Chapter Twelve

Ever since the capture of the Charlotte, Jenna had wanted her freedom back. She hadn’t liked being told what to do by a pirate.

When had she realized she’d had no freedom even before her ship was captured? She had been caged by people who judged her by her mark, and by her own self-doubts.

And now …

There was something seductive about the Ami, and its occupants. Even its captain.

There was also something very seductive about the freedom she’d felt today.

It was strange to lose freedom to gain some.

But as contradictory as that fact was, it was true. Hamish, Meg, and even Robin had accepted her to some extent. She had been useful. She had even been wanted. Her mark had been accepted also as a part of her, neither good nor bad. It just was. And that was the greatest gift she’d ever had.

She had come alive in the past several days. Perhaps the past several weeks. She loved the sea and the wind and the sun. She loved being free of the darting looks and the unguarded shame in her parents’ eyes.

She only knew that she felt strangely at home on this ship, even more so than on the Charlotte, where she’d been loath to let the other passengers know about the mark. She knew her excess of clothes had made her appear eccentric. She had tried not to care, just as she had tried all her life not to care.

In truth, she’d come to care very deeply about Meg. Perhaps because of Meg’s vulnerability, one that Jenna knew only too well. How could she leave Meg, or Robin with his too-old bravado and cynicism? Whether the captain or Robin or even Meg knew it, the children needed her as much as she needed them.

How could she leave them in the company of pirates? On a ship that could be taken at any time by the English? If the captain was correct, the children would be at risk, both because they were Jacobites and because they were aboard a privateer that could—at the stroke of a pen—be labeled a pirate ship.

And as unwise as it was, as completely foolish that she knew she was, she did not want to go ashore. She did not want to go to an uncertain future with a man she had never met.

Her stomach tied into knots at the very thought. Far more now than it had in Scotland. Then marriage had seemed her only escape. Now she wondered if she were going to an even worse situation where she’d have no protection, no alternatives, no escape.

The simple—and devastating—fact was that she did not want to leave any of them. Meg. Robin. And worse, she did not want to leave the captain.

He cared nothing for her. She cared nothing for him. But he … intrigued her as no other man ever had. Not, she admitted, that she had known many men well, or even slightly. She had always been hidden away.

And now she wanted—nay, needed—to explore all the contradictions of this particular man: the roughness and tenderness that seemed to be a part of him, the cynicism in his eyes and the loyalty he inspired in his crew. Her father had never had that kind of loyalty from his soldiers. They obeyed out of fear or for monetary rewards. Not out of affection. And affection was what this crew gave their captain. She saw it in the way they responded to him.

She could not stop thinking about the man who was her captor, and how different he was from her first impression. Or was he?

Had he just known how to use her?

But even more important, she did not want to leave the ship without Meg. She wanted Robin, too, but Meg was in more jeopardy. She was a lass who did not belong with a crew of men, while Robin was twelve, old enough to be a cabin lad.

In the past few minutes, though, the idea had taken root in her heart.

Something in the child had struck a chord in her. She recognized the loneliness, the quiet desperation, the fear. They had different causes. Hers came from nature, and a family who never accepted imperfection. Meg’s came from cruelty and fear.

But how to keep her when the captain was so adamantly opposed?

She doubted she could smuggle the child off the ship, even if Meg would go willingly, which she doubted. And if she did, what then would happen to Robin? She wanted to keep them together, to keep them both safe.

She reached the captain’s cabin and opened the door. Celia was inside, moving around, which was progress. A tray of food was on the table.

Her maid looked up and smiled. “I heard them saying we will reach land soon.”

“Aye, today, it seems,” Jenna said.

“Bless the angels,” Celia said thankfully. “I will no’ be sad to see the last of this ship. I’ve been living in mortal fear.”

“No one … has harmed you?” She had thought Celia safe, under the protection of the captain, and had certainly checked on her.

“Oh, nay, my lady, but that is not to say they would not. Black-hearted villains they be.” She looked at Jenna for approval of her assessment. When one was not immediately forthcoming, she added, “It was a gentlemanly thing he did, giving ye his cabin. That Mrs. Carrefour …”

“He may be many things, but I would not include gentleman among them,” Jenna said dryly.

“Without that terrible scar, he would be fair handsome,” Celia ventured.

“I have not noticed,” Jenna said. It was a lie but a small one. Attractiveness came from the inside, not the outside.

“How is the lass?”

“Still very ill,” Jenna said. She went over to the windows and looked out. She could see land now. A great dark green mound seemed to rise straight out of the sea, contrasting with the emerald sea.

