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The plot thickens...
It wasn’t seconds after the words passed her lips there was a loud but distant crack, no possibility it wasn’t a pistol shot. Laffite pushed off the wall so quick it frightened her as arm abruptly was around her waist pulling her close, his head up and eyes alert. “Pistol shot,” he said needlessly. Several seconds of silence when a far-off rumbling was getting closer, alarmingly near. It seemed to echo off and through the walls of the cave, around and above them. Turning to him eyes wide; it sounded as if the ceiling of these limestone works of art was crashing down on their heads. She had no time to scream though it was in her throat; Pierre threw himself over top of her and she felt the strength in this man as he pulled her close, tucking her beneath him. The sound was unmistakable and terrifying, rocks falling on and around them from all sides. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, inhaling and holding her breath; it sounded and felt like the ceiling was falling for the ground beneath was vibrating as stone fell upon stone. She felt safer perhaps than she should’ve, acutely aware of the powerful man’s embrace while he shielded her from harm with himself.Longer than a moment it continued and she was forced to exhale, taking another shaky breath. Finally, the reverberating in her chest dissipated before it stopped completely. Rocks still fell around them; becoming more conscious of muscular arms locked around her Henley took another deep breath. But Laffite wasn’t able to block out dust from the cave in; she coughed several times. Immediately he released her standing in one quick motion extending a hand. The only way she was able to vaguely see was because of the distant moonlight at the end as both of course dropped their candles. Frightened but grateful eyes met his as she grasped outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She heard him striking a match off the wall and his extra candle kept on his person threw light a moment later. “What…” unknowing what to say. She’d been scared but was still reeling from the instant action he took, as well as being completely enveloped in his arms. Again.
Holding her gaze, watching her face turn the attractive shade of pink; the audacious curve of mouth both calmed and indicated he knew her thoughts. “I don’t understand unless that shot…” her voice trailing off. Pierre brushed off dust and pieces of rock, nodding. “Had t’ be, must be another wild boar,” the teasing tone making her smile despite herself. Seeing his words did what intended; Laffite turned to the only space in the wall dividing the two sections of cavern; closing the few steps reaching out, carefully inspecting the limestone. “See if y’ can find your candle,” she heard. Dropping to her haunches blindly feeling since there was no seeing; “Found it!” surprise evident, stepping beside him passing her candle. Lighting it off his when he held the two high revealing the opening they came through, there was no stopping her quick intake of air. The space they just walked was gone, as if it were never there. Filled in with rocks both big and small now appearing just another part of the wall of rock. “Now what?” disliking how her voice sounded. Oddly enough she wasn’t afraid with him here, it was completely different than when she was alone in the pitch black especially because he knew these caves. He shook his head, pulling a few rocks out and tossing them aside. Turning to face her flashing familiar reckless grin; “We dig or I find another way.” Her lips pressed tight glancing at the enormity of the task; “We’ll be here for the next day to make a little progress,” her tone doubtful. He stepped beside her to survey the stone, tossing shoulder. “I suggest we wait till they come looking which if I know West an’ Jean that’ll be th’ first thing they do, if they’re not already. They know th’ shot caused a cave in, heard an’ felt it; they’ll be coming t’ see ‘bout us.” The man handed the light back, fisted one hip with his free throwing her unworried smile. Gesturing to the side wall he’d been leaning against just before they heard the shot Pierre took a step towards it and sat back on his haunches with his back to it. Hesitating briefly she stepped a pace away and took a seat. Casually holding her candle before her asking what she believed was a logical question. “What do we do when the candles burn out?” Laffite chuckled. “That’ll be awhile, an’ don’t forget I know these caves. We can see th’ moon’s out, certain I can find another way, just don’t remember it’s been so long.” Sighing but relaxing against the stone, chuckling low. “I seem to not do well in these caves, at least this time I’m not lost alone.” His humor was wry. “We’re not lost che`ri, trapped perhaps but not lost.” “Well that’s comforting,” not intending to sound bitter but she couldn’t help it. Still fresh in her mind were Ethan’s words a short time ago, his doubt. Not that she blamed him. Here she was with a real problem, completely separated from the others with the way back cut off. Involuntarily the makings of a smile touched the corner of her mouth, the problem wasn’t in her hands; hearing West say earlier to Laffite ‘look after her’ in addition remembering his knowledge of these limestone catacombs. The problem really was out of her hands. The odd thing being trapped as they were not foremost on her mind, Ethan’s words and suspicions was. She didn’t wonder why he had these questions, really, she understood! What hurt was knowing she fell for him and remembering all her time from the beginning; when he ‘rescued’ her from the drunk her first time in Viejo. Dancing in his arms the way he looked at her, in Port au Prince just a short time ago he’d held her in his arms several times making her heart pound as if it were the first. Sharing coffee at his favorite bistro in Santo Domingo and divulging things about himself; marrying him in La Fortaleza castle… How quickly they’d built a history, from finding herself in his arms that first night on Sonora after her nightmare to fooling Pierre Laffite, smuggler and pirate right out of his silver. Releasing the heavy sigh Henley had forgotten she was not alone until the male voice startled her. “It’ll be alright amour.” Whipping her head found the gaze penetrating deeper than she wanted. Offering wane smile she shrugged. “Not worried just thinking.” It was quiet when again he couldn’t believe what he said. It wasn’t Laffite was trying to do West a favor, he genuinely didn’t want to see her hurting and knew the other man’s words cut deep. “Y’ know he didn’t mean anything, if he can’t explain something he also can’t let it go.” Clenching her eyes shut tightly she repeated the words to herself; apparently even Ethan’s friend didn’t think he was serious; not making her feel much better. Holding the candle with a hand balanced on knee she took a breath and nodded, it didn’t help to be worrying over that now. They had bigger problems. Laffite hadn’t taken his eyes off her as usual so he saw when she decided to push the troubling thoughts away, for the moment at least. “You really think they’ll come looking?” He chuckled; “They’re already on their way, I’d bet that silver bar an’ every one of those pieces of eight.”
At that she met his eyes and did smile. “Certain aren’t you?” His free hand casually gestured; “Especially since y’ were lost once already.” Averting her eyes Henley glanced to their left, apparently the outside with moonlight filtering in. If they weren’t talking all that could be heard was the rapidly flowing stream making her think suddenly. “Despite what I’ve experienced here, I still think these caves are beautiful and mysterious.” Laffite agreed. “That they are. Think of your visit t’ them as an adventure.” They conversed off and on with moments of silence that weren’t uncomfortable for the better part of thirty minutes when Pierre held up a hand stopping her mid-sentence. She closed her mouth watching his eyes narrow as he stared without focusing. Then wondering if she didn’t hear something as well, so far away positive she was mistaken. Abruptly in one fluid motion he stood stepping closer to the filled in opening and leaning his head towards it. “West! Jean! In here!” his loud voice frightened and startled her; she jumped though sitting. Hearing him yell after talking quietly for the past half hour inadvertently started her heart pounding but more than that, it was the names he called. Excited she leapt to her feet closing the few steps to stand beside him holding her candle to view the impenetrable rock. Laffite was quiet with his ear facing the stone, eyes meeting hers. It was no more than seconds when several voices were heard though muffled; Pierre broke into a grin as she herself started to smile. They found them! “Henley with you, y’ alright?” she heard the voice she knew was Ethan, as if it weren’t for the rocks he’d be within touching distance. The man before her continued to flash the expression while he answered, as if he’d never been worried to begin with. Truth be told, not believing he was. “She’s right ‘ere, we’re both fine, a little dusty,” chuckling. Silence from all when they heard Jean’s voice. “It’ll take us at least half a day with all of us digging to get halfway through the mess out here, you know them best. Is there another way out?” Laffite frowned glancing around their surroundings without really seeing. “Don’t remember, I’ll look.” He glanced in the direction of the distant moonlight.
