Capturing the Pirate's Heart (The Emerald Quest Book 1) Read online

  Madeleine was tempted to seek Jake’s assistance and tell him of her plan to escape. He seemed to know the town and she would have to find a very good hiding place so Uncle Titus couldn’t find her. If it was a small settlement, it may be difficult to find her way. A young woman on her own, not knowing the streets around the town, would be fair game for the fur trappers, pirates, and slave traders that Jake had spoken of.

  Madeleine frowned as she considered her options. If she had Jake as an ally, he could perhaps tell her uncle that she had fallen overboard while he was asleep and had not resurfaced.

  And then Uncle Titus wouldn’t even look for her.

  But no, she could not involve anybody else.

  Not yet. She would give it some thought as they approached the settlement ahead. Jake was called to the wheel house by the first mate, and Madeleine grimaced as he received a cuff under the ear. Life at sea was hard and violent, but young Jake seemed to take it in his stride. She moved into the shadows at the back of the boat, clasping her hands to her chest as the land got closer and anticipation filled her.

  ***

  It had taken two days for the Maiden to travel across the Gulf of Mexico. His half-brother, Jean-Luc had not been at the outpost in Bay St. Louis and had left word for Sébastien to sail up the Mississippi River to New Orleans. They had replaced their pirate flag with the flag of the Leclerc shipping company before they reached the delta. Sébastien ignored the few ships they had passed in the Gulf. It was time for business, not for privateering. A small frigate flying the British flag was now ahead of them as the incoming tide carried them along the Mississippi River toward New Orleans and its captain paid close attention to the Maiden as they passed her.

  “Oy, I’ll have a bit of that.” The raucous comment of one of his crew drew a frown from Sébastien, and he glanced at the object of the crewman’s attention. A young woman stood in the shadows at the side of the British frigate, watching the dolphins jumping joyfully in the wake of the boat. A dark bonnet hid her hair and she was clothed in a black dress. As he watched, she lifted her head and caught his gaze.

  He lifted a hand and acknowledged her as the boat drew abeam of his vessel. He smiled back as her face lit up in a broad grin. She lifted her hand to return his wave but obviously thought better of it. She dropped her head and turned away. Sébastien caught a quick glimpse of a fair complexion touched with red roses high on her cheeks. At close inspection, her bonnet was black, as was her dress, and he wondered why a woman of such youth would be in mourning. He watched with interest as a tall, thin man in a long dark coat moved from the middle of the deck and grabbed her arm. He was in the dress of a clergyman…more commonly referred to as a devil dodger by his irreverent crew.

  “Madeleine, you are not to be above deck.” His angry words reached Sébastien as the man pulled her roughly to her feet. “Those sailors are ogling you. It is not fitting for a woman to be looked at by such men. Get below immediately.” The man, who he assumed was her husband, had called her Madeleine; his voice had been loud and angry enough to carry across the water. For a fleeting moment, Sébastien regretted not being close enough to intercede on the young woman’s behalf. He shook his head and chased away the gallant thought. If her husband had told her to stay below deck, she should have obeyed.

  Obviously not a widow, then.

  But there was no need to be so rough and manhandle her. Her husband held her tightly as he pushed her toward the middle of the boat where the ladder went below deck. Sébastien’s interest was distracted as the first mate called for his attention, and he quickly forgot about the young woman as they prepared to dock.

  It took another two hours to reach the final bend in the river and approach the busy port ahead. The wharf at New Orleans was bustling with people as captains prepared to discharge their cargo and passengers. Arrivals and departures of vessels were dependent on the tide of the mighty river as the tide ebbed and flowed and there was always a wait before they could quay. Today seemed busier than most and Sébastien sighed. It would be good to leave this behind him and stand looking over his own fields of sugar, on an island far removed from the bustle of this busy port town. A foreman cracked his whip at a dozen slaves chained together, walking slowly along the edge of the wharf. From the boat to the north of his vessel, dark-skinned men began to emerge into the daylight, their feet and hands still secured with chains and they looked around, their expressions closed as they walked down the gangplank toward the quay. The British frigate was coming in to moor to the south of them and Sébastien smiled to himself. The English rose was back on the upper deck leaning over and watching the activity on the land. There was no sign of her husband. He wondered why a well dressed woman such as herself was travelling on a British cargo frigate to the colonies.

