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The plot thickens...
Seconds after the words passed her lips loud distant crack sounded; no possibility it wasn’t a pistol shot. In an instant Laffite pushed off the wall, arm snaked about her waist drawing close; head up, eyes alert. “Pistol shot,” he said needlessly. Brief pause of silence when the far-off rumbling steadily came closer; echoing through the cavern walls, around and above them. Facing him eyes wide; it was 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, formidable arms surrounding and tucking her beneath him. The noise was deafening, unmistakable and terrifying as rocks fell on and around them from all sides. Squeezing eyes tightly shut, inhaling and holding her breath; certain the ceiling was collapsing for the ground vibrated as stone fell upon stone. More secure than perhaps she should've felt, acutely aware of unyielding embrace as he shielded her from harm with himself.
Longer than a moment it continued and she was forced to exhale. Finally, the reverberating in her chest dissipated before stopping completely. Rocks intermittently fell; conscious of muscular arms locked around her Henley took another shaky breath. But Laffite wasn’t able to block dust from the cave in; coughing several times. Releasing her, standing in one fluid movement extending hand. Vaguely able to see for the distant moonlight as both dropped their candles; frightened grateful eyes met his, letting him pull to her feet. Match striking off wall was distinct, the extra candle kept on his person threw light a breath later. “What…” unknowing what to say. She’d been afraid but was still reeling from his response, as well as being enveloped in his arms. Again.
Holding gaze, eyeing her face turn an attractive shade of pink; audacious look both calmed and indicated he knew her thoughts. “I don’t understand unless that shot..." Laffite brushed off dust and rock, nodding. “Had t’ be, must be another wild boar,” the teasing prompting smile despite herself. Seeing his words did what intended; focusing the only opening in the wall dividing the two sections of cavern; closing steps reaching, cautiously inspecting the limestone. “See if y’ can find your candle." Dropping to her haunches blindly searching; “Found it!” stepping beside passing the object. Lighting off his; when he held the two high revealing where they just came, no stopping her quick intake of air. The space was gone as if never there.
Filled in with rocks of all sizes, becoming part of the wall of stone. “What now?” disliking her timidity. Oddly enough she wasn’t afraid with him; the opposite of when she was lost alone in the pitch black, especially because of his familiarity with these caverns. Shake of head, pulling a few rocks and tossing them aside. Flashing reckless grin; “We dig or I find another way.” Lips pressed tight glimpsing the enormity of the task; “We’ll be here for the next day to make any progress,” doubtfully. Stepping beside surveying the stone, shoulder toss. “I suggest waiting till they come looking which if I know West an’ Jean, they already are; th’ shot caused this an' they’ll be coming for us.” Handing the light back, fisting one hip with his free wearing unconcerned expression. Gesturing the side wall he’d been leaning against Pierre took step, sitting on his haunches with back to it. Hesitating briefly, stepping a pace away taking a seat. Casually holding the candle, asking what she believed 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, it’s been so long just don't remember.” Long exhale but relaxing against stone, bitter amusement low. "Don't seem to do so well in these caves, at least this time I'm not lost alone." Humor wry; "We're not lost che`ri, trapped perhaps but not lost."
"That's comforting," caustic response unintended, Henley couldn't help it. Fresh were Ethan’s words a short time ago, his doubt. Not that she blamed him. Faced with a real problem, separated with the way back cut off. Involuntarily the makings touched mouth corner; the problem wasn’t hers, overhearing West tell Laffite ‘look after her’ in addition recalling his knowledge of these limestone catacombs. It was out of her hands. Oddly trapped wasn't foremost her mind, Ethan’s words and suspicions echoed. Not wondering why the questions, really, she understood! What hurt was accepting she fell for him; all the events since the beginning when he ‘rescued’ her from the drunk in Viejo. Dancing in his arms; the way he looked at her, in Port au Prince days ago pounding her heart as if it were the first. Sharing coffee at his favorite bistro in Santo Domingo, divulging things about himself; marrying him in La Fortaleza castle… How quickly they’d built a history from finding herself in his arms after the nightmare that first night on Sonora to fooling Pierre Laffite, smuggler and pirate out of his silver. Forgetting she wasn't alone heavy sigh was audible; the male voice startled her. “It’ll be alright amour.” Whipping head found gaze pervading deeper than she wanted. Offering wane smile, forced nonchalance. “Not worried.”
Lengthy quiet when again, disbelieving what he said. Laffite wasn't trying to do West a favor, he genuinely didn’t want her hurting and knew the other man’s words cut deep. “He didn’t mean harm, if there's no explanation he can’t let it go.” Clenching eyes shut, repeating the words; even Ethan’s friend didn’t think he was serious; bringing little relief. Holding the candle with hand balancing knee, another breath and nod; no help worrying over that now, they had bigger problems. Not averting eyes, observing when she pushed 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.”
