Claire opened the small makeshift jail. She detested this errand and hated going against Devon’s orders to stay strictly in the house. But Cookie who normally took the prisoners their food had begged this one small favor. Bloodsmythe had planned a special outing. Cookie was walking on clouds with the expectation of a proposal. Who was she to stop Cupid’s arrow?
Claire shoved open the door of the prison, a small building cordoned off into two parts that included a barred cell. Her uncle blinked, the wavering sunlight made him appear more inhuman than ever. He wore no wig, and his bald pate had the luminescent quality of a cadaver. Sir Teakle, his silk and lace filthy and drooping fared no better.
“It’s my dearest niece come to feed us,” Jarvis sneered. “The world would call you a fool to keep company with a devil like that.”
“I would think in your current state, you’d be appreciative of the kindness given to you by Devon. I remember how well you treated him.”
“You throw away a chance to be a countess?” Sir Teakle snorted, his huge bulk winnowed down from his incarceration. “But you’re not the sort to put great store in rank and coronet.”
“Never would I desire to be your wife. You are as contemptible as my uncle.” Claire moved into the cell, eager to deposit the food and leave to seek out her husband.
“You think I know nothing?” Jarvis spat. “He’s a damned pirate, a cut-throat villain. I’ve known plenty, and they never change. It’s in his blood. He’ll have many women besides you. Would you be happy when he tires of you, to be cast aside? He only has the hangman’s noose awaiting him and disgrace for you.”
Claire seethed. “I will not listen to you disparage Devon. He is kind and noble, far from what you could claim for yourself. Never will I be in your power again. I love Devon and will never leave him.”
“So you play the whore with that pirate thief.”
That comment jerked her to attention, and she laughed in Jarvis’s face. “I am his wife!”
“His wife?” Jarvis exploded. “You think you are so smart. I’ll have you know that I plotted to have your family killed. Paid a heavy sum to have my brother’s carriage sabotaged, the wheel breaking precisely, rounding a bend, casting you, and your mother and father over a cliff. That’s right. I killed your father and mother. My entire life, I hated my brother and everything he represented. He had the beautiful wife, family, success in everything he accomplished. I was the poor younger brother with nothing, always in his shadow, and I hated him for it. Yet his brat survived. I couldn’t wait to throw you out. I burned the will that left the majority of assets to you and seized everything for myself,” he laughed. “You even own the plantation in Jamaica.”
Numb with shock, Claire inched to the door. The demonic gleam in Jarvis’s eye rattled up her spine. He was mad. She moved to the door. “You paid to have my father and mother killed?” Claire reeled from the revelation. A warning voice nagged her. “Where is the guard?” She barely uttered the words when Sir Teakle grabbed her from behind. “How dare you do this on Devon’s island? You’re fools. You have no place to escape. Devon will hunt you down.” She opened her mouth to scream. Filthy lace was thrust into her mouth. Claire gagged. She fought and bucked. With her free hand, she swung and hit Teakle in the eye. He swore. Her uncle pressed a knife at her throat and she stilled.
“Now my lovely,” Teakle breathed into her ear. “You will do exactly as we say.” He laughed, his voice stayed absolutely emotionless and it chilled her. She kicked at him. He wrenched her arms behind her and tied her hands.
“That’s better,” her uncle said. “You have been nothing but a bitch that needs to learn obedience. I’ve made an arrangement for our freedom. To think I can exchange the treasure dearest to the Black Devil.”
He flung her out the door. Claire stumbled over the guard. Young Johnnie lay bound and still. A large red lump swelled on the side of his head. Was he dead? Jarvis kicked him and he moaned. Claire closed her eyes, thankful he was alive.
“We’ve no time to waste,” said Teakle, nursing his eye.
“I should have had the Black Devil whipped to death when he was a slave under my thumb. But I think this plan is better. It will eat at him like acid, his wife vanishing with no trace of her footsteps. Le Trompeur will be getting a bigger prize. The wife of the Black Devil.”
Claire froze. The desperate reality of her situation came clear. She fought like a demon. She fell and he yanked her to her feet.
“It is useless to fight my dear. You will suffer at the hands of the French pirate.” He shoved her through dense foliage. Jarvis navigated a route far from the village and notice of Devon’s men. “I relish the fact that he is not kind to women. With great pleasure, I can get even with the Black Devil, and have the satisfaction of trumping my dead brother.”
On the beach, the black spines of theMer Un Serpentlay silhouetted against a brilliant sky. She was picked up and tossed into a waiting boat. The rapid thrust of oars lapped against the water.
Le Trompeur was the first to greet her. “Mademoiselle, an honor to see you, again.”
Like a beached whale, Jarvis hefted his body on the deck eager to tell Le Trompeur his good fortune. “She is not Mademoiselle. She is the Black Devil’s wife.”
“His wife?”
The pirate’s pupils dilated enough for Claire to glimpse a flicker of insecurity. He circled her. “Untie Madame Blackmon’s hands.”
“He will hunt you down for taking me.”
He tapped a fingernail beneath her chin. “His ship remains in dry-dock. I will be days away before he is finished with repairs.”
“Devon will find you. This I promise.”
Le Trompeur raised his eyebrows. “So much boldness. I do not think you are as confident as you pretend. As I covet gold, I covet the wife of the Black Devil. You will perform for me the same as you do for him.”
“I will not let you touch me.”
He coiled a mass of her hair tight to his fingers and yanked her face inches before his own. “We are at an impasse. I do remember your dangerous feet. A lesson must be learned. I want you begging.” He jerked his head to his men. “Tie her to the mast. No water or food comes to her mouth except by my hand.”
