Chapter Twenty-seven

They remained on the bank through the night. Tomas was able to retrieve the overturned canoe, but they lost Jenna’s bag of possessions, including her dresses, change of clothes, and what money she had.

She regretted that, but not too much. She was alive, and that was no small thing.

Nor was it any small thing that again it was the captain—Alex—who had saved her.

She’d been sick for a while. She’d swallowed a great deal of water, and it took time for the panic to fade. She could not get over the queasiness, the pain in her stomach.

Alex looked even sicker than she did. She’d heard him curse and knew it was aimed at himself. “Ah, Jenna,” he said then. “If anything had happened …”

“You didn’t let it,” she said.

“Almost,” he said. “I almost didn’t see you down there.”

He looked so miserable. “I do … have a tendency for getting into trouble, I fear.”

He did not answer but she knew he continued to blame himself and that only drove him farther and farther from her.

Marco and Tomas started a fire and she huddled close to it, willing her clothes to dry. Everyone but Alex filtered away on various errands or perhaps to leave them alone.

She wanted to reach out and take his hand. Instead, she put her arms around her knees and huddled next to the fire.

He was not going to take her in his arms. That much was clear. But perhaps she could learn something more about him, anything that would help her understand him. She knew, of course, that he was Scottish, that he had fought at Culloden, that he had protected a band of children for nearly a year. She still did not know his true name.

And as long as she did not, she would not know him, would not know how to find him, or what made him what he was, or how to reach anyone who cared about him. She thought how terrible it would be if he simply vanished from her life, and she’d have no way to know whether he was alive or dead.

And with him, directness always worked best.

She watched him trying not to watch her. “You said you have a sister,” she said.

His gaze met hers. “Aye.”

“Where is she?”

“In Scotland.”

“No one else?”

“Nay, they died not long before Culloden. My sister was already married.” He looked at her for a long moment, then he added, “To a Campbell.”

“A Campbell,” she whispered.

“Aye, a branch of your family. His name was Alasdair.” His voice was cold again.

She searched her memory. She had heard, though, of a scandal. Alasdair was a distant cousin who had died last year. His wife had been accused of murder, but then found innocent by no less a personage than the Duke of Cumberland himself. “Leslie,” she said. “Janet Leslie.”

“Aye. A Campbell nearly killed her.”

She could not breathe for a moment. She’d known, of course, that he’d hated the Campbells, but she’d believed it was the disdain of a Jacobite for a clan who allied itself with the English. She had not known it was so much more than that.

“Is that why …?”

“That is why another one of your cousins accused her of murder.”

“There are a lot of Campbells,” she said softly.

“Aye, they are a plague on this earth,” he said bitterly.

Jenna bit her lip. Now she knew why he had never quite trusted her, why he had kept so much to himself.

His eyes had hardened as he told the tale, but suddenly he reached out and took her hand. “I should not have blamed you for something you knew nothing about.”

But he had, and he might again. And, aye, she did know something about the ruthlessness of her father, of the other Campbells. She had heard them plotting to wipe out all the Jacobites in Scotland. But she had been a lass and could do nothing.

Or could she? If she had but spoken up …

“Nay,” he said as if knowing her thoughts. “You could have done nothing.”

She blinked back tears that had not fallen throughout the trek. Not when she was attacked by the snake. Not when she almost drowned. Not even when she feared for Alex’s life. One of her family nearly killed his sister, and another accused her of murder. Because she was a Jacobite? No wonder he hated her family.

His hand tightened around hers. She looked up at him. His beard had grown, and he looked like a bandit. His clothes were drying but were wet enough that they stuck to a body grown lean during his illness. His hair was also darker with moisture and those piercing dark blue eyes were filled with an intensity she had not seen before.

“My sister remarried,” he said after a moment. “The man also sided with the English at Culloden but I’ve never met a better man. I came very close to killing him. In fact, I wounded him so badly he hovered between life and death.”