Locking eyes, Henley smiled. “Certain aren’t you?” Free hand gestured casually; “Especially since y’ were lost once already.” Tearing her eyes, looking left, the outside and moonlight. If they weren’t talking all that could be heard was the rapidly flowing stream. “Despite my experiences, still think these caves are beautiful and mysterious.” Laffite agreed. “That they are. Think of your visit as an adventure.” Conversing off and on with pauses of comfortable silence for the better part of thirty minutes when holding up hand stopping her mid-sentence. Closing mouth watching his eyes narrow, staring without focusing. Then wondering if she didn’t catch something as well, so distant certain she was mistaken. Abruptly he stood stepping near the filled in opening, resting head against it. “West! Jean! In here!” loud voice startled her; jumping though sitting. His yell after talking quietly for the past half hour increased heartbeat, but more than that it was the names called.
Excited, scrambling to her feet outstretching candle to view impenetrable rock. Quiet with ear touching stone, Laffite's eyes met hers. No more than seconds when several muffled voices were heard; Pierre broke into partial grin as she started to smile. They found them! “Henley with you, y’ alright?” the voice she knew was Ethan called, if it weren’t for the limestone he’d be within touching distance. The man before her continued easy expression, as if he’d never been worried to begin with. Truth be told, doubting he ever was. “She’s right ‘ere, we’re both fine, little dusty,” humorously. Silence from all when they heard Jean. “It’ll take us at least half a day with all of us digging to get partway through the mess out here, you know them best. Is there another way out?” Laffite glanced their surroundings. “Don’t remember, I’ll look.” Facing distant moonlight.
“Believe I see moonlight, if we’re this close t’ th’ outside that might be our way.” Silence from both sides as all were in thought when West’s voice broke the quiet. “Henley," he called. Leaning as close the rocks as she could bracing hands; “I’m here Ethan.” No response long enough she was about to call again when hearing him. “We went down th’ tunnel you chose.” Catching Laffite’s gaze, offering palm in confusion when Ethan continued. “Henley, we found it.” Mouth parted, even Pierre looked surprised. Silence followed his statement when he repeated it. “Did y’ hear me Henley? We found it down th' path on th’ right like y’ thought!” At last finding her voice; “You really found it?” Then several men were talking and though they were separated by layers of rock not difficult discerning excitement. “Found it Ms Henley!” was all she 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, raising voice first pause to throw out question. “Why th’ pistol shot?” West could be heard; "Chests were locked an' Henrick aimed his pistol t' open one. Full of pieces of eight love, entire chest t' th' brim!" No wiping elation from her expression, radiating the French born pirate's excitement. “How much is there?” he called. Brief hesitation, West's voice was clear; “At least a dozen chests as well as smaller scattered crates, jewels. Too much t' remember,” easy even through stone to envision his expression. Pierre and Jean were speaking though she paid no attention; they found it! The Nuestra Senora de la Maravilla, Spanish galleon salvaged treasure! Once again speechless, mouth curved in pleased disbelieving expression. These men, smugglers, pirates or privateers lived adventure every day; accustomed to coming across bounty in one way or another as with the silver of Pierre’s in Royal, or salvaged San Jose loot of Jean’s in Cartagena. But for a woman who did nothing but live through tales she created, this adventure and finding what they had took her breath away. “Henley,” realizing the man with gaze locked just breathed her name, mouth angled in amusement. Pulled from the daydream her low laugh only mildly self-conscious; this was a time where her mind wandering was justified. Indicating head to the moonlight. “Going t’ leave you here, stay put,” sternly saying the last two words with meaningful look. Confused eyes widened; “Why, where are you going?” Casual unconcerned expression; “Only going a short distance, looking for another way. You need me, call.” Taking step from the wall. “Why can’t I go with you?” not understanding. Head shake no, smile kind and reassuring. “Because th’ path above the stream is treacherous an’ I don’t remember it. I’m walking it first; where it leads or if there’s adjoining paths out. Won’t be far love,” faintly touching her cheek with palm. Managing nod, breath deep in attempts slowing her heart when hand touched flesh. Then he faced the darkness of the cavern but for his candle and distant moonlight. Watching him go until nearly losing focus his candlelight, resting against stone she didn’t feel so alone. Comforting not only Ethan and Jean were the opposite 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. “You still there?” It wasn’t pause when voice yelled, “We’re here Henley!” Uncertain, believing it Beau. “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. No disguising her eagerness; “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!” Logan responded. He was quickly joined by more voices, unable to differentiate who said what but they conversed back and forth about chests with pieces of eight; countless more crates with jewels as well as other objects made of gold and silver. “Where’s Ethan?” when there was brief lull. “I’m right ‘ere love,” she heard him immediately. Just hearing he was there brought security despite the countless questions for him in addition to telling him how much he hurt her. “It was down th’ one on th’ right just as y’ chose, we didn’t even check th’ other,” informing her. “I’m glad,” unknowing what to say. His words cut deep, especially after accusing her of being a spy before nearly the whole crew. Her word or suggestion was not good enough earlier, voicing his doubt in front of others including Jean and Pierre Laffite. Shrugging; she would think on it later. They found salvaged treasure from the Spanish galleon because of what she told them; this would make a fantastic story! Long exhalation, head shake; taking her thoughts a different direction and she was in too good a mood. “West!” physically jumping at the loud voice beside her. Eyes riveted to Pierre, narrowing the same instant; he knew exactly what he was doing, roguish angled look proved it. “There’s no connecting tunnels but this path leads directly out t’ th’ beach an’ water,” Laffite continued. Henley began to smile; just more adventure, nothing more than a detour. His eyes locked hers, not smiling; quickly hers faded. “We can get back that way, problem’s water’s too high an’ rough, filled with rocks; not possible unless we wait till low tide in th’ morning,” he finished. His words were met with silence before Henley heard Jean. “You’re sure that’s the only way?” Laffite answered his brother without averting pervading gaze. “Positive, only way out unless we start digging.” He and Henley stared at each other without word; low tide, morning? She was trapped with Pierre Laffite until the morning…