  “Take over from me.” Sébastien turned to his first mate and pointed to the small group of slaves standing together at the back of his vessel. “Put them below. I shall decide where they will go later.” Pulling off his shirt, he swung himself to the mast and began to climb the rigging. From his vantage point high up the mast, he could see across Decatur Street and into Jackson Square where the governor stayed when he was in New Orleans. He squinted into the lowering sun as the bright light reflected off the river. There was little sign of activity but the flag was raised, indicating the governor was in residence. Sébastien heaved a sigh of relief. He would have a leisurely meal at one of the taverns and perhaps seek out some female company for the evening after he met with Governor Carondelet. They had been at sea for a few weeks and a decent meal was not the only thing his body required.

  “Ahoy, Captain.”

  Sébastien looked down as his first mate called out to him and pointed up to the rigging above the main top. “The rope is fouled and we can’t pull down the sail.”

  He gave the first mate a wave and swung himself from the platform, across the ropes, carefully keeping his balance by holding onto the rope above his head as he stepped onto the loose rigging which swayed as it took his weight. Cursing softly beneath his breath, Sébastien looked up to the tangle of ropes above him.

  “Holy Mother of Christ, how the hell did that happen?” He shook his head as he muttered the angry words. He’d be having strong words with the first mate about the slackness of the crew member who was responsible for the state of the rigging. It had been satisfactory last time Sébastien had checked but now, its condition was on the head of the first mate and the crew member who had not paid enough attention to the ropes. The first rule of Sébastien’s vessel was the care of the sails. He had been in enough storms at sea to know the danger of rigging that was not well cared for.

  Stretching across, he pulled at the knotted tangle until the rough rope burned into his palm. He repositioned his feet and moved closer, and gave it an almighty tug and the frayed ends of the tangle let go.

  “Look out, Captain!”

  As the first mate’s shout reached him, the rope beneath his feet moved and Sébastien knew he was going to fall. Twisting his body, he leaped into mid-air to the port side and closed his eyes as he stretched into a diving position. The cold muddy waters of the Mississippi covered his head as he sank beneath the surface and he kicked and swam upward, spluttering as the taste of the mud hit his throat.

  Charming. Now he’d have to wash and change into fresh breeches before he went to meet the governor. He looked up and despite his anger at the mess in the rigging, Sébastien grinned as half of his crew peered over the side of the boat at him. The gap-toothed grin of his second mate caught his attention as he looked up at the faces above him

  ***

  Madeleine had shaken off Uncle Titus’ arm as he’d shoved her roughly below deck. No doubt he deemed it inappropriate for her to be in the view of the ship full of sailors pulling into the wharf ahead of them. To her relief, she had not endured another lecture as Uncle Titus had gone straight to his bunk and fallen asleep after eliciting a promise that she would stay below deck.

  “We are in
an unfamiliar land and there may be no other women around.” His bulbous nose twitched with distaste at the thought of Madeleine having any freedom.

  One of the best things about the voyage had been her uncle’s constant sea sickness. Madeleine smothered a smile at the uncharitable thought. Uncle Titus had managed to drag himself to the deck for the daily prayers and the Sunday service but had retreated immediately below decks when his sonorous sermon had finished. Madeleine could have told him that if he’d stayed up in the fresh air, the sickness would have soon passed but it suited her well to have him below deck. Spending the time looking out at the ocean and chatting with young Jake had served her very well. She had planned her escape and intended to put her plan in place as soon as the time was right. She’d given no thought as to what would follow her escape and how she would return to Bellerose, but her determination to succeed in finding the necklace pushed those problems to the side. The first step was to get away from her uncle and make good her escape. Maybe I am being naïve? Maybe a young woman alone with very little money would find it hard to achieve her goal in this town? She swallowed and pushed her doubt to the side.

