The Jezebel (4 page)

She lay down on the bed, as her emotions dipped and churned like the waves beneath the ship. The uncertainty of her journey was quickly overtaken by the imminent unleashing of her most powerful magic. Hope fluttered inside her.

I will find a path home to my kind. I will forge it.

For years she hadn’t wanted to return to Dundee, after witnessing the horror of her own mother’s death. Nevertheless, Scotland called to her—called to the purest part of her soul, reminding her that she could be free and whole in the far north of the Highlands.

The journey had begun. Exhaling, she felt the tension in her body begin to unravel.

She would seek out her kin—her twin sister, Jessie, and her beloved brother, Lennox. Homeward bound, she was on her way. As she drifted into sleep, she thought of them as she’d known them years before, children running barefoot in the forest, picking flowers and herbs for their mother, who used those gifts to teach them her craft, rooting the ancient ways in them. Maisie pictured Lennox as a wily, rebellious lad who cared for his sisters nonetheless. And her fey twin, who was wilder even than she. Had they thought of her as she had of them?

Let them be safe and free in our birthplace,
she wished as she drifted toward sleep, hoping that she would find them there. So many years had passed since they’d been torn apart. Too long. Pain twisted inside her as she remembered the day.

* * *

On the day her mother was put to death on a charge of witchcraft, Cyrus Lafayette and his wife, Beth, claimed Maisie Taskill.

Maisie and her sister had been forced to watch their mother stoned until she was close to death, before the villagers forced her upright to stagger to the gallows, where she could see her own funeral pyre as the rope went around her neck. The villagers decided the lad, Lennox, was too far under the devil’s influence to be saved. They said he should be destroyed.

Maisie heard every word they spoke about her and her kin, and a deep part of her became locked in a prison of fear and horror in response.

The villagers decided the two girl children were young enough to be redeemed, if they were taught the wrongness and evil of their mother’s ways. So it was that Maisie had been placed on a pillar at the kirk gates alongside her twin. With the church at their backs and the persecution of their mother before their eyes, they were supposed to learn what was wrong and what was right. Both girls learned what was wrong, because they balked at what the villagers said was right.

Maisie had struggled to stand upright on the stone pillar, but had kept her silence as she had been ordered to do by the people gathered there. Her brother had already been dragged away, lashing out and cursing the villagers. Jessie had whimpered and flailed, and Maisie wanted to go to her sister and help her, but could not.

Instead, the two of them were made to watch, made to suffer every wound and insult as their mother suffered. When she tried to turn her face away and close her eyes, Maisie was prodded by the man stationed nearby, his task to force her to observe.

Maisie had all but fainted from the horror unfolding before her when a man in coachman’s livery pushed through the crowd and lifted her down from the pillar. The villagers did not stop him.

Maisie could not even attempt to break free, for she was in shock, petrified by what she had witnessed. The coachman had a scowl on his face and a whip in his hand, and she’d believed she was about to meet the same fate as her mother. However, the man held her tightly to him, with both arms around her, as he made his way back through the crowd. He did not speak, and Maisie had been so afraid, she could scarcely understand what was going on around her.

He took her to a coach, and a grand coach it was. When the door opened, she was taken from the coachman’s arms by another man. He stood her on her feet in the interior and examined her before indicating the coachman should close the door.

The din of the crowd grew muffled once the door shut. Maisie trembled violently, her legs buckling under her.

The man put his hands beneath her elbows, easily holding her slight form in place. Then he forced her to look at him directly by putting a finger under her chin.

Maisie’s first glimpse of Cyrus Lafayette was not reassuring, for he was an imposing man with dark hair and intense green eyes.

“Your name is Margaret?”

She nodded.

Interest flickered in his eyes. He seemed to approve of what he saw. Instinct warned her that he knew what she was. Maisie could see it in his eyes and she shied back. But he smiled, and his eyes glittered, as if he was pleased.

“Poor child,” a woman’s voice behind her said, and Maisie found herself drawn backward into a comforting embrace. Shivering with fear and shock, she barely felt the woman’s touch and could not fight it. Lifted onto the woman’s lap, she was rocked to and fro. “We have saved you, child. You will come and live with us, and no harm will befall you.”

The coach had set off, and Maisie remembered hearing the coachman ordering people out of his path, shouting and bellowing and urging his team to a faster pace. Was it true? Was she really safe? She turned to look at the woman who held her.