“He lived?”

“Aye, he lived, and not because of my doing. I judged him without knowing him.”

It was an apology, and yet distance was still between them. His anger was still there too, though it was not aimed at her. He was a very complicated man who was full of contradictions. She wondered whether she would ever understand him as well as he seemed to read her thoughts.

“She is happy then?”

“Aye,” he said, then lapsed into silence.

“Good,” she said.

He was silent for a few moments. “Are you always so honest and forthright?”

“Nay. I used to hide in the shadows.”

“Because of the birthmark.”

“Aye. And I was plain.”

“You are anything but plain, Jenna. You are the bonniest lass I know.”

She looked down at her soiled clothes and felt the heaviness of her hair clinging to her face. Self-consciously, she pushed it back. “Nay,” she said. “You are still ill.”

“I do not know if I can ever get over the anger, lass. I’ve turned into a thief. I almost murdered a man who did not deserve it. I allowed hate to color everything. I have become my enemy.”

With those words, Jenna suddenly knew the battle ahead. The enemy was no longer her family. It was not that she was a Campbell. It was a self-loathing that went far deeper.

Her fingers wound around his and brought it to her lips. “And the good things?” she asked. “The children? The men who would do anything for you?”

“Saving the children was a way to strike back at the English,” he said. “Don’t turn it into something else.”

But it had been something else. Would he ever realize it? Or believe he was worth loving?

They reached the coast five days later. Tomas had been able to retrieve the second canoe. It had taken all of Jenna’s courage to step back in, but she knew they could not walk through the forest to the coast. It would take them weeks.

Nothing else could happen, she told herself. And nothing else did.

Not even a kiss. Not a moment of affection. Nothing. Instead Alex drove himself mercilessly. The fever struck him again, but he wanted Burke to look after him. She watched him suffer through such chills that she thought he might rock the earth, but he still flinched whenever she neared him.

The priest had taken her aside. “It is best for him that you stay away,” he said.

She had looked at him with misery but knew that he was right. Alex grew worse when she tried to do something to help him. He was able to travel again the next day, the medicine working small wonders.

Alex Leslie. She now knew his name but it made no difference. He trusted her, but he did not trust himself, and that seemed an even worse burden for him to carry. He had undertaken this venture thinking he would probably die. And he had not cared.

She did not know what to do to change his feelings. She could only look at him, knowing that each furlong they traveled brought them closer to a departure she did not want. Because he did not feel he had a future? Because he did not think he had anything to offer? Or was it still her name?

Jenna was a realist. She could look after herself. She’d left most of her jewelry aboard the Ami. The few pieces she had brought with her in the event of emergency had now disappeared down the river. If they did not reach the Ami, she would be penniless. She would also be unable to return home. Rumors would live with her throughout her life. She knew the misery of a birthmark. The shame of being a fallen woman would make her position untenable.

And Meg and Robin? The thought of the children had kept her going these past five days. She made up stories she could tell the lass, including descriptions of the parrots and flowers that so enchanted her.

When they finally reached the mouth of the river just before dusk, she asked whether she could use the water to wash her hair and her clothes.

“Stay close to the bank,” the priest said. “Tomas and I will keep watch.”

She had no soap, but just rinsing out her hair and her clothes made her feel better. The trousers and shirt had been clinging to her body, and she wore them into water that looked almost as muddy as she already was.

To her surprise, Alex came in with her. The chills had stopped yesterday, but his clothes, like hers, were caked with sweat that seemed to attract insects.

She kept an eye out for alligators, but the priest said they would be unlikely to see them here. Still, there was always the danger of snakes. She was not sure whether Alex had come in to bathe himself or to watch over her.

Jenna wondered whether she was making things worse.

But at least she did not think anything else could happen. In the past two months or so, she had survived cannon fire, a storm at sea, a giant snake, and rapids. Perhaps she was just becoming numb to it all.