  Still, once she came back on deck after her Uncle Titus had fallen asleep, a niggle of doubt tugged at her. She was keen to watch what was happening as the vessel next to their boat moored and unloaded its cargo. It could give her an idea of the direction she would take to get to town. It had nothing to do with wanting to see the handsome sailor who had waved to her before Uncle Titus had grabbed her. His eyes had been full of sympathy and she had felt a sizzling connection with the stranger who had caught her eye.

  Unfamiliar warmth had rushed through her belly as he’d smiled and waved at her. He had turned his head and held her gaze across the narrow space between the two boats until Uncle Titus had pulled her away from the side. The sailor was tall and dressed differently than the other crew members on the boat. His chest was bare above his tight breeches and the broad expanse of bronzed skin had set her belly churning.

  When she thought about it, it was not uncomfortable and it was a pleasant sensation. It was the same tense pull above her thighs that had set her legs to trembling when she had read Great Aunt Josephine’s diary.

  She moved to the aft of the boat, keeping her head down as the crew scurried around to ready the vessel as it moved closer to the wharf. Her bolt hole was on a pile of ropes behind the wheelhouse and it had been a comfortable retreat for her throughout the journey. She lifted her head as she sat with her back against the warm timber but there was no sign of her friend, Jake.

  “Look out, Captain.”

  The warning was followed by a loud splash and Madeleine jumped to her feet and ran to the side of the boat. Her fingers gripped the smooth timber as she craned forward looking into the dirty water. She jumped and put her hand to her chest as the water swirled in front of her and a sleek head broke the surface. Raucous laughter drifted across the narrow gap between the edge of the boat she was gripping and the vessel that was about to moor behind it.

  “Fancy a dip, did ya, cap’n?” Half a dozen crew members lined the edge of the deck, pointing at the figure in the water. “And you have a pretty lady watching too!”

  Madeleine didn’t have time to retreat to the shadows before the man turned and looked up at her. His black hair was plastered to his head, and his eyes were full of laughter. White teeth flashed in a tanned and ruggedly handsome face.

  Oh my goodness, it’s the man who waved to me. He’s the captain, no less.

  She inclined her head graciously and stepped back into the shadows of the wheelhouse as he treaded water and kept his gaze fixed on her. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she swallowed. Never before had she laid eyes on such a fine-looking man. She sank back into the pile of ropes with her hand on her chest as her heart beat a tattoo in her chest.

  The laughter and ribald comments continued and she watched from the shadows as he swam toward the boat. A rope was thrown down to him and Madeleine gasped as he pulled himself up the side of the boat. Strong muscular thighs were outlined by his wet breeches and water droplets ran down his bare back. His muscles flexed as he pulled himself hand over hand up the rope.

  “Your uncle is looking for you.” Madeleine jumped and looked around as Jake’s urgent whisper reached her as he scurried past with his freckled face looking down. She shot him a grateful glance and stood carefully, smoothing her hands down the stiff fabric of her black bombazine mourning dress. She adjusted her bonnet and put a smile on her face as she stepped around the wheel house to face the thunderous look on Uncle Titus’s face.

  “I instructed you to stay below deck.” His voice was cold and he grabbed her arm.

  “I am sorry, Uncle. I was feeling poorly and came above deck for a draught of fresh air.”

  “Ready yourself. We are going ashore to meet Jeremiah Benjamin, your future husband,”

  “My what?” Cold dismay filled her chest.

  “You are to marry Jeremiah and travel with him to Antigua. The Lord has spoken to me and I shall be leaving you with him as I go to minister to the heathens.”

  “I will not.”

  Uncle Titus held her arm tightly and Madeline winced as he lowered his face to hers.

  “You will. We are to meet him in the town. I do not wish that he witness your disobedience.” Her arm burned from where his fingers pressed through the stiff fabric of her dress. The captain has kindly allowed us to sleep on board tonight to save seeking lodgings in town.”