“Believe I can see light from th’ moon, if we’re this close t’ th’ outside our way might be there.” More silence from both sides as everyone was in thought when West’s voice broke the ‘quiet’. “Henley,” he called. Leaning closer to the rocks as close as she could bracing with her hands she answered. “I’m here Ethan.” It was quiet with no response for long enough she figured he didn’t hear her and was about to call again when she heard him. “We went down th’ tunnel on th’ right.” More silence; she caught Laffite’s gaze but offered one hand in confusion when Ethan was heard again. “Henley, we found it.” Her mouth parted and even Pierre looked surprised. Silence followed his statement when he repeated it. “Did y’ hear me Henley? We found it down th’ one on th’ right like y’ thought!” Finally finding her voice she took a deep breath. “You really found it?” it was hard to believe. Then she heard several men talking and though they were separated by layers of limestone it wasn’t difficult to hear excitement. “Found it Ms Henley!” was all she really was able to make out since they were talking over each other in their enthusiasm. Laffite was grinning now despite the minor setback of the cave in. He raised his voice first pause to throw out a question.
“Why th’ pistol shot that caused this?” It’s was West that answered. “Th’ chests were locked an’ Henrick aimed his pistol t’ open one. Full of pieces of eight love, entire chest t’ th’ brim!” Now there was no wiping elation off her face as she met Laffite’s eyes, his radiating excitement. “How much is there?” he called. After a brief moment of quiet West could be heard; “There’s at least a dozen chests as well as smaller scattered crates, jewels. Too much t’ even remember,” it was easy even through the stone to envision his expression. Pierre and Jean were talking back and forth though Henley wasn’t paying attention; they found it! The Nuestra Senora de la Maravilla, Spanish galleon salvaged treasure! Once again she was momentarily speechless though her mouth was parted it was curved in the excited if disbelieving expression. These men, smugglers, pirates or privateers lived adventure every day; they were used to coming across bounty in one way or another as she had seen the silver of Pierre’s in Royal, the salvaged San Jose loot of Jean’s in Cartagena. But for a woman who did nothing but live through tales she created, living this adventure and finding what they had took her breath away. “Henley,” she suddenly realized the man whose eyes were locked on her was saying her name, his mouth angled in amusement. Pulled from her daydream her low laugh only mildly self-conscious; this was definitely a time where letting her mind wander was justified. Seeing he had her attention he nodded with his head toward the direction the moonlight was coming. “Going t’ leave you here, stay put,” firmly saying the last two words looking at her meaningfully. Confused her eyes widened slightly; “Why, where are you going?” That casual unworried smile before he answered; “I’m only going a short distance, looking for another way. You need me just call.”
She took a step away from the wall. “Why can’t I go with you?” not understanding why she had to wait. Shaking his head no, his smile kind and reassuring. “Because th’ path here above the stream is treacherous an’ I don’t remember it. I’m walking it first; where it leads or if there’s adjoining tunnels. Won’t be far love,” he encouraged gently and very briefly touching her cheek with his palm. Offering a nod coupled with the makings of smile, Henley took a deep breath attempting to slow her heart when his hand touched her cheek. Then he turned facing the darkness of the cavern but for his candle and the distant moonlight. Watching him go until she could barely focus on his candlelight, leaning against the stone she didn’t really feel alone. It was comforting that not only Ethan and Jean were just on the other side but from the sound of it quite a few men she knew. Unless they left too, after all they were on the side with the bounty! “Are you still there?” she called but not too loud lest Pierre think she was calling to him. It wasn’t but a moment when she heard a voice not West; “We’re here Henley!” Difficult to be certain since it was muffled but she was betting it was Beau who answered. “Sebastian is that you?” Now she knew she wasn’t mistaking the laughter of more than one man. “It is my dear, try not t’ explore while Laffite’s gone treasure’s on our side.” His jesting set her at ease and she no longer felt alone. Not trying to disguise her eagerness she called back. “What’s it look like, is there as much as we thought?” More laughter; “There’s more Ms Henley, we didn’t think there’d be th’ half of what there is!” certain it was Logan that answered. He was quickly joined by more voices and she couldn’t differentiate who was saying what but they conversed back and forth about chests with pieces of eight, and countless more crates with jewels as well as other objects made of gold and silver. “Where’s Ethan?” she asked when there was brief lull in the conversation. “I’m right ‘ere love,” she heard him immediately. Just hearing he was there made her feel secure despite the countless questions she had for him in addition to telling him how much he hurt her. “It was down th’ one on th’ right just as y’ thought, we didn’t even check th’ other,” West informed her. “I’m glad,” she called back not knowing what to say. His words had cut deep, especially after accusing her of being a spy in front of almost the whole crew. Her word or suggestion was not good enough earlier, he doubted and voiced it in front of others including Jean and Pierre Laffite. Shrugging, deciding she would think on it later. They found salvaged treasure from the Spanish galleon, because of what she told them; his would make a fantastic story she contemplated. Then quite abruptly she sighed and shook her head; that took her thoughts in a completely different direction and she was in too good a mood. “West!” she physically jumped at the loud voice beside her. Her eyes riveted to Pierre and narrowed in the same instant; aware he knew exactly what he was doing when he yelled. The roguish angled look proved it. “There’s no connecting tunnels t’ us, but th’ path leads directly out t’ th’ beach an’ water,” Laffite continued. Henley began to smile; just more adventure, seemed nothing more than a detour. Pierre eyes were locked on hers and he wasn’t smiling, so quickly hers began to fade. “We can get back that way, problem’s water’s too high an’ rough filled with rocks, no possible way t’ make it unless we wait till low tide in th’ morning,” he finished. His words were met with brief silence before Henley was certain it was Jean responding. “You’re sure that’s the only way?” Laffite answered his brother without averting his gaze for a second off her. “Positive, only way out unless we start digging.” He and Henley just stared at each other without a word; low tide, morning? She was trapped with Pierre Laffite until the morning…
Holding her gaze, watching her face turn the attractive shade of pink; the audacious curve of mouth both calmed and indicated he knew her thoughts. “I don’t understand unless that shot…” her voice trailing off. Pierre brushed off dust and pieces of rock, nodding. “Had t’ be, must be another wild boar,” the teasing tone making her smile despite herself. Seeing his words did what intended; Laffite turned to the only space in the wall dividing the two sections of cavern; closing the few steps reaching out, carefully inspecting the limestone. “See if y’ can find your candle,” she heard. Dropping to her haunches blindly feeling since there was no seeing; “Found it!” surprise evident, stepping beside him passing her candle. Lighting it off his when he held the two high revealing the opening they came through, there was no stopping her quick intake of air. The space they just walked was gone, as if it were never there. Filled in with rocks both big and small now appearing just another part of the wall of rock. “Now what?” disliking how her voice sounded. Oddly enough she wasn’t afraid with him here, it was completely different than when she was alone in the pitch black especially because he knew these caves. He shook his head, pulling a few rocks out and tossing them aside. Turning to face her flashing familiar reckless grin; “We dig or I find another way.” Her lips pressed tight glancing at the enormity of the task; “We’ll be here for the next day to make a little progress,” her tone doubtful. He stepped beside her to survey the stone, tossing shoulder. “I suggest we wait till they come looking which if I know West an’ Jean that’ll be th’ first thing they do, if they’re not already. They know th’ shot caused a cave in, heard an’ felt it; they’ll be coming t’ see ‘bout us.” The man handed the light back, fisted one hip with his free throwing her unworried smile. Gesturing to the side wall he’d been leaning against just before they heard the shot Pierre took a step towards it and sat back on his haunches with his back to it. Hesitating briefly she stepped a pace away and took a seat. Casually holding her candle before her asking what she believed was a logical question. “What do we do when the candles burn out?” Laffite chuckled. “That’ll be awhile, an’ don’t forget I know these caves. We can see th’ moon’s out, certain I can find another way, just don’t remember it’s been so long.” Sighing but relaxing against the stone, chuckling low. “I seem to not do well in these caves, at least this time I’m not lost alone.” His humor was wry. “We’re not lost che`ri, trapped perhaps but not lost.” “Well that’s comforting,” not intending to sound bitter but she couldn’t help it. Still fresh in her mind were Ethan’s words a short time ago, his doubt. Not that she blamed him. Here she was with a real problem, completely separated from the others with the way back cut off. Involuntarily the makings of a smile touched the corner of her mouth, the problem wasn’t in her hands; hearing West say earlier to Laffite ‘look after her’ in addition remembering his knowledge of these limestone catacombs. The problem really was out of her hands. The odd thing being trapped as they were not foremost on her mind, Ethan’s words and suspicions was. She didn’t wonder why he had these questions, really, she understood! What hurt was knowing she fell for him and remembering all her time from the beginning; when he ‘rescued’ her from the drunk her first time in Viejo. Dancing in his arms the way he looked at her, in Port au Prince just a short time ago he’d held her in his arms several times making her heart pound as if it were the first. Sharing coffee at his favorite bistro in Santo Domingo and divulging things about himself; marrying him in La Fortaleza castle… How quickly they’d built a history, from finding herself in his arms that first night on Sonora after her nightmare to fooling Pierre Laffite, smuggler and pirate right out of his silver. Releasing the heavy sigh Henley had forgotten she was not alone until the male voice startled her. “It’ll be alright amour.” Whipping her head found the gaze penetrating deeper than she wanted. Offering wane smile she shrugged. “Not worried just thinking.” It was quiet when again he couldn’t believe what he said. It wasn’t Laffite was trying to do West a favor, he genuinely didn’t want to see her hurting and knew the other man’s words cut deep. “Y’ know he didn’t mean anything, if he can’t explain something he also can’t let it go.” Clenching her eyes shut tightly she repeated the words to herself; apparently even Ethan’s friend didn’t think he was serious; not making her feel much better. Holding the candle with a hand balanced on knee she took a breath and nodded, it didn’t help to be worrying over that now. They had bigger problems. Laffite hadn’t taken his eyes off her as usual so he saw when she decided to push the troubling thoughts away, for the moment at least. “You really think they’ll come looking?” He chuckled; “They’re already on their way, I’d bet that silver bar an’ every one of those pieces of eight.”
