He stared at her, confused. “Have you gone mad? Let’s begone.”
But she remained in place, eyes locked upon his. Darkness swirled in her gaze. Nay, worse than darkness, a throbbing blackness sparked with fire. Then it was gone.
All strength drained from Blake, and he gripped the doorframe lest he fall. What was happening?
“You don’t look well, Blake.” Jo approached. “En fait, you have gone quite pale.”
Hang it! Gathering all his strength and quickly fading wits, Blake stumbled into his bed chamber. He’d be damned if he would faint like some timid female in front of Josephine, for the lady pounced on any sign of weakness like a shark to blood. Hence, when his vision began to spin and his legs wobbled, he quickly excused himself and ambled down the hall, bumping into side tables and walls before he gained the privacy of his room.
“Cap’n!” The startled voice belonged to Finn, standing at Blake’s open wardrobe. At least he thought ’twas Finn through the haze that now covered Blake’s eyes.
“What are you doing in here, Finn?” Blake managed to shout as he dropped into a chair.
“Nothin’, Cap’n.” Clearly flustered, his quartermaster continued in a nervous tirade. “Jist admirin’ yer attire, were thinkin’ I might ask ye if I can borrow one o’ yer fancy suits. There’s a serving wench I’ve got me eye on, you see, an’—”
“Silence!” Blake held up a hand to halt the incessant chattering, which was wreaking havoc on his already chipped mind. “Cease your babbling, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Finn approached, peering at Blake curiously. “Are ye all right, Cap’n?”
Conspicuously absent was Finn’s pipe, but Blake supposed if he intended to steal something, ’twould not be wise to leave the smell of tobacco in the room.
“Get out, Finn. Leave me be.” Blake should punish him for such an affront, but at the moment, he could hardly form two thoughts. “Out!”
Grumbling, Finn started away.
“Wait.” Blake rubbed his temples where an agonizing pain rose. “Gather ten of the crew and take Josephine to her boat. Make sure she rows out to her ship at once!”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
b
Slivers of moonlight broke through clouds and drifted into Emeline’s chamber, luring her outside to make another dash through the jungle, as she had done the night before. The fishing boat had still been there! And ready to set sail. But the seas had been too rough. The retreating storm had left a wake of surging whitecapped waves far too large for her small fishing boat to navigate safely. So, she had returned to her chamber, pleased when she’d been able to leave and come back undetected.
She’d not seen or heard Blake the entire day, though whispers floating about the house spoke of how he’d finally sent Josephine Arnaud back to her ship. Other whispers ensued, particularly when Emeline had ventured down for a light supper with Charlie and Pedro.
“Cap’n’s ill.” Charlie had answered Emeline’s inquiry as to his whereabouts.
Emeline had settled in her mind that she would never see him again. That she didn’t wish to see him again. Though now that she found him absent, it worried her. “Again? But he’d recovered so nicely.”
“Don’t know what it be, Miss.” Pedro plucked a banana from the buffet and began peeling it. “But it has him in a foul mood.”
“Perhaps I should check on him,” Emeline said, glancing at pirates and servants alike stuffing their faces with the fine fare Cook had laid out on banquet tables.
“I wouldn’t bother, Miss.” Sam Goode slid beside her, plateful of collared beef and pickled cucumbers in one hand and a drink in the other. “He merely needs his rest.”
“What do you think is the source of this second illness?”
“Nothing serious, I assure you. Most likely exhaustion from overwork. He needs rest is all.”
Bandit dashed into the hall, leapt atop the table beside Emeline, and began screeching and squawking something fierce.
Charlie waved him away. “Wonder what’s gotten into him?”
“Filthy beast,” Sam exclaimed as he grabbed his food and hastened off.
Whatever it was, Bandit would not cease his frantic diatribe until Emeline picked him up and brought him to her chamber. Even then the monkey seemed unusually agitated and jittery, pacing in front of the door that led to Blake’s chamber until finally, when evening shadows stole the sunlight, he fled out the window.
Afterward, Emeline had taken up her own pace, waiting…waiting…for the house to quiet, its occupants to take to their beds, and to ensure Blake would not burst through her door. Minutes passed like hours, as one by one, ever so slowly, the sounds of music, laughter, conversation, and the footsteps of servants skittering to and fro all ceased. Replaced by the katydids, flutter of leaves in the breeze, lap of waves, and the call of night herons outside.