  “Yes, Uncle Titus.” Madeleine kept her voice meek as her stomach burned with anger. How could a man be so different from his brother? She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes as she thought of Father. He would have been horrified to see how Uncle Titus treated her.

  But only for a few more hours. Soon she would make good her escape. When they went ashore she would look around to seek the best way to elude her uncle…and her intended husband.

  ***

  Sébastien glanced up at the British frigate moored beside his vessel. He knew his square rigger looked out of place in the river beside the sloops and the flat boats of the river traders, and was sure he gained extra interest from those who knew what his vessel was capable of.

  But not for much longer.

  It had been a difficulty mooring for the frigate beside his vessel as the tide had raced past, and the captain had had to send for a large flat boat to pull them in with ropes. One of the African slaves had stood next to Sébastien as the dozen men had grunted and rowed the flat boat until the frigate was pulled in close to the quay. A glimmer of a smile had crossed the dark-skinned face and he’d commented most ungraciously on the talents of the captain of the British vessel. Sébastien had shot him a curious look. The man’s knowledge had surprised him throughout the voyage.

  After a last order to the first mate to keep the crew on board—and sober—until he returned, Sébastien strolled down the gangplank. The afternoon shadows were lengthening and the number of boats crowded side-by-side made the wharf area even darker. As soon as he reported to the governor, and he found out the details of his very last mission—he allowed a brief smile to cross his face—he would seek some pleasure in the town. He picked his step up a pace and jumped off the end of the timbered plank, watching out for the mud that had been churned up by the traffic on the wharf that day.

  Sébastien looked curiously at the British frigate. It was still not secured to the quay and two crewmen were bringing down the sails. A young cabin boy gave him a cheery wave from the aft deck and Sébastien grinned back at him.

  Someone else who was pleased to see the shore. It was damn good to have his feet on land again.

  There was no sign of the young woman who had looked down at him in the water. A pretty blush had stained her high cheekbones, almost as dark as the rosy red of her pretty lips. He would seek out one of his female acquaintances in the tavern tonight. If the reaction of his body to a pretty woman, despite the chill of the river water, was any indication,
the pleasure of a warm soft body against his was long overdue.

  But first things first. The governor would have had word by now that his boat was moored at the quays and he needed to make his way to the meeting.

  ***

  “Tonight?” Sébastien stared at Governor Carondelet, dismayed by the instruction he had just been given, yet delighted that his last mission was imminent. “Francisco, as much as that suits me very well, my crew will be rebellious if they do not have at least one night on land.”

  Governor Carondelet flicked a speck of imaginary dust off the waist-length satin waistcoat beneath his cutaway tailored coat. “Time is of the essence, Sébastien.” The governor’s delicate eyebrows were raised in surprise; he was obviously taken aback that a mere ship’s captain would challenge him, no matter the successful intelligence work that Sébastien had done for him for the past two years. The governor’s time in the Spanish-held settlement had been busy as he had attempted to thwart the Americans from trying to secure unchallenged access to the Mississippi River. But, since the Treaty of San Lorenzo had established a friendship between the United States and Spain and defined the boundaries of the United States with the Spanish colonies, Carondelet’s attention had now turned to the slave trade which he abhorred as much as Sébastien.

  “It has been reported that the British trader, the Ann Marie is heading to Barbados, loaded with slaves, and it is without an escort.” The governor’s smile was bland. “We can take advantage of the attention that the British navy is now paying to the French on the seas. The Ann Marie can be intercepted before she reaches the West Indies. But you only have ten days, before it is too late. They departed the Gold Coast of Africa six weeks ago.”

  “And what shall I do with the cargo?”

  “I will leave that to you, for the time being, Sébastien.” The governor crossed to the ornate oak sideboard and lifted the decanter of port. The golden liquid caught the candlelight as he removed the cut glass stopper. “I have more concerns with the fear of a further rebellion in Louisiana since the new slave code has been introduced. The slave owners are, shall we say, less than enamored of me at the present time.”