At that she met his eyes and did smile. “Certain aren’t you?” His free hand casually gestured; “Especially since y’ were lost once already.” Averting her eyes Henley glanced to their left, apparently the outside with moonlight filtering in. If they weren’t talking all that could be heard was the rapidly flowing stream making her think suddenly. “Despite what I’ve experienced here, I still think these caves are beautiful and mysterious.” Laffite agreed. “That they are. Think of your visit t’ them as an adventure.” They conversed off and on with moments of silence that weren’t uncomfortable for the better part of thirty minutes when Pierre held up a hand stopping her mid-sentence. She closed her mouth watching his eyes narrow as he stared without focusing. Then wondering if she didn’t hear something as well, so far away positive she was mistaken. Abruptly in one fluid motion he stood stepping closer to the filled in opening and leaning his head towards it. “West! Jean! In here!” his loud voice frightened and startled her; she jumped though sitting. Hearing him yell after talking quietly for the past half hour inadvertently started her heart pounding but more than that, it was the names he called. Excited she leapt to her feet closing the few steps to stand beside him holding her candle to view the impenetrable rock. Laffite was quiet with his ear facing the stone, eyes meeting hers. It was no more than seconds when several voices were heard though muffled; Pierre broke into a grin as she herself started to smile. They found them! “Henley with you, y’ alright?” she heard the voice she knew was Ethan, as if it weren’t for the rocks he’d be within touching distance. The man before her continued to flash the expression while he answered, as if he’d never been worried to begin with. Truth be told, not believing he was. “She’s right ‘ere, we’re both fine, a little dusty,” chuckling. Silence from all when they heard Jean’s voice. “It’ll take us at least half a day with all of us digging to get halfway through the mess out here, you know them best. Is there another way out?” Laffite frowned glancing around their surroundings without really seeing. “Don’t remember, I’ll look.” He glanced in the direction of the distant moonlight.
“Believe I can see light from th’ moon, if we’re this close t’ th’ outside our way might be there.” More silence from both sides as everyone was in thought when West’s voice broke the ‘quiet’. “Henley,” he called. Leaning closer to the rocks as close as she could bracing with her hands she answered. “I’m here Ethan.” It was quiet with no response for long enough she figured he didn’t hear her and was about to call again when she heard him. “We went down th’ tunnel on th’ right.” More silence; she caught Laffite’s gaze but offered one hand in confusion when Ethan was heard again. “Henley, we found it.” Her mouth parted and even Pierre looked surprised. Silence followed his statement when he repeated it. “Did y’ hear me Henley? We found it down th’ one on th’ right like y’ thought!” Finally finding her voice she took a deep breath. “You really found it?” it was hard to believe. Then she heard several men talking and though they were separated by layers of limestone it wasn’t difficult to hear excitement. “Found it Ms Henley!” was all she really was able to make out since they were talking over each other in their enthusiasm. Laffite was grinning now despite the minor setback of the cave in. He raised his voice first pause to throw out a question.
“Why th’ pistol shot that caused this?” It’s was West that answered. “Th’ chests were locked an’ Henrick aimed his pistol t’ open one. Full of pieces of eight love, entire chest t’ th’ brim!” Now there was no wiping elation off her face as she met Laffite’s eyes, his radiating excitement. “How much is there?” he called. After a brief moment of quiet West could be heard; “There’s at least a dozen chests as well as smaller scattered crates, jewels. Too much t’ even remember,” it was easy even through the stone to envision his expression. Pierre and Jean were talking back and forth though Henley wasn’t paying attention; they found it! The Nuestra Senora de la Maravilla, Spanish galleon salvaged treasure! Once again she was momentarily speechless though her mouth was parted it was curved in the excited if disbelieving expression. These men, smugglers, pirates or privateers lived adventure every day; they were used to coming across bounty in one way or another as she had seen the silver of Pierre’s in Royal, the salvaged San Jose loot of Jean’s in Cartagena. But for a woman who did nothing but live through tales she created, living this adventure and finding what they had took her breath away. “Henley,” she suddenly realized the man whose eyes were locked on her was saying her name, his mouth angled in amusement. Pulled from her daydream her low laugh only mildly self-conscious; this was definitely a time where letting her mind wander was justified. Seeing he had her attention he nodded with his head toward the direction the moonlight was coming. “Going t’ leave you here, stay put,” firmly saying the last two words looking at her meaningfully. Confused her eyes widened slightly; “Why, where are you going?” That casual unworried smile before he answered; “I’m only going a short distance, looking for another way. You need me just call.”