“Believe I see moonlight, if we’re this close t’ th’ outside that might be our way.” Silence from both sides as all were in thought when West’s voice broke the quiet. “Henley," he called. Leaning as close the rocks as she could bracing hands; “I’m here Ethan.” No response long enough she was about to call again when hearing him. “We went down th’ tunnel you chose.” Catching Laffite’s gaze, offering palm in confusion when Ethan continued. “Henley, we found it.” Mouth parted, even Pierre looked surprised. Silence followed his statement when he repeated it. “Did y’ hear me Henley? We found it down th' path on th’ right like y’ thought!” At last finding her voice; “You really found it?” Then several men were talking and though they were separated by layers of rock not difficult discerning excitement. “Found it Ms Henley!” was all she 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, raising voice first pause to throw out question. “Why th’ pistol shot?” West could be heard; "Chests were locked an' Henrick aimed his pistol t' open one. Full of pieces of eight love, entire chest t' th' brim!" No wiping elation from her expression, radiating the French born pirate's excitement. “How much is there?” he called. Brief hesitation, West's voice was clear; “At least a dozen chests as well as smaller scattered crates, jewels. Too much t' remember,” easy even through stone to envision his expression. Pierre and Jean were speaking though she paid no attention; they found it! The Nuestra Senora de la Maravilla, Spanish galleon salvaged treasure! Once again speechless, mouth curved in pleased disbelieving expression. These men, smugglers, pirates or privateers lived adventure every day; accustomed to coming across bounty in one way or another as with the silver of Pierre’s in Royal, or salvaged San Jose loot of Jean’s in Cartagena. But for a woman who did nothing but live through tales she created, this adventure and finding what they had took her breath away. “Henley,” realizing the man with gaze locked just breathed her name, mouth angled in amusement. Pulled from the daydream her low laugh only mildly self-conscious; this was a time where her mind wandering was justified. Indicating head to the moonlight. “Going t’ leave you here, stay put,” sternly saying the last two words with meaningful look. Confused eyes widened; “Why, where are you going?” Casual unconcerned expression; “Only going a short distance, looking for another way. You need me, call.” Taking step from the wall. “Why can’t I go with you?” not understanding. Head shake no, smile kind and reassuring. “Because th’ path above the stream is treacherous an’ I don’t remember it. I’m walking it first; where it leads or if there’s adjoining paths out. Won’t be far love,” faintly touching her cheek with palm. Managing nod, breath deep in attempts slowing her heart when hand touched flesh. Then he faced the darkness of the cavern but for his candle and distant moonlight. Watching him go until nearly losing focus his candlelight, resting against stone she didn’t feel so alone. Comforting not only Ethan and Jean were the opposite 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. “You still there?” It wasn’t pause when voice yelled, “We’re here Henley!” Uncertain, believing it Beau. “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. No disguising her eagerness; “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!” Logan responded. He was quickly joined by more voices, unable to differentiate who said what but they conversed back and forth about chests with pieces of eight; countless more crates with jewels as well as other objects made of gold and silver. “Where’s Ethan?” when there was brief lull. “I’m right ‘ere love,” she heard him immediately. Just hearing he was there brought security despite the countless questions for him in addition to telling him how much he hurt her. “It was down th’ one on th’ right just as y’ chose, we didn’t even check th’ other,” informing her. “I’m glad,” unknowing what to say. His words cut deep, especially after accusing her of being a spy before nearly the whole crew. Her word or suggestion was not good enough earlier, voicing his doubt in front of others including Jean and Pierre Laffite. Shrugging; she would think on it later. They found salvaged treasure from the Spanish galleon because of what she told them; this would make a fantastic story! Long exhalation, head shake; taking her thoughts a different direction and she was in too good a mood. “West!” physically jumping at the loud voice beside her. Eyes riveted to Pierre, narrowing the same instant; he knew exactly what he was doing, roguish angled look proved it. “There’s no connecting tunnels but this path leads directly out t’ th’ beach an’ water,” Laffite continued. Henley began to smile; just more adventure, nothing more than a detour. His eyes locked hers, not smiling; quickly hers faded. “We can get back that way, problem’s water’s too high an’ rough, filled with rocks; not possible unless we wait till low tide in th’ morning,” he finished. His words were met with silence before Henley heard Jean. “You’re sure that’s the only way?” Laffite answered his brother without averting pervading gaze. “Positive, only way out unless we start digging.” He and Henley stared at each other without word; low tide, morning? She was trapped with Pierre Laffite until the morning…
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“Can we see Pride from the helm first?” musing he would think her crazy. “Of course che`ri,” grasping arm, leading to the helm. Mounting the steps only one man the deck; Lon was at the wheel, she greeted him with wide smile. “Wanted to see Pride,” explaining unnecessarily. He nodded; “Right behind us,” acknowledging Lafitte. Surprised it wasn’t West showing her Jean’s ship, but not his business. Lafitte urged her farthest end the helm opposite the wheel; gripping the side raising to her toes, yet nothing but blackness met her gaze. “I can’t see…” certain Pride was there but believing so far back it was out of sight. The moon was obscured by a cloud and the surrounding water was black as pitch. Sensing him partially behind, outstretching arm pointing to direct her gaze. Try as she might Henley saw nothing. Frustrated she faced him; “Can’t see, with no moon I just can’t.”