“Well, I for one will be pleased to be on dry land,” Celia said as she stood beside her. “My, but it does look fine.” Then she turned to Jenna. “We will stay awhile?”

“I am not sure,” Jenna said.

“I do not like the sea, my lady.”

“I am expected in Barbados.” Her voice held no conviction and she knew it.

From the expression on Celia’s face, she had realized it, too. “Ye are going to Barbados?” Celia asked.

“I am not sure Mr. Murray will still want me.” Or the children, she added silently.

“But of course he would. ’Tis not your fault that the ship was seized.”

“He has never seen me. My father says he knows about the birthmark, but what if my father lied?”

Celia did not say anything. It was obvious that she would not put that beyond her father.

“The child is very ill,” Jenna repeated.

Celia’s lips turned downward and panic widened her eyes. “My lady …”

“I will take care of you,” she assured Celia.

Celia did not look reassured.

“I do not know exactly what I will do,” Jenna added. “I wanted to keep the child with me, but the captain—”

“Would never give her care to a Campbell,” Celia said with the familiarity of years of serving Jenna. “I have heard the insults. They are not fit to wipe your shoes.”

“They have reason, Celia.”

“You did nothing to them,” Celia said.

“They believe my family did, and I fear they may be right.”

“Ye are not responsible for that,” Celia said indignantly.

“I canna blame them, though. Meg’s father was killed at Culloden Moor; her mother was abused and later died. Robin’s father was also killed, and—”

“Nay, ye cannot blame yourself,” Celia said, her voice softened with sympathy.

“I have to find a way to help Meg. And Robin if possible. If they are taken by the English …”

“What can ye do?”

“I do not know yet, but there must be something.”

“I cannot go back to sea,” Celia said, her hands twisting together. “I would do anything for ye, but—”

“I know,” Jenna said. Celia had lost much weight and her face was pale. She had been better this past day, but she would never be a sailor.

“What are you planning?”

“I am going to try again to have her stay with me.”

“And Mr. Murray? Would he accept the bairn?”

“If he does not, I will not stay.”

“Then …”

“I could become a governess. I have some jewels that I could sell.”

“But you are a lady,” Celia said in a horrified voice.

“Someone useless, you mean.” Jenna fixed her gaze on the land ahead. Martinique. A part of France. Her country’s enemy.

Needing something to do, she started to fold the dress that had nearly been destroyed and placed it in her small trunk.

“My lady, I will do that.”

“Nay, you are still feeling ill. I am not useless, Celia.” The words were more snappish than she’d intended. She felt so helpless at the moment. For a few hours, anyway, she had felt needed and wanted. Then she had been so lightly dismissed by the captain, her offer so easily rebuffed.

But she had idea.

The question was whether she dared.

Alex saw the Charlotte at anchor as the Ami sailed into the harbor at Martinique. So the ship had made it. He made a note to give the second mate, Marcel, an added bonus. It looked battered, but not nearly as badly as the Ami. It had probably avoided the heart of the storm.

Still, the blow had taken its toll.

Marcel was obviously alerted to his arrival. He stood on the Charlotte’s deck as the Ami anchored next to it.

“Pleased to see you, Cap’n,” he yelled. “We was worried about you.”

“And I you,” Alex said. “Did you see the British frigate?”

“Nay.”

“We had to go into the storm to lose it.”

“No sign of the Sassenach around here.”

“Have you been into town?”

“Nay, I was going to wait until you appeared.” He grinned. “I knew you would.”

“Good lad. Let some of the crew go into town now. They deserve it. And give them each a guinea.”

“Aye, sir.”

Alex turned back to his own crew as the anchor was lowered. He wanted to see the French governor first to hear whether there was any news—or changes regarding their welcome since the last time they visited the island.

“Hamish,” he said. “You are in command while Claude and I go ashore. I’ll try to find a doctor.”

“And the prisoners, sir? They are a sorry lot after the last day.”

“They can come on deck,” Alex said, “but I want them guarded. Hopefully we can release them in a few hours.”

“And the Campbell lass, too?”

“And why not?” Alex said shortly, even as he realized the Campbell had charmed the old grizzled Scotsman who hated as much as he did.

Hamish shrugged yet continued to watch Alex steadily.

“She has been … useful,” Alex admitted. “But she was a passenger on the Charlotte. We cannot keep her. She is to be married on Barbados.”

“I dinna think she is that eager to go.”

