Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (4 page)

Or
die
trying.
She had no need to add the words.

Daniel understood loyalty to family. He would give his own life for his siblings. Of course, his was a worthless life, so it would hardly be a sacrifice.

She sighed. “Have you reconsidered allowing our passage, Captain? Please, I must have an answer.”

A whiff of her orange blossom perfume transported him to another time. Cecily had been laughing that day, such a rare sound from her. The Caribbean breeze had whipped off her bonnet, and he’d chased it into the surf. When she’d learned of his plans to take her to England, he’d never heard her laugh again.

Madame Lavigne waited for his answer, appearing to hold her breath. Odd that he didn’t feel tormented by his guilt with her near. Something about the widow eased his conscience and offered him a momentary reprieve. For a man who had known little peace for five years, the temptation was strong to keep her with him—even on ship.

Daniel rubbed his forehead. Could he allow her to risk her life so he might have comfort?

“Please, monsieur. Upon my honor, I will pay whatever price you deem necessary.”

“Do you promise you’re in no trouble? My ship cannot be detained for harboring a fugitive.”

“I am no fugitive.” The slight tremor in her hands softened his demeanor. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this, but there was no telling what scrape she might find herself in next if he refused his assistance.

“Very well, madame. You have my pledge to carry you to England. Arrive just after sunrise.”

“Oh, monsieur.” She swept forward and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “
Merci
.”

Instinctively, he folded her into his arms. She sagged against him. Her softness and sweet scent filled him with longing.

His mistress had been right about one thing earlier. Nights on the
Cecily
became lonely after a time. How many lonesome nights had Madame Lavigne suffered since losing her husband?

His mouth grazed her ear. “Perhaps we may find comfort in one another, my dear. I can be a sensitive lover when the situation calls for it.”

She drew back with a soft gasp. “You want me to be your…
lover
?” This last word was whispered.

Her surprise pleased him. She was a widow and couldn’t be ignorant to the ways of men and women, but she was not wanton either.

“The journey would be more pleasant for both of us, I believe. Would you be amenable to sharing my bed on occasion?”

She stood tall, her spine rigid. “If this is your requirement, I’m in no position to argue, am I?”

She darted into her room and closed the door before he could respond.

“My
requirement
?” Well hell. They’d have to clear up that little misunderstanding as soon as possible. He liked his widows willing or not at all.

Four

Lisette’s head spun as she slipped into the room she shared with Serafine and Rafe.
Sweet
Mary.
Had she just entered into an agreement with Captain Hillary to be his companion in exchange for passage? She paused inside the door, wavering between running after him to deliver a proper set-down for his lewd suggestion now or waiting until morning.

Serafine bolted from her seat beside the bed. “Where have you been? I’ve been fretting for the last half hour.”

Lisette pulled the pins from her hat as she swept to the dry sink to avoid meeting her cousin’s gaze. “I was engaged in negotiations with Captain Hillary.”

“Didn’t Monsieur Baptiste take care of everything?”

Lisette tossed the hat beside the washbasin then filled the bowl with water. “Apparently there were some final details he didn’t settle with the captain. We are to arrive at the docks at dawn.”

“Early is better.” Serafine’s hushed voice was filled with relief. “Now if we can only stay hidden from Reynaud.”

Lisette grimaced before scooping water with her hands and splashing it over her heated face. Patting her skin dry with a towel, she contemplated how much she should reveal to Serafine about her dealings with the captain. “There is a chance my presence in the tavern did not go unnoticed.”

“Indeed?” Serafine fanned her face, her nutmeg skin glistening from the sticky heat.

“It’s nothing.” Lisette carried a wet cloth to her cousin.

“
Merci
.” Serafine wiped away the perspiration then held the cloth against her neck.

Lisette and Serafine shared little in the way of family resemblance, aside from their green eyes, despite their mothers being sisters. Serafine had inherited the high cheekbones and regal bearing of their West Indies ancestors, leaving Lisette feeling less intriguing with her rounded features and
café au lait
complexion.

“I suggest we sleep while we are able,” Lisette said.

Serafine crossed to the door and turned the lock, which Lisette had neglected to do in her haste to avoid questions about Captain Hillary. “I shall sleep with one eye and ear open,” Serafine said.

“As will I. Together we provide a set of both.” That summed up their relationship. They were a pair, and had been since Serafine had come to live at Passebon House after Rafe’s birth.

They crawled into the small bed with Rafe cradled between them, under the guise of catching rest. Lisette lay in the dark a long time, assessing every creak and bump in the inn. All she could think on was her agreement with Captain Hillary, and whether she could retract her promise without jeopardizing their passage. When she did succumb to the land of dreams, images of Reynaud’s rage-filled face woke her with a start.

She abandoned all pretenses of sleep when the robins outside began their wake-up chorus. She tried to memorize the sound of their carefree warbling to recall in the days to come, heaviness settling over her heart. She suffered under no delusions they would ever see Passebon House or New Orleans again. Serafine’s measured breaths contrasted with Rafe’s soft snores, alerting Lisette that she too was unable to sleep.

“Will we be safe with Captain Hillary?” Lisette whispered into the darkness.

“My readings are never wrong,
ma
chère
. We’ll live through the journey and survive in London. But you must do exactly as I tell you.”

Lisette clutched the thin sheet and suppressed a sigh. Perhaps Serafine placed too much faith in her readings. She hadn’t seen the captain nor did she know of his price to carry them to London.