Lafitte shrugged; “Patience,” quietly, aware the word applied to him as well. “You nearly took a spill below," on chuckle. Face warmed, hoping it wasn't seen for the dark. “You heard I’m sure, there’s a raised floorboard nobody warned me of. Not my fault,” it wasn't the rum and truly not her fault. Resting forearms angling head, disarming look. “Privateering seems to be on hold while we chase these ships from Spain,” she said, face warming at his deep laugh. “Seems t’ be th’ case.” Then clouds parted affording clear view of the relentless gaze; subconsciously inhaling, not looking away. All at once standing straight stepping towards her; breath caught, heart skipped yet helpless to look away. Broken only when he moved behind, his left arm reached to grasp side of the ship. Lifting his other on her right pointing almost straight ahead, mouth parted flesh of ear. “Moon’s out, look straight ahead an’ a little t’ the left.” Doing so at the order, unable to stifle intake of breath when her eyes fell on the massive dark shape and sails less than 100 yards. The sudden gasp two-fold for what met her eyes, husky murmur combined with the feel of his arms; suppressed strength had her hesitating with need to breathe. Immobile, watching the silent dark mass willing her heart to slow. “See her?” provocative undertone. “I do;" immobile for lengthy hesitation, when he did it was simply to stand tall. Flush solid chest perhaps should have frightened, but it did not. Finding her voice; “Think I’m ready for that glass now.” Lafitte chuckled audibly, backing away clutching her forearm.
Lafitte shrugged; “Patience,” quietly, aware the word applied to him as well. “You nearly took a spill below," on chuckle. Face warmed, hoping it wasn't seen for the dark. “You heard I’m sure, there’s a raised floorboard nobody warned me of. Not my fault,” it wasn't the rum and truly not her fault. Resting forearms angling head, disarming look. “Privateering seems to be on hold while we chase these ships from Spain,” she said, face warming at his deep laugh. “Seems t’ be th’ case.” Then clouds parted affording clear view of the relentless gaze; subconsciously inhaling, not looking away. All at once standing straight stepping towards her; breath caught, heart skipped yet helpless to look away. Broken only when he moved behind, his left arm reached to grasp side of the ship. Lifting his other on her right pointing almost straight ahead, mouth parted flesh of ear. “Moon’s out, look straight ahead an’ a little t’ the left.” Doing so at the order, unable to stifle intake of breath when her eyes fell on the massive dark shape and sails less than 100 yards. The sudden gasp two-fold for what met her eyes, husky murmur combined with the feel of his arms; suppressed strength had her hesitating with need to breathe. Immobile, watching the silent dark mass willing her heart to slow. “See her?” provocative undertone. “I do;" immobile for lengthy hesitation, when he did it was simply to stand tall. Flush solid chest perhaps should have frightened, but it did not. Finding her voice; “Think I’m ready for that glass now.” Lafitte chuckled audibly, backing away clutching her forearm.
Cartagena...