Beth Lafayette smiled. With pale blond hair and a gentle smile, she seemed kindly.

Eventually, Maisie reacted, speaking for the first time in several hours. “My brother and sister, Lennox and Jessie, are they coming with us?”

“They will find guardians, too, never fear,” said the austere man, who sat opposite. “But your life is with us now.”

“I have always wanted a beautiful girl child like you to call my own,” the woman told her, and tears shone in her eyes. “Even though you are not of my blood, I would be greatly pleased if you would call me Mama Beth.”

Feeling the woman’s emotion and gratitude, Maisie closed her eyes, attempting to blot out the images she had seen, and gradually taking the comfort Beth Lafayette offered.

And at first it was good and it was safe.

But Cyrus had not collected her simply to fulfill his wife’s wish for a daughter.

Cyrus Lafayette had plans of his own for Maisie Taskill.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cyrus Lafayette meshed his fingers together as he paced up and down the polished wood floor of the drawing room. He had to keep his hands that way in order not to throttle the young coachman who cowered before him. The urge to snap the servant’s neck was far too tempting.

The coachman shifted uneasily. “Please, sire. With your permission I will go back and ask again, see what I might find out.”

“No.” Cyrus paused and examined the man again, looking deep into his eyes. Was there something he was hiding, something else that he knew about Margaret that he was not sharing? Cyrus saw only fear, dim wit and incompetence.

The fear that shone in the coachman’s eyes branded him a fool, in Cyrus’s opinion. If the man had any sense of self-preservation he would speak more confidently, offer to lead Cyrus to the scene of Margaret’s disappearance, instead of looking as if he was about to turn on his heel and run.

Pain needled Cyrus’s eyes, the result of his barely withheld rage. He had to keep a rigid hold on it. He couldn’t afford to let it overcome him, not now. “Tell me again what you witnessed, from the beginning. Salient details only. Do not embellish.”

The coachman swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I was waiting to escort Miss Margaret to the theater, as instructed. At the appointed time I went inside, announced that the carriage was ready and inquired her whereabouts from the housekeeper. Miss Margaret was said to have dressed for the theater, but was nowhere to be found. When I stepped outside I believe I caught sight of her climbing into a carriage at the corner of the street. I wondered if she had forgotten I was there to take her to the opera. I thought that perhaps she’d hired a passing carriage instead, when she didn’t see me. I quickly followed. My concern grew when I realized the direction the carriage had taken was away from the theater.”

Cyrus interrupted the coachman. “You intended to stop the carriage?”

That’s what he’d said on the first telling of the story. Cyrus’s levels of suspicion and mistrust were so acute that he was ready to string the lad up and beat the truth out of him if even one detail differed from before.

The coachman nodded. “Unfortunately, I lost it in the maze of streets in Billingsgate. I secured the coach and then went by foot, but could find no trace of the carriage I’d seen. However, there was a mighty commotion down there by the dockside. Navy men and soldiers were everywhere, so I followed them to see what it was about.”

“You say they were after the captain of a merchant ship?”

The coachman nodded. He clung tightly to the hat he held in his hands as if it were a shield and he would be safe behind it. “I asked one of them, who said it was a ship by the name of the
Libertas.
But he knew nothing of a young lady who might be lost down there. In the chaos there seemed no hope of anyone having caught sight of her, alone or otherwise.”

Cyrus frowned. Alone or otherwise. Why would she be down there alone? Did Margaret have a secret rendezvous? He could scarcely believe it. No, that could not be the case. He gave her no time in which to nurture friendships that were not conducted under his watchful eye.

The coachman rattled on. “But I wended my way through the place, looking for her, and I was about to give up when I thought I saw her crossing onto a ship, with a man close behind her.”

Cyrus ground his teeth. The darkest question of all reared its ugly head again. Had she run into the night to a secret friend? Or worse still, a lover? The raw anger he felt doubled in response to that thought. For years he had nurtured that girl.
She is mine and mine alone.

“I will return to Billingsgate,” the coachman offered, glancing at the doorway, eager to be on his way.

“No.” Cyrus glared at him. “I will send others. Men who are more adept at seeking out information.”

The man lowered his gaze to the floor. “Forgive me, sire. I know that my task was to watch over Miss Margaret when you were not doing so yourself. If you forgive me for saying so—” he dared to lift his gaze, cautiously “—it was as if she slipped away into the night.”

