“The other man, the one you tried to—”
“That was Pauley Andrews,” she replied. “He was the man who brought me to George and Francine. The day I came to them we celebrated in later years as an anniversary.” Her voice broke and she glanced away from the captain, cursing her lack of control. “That morning was the first time I had seen Pauley since he took me to Tortola. By afternoon—” She stopped, blinking back tears.
Cloud’s face was grave as she talked. He thought back to the girl on the beach and the man who approached her. He remembered thinking then that she was in love with him. It was strange to find out the man was not her husband, but that love would have been expressed in an entirely different manner. “You don’t have to tell me anymore,” he said as he watched her struggling for composure. He felt a great deal of respect for her as she battled all the emotions welling up inside her. When she faced him again, her eyes were clear and almost vacant, as if the light inside them had been snuffed. Her features were as placid as a calm sea. Her mouth, nose, cheeks, and brows simply existed on her face, without reflecting any of her turmoil. They were like ornaments now, pleasant to look upon but without expression. He thought he understood her desire for control. He was not moved by crying, irrational females. And yet, if she were to break down completely, he would hold her and not care that she cried. He understood what would be behind the emotions and so did she. That made the difference.
“I would like to finish, if you don’t mind,” she said quietly and continued before he had a chance to object. “The day Captain Travers came to my home was my anniversary. George left work early so he could be with Francine and me. The servants were given a holiday so we could celebrate alone. That is the way we preferred it. Pauley arrived quite by accident. He promised to visit me whenever his ship came near the island. This was the first opportunity he had. I don’t know how much you saw of what happened, but you know they were all murdered. That is all you have to know. Do you have any more questions?”
“None that can’t wait. But you must have some.”
“I would like to know where I am.”
He smiled. “You are on board the USSHamilton.A naval vessel. We are currently headed for Washington and we should be there within a few weeks. I trust that is satisfactory.”
Alexis glared at him while her fingers clenched the knife she had used to peel her orange. “It is not satisfactory, Captain.” She raised the hand holding the knife slowly. Cloud did not blink an eye. She twisted suddenly and with a quick snap of her wrist she hurled the knife at the cabin door. It struck a knothole she had targeted dead center.
“Do all island girls learn that skill?” he asked, unmoved.
“No. Pauley taught me.” She waited to see if he was going to say anything else but he remained silent, totally composed, his green eyes meeting her gaze solidly. “You had no right to take me off the island, Cloud.” She dropped his title to see if he would care. He didn’t. In fact, she thought she detected a slight curving of his lips. It infuriated her. “I have things to do there. I do not want to go to the United States.” If only Pauley could have heard her say that. “You must turn this ship around and take me back.”
“Must I, Miss Danty?” His tone was one of amusement but it was forced. Landis had been right. She’d meant what she said on the hill and she was still determined to go through with it. Somehow it pleased him, though he didn’t dare say so aloud.
“Alex. As in Alexis. And yes, you must. You had no right to make a decision for me that wasn’t yours to make. I am asking you to rectify your mistake and take me home.”
“I wasn’t aware you were asking me to do anything.” Alex. He liked that. It suited her. “I have heard nothing but demands. Actually you sound quite ungrateful.”
“I cannot be grateful to you for saving my life if you will not allow me to live it.”
“But I am giving you a chance to live it,” he said patiently. “There is nothing left for you on Tortola. If you go back there and try to carry out your revenge you will die. I will not be responsible for that.”
“I was not aware my life, and therefore my death, was your responsibility. It is my decision. I am the one who will bear the results of it, not you. It is not your plan, but mine, that must be followed through. What is there for me in Washington? What is there for me anywhere in the United States now for that matter? The answer is nothing. My reason for living is somewhere on this ocean—probably in Antigua by now—and I will find him.”
“And if you fail?”
“I won’t.”
“All right. And if you succeed? What then, if vengeance is your only reason to live?”
“Quinton Shipping,” she replied, taking satisfaction in the way his eyebrows lifted slightly. It was a questioning look, not one of disbelief. “George taught me everything there was to know. After I kill Travers I will go back to Roadtown and rebuild the shipping line. It would have been mine one day. Now it’s mine sooner than I expected and certainly not the way I wanted it.”
“You seem to have answers for everything, Alex,” he said, dropping another section of fruit into his mouth.
“Almost everything,” she responded quickly. “I don’t know why you brought me with you.”
“You needed medical attention. John has had some experience dealing with lashings worse than yours. I trusted him to help you.” Cloud struggled to keep his gaze focused on hers. What he said was true, but it was not the entire truth. She would know that if he turned away. He thought she probably knew already. She was not a person one could hide things from.
“You could have left me at the settlement. There are people there who would have helped me. My friends, my father’s associates, or someone who worked for him would have cared for me.”
“You should have a real doctor, not some old woman with herbs and incantations,” he said patiently. “You can get proper care in Washington.”
“I am doing just fine without a doctor. Tortola is not uncivilized. I would have had good care there.” She stopped. It was obvious he was not going to tell her the real reason he had taken her away; suddenly she decided she did not want to know. And she could not ask him why he did not want to take her back since that was tied to the reason she was here now. There must be another way to make him understand she could not go any further with him.
“Cloud. I am a wealthy woman. The British may have taken some of my ships but they did not take everything. There are still Quinton vessels on cargo routes, and there is probably enough money in the office for me to start rebuilding soon. Our house was not as large as some of the planters’ homes. We lived simply in comparison to most of them, but that was by personal choice, not by necessity. I can pay you and your crew a great deal of money if you will return me to my home.”
Cloud stood up, picking up his own knife. With a dexterity matching Alexis’s he threw the knife at the door. It stuck in the wood only a few inches from hers. “No,” he answered firmly. “I do not want your money and neither do my men.”
Alexis pushed her chair back and got to her feet. A sudden pain shot up her back and she tried not to let him see it. She gripped the edge of the table tightly. “Then what do you want, damn you?” The words were not said angrily, rather frustratedly, despairingly. She could not understand why he was refusing her.
“I want what is best for you.”