She took a step away from the wall. “Why can’t I go with you?” not understanding why she had to wait. Shaking his head no, his smile kind and reassuring. “Because th’ path here above the stream is treacherous an’ I don’t remember it. I’m walking it first; where it leads or if there’s adjoining tunnels. Won’t be far love,” he encouraged gently and very briefly touching her cheek with his palm. Offering a nod coupled with the makings of smile, Henley took a deep breath attempting to slow her heart when his hand touched her cheek. Then he turned facing the darkness of the cavern but for his candle and the distant moonlight. Watching him go until she could barely focus on his candlelight, leaning against the stone she didn’t really feel alone. It was comforting that not only Ethan and Jean were just on the other side but from the sound of it quite a few men she knew. Unless they left too, after all they were on the side with the bounty! “Are you still there?” she called but not too loud lest Pierre think she was calling to him. It wasn’t but a moment when she heard a voice not West; “We’re here Henley!” Difficult to be certain since it was muffled but she was betting it was Beau who answered. “Sebastian is that you?” Now she knew she wasn’t mistaking the laughter of more than one man. “It is my dear, try not t’ explore while Laffite’s gone treasure’s on our side.” His jesting set her at ease and she no longer felt alone. Not trying to disguise her eagerness she called back. “What’s it look like, is there as much as we thought?” More laughter; “There’s more Ms Henley, we didn’t think there’d be th’ half of what there is!” certain it was Logan that answered. He was quickly joined by more voices and she couldn’t differentiate who was saying what but they conversed back and forth about chests with pieces of eight, and countless more crates with jewels as well as other objects made of gold and silver. “Where’s Ethan?” she asked when there was brief lull in the conversation. “I’m right ‘ere love,” she heard him immediately. Just hearing he was there made her feel secure despite the countless questions she had for him in addition to telling him how much he hurt her. “It was down th’ one on th’ right just as y’ thought, we didn’t even check th’ other,” West informed her. “I’m glad,” she called back not knowing what to say. His words had cut deep, especially after accusing her of being a spy in front of almost the whole crew. Her word or suggestion was not good enough earlier, he doubted and voiced it in front of others including Jean and Pierre Laffite. Shrugging, deciding she would think on it later. They found salvaged treasure from the Spanish galleon, because of what she told them; his would make a fantastic story she contemplated. Then quite abruptly she sighed and shook her head; that took her thoughts in a completely different direction and she was in too good a mood. “West!” she physically jumped at the loud voice beside her. Her eyes riveted to Pierre and narrowed in the same instant; aware he knew exactly what he was doing when he yelled. The roguish angled look proved it. “There’s no connecting tunnels t’ us, but th’ path leads directly out t’ th’ beach an’ water,” Laffite continued. Henley began to smile; just more adventure, seemed nothing more than a detour. Pierre eyes were locked on hers and he wasn’t smiling, so quickly hers began to fade. “We can get back that way, problem’s water’s too high an’ rough filled with rocks, no possible way t’ make it unless we wait till low tide in th’ morning,” he finished. His words were met with brief silence before Henley was certain it was Jean responding. “You’re sure that’s the only way?” Laffite answered his brother without averting his gaze for a second off her. “Positive, only way out unless we start digging.” He and Henley just stared at each other without a word; low tide, morning? She was trapped with Pierre Laffite until the morning…
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“Can we go see Pride from the helm before heading back below?” she asked wondering if he would think her crazy. “Of course che`ri,” taking her arm and leading her to the helm deck. Upon mounting the steps there was but one man at the wheel, and she greeted him with wide smile. “Hello Lon, just wanted to see Pride,” she explained unnecessarily. The man offered the same and nod; “Right behind us,” offering Lafitte a nod as well. He was surprised it wasn’t West showing her Jean’s ship with them, but not his business. Lafitte directed her to the farthest end of the helm deck opposite the wheel, and she gripped the side leaning to see yet nothing but blackness met her gaze. “I can’t see…” she said knowing Pride was there but thinking it so far back it was out of sight. The moon was obscured by a cloud and the surrounding water was black as pitch. She felt him move partially behind her to the side outstretching his arm pointing to direct her gaze. Try as she might Henley saw nothing. Frustrated she turned to the man; “Can’t see, with no moon I just can’t.”
Lafitte shrugged; “Patience,” he said quietly, knowing the word applied to him as well. “You almost took a spill below,” he commented on a chuckle. She blushed hoping it was not seen for the dark. “You heard I’m sure, there’s a raised floorboard nobody warned me of. Not my fault,” trying to laugh, certain it was not the rum and it really was not her fault. He leaned on his forearms angling his head to her, tossing friendly expression. “I guess privateering seems to be on hold while we chase these ships from Spain,” she said, face growing warm at his deep laugh. “Seems t’ be th’ case.” Abruptly the clouds parted affording a clear view of the relentless stare; subconsciously taking a deep breath though she didn’t look away. Abruptly he stood straight moving towards her. Her breath caught while her heart must have skipped a beat all while she was helpless to look away from this captivity of a look. Then it was broken as he moved directly behind her and his left arm reached around her left to grasp the side of the ship. He lifted his other arm on her right pointing almost straight ahead of them while his mouth pressed against her ear. “Moon’s out, look straight ahead an’ a little t’ the left.” At the order she did, unable to stifle the gasp when her eyes fell on the massive dark shape and sails maybe two-hundred yards. The sudden intake of breath was two-fold, at what she saw; the feel of the husky murmur coming from the mouth parting at her ear combined with the feel of his arms and suppressed strength had her hesitating with need to breathe. Unable to move watching the silent dark mass, willing her heart to slow. “See her?” the voice murmured. “I do,” she whispered; he didn’t move away for the lingering pause, when he did it was simply to stand straight.
Feeling solid chest so close perhaps should have frightened her, but it did not. Finding her voice Henley took another deep breath and said; “Think I’m ready for that glass now.” Lafitte chuckled audibly this time backing away but gently grasping her forearm. As they passed Lon, Pierre offered a nod but she voiced goodnight to the man. Lafitte didn’t hesitate in walking her back across the deck pausing briefly just in front of the ajar door leading below, with easy tilt of mouth. “You’ll be able t’ see better in th’ daylight,” he assured her.
Lafitte shrugged; “Patience,” he said quietly, knowing the word applied to him as well. “You almost took a spill below,” he commented on a chuckle. She blushed hoping it was not seen for the dark. “You heard I’m sure, there’s a raised floorboard nobody warned me of. Not my fault,” trying to laugh, certain it was not the rum and it really was not her fault. He leaned on his forearms angling his head to her, tossing friendly expression. “I guess privateering seems to be on hold while we chase these ships from Spain,” she said, face growing warm at his deep laugh. “Seems t’ be th’ case.” Abruptly the clouds parted affording a clear view of the relentless stare; subconsciously taking a deep breath though she didn’t look away. Abruptly he stood straight moving towards her. Her breath caught while her heart must have skipped a beat all while she was helpless to look away from this captivity of a look. Then it was broken as he moved directly behind her and his left arm reached around her left to grasp the side of the ship. He lifted his other arm on her right pointing almost straight ahead of them while his mouth pressed against her ear. “Moon’s out, look straight ahead an’ a little t’ the left.” At the order she did, unable to stifle the gasp when her eyes fell on the massive dark shape and sails maybe two-hundred yards. The sudden intake of breath was two-fold, at what she saw; the feel of the husky murmur coming from the mouth parting at her ear combined with the feel of his arms and suppressed strength had her hesitating with need to breathe. Unable to move watching the silent dark mass, willing her heart to slow. “See her?” the voice murmured. “I do,” she whispered; he didn’t move away for the lingering pause, when he did it was simply to stand straight.
Feeling solid chest so close perhaps should have frightened her, but it did not. Finding her voice Henley took another deep breath and said; “Think I’m ready for that glass now.” Lafitte chuckled audibly this time backing away but gently grasping her forearm. As they passed Lon, Pierre offered a nod but she voiced goodnight to the man. Lafitte didn’t hesitate in walking her back across the deck pausing briefly just in front of the ajar door leading below, with easy tilt of mouth. “You’ll be able t’ see better in th’ daylight,” he assured her.
Cartagena...
