Undone (20 page)

Sliding his arms away from her, he leaned his elbows on his thighs and folded his hands. Unable to stop herself, she cupped his face and kissed him, slowly, softly. He returned her kiss but did not reach for her.

Make love…
Those words flitted through her mind. From his lips, they held such appeal. Her heart cried out to him, welling with the desire to tell him all, to connect with him on a deeper level.

She silenced the foolish thing. He wouldn’t offer to make love to her if he knew the truth about her. How could anyone know about the soiling and not feel disgust. He could never see her as a whole woman the way he did now. How could anyone?

She refused to risk lessening herself in his eyes that way. Her feelings for him ran too deep.

Even though he’d been angry with her, he still wanted her. Maybe her happiness would have to be limited to his touch if not his heart. Would that be so bad? Would it be enough?

She broke the kiss. “Simon, if you want to… If you are interested…”

“Yes, I want to. Yes, I am interested. Are you prepared to reveal yourself? Are you going to tell me who you are?”

Her hands fell away from his face. “Why is this so important to you?”

He sighed and shook his head. “It just is,
mon ange
. It’s best you return to the celebration. You will be missed soon.”

It was the second time he’d called her
my angel
, and he’d said it so softly, it made her heart ache. “What about you?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “After watching you come, I’m going to need a few minutes.” His smile faded. “I want you to come to me, Angelica. I want you, but I’m going to need to know who you are. The door is open and the invitation has been extended. You decide if you are going to accept it or decline it.”

*****

Two days later, Simon sat in his library. She hadn’t come to him,
still
. For two nights he’d waited, expectant, hopeful. Nothing.
Merde
. Enough. He had work to do.

He picked up the drawings for the new sugar mill and reviewed them. While some of the islands in the West Indies were importing slaves from Africa to work on the cane estates, he wanted nothing to do with slavery. Bringing peasants from France and providing them with shelter and fair wages not only fostered self-dignity but also loyalty and a desire to work and remain.

Since his return, he’d made a thorough inspection of the island’s structures. Walls and lookout towers that protected the island from invaders needed attention. There were also construction plans he had in mind that would require further meetings and planning with his architect, Xavier.

He’d hoped by keeping himself occupied, it would take his mind off Angelica. It had not.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he bid.

Jules entered, sporting his usual smile, and closed the door.

“You brought the ledgers,” Simon stated, eyeing them in Jules’s hand.

“Good morning to you too.” Jules handed them to Simon and seated himself comfortably on the opposite side of the desk. “No need to ask how you are. Tell me, what of the beautiful Angelica? How is she?”

Simon purposely engrossed himself in the ledgers before responding, “How would I know?”

“She lives in your home. By the way, is this going to be a permanent arrangement?”

Without looking up from the ledgers, Simon stated, “You can cease your grinning, Jules. I will find a place for her. Until then, she’s fine staying where she is.” He didn’t add that it was killing him to have her there every night.

He was responsible for her, and Domenico wanted his bride all to himself. Simon wasn’t about to place Angelica in the shared accommodations where the field workers lived. The other islanders had their own homes. In essence, there was nowhere else for her to go.

There is my bed…

“Ah, such a sacrifice,” Jules said with laughter in his voice.

Simon frowned.

“Come now,” his friend said, chuckling. “There isn’t a soul on this island who doesn’t believe you’ve enjoyed her favors, innocent or not. She was on board your ship for weeks and now is under your roof. She is far too lovely not to tempt any man, much less a man with your reputation.”

“I don’t give a damn what people think. Have we become so lax here that everyone has time to sit around and speculate about whom I bed?”

“You are a favorite subject of interest here. And you avoid discussing this woman at every turn.”

Simon sighed. “
Merde
, Jules. What do you wish to hear?”

He sat back. “For starters, every detail.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

With mirth in his eyes, Jules rose. “Fine. Have it your way. Don’t forget today is the first of the month.”

Simon groaned. “I’d completely forgotten.”

