Only With Your Love (29 page)

Justin tasted blood. He kept his head bent, deciding not to entertain Legare any more than necessary. Philippe was all right now. All Justin had to do was just stay alive until Aug reached him on the island and the attack began.

He heard Risk’s voice nearby. “…I should tell you,” Risk was saying.

“What is it?” Legare demanded.

“He claimed the woman might be hiding somewhere nearby. If ye choose, it won’t be difficult to sniff her out.”

Time seemed to stop. Slowly Justin raised his head and stared at Risk through a mist of hatred, realizing everything all at once. Risk had betrayed him. If he could no longer sail with Justin, he would choose to follow Legare rather than stand on his own legs. He’d tried to tell him before, and Justin hadn’t listened. “No,” Justin rasped. How
much of the plan had Risk told Legare? Aug…what about Aug…

Risk met Justin’s eyes without shame. “I would of followed ye the rest o’ me days, Griffin. I would of fought for ye, died for ye. Ye were the one who ended it.”

Legare smiled in satisfaction. “Find Madame Vallerand, then, and bring her along,” he said crisply. “Captain Griffin seems to have a taste for her company.”

Before Justin could make a sound, there was a crashing pain at the back of his head. He fell heavily to the ground. Dazed, he tried to roll to his side. It took a second blow to bring him down, and then everything went dark.

Celia could not see the action on the other side of the water. She stayed hidden and watched as Alexandre lifted Philippe onto a horse, swung up behind him, and rode away from Devil’s Pass. Max remained by the water, staring at the opposite shore. Risk did not return. After a few minutes had passed, Max turned with a curse and strode to his horse.

Celia thought about approaching Max. Surely he must be going back to the plantation now. It would be safer for her if she rode with him. He would be furious to discover she was there, and would probably give her a blistering lecture, but she knew that deep down he would have sympathy for her. Picking her way through the muddy thicket, she took her horse’s reins and began to lead it out of the woods. Max was about fifty yards ahead. She opened her mouth to call to him.

Suddenly a hand clapped over her mouth and pinched her nose shut. She tried to scream. She
struggled against a cruel grasp. Her lungs worked frantically, but she could draw in no air.

Jack Risk’s voice burned into her ear. “Ye’ve been his downfall every damn step o’ the way.”

She felt a moment of sickening dizziness, and then she fainted, plummeting into an endless chasm of darkness.

Lysette welcomed Alexandre and Philippe inside the house with a cry of gladness. She was like a small whirlwhind, embracing Philippe fiercely, asking countless questions without waiting for answers, checking him for injuries, giving instructions to the housemaids to begin heating water for a bath. Philippe declined to go upstairs to rest. “I want some decent food,” he said wearily, “and I want to stay awake for as long as possible, and try to make myself believe I am really here.”

Noeline rushed to bring a steaming bowl of gumbo and thick wedges of bread from the kitchen. Lysette dragged him to the cushioned settee in the parlor and hovered over him worriedly. Philippe seemed numb, not fully aware of what was happening around him. His stepmother was relieved to see that he had no serious injuries. But it worried her, the scarecrow-thinness of his limbs and the emptiness in eyes that had always been warm and smiling.

Taking his hands in hers, Lysette examined them and breathed a prayer of thankfulness that they were undamaged. It had been a particular worry of hers that the pirates might have injured Philippe in a way that would prevent him from resuming the medical practice he loved. Philippe’s long, thin fingers tightened over hers. There had always been an affinity between them.
In many ways they were very much alike, genial and good-natured, the peacemakers in a family of volatile personalities.

“Where is Celia?” Philippe asked.

It was the question Lysette had dreaded. “She is not here,” she said. She had discovered Celia’s absence only a short time ago, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“What?” Alexandre braced his hands on the back of the settee and leaned toward her. “Where the hell is she?” Alex demanded.

“I don’t know,” Lysette said, giving him a frankly worried glance. “She is not in the
garçonnière
and one of the horses is gone. Apparently she left without telling anyone where she was going.”

“You don’t think she tried to—” Alex began, and stopped as Lysette’s eyes flashed a warning. It would not be wise to upset Philippe with speculation.

“I am certain she will return soon,” Lysette said evenly.