Coming beside the Spanish woman, Henley ordered herself a drink; hearing a woman’s voice so close the former glanced at her raising a thin dark brow. “What would you like to drink?” Henley asked in English believing it would be understood. Consuela glanced the barman speaking Spanish; the former glanced Pierre leaning toward him. “Won’t you join us?” expression revealing she knew exactly what she was doing. With amusement, he ordered and then lay several coins for all three drinks. The Columbian woman was suspicious of course, noticing this woman sitting with West and Sonora crew but thought nothing of it. What did she want? Not until their drinks came and both women sampled them did Henley turn to Pierre, gesturing him to stand on the side but between them. She went on to explain her request; Consuela nodded as Pierre translated, confused as to why this other woman would be asking such. He wondered as well but said nothing. “Ask her if I can buy them from her.” His brows shot up but his eyes glinted humor; she looked worried. “Can I borrow some money, silver please?” she pleaded never considering how she would pay for what she desired. But Pierre laughed with genuine mirth and nodded. Consuela pushed away from the counter saying a few words to Laffite before disappearing. Taking the woman’s spot, leaning forearm holding drink with the other watching the one who continued to captivate him. Her gaze questioning as she watched Consuela fade into the crowd. “She’s getting what y’ requested,” answering unasked question. The satisfied look confused him as well as her request. Resting both forearms now; nervously she took a sip. She was far from afraid around him, quite the opposite but now having distinctly felt tempered strength in his embrace; just the thought warming her face. He was curious as to the red in her cheeks but decided to spare her, not asking and the tilt of mouth was kept private. After a drink inclining toward her. “Are y’ going t’ enlighten me why I’m asking for coal pencil, red paint an’ a filing stone?” he chuckled. Standing straight surprised as if it just occurred to her, which in fact it did. What this man must think of her odd request! Facing him her, eyes self-conscious. “What you must think of me!” but Pierre continued his low chuckle; a flash of silver as hand passed carelessly through the air. “I should’ve told you! I’m assuming in her line of work she might possibly have such items, at the table I thought of asking her; should’ve told you, I’m sorry.” It only deepened his angled expression. “You didn’t answer me,” not taking his eyes off her. Really curious now; he stopped laughing and leaned closer becoming serious, “Tell me,” encouraging gently. It worked. She sighed before taking a deep breath. “I paint my toes.” He couldn’t have stopped the reaction if he’d expected the answer. His eyes grew and he laughed deep, the corners of his eyes creasing in humor. Even more self-conscious, facing the bar she gripped the almost full glass tightly; this was a bad idea. But then she felt his muscled arm brush hers, heard the low murmur in her ear. “Show me.”
She laughed lifting the glass for a taste, show him? Glancing at the man watching her intently, aware he was serious. Shrugging she pushed out from the counter several inches still keeping one arm on it, the glass secure in that hand; her other reached for his forearm grasping firmly as she balanced all weight on her right leg and foot. Laffite braced his arm to balance her while his eyes followed hers to the floor. Carefully she slipped off the left deck shoe raising her foot only a little. His mouth parted before breaking into the roguish slant. “Your toes look like red wine, an’ y’ wear a band of silver!” he laughed. Gripping his arm firmly and the counter with the other she managed to slip back into the deck shoe. Looking at him with red face, colliding with penetrating gaze wondering what he thought of her. Muttering as much under her breath; “What you must think of me,” staring at the liquid in her glass. In the next breath, mouth parted against flesh of ear and husky voice reassured. “I love your red toes mon seul ve`ritable amour.” Unmoving, not sure all he said but his voice combined with the entire situation…At last she gently pulled away for another taste of the soothing liquid. Chuckling with shake of head, Pierre lifted his own for another healthy pull. Henley wondered he said but nearly didn’t want to know for if his voice alone had that effect, it might be best not to know the words accompanying it. Standing in relative quiet as knowledge what she asked settled; “I’m sorry asking you to pay for something after I’m responsible for the loss of your silver in the first place. I’ve got some nerve and didn’t think it through,” she apologized earnestly turning entreating eyes on him. His free hand brushed her cheek; at that moment Consuela approached the two rudely reaching between them to grasp her drink; thrusting the small tan cloth pouch at Henley. As soon as her fingers closed around it the woman’s curt voice rang out; “Dos do`lares.” With parted mouth she looked at Pierre with apology, but he was already handing Consuela double she asked for jerking his head at her she could leave. With toss of head and taking the drink bought for her, the Columbian woman vanished. Focusing on the other woman Pierre smiled for her expression was filled with appreciation. “Two dollars?” she asked. Chuckling he nodded. “Gave her twice that t’ leave,” he responded. “Thank you,” Henley murmured fisting the tan pouch tightly. He gestured to their table with raised brow. Almost back at the table tugging his forearm; inclining his head unnoticeably towards her. “What’d you say after you love the red?” The moment the words passed her lips she wanted to take them back; she should have asked him later as they were only steps away from the table. Chuckling audibly he leaned further; “I love your red toes my one true love.” Then he guided her by the hand behind Jean depositing her gently in her seat before taking the one beside. Why wouldn’t her heart slow? Tightly clutching the small pouch and almost full drink, musing this was beyond out of her element. All she wrote, dreamed up, characters she created were no comparison to reality. Believing herself ready for anything nothing could have prepared her for this. Her eyes were glued to the table glimpsing the food, mugs and glasses some empty but for all her courage couldn’t find enough to glance Ethan’s way nor meet Pierre’s gaze; feeling both. Maybe it was the rum, perhaps the surrounding pirates and atmosphere but there was no controlling her wandering mind this time. How did this happen to her? She was great at writing adventures too fantastic she would never experience; at least that was what she had told West in Santo Domingo, or was it San Juan? Cynical chuckle and head shake she hoped went unnoticed; this was more than even she was ready for. It was easy to write about other hearts when she was able to control thoughts, emotions, characters not real. It was quite a different matter to find yourself thrust in the middle of one of her tales where these characters were real, hearts were real and not resting in between the pages of her mind.
She laughed lifting the glass for a taste, show him? Glancing at the man watching her intently, aware he was serious. Shrugging she pushed out from the counter several inches still keeping one arm on it, the glass secure in that hand; her other reached for his forearm grasping firmly as she balanced all weight on her right leg and foot. Laffite braced his arm to balance her while his eyes followed hers to the floor. Carefully she slipped off the left deck shoe raising her foot only a little. His mouth parted before breaking into the roguish slant. “Your toes look like red wine, an’ y’ wear a band of silver!” he laughed. Gripping his arm firmly and the counter with the other she managed to slip back into the deck shoe. Looking at him with red face, colliding with penetrating gaze wondering what he thought of her. Muttering as much under her breath; “What you must think of me,” staring at the liquid in her glass. In the next breath, mouth parted against flesh of ear and husky voice reassured. “I love your red toes mon seul ve`ritable amour.” Unmoving, not sure all he said but his voice combined with the entire situation…At last she gently pulled away for another taste of the soothing liquid. Chuckling with shake of head, Pierre lifted his own for another healthy pull. Henley wondered he said but nearly didn’t want to know for if his voice alone had that effect, it might be best not to know the words accompanying it. Standing in relative quiet as knowledge what she asked settled; “I’m sorry asking you to pay for something after I’m responsible for the loss of your silver in the first place. I’ve got some nerve and didn’t think it through,” she apologized earnestly turning entreating eyes on him. His free hand brushed her cheek; at that moment Consuela approached the two rudely reaching between them to grasp her drink; thrusting the small tan cloth pouch at Henley. As soon as her fingers closed around it the woman’s curt voice rang out; “Dos do`lares.” With parted mouth she looked at Pierre with apology, but he was already handing Consuela double she asked for jerking his head at her she could leave. With toss of head and taking the drink bought for her, the Columbian woman vanished. Focusing on the other woman Pierre smiled for her expression was filled with appreciation. “Two dollars?” she asked. Chuckling he nodded. “Gave her twice that t’ leave,” he responded. “Thank you,” Henley murmured fisting the tan pouch tightly. He gestured to their table with raised brow. Almost back at the table tugging his forearm; inclining his head unnoticeably towards her. “What’d you say after you love the red?” The moment the words passed her lips she wanted to take them back; she should have asked him later as they were only steps away from the table. Chuckling audibly he leaned further; “I love your red toes my one true love.” Then he guided her by the hand behind Jean depositing her gently in her seat before taking the one beside. Why wouldn’t her heart slow? Tightly clutching the small pouch and almost full drink, musing this was beyond out of her element. All she wrote, dreamed up, characters she created were no comparison to reality. Believing herself ready for anything nothing could have prepared her for this. Her eyes were glued to the table glimpsing the food, mugs and glasses some empty but for all her courage couldn’t find enough to glance Ethan’s way nor meet Pierre’s gaze; feeling both. Maybe it was the rum, perhaps the surrounding pirates and atmosphere but there was no controlling her wandering mind this time. How did this happen to her? She was great at writing adventures too fantastic she would never experience; at least that was what she had told West in Santo Domingo, or was it San Juan? Cynical chuckle and head shake she hoped went unnoticed; this was more than even she was ready for. It was easy to write about other hearts when she was able to control thoughts, emotions, characters not real. It was quite a different matter to find yourself thrust in the middle of one of her tales where these characters were real, hearts were real and not resting in between the pages of her mind.
