“I am Miss Tempest Driscoll of Dominica where my father is a diplomat and awaits our arrival.”
He knew the name, as did many in the Caribbean. The children of a British diplomat, if caught by the French, could be used as ransom, or a reason to get the British to pull back their blockade of Martinique that cut them off from France and caused a supply shortage.
“Who are they?” he pointed to the girls.
“My sisters.”
Rhys glanced back into the hut. “Where are your things?”
“All I have is my reticule, which contains my funds and timepiece. The rest of our belongings are on the ship. There was not room on the ship’s boat for us and our belongings so they had to be left behind.”
No, of course not. They were probably lucky to survive.
“Well, get comfortable, I am certain someone will be along to rescue you soon.” He turned his back on them and returned inside.
He was here on behalf of the British through his employment with Lionston and to gather intelligence—not be a nurserymaid.
Except, they were now his responsibility and Rhys did not like it one bit.
What he enjoyed was his peace and quiet and he would have neither while Miss Tempest Driscoll and her sisters were here.
Tempest watched as Mr. McNaught stomped back into the hut.
She had been taken aback when he had startled her, then quickly grew cross at his impertinence. Hopefully the distraction of her sisters emerging from the house had drawn his attention while she masked her shock and surprise at finding such a handsome man creeping about the hut. Green intense eyes, strong jaw, and a dimple in the middle of his chin. His blond hair was unfashionably long, straight and appeared not to have been brushed. In fact, his entire appearance, from his wrinkled clothing to his hair, gave her the impression that he had just rolled from his bed.
Thankfully she was in excellent control of her faculties and emotions not to show any outward reaction other than irritation.
It wasn’t her fault this is where they were stranded.
Further, if Goodard had assumed that this hut was unoccupied when he directed her here, he had been mistaken, but it was still better than the alternative. They could not go into Fort-de-France, especially if anyone learned who their father was.
While McNaught may be unpleasant, she would not let that deter her from making the best of a bad situation. She did have her sisters to think about after all.
“Girls, please continue collecting coconuts. We will drink the milk and eat the meat.”
“That is what we had this morning,” Ruth, the next to the youngest, whined. “I do not like coconut.”
“Eat some passion fruit,” McNaught grumbled.
“I am sick of passion fruit,” Ruth argued.
She would need to speak with her younger sister about being difficult. “Both will have to do for now and until I can gather other provisions.” Such as those that Mr. McNaught had just brought back with him. She did not yet know all that was contained in the crate but did notice bread and eggs.
“Nicoll, please keep a watch over the younger children while I have a word with Mr. McNaught,” she said to the eldest of her sisters, who was six and ten. Their four younger siblings, ages twelve to six, were of a different mother, who their father had married after Tempest’s mother had died.
Nicoll nodded, though concern lingered in her grey eyes, then directed their younger siblings to the coconut trees further down the beach as Tempest followed Mr. McNaught into the hut. He was in the process of unpacking the crate and she noticed several other foodstuffs that would go a long way in making meals for all of them. Besides the bread and eggs, he had brought back dried meats, sugar, beans, crackers, biscuits, wheat, maize, chilies, vanilla beans and other herbs and spices, sweet potatoes, cabbage and okra as well as oranges and bananas and several bottles of rum.
Well, those would have to go because she was not going to live in a hut with a man who spent his time deep in his cups.
In fact, he would need to go as well because he certainly could not share the one-room building with her and her sisters.
Knowing that the task before her was going to be difficult, Tempest drew in a deep breath and prepared to argue and make her point understood, fully aware that he would not easily capitulate to her demands.
“Before matters become difficult, I believe it is best if we come to an understanding,” Tempest announced. “We are adults; therefore, the safety of the children must come first.”
“I am confident that you can see to the task without my assistance.”
This was going to be even more difficult than she imagined if he was not even going to discuss the matter.