Coming beside the Spanish woman, Henley ordered herself a drink; at a woman’s voice the former glanced raising thin dark brow. “What would you like a drink?” Henley asked in English believing it would be understood. Consuela glimpsed the barkeep, speaking Spanish; the former looked to Pierre inclining toward him. “Won’t you join us?” expression indicated aware exactly what she was doing. With amusement, he ordered and lay several coins for all three drinks. The Columbian woman was suspicious, noting this woman sitting with West and Sonora crew. 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; the Columbian confused as to why this other woman would be asking such. Wondering as well but he said nothing. “Ask if I can buy them from her.” Brow shot up but eyes glinted humor; Henley was concerned. “Can I borrow some money, silver please?” pleading never considering how she would pay for what was desired. But he laughed with genuine mirth, nodding. Consuela pushed away from the counter saying few words to Laffite before disappearing. Taking the woman’s spot leaning forearm, holding drink with the other eyeing this 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, nervously raising drink. She was far from afraid around him, quite the opposite but now distinctly feeling tempered strength in his embrace; just the thought warming her face. Curious as to the red in her cheeks but deciding to spare her, not asking the angled expression was private. A drink; “Are y’ going t’ enlighten me why I’m asking for coal pencil, red paint an’ a filing stone?” Surprised as if it just occurred to her, which in fact it did. What this man must think of her odd request! Facing him, eyes self-conscious. “What you must think of me!” but Pierre continued low chuckle; flash of silver as hand passed carelessly through air. “I should’ve told you! I’m assuming in her line of work she might possibly have such items, at the table thought of asking her; should’ve told you, I’m sorry.” It only deepened his bemused look. “You didn’t answer me,” not averting eyes. Really curious now; he stopped laughing and inclined close, becoming serious, “Tell me,” encouraging gently. It worked. She sighed before inhaling. “I paint my toes.” He couldn’t have stopped the reaction if expecting the answer. Eyes grew and he laughed deep, eye corners creasing in humor. Even more self-conscious, facing the bar she gripped the almost full glass tightly; this was a bad idea. But then muscled arm brushed hers, impossible murmur her ear; “Show me.”
Wry laugh lifting glass for taste, show him? Glimpsing the man watching her intently; he was serious. Pushing out from the counter several inches still keeping arm on it, glass secure in hand; her other reached for his forearm grasping securely as she balanced all weight on her right leg and foot. Laffite braced his arm to balance, eyes following hers to the floor. Carefully she slipped off the left deck shoe raising her foot a little. His mouth parted before breaking into roguish angle. “Your toes look like red wine, an’ y’ wear a band of silver!” Gripping his arm firmly and the counter with the other managing to slip back into the deck shoe. Looking at him with red face, colliding with pervading gaze wondering what he thought of her. Muttering as much neath breath; “What you must think of me,” staring the liquid in glass. In her next breath, mouth was parting flesh of ear and 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~ Separating for another taste of the soothing liquid. Chuckling with shake of head, Laffite lifted his own for another healthy pull. Henley wondered what 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,” apologizing earnestly turning entreating eyes on him. His free hand grazed cheek; at that moment Consuela approached 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 looking to the man with apology, but he was already handing Consuela double she asked, jerking his head she could leave. With toss of head and taking the drink bought for her, the Columbian woman vanished. Focusing the other woman, her expression was filled with appreciation. "Two dollars?" Chuckling he nodded. “Gave her twice that t’ leave." “Thank you,” Henley fisted the tan pouch tightly. He gestured their table with raised brow. Nearly there, tugging his forearm; inclining head unnoticeably to her. “What’d you say after you love the red?” The instant the words passed her lips wanting to take them back; she should have asked later as they were only steps away from the others. Chuckling audibly inclining further; “I love your red toes my one true love.” Guiding by the hand behind Jean, to her seat and 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. Eyes glued the table glimpsing food, mugs and glasses but for all her courage couldn’t find enough to glance Ethan’s way nor meet Pierre’s gaze; sensing both. Maybe it was the rum, perhaps the surrounding pirates and atmosphere but 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? Hoping the cynical humor and head shake went unnoticed; this surpassed what even she was ready for. It was easy to write about hearts when 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 characters, men; hearts were real and not resting in between the pages of her mind.
Wry laugh lifting glass for taste, show him? Glimpsing the man watching her intently; he was serious. Pushing out from the counter several inches still keeping arm on it, glass secure in hand; her other reached for his forearm grasping securely as she balanced all weight on her right leg and foot. Laffite braced his arm to balance, eyes following hers to the floor. Carefully she slipped off the left deck shoe raising her foot a little. His mouth parted before breaking into roguish angle. “Your toes look like red wine, an’ y’ wear a band of silver!” Gripping his arm firmly and the counter with the other managing to slip back into the deck shoe. Looking at him with red face, colliding with pervading gaze wondering what he thought of her. Muttering as much neath breath; “What you must think of me,” staring the liquid in glass. In her next breath, mouth was parting flesh of ear and 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~ Separating for another taste of the soothing liquid. Chuckling with shake of head, Laffite lifted his own for another healthy pull. Henley wondered what 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,” apologizing earnestly turning entreating eyes on him. His free hand grazed cheek; at that moment Consuela approached 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 looking to the man with apology, but he was already handing Consuela double she asked, jerking his head she could leave. With toss of head and taking the drink bought for her, the Columbian woman vanished. Focusing the other woman, her expression was filled with appreciation. "Two dollars?" Chuckling he nodded. “Gave her twice that t’ leave." “Thank you,” Henley fisted the tan pouch tightly. He gestured their table with raised brow. Nearly there, tugging his forearm; inclining head unnoticeably to her. “What’d you say after you love the red?” The instant the words passed her lips wanting to take them back; she should have asked later as they were only steps away from the others. Chuckling audibly inclining further; “I love your red toes my one true love.” Guiding by the hand behind Jean, to her seat and 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. Eyes glued the table glimpsing food, mugs and glasses but for all her courage couldn’t find enough to glance Ethan’s way nor meet Pierre’s gaze; sensing both. Maybe it was the rum, perhaps the surrounding pirates and atmosphere but 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? Hoping the cynical humor and head shake went unnoticed; this surpassed what even she was ready for. It was easy to write about hearts when 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 characters, men; hearts were real and not resting in between the pages of her mind.
