Silence responded.In its place a litany of recent answered prayers paraded across his mind, requests he’d lifted up to God, not fully expecting them to be answered.He’d prayed they’d rescue Matthew.They did.He’d prayed they’d stave off Allard’s attack.They had.He’d prayed they’d find Allard.They had.
Was God finally answering his prayers?But why now and not when he’d so desperately prayed to save his family?
Chapter 25
Must I attend Damien’s ridiculous ball?”Gabrielle tossed the gown onto the four-poster mahogany bed and moved to look out the window.Tropical gardens glistened in the setting sun—an array of every colored flower imaginable.Stone paths circled a fountain where birds gathered to drink.Beyond the garden, sugarcane stretched as far as the eye could see.And beyond them, a strip of blue was all she could see of the Caribbean.
She glanced down the five stories to the dirt below and huffed.“If only I could jump.”
“Nows you don’t mean dat, Child.”Omphile appeared beside her.“What good would dat do your son?”
“My son.”Gabrielle swallowed and forced back tears.“I’ll never see him again.”
Omphile gripped her hand and squeezed it.“No, Miss.The Laud told me you’ll see him real soon.”
Suppressing her anger at the woman’s incessant positive prognostications, Gabrielle offered a tiny smile.She meant well, no doubt only trying to comfort Gabrielle.But hearing from the Lord?Even if He did talk to people, why would He bother with such a trivial matter when He had the world to run?
She bit her lip.Of course, her parents had insisted they heard often from God.Gabrielle had always thought they were exaggerating, for she had never received a single word from the Almighty.
Tugging from the woman’s hand, she moved to the table and fingered the ruby necklace and bracelet, along with the jeweled mask Allard’s steward had left.All trinkets she was expected to wear tonight.“I don’t see how, Omphile.We are at Fort Royal, an enemy port on an enemy island.And worse, in the governor’s palace.Cadan would never be able to sail a mile within this place.”
“Nothing is impossible wit’ de Laud.”Omphile eased a hand over the gown on the bed and whistled.“Feels like silk, Miss.An’ it’s so pretty.You’re gonna look like a princess in dis.”
Gabrielle shook her head.Though it was the most beautiful gown and jewels she’d seen, she had no intention of honoring Damien with her presence.“I’m not going.”
“I don’t sees how you have a choice.’Sides.”Omphile shrugged.“What harm could it do?”
Gabrielle sank into a stuffed chair and glanced around the opulent room they’d been escorted to upon landing.Elaborately carved oak and walnut furniture spread across the large space—a bed, chest of drawers, writing desk, and two chairs.Plush red cushions filled the chairs with matching pillows spread over the embroidered counterpane on the bed.Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls, depicting scenes of the French countryside.And in the corner a clawfoot porcelain tub beckoned to her for a bath she’d not had in months.
She’d not seen Damien since their dinner, and she had to admit that after two more days inside that tiny cabin on theNightblood, she’d been thrilled to feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face once again.But the crewmen who’d escorted her and Omphile off the ship, onto the docks, and into a carriage, had not answered a single of their questions as to where they were going and why they were there.
Gabrielle did not recognize the city that passed outside the carriage windows, nor the elaborate mansion they stopped in front of.Apparently, Damien had higher connections than she’d thought.They’d only seen a small portion of the estate as they were escorted through the front door and up a series of stairs, but ’twas enough to see the ivory statues, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and bevy of servants skittering about.
After locking them in the bed chamber, Damien’s steward, Louis, brought them a tasty repast and extended Damien’s invitation to a costume ball that evening.’Twas Louis who finally answered her question as to their location—the island of Martinique.An hour later, he brought up the costume she was to wear and informed her that maids would soon arrive with hot water to bathe.
She would admit to being excited about the bath.After spending most of her time on a ship the past month, plus giving birth, she could use a good soak.
“I just don’t understand,” she said with a huff.“Why does he want me to attend a ball?Does he plan to shackle me in front of everyone, for surely he knows I’ll take every opportunity to escape.”She glanced at Omphile, who stared in awe at a stunning painting of a ship at sea on the wall.“Not that I would leave without you,” Gabrielle added.
“Oh, no, Child.”Omphile’s brow tightened as she swept her concerned gaze to Gabrielle.“If you see a chance to escape, don’t you worry ’bout me.Jist go!”
Gabrielle shook her head.“I could never leave you here.”She sighed and set down the ruby necklace she’d been caressing.“Which is most likely his plan, after all.”
“Don’t be frettin’ so, Miss.You must go to dis ball.I sense it.’Sides, you knows he will force you anyway, an’ it might be interesting.”Her glance took in the gown.“I’d take any chance I got to wear sich a gown.”
Gabrielle smiled.“You always give me hope, even in the worst situations.”
“Then I’s doin’ de job de good Laud gave me.”
An hour later, as announced, four maids entered, carrying buckets of steaming water.After two trips each, the tub was nearly full, and Gabrielle couldn’t wait to get in.The warm sudsy water cloaked her in a comfort she didn’t feel within.Yet, if she shut her eyes, ’twas easy to believe she was back home on Jamaica bathing in the tub in her bedchamber.In truth, Omphile’s constant humming and praising of God reminded her so much of Charlisse, her mother, making the vision easier to imagine.But soon the water cooled, along with her dreams, and Gabrielle had to face the reality of her situation.She had lost her son and was once again the prisoner of a madman.
By the time the final rays of the sun withdrew from the window, Gabrielle, with Omphile’s help, had donned her undergarments and gown and put the jewels around her neck and wrists.A knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a lady’s maid, who took great pains to style Gabrielle’s hair in an upsweep of curls.
Finally, she grabbed her mask and spun around.
“Good Laud, Child.”Omphile exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide.“You look stunning.Like the princess you are.”
“I’m no princess,” Gabrielle returned, frowning.
