Chapter Seventeen

Tessa's lips parted at the threat. Either she went with him, or he would take the lives of the people sleeping peacefully on the isle. Could her father be so ruthless?

"Oui," he said as if answering her silent question. "And if you decide to stay, ma fille, England's boy king will hear that the Macleans on the Isle of Mull are aiding the French…" He shrugged. "'Twill be your stubbornness to blame for their annihilation, too."

Tessa's heart beat hard against the tightness in her chest. Sia began to squirm, so Tessa stroked her, trying to loosen her tight hold without letting her go. "But if I go with you now, you will leave the Macquaries alone, and the Macleans?"

His mouth turned up at the corners. "Oui."

Tessa nodded the briefest amount and released her breath. "I would bring my cat," she said, forcing her voice to sound steady.

"It will piss all over the ship."

"I'll clean up after her." She took a step back.

He cursed under his breath, glancing behind her at the quiet cottages, and then brushed a hand through the air.

"Amenez le chat," he said, and she exhaled with relief. "Now get in the boat, ma fille."

Tessa lifted her skirt and cloak with one hand while holding Sia and let the sailor steady her as she stepped in. She wobbled on the uneven bottom and plopped down onto the seat to steady herself. Sia pushed against her chest, and Tessa closed the cloak around her so the cat could hide from the cold, damp air. Rain had already begun.

The small boat bobbed on the waves as the sailors rowed back toward the ship anchored around the curve of the isle. The last rowboat remained as if waiting for more of her father's men. Were they setting traps for Eagan and his family? She turned to ask, but when she glimpsed the hard face of her father, the question died on her tongue. Instead, she looked back and watched Wolf Isle grow smaller as she was carried out to sea.

…

Eagan stepped out into the muted moonlight and tipped his face up to the first heavy drops of rain. He'd been unable to sleep apart from Tessa. Lark and Anna said she needed time alone to think, to take in all she'd learned about the man she knew as her father. Adam had agreed and said he should let her sleep, that he could convince her in the morn to stay when they were both well rested.

Eagan snorted. He'd certainly not be well rested, and he wasn't sure he could convince Tessa of anything.

Beck and Eliza had asked some of her old crew to guard Grissell's area. They took turns through the night like they used to when on Eliza's ship. In the morning, Eagan would return to Tessa and crawl into her warm sheets, asking her to marry him. The thought made his chest tighten. What if she said no? What if she said yes? What if she were with child?

He glanced at the willow tree's thrashing branches as he walked past it toward the closed portcullis. The growing wind caught his breath, and he broke into a jog. Grissell clung to the bars, her long silver-white hair loose down to her waist. She wore a night smock and robe with unlaced boots on her feet, a mile from her cottage. Her two white cats trotted through the bars, meowing at Eagan as he ran forward.

"Grissell?" Eagan looked up at the tower where the night guardsman's head appeared.

"What is it?"

"Open the gate."

"Bloody hell," the guard called. "I never saw her walk up."

The iron clink of the chains heralded the toothy maw rising. Grissell held on, moving her hands until it was too high, and then Eagan caught her.

The old woman was fragile. He lifted her easily, carrying her swiftly across the bailey through the rising wind, but his mind was flying out the gate.

"Tessa?"

"He's come for her," she whispered, and he surged forward into a run.

Eagan pushed through the doors, running with Grissell into the great hall where one of the kitchen maids yelped with surprise. "Wake Adam and Lark," he ordered.

Eagan lowered Grissell gently into a seat by the hearth and crouched before the old woman. The two cats had followed them in and leaped up onto her lap. Their ears were flattened. Eagan ignored their hissing. "Who?" But he knew.

Grissell's gaze lifted, and he saw the exhaustion war with stubbornness in her eyes. "Jandeau came with his men."

"What's happening?" Adam asked as he ran into the room, his tunic untucked and his kilt barely pleated. Lark followed, running straight to Grissell.

"Jandeau is taking Tessa right now!" Eagan's voice rose through the hall like thunder.

Lark took his place before the woman. "Mistress Grissell, you've walked all this way?" She touched her wrist to feel the strength of her pulse.

"Ye said she would be safe with guards from the village," Eagan yelled. "Let her sleep, ye said!"

Adam's hard features didn't change.

"Did he take her?" Adam asked, looking at Grissell, "or did she go with him willingly?"

Eagan grimaced. "It doesn't matter. She could be with child." He must see Tessa again. Talk with her. Hold her. Foking ask her to be with him, permanently.

Lark looked to Adam. "Isn't Cullen Duffie patrolling the waters?"

"What's going on?" Callum asked as he and Anna descended the steps, Anna holding their two-year-old Elizabeth against one hip.

"I believe he is," Adam said.

"Jandeau's taken Tessa," Lark answered Callum.

"And my bairns," Grissell said. They all looked at her. She lifted her head, her gaze going to Eagan. "Jandeau lured Tessa away, and then his men dragged Bann, Grace, and Charlotte out of my cottage. Gagged them and rowed them out to his ship."

