctor out of the cabin. Charles, the last to leave, closed the door behind him.

She gazed down at the man she’d thought she knew and realized how wrong she had been. For all these years. Wrong about Julien, wrong about everything.

Her fingers reached out and traced the
T
on Julien’s back.

The mark of a traitor.

She was the only traitor in the room, for not trusting him. For not believing him. For not following her vows, for believing with her eyes and not her heart.

She retraced her memories of that long-lost day and saw it as Roger had described it.

If only she’d stopped and let Julien explain. If only she’d had her mother’s courage to see past the insurmountable evidence of a court-martial.

She laid her head down on his branded shoulder and wept.

Julien gauged it was early morning when he opened his eyes and saw light streaming in from the windows of his cabin. His shoulder ached, but given that he was undressed and in his own bed, he had a feeling the pain in his shoulder was just the remains of Roger’s work.

The ship rolled softly, as if it were moored near shore. He wondered how long he’d been out and where they were.

The door slid open, and soft footsteps trod over the door. He closed his eyes so it appeared he was still asleep. The person worked about the room, and when he peered between his shuttered lashes, he saw the unmistakable form of Maureen bent over one of his chests, pulling out maps and charts.

“So you didn’t slit my throat last night.”

She jumped and turned around. Her face looked as pale as if she’d seen a ghost. “Julien,” she whispered.

The tenderness and love in her voice were tinged with something else. Something he couldn’t quite discern.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“A harbor near Dover. I’ve used it a time or two for smuggling.” She laughed, though again there was something in her voice that marred the humor. “I never thought I’d be smuggling into England three of its peers. They are just about to go ashore.”

Relief swept through him. Webb, Giles, and Charles would be safe now. And though he wondered when he would ever be able to see his family again, at least he could rest easy knowing they were home.

“Your nephew is being a regular blood about going ashore.” Maureen leaned closer. “He’d heard some of the men discussing the
Bodiel
and decided he wanted to try his hand at privateering. I’ve threatened to send him off in irons if he doesn’t set a better example for Ethan.” She smiled at the memory and then reached out to touch his face.

Her fingers stopped just short of his jaw, and in her hesitation he finally found his answer.

Regret
.

Her eyes were filled with regret.

The gaze that had haunted him for so long, the color of which he’d seen only in the waters off the West Indies, now looked down at him with understanding that at first he didn’t comprehend.

Then he realized. With his shirt gone she’d seen more than just his wound. “You know.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I saw the brand when Roger was tending you. He told me everything.”

Julien turned away. “I didn’t want you to find out. Not until we’d come to an understanding. I wanted you to love me because you wanted to. Not because you felt you had to.” He let out an exasperated breath and glanced back at her. “I know that sounds odd, but what I am trying to say is that I know you. You’re an incredible woman, Reenie, but you are stubborn. I knew given time you’d love me again. At least I hoped you would. And if you could find it in your heart to love me again, I wanted you to come to that on your own. Then I knew you’d be willing to listen to the truth and forgive me for my mistakes.”

She nodded. She wouldn’t have believed him, trusted him. She’d been so set in her ways. But he’d tackled her hatreds, her misperceptions, in the only way he knew how.

A steady course through the turbulent seas of her heart.

He reached for her, and she came to him, her lips eagerly touching his. For a time they kissed and allowed the world around them to drift away. They murmured promises that they knew this time would last forever, and when it seemed they couldn’t get enough of each other, the door to Julien’s cabin swung open.

“Mother!” Ethan’s shocked voice reverberated through the room.

Obviously, his son had never seen his mother kiss a man before. That pleased Julien more than he cared to admit.

“I came to say good-bye,” Ethan said, this time shyly, as he crossed the room, his curious gaze flitting between his two parents as if he was still unconvinced about this notion of having both a mother
and
a father.

“You’re going with your uncles?” Julien asked, sitting up abruptly, his gaze swinging to Maureen for confirmation. He wasn’t about to let Ethan leave, not just yet. Not when he finally had the chance to get to know the lad.

But one glance at Maureen told him this was the only way.

“It’s for the best,” she said softly. “At least until the war is over. Until we can guarantee his safety with us.”

“And where are you off to, son?” he asked Ethan.

“To Uncle Giles’s house. And Aunt Pettigrew is coming as well,” the boy said, climbing between his two parents. “Cousin Charles says he’d teach me to ride this summer and how to sail.” He grinned at both parents. “You should come with me,” he said hopefully.

Julien shook his head. “We can’t. Not now. But we’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

“Yes, very soon,” Maureen told him. “We’ll miss you every day.” She turned her gaze to Julien. “It is for the best,” she said, as if trying to convince herself. “Especially given that one day you’ll inherit so much more than I ever thought you might.”

“Hawthorne Hall.” Ethan grimaced. “What do I want with some old pile like that?”

“You’ll want it for your wife,” Julien told him.

At this Ethan looked horror-stricken. “A wife? I’m not going to ever get married. When I grow up I’m going to be a smuggler and a privateer.”

Maureen laughed and ruffled his hair. “Oh, you might find something else you like better.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Julien told her. “I made the same vow when I was about his age.”

Charles appeared at the doorway. “Ethan, it’s time.”

Julien struggled to get up, and ignoring the irate looks Maureen sent him for rising from his sickbed without her permission, he caught up a shirt and tugged it on.

Above-deck the day had dawned bright. After one last hug and kiss from Ethan and strong, heartfelt handshakes from his brothers-in-law and nephew, he watched them row ashore. He reached out and took Maureen’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“We’ll have him back with us soon,” he promised. “If I have to negotiate a peace treaty myself.”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. They stood on the deck and watched their son until he was safely to shore and bounding up the beachhead, his small hand tucked into that of his newfound cousin.

As soon as the longboat returned, Julien started issuing orders.

The wind was freshening, and down the coast was Portsmouth.

And the Halifax-bound
Bodiel
.

“Do you think we still have time to catch her?” Maureen said, sidling up to him as he stood by the rail, looking out toward the open sea.

“We have to. I need that gold. I have a ship to buy. To replace my wife’s.”

Maureen laughed. “You don’t owe me another ship. What do I need one for? I have no intention of ever setting foot on anything other than the
Destiny
’’ She looked up at him. “That is, if you’ll have me?”

He gazed into those azure eyes and knew this time he wouldn’t have to worry what the fates would bring them as he made his vows to her for a second time. “Aye, Reenie. I’ll have you. From this day forth …”

T
he dark shadows of the moonless night hid everything. Clouds masked even the stars. The wind had picked up in the last hour, bringing the waves crashing up on the small beach, muffling the sounds of the men working to off-load the kegs of brandy and the bales of tea from the longboats onto the waiting wagons.