Part 11 (1/2)

On a cold autumn night, her stepfather had destroyed her world and her future. She thought she'd buried her past and would never have to deal with it again. But a French privateer with seductive blue eyes and a magic touch had entered her life and effortlessly shaken the foundations of her carefully guarded world, more than he could ever know.

Chapter Nine.

”Good morning, mademoiselle, I'm sorry this is so late. You must be famished,” Suzette apologized cheerfully as she carried in the morning meal. Pretty, blonde, and nineteen, she was friendly and broke the monotony of Angelica's solitude each time she brought her food.

Angelica shook her head. ”It's all right. I'm not that hungry.”

Suzette set her tray down on the table in front of Angelica. ”Are you all right, mademoiselle?”

No, she was not all right. Thoughts of Simon had kept her up most of the night. She'd spent hours trying to vanquish the memory of their amorous encounter.

Before she could offer a polite response, there was a knock at the door. Suzette opened it. Two large men entered, carrying a wooden trunk.

”Place it near her bed,” Suzette told them.

They mutely obeyed and left.

Angelica stood. A trunk overflowing with dresses, shoes, and undergarments had been delivered to her cabin yesterday. The last thing she needed was more of the same. ”What is this?”

Suzette smiled. ”This trunk was supposed to be brought to your cabin with the trunk of dresses.” She pulled back the lid, revealing the incredible contents. ”They are from the captain. They're books, mademoiselle.”

Angelica approached, stunned. There were so many books. The trunk was completely full. ”They're all for...me?” she asked, incredulous.

”Yes. All the books are yours.”

Her heart danced.

She moved closer. On the top, she noticed a familiar brown leather volume, realizing that it was the very book she'd pulled from the shelf in the library the night she and Simon had dined together. The book of sonnets.

He'd remembered?

She couldn't stop herself from picking it up, enjoying the feel of it in her hands, yearning to read it.

”They're a gift, mademoiselle. The captain hopes they will help combat the tedium.”

She was speechless.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been offered a gift as wonderful as this. He had thought of her. He'd given her books. The book of love sonnets.

He is also a man who is forcing you to go with him on a voyage to the West Indies and remain there for an indefinite amount of time, she forced herself to remember, needing to steel her resolve and to settle the fluttering inside her stomach. It was dangerous to entertain soft feelings where he was concerned.

Her past limited what she could have in the future. Her secrets were dark and layered and best kept confined to the hole they'd made in her heart. She had to resist the strength of his appeal, and return to the convent where the events of years ago did not penetrate its stone walls.

Realizing Suzette was watching her, Angelica reluctantly placed the book back in the trunk.

”Please offer my thanks to...the captain.” Coward. You haven't the courage to face him and thank him in person. After what had happened yesterday, she'd no idea how she would face him again.

”Of course, mademoiselle. Come, eat. Marta asked me to bring you plenty of the cheese she says you're fond of.” Angelica returned to the table and sat down. ”She likes you.” Suzette placed the bread before her. ”I think the captain likes you too.”

Angelica's face warmed. ”I'm sure you're mistaken,” she quickly denied, not in the least bit comfortable with this subject.

”It's not a bad thing. The captain is quite handsome.”

She'd have to be completely blind not to have noticed that.

Suzette cut her a piece of cheese. ”On our island, Marguerite, everyone has great affection for him and holds the captain in high esteem. He's brought many families to Marguerite, at first only the crewmen's families, then later, anyone who was in dire straits. He gave them employ in the fields. He gave us an opportunity to survive rather than to die in France.”

She had no idea he'd impacted so many lives.

”I think you will like the island very much. It has all the comforts of France without the starvation or any terrible Aristos. In the village where I grew up, we never even had a schoolmaster. Yet on the island, we have a school, thanks to the captain.”

”A school?” she marveled. He'd never said a word.

”Yes. The captain was taught to read and write when he was young, and he wishes it for others.”

A knot formed in her throat. She was discovering a side of him she'd never known, and yet somehow this same man had earned himself the name the Black Demon. He was up to something. Something that required extreme precautions. Just how sinister, she didn't know. Nor seemingly did Suzette and Marta, for she'd asked for the details of Simon's plans. Yet, he was also a man whose touch could inflame her senses. He was perplexing.

He is exciting, whispered her heart.

Pouring a goblet of wine for Angelica, Suzette added, ”I only wish I had learned to read.”

Angelica leaped at the opportunity. ”If you wish to learn, I could teach you.” The voyage was long, and spending time teaching Suzette would be a pleasant way to fill the hours and feel useful.

”Really, mademoiselle?”

”Yes, of course; but you must call me Angelica.”

”Oh, how wonderful, Angelica! In turn, perhaps I can make you some more dresses. There are some fine fabrics...o...b..ard. The captain has given his permission to use them. I'm quite good with a needle. I can make a dress fit for an Aristo!”

The last thing Angelica wanted was more dresses suitable for the upper cla.s.s. However, Suzette's face shone with the prospect of sewing them for her, and she didn't have the heart to deny her.

”That sounds lovely.” She smiled.

Sweet Suzette looked ecstatic. ”Perhaps I can return later this afternoon for my first lesson?”

”Yes. Absolutely.”

Still smiling, Suzette walked to the door. ”Oh, I almost forgot. The rule is that women are not permitted on deck unless permission is granted. In fact, we're to restrict ourselves to our sleeping quarters and the galley.”

That suited her just fine. She preferred to avoid Simon for the time being.

The moment Suzette left her cabin, Angelica moved to the trunk of books and pulled out the book of love sonnets.

Walking back to the table with it, she was still amazed by his unexpected gesture and the things she'd learned about this complex man.

The urge to devour the contents of the volume was oh so compelling. Perhaps she shouldn't. What was the point of reading romantic poetry? She placed the book on the table.