Bandit leapt onto the railing and began a long-winded, screeching rant, complete with hand gestures pointing toward the rain. Emeline hoped his scolding would, indeed, scare the storm away. She wondered why Blake hadn’t used his Ring, If it could create storms, surely it could dissipate them? But she hadn’t seen him since she’d dashed from his chamber, not even during the past two nights when he normally interrupted her sleep. She could only assume he’d found solace elsewhere.
’Twas one of the reasons she’d taken her meals in her room. If he was so foolish to continue a dalliance with a woman, evil or not, who’d left him unconscious on the floor, then they deserved each other.
In truth, if not for the blasted storm, she would have set sail at the first opportunity. As it was, her loneliness finally overcame her judgment, and she decided to come down for supper.
“Look!” Charlie exclaimed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “Sky!”
Following her gaze, Emeline spotted a small speck of blue in the distance and a brightening of the clouds around it. The rain lessened slightly.
“Thank God,” she said. Even Bandit grinned and leapt back into her arms.
Maybe now she could leave this godforsaken island once and for all.
Apparently not until she suffered through one last dinner with the crew of theSummons, including their captain, who entered the hall looking no worse the wear for his illness. His eyes immediately latched upon her, and a grin lifted his lips. But no sooner did he start toward her, than Mademoiselle Josephine Arnaud, or should she say Captain Arnaud—as Finn had informed Emeline—swept into the room, this time wearing a stunning gown and very tight stomacher which accentuated every one of her abundant curves.
All male eyes snapped in her direction as she looped her arm through Blake’s and halted him in his tracks. Was it Emeline’s imagination, or did the lady cast her a look of spite over her shoulder?
The meal passed like many others, with the sounds of burps and grunts and the slapping of lips, reminding Emeline of cows chewing their cud. Add to that an overindulgence of rum along with the pompous boasting of men who felt the need to bloviate on their petty accomplishments. Though Blake sat to her right at the head of the table, ’twas Josephine on his other side who demanded his attention. Yet from his reaction, he seemed none too pleased. Odd, that. More than once, she heard him tell her in no uncertain terms that since the storm had dissipated, she was to leave.
On the contrary, whenever he faced Emeline, his manner softened as he inquired whether she liked the food, how she fared, and told her that he’d missed her violin playing.
b
“Quite an accomplishment,ma chère.”
Emeline continued to study the painting while cringing at the French voice that interrupted her quiet enjoyment. She’d come into the gallery to escape the drunken revelry in the hall and to enjoy one last look at the exquisite artwork Blake had collected. Now that the storm had passed, she hoped to make her escape tonight. What she hadn’t expected was to see Josephine moving toward her with a catlike grin on her comely face.
Even before the lady stopped beside her, a heaviness permeated the air. More than a heaviness, ’twas a wickedness Emeline had oft felt when in the presence of a voodoo practitioner.
“To what do you refer,Mademoiselle?”
“Call me Jo. Everyone does.” She cocked her head and studied the painting. “Blake does have such odd taste in art.”
Emeline made no comment.
“I refer, of course, to the way you captivated him,” Jo continued. “It is quite obvious he is infatuated with you.” Her grin belied the slightest hint of spite in her voice.
Emeline stifled a laugh. Ridiculous notion. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Jo sighed. “It is that Ring, you know, causing all his recent trouble. It is evil, pure evil, and despite the fables that surround it, it will only cause Blake pain, heartache, and possibly death.”
Though Emeline gave the lady a suspicious glance, she quite agreed. Still, how did the woman know about the relic—or its power?
“I only bring it up,” Jo continued, “because, regardless of what you may think of me, I do care for Blake. He and I were quite close once.”
The sultry tone of her voice sent a shard through Emeline’s heart. “You may be right,Mademoiselle, as I suspect the same, but there’s naught to do about it. The captain refuses to relinquish it nor even remove it from his finger.”
b
Spikes of pain, like pinpricks of fire, stabbed Josephine’s back. They began the moment she’d drawn close to the repugnant prude and only grew worse the longer she spoke with her. She shifted her stance uncomfortably, but the pain only increased. With it, fear gnawed her belly.Fear? Something she hadn’t felt in quite some time. At least not until she came to this island. And more specifically near this strange woman.
She glared into Emeline’s golden eyes and did what she must, what she’d done a dozen times with a dozen people who grated her nerves. She invoked a silent curse upon her.
The lady didn’t react at all, merely shifted her gaze back to the painting. No sickness invaded her belly, no fever rose to consume her, no confusion muddled her thoughts.Non. The woman seemed impervious to the evil flung her way, almost as if there were an invisible shield around her.
Jo silently cursed. Of course. She belonged to the enemy! That would explain the pain and fear in her presence, the bright light that made Josephine want to run for the shadows.Devil’s blood! She must limit her time with the righteous snod, or surely the God she served would expose Jo for what she was.
“I’m told you have a measure of influence on Blake,” she interjected, angry that the woman continued to ignore her.