Jean Laffite's pub Port au Prince
The barman arrived with her full mug smiling with wave of his hand; she had walked to the counter without a peso, never having thought. Chuckling inwardly, thanking the man; one did not need think about such when you showed up with the owner. Turning and starting for the three tables filled with two Lafitte brothers, Sonora crew and the countless others with Pride’s crew. The grip on each of her upper arms was a surprise albeit a painful one as the squeeze resulted in her brief exclamation. Focusing on the tables ahead; not that much of a shock virtually every set of eyes were on her. Good, then they saw the trouble she was in. A quick glance told her it was the Latin men; why would they bother her though? As they approached the table with West, both Lafitte brothers and two Sonora crew she especially trusted their faces revealed alarm and anger. Her eyes riveted to West first; he looked like someone punched him in the stomach. “Lafitte, you have something that belongs to us. We don’t have time to play with words, give us what you took and we’ll let you have this woman you seem to value.” Henley was thoroughly confused though now focusing on Jean; there was recognition in his narrowed gaze at the men who so roughly held her. Jean stepped away from the table offering casual hand in the air; “What could I possibly have that belongs to you?” the partial quirk to his mouth false. The taller man jerked her close and she felt the tip of the dagger pressed to her side; pushing only a hair, mouth parted as she cried out. Several men at the table moved a step; Jean stopped holding up his hands.
“Se`nor believe I may just have the documents you seek, if you’ll wait I’ll retrieve them,” starting for the side door to the pub. The taller Latin man tightened the grip on her arm drawing her close, jabbing the dagger further into her side. Unable to help the audible gasp, her head falling back in automatic reaction to the blade’s point. Jean stopped again; “I’ll get the documents. If you don’t take that blade from her side I’ll burn them before your eyes,” promising with meaningful look. They held her fast but the short dagger was removed, and the younger Lafitte was gone gesturing one of his men to follow. Without the knife pressing focusing on the men before her; consolation so many high tops were filled with men from both ships, focused solely on her. Aware the music ceased, the tavern a moment ago filled with noise and laughter had fallen unusually quiet. Her frightened gaze leveled with West; close enough she saw the muscle move in his jaw indicating his anger and hoped he was still; this was real and she was terrified. Glancing across Pierre stood straight, the look on his face and eyes fierce. The quiet was unnerving when she felt something being taken from her hand. Lowering her eyes revealed the shorter man taking the full mug from her hand; she had walked away from the counter with it. Prying it from her fingers the man tipped it back downing it with several long swallows. When he finished flashing cruel smirk at nobody, tossing the empty mug on the floor behind him. The tall one squeezed her arm painfully to the point it started to tingle from lack of blood flow; appreciating the need to keep quiet managing to bite her tongue but his grip was only getting tighter. Ripping her arm violently downward did nothing to loosen his hold, if anything it was tighter yet. “You’re breaking my arm,” she hissed almost hoping the men on edge would not hear. The taller Latino jerked her to him; “Shut up,” he growled. The sound was unmistakable and she knew instantly what it was; hearing more than one click of a pistol as it was readied to fire. West, Pierre, Beau and Reese had their pistols leveled in the direction of Henley and the two men. Eyes falling on the scene before her was reassuring, knowing there was no reason for it. Lafitte and Beau were on the opposite side so the pistols seemed completely natural in the relaxed hands of the men resting them on the table; West and Reese held theirs low next to their hips looking eerily characteristic.“Hombres, no es necesario sert crueles,” the former said in a warning tone. The grip on her arm lessoned considerably; daring take a breath in relief. It wasn’t seconds later Jean and his crewman reentered the pub; holding several papers he walked straight for the front high top. Glancing at the men with their pistols leveled at Henley and Latin men, shaking his head. “I came just in time.” Walking forward several paces toward the woman and men Jean’s eyes fell on Henley’s briefly. “Ne t’inquie`te pas, ma che`re, don’t worry dear.” Then he focused on the men his gaze narrowing the look in his eyes threatening. “Your letters of marque,” he waved four documents without another step. The shorter man frowned outstretching his hand. “Hand them over.” The younger Lafitte shook his head. “She comes to me and you can have your precious documents. Only deal I’ll do,” dry chuckle without trace of humor. The men paused, then the one with the vice-like grip shoved her violently towards the younger Laffite. Stumbling forward she would’ve fallen if he had not caught and steadied her. Relief filled her as Jean’s arm slid around her securely. He outstretched the papers; the shorter man grabbed them, glancing at them briefly. The tall man nodded curtly to Lafitte; “We’ll see you again.” Then they turned and left the all but silent pub; none of the men lowered their pistols till they were out of sight. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Jean pulled her near, inclining his head. “You alright mi se`nora?” A wry expression was response as her eyes rose to find West’s trained on her. Without hesitation she pulled away from the pirate’s gentle grasp and went to the man with the silver-grey stare; wrapping both arms, holding her tight. For longer than she thought West kept his arms about her when she leaned, daring the smile; “That man drank all my ale.” He laughed and overhearing Pierre raised his arm; one of the barmen headed over. “I’m sorry Jean,” she said drawing all eyes. The man looked at her, surprised; “Why?” he wondered. “You went through all that trouble of apprehending Velasco to get those letters of marque, if not for me you’d still have them.” Every man at the table laughed low, self-consciously her gaze finally rested on Jean. “I still have them love,” his humor deep. Her mouth parted “I don’t understand,” she stammered. Pierre broke in. “Correct me, but I’m guessing he replaced th’ real letters with counterfeit.” Jean nodded before looking at her with warm smile. “I still have the letters, what they traded are worthless,” looking at West. “But if the real were needed for your life we would’ve traded in an instant.” Ethan nodded affirming his words. Duran approached, placing a hand over Henley’s resting on the table. “I’m afraid if I don’t steal y’ now someone else will,” as he pulled her with him. Not arguing she followed Sonora’s quartermaster willingly. “The music started again,” noticing the guitars had begun as well as talk and noise throughout the tavern. He chuckled as he clutched her waist pulling her with him. “That it has, an’ I thought if I don’t grab y’ quick someone else will, anyone else.”
