Authors: Lynelle Clark
place, but you always were the gentleman.' The group
laughed gruffly. Roberto did not comment but poured all
the glasses and sat back, taking a sip of his own.
'So, she is in good health?'
'Yes.'
'You don't offer much, Roberto. Are you hiding
something?' came the low, impatient reply.
'No, Falcon.' Roberto met the Falcon's glare head
on. The Falcon's eyes swept between him and Pierre but
neither elaborated on anything.
'How is Pedro?' Roberto asked instead, and a smug
grin appeared on the Falcon's face.
'The little sneak got away. How I still don't know,
but I will get to the bottom of it soon.' Pierre and Roberto
looked at each other briefly before they placed their
attention back on him. 'When did this happen?'
'Two days ago,' and he snickered, 'but don't you
worry, we will get him. The patrols are canvassing the
island as we speak.' He slapped Tiny on his small
shoulders. 'And then it is playtime.' This caused Tiny to
smile widely so that you could see the empty gums, the
beady eyes sparkling with glee. But he said nothing, as
always.
'If you don't mind, I want to go to my hut make sure
everything is acceptable so that I can join the search,'
Roberto said as he drank the last of his wine
'Yes, of course, but when will I meet the ransom?'
Falcon asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand.
'Soon.' Both he and Pierre got up and left the hut.
Nothing was said between them but each had a grin
on their faces. The plan was under way.
Soon, Falcon,
both thought.
18
Two days passed before Rosa-Lee finally saw a
longboat rowing towards the
Contra O Vento.
In all this time, she had neither heard from nor seen
Roberto or Pierre. She paced their cabin nervously. She
was not sure what was going on, but she felt uneasy, and all
the uncertainty and doubts settled in her mind. She kept
thinking of all the evidence against the man she now called
husband.
Her pirate.
She loved him. That much she knew.
He was not acting like the pirates her father told her
about. The cruel ways of their existence was not a part of
him, or of Pierre, for that matter. The two were best friends
but they rarely spoke about themselves, never let her in on
the bond they shared.
Then there was that letter she had delivered to the
Captain of the D.E.I.C ship. Why would a pirate hand a
D.E.I.C captain a letter? It did not add up.
His persistence in reminding her that she must trust
him because everything was not as it seemed caused more
questions. He was a pirate, strict and fierce, although she
had seen a side of him that she doubted other people were
privy to.
He was an exceptional lover, tender at times, brutal
at other times, but he always adored her. She felt safe in his
strong arms and she smiled, wrapping her arms around
herself. She missed him fiercely.
His love of good books was evident. The rows of
books on the shelves were worn at the corners from years
of reading. His knowledge of the world astounded her. He
had seen most of the known world, which she only heard
from her father or had read about.
He had a love for both land and sea as he talked
about the farm, the land, his country and his parents. He
loved them, missed them and still talked about his sister
reverently.
He knew the seas, the currents, and every kind of
cloud and what it meant. He knew when to be fearful of the
sky and prepared or just dismiss it and call its bluff or, as
he called it, 'a pout of the heavens,' nothing to be afraid of.
Then there were those dreamy hands that made
magic over her skin, the smile that lit up his face, causing
the scar to disappear into the laugh lines, the glow of his
passionate eyes when he made love with her, coaching her.
Her tender loving pirate. Her heart ached because of
her unexpected love for him. It was the not knowing that
drove her to pacing. Enrico kept her company the best he
could, but she knew she did not make it easy for the
chamber boy, hardly listening when he told of his past life
before he joined Roberto's crew.
The pirate ships lying at anchor all around her
unnerved her, menacing and dark, holding secrets she was
sure she didn't wanted to know, the world of her husband.
Sometimes he would tell her stories, but she was
sure he toned it down, not to upset her, but she did have a
healthy imagination and she could read between the lines.
After all, her father did tell them stories as well, stories that
were fearful filled with terror and horror. From her father
they were stories that other people lived, yet now it was
different. Roberto lived them, making it all real. The scars
proved that.
Then there were the women. Her husband was
virile, that she knew, and to imagine him in the arms of
others made her blood boil in jealousy. They had known
him, enjoyed his lovemaking long before she was in the
picture. They had taught him the things he was teaching her
now and it did not sit well with her. She had not mentioned
it to him and knew she had to work through it if she wanted
to continue to trust him.
