“What is it, Pierre?” Lafitte asked wearily, rising out of his tub. He took the towel offered to him by his servant, André, and began drying himself. “You really do have a habit of interrupting me at the most inopportune times.”
“Ahh, Jean. But when has it been for anything unimportant?”
“I concede,mon frère.” He threw the towel to one side where it was hastily retrieved by André before it could watermark the polished floors and began to dress. “What is it this time? Has Governor Claiborne issued a new warrant for my arrest?”
“You make jokes,” said Pierre. Sighing, he settled himself into one of the expensive Louis XIV chairs. He stretched his small, wiry frame in a motion that reminded Jean of a cat staking out his sleeping territory.
“You do not seem overly concerned,” he noted. It was merely a rhetorical observation. Jean was unaware of anything that could make his brother excited.
“That is because the problem is being taken care of at this very minute.”
“Then why bother me with it?”
“Because one of the problems…no, actually all of the problems…are asking to see you.”
“Enough,” Lafitte ordered sharply. “You are talking in riddles. Has someone come to Barataría uninvited?” He was pulling on a fresh shirt, plainly agitated with both the buttons and his brother.
“Help him, André,” Pierre said, enjoying Jean’s anger. As the servant rushed in to aid Lafitte, Pierre continued. “Do you remember Captain Danty?”
“What kind of question is that? Without me she would not be Captain of anything.”
“Her ship is here,” continued Pierre, as if Jean had said nothing. “At least her men say it is her ship.”
“Why do you doubt?”
“Because one of the men aboard has identified himself as Tanner Cloud. I believe that is the name you mentioned to me when you spoke of Alexis. Was not he the commander she escaped from?”
“You have a good memory. I believe that is the name.”
“I have been thinking perhaps this was just a trap he was setting to find her.”
Jean turned to the mirror and straightened the collar of his shirt. “I will not need you now, André. Go to Jeannine and tell her there will be guests for dinner.” André bowed slightly and left the room. Jean turned back to his brother. “You may be right, Pierre. From what Alexis told me he was a very determined man. You say he wants to see me?”
“The man is not alone in that. His whole crew wants to see you. Their ship was damaged in yesterday’s storm. They were limping in here when we intercepted them. They did not put up a fight. They said they were coming to see us anyway.”
“Where are they now?”
“Down in the bay. I would not let them off the ship until I found out what they were up to. They will not tell me anything except that they will tell you everything.”
“It is good to see their trust is not misplaced.” Lafitte grinned.“Allons.We will talk to these men. We have not shown them much hospitality so far.” He tucked a pistol into the waistband of his tailored trousers and followed Pierre out of the room to greet his unexpected guests.
When they reached the crest of the hill overlooking the bay, Lafitte stopped and surveyed the ship beside the one belonging to Pierre. He saw the broken mast, the damaged sails, and the gaping space that should have been railing. He also noted the lines of the ship, the unmistakable craftsmanship that made it a Quinton vessel.
“Mon Dieu!” he swore under his breath. His lips creased in a thin line and his dark brows drew together. “It is her ship, Pierre. She had made alterations consistent with the goal she had in mind, but it is without a doubt the ship I placed in her hands.”
“Then where is she?” asked Pierre. He frowned, looking at Jean’s face. His brother’s expression was such that Pierre expected only the worst.
“That is what we are going to find out.” He started over the hill, breaking into a run as he approached the shore. He remembered the golden hair and sparkling eyes he had often likened to champagne, much to Alexis’s discomfort. The defiant tilt of her head, the lift of her chin, the cool gaze she used to keep his men at a distance, were still etched in his memory. But her seriousness, her resolve, her determination to avenge those she’d lost, were more clearly part of his recall than any of her physical attributes. As he and Pierre were rowed out to the vessel he remembered the things he had taught her and the way she had hung on every lesson, knowing her life depended upon it. Pierre had once laughed at him for being so interested in Captain Danty’s whereabouts; but then, Pierre had never met her. It was his crew’s great respect for Alexis that made them never consider he had returned her ship to her out of weakness. It was his crew that kept their ears open for news of Travers, and it was they who decided that Quinton vessels would not be part of any booty. They shared a sense of pride when they heard of Captain Danty’s exploits, realizing they had something to do with her success, but also believing she would have found a way without them.
Lafitte grabbed the rope ladder thrown over the side of the ship and scrambled to the top. He swore he would kill them should he find this was some kind of ruse to hurt Alexis.
Landing lightly on his feet, he quickly surveyed the men around him. Their faces, pale and gaunt, only served to tighten the knot in his stomach. He knew then something beyond his power to avenge had happened to her.
“I am Jean Lafitte,” he said simply. “Pierre says you want to see me.” Beside him, Pierre was ready to step forward and introduce Cloud. Lafitte, however, had already eyed the man he thought possessed the name. He stepped forward, holding out his hand. “You are Captain Cloud, I believe.”
Cloud reached for the hand and shook it firmly. “I am. But how did you know?” He did not mention that he would have known Lafitte anywhere from Alexis’s brief allusion to the pirate’s mocking blue-green gaze and lifted eyebrow.
“We have an acquaintance in common,n’est-ce pas?” He dropped Cloud’s hand. “You are as she described you. It could only be you who would dare to pull her from the rigging when she was about her business.” He saw Cloud wince. “I do not know if that look is because the memory of your action is particularly distressing or…” His voice trailed off. He did not know how to phrase the thought in his mind. He spoke again, this time dearly to discover what the presence of her ship meant.