Cyrus lifted his brows in query. He was starting to detest the sight of this inept young man, a worker whom he’d been assured was reliable and astute when he was hired as third coachman to the household the year before.

The man stumbled on. “Perhaps Miss Margaret did not want to go to the theater.”

Cyrus gave a harsh laugh.

The coachman recoiled, his hands tightening on the brim of his hat.

“If Miss Margaret had not wanted to attend the theater she was at liberty to say so. I am not a tyrant.”

The coachman gave him a wary stare.

Cyrus twitched. “Did she give you any reason to suspect she might run away tonight, or at any other time during your employment here?”

The coachman shook his head.

“She has never slipped away from you before?”

Again he shook his head. Then he frowned. “She went for a walk earlier today. I heard of her intention and readied the carriage, but she insisted she needed no companion other than her lady’s maid.”

Cyrus lit upon that. Mayhap he would have more success gaining information from the maid. This dolt appeared useless. He wanted to dismiss him immediately and have him thrown into the gutter, but he could not rule out the possibility that the young man might as yet furnish them with something useful. It was necessary to get someone else to deal with it, however. The urge to make the young man suffer some part of what he himself was feeling was growing too great.

Cyrus snatched the man’s hat from his grasp and threw it aside, then pointed at a nearby chair, into which the coachman slumped.

Standing over him, Cyrus forbade the man to move. “Miss Margaret is the most valuable thing in my life,” he said, lowering his voice in an effort to convey the importance of his comment. “You will stay here and be prepared to repeat the details of your sorry story to anyone who enters this room tonight. There may be many, for I intend to hire all the best men I can find. I will raze London to the ground to find her if I have to, and you might hold the only information that can stop that from happening.”

The coachman looked suitably rooted to the spot.

Cyrus headed for the door. As he approached, it sprang open and the housekeeper entered.

“Master Lafayette, it is Mistress Beth. I fear she is near the end.”

Cyrus grimaced. He had nothing left to say to Beth, who had been near her end for days now. He nodded briefly. “Make her as comfortable as you can. I have other matters to attend to.”

The housekeeper looked at him in dismay, disapproval flickering at the back of her eyes. “Begging your pardon, sire, but she is scarcely breathing.”

Cyrus gave the servant a warning stare.

The woman dropped her eyelids.

Rightly so, and heaven help anyone else who stood between him and Margaret. Pushing past the housekeeper without further ceremony, Cyrus left.

* * *

Under limited sail the
Libertas
passed out of the Thames estuary and into open seas. Only then did Roderick breathe easy. It had been a near miss back there at Billingsgate. They’d had similar scrapes many times before, of course, but it was essential they were not stopped now. They were due in Dundee to meet with Gregor Ramsay, the fellow shipman with whom he owned the
Libertas.
Roderick had been ready, though. If he’d been arrested back in London the men were under strict instructions to sail with the tide without him.

“Full sail,” Roderick instructed.

Clyde relayed his orders, scurrying about as fast as any of the younger men, despite his hunched form and his advanced years. The man refused to rest. He also refused to make his home on land, swearing he would end his days at sea.

Men leaped at Roderick’s command, climbing the rigging.

More sails unfurled, quickly capturing the wind. He turned the wheel hand over hand, held course and inhaled the salt on the air. The creak of the boards and the snap of spar and sail reassured him, for they were a heartbeat that raced in concert with his own. Married to the sea, he was, and it was where he felt at peace. He directed the wheel awhile longer, then handed it over to Brady, the first officer. “Bear northeast awhile longer, then we turn full north.”

Brady took the wheel, but stared at him, making it obvious he had something on his mind. Roderick could already guess what it was. Brady was waiting until they were in open waters before he confronted him, but the leaden stare had already conveyed enough.

“Do you intend to inform us about your passenger,” the officer eventually said, with sarcasm, “or are we supposed to pretend we did not see the woman you brought aboard?”

Roderick frowned. He and Brady often held each other to account in Gregor’s absence, but he did not appreciate the challenge in the seaman’s tone. “The woman needed passage to return to her family home in Scotland. Would you have me leave her alone in London?”

“We take no passengers, especially not a woman.”

Roderick bristled. “I am the captain of this ship, and if I deem it necessary on occasion, you will accept that and act accordingly.”

Brady shook his head. “Since when has a woman swayed you so easily, Roderick Cameron?”