"Oh, dear mother of God," Anna whispered.

"We'll go after them in the ship," Adam said.

"There's a storm coming," Callum said.

Grissell looked at Eagan. "Jandeau might sail anyway."

"I have a rowboat on Grissell's shore," Eagan said, running toward the doors. "I'm going after her now."

…

Tessa paced in the small cabin below deck she'd been led to as soon as she boarded her father's hulking ship. Dawn was hours away, but she couldn't sleep.

She listened to the men above through a small ceiling hatch as they tied sails because a storm approached. She'd been taken to the ship's rear, the wood around her creaking with the turning tide. Fresh water was in a basin, and two small apples sat in a basket. She ate one, barely tasting the sweetness while she watched Sia explore the room with its small bolted-down bed, privacy screen, chairs, and empty bookshelf.

Thump, thump.

Tessa jumped, propping one knee on the bed to stare at the wall separating her from the sea. Something had bumped against the hull. She held her breath as she heard what sounded like scratching. Sea animals couldn't break through a hull, could they?

The sound of a key in the lock made Tessa pivot. The cat shot off the bed to hide on the bookshelf. The door swung inward, and her father's large form filled the opening.

"Dine with me in my cabin." He nodded toward a chest that she'd already opened to find gowns of many colors and fabrics. "Choose a dinner ensemble, and I will have you brought up in an hour's time."

"'Tis still dark."

"The storm will grow fiercer. We eat now or possibly not for another day." His gaze caught the cat's flicking tail. "Leave your feline friend here. I wouldn't want it to leap into the sea."

The thought of sweet Sia falling into the black deep sent tingles up Tessa's arms. "I will keep her locked in here. Could I have a key to do so?"

Captain Lemaire stared at her, assessing. "The person leading you to my cabin will relock your door so no one will open it." He met her gaze. "One hour. Punctuality is a sign of good breeding."

"I will be ready."

He turned, striding out. Tessa listened to the scrape of the tumbler turning in the lock. Was he keeping his men out or was he keeping Tessa in? The cold in the room seemed worse, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Hopefully she'd find a warm ensemble in the wooden chest. Although the ice that covered her bones wouldn't thaw with woolen clothes. That chill came from the stark command in her father's voice.

Tessa felt the ache of tears behind her eyes and a hollow sickness in her middle. Eagan . "I would have said farewell," she whispered and sat on the bed. Sia leapt onto her lap, and Tessa rubbed her face in the cat's soft fur. "And I think…I would have stayed."

…

"Eat," Captain Lemaire said, indicating Tessa's full plate. "Once we're farther out at sea, the food is harder to come by and can be tainted. 'Tis part of this seafaring life."

Tessa took a bite of the tender lamb, wondering if it had been stolen from the herds that roamed Wolf Isle. She chewed. "Your cook knows seasoning. The sage and thyme blend well together."

Her father tilted his head as he studied her. "You also have a talent for knowing which spices pair and enhance one another. Perhaps you, darling Claudette, will become the ship's cook."

Tessa managed to swallow the chewed meat and blinked at her father. "I am to stay on the Bourreau ?"

"For the time being. I must stop in Portugal and have no plans to head back to France until I find some treasure for King Henri in the Caribbean."

The growing waves under the boat tilted the room, but all the large pieces of furniture remained bolted in place. Tessa held her plate with one hand and her wine goblet with the other. It reflected her tilting world.

"Is that how you earn coin?" She took a sip of the red wine as if everything wasn't literally swaying beneath her. It tasted smooth with an earthy undertone that reminded her of France. "You capture enemy ships for the king of France?"

Lemaire's dark eyes locked with hers. "Oui, but I have many ways to acquire gold."

Tessa swallowed as the prickles rose along her nape. How will you profit him? Grissell's question niggled through her like a burrowing parasite. "Grissell said something about the slave trade, that you might be…bringing in profit through selling people."

Lemaire flipped his hand, his polished gold rings catching the lamplight. "On occasion when the opportunity presents itself. 'Tis quite a lucrative business."

Tessa felt her worry inside harden into temper. But her father didn't seem the type to respond well to outbursts. "'Tis a horrid business," she said, her voice as even as she could manage. She remembered whispers at court about various people disappearing. Rumors circulated that enemies of the king and his mistress were sold to slavers, never to be seen again. If Tessa hadn't seen Rebecca's cold body, she would think her mother had been shipped away. Tessa wondered which her mother would have preferred: her throat slashed or being owned and mistreated for the rest of her life?

"Of course you would feel that way, child," Lemaire said, stabbing a piece of the lamb with the tip of his knife. "You were gently born and are not made for such business."

The knot in Tessa's stomach remained, but it didn't sound like he planned to sell her. He was her father, the father whom her mother had loved and the man who'd saved Tessa from the gutters. Once she knew him better, she'd ask him never to involve himself with such despicable practices again.

