Heart Of The Storm. Mary Burton
coat, black pants, polished knee-high boots and a wide-brimmed hat. A black beard covered his olive-skinned face. Captain Antoine LaFortune. The innkeeper had said LaFortune would give her passage, no questions asked.
Gathering her courage, she climbed the steep, slippery wooden plank and stepped onto the deck. The captain noticed her instantly, his gaze lean and hungry.
The fine Belgium lace of her veil fluttered in the wind and her black wool skirts rustled as she stepped over the thick coiled rope on deck. The ship smelled of tobacco and lumber.
Each man working on deck stopped to watch her as she walked toward the captain. The redheaded sailor grinned at her and licked his lips.
Captain LaFortune climbed down from the upper deck and tugged at the edges of his cuffs. The former blockade-runner’s belly was round, straining the buttons on his vest. His face was pock-marked under his beard and he wore his thinning black hair tied at the nape of his neck. “Bonjour, madame.”
Through her veil she looked up at him. “Bonjour, monsieur. Captain LaFortune?”
He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Oui. Américaine?”
“Oui.”
“I speak English,” he said proudly. “How may I be of service to you, my lady?”
Her spine was so straight she imagined it would snap. “I need passage.”
He lifted a brow, amused. “I command a freighter, madame. I am an honest businessman who carries lumber, tobacco and wine, not young widows.”
She kept her voice even. From what she’d been told, he did most anything if the price was right. “The innkeeper of the Salty Dog on First Street said you carry special passengers from time to time.”
His eyes reminded her of black buttons. “Perhaps I do.”
Aware that the other sailors could hear, she lowered her voice. “Where are you sailing to on this voyage?”
He leaned a fraction closer. The scent of his unwashed body overpowered her. She wrinkled her nose. “Do I know you, madame?”
Nervously she fingered the lace trimming her reticule. “I don’t think so.”
Peter, as head of Venture Shipping, was quite well known on the East Coast. He’d made his fortune during the war, trading with the South and the North. Her husband had insisted she always travel with him since they’d married. It was very possible she and LaFortune had crossed paths. Most assuredly, he’d heard of Peter. She prayed he didn’t recognize her.
His eyes narrowed. “I think you are wrong, madame. I can’t place you now, but it will come to me. I have a very good memory and your voice is quite unique. It reminds me of the women in the Mediterranean.”
Her heart raced but she kept her voice even. “Your destination, sir?”
He studied her a moment longer, then shrugged. “To the port of St. Thomas. It can be a rough place for a woman alone.”
She was only sorry it wasn’t farther away from Washington. “That will do.”
His gaze glided up and down her petite frame. “Passage is not cheap.”
Rachel had nearly one hundred dollars. Peter rarely had cash in the house but he had set the money aside to buy flowers for their first anniversary party. She’d wedged open his desk with a letter opener and taken the money. “How much?”
As if he read her mind he said, “Two hundred dollars.”
“That’s triple the going rate of the passenger ships!”
He rubbed the thick black stubble on his chin, no hint of apology in his eyes. “Oui, it is.”
Rachel’s heart sank. It was only a matter of time before Peter found her. He’d be returning to the town house tomorrow or the next day at the latest. She had to leave the country.
Her thoughts turned to her wedding band. Encircled with diamonds and rubies, it was worth a small fortune. She tugged off the glove on her left hand and removed her ring. “This should cover my passage.”
The captain took her ring and studied it. He held it up to the light. “It is an exquisite piece of jewelry indeed.”
She’d grown to hate the ring and all that it symbolized. “It’s one of a kind.”
His gaze sharpened with interest. He looked inside the band. “There is an inscription,” he said. “Forever and always.”
“Yes.” On her wedding day when she’d read the words, she’d been touched. Now they haunted her.
He held the ring up so that the sunlight reflected in the gems. “A widow who trades her wedding band must be quite desperate to leave.”
Her knees were shaking, but she held her chin high. “Do you accept my offer or not, Captain?”
LaFortune studied the ring a beat longer.
Rachel held her breath.
“Oui,” he said finally, tucking the ring into his vest pocket. “How could I resist such a generous offer? Welcome aboard the Anna St. Claire.”
His greeting didn’t offer much relief. This journey was the first of many to come. She had enough funds to get her through the next few months, but beyond that she didn’t know what she was going to do. “Thank you.”
The captain glanced around her. “And your bags?”
When she’d left the town house she’d not taken a bag fearing some of the servants loyal to Peter would contact him. She’d told her maid she was going to shop for an anniversary gift for Peter. “I’ve none.”
“And the mystery deepens. So young. No luggage. And a widow. That is regrettable.”
“Yes, regrettable.”
“Do you have a name, madame?”
“I believe I have just paid for my privacy.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Oui. You have. But then we have eight days to get to know one another very well.”
Peter had taught her to school her emotions. Though she wanted to run from this vile ship, she held her ground. “We shall see.”
The captain signaled his first officer over. The large, heavyset man moved toward them with uncommon agility. “Yes, Captain?”
“Rubin, show madame to my cabin. She will be traveling with us. Mr. Rubin keeps the eight men on this ship in line, including myself sometimes.”
Rubin glanced down at her. His gaze traveled over her black dress and veiled face. “A woman is bad luck, but a widow is daring fate to destroy us. The men will not like it.”
LaFortune shrugged. “She is paying well.”
“We’ve had smooth sailing since New York,” the old sailor said. “Why tempt the seas now? Our lives are not worth whatever fare she has paid.”
The captain’s smile flattened. “Madame, you must excuse Rubin. He has sailed the seas for over forty years, but he is quite superstitious.”
Rachel sensed the power play between the two men. She kept silent.
“Good luck is why I’ve lived so long,” Rubin said.
The captain’s gaze hardened.
Rubin wasn’t happy, but he knew when he had pushed too far. “Very well. But we will regret this.” He nodded toward the small door that led to the hold below. “This way.”
As Rachel started to turn, the wind caught her veil and whisked it back off her face. For an instant her gaze caught the captain’s. She saw his eyes spark with interest as he studied the bruise marring her left eye. She quickly grabbed the veil and pulled it back in place.
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