Again he frowned. Brady’s comments needled him, for Roderick was determined his captainship would be a resounding success. In the six months since Gregor had been away from the ship the men had answered well to him, yet only days from reuniting with Gregor he now risked having the crew turn against him.

“What a spectacle you made, arriving with a slip of a girl in tow and God knows how many men after you.”

“Enough!” Roderick barked. “Think on this. What if she was your sister, desperate to find her way home?”

Brady left that hanging in the air between them a moment. “But it was not your sister you were thinking of when you brought her aboard,” he finally said with a wry smile. “I saw the way you looked at her as you took her below deck.”

“It is easy for you to judge, when you have a night with your wife to look forward to.”

“A fair point, I’ll allow,” Brady said with a mock bow. “As long as she gives the men no trouble, I will back you up and remind them of...what was it?” He gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, yes, their
sisters.
”

Roderick was about to reply when Clyde appeared at their side.

“I gather from the raised voices that you quizzed him about the Jezebel.” He directed his question to Brady, and followed it up with a chortle.

The Jezebel.
Roderick gave an internal groan. It was what Clyde called all women, but it only served to implicate Roderick.

“I did, and he said he was thinking of his sister.”

Clyde chortled again. “That Jezebel is a whole lot prettier than any sister of yours would be,” he said to Roderick. “Lord help any woman saddled with your looks.”

“I was concerned for her safety,” Roderick insisted, “and she is a Scot.”

Clyde rubbed at his beard. “Concerned for a warm bed tonight, I wager.”

“How is it you have survived so long at sea, when you show such cheek toward your captain?” Roderick snatched the eyeglass from Clyde’s hand and turned away to scan the waters behind them, straining his eyes in the darkness. There was no sign of lights on the water, no flash of a navy flag in the moonlight.

Still he stared into the darkness.

Beyond him the two men continued to whisper and chuckle, making lewd remarks about the captain’s intentions.

Why in God’s name had he brought a woman aboard? He hadn’t been thinking straight. He’d been won over by her plea and the promise of a lusty tumble in bed with a lady such as her. It had been too long that he’d been without a woman’s touch, for Roderick Cameron was not used to seeking them out alone. In fact it had been his fellow shipman, Gregor Ramsay, who had been the brazen carouser when they docked at ports near and far. Roderick did not consider himself a man of finesse, especially when it came to women. He was not gifted with charm and the necessary skills of seduction. Since his cohort, Gregor, had taken time away from the ship, Roderick’s sole task was to keep the crew aboard the
Libertas
safe, no matter what dangerous task they undertook, and to keep his men content. He had dreamed of captaining a ship since he was a lad watching the vessels come and go down at the docks in Dundee, and he wasn’t going to let anything threaten his leadership, least of all a woman.

They were trouble, no good for anything but a quick roll before you were on your way again. If you got a taste for it they could break your bond with the sea and hold you to the land. Brady was in a position to warn them of it, for he was saddled with a woman and bairns, too. Brady’s lot was a warning to them all. He had a family he had to provide for even though he was a man of the sea. It tore the sorry man in two directions.

Roderick had longed for a woman that night, though, and she had appeared. Maisie from Scotland. What red-blooded man could have resisted? Surely it would do no harm to keep her below deck and deposit her in Dundee.

A cold wind whistled in over the water.

He thought of his bed, and the woman who was warming it.

“She’s aboard now,” he said, returning Clyde’s eyeglass to him, “and you’d be wise to get used to the idea, because I intend to put her down on Scottish soil myself.”

“What a gentleman you are,” Brady said. “But you do intend to bed her, don’t you?”

Roderick nodded. “Oh, aye. The men may grumble about her presence, but they would respect me even less if I didn’t bed her.”

Brady grinned. “Now I am reminded why you have their loyalty. You’ve a canny knack of sounding as if you’re talking sense, no matter what fix you’ve got us all in.”

Roderick laughed, but talk of getting them in a fix still niggled at him. There would be no fix, if he didn’t let his curiosity about her circumstances get the better of him.

* * *

Much later that night, Roderick strode across the boards and climbed down the ladder below deck. He made his way along the narrow corridor to his quarters with his plan in mind. He would claim her, then arrange for her to be accommodated elsewhere until they docked in Dundee. He could not afford to be distracted by a woman. Assuring himself that it was possible to bed her and be gone, he opened the door and entered the cabin.