“Se`nor believe I may just have the documents you seek, if you’ll wait I’ll retrieve them,” starting for the side door to the pub. The taller Latin man tightened the grip on her arm drawing her close, jabbing the dagger further into her side. Unable to help the audible gasp, her head falling back in automatic reaction to the blade’s point. Jean stopped again; “I’ll get the documents. If you don’t take that blade from her side I’ll burn them before your eyes,” promising with meaningful look. They held her fast but the short dagger was removed, and the younger Lafitte was gone gesturing one of his men to follow. Without the knife pressing focusing on the men before her; consolation so many high tops were filled with men from both ships, focused solely on her. Aware the music ceased, the tavern a moment ago filled with noise and laughter had fallen unusually quiet. Her frightened gaze leveled with West; close enough she saw the muscle move in his jaw indicating his anger and hoped he was still; this was real and she was terrified. Glancing across Pierre stood straight, the look on his face and eyes fierce. The quiet was unnerving when she felt something being taken from her hand. Lowering her eyes revealed the shorter man taking the full mug from her hand; she had walked away from the counter with it. Prying it from her fingers the man tipped it back downing it with several long swallows. When he finished flashing cruel smirk at nobody, tossing the empty mug on the floor behind him. The tall one squeezed her arm painfully to the point it started to tingle from lack of blood flow; appreciating the need to keep quiet managing to bite her tongue but his grip was only getting tighter. Ripping her arm violently downward did nothing to loosen his hold, if anything it was tighter yet. “You’re breaking my arm,” she hissed almost hoping the men on edge would not hear. The taller Latino jerked her to him; “Shut up,” he growled. The sound was unmistakable and she knew instantly what it was; hearing more than one click of a pistol as it was readied to fire. West, Pierre, Beau and Reese had their pistols leveled in the direction of Henley and the two men. Eyes falling on the scene before her was reassuring, knowing there was no reason for it. Lafitte and Beau were on the opposite side so the pistols seemed completely natural in the relaxed hands of the men resting them on the table; West and Reese held theirs low next to their hips looking eerily characteristic.“Hombres, no es necesario sert crueles,” the former said in a warning tone. The grip on her arm lessoned considerably; daring take a breath in relief. It wasn’t seconds later Jean and his crewman reentered the pub; holding several papers he walked straight for the front high top. Glancing at the men with their pistols leveled at Henley and Latin men, shaking his head. “I came just in time.” Walking forward several paces toward the woman and men Jean’s eyes fell on Henley’s briefly. “Ne t’inquie`te pas, ma che`re, don’t worry dear.” Then he focused on the men his gaze narrowing the look in his eyes threatening. “Your letters of marque,” he waved four documents without another step. The shorter man frowned outstretching his hand. “Hand them over.” The younger Lafitte shook his head. “She comes to me and you can have your precious documents. Only deal I’ll do,” dry chuckle without trace of humor. The men paused, then the one with the vice-like grip shoved her violently towards the younger Laffite. Stumbling forward she would’ve fallen if he had not caught and steadied her. Relief filled her as Jean’s arm slid around her securely. He outstretched the papers; the shorter man grabbed them, glancing at them briefly. The tall man nodded curtly to Lafitte; “We’ll see you again.” Then they turned and left the all but silent pub; none of the men lowered their pistols till they were out of sight. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Jean pulled her near, inclining his head. “You alright mi se`nora?” A wry expression was response as her eyes rose to find West’s trained on her. Without hesitation she pulled away from the pirate’s gentle grasp and went to the man with the silver-grey stare; wrapping both arms, holding her tight. For longer than she thought West kept his arms about her when she leaned, daring the smile; “That man drank all my ale.” He laughed and overhearing Pierre raised his arm; one of the barmen headed over. “I’m sorry Jean,” she said drawing all eyes. The man looked at her, surprised; “Why?” he wondered. “You went through all that trouble of apprehending Velasco to get those letters of marque, if not for me you’d still have them.” Every man at the table laughed low, self-consciously her gaze finally rested on Jean. “I still have them love,” his humor deep. Her mouth parted “I don’t understand,” she stammered. Pierre broke in. “Correct me, but I’m guessing he replaced th’ real letters with counterfeit.” Jean nodded before looking at her with warm smile. “I still have the letters, what they traded are worthless,” looking at West. “But if the real were needed for your life we would’ve traded in an instant.” Ethan nodded affirming his words. Duran approached, placing a hand over Henley’s resting on the table. “I’m afraid if I don’t steal y’ now someone else will,” as he pulled her with him. Not arguing she followed Sonora’s quartermaster willingly. “The music started again,” noticing the guitars had begun as well as talk and noise throughout the tavern. He chuckled as he clutched her waist pulling her with him. “That it has, an’ I thought if I don’t grab y’ quick someone else will, anyone else.”
The sequel...
Jean stepped beside his brother with serious eyes trained on her; “There’s no choice here Henley, listen to Pierre and please try to understand.” Then averting his gaze to the men around her abruptly the group was moving, the latter’s hands still gripping hers though he hadn’t said a word. Where the dock began he stopped with her, part of ‘their’ crew continuing. Dropping her hands and gripping her waist drawing her close inclining his head; jaw set, speaking in consoling tone sensing every set of eyes on him but only focused on her. Without doubt she would blame herself for this, aware fault only rest with him. Knowing better but what else could he have done? Certain not taking immediate action would’ve resulted in far worse; learning the one who grabbed her was the chief of police, the rest of the federales present backing him without question. And he had his hands on her, Pierre chuckled inwardly without expression; as he told her he was just a man. It would not only blow their cover if they fought this, but someone would get hurt or worse and even Francisco could turn; he and his daughter lived here. It was only overnight; or so the man said though neither his brother nor himself even knew his real name, could he really be trusted? It would seem there was no choice, without question Jean had to get her out of here. He would be fine; the crew and Sonora were still here, overnight was not a problem for him. But his Henley? No question he wanted, needed her safe.
Jean gave him a nod, stepping forward gently gripping her upper arm. Without averting eyes off her Pierre called Beau; the sailing master stepped close. “Board Sonora an’ grab a few of her things quickly, she’s going with Jean we’ll follow in th’ morning.” Sebastian moved and was gone. Her brow creased deep not understanding, eyes still trained on hers he explained. “Because it was th’ chief an’ before others there’s a conflict of interests; t’ appease th’ federales an’ not endanger Francisco or his daughter, I’ll be jailed overnight. Jean’s taking Pride an’ heading for Nassau, with you,” squeezing her waist with the last words. “No! I can stay with the crew on Sonora!” the despair in her voice touched him deep; observing her countenance turn desperate. Adamantly Laffite shook his head narrowing his eyes imperceptibly. “Henley you’re leaving, y’ heard de Montejo, there’s no guarantee of your safety even on th’ ship. Bluntly put an’ wager my ships on it; I believe him. You’re going with Jean an’ his crew.” Anguish filled her eyes and settled on her mouth with desperation and sudden determination. “You can’t force me!” her voice rising in anger. The older Laffite only chuckled exchanging the briefest glance with his brother who also sported subtle quirk of mouth.
Lowering his voice more in subdued tone, intently looking into eyes always telling a story, he continued. “I ask you my love go with him; I’ll see y’ in a few days.” The firm set of her jaw combined with the look in her gaze indicated she would argue. His brow rose and hands on her waist tightened; “You will go with Jean, with or without your consent,” gaze purposeful, tone firm without room for negotiating. Her heart dropped, this was a losing battle and she knew it. Always knowing better than to cross Pierre Laffite never had there been reason; there was no possibility of winning this hand and she knew it. He saw her acquiesce and relief washed over him, looking to his brother. “Guard her with your life,” he said quietly. He nodded once gently tugging her forearm and began leading her down the dock to Pride. She trusted Jean Laffite, not afraid to be with him or his crew; but she couldn’t leave Pierre…Kindly pulling her after him and Pride loomed high above her; sucking in a deep breath of courage she glanced back at the man holding her heart. He stood at the beginning of dock, a short distance behind and to the side were Avery, Reese, Macon, Gage with several Mexican police or federales be it what they were. As she stopped the younger Laffite was forced to pause with her. Something like a cry originating in her heart rose in her throat escaping when her mouth parted, ripping free of the light grip, she sprinted back towards him. Only a matter of fifteen feet, all but collapsing in his arms.
Watching her turn and run back to him he did the natural thing besides wanting to more than anything; catching her and enfolding her in his arms. All but tasting the sweet scent of almonds clutching her securely, pressing his face against her. Certain his strength would crush for not suppressing it, yet refusing to release her. “Please y’ have t’ go with him, I’ll follow when I can.” The sound coming from her throat was choked and broken; then resolve. “Alright,” came the faintest whisper. Hands firmly on her waist he held her away to lock eyes, then brought his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Won’t be long, love you Henley,” murmuring against lips, fully covering them not a moment later. Releasing her and as she backed a step away towards Jean and Pride, sure he’d not felt pain such as this since she told him at least two months ago she wouldn’t stay with him. Unmoving he watched his brother lead her to Pride’s rope ladder the same time Beau approached with the red cloth bag he passed to Jean. Several men quickly climbed and then she stood before it, hands grasping the sides as she turned back to him. There she stood for the lingering pause in time; Laffite felt her stare and saw Jean touch her back where he stood behind her. Still Henley made no effort to start climbing as she faced him. “Go che`ri, I’m coming,” he said under his breath knowing they could not afford to waste time. “Get her out of here,” he urged his brother in elevated whisper.