Jean Laffite's pub Port au Prince
The barman arrived with full mug, wave of hand and amiable expression; walking to the counter without a peso never having thought. Amused inwardly; one did not need think about such when you showed up with the owner. Starting for the three tables filled with two Lafitte brothers, Sonora crew and the countless others from Pride. The grip her arms was a painful surprise, resulting in brief exclamation. Focusing the tables ahead; not a shock virtually every set of eyes were on her. Good, then they saw the trouble she was in. Quick glance told her it was the Latin men; why would they bother her?
Approaching the first high top, faces revealed alarm and anger. Eyes riveted West; looking as if he was punched in the stomach. “Lafitte, you have something that belongs to us. 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.” Thoroughly confused, Henley focused Jean; recognition his narrowed gaze at the men who so roughly held her. The former stepped their way offering casual hand in the air; “What could I possibly have that belongs to you?” partial quirk to mouth false. The taller man jerked her close and she felt the dagger tip pressed her side; pushing only a hair, mouth parted as she cried out. Several men the table moved a step; Jean stopped raising 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 man tightened his grip drawing her close, jabbing the dagger further. Unable to stifle audible gasp, head falling back in automatic reaction to the blade’s point. The younger Laffite stopped; “I’ll get the documents. If you don’t take that blade from her side I’ll burn them before your eyes,” vowing with meaningful look. Holding fast but the short dagger was removed, and Jean was gone gesturing one of his men to follow. Without the knife pressing, acknowledging the men before her; consolation so many tables were filled with men from both ships, eyes solely on her. Aware the music ceased, the tavern a moment ago filled with noise and laughter had fallen unusually quiet. Frightened gaze leveled with West; close enough she saw the muscle throb his jaw indicating his anger and prayed he was still; this was real and she was terrified. Glimpse across Pierre stood straight, the look his face and eyes fierce. The quiet was unnerving when sensing her fingers pried from the mug in hand. Lowering eyes revealed the shorter man prying the full drink from her fingers, tipping it back downing with several long swallows. When he finished flashing cruel smirk at nobody, tossing empty mug the floor behind him. The tall one squeezed her arm viciously to the point it started to tingle from lack of blood flow; appreciating need to keep quiet, biting 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 nearly hoping the men on edge would not hear. The tall Latino jerked her to him; “Shut up,” he growled. The sound was unmistakable, knowing instantly what it was; more than one click of a pistol as it readied to fire. West, Pierre, Beau and Reese had leveled their pistols in the direction of Henley and the two men. Eyes falling on the scene before her was reassuring, aware there was hardly reason for it. Lafitte and Beau were the opposite so the pistols seemed completely natural in relaxed hands of the men resting them on the table; West and Reese held theirs low beside their hips looking eerily characteristic. “Hombres, no es necesario sert crueles,” the former said in warning. The grip her arm lessoned considerably; daring breathe relief. It wasn’t seconds later Jean and his crewman reentered the pub; holding several papers walking for the front high top. Glimpsing the men with pistols leveled at Henley and the men, shaking head. “I came just in time.” Walking forward several paces toward the woman, Jean’s eyes fell on Henley’s briefly. “Ne t’inquie`te pas, ma che`re, don’t worry dear.” Then concentrating the men, gaze narrowing the look in his eyes threatening. “Your letters of marque,” waving four documents without another step. The shorter man outstretched 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 vice-like grip shoved her violently. Stumbling forward she would’ve fallen if he hadn't caught and steadied her. Relief swallowed her as Jean’s arm slid about securely. Outstretching papers; the shorter man grabbed them, sparing brief look. The other 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 yet simultaneously laugh. Jean drew her near, inclining head. “You alright mi se`nora?” Wry expression as her eyes rose to find West trained on her. Without hesitation pulling from the pirate’s gentle grasp, going to the man with the silver-grey gaze; 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 arm; one of the barmen headed over. “I’m sorry Jean,” her voice drawing all eyes. The man looked surprised; “Why?” “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, her self-conscious gaze rest on Jean. “I still have them love,” his humor deep. Mouth parted “I don’t understand,” she stammered. Pierre broke in. “Correct me, but I’m guessing he replaced th’ real letters with counterfeit.” His brother nodded before focusing her with warm smile. “I still have the letters, what they traded are worthless,” glancing 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 hand over Henley’s resting the table. “I’m afraid if I don’t steal y’ now someone else will,” pulling her with him. Not arguing she followed Sonora’s quartermaster willingly. “The music started,” noting the guitars had begun as well as talk and noise throughout the