The Sea Hawk (11 page)

Simone was enjoying the feel of Julia's body close to hers and wished the trip to her home was longer. Now the woman's incessant questions brought temptation too close to resist. Light amber eyes dilated somewhat as they took in the inviting fullness of Julia's lips so close to hers. It would be so easy to lean forward only a very few inches and feel their softness once again. Quickly looking away, Simone broke the moment by turning the horse back onto its path, shifting her body farther back. She thought she heard Julia release a sigh of relief as well.

Julia joined the other members of their party for dinner that evening. She felt much more secure having dinner with Simone in a formal dining room than in the captain's cabin. Simone's cousin, Jean-Pierre, the caretaker of her property and horses, joined them. Julia enjoyed the lively talk and laughter, forgetting she and Kitty remained prisoners even though they were never treated as such.

Midway through a multiple course meal, a housekeeper escorted Henri Archambault to the door of the dining room. Simone excused herself from the table and engaged in a quiet conversation with her first mate. Returning to the table, she said, "My apologies, but I must leave. Enjoy the remainder of your meal. I shall return shortly."

Julia watched Simone drain her wine glass and stride away, accompanied by Anton and Archambault.

SIMONE LED ARCHAMBAULT and Anton across the hilly low-lying area from
Le Repos
toward the small village of Sainte Anne on the western shore of Martinique. Unlike the more shallow cove near her home, Sainte Anne lay on a deep water port an easy four mile ride from
Le Repos
. It was not uncommon for ships to seek rest in the village.

"Did DuChamp say why it is so urgent to see me?" Simone asked Archambault.

"He did nothing more than ask if you were on the island,
Faucon
."

Simone frowned. She had heard the name August DuChamp once or twice in her travels, but knew little about the man other than he was the son of former slaves who had found his freedom at sea.

The last remnants of the Caribbean sun were disappearing behind palm trees along the western coast when Simone brought her horse to a stop in front of the Boar's Head Tavern. She looked around the village as she stepped down from her saddle and tied the reins to a post in front of the tavern. She stepped onto the wooden decking in front of the small building and waited for her companions before entering. Lanterns hanging from overhead beams threw a golden yellow light over the tables and benches. Several men stood nonchalantly at the bar, undisturbed by the entrance of Simone's small party.

In the far corner she spotted a black man gnawing on a large hunk of meat. He grabbed a tall tankard and gulped its contents to wash his food down, wiping his mouth afterward with the back of his hand. The closer Simone drew to the man the more weathered lines she saw etching his rough face. She strode across the tavern directly to his table, followed by Archambault and Anton.

"You have a message for me,
Monsieur
?" she asked as she straddled the bench seat on the other side of the table.

"Your reputation for directness precedes you,
Faucon
. Laffite wants a parlay," DuChamp said bluntly.

"I do not take orders from Jean Laffite," Simone smirked, motioning to one of the serving women to bring drinks for her and her party.

Leaning across the table and lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, DuChamp said, "Barataria is destroyed."

"And why would this unfortunate event be of concern to me?" Simone asked, her tone nonchalant.

"The British are planning an invasion at New Orleans. Laffite believes troops will be brought to the city from Jamaica. He wants you. Or rather, he humbly requests your assistance in defending the city."

"It was the British who destroyed his headquarters at Barataria?" Simone asked as she took a tankard from a tavern worker.

"No, the Americans, due to an ill-advised suggestion."

"Then, you will have to pardon me,
Monsieur
, if I do not understand why Laffite would have any interest in assisting the Americans. It would seem obvious they have no wish for his assistance against the British."

"You would have to ask him concerning his motives, but I am certain it would involve some type of profit," DuChamp smiled.

"When?"

"Within a week. Laffite's ships took refuge at Bayou LaFourche. He set sail for Isla de Margarita a few days after he dispatched me to find you."

"Isla de Margarita is a very long way to travel for a meeting. He must sail past the British at Jamaica to reach his destination."

