Apparently the door locked both ways, for she had been locked out of his chamber. Curious, she hurried to the hallway door. To her surprise, that door swung open to her touch. She stepped out, and then back in.
What was it of his that he did not want her to find? She wondered. She wandered to the windows and pondered the question.
She was a captive, she thought, in a most curious place.
He did not return for supper that night. Her trunks were delivered to her, all of them, and she saw that nothing of hers had been molested. Her jewels were still among her belongings, along with the finest of her gowns—velvets and brocades, gold-threaded linens, silks and satins, all were there. They were delivered by Mr. Tallingsworth and another man, under the direction of Mr. Soames. Later, Robert Arrowsmith came to see her, informing her that the Hawk would not return, much to his regret. Mr. Soames would see that supper was delivered to her room.
Skye thanked Robert Arrowsmith, keeping her eyes lowered. She was alarmed to discover that it was much to her regret, too, that the Hawk would not be returning.
Robert had been given careful orders, she thought. He walked about the room lighting lanterns until all was aglow. She thanked him quietly, and he left her.
She slept well that night.
In the morning she awoke to the sounds of laughter. Carefully opening her eyes, she gasped in astonishment. The pretty Irish lasses, Tara and Bess, were standing before her, and looking none the worse for wear.
“Bess! Tara!” she cried, pushing up in amazement.
Tara plopped a tray upon her lap. “Aye, Lady Kinsdale!” A shimmer of tears touched her eyes. “We’re so grateful to ye, lady! Ye stepped in ta save us, ya know.”
Skye blinked. “I didn’t save you from anything! We’re captives of a pirate. They dragged—”
“They dragged us into the second mate’s cabin, and treated us with more kindness than many a mistress I’ve known,” Tara said. Skye stared at the girl. She was very young, barely sixteen, but she spoke with a startling wisdom.
Skye’s eyes narrowed. “You were not…you were not bothered in any way?”
Tara shook her head. “Not at all. Oh, we were deeply afraid when the commotion began at that other island! I thought that someone would come to burst down the doors! But nothing bad happened to us, and then we were brought here!”
“And it is paradise!” Bess cried.
Nibbling upon a piece of bread, Skye eyed her suspiciously. Her brow arched. “And how do you know that this is…paradise?”
Tara stared at Bess and shrugged. “Why, we’ve seen much of it, milady. Near the dock there’s a few fine houses and stores and the like. Any seaman who chooses to do so may build himself a home. There’s a freshwater lagoon inland, and deep into the cove there are soft sand beaches protected by rocks and shoals and the water is the most beautiful color you’d ever want to see, milady!”
“Oh?” Skye murmured.
Tara flushed crimson. “There’s a man. A Mr. Roundtree, milady. He took us riding there in his little pony trap when we arrived.”
“A man?” Skye said. “Oh, Tara. A pirate!”
Tara shrugged, then lowered her head in shame. She looked at Skye then with a sheepish smile. “Milady, there’s even a chapel here! And a minister from the Church of England.”
Skye swallowed some coffee then offered the tray back to Bessie. “I see. And when Mr. Roundtree was finished showing you this paradise, he took you to church services?”
Bessie flushed radiantly this time. “Well, no, but Lady Kinsdale, he did point out the chapel to us.”
“A pirate’s priest,” Skye muttered. “What next?”
What next indeed?
Having given back her breakfast tray, she pattered to the pitcher and bowl left upon a small stand and washed her face, appreciating the coolness of the water against her flushed skin. While she toweled her skin she decided to test her freedom. She turned back to the girls. “Bessie, would you find my riding habit? I should like to view this—paradise.”
Bessie and Tara obligingly set to work. It was fun to have them back. They chattered nonstop, and even if their chatter was all about Mr. Roundtree and his friend, Simon Greene, it brightened her spirits tremendously. That the girls were alive did not surprise her, for she knew that the Silver Hawk was not a bloodthirsty murdering pirate.
That they were happy as larks did startle her, however, for she could not forget those first moments when the Hawk had wrested the ship from One-Eyed Jack, claimed her for himself—and cast the girls to their fate among his men.
The Hawk was, indeed, a most exceptional man.
Dressed handsomely in a riding suit of brown velvet, Skye left Tara and Bessie. Her skirt was full and sweeping with yards of fabric, while the jacket much resembled a man’s frock coat. She ran down the stairway, seeing no one, and when she came into the front hall, she heard voices. There was a group of men in the dining room, she realized. She headed for the doorway, but before she could peek in, Mr. Soames appeared, closing the door behind himself. “Good morning, Lady Kinsdale,” he said.