tavern. “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 man tightened his grip drawing her close, jabbing the dagger further. Unable to stifle audible gasp, head falling back in automatic reaction to the blade’s point. The younger Laffite stopped; “I’ll get the documents. If you don’t take that blade from her side I’ll burn them before your eyes,” vowing with meaningful look. Holding fast but the short dagger was removed, and Jean was gone gesturing one of his men to follow. Without the knife pressing, acknowledging the men before her; consolation so many tables were filled with men from both ships, eyes solely on her. Aware the music ceased, the tavern a moment ago filled with noise and laughter had fallen unusually quiet. Frightened gaze leveled with West; close enough she saw the muscle throb his jaw indicating his anger and prayed he was still; this was real and she was terrified. Glimpse across Pierre stood straight, the look his face and eyes fierce. The quiet was unnerving when sensing her fingers pried from the mug in hand. Lowering eyes revealed the shorter man prying the full drink from her fingers, tipping it back downing with several long swallows. When he finished flashing cruel smirk at nobody, tossing empty mug the floor behind him. The tall one squeezed her arm viciously to the point it started to tingle from lack of blood flow; appreciating need to keep quiet, biting 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 nearly hoping the men on edge would not hear. The tall Latino jerked her to him; “Shut up,” he growled. The sound was unmistakable, knowing instantly what it was; more than one click of a pistol as it readied to fire. West, Pierre, Beau and Reese had leveled their pistols in the direction of Henley and the two men. Eyes falling on the scene before her was reassuring, aware there was hardly reason for it. Lafitte and Beau were the opposite so the pistols seemed completely natural in relaxed hands of the men resting them on the table; West and Reese held theirs low beside their hips looking eerily characteristic. “Hombres, no es necesario sert crueles,” the former said in warning. The grip her arm lessoned considerably; daring breathe relief. It wasn’t seconds later Jean and his crewman reentered the pub; holding several papers walking for the front high top. Glimpsing the men with pistols leveled at Henley and the men, shaking head. “I came just in time.” Walking forward several paces toward the woman, Jean’s eyes fell on Henley’s briefly. “Ne t’inquie`te pas, ma che`re, don’t worry dear.” Then concentrating the men, gaze narrowing the look in his eyes threatening. “Your letters of marque,” waving four documents without another step. The shorter man outstretched 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 vice-like grip shoved her violently. Stumbling forward she would’ve fallen if he hadn't caught and steadied her. Relief swallowed her as Jean’s arm slid about securely. Outstretching papers; the shorter man grabbed them, sparing brief look. The other 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 yet simultaneously laugh. Jean drew her near, inclining head. “You alright mi se`nora?” Wry expression as her eyes rose to find West trained on her. Without hesitation pulling from the pirate’s gentle grasp, going to the man with the silver-grey gaze; 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 arm; one of the barmen headed over. “I’m sorry Jean,” her voice drawing all eyes. The man looked surprised; “Why?” “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, her self-conscious gaze rest on Jean. “I still have them love,” his humor deep. Mouth parted “I don’t understand,” she stammered. Pierre broke in. “Correct me, but I’m guessing he replaced th’ real letters with counterfeit.” His brother nodded before focusing her with warm smile. “I still have the letters, what they traded are worthless,” glancing 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 hand over Henley’s resting the table. “I’m afraid if I don’t steal y’ now someone else will,” pulling her with him. Not arguing she followed Sonora’s quartermaster willingly. “The music started,” noting the guitars had begun as well as talk and noise throughout the tavern. “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 gaze 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 hesitated with her, part of ‘their’ crew continuing. Dropping hands and gripping waist drawing her close inclining head; jaw set, consoling tone and sensing every set of eyes but only focused on her.
Without doubt she would blame herself for this, aware fault only rest with him. He knew better, but what else could he have done? Not taking immediate action certainly would’ve resulted in far worse; learning the one who grabbed her was the chief of police, the rest of 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. Not only blowing 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 the man's 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 wasn't problem for him. But his Henley? No question he wanted, needed her safe.
Jean gave him 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. 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!” despair touched him deep; observing her countenance turn desperate. Adamantly Laffite shook head imperceptibly narrowing eyes. “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 mouth with sudden determination. “You can’t force me!” voice rising in anger. Laffite only chuckled, exchanging briefest glance with his brother also sporting subtle quirk of mouth.