As if hearing him albeit impossible Jean must have said something for abruptly she started the climb. Weight lifted from his shoulders and he breathed a sigh; knowing his brother would indeed guard her with his life and now she was leaving de Bravo, all that mattered. He wasn’t worried about himself, staying overnight in what was surely a single jail cell was not that big a deal to appease the police and more important make things livable for the spy Francisco and his daughter. He doubted even the wanton eyes of the chief would have gone as far as it had if the man had not been drinking. Then again, this was Mexico focusing on the deck of Pride as crew prepared to sail. Then he saw her; standing at the bow she leaned eyes intent on him. It had to be maybe four thirty so it was light though the sun was on its decent. He did not need to be close to know their eyes were locked, feeling her. Reminding him of looking at her in the water when he stood aboard Pride; feeling helpless then and he felt the same now. One thing was a certainty and he knew she would fight him on it; he could not have her accompany him as often as she believed possible. This very trip was nothing more than to deliver and receive information and look what happened; he almost lost her after the stop in Royal, albeit because of his disloyal employee. No matter, watching the ship barely begin to move. Laffite said he would not lose her again even before she returned to Nassau; having the reoccurring thought things would have to change, she changed his life. It was something he began to acknowledge and accept once he joined Sonora in Viejo; things were different though there was no possibility he knew then how great, certainly never imagining how. Watching sails drop Pride was moving but he had no intention of doing so until he could no longer see the woman on the bow. Sebastian stepped off the dock beside him; eyeing Laffite’s intense stare on his brother’s ship. “Glad she didn’t resist,” Beau commented. The former’s chuckle lacked humor. “Knows I’m a man of my word an’ I said she’s leaving with or without her consent,” after a brief pause, Sebastian fisted his hips watching Pride. “Best thing.” Laffite agreed, sparing the sailing master a glance. “She’s safe, all that matters,” before turning back to watch the distancing ship. Abruptly a firm grip on his forearm drew his attention. One of the federales had a hand on him, jerking his head towards the town and there were four others with him watching intently for compliance. Sparing Pride one last fleeting glimpse Laffite followed the Mexican police.
Jean gave him a nod, stepping forward gently gripping her upper arm. Without averting eyes off her Pierre called Beau; the sailing master stepped close. “Board Sonora an’ grab a few of her things quickly, she’s going with Jean we’ll follow in th’ morning.” Sebastian moved and was gone. Her brow creased deep not understanding, eyes still trained on hers he explained. “Because it was th’ chief an’ before others there’s a conflict of interests; t’ appease th’ federales an’ not endanger Francisco or his daughter, I’ll be jailed overnight. Jean’s taking Pride an’ heading for Nassau, with you,” squeezing her waist with the last words. “No! I can stay with the crew on Sonora!” the despair in her voice touched him deep; observing her countenance turn desperate. Adamantly Laffite shook his head narrowing his eyes imperceptibly. “Henley you’re leaving, y’ heard de Montejo, there’s no guarantee of your safety even on th’ ship. Bluntly put an’ wager my ships on it; I believe him. You’re going with Jean an’ his crew.” Anguish filled her eyes and settled on her mouth with desperation and sudden determination. “You can’t force me!” her voice rising in anger. The older Laffite only chuckled exchanging the briefest glance with his brother who also sported subtle quirk of mouth.
Lowering his voice more in subdued tone, intently looking into eyes always telling a story, he continued. “I ask you my love go with him; I’ll see y’ in a few days.” The firm set of her jaw combined with the look in her gaze indicated she would argue. His brow rose and hands on her waist tightened; “You will go with Jean, with or without your consent,” gaze purposeful, tone firm without room for negotiating. Her heart dropped, this was a losing battle and she knew it. Always knowing better than to cross Pierre Laffite never had there been reason; there was no possibility of winning this hand and she knew it. He saw her acquiesce and relief washed over him, looking to his brother. “Guard her with your life,” he said quietly. He nodded once gently tugging her forearm and began leading her down the dock to Pride. She trusted Jean Laffite, not afraid to be with him or his crew; but she couldn’t leave Pierre…Kindly pulling her after him and Pride loomed high above her; sucking in a deep breath of courage she glanced back at the man holding her heart. He stood at the beginning of dock, a short distance behind and to the side were Avery, Reese, Macon, Gage with several Mexican police or federales be it what they were. As she stopped the younger Laffite was forced to pause with her. Something like a cry originating in her heart rose in her throat escaping when her mouth parted, ripping free of the light grip, she sprinted back towards him. Only a matter of fifteen feet, all but collapsing in his arms.
Watching her turn and run back to him he did the natural thing besides wanting to more than anything; catching her and enfolding her in his arms. All but tasting the sweet scent of almonds clutching her securely, pressing his face against her. Certain his strength would crush for not suppressing it, yet refusing to release her. “Please y’ have t’ go with him, I’ll follow when I can.” The sound coming from her throat was choked and broken; then resolve. “Alright,” came the faintest whisper. Hands firmly on her waist he held her away to lock eyes, then brought his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Won’t be long, love you Henley,” murmuring against lips, fully covering them not a moment later. Releasing her and as she backed a step away towards Jean and Pride, sure he’d not felt pain such as this since she told him at least two months ago she wouldn’t stay with him. Unmoving he watched his brother lead her to Pride’s rope ladder the same time Beau approached with the red cloth bag he passed to Jean. Several men quickly climbed and then she stood before it, hands grasping the sides as she turned back to him. There she stood for the lingering pause in time; Laffite felt her stare and saw Jean touch her back where he stood behind her. Still Henley made no effort to start climbing as she faced him. “Go che`ri, I’m coming,” he said under his breath knowing they could not afford to waste time. “Get her out of here,” he urged his brother in elevated whisper.
As if hearing him albeit impossible Jean must have said something for abruptly she started the climb. Weight lifted from his shoulders and he breathed a sigh; knowing his brother would indeed guard her with his life and now she was leaving de Bravo, all that mattered. He wasn’t worried about himself, staying overnight in what was surely a single jail cell was not that big a deal to appease the police and more important make things livable for the spy Francisco and his daughter. He doubted even the wanton eyes of the chief would have gone as far as it had if the man had not been drinking. Then again, this was Mexico focusing on the deck of Pride as crew prepared to sail. Then he saw her; standing at the bow she leaned eyes intent on him. It had to be maybe four thirty so it was light though the sun was on its decent. He did not need to be close to know their eyes were locked, feeling her. Reminding him of looking at her in the water when he stood aboard Pride; feeling helpless then and he felt the same now. One thing was a certainty and he knew she would fight him on it; he could not have her accompany him as often as she believed possible. This very trip was nothing more than to deliver and receive information and look what happened; he almost lost her after the stop in Royal, albeit because of his disloyal employee. No matter, watching the ship barely begin to move. Laffite said he would not lose her again even before she returned to Nassau; having the reoccurring thought things would have to change, she changed his life. It was something he began to acknowledge and accept once he joined Sonora in Viejo; things were different though there was no possibility he knew then how great, certainly never imagining how. Watching sails drop Pride was moving but he had no intention of doing so until he could no longer see the woman on the bow. Sebastian stepped off the dock beside him; eyeing Laffite’s intense stare on his brother’s ship. “Glad she didn’t resist,” Beau commented. The former’s chuckle lacked humor. “Knows I’m a man of my word an’ I said she’s leaving with or without her consent,” after a brief pause, Sebastian fisted his hips watching Pride. “Best thing.” Laffite agreed, sparing the sailing master a glance. “She’s safe, all that matters,” before turning back to watch the distancing ship. Abruptly a firm grip on his forearm drew his attention. One of the federales had a hand on him, jerking his head towards the town and there were four others with him watching intently for compliance. Sparing Pride one last fleeting glimpse Laffite followed the Mexican police.
A friend took this in New Orleans; look for it in the sequel!