Ayida began singing a song in her native tongue before hoisting her tray upon her shoulder and leaving.A spike of unease traveled down Caleb’s spine.Odd, that.He’d never sensed anything but kindness and gratefulness in the Creole, but Brandt’s warning rose to prick his suspicion, reminding him that he’d trusted a woman once.And paid for it dearly.
Alden arched a brow.“Faith now, too many people know about the Ring.Best hide it well.”
“Indeed.”Moving to his bookshelf, he pulled out a copy ofThe Practice of Pietyby Lewis Bayly.“No one will look in here.”Chuckling, he flipped it open, revealing a small leather box hidden in a cutout section in the middle of the book.Handing it to Alden, he tugged off the Ring and set it inside the box, then closed it, and inserted the book back onto the shelf.
“You may be right about that.”Alden chuckled.“I don’t believe anyone aboard has the slightest interest in piety.”
The sound of shattered porcelain rang from outside the cabin door, drawing both their gazes.Moving toward it, Caleb swung it open.No one was there.
Nothing but the shard of a broken teacup teetering on the deck.
Caleb could not afford to make any more mistakes.He must not fail.His life and the lives of Desi and his crew lay in the balance.Hence, the reason he and Alden made their way to the old auction yard to survey the lay of the land, seeking out potential hiding places the marquis could use to ambush them.
Leaving the town behind, Caleb trudged up the winding path, hoisting the lantern above his head.Behind him, Alden’s bootsteps brought more comfort than he cared to admit.So much rode on the outcome of this night.Did Caleb trust God?Did he trust himself?
In the distance, moonlight cast long, spectral fingers over a raised stone platform.The slave auction.The hush of night pressed close about him, save for the rasp of crickets and slap of waves, and Caleb studied every shadow for lurking danger.
A sudden rustle of skirts drifted past his ears.
“I knew you’d come.”A figure stepped out from the shadows.Both Caleb and Alden drew their blades.
♥
Ayida, a single candle in hand, crept down the companionway to the captain’s cabin.She eased the door open and slipped inside.The scent of sodden wood, aged parchment, whale oil, and musk swirled around her as the light from her candle shoved shadows aside.She couldn’t help but grin.Setting down the candlestick, she moved to the bookshelf.From her position outside the door, it had been far too easy to listen in on the captain and Alden’s conversation, to see through the slight opening where the captain had hidden the Ring.Finally, she would have the old, powerful relic.
Pulling down the book, she opened it, found the hidden box and the Ring right where the good captain had placed it.She held it up to the flickering light, admiring the fine jewel in the center and the etching along the sides.The etchings moved, the words slithering like snakes.Shaking her head, she blinked.They stopped.The Ring grew warm, radiating a power she knew did not come from the light.
She could give this to thatbètMontverre as she’d vowed.Or she could keep it for herself, for her people.Shouldn’t something this powerful be in the hands of the oppressed and not the oppressors?Think of the good she could do.And Montverre would never know she’d found it.
Closing the book, she placed it back on the shelf, pocketed the Ring, grabbed the candle, and started for the door.
A hard object struck her from behind.Pain thundered through her skull.Before she fell to the deck, a green sash floated across her vision.
Chapter 23: Redemption
“It is I, Geneviève,” came a tremulous voice from the gloom.
Only then did her comely visage emerge from the half-light, her cheeks pale as alabaster, her lips tinted like rose petals.The faintest waft of jasmine and orange blossom stirred a memory Caleb would rather bury.With a curt motion, he slid his blade home.“Are you not a trifle early for the exchange?”He snorted in disdain.
“And you, monsieur, are you not, as well?”
Beside him, Alden kept his cutlass steady, suspicion etched on his weathered face.
“I must speak with you, Caleb.”Her dark eyes darted to Alden’s blade.“Alone.”
Caleb inclined his head.“Lower it.’Tis all right.”
Groaning, Alden sheathed his cutlass.“Beware, Captain.I’ve heard it said the viper smiles before she bites.”
The lady cast him a scathing look, then gathered her skirts and moved a ways off.
Against the protest of his better sense, Caleb followed, whispering a prayer for wisdom beneath his breath.He would not be beguiled anew.
“How did you know I’d be here?”he demanded.
She turned, moonlight glimmering in the sheen of her eyes.“You are a cautious commander.I knew you would survey the ground where my father bade you meet him.”
“Then, say your piece.”
