three
Henri rowed the five miles from Indigo Island to the mainland in under an hour, spurred on by seas so flat and smooth they resembled an opal. Such becalmed waters were usually a hindrance, stranding ships and starving crews nearer the equator. The doldrums were the bane of Atlantic sailors. But here off Virginia’s coast, all was in his favor, though he wished for a light wind, if only to allay the late September sun beating at his back and dampening his linen shirt.
A sack of letters lay in the jolly boat’s bottom, brought over eight thousand miles from Ascension Island to loved ones throughout Virginia. Since his own familial ties were so meagre, he’d had no letters to post. The lonesome lack sharpened his resolve to keep the tenuous ties of his fellow mariners intact.
Looking over his shoulder, he squinted beneath the brim of his cocked hat as York’s sprawling façade took shape. His mental map of the thriving town was largely intact. Little had changed other than an array of new warehouses as befitted a port town. Water Street still boasted a staggering assortment of taverns and rum shops and bawdy houses, as plenteous as the ships glutting the harbor. On thecliff above, handsome, genteel homes looked down like disgruntled parishioners on the sinning street.
His gaze hung on one. The Shaw residence. He’d last ducked beneath the door’s lintel at the age of five and twenty. Esmée was younger, a vision of midnight hair, eyes green as a Montserrat forest, and a smile that had once stood him still. What had ten years wrought? Likely she’d wed. Given her parents grandchildren.
His mind reached back to a memory long blocked, the day he and Esmée had first met. TheRelentlesshad moored at Block Island, a stronghold of privateers, pirates, and assorted mariners in Rhode Island. He rarely sailed so far north, but unexpected business had taken him there.
Three young women had been walking the beach, a fragile April sun breaking through after a fearsome winter. They were shelling, bare of foot, skirts lifted above their ankles. Their lilting voices carried over the water as theRelentlessdocked, drawing the attention of his affection-starved crew. He’d rebuked them for gawking but was hard-pressed to rein himself in and follow his own admonishment.
And then, that very eve, he’d found himself at a supper party hosted by the prominent Williams family. In Esmée walked, her smile wide, her pale green gown beguiling. Henri was taken aback by her warmth, her genuineness. She was flushed by the sun, as curvaceous and inviting as tropical fruit.
“Captain Lennox,” their hostess queried, “have you met Miss Esmée Shaw?”
Henri gave the requisite bow while Esmée curtsied prettily, hands clasped at her slim waist.
“The privateer?” she asked, her long-lashed gaze holding his. “Henri Lennox?”
Ahn-ree.Her French was perfect. Few pronounced his forename well. That alone left him half-smitten. “Should I bow out now?”
“Never fear.” Her face dimpled into a laugh. “I don’t believe half what the papers print.”
“The truth is never so colorful, nay.” He clasped his hands behindhis back and struck a non-piratical pose. “You are the daughter of the renowned Admiral Shaw of Rhode Island.”
“Soon to be situated in fair Virginia.”
He regarded her closely.What?
“Father won’t stray far from the sea. He’s purchased a townhouse in the port town of York. We’ll be opening a chocolate shop and coffeehouse on Water Street.”
“Not far from my home off the Virginia capes.”
Her expression was unsurprised. “You own an island, ’tis said.”
“Indigo Island, aye.”
“How did you come by it?”
“As payment of a debt owed me.”
“Do you know its history?”
He smiled, enjoying their banter. “Perhaps the better question is, do you?”
“Father told me a ship heavily laden with indigo from Porto Bello foundered there in a storm a hundred years ago.” Her eyes sparkled. “I should like to see your island.”
Such bold words bordered on coquetry. But her eyes held such guileless interest he was charmed. “Indigo Island’s shells are the finest I’ve seen beyond Hispaniola, the pearl of the Caribbean.”
“You saw me shelling today as you docked.” She extended her fan, its leaves painted with a ship, the edges lace tipped. “A handsome vessel you command, Captain Lennox.”
The rest of their conversation was a pleasurable blur. If not for his unusual foray north, would they have ever met?
Shoving his musings aside and returning to the present, Henri pulled harder at the oars, then beached the jolly on a little-used stretch of white sand north of town. His senior-most crew had come ashore the day before, the rest careening the vessel and biding their time at Mistress Saltonstall’s ordinary. His own day was a blank slate once he’d taken care of the post, the hours to fill as he willed.
By noon he’d walked the length and breadth of town, dined on York River oysters, and purchased supplies for Indigo Island. Word was spreading he’d returned, and by three o’clock, he’d been invitedto a function that necessitated a visit to a tailor and some serious second thoughts.