Climbing from bed, Lisette lit a candle. Rafe didn’t stir. He looked so peaceful in sleep, like any other little boy. Sometimes her love for him filled her so full, it had to escape through tears or rip her apart. She brushed the wetness from her cheeks and turned away. “I’ll seek out nourishment.”

No one was below stairs save the innkeeper, but he promised to send someone with food and fresh water at once. A while later, the young woman from the previous night arrived with bowls of rice, milk, and sugar. Her sleep-swollen eyes attested to the fact she had been abed still. Lisette paid her well then secured the door behind her.

While Serafine roused Rafe from sleep and helped him change his clothes, Lisette freshened up in the washbasin and donned her black mourning gown again.

Serafine wrinkled her nose. “Why are you wearing that old rag?”

“I’m afraid the captain made certain assumptions based on my attire last night. He believes I’m a widow.”

“Indeed? And why didn’t you correct his mistake?”

“It seemed easier than trying to explain Reynaud.”

She had come to a decision while below stairs. Rafe must be kept safe, and that meant escaping New Orleans before Reynaud found them. Since her body seemed her only valuable asset with which to barter with Captain Hillary, she couldn’t assume the risk of revealing the truth until they had traveled too far to turn back. She only hoped he would forgive her for deceiving him once she explained his mistake and renegotiated their terms.

***

Daniel stared at the navigational charts and ship’s log spread on his desk. He had been at his task for over an hour, but he’d accomplished little. His mind kept drifting to the beautiful Madame Lavigne.

The click of the great cabin door alerted him to the presence of an interloper. Only one person would dare to enter his quarters without knocking. His younger brother, Jake, stormed through his office door and slammed it.

Daniel smirked. Jake had a temper when riled, and usually Daniel was the one to goad him, but not today. Jake’s fiancée was putting him through his paces, teasing him shamelessly. Pity Daniel’s brother didn’t know of the arrangements Amelia had made for their wedding on ship that evening, but she wished to surprise him. No question Jake would be pleased, and less surly if everyone was lucky.

“Where’s your better half?” Daniel asked.

Jake issued a low growl as he snatched the cork from Daniel’s bottle of rum sitting on the edge of his desk. “Greeting the passengers.”

He didn’t comment on his brother’s early morning indulgence. Jake likely needed something to take the edge off.

He poured a healthy dose of alcohol into a tumbler and sipped, studying Daniel over the rim of the glass. “You’ve granted a lady and her child passage on the
Cecily
?”

“She’s here?”

“If you refer to a female dressed in all black and a raven-haired slip of a boy at her side, then yes, they’ve arrived.”

Madame Lavigne was earlier than Daniel had expected. Never had he met a punctual woman.

He shoved from the table and hurried to the door. “I should see the passengers to their quarters.”

Jake grumbled a reply.

Daniel spied the lady at once engaged in conversation with Amelia on the main deck. His future sister-in-law was chattering nonstop and gesturing with her hands. Obviously, she had missed the company of other women on the journey to New Orleans, but based on Madame Lavigne’s wary expression, Amelia might continue to suffer a lack of female companionship. Not so for Daniel. His smile grew wider.

A frail lad held the lady’s hand, watching the goings-on around them with rounded eyes. When the boy moved from her side and wandered toward the railing, a willowy young woman dressed in white stepped from behind a stack of crates and followed.

Daniel’s gut lurched. Madame Lavigne had mentioned nothing about traveling with another
lady
. His concerns were now tripled with three women to see safely across the sea. Not to mention a boy who could be swept away by a gust of wind.

What had Daniel been thinking last night to agree to such foolishness? He
hadn’t
been thinking, and that was where his troubles lay. Madame Lavigne had a way of muddling his mind.

He headed down the steps to greet his new passengers. Madame Lavigne glanced in his direction as he approached, the corners of her pink lips curving up when she spotted him. He faltered in his step, an odd tightness in his chest making it difficult to breathe.

“Captain Hillary, I cannot thank you enough. How long does it usually take to clear the river? Will we reach the sea before nightfall?”

“You never mentioned you’re traveling with another lady.” His tone was sharper than he’d intended.

“Oh?” Wariness replaced her friendly expression. A breeze lifted the veil of her hat, revealing her delicate features and the elegant slant of her brows. Her golden-brown skin shimmered in the morning sunlight and an insane urge to caress her rounded cheek hit him with the force of a gale wind. Perspiration dampened his shirt as his heart raced.

“I am sorry, monsieur.” Her lilting voice was too pleasing to his ear, increasing his agitation. “I didn’t think the information to be of great importance given you had already agreed to allow one lady passage.”

Devil
take
it.
Females didn’t affect him this way. He didn’t care for it one bit.

“I’ll decide what’s important,” he snapped.

“Daniel.” Amelia’s scandalized response did nothing to stall his attack.

He jabbed a finger toward the widow. “Withhold any further information from me, and I’ll toss you off my ship in a heartbeat. Do I make myself clear?”

All three women gawked at him. Madame Lavigne’s cheeks flushed with color, but she nodded. “Of course, Captain. I mentioned I’m traveling with my family.”

Amelia patted his arm. “Mademoiselle Serafine Vistoire is a first cousin, Daniel. She and Madame Lavigne are like sisters.”

The graceful Mademoiselle Vistoire stood a foot taller than her companion, and her features seemed severe in contrast to the widow’s softness. Her eyes, however, blazed with the same green intensity he’d seen in Madame Lavigne’s gaze last night, verifying their claim to kinship.

“And I will not hold my tongue while you upbraid my dear Lisette.” Mademoiselle Vistoire spoke with a similar Creole accent.