Subdued tone, intently looking into eyes always with a story to tell, he continued. “I ask you my love go with him; I’ll see y’ in a few days.” The firm set of jaw combined with her gaze indicated she would argue. His brow rose, hands on waist tightened; “You will go with Jean, with or without your consent,” gaze purposeful, stern without room for negotiating. Heart dropped, this was a losing battle and she knew it. Always knowing better than to cross Pierre Laffite, never had there been reason; 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,” quietly. One nod, gently tugging forearm and leading her down the dock to Pride. Trusting Jean Laffite, not afraid to be with him or his crew; she couldn’t leave Pierre…Kindly pulling her after him and Pride loomed high above her; inhaling deep breath of courage sparing glance back at the man holding her heart. Standing at the start 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 her heart rose to throat escaping when mouth parted; ripping free 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 besides desiring more than anything; catching and enfolding her in his arms. All but tasting the sweet scent of almonds clutching her securely, pressing face against flesh. 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 choked and broken; then resolve. “Alright,” faintest whisper. Hands firmly on waist separating to lock eyes, bringing mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Won’t be long, love you Henley,” murmuring against lips, fully covering them not a hesitation later. Releasing and as she backed a step away towards Jean and Pride, sure he’d not felt pain such as this since she told him 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; passed to Jean. Several men quickly climbed and then she stood before it, hands grasping the sides as she turned back to him. Immobile for lingering pause in time; Laffite sensed her eyes, saw Jean touch her back. Still Henley made no effort to start climbing. “Go che`ri, I’m coming,” Pierre said neath breath knowing they couldn't afford to waste time. “Get her out of here,” urging his brother in elevated whisper.
As if he heard albeit impossible Jean must have said something for abruptly she started the climb. Weight lifted his shoulders and he breathed sigh; 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 it livable for the spy Francisco and his daughter. Doubting 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 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. No need be close to know their eyes locked, sensing 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; nearly losing her after their stop in Royal, though because of his disloyal employee. No matter, watching the ship begin to move. Laffite said he would not lose her again even before she returned to Nassau; reoccurring thought surfaced things would have to change, she changed his life. It was something he began to acknowledge and accept once he joined Sonora in Viejo; everything was 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 dock beside him; eyeing Laffite’s intense stare 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’ said she’s leaving with or without her consent,” brief pause, Sebastian fisted hips watching Pride. “Best thing.” Laffite agreed, glancing the sailing master. “She’s safe, all that matters,” turning back to the distancing ship. Abruptly firm grip his forearm drew attention. One of the federales had hand on him, jerking head to 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 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. 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!” despair touched him deep; observing her countenance turn desperate. Adamantly Laffite shook head imperceptibly narrowing eyes. “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 mouth with sudden determination. “You can’t force me!” voice rising in anger. Laffite only chuckled, exchanging briefest glance with his brother also sporting subtle quirk of mouth.
Subdued tone, intently looking into eyes always with a story to tell, he continued. “I ask you my love go with him; I’ll see y’ in a few days.” The firm set of jaw combined with her gaze indicated she would argue. His brow rose, hands on waist tightened; “You will go with Jean, with or without your consent,” gaze purposeful, stern without room for negotiating. Heart dropped, this was a losing battle and she knew it. Always knowing better than to cross Pierre Laffite, never had there been reason; 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,” quietly. One nod, gently tugging forearm and leading her down the dock to Pride. Trusting Jean Laffite, not afraid to be with him or his crew; she couldn’t leave Pierre…Kindly pulling her after him and Pride loomed high above her; inhaling deep breath of courage sparing glance back at the man holding her heart. Standing at the start 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 her heart rose to throat escaping when mouth parted; ripping free 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 besides desiring more than anything; catching and enfolding her in his arms. All but tasting the sweet scent of almonds clutching her securely, pressing face against flesh. 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 choked and broken; then resolve. “Alright,” faintest whisper. Hands firmly on waist separating to lock eyes, bringing mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Won’t be long, love you Henley,” murmuring against lips, fully covering them not a hesitation later. Releasing and as she backed a step away towards Jean and Pride, sure he’d not felt pain such as this since she told him 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; passed to Jean. Several men quickly climbed and then she stood before it, hands grasping the sides as she turned back to him. Immobile for lingering pause in time; Laffite sensed her eyes, saw Jean touch her back. Still Henley made no effort to start climbing. “Go che`ri, I’m coming,” Pierre said neath breath knowing they couldn't afford to waste time. “Get her out of here,” urging his brother in elevated whisper.
As if he heard albeit impossible Jean must have said something for abruptly she started the climb. Weight lifted his shoulders and he breathed sigh; 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 it livable for the spy Francisco and his daughter. Doubting 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 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. No need be close to know their eyes locked, sensing 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; nearly losing her after their stop in Royal, though because of his disloyal employee. No matter, watching the ship begin to move. Laffite said he would not lose her again even before she returned to Nassau; reoccurring thought surfaced things would have to change, she changed his life. It was something he began to acknowledge and accept once he joined Sonora in Viejo; everything was 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 dock beside him; eyeing Laffite’s intense stare 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’ said she’s leaving with or without her consent,” brief pause, Sebastian fisted hips watching Pride. “Best thing.” Laffite agreed, glancing the sailing master. “She’s safe, all that matters,” turning back to the distancing ship. Abruptly firm grip his forearm drew attention. One of the federales had hand on him, jerking head to 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!