"Laffite does not confide his plans to me,
Faucon
. I am nothing more than a messenger. I leave here in two days time and sail to rendezvous with him at sea." DuChamp glanced around the tavern and pushed himself up from the table. "Now if you will excuse me, I believe an evening of rest and relaxation awaits me. I hope to see you again in about a week." Bowing to Simone, DuChamp rearranged his clothing in a failed attempt to make himself more presentable and ambled across the tavern toward a buxom young woman with a thick mane of black hair and a willing smile.

Archambault and Anton took seats across the table from Simone.

"What do you think?" Archambault asked.

"I think this is none of our concern," Simone answered as she took a deep drink from her tankard.

"You know Laffite would not propose a plan unless it involves a profit," the first mate said.

"We have enough, Henri. The men are tired. As am I. We have been at sea so long I have almost forgotten how to walk without listing to one side or the other from habit."

Anton chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. "We could remain on Martinique until either the Americans or the British win their little war and then ally with the winner."

Looking intently at Simone, Archambault said, "Louis Rochat would not have allowed such an opportunity to slip by."

As he lifted his tankard to take a drink, Simone sprang from her seat and slapped the drink from his hand. Silence descended over the tavern as she grabbed his shirt and pulled his face closer to hers. "You know
nothing
of Rochat," she hissed. "If you mention his name to me again, I will kill you myself." She shoved him back onto his seat and stalked out of the tavern.

Simone swung onto the back of her horse, turning her mount away from the tavern and back toward
Le Repos du Faucon
. Archambault served with Rochat, having come on board the year after she was taken and knew nothing more about her relationship with the drunken old man other than she shared his cabin. When she killed Rochat and took
Le Faucon de Mer
, no one was more surprised than Archambault when she chose him to be her first mate. A woman with her own ship was truly a rarity. She learned much from Rochat, but needed an older man as her second in command until she was certain her crew trusted her. Although she did not trust Henri completely, he served her well in the years they had been together. As long as she was successful in keeping coins in their pockets and rum in their bellies, her crew remained loyal to her. There were times she was sure they even feared her. Despite the control she exercised, she considered her time limited.

As she guided her horse along the sandy shore of the island, Simone knew she was rapidly tiring of the continual movement of her ships. Although she agreed to keep Anton aboard as a member of her crew, she knew their life was not what she wanted for her brother. He should marry and settle down and raise fat, happy children in peace. Her greatest fear was not her own capture and probable death, but that of her brother. She had already lived longer than she would have thought possible. As the waves came into shore, Simone wanted nothing more than to stay at
Le Repos
and do what its name suggested. Rest, raise her horses, and die in her own bed.

And what of Esperanza and Joaquin? There were times Esperanza seemed filled with loathing for her own son. Simone believed Joaquin would one day grow into a fine man, overcoming the circumstance of his birth. There were times Simone believed her lover simply came to her bed to repay a debt rather than out of any true emotion, just as there were times Simone wasn't sure she could fully trust the woman who shared her bed.

The longer Simone walked her horse along the beach, the blacker her thoughts became. Her once simple world was becoming more complex. It was no more than a three day sail to Isla de Margarita and it was a beautiful island. Perhaps she should hear what Laffite had to say. If the British were defeated they might abandon the Caribbean entirely. Almost as if it knew the way home without her guidance, the stallion turned away from the beach and began the climb toward
Le Repos
.

JULIA WAS AMAZED at the simple beauty of Simone's home. Surely she had taken enough booty to live in opulence, but chose instead to live no more than comfortably and simply. Julia had been to Martinique on dives many times. Now, surrounded by its former unspoiled natural beauty, she felt like she was seeing it for the first time. A beautiful, undisturbed haven. The red-roofed, distinctly Caribbean home was graced by a large front porch and nestled in a grove of tropical trees. To protect it from the seasonal tropical storms and occasional hurricane, each window was adorned with heavy tan shutters. With nowhere else to go, Julia took a leisurely stroll through the brick-lined gardens surrounding the house.