She stayed close to shore and did the best she could. The priest produced a small bar of lye soap, and she scrubbed and scrubbed, then handed it to Alex. Then, reluctant to linger in the water, she climbed up on the shore and watched him soap, then dive into the water. She remembered the strength of his arms when he’d pulled her from the river, but it had been only three days since his last attack.

He finally came out, shaking his hair. He took off his shirt and she saw the scars again. He was thinner than he had been, but color had returned to his face. He looked wild and restless and dangerous.

They decided to rest overnight. They would have to move away from the river, according to the priest, since there was river traffic. That also meant there would be no fire tonight. Their clothes would have to dry on their bodies. No fish tonight, either, unless they ate it raw, and Jenna was not that hungry.

She sat next to Alex, praying that it would not be cold tonight.

“How many more days?” he asked the priest.

“We should reach a village tomorrow night. A fishing boat can sail you to the island. A day. No more.”

“My thanks for all your help,” Alex said, knowing the words were inadequate. They could have taken the diamonds and the money at any time. Instead, they had placed themselves in danger for him and his friends.

“You can repay us by returning. My people need your help.”

Alex hesitated. He was not going to lie to this man, and now he had personal business to settle before he could do anything else. “Someone will. You have my word on it.”

The priest frowned. “I thought …”

“I have people I must get to safety first,” Alex said. “With the treaty, I—and they—could be hunted. But I have a partner in France who is eager for a steady source of diamonds, and Claude, my first mate, and Marco …” He looked toward Marco in question, and the man nodded. “And Marco speaks your language. He will be back.” He suddenly smiled, his teeth white through the darkness of the new whiskers. “And you never know when I might appear.”

The priest nodded.

“We will finish our business tomorrow?” Alex asked.

“If you still have the funds.”

“Burke has the gold,” Alex said. “Thank God he was in the second canoe.”

The priest raised one thick eyebrow, but said nothing else. Instead, he offered Alex some of his prepared mixture. “I will give you some of the powder to take when you leave.”

“Obrigado,” Alex said.

“De nada,” the priest said in reply to his words of thanks. “You are learning Portuguese,” the priest said.

Alex nodded. “Where will we find you again?”

“Through Tomas in Vitória or the fisherman to whom I am taking you. Either of them can find me. Tomas has gone ahead to the village. He will bring some mules for you and your lady.”

His lady. If only … If only the sun did not disappear at night.

The priest disappeared then through the forest. He seemed at one with it, and had no fear of its dangers.

Jenna shivered and wished for a comb, but that too had been lost when the canoe had tipped over. Instead, she combed her hair with her fingers.

“I think I want to do what Meg did,” she said.

“And what’s that, lass?”

“Cut if off.”

He looked stunned. “Nay, lass. It is lovely.”

“Not now.”

“We will be back to the ship soon. Then you can wash it all you want.”

“And then what?”

“It’s not safe to go directly back to France,” he said. “The British will be expecting that and probably patrolling its coast now that there is peace.”

She watched his face, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about going to Louisiana. It’s in southern America. Once there, we can make enough changes in the Ami to get her—and the diamonds—back to France.”

“And you? Will you go back then?”

“Nay, I think not. The other children are settled in good homes. I will send some money back for them, but I think Robin and Meg will be safer, and happier, in New Orleans. It’s French, but a long reach from London.”

“And me?”

His eyes darkened. Or perhaps it was the nightfall that made them seem to glitter.

“You can still go to Barbados,” he offered.

“I think not,” she said coolly. “I would rather be a governess or—”

“Nay,” he said. “You would not make a good servant. You are too stubborn. You would be dismissed in a day.”

“It was what I planned if Mr. Murray and I did not suit.”

“’Twas not a very practical plan.”

“I did not used to be stubborn. You seem to inspire it.”

“No one could tame you,” he said, his eyes sparking with something she had not seen for much too long. Five days, to be truthful. “I will give you whatever you need to establish yourself. You can go to Boston or Philadelphia. New York.”