They continued to eat and sip the excellent wine in silence while the ship swayed and pitched with the swells of the waves. Tessa's legs tightened, trying to keep her level in her seat, her forearm bracing her periodically on the table. Rain hit the glassed portholes, and she was thankful the motion didn't make her nauseous. Her father said they'd ride it out overnight anchored closer to an isle before continuing out into the open ocean.

When she finished her meal, Tessa set her knife and napkin down beside her plate. "Will I live in France after this voyage?"

Her father stared down into his wine, swirling it. "I'm still considering what to do with you, Claudette." He glanced up. "You're beautiful and graceful like your mother. Do you possess any talents?"

"I…I sing and dance. I've taught lessons at the royal court while Mama lived." Her hand rose to the birdcage necklace.

The thoughtfulness on her father's face hardened like a bolt of lightning turning a clear sky into storm. "Rebecca took you to the French court?"

She felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment. "Only to teach lessons and sing for the children." She left off the part about singing to the king and his subjects.

He took a gulp of wine and set the goblet down on the table with a crack that made her jump. "And where was your mother while you entertained and taught? On her back with her legs spread, I'm sure."

Tessa's heart thumped hard. Did he expect her to answer?

"Tell me, Claudette," he said, picking up his wine, "do you have bastard brothers and sisters about France from Rebecca's infidelity?"

She held her own wine so it wouldn't fall over and shook her head. "No, Father. Mother was careful and only…she only took lovers to keep us fed and clothed. She also taught English to the children at court. But we didn't earn enough to keep our positions there, and when your funds stopped coming…"

"My funds stopped coming because she'd become a whore." His tone had such a cutting edge that Tessa felt blood loss.

She drank the rest of the wine in her glass and set it on the table. Her fingers found the birdcage locket and held it up with shaking fingers. She pried it open to show him the two tiny portraits, faded with age. One was her mother when she was young, her face full of joy. The other was a version of her father that Tessa barely recognized. The cutting lines and thick skin from living at sea weren't on his face yet, and he grinned in the picture like a man in love.

"She wore this always when at home," Tessa said. Telling him that Rebecca loved him seemed dangerous, as if he'd strike her for lying, so she kept her mother's declarations inside.

"I would see that," the captain said, and she slid it off over her head. She waited in silence as he held it, staring at the pictures as rain pelted the porthole windows like pebbles.

Her father spoke softly as if to the picture of her mother, his thumb brushing over it. The emotion Tessa could see in his tortured face showed that he'd loved Rebecca.

He glanced up at Tessa. "You have my coloring but her eyes."

She nodded. "She would stroke my hair and say that it was like running her fingers through your hair."

Pain sliced across his face. His brows furrowed and his white teeth clenched down behind parted lips. His narrowed eyes rose to Tessa's. "Did she think of my hair when she thrashed with pleasure under some rutting aristocrat?" He snapped the locket shut, dropping it to the tabletop. "Non, la fille. Your mother was like every other woman, a whore to her pleasures."

Her father's fist slammed down on the locket, making Tessa jump. Her empty goblet tipped over, rolling off the table to continue across the floor. He rose abruptly. "I will take you back to your cabin. The storm is making dessert impossible."

Tessa's constricted heart twisted when she picked up the crushed locket, an indent in the gold top. Would it even open again?

"We will have to stay here near Tiree until the storm passes," her father said, beckoning her impatiently.

Rain slanted across the deck as Captain Lemaire held her arm firmly so she wouldn't fall. The crewmen they walked by skittered out of her father's way. Was he also cruel to his men? They all looked like criminals with their dark glances, as if they weighed their chances of survival with Captain Lemaire if they risked touching her. Tessa pulled her cloak tighter closed.

"Bampot is retching down in the hold," one of the men was saying to another. "He hurled his last meal out on me shoes." The man used a ladle to pour water over his leather boots, his feet bare.

The other man laughed. "Did ye tell him that the ship was like an isle like the one he'd lived on, so he should just ignore the swaying?"

"Aye, but then he puked again."

The other man laughed and, catching sight of Captain Lemaire, cut off the chuckle and nodded as they passed.

"I have ginger from the Far East," Tessa said to her father once they'd reached her cabin door. "For the poor soul who is sick. It can calm a stomach."

"Save it for the truly ill," he said, his tone uncaring. Had he never been tortured by nausea before?

Lemaire unlocked her cabin and ushered her inside. Before she could turn and argue for the poor soul, he pulled her door shut and locked it, leaving her alone. Once again, he didn't leave her the key. "Good eve, Father," she whispered, her hand clutching around the crushed locket.

She turned around in the dim room but didn't see her cat. "Sia?" Tessa walked toward the darkness. "I've brought you some lamb." She put her hand in her pocket for the small pieces of meat she'd hidden there when suddenly a hand clamped down over her mouth, trapping her scream inside.