Part 12 (1/2)
She stared at it silently. Finally, she said, ”I'd like to read it.”
He grinned. ”There, that wasn't so difficult. You may have your book back.” He extended it to her. At last, she gave him the smile he'd wanted as she reached for the book. Abruptly, he pulled it away. ”When you tell me your name.”
The look of surprise on her face quickly turned to anger. ”Keep your book.” She marched over to the trunk and slammed the lid shut. ”And take these with you too. I'll not be baited. I'll not tell you a thing. My personal affairs are personal.”
Dieu, if he was going to be at the receiving end of that amount of fire from her, he most certainly preferred it to be in bed.
He walked over to her, lifted her hand, and placed the book on her palm. ”I'm not going to take any of the books away. They are yours. Enjoy them.”
”Thank you,” she murmured and pulled the book to her bosom. How he envied the leather volume.
”You cannot blame me for trying to learn more about you.”
”Why not leave matters be?”
”I can't. I've never met a woman quite like you.”
”Please,” she scoffed.
”I find it most intriguing that you seem quite unaware of your own charms. It leaves me to wonder if it is genuine or merely part of your game. Any man would tell you that you look spectacular in that gown. You move about as though you were born into the upper circle of society, yet you show no interest in its trappings or in perhaps returning there. You leave me to my own imaginings. Sadly, I'm left to guess. Are you perhaps a princess from a faraway land, banished by your enemies to live out your days in the convent?” She looked away. He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face back to his. ”Maybe you are no mortal woman at all. Are you an angel in truth? You certainly have the face and voice of one.”
”Your suggestions are absurd.”
”Then tell me the truth, chere.”
”No.”
”Because you cannot or because you will not?”
”I will not.”
”Then I will have to try harder. However, make no mistake. I will learn your secrets. Do you think a lamb can outwit a fox?”
She removed his hand from her face. ”I may be unfamiliar with foxes, but I do know that sheep bite.”
He burst out laughing. ”I'll consider myself duly warned.” He crossed his arms over his chest, c.o.c.ked his head, and studied her for a moment. ”Tell me, doesn't it fatigue you? Keeping yourself closed off the way you do? Not allowing anyone to get close enough to truly know you? Not even your best friend?”
”You spoke to Gabriella about me?”
”Yes. Do you keep the truth from her because you feel she cannot be trusted?”
”No. I trust Gabriella.”
”No, you don't. You don't trust anyone. You keep everyone at a distance. You have forgotten how to live, chere. You're merely existing. And there is nothing worse than to live your life only half alive.” He'd known it growing up. The lower cla.s.s struggled to exist. They never really lived.
He couldn't tell if his words. .h.i.t the mark. The wall was erected so tall and solid. She merely held his gaze for a moment before she said, ”What about you, Simon? Do you live? Are you whom I should emulate in my life?”
Simon walked calmly to the door despite the visceral surge of bitterness that welled inside him-his usual reaction to any subject connected to the choices he'd made in his naval career and with Fouquet.
”Don't concern yourself with my life. You should contemplate your own. Look at those around you and see how they strive to improve theirs, Angelica. They want so much more out of life, whereas you want so much less.”
He opened the door and walked out.
Standing on deck, Simon focused his gaze on the Spanish s.h.i.+ps on the horizon. Recklessly, he toyed with the thought of defying Fouquet's demands for more riches, to pull back and let the s.h.i.+ps pa.s.s-to h.e.l.l with Fouquet and his hold on them-but then Thomas came to mind, decimating his insurgent thoughts.
”Hold her steady,” Simon ordered his commander.
”Yes, Captain.”
As always, the information gathered by Thomas had been reliable. After two weeks at sea, La Estella Blanco was in view-as were the two galleons Thomas had advised would be escorting her for protection.
The Spanish s.h.i.+p wasn't part of the biannual convoys arriving from New Spain. La Estella Blanco was an additional treasure s.h.i.+p. Thomas had been shrewd enough to learn its secret date of arrival, privy to only a small circle of high-ranking, trusted individuals. There was the very real possibility that all three s.h.i.+ps were laden with silver. In short, this was a large capture before them.
With Simon's s.h.i.+ps outnumbering theirs six to three, he felt confident of a victory.
More wealth for Fouquet. Just the thought tortured his jaundiced soul. How many prizes had he captured for the Crown already?
Too many.
Too many good men under his command had perished. Too vivid were his memories of their dying screams rising from their mutilated bodies, limbs shot away by cannons, bodies torn open by swords or impaled by the large splinters of wood torn off from the s.h.i.+p's masts by the cannon blasts. Too many bodies lay within the dark cold ocean depths.
For what? A country that was dying-decay prevalent in each of its social cla.s.ses? For a king who spent his time on vice rather than on his kingdom and its people?
Simon's men knew the risks involved with each potential capture, yet they risked everything because they believed in him. If they only knew that he didn't believe in himself anymore. His self-confidence had been, until recently, steadfast in every challenge he encountered. Unfaltering in every endeavor he undertook. Never in his entire adult life had he vacillated, even for an instant, from his intended target.
Or from his dream of promotion to the upper cla.s.s and a respected officer's commission in the realm's official navy-rather than the mere supplement he and his s.h.i.+ps were now.
Abandoning that dream was a small price to pay for his involvement with Fouquet.
For the part Simon had played in the suffering and deaths that had occurred.
What he was forced to do now felt so wrong. This valuable capture would only aid in Fouquet's success as Superintendent of Finance, giving him more power and prestige.
Simon clenched his teeth to keep from growling out loud.
The deck was prepared for battle.
The men were in place.
The cannons were ready. They awaited his order to begin firing.
The usual stillness settled on them. The last moments of serenity before the chaos.
During the dwindling minutes of peace, before the blood and gore began, his mind drifted to Angelica. Normally, he didn't permit women on board his s.h.i.+ps when the business of s.h.i.+p battles and capture were at hand. However, with La Estella Blanco and its escort outnumbered two to one, he knew there was very little risk to them. La Estella Blanco would go down.