Jenna was insulted. “Nay. I need nothing from you,” she said.

Obviously reluctant, he hesitated again. “What if I employed you to care for the children?”

“In New Orleans?”

“Aye. I can visit there.”

“Visit?”

“Aye.”

But he would not stay. Because she would be there. He did not have to say that. He would give up the children—and a safe haven—to ensure that she and the children were safe.

“I will think about it.”

“Before we reach the ship,” he said. Not a question but a demand.

“Aye.”

He unwound himself and stood. Without looking back, he limped out of sight.

She had been outraged. Alex knew that. He should have never offered her money, but he wanted to make certain she would be safe. Keeping her with the children would assure that. And she would be good for them, and them for her.

He did not know why he’d waited to make that particular proposition. He’d wanted to give her choices. Opportunities. He should have known she would accept none of them. Except possibly for the last one.

And that would be both hell and heaven for him.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not believe he would ever be good for her. He had lost his soul, had become everything that he hated. And that did not even address his physical problems, nor the fact that his face was marked for life. He could never go on British territory without risking his life and that of anyone with him.

He had to settle the matter before he saw Meg and Robin again. He had to know that they and Jenna would be safe. Perhaps once that happened he could continue the diamond smuggling himself, rather than turn it over to Claude.

But first she had to agree.

At dawn, two men in white shirts and trousers appeared with three mules.

The priest bestowed a self-satisfied smile on them. “One for the captain, one for his lady, and one for me,” he said. “We will make better time.”

Jenna thought heaven had just opened. Her shoes were wet and in tatters and she had several blisters she’d tried to hide. The mules, while rather pitiful compared to her father’s fine horses, were as grand to her as the grandest of his prized steeds.

Alex saw her expression and even he grinned. He went over to her and interlocked his fingers to help her mount. She put her hand on his shoulder. Felt its strength. He was so unaware of it. Unaware of his basic decency. Unaware of his core power. And nothing she could say would convince him of that. Raw longing made her hand linger.

He did not pull away. Instead, he took her hand. “There is not another woman alive like you.” It wasn’t said in an “I have to have you” tone but more with regret.

She did not know what she should say. Or maybe she did. She just did not think he would accept it. So she merely removed her hand to the mule’s shoulder. At the moment, she saw a lot in common between the animal and man.

Alex looked at the fishing boat with trepidation. It looked as flimsy as the canoes that had overturned.

He avoided Jenna’s gaze. He did not want to see fear again. God knew she had experienced enough fear in these past few months to turn anyone else into a raving madwoman.

The ship obviously leaked. It had a shallow draft, and its sails were small and tattered. One good wind and they would all go to the bottom of the sea.

It smelled of rotten fish.

But then, probably, so did he.

“My ship?”

“There are a hundred islands around here, and many hidden bays,” the priest said. “It has always been the pirate’s sanctuary. My friends know most of them. They can find your ship. Unfortunately I must stay here. I become very ill aboard ship.” He took out a bag from his robe. “The remainder of the diamonds.”

Alex opened the bag and poured the contents into his hand. A rainbow of colors. Blue. Gray. Green. Amber.

“Jenna.”

She had been talking to Mickey, but went immediately to him and looked at the contents in his palm. She picked up one blue stone that caught the rays of the sun and it glimmered. It was magnificent.

She dropped it back in his hand.

“Nay,” he said. “It is yours. You have earned it.”

“But it belongs to all the crew.”

“It will be part of my share, and you have done as much—if not more—than any crew member. We would still be in Martinique were it not for you.”

“Keep it for me,” she said.

His gaze held hers. “I will.”

He turned to Burke, and nodded. The man took a pouch that had been tied around his waist and covered by a now ragged shirt. He tossed it to the priest, who dropped it into the folds of his robe.

“You are not going to count it?”