“Every lass is eager for marriage.” But he knew that was not right. Many women married because they were forced to make a good alliance, or because they simply found that to be preferable to being the barely tolerated spinster of the family.

For some unfathomable reason, Alex did not want to see that happen to Jeanette Campbell.

He watched as the anchor was lowered.

“Should we lower the quarter boat?” Hamish asked.

Alex felt a rare moment of indecision. “In thirty minutes. I want to check on Meg.”

He saw a twinkle in Hamish’s eyes and silently damned the man. He was not going to see the Campbell lass. It was a matter of supreme indifference to him that she would soon be leaving the Ami.

Good riddance.

But first he needed to know how Meg felt.

He went down the companionway, hesitated at the passage that led to his cabin, then turned in the opposite direction to where Meg received care.

Robin was, as usual, at Meg’s side. She was clutching his hand as if it meant her life. Alex saw pain in her eyes.

“Meg?”

“I am better,” she said.

But she was not. He knew it. He had thought the fever had gone down, but now he wondered. Fever spots reddened her cheeks and her eyes were far too bright.

“I see,” he lied.

Robin looked up at him with real fear in his eyes. Alex had seen fear in his eyes before, but never like this.

“Where is Lady Jenna?” Meg asked.

“Jenna?”

“She asked me to call her that,” Meg replied.

Jenna. The name seemed to fit her far more than Jeanette did. Jeanette was formal, aristocratic. Not the lass who obviously loved the sea, stood up to privateers, and had a way with children.

“We have reached Martinique. She is leaving.”

“Nay,” Meg said.

“There will be a doctor there.”

“I want her.”

Alex was stunned. He knew that Meg had been drawn to Jeanette Campbell. Perhaps because of the songs or the softness so long denied her. He had no idea how important that connection had become. “She is a Campbell.”

“She is not like them,” Meg said.

He wanted to say the Campbell lass had been trying to save her own life. But that would not be the entire truth. He had seen the tenderness in the woman’s eyes, something she could not disguise.

“She is going to get married. She could not stay, even if she wanted to.”

“Will you ask her?” Meg’s eyes were pleading.

“Why?”

“She makes me feel better, as if she really …”

Alex ran a rough, calloused finger along her cheek. “A lot of people love you, Meggy,” he said. He surprised even himself with the words. He had never used the word before with the children.

Meggy’s eyes filled with tears. An ache filled his heart. He could help her. He could demand that the Campbell lass—he could not think of her in any other way—stay aboard. Hell, his life would be forfeit anyway if he were captured.

He had nothing to lose.

But could he destroy Jeanette Campbell’s life, no matter how much he hated her clan? She was to be married. And if she stayed aboard the ship, she would be in as much danger as the rest of them.

For Meggy’s sake. Why did he think that would mean more to the Campbell lass than her own wedding?

Perhaps because he never would have thought that even he would put this child before his own goals. Because he now knew it was possible to care beyond revenge and hatred, even unwillingly.

“I will talk to her,” he said, his fingers clenching into fists. “I cannot make her stay if she wishes another life.”

Meggy looked up with big, luminous eyes as if he were God.

If he were, he would cure her with a touch.

Since he was not, he had to approach a Campbell. God help him.

Jenna had been told to stay in the cabin. But she wanted to see Meg. By the saints above, she was going to do just that. She could not leave the wee lass without at least a goodbye. She hoped it would be only a temporary good-bye.

She planned to appeal to the governor. Surely he would understand the need for a child to be in a woman’s care. Meg was no relative of the captain’s. If that tactic failed, well then, she’d heard the ship was looking for new hands. Even at her short height, she was as tall as some of the sailors.

If an eleven-year-old lass and twelve-year-old lad could stow aboard, then so could she.

She would lose her reputation forever. She did not care.

She paused at the mirror. She had changed into a clean dress, a green one she knew turned her eyes to a shade of aqua. She thought about putting on a pair of gloves, but to what purpose now? Everyone had already seen her mark. She did pin a cap over her hair to keep it from flying wild. How she wished to wash it.

She turned to Celia. “Stay here. I will be back.”

She tried the door. It was unlocked. She went through the empty passageway. She supposed most of the hands were abovedecks. She quietly opened the door to the sick bay, not wanting to wake Meg if she were sleeping. Instead, she saw the captain sitting next to her, Meg’s small hand in his large one. Neither of them saw her at first, and she was startled at the strength of the bond between them, the tenderness in the captain’s face.

Until he turned around and glowered at her.

Her fingers curled around the edges of the door. “I want to say good-bye to Meg,” she said.