Alexandre frowned. “I will go for Dr. Dassin,” he said. Lysette nodded to him, and he left with a purposeful stride.

Philippe’s face was drawn. “Is Celia in trouble?” he asked.

“Of course not…you are not to worry about anything,
comprends? Bien,
here is Noeline with some soup, and after you eat you will see Dr. Dassin and have a long rest.”

Philippe looked at her with the shadow of his old smile. “You almost make me believe everything will be all right,
Belle-mère.
”

“But it will,” she said, so reassuringly that she almost believed it herself.

“No. Justin is at Legare’s mercy,” Philippe said huskily. “He traded his life for mine.”

“Justin is very resourceful. And he has lived among men like Legare for many years. He knows how to take care of himself—and how to get what he wants.
Mon Dieu,
he managed to rescue Celia from the pirate island and bring her here safely.” She handed him the spoon. “Try some of the gumbo,” she urged, and he began to eat slowly. The spoon shook in his hand. Lysette wanted to take the utensil and feed him as if he were a child, but she did not offer, knowing he would rather do it himself.

“Alex said that Justin has been masquerading as me,” he said after the first few mouthfuls.

“Yes. We thought you were dead. When Justin was brought here wounded, we thought it was the best way to protect him.”

“Badly wounded?”

“
Oui.
At first we thought he might die. But Celia…” Lysette hesitated, wondering how much he should be told. “Celia nursed him back to health.”

Philippe put down his spoon. “And while he took my place she has been posing as his wife,” he said quietly.

Lysette nodded.

“He did not try to take advantage of her? Celia is an innocent. She would not understand someone like him, his dark side—”

“No, I believe she…understands him very well,” Lysette said uncomfortably.

“Really.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at Lysette in a puzzled way. “I would have thought someone like Celia would hate him, be frightened by him.”

“No, that was not the case. Your brother…relied on her.”

“Relied on her for what? Justin has always had contempt for soft, gentle creatures of her kind.”

“Justin has changed, Philippe. He has made peace with your father. I believe has has come to value many of the things he once discarded so lightly. His cavalier attitude and wildness seem to have been replaced by a new caring…and Celia has been—” She stopped and looked at him helplessly.

All at once Philippe understood. His blue eyes held a stricken look as he read her thoughts. “My God. You’re trying to tell me there is something between Justin and my wife. That is why she is gone now, isn’t it?” He closed his eyes. “No, don’t answer. Don’t tell me any more. Not right now.”

He seemed utterly lost and alone. Lysette wanted to comfort him, but she knew it was beyond her ability. “Philippe,” she said hesitantly, touching his sleeve, “shall I send for Briony?”

The name seemed to pierce through his numbness. “Briony,” he repeated gloomily. “She wouldn’t come if you did send for her. Aside from you, she’s the one person in the world I’ve never had to fear being hurt by. I should have worshipped the ground beneath her feet. And instead I hurt her.”

“Philippe, Briony understood why you had to choose someone else—”

“Yes, Briony understood,” he said bitterly. “In my vanity and self-importance I felt she wasn’t good enough for me. She wasn’t educated or refined, she wasn’t born a lady.” He focused on a distant memory, his lips suddenly touched with a smile. “She’ll never be able to speak a word of
French. I tried to teach her, and it was hopeless. If I had married her, everyone in New Orleans would have laughed and gossiped.”

“Perhaps for a little while,” Lysette conceded. “Would that have mattered?”

“I thought it would.” Philippe shook his head listlessly. “What I did to her was unforgivable. Now it is too late.”

“Is it?”

“There is no reparation I can offer her, nothing but shallow, useless apologies that she’ll only throw back in my—”

“Shall I send for her?” Lysette interrupted gently.

Philippe gripped her hand and stared into her hazel eyes. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Justin was awakened by the shock of cold water thrown on his face. Groaning faintly, he lifted his chin from his chest. His arms were fastened high above his head—it was useless to even try to tug at them. Gradually consciousness came to him. He had been beaten on the journey to Crow’s Island. He was fairly certain one of his newly-mended ribs had been refractured. His entire body ached.

“Open your eyes, Captain Griffin.” Dominic Legare stood in front of him with a feral smile. He smoked a thin cigar, exhaling through his narrow nostrils.