“I have not. This is one duty I’m more than happy to relinquish to you—mediating disputes between the islanders. I swear, if I had to settle one more dispute regarding chickens, I would drown myself in the sea. All parties concerned will be in attendance in the village square this afternoon at two.”

“How many items are on the list to be settled?”

“Thus far, six. It would seem they are eager for your good judgment to settle their differences.”

Simon sighed. “How many are about chickens?”

“No doubt all.”

“You will be there?”

Jules smiled broadly. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss your decisive judgment on the fate of our poultry for anything in the world.”

*****

“I’m sorry, Angelica. This is all my fault,” Gabriella said, breaking the silence on the carriage ride back home. “I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with the old priest. I didn’t think Père Crotteau would object so strongly to you singing your mother’s song inside the church when no one was around. For Heaven’s sake, even horrible Madre Paola would allow it from time to time.” Gabriella patted her hand. “But don’t worry. Domenico will be there in the village square. I will explain everything. All will be well,” she assured.

She wasn’t sorry she’d sung. They’d stopped briefly to light a candle for their dear Madre Caterina while the church was empty, and at Gabriella’s prompting, Angelica had sung Madre’s favorite song. One Angelica’s mother had taught her. The old priest flew into a fit and had told her he was going to report her this afternoon at the village square, where trials and disputes were heard. Wagging a gnarled finger at her, he’d warned her to be there to receive whatever punishment her disrespect warranted. True, the song she’d sung in church wasn’t religious but a lovely love song instead.

It gave her great comfort to sing it again. She hadn’t done so since that night in the chapel with Madre Paola. And Simon.

The man who had inspired her to take risks, to reach for happiness.

This final obstacle to putting her past behind her and revealing her stepfather’s sick act was proving to be insurmountable.

She was about to respond to Gabriella when something caught her eye just past Gabriella’s shoulder. “Gabriella, is that not the school?”

Gabriella turned and gasped. “That is André Grignon, the schoolmaster. He is
whipping
that child!”

Standing outside the schoolhouse, the schoolmaster viciously lashed a small boy with a switch across his back as the child wailed in agony.

“Stop this carriage!” Angelica shouted to the driver and jumped down the moment it came to an abrupt halt. She ran and snatched the boy to her. Pushing the sobbing child behind her, she turned to confront the schoolmaster, fury burning through her veins.

“What do you think you are doing?” She shook with outrage.

“Stand aside,” the tall, thin man ordered. “I discipline the children as I see fit.”

“No! This is not discipline! This is brutality. What could he possibly have done to deserve a beating of this magnitude?”

The schoolmaster snorted. “I do not answer to
you
.”

“I’m taking him home.” She turned to the boy when Grignon grabbed her arm. Instinctively, she swung around and struck him with an open palm across his face. “Don’t touch me! I am not one of these helpless children you enjoy mistreating.”

Angelica ignored the man as he held his cheek, stunned. She gently picked up the sobbing boy and briskly carried him to the carriage, Gabriella rushing alongside her.

In short order, they found themselves standing in the Moutier home, having learned en route from the young boy, Tristan, that his mother worked in the Moutier’s household.

Sabine stepped out into the foyer, wearing a welcoming smile.

Her smile died the instant she saw the crying boy in Angelica’s arms and his blood-soaked shirt. Sabine rushed forward, gently lifted the shirt, and saw the open cuts slashed across his back.

“My God, what happened?”

“Grignon did this to him,” Angelica explained, still livid.

“Brute!” Sabine’s single word was rife with disgust. Calling to a male servant, she ordered him to carry the child upstairs.

“This treatment of children cannot be tolerated,” Angelica said.

“Oh, I quite agree!” Sabine looked just as enraged. “First, I must inform Claire about what happened to her son. Then we shall get to the bottom of this. If this is the first time Grignon has done this to a child, it is one time too many. Today is the day disputes are heard in the village square. We’ll attend and advise Simon of the schoolmaster’s practices. I don’t believe Simon or Jules had any idea that Grignon was capable of this!”