“Is it necessary, senhor?”

“Nay.”

“Then it is done. There are more stones like this.”

Alex did not doubt that for a moment. He had stopped wondering at the resources at the priest’s fingertips. He seemed to claim uncommon loyalty, but then he would. He had no riches himself, and his one concern seemed to be buying the freedom of others. A little smuggling was apparently justified for the good it accomplished. He was beginning to revise his opinion of godliness.

“You will pray for this ship?” he asked with more than a little irony.

“I would not lose my means to an end,” the priest replied wryly.

“That is enough for me,” Alex said. “Jenna?”

He already knew the answer.

“It is enough for me, too,” she said, and held out her hand for help in boarding. This time it was to Marco she turned, not to Alex.

He should have been gratified. Wasn’t it what he wanted?

He hoped he wasn’t glowering on the outside as much as he was on the inside.

One day in the leaking boat hadn’t sounded too bad to Jenna. But then she’d discovered that nothing about this adventure was easy.

There was no shelter. The boat smelled terrible and it lumbered through the calm sea like she imagined an elephant would. Each dip made her think there would not be a rise. But surprisingly, the boat continued to surface again, water spraying all its occupants.

The boat, which she certainly did not consider a ship, bobbed and wove past small patches of land. She hoped each would be the last, even though it meant she had to make decisions she did not want to make. Fishermen with nets kept watch, but all they saw were other small fishing vessels.

What if the Ami was gone? No, the Isabelle, as it was now named. But it would always be the Ami to her, just as she thought it would always be to Alex. What if it had been captured? Or had headed back to France, believing that they were dead or imprisoned?

Alex stared straight ahead, his stance restless, his gaze constantly sweeping the sea. He still had the weeks’-old beard. It was thick and bristly and yet it added to his attraction. Untamed. Unconquered. He was both and always would be.

A shout came from above. It was in Portuguese and she did not understand the word, yet she knew the meaning.

A ship had been sighted. Curiosity, even trepidation, urged her toward Alex. He was peering out in the direction a crewman was pointing.

“The British?” she asked.

He listened closely to the chatter above. He could make out some words. Not all. He caught enough to understand it was a Portuguese government vessel.

The diamonds aboard could convict them all. If, that was, they were not turned over to the British.

“We cannot outrun them,” he said.

“How far?”

“An hour away. Not much more.”

The crew of the boat was frantically working what sails there were.

Her heart thumped so hard she thought Alex would hear it. They had come so far …

She turned to Marco.

He gave her a wicked, delighted grin. He seemed to enjoy trouble. “Do not worry, lady. When they are not fishing, they are smuggling.”

But the speck she had barely been able to see grew larger and larger.

The fishing boat headed directly for a ribbon of water that ran between two islands. But it was like a hare and a tortoise, and the fishing boat was very definitely the tortoise. She watched as the hare gained on them. Then there was a shot that splashed just short of the ship. She was becoming accustomed to the sound.

Alex gave her a quick look. There was no place on this boat to hide. No way he could protect her here. They could not surrender. The lives of the fishermen were as much at risk as their own.

Instead, Alex grabbed some lines and helped turn the ship in the wind.

Another shot. Water splashed up and drenched her. They passed between the islands. The wind caught the sails but it also caught those of the larger ship. Still another shot landed only feet from the ship.

Alex gave the ropes to someone else, and turned toward her, clasping her tight in his arms as if he could guard her from a cannonball. She leaned into his embrace, feeling the comfort in it, the protectiveness. He leaned his head against her hair, whispering to her, but she could not hear for the rapid speech of the crew.

She heard an elated shout, then another, and looked back at the pursuing ship. The shrinking figures had abandoned the cannon as the ship came to a complete stop. Even from the distance, she heard a crashing sound as the ship hit a reef and foundered.

Alex looked down at her and released an indrawn breath. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

His arms tightened as if he would never let her go as their small craft lumbered to safety.