The men made sure that she stayed hidden in the
cabin so as not to attract any unnecessary attention. The
crew was on alert all the time. Tension hung like a thick,
unseen blanket in the air. They were ready for anything, but
it was not good for her nerves. The not knowing, not being
out there created more nerves.
Her stomach clenched and when she woke the
morning of the second day she had to run for the chamber
pot. Sweat rolled down her trembling body and the moment
Enrico saw her he called for the doctor. She was pale and
worn out.
The doctor encouraged her to eat often; if not for
her, for the new life she carried.
As the long boat bumped against the hull Rosa-Lee
finally got herself under control and went to the upper
deck.
†††
Pierre stepped on the upper deck with heavy boots
and the men were glad to see him, meeting him with toothy
grins. He was also a good man and the crew respected him.
He had a self-assurance about him that made him attractive.
Rosa-Lee had also seen loneliness in him and often
wondered about it, but over the past four months, he had
never once spoken about himself. The same vibe that she
had from Roberto she also had about him, he also did not
match the description of a pirate, yet he was one. He
laughed easily and was pleasant to talk to.
'Are you ready, Señorita?' All familiarity was gone
and they treated her like in the beginning. She had also
noticed that they did not call her Señora. There must be a
reason for that. She was sure it would become clear later.
'Yes, Señor, I am,' she replied, stroking the dress
she had chosen with care, a pale blue taffeta which
enhanced her creamy neck, shoulders and bosom. The
bodice was hand-stitched with fine needlework. It clung
around her and she found it difficult to breathe but it gave
her the necessary courage to do what was expected. Her
waist was cinched small, according to the latest fashion.
She patted herself on her still-flat tummy as if to remind
herself what was at stake.
They helped her into the long boat. The boats man,
who was unknown to her, looked at her with a lustful grin.
His eyes roamed over her body and she felt shivers running
down her spine. She did not meet the arrogant stare.
With precision, they rowed to land. Rosa-Lee felt
small as they passed the menacing ships. Men whistled and
cheered them on as they passed, but she kept her head
down, cringing under some of the vulgar comments. Pierre
touched her on the back, unnoticed by the rest, reminding
her that he was there and she knew she was safe with him
around.
They landed and for the first time in four months,
she was back on solid ground. Her legs felt unsteady and
almost out of place but soon the feeling of stable firmness
of the land returned and she walked steadily behind Pierre.
Her eyes were on his boots.
Men watched her, following her with greedy,
hungry eyes. Pierre had tied her hands together with a
blank look, pulling her behind him; she said nothing,
looked nowhere in particular, and made no eye contact with
anyone.
Men tried to grope at her but Enrico, who walked
behind her the whole time, removed their hands with ease,
protecting her. Unbearable smells welled up in her nose,
and she had to fight very hard against the nausea that made
her want to double over. She had to swallow a few times to
get it down but remained calm, willing herself to breathe
controlled breaths.
After about fifteen minutes of walking through the
throng, they came into a clearing. Men stood all around her,
looking down at her with piercing, hungry eyes. Stifling
smoke filled the air. Her eyes burned from it and Pierre left
her alone, but she could sense Enrico behind her and was at
ease.
She looked around, searching for the man she loved,
and when she saw him between a few men, she wanted to
call him. Roberto stood out tall and strong, far above them,
looking at her with a blank stare as if he did not know her
in this world. She remembered his words and repeated to
herself,
He loves me. I know this, trust him.
Suddenly there was a light buzz in the air and in her
vision another man stepped up, large and menacing. Fierce
words assaulted her.
The Falcon, she guessed. The nose was a dead
giveaway to the name. He was huge, and she had to lift her
head to look at him towering over her. His teeth were
yellow, signalling his unhealthy lifestyle and an ugly grin
was on his face. Handsome was not a word used in the
same sentence with this man. He was extremely rough. His
face had a leather-like look from years of exposure to the
elements.
He looked at her; the grin reached his eyes but made
it more sinister.
'Ah the sister, finally. Ah, but you are pretty.' With
rough hands he took her chin in his hand turning her head
to both sides. She could not help herself and shivered.
He did not let on that he noticed it and continued
'Your brother did not lie. You are pretty.' He roared
with laughter and the men joined in, except Roberto. He
stood there emotionless, looking straight at her, not missing
anything. Disgust filled his eyes as the pirate touched her.
'Where is my brother, you bastard?' she hissed,