Angelica glanced at Gabriella and cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I already have a matter before Simon today. This one involving the schoolmaster will make
two
.”

Chapter Fourteen

Simon sat at a long table in the village square with Jules, Domenico, and Armand. A large crowd had assembled before them. As Domenico called out each item from the list, the concerned parties stepped forward before Simon and took turns arguing the merits of their dispute against the opposing individual.

Simon tried to render judgments that were fair and would set boundaries of conduct for all. By the sixth dispute, he was hard-pressed to stay focused.
Merde
. This was tedious in the extreme. Jules hadn’t jested when he’d told him these were mostly about chickens.

Armand diligently recorded every dispute and resolution.

“That was the last one, was it not?” Simon inquired, anxious to put an end to the tiresome task.

Domenico shook his head. “No, I’m afraid. There is one more that was added at the last minute.”

Simon sighed. “Domenico, tell me it isn’t over any more livestock.”

“No, definitely not livestock…”

“I am next, am I not?” Père Crotteau stepped out of the crowd to the middle of the square before the table of four.

“Yes, you are. Proceed,” Domenico ordered.

“I have a very serious matter to put before you, Captain. A matter of grievous importance. A conduct that cannot, must not, be tolerated. There is an individual amongst us who has committed a crime against the Church.” Gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd.

“
Dieu
.” Simon groaned to himself. This was the last thing he was in the mood to deal with. Could this day get any worse?

He rubbed his tired eyes with his finger and thumb. “Who is this individual?” His voice was flat. “And what is the crime?”

“A woman, Captain. She entered the church and attempted to desecrate the holy house with a sacrilegious act.” Cries of astonishment rose anew from the spectators.

With a heavy sigh, Simon asked, “Where is this woman? What is her name?” The prolonging of this monotony irked him.

“Here,” a voice called out from the back of the crowd. With another wave of murmurs, necks craned and turned, followed by a collective gasp as Angelica finally broke through the mass to enter the center of the square.

Simon swore under his breath.

Jules leaned into him. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.” He grinned.

Domenico poorly suppressed a chuckle.

Simon ignored his friends as he watched Angelica approach and stop beside the old priest. From the top of her glossy brown curls down to the simple cut of her pale yellow gown, she looked stunning. She fixed him with her full attention, her hands folded in front of her, her chin raised.

“I’m the one Père Crotteau accuses.”

His insides twisted with a mixture of desire, longing, and vexation. Did she have to cause him grief
all
of the time?

“What have you to say regarding this charge against you?” he demanded. What he really wanted to ask her was,
Where have you been the last two nights?
She was the only woman who’d ever kept him waiting. She was the only woman he’d ever waited for.

“The charge is absurd. I was with her, and I convinced her to do it,” Gabriella called out as she stepped into the center and stopped beside her friend. Another round of gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd. “If there is to be a punishment, then it is for me as well!”

“Gabriella!” Domenico exclaimed, no longer sharing Jules’s amusement at the scene before them.

“I have no objection to having both women punished,” the priest magnanimously offered.

“What did she do?” Simon asked.

“She entered the Holy Church today and she—
sang
,” Père Crotteau announced. “And it was
not
a Psalm,” he was quick to add.

Simon briefly closed his eyes and held back the expletives bellowing in his head as murmurs rippled through the mass once again. His exasperation made him feel suddenly weary.

Armand leaned toward the three other men at the table. “Did the priest say, ‘
sang not a Psalm’
?”

“Yes,” Jules confirmed, still smiling. “That is what he said.”

This was an area Simon wasn’t comfortable with, for he lacked the devotion some had. Yet he didn’t want to appear unconcerned.

He couldn’t believe he was about to settle a religious dispute, of all things.

“Captain,” the priest continued. “The sanctity of the church must be maintained. I won’t tolerate anything but pious devotion within its walls.”