"Would you wish to see
Faucon
's children?" Joaquin's voice asked as it broke into Julia's thoughts. "They are very beautiful."

"I didn't see any children at dinner," Julia said.

"Too big for dining room," Joaquin smiled. "Come."

Julia followed Joaquin along a path and was surprised when they entered a long low building with a red roof matching the one on Simone's home. Joaquin struck a match and a lantern illuminated a clean stable housing twelve stalls. Joaquin carried the lantern down the hay-covered floor and began pointing out each animal.

"What kind of horses are they?" Julia asked.

"Arabian.
Faucon
says they are the most beautiful of all horses," Joaquin answered. "They are the fleetest of foot." He stopped in front of a stall and made a clicking sound with his tongue. A moment later a large dark brown head with soulful eyes appeared over the stall door. Joaquin hung the lantern next to the stall and reached into his pocket, pulling out a chunk of something and held it out to the animal. Soft, velvet lips stroked his hand as the horse gently took the offering and chewed contentedly.

"What is that?" Julia asked.

"Sugar cane," he said as he took another piece from his pocket and handed it to her. "They like it."

Julia extended her hand and laughed as the huge animal's soft lips tickled her palm.

"This is Hercules. Someday he will be mine," Joaquin said as he reached up and stroked the side of the horse's head. "Perhaps, if you lucky,
Faucon
let you choose a horse also."

Julia rested her hand on Joaquin's shoulder. "Taking care of a beautiful animal such as this is a big responsibility, you know," she said. "Despite their size and strength they depend on someone like you to take care of their needs."

"Like big baby, yes?" Joaquin grinned up at Julia.

"Yes." Julia laughed again and ruffled his hair.

Simone stepped out of the darkness, leading her horse. "You know horses,
Mademoiselle
?"

Startled, Julia blushed when she saw Simone approaching. Her form-fitting tan pants accentuated a honed lower body. An off-white peasant blouse under a sleeveless maroon tunic fell softly over her upper body.
I was definitely born in the wrong century.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Not well. My parents owned horses when I was much younger."

"Perhaps you would like to go riding with Joaquin while we are here," Simone said. "I have one or two horses that do not require an expert rider."

"I know how to ride," Julia responded a little indignantly. Looking down at her dress she said, "However, I have never ridden in a dress and certainly not side saddle."

"Ah, I see. If you decide to join the boy I will see that proper clothing is found," Simone said. Turning to Joaquin she said, "Would you see that Napoleon is taken care of,
s'il vous plait
?"

Joaquin beamed as he took the offered reins and led Simone's horse toward its stall. Simone stood next to Julia and stroked Hercules's neck. Julia watched the quiet woman next to her and shifted from one foot to the other nervously. She wanted to say something just to hear Simone's voice again, but had no idea what to say. "You have beautiful horses," she finally managed.

"
Merci
. They are very good animals, but occasionally temperamental," Simone said as her hand ran along Hercules' neck. "They are like people in many ways. Proud, encouraged by praise. Quite intelligent, but do not tolerate abuse." Looking at Julia, she added softly, "They must be cared for and touched with only a gentle hand."

Julia, mesmerized by the sultry softness of Simone's voice, wished desperately she could tear her eyes away from Simone, but she couldn't.

"We will be leaving here within a few days time," Simone said, her fingers running through the Arabian's mane. Finally her eyes met Julia's, lingering a moment before she spoke. "For obvious reasons I cannot take you to a British port. I will take you and
Mademoiselle
Longmire to another port where you will be able to find passage."

"I am not British," Julia said quickly. "I mean, my mother is, but my father is an American."

"My apologies. I simply assumed from your presence on the British ship..."

"They rescued me at sea. I...uh...fell overboard from the vessel I was traveling on."

As Simone frowned and stared at her, Julia explained. "We were caught in a storm unexpectedly and I was swept off deck," she added, hoping her story sounded plausible. There was something unnerving about the way Simone looked at her, but Julia couldn't force herself to break the eye contact. She was certain Simone would never believe the real story. Hell, she didn't believe it herself.