Justin discovered that his hands were fastened with iron manacles and attached to a hook on the ceiling. The chains had been pulled tight so that his heels just grazed the earthen floor. His shirt hung off him in tatters. He was somewhere underneath the fort on the island in a large cell that was sometimes used to hold unruly slaves. The room was one of many flanking a wide corridor
that gave access to other passageways and rooms in an underground labyrinth of wood, stone, and shell-studded caves.

A considerable crowd of Legare’s crew was packed inside the cell. They were lounging on crates, smoking, drinking, their expressions avid with enjoyment. Risk was there also, regarding Justin without emotion. Justin was filled with hatred and self-disgust. He’d been a naive fool. He’d never have believed Risk was capable of watching him be tortured. He wondered when Risk had decided to betray him. It must have been yesterday, when Risk had come to the island to find out if Philippe was alive. Legare would have used the opportunity to talk to him, promise him security and wealth, whatever had been necessary to make Risk change his allegiance.

Noticing the direction of Justin’s gaze, Legare seemed to read his thoughts. “It was quite easy to convince him to join me, Griffin. You disappoint me—I assumed you were more intelligent than to place your trust in a parasite. The world is full of little bloodsuckers like him. I fully expect that he’ll try to turn on me when I stop being of use to him. But unlike you, I’ll cut his legs out from under him before he has the chance.” He smiled at Risk as if anticipating that day.

Risk stared back at him and shifted uncomfortably, for once having no cocky replies.

Legare walked around Justin. “In spite of your surprising streak of naiveté, Griffin, I still must admit to admiring you. You’ve been a challenge. Few men can claim such a distinction. On the other hand, you killed André, the one man on earth I cared for. I’ll make you suffer unmercifully for that.”

“Your brother,” Justin said, “wasn’t worth a stinking heap of fish offal. And you—”

Legare sank his hard fist into the healed-over wound in his side and then backhanded him across the mouth, causing Justin to grunt and cough. “Enough about André,” Legare said coolly. “Let’s discuss a bit of information that Risk was not able to supply. Apparently you were wise enough not to confide everything to him.”

Justin had always found that Risk was most effective when given simple, straightforward tasks rather than being told the entire plan. It distracted Risk to have to worry about too many things at once. Now Justin was thankful he hadn’t told Risk about the naval force that was coming to attack the island. But there were ships in the harbor that were always ready to defend the island against the approach of hostile vessels. If they weren’t taken care of before the expedition arrived—

“I know about Aug and the brace of men he brought onto the island,” Legare continued. “Tell me when and how he smuggled them here.”

The implications of the question struck Justin like lightning. They hadn’t caught Aug and the men yet. Aug was still loose somewhere. He gave Legare a bloody-lipped jeer. “Still looking for them?” he asked. “How long have they evaded you? One day…two? They couldn’t have done that alone. They must have had help from someone. Maybe from some of your own men.”

Suddenly the chuckling and murmuring among the assemblage was silenced.

Legare looked at Justin contemplatively. He reached out and crushed the lit cigar against his chest. Justin’s body arched, and he hissed through his clenched teeth as the pain blazed
through his skin and needled every part of him. Sweat broke on his face, and the smell of his own scorched skin and hair was rank in his nostrils.

“Next it will be your eye,” Legare said calmly.

“Go to hell,” Justin gasped.

“But perhaps I’ll allow you to keep your eyes for a few minutes more. There is something I would like you to see.” He gestured toward Risk. “Mr. Risk, why don’t you go and fetch our lovely guest?”

Justin froze. He couldn’t mean Celia. Celia was safe at home, taking care of Philippe. They were bluffing. He watched Risk leave the cell. Then he was no longer aware of the others, even Legare. His whole being was suspended in anticipation, as if he were falling from a great height and waiting for the moment when he hit the ground.

An enormous roar of approval echoed throughout the cell as Risk brought in Celia’s writhing form. She struggled against Risk’s restraining arms and cried out as he twisted a handful of her hair in his fist and yanked roughly. The pirates pressed forward, a multitude of hands reaching out to her dress, her hair, but Legare gestured for them to fall back. They obeyed him quickly, grumbling and hooting. Celia’s glittering dark eyes met Justin’s, and she went still, although her slim body was trembling visibly.