He rose, his height dwarfing her. He had always been impressive in stature, but he was intimidating in other ways as well: his cool eyes, the grim set of lips permanently hovering on the edge of a smile. It made him look dangerous and wicked and oddly appealing.

“How is she?” she asked softly, refusing to retreat.

“The same. I hope to find a doctor in Martinique.”

“Can he do anything more than Hamish?”

He shrugged helplessly. It was difficult to imagine the man being helpless about anything.

Then he caught her gaze and held it. “Are you anxious for your marriage?”

Stunned, she could only stare for a moment. “That, sir, is none of your business.”

“Nay,” he agreed. “It is not. Except …”

She blinked. The intimidation had been replaced by an uncertainty. A rare uncertainty, she was certain.

“She has been asking for you,” he said reluctantly.

Jenna felt her heart beat rapidly. Meg wanted her. Someone wanted her.

Remember your duty. Your promise.

No one would really care. Probably not even her intended husband. He could send away for another wife, one who would probably please him more. But then what would she do when Meg was better and she was put ashore?

And she would be put ashore. She had no doubt about that. She was being tolerated only because the child had asked for her. “I can stay on board until you leave Martinique,” she said.

“You did not answer my question,” he said.

“What difference does it make?”

“I would not want to be responsible for destroying your future.”

“A Campbell’s future?”

“Perhaps just one Campbell,” he said.

There were other comments she could make. She saw by his clenched jaw that every word was difficult for him.

“I will stay as long as Meg needs me,” she said instead. “But I want Celia to be put ashore and made safe and comfortable.”

“It will be done, Lady Jeanette,” he said stiffly. He was standing close. Very close, and she felt the heat from his body, fancied, even, that she could hear his heart beat. For a moment, her breath seemed to leave her, and she thought … for the barest moment …

He moved away, leaving her to stand alone. “Jenna,” she said, somehow feeling it necessary that she say something. “My name is Jenna.”

It would have been easier, Alex supposed as she stepped down into the quarter boat, if the woman had refused. If she had even protested. It was only now that he realized she had not answered his question about her forthcoming marriage.

She’d simply looked … relieved. He did not want to like her. He did not want to admire her spirit, her willingness to remain among enemies for the sake of a child.

In truth, for a moment, she had looked uncommonly appealing with the white cap holding long golden brown tresses in place and those expressive eyes wide with surprise. He’d been stunned to realize he wanted to kiss her. And even more so at how much he wanted to do it.

It had taken all his strength to take a step backward. She was a Campbell. She was on her way to wed another. She was, he’d reluctantly realized, an innocent even if she had Campbell blood.

And he was the devil.

He told himself it would be just for a few days here in port. Then he could rid himself of her as planned.

Claude looked at him curiously. Alex said little to him as they discussed what they would tell the French governor and how much of a bribe they would offer him to allow them to drop off the passengers and sell the Charlotte here. He would grumble that it might provoke the English, and that right at this moment there might be a peace treaty.

Then he would claim a substantial percentage of the prize in the name of the French government, which would receive damned little of it. Alex had already played this game a month earlier. It was one reason he’d sent the first prize back to France, but he simply could not do that again. His crew was already too small.

“When do we take the Charlotte’s crew in?” Claude asked.

“This afternoon, I hope.”

“And the Campbell mademoiselle?”

“She will be staying a few days.”

Claude’s brow furrowed, but he wisely said nothing more about the Campbell lass. “What about the personal belongings?”

“Lady Jeanette can keep hers. The others will be allowed only enough to get them to where they are going.”

Claude nodded.

Alex’s attention turned to the small group on the docks awaiting their arrival. Among them were several uniformed officers and a patrol of blue-coated soldiers.

Alex and Claude exchanged glances.

As they stepped on the dock, the patrol surrounded them, and the officer addressed them. “The governor wishes to see you.”

Alex nodded. He leaned down and told the senior crew member in the quarter boat to row to the Charlotte and tell its master that he was not to let any of his men leave the ship at the moment. He said the words in Gaelic.

“What are you saying?” the officer demanded.

“Just that they should stay aboard.”

The officer looked at him suspiciously. “Any attempt to leave will be considered an act of war.”

A chill ran down Alex’s back. Had a peace treaty been finalized? And if so, was one of the conditions the seizure of his ship? And his crew?

He nodded to the quarter boat crew to return to the ship, then turned and with Claude and the escort strode toward the governor’s house, wondering whether this would be the last time he knew freedom.

And, bless all the saints, what of Meg and Robin and his crew?

And the Campbell lass?