Her painted brows lifted as she read. Then, blowing out a grunt, she held out her hand, palm open.
Confused, Emeline shook her head.
“The coins.” The woman gave an incredulous snort.
Hence, the money Emeline thought the captain had given her, the only generous thing he had done, she now handed over to this slattern.
At least the slattern led her inside.
“You are acquainted withCapitaineKeene,non?” The woman sashayed down a dark hallway past a brightly colored receiving room and another cozier parlor with stuffed chairs, woven rugs, and a large dog that lifted his head at their passing.
“Not in the way you assume, mademoiselle.”
The woman merely huffed in reply. Gathering her lavish skirts, she ascended a set of curved stairs onto a landing lined with a railing on one side and three closed doors on the other, one of which she opened.
“You may tell the…how do you say…rakish scoundrel…that I do not want his castoffs.” Anger darkened the woman’s red-painted cheeks.
Castoffs? Indignant, Emeline eased past her into the room. “I beg your pardon. I am not one of his doxies.”
The woman flattened her lips, studying Emeline with suspicion. “Hmm. Certainly not like his usual.” She shrugged. “Very well. You will be comfortable in here,Mademoiselle.” Untying the pouch, she opened it and glanced within, a wide smile forming on her lips. “And provided with one meal a day until your papa arrives. Turn around.” She spun her hand in the air. “Let me see you.”
Unsure what to do, Emeline slowly pivoted.
“Oui, you could make a good deal of money while you are here.” She jingled the pouch of coins. “Why rely on the generosity ofcapricieuxmen like Blake when you can take care of yourself, eh?”
Heat swamped Emeline at what the woman suggested. Yet despite the air fleeing her lungs, she managed to choke out, “I thank you, madam, but I…but I…”
“Ah, I see.” She smiled, not a cruel smile, nor one that indicated displeasure, but one of understanding. “Very well. I’ll send Miss Catherine with some food and”—her nose pinched—“perhaps a clean gown and underthings.Oui,oui,you are about the same size. You may thank me later.”
With that, she closed the door before Emeline could utter another word.
’Twas a nicely decorated chamber, complete with a four-poster bed, a carved chest of drawers, a tall wardrobe, and a single upholstered red chair. A colorful woven rug graced the wooden floor, while heavy damask curtains framed the window. Emeline moved to look out upon the city. Beyond the many roofs, a strip of turquoise water sparkled in the sun. Bare masts poked into the sky, idly rocking like a maestro’s baton in some deranged orchestra. She wondered which one was theSummons, but what did it matter? She was free. And safe for the time being.
Thank you, Lord.
Retrieving the Ring from her skirt pocket, she held it up to the sunlight, admiring how the rays sparkled off the crimson gem in the center. Did it possess the power Captain Keene claimed? For there was no denying the unusual mist and then the change in wind and tide that had given him the advantage. Either way, Emeline knew of only two forms of supernatural power in the world—good and evil, God and Satan. God no longer worked through objects as in the days before Jesus. Nay, He worked through His children filled with His Spirit. Hence, the Ring’s powers must come from the enemy of mankind.
Which was why she must get rid of it immediately. Hide it where no one would ever find it. Toss it into the depths of the sea. Or perhaps throw it into the fire where all the evil it possessed would burn.
b
“Where is my Ring, you dung-soiled traitorous beast?” Blake darted for Bandit, but the fiendish monkey jumped onto the desk, screeching as if he were about to be skinned alive—which he might very well be once Blake got ahold of him.
IfBlake got ahold of him.
He lunged, but the little weasel whisked off the desk and sped across the cabin, squealing like a baby.
The door opened. “You all right,Capitaine?” Maston poked his head in.
Bandit raced out the door in a blur of brown fur. Growling, Blake fisted his hands. “Now I’ll never catch him!”
“Your wee monkey?” Maston glanced over his shoulder. “What has he done to you?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “He stole something of mine. A Ring.”
Maston waved a hand through the air, the torn lace at his cuffs fluttering. “With the last haul we took, you can buy another.”
If only that were true. He ground his fists until his fingers ached. He had but one recourse.
