A Pirate's Love (21 page)

T
he house was pleasantly cool throughout the morning, and only the persistent beating of the afternoon sun warmed the thick white stone walls. Bettina walked slowly down the stairs one afternoon, a month and a half after Tristan left, wearing a comfortable, sleeveless dress of yellow cotton and carrying a large towel over one arm.

In France, Bettina had worn only the most fashionable clothes, though she detested doing so. She thought clothes should be becoming but also be comfortable to wear, but André had never allowed her to dress in such simple garments. But on this tropical island, Bettina gave up the two petticoats and the extra bodice and skirt that were always revealed under the outer dress. She simply connected the skirt and bodice of her dresses, instead of leaving them slashed in front. One shift sufficed for modesty, and she could do without the large lace collars and the slashed and puffed sleeves.

She had even decided in the beginning not to bunch up her skirts for the extra width it added to her hips. Let Tristan stare at her slim hips long enough, and he might turn to a more rounded shape.
That had been her hope, but Tristan didn't seem to mind that she wasn't well rounded.

Bettina surveyed the large dining hall with a smile. The brightly colored tapestry that Joco had produced from the cellar now hung over the fireplace, and she had made white curtains for the few windows. The windows were too small and too high to allow much light into the room, and she decided that they needed enlarging, but she would have to wait and discuss that with Tristan. Five thickly stuffed chairs in light colors had been added about the room, and Joco was presently out back building a sofa.

Luckily, Tristan had never disposed of the booty from the last captured Spanish ship, and Joco had been able to find furniture and materials to improve every room in the house.

The booty was kept in the cellar, and none of the women were allowed to go down, but had to summon one of the men if they needed something. Bettina only noticed after Tristan left that the room was kept locked at all times. Joco assured her that nothing mysterious was in the cellar; just captured goods, odds and ends, and a supply of food. But Bettina thought it strange that Tristan had been able to produce a pair of shoes for her that just happened to be her size, and a pair for her mother.

Bettina had spent the morning in her room with Maloma. They had become friends, and since Maloma was also pregnant, they had much in common. They were making little quilts for the infants, but although Bettina enjoyed the entire morning spent sewing and idly chatting, she still couldn't keep Tristan completely from her thoughts.

A month ago, Maloma began to swell with the
child she carried. She would give birth only two weeks before Bettina, but Bettina's figure remained as slim as ever.

Bettina didn't doubt that she was pregnant, but she had hoped she would lose her trim shape quickly. She wanted to be enormously big before Tristan returned to the island, so that he would have to look elsewhere to satisfy his lust.

Tristan had left angrily, taking only half the men with him. He hadn't even told Bettina good-bye, but had left the same day they argued so fiercely. But she didn't miss him, she told herself continually. She didn't know when he would return, but she hoped it wouldn't be for a long, long time—in fact, never.

Bettina went by the kitchen area and lingered there a moment, smelling the aroma of fresh bread baking. Then she left through the back door and stepped her way around the lumber in the yard. She stopped by a stocky young man with curly blond hair who was hammering away at the frame of the new sofa. She smiled approvingly at Joco when he looked up at her.

“You have a talent for carpentry, Joco,” Bettina said, surveying his work. “Has this ever been your trade?”

“I'm ship's carpenter,
mam'selle
. I like to work with wood.”

“How long have you been with
Capitaine
Tristan?”

“Ever since he bought the
Spirited Lady
. Never saw no reason to want to sail on any other ship. The cap'n treats his crew squarely. But now that I've got a wife and two children, I've been thinkin' of givin' up the sea.”

“So you intend to settle down?” Bettina asked. So
there were honorable men among Tristan's crew, she thought.

“I'll be givin' up the sea, all right, now that my two sons are old enough to need a father. I was gonna ask Cap'n Tristan if I could settle here. I've got a little hut on the north shore that I can improve, and this island is just right for raisin' a family.”

“I suppose it is,” Bettina said, glancing about at all the tropical beauty surrounding her. “Well, good day, Joco.”

Bettina left him and walked across the back lawn to the forest. She was going to a secret place she had found one day when she went exploring by herself. She went there often, for in that secluded area, Bettina could make believe that this island was her home, that the past months were only a dream, and that she had never met a man called Tristan. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on pleasant things, Tristan always found his way into her thoughts.

It was spring, and the island was twice as beautiful as when Bettina had first come. The sky was clear, leaving the blazing sun no place to hide, and the towering mountain stood alone, without the swirling mist that usually clung to it.

Bettina saw Thomas Wesley weeding a bed of flaming poinsettias that he had planted around the tree he called shower of gold. The tree had bloomed recently in a burst of bright yellow buds and petals. Bettina had wondered at the immaculate lawns and flower beds, but she met Thomas Wesley after Tristan gave her the freedom of the island, and she learned that he was responsible for the beautiful gardens.

Bettina waved to Thomas before she entered the
forest and started down the path. For most of his life, Thomas Wesley had been head gardener on some great estate in England, but he had always wanted to be a sailor and visit other lands. He had come to the New World on a merchant vessel, but then he had met Tristan and signed on the
Spirited Lady
. When they found this island with its lush jungle five years before, he had just had to stay. Tristan had agreed, and in five years, Thomas had turned the grounds surrounding the house into gardens worthy of a palace. He was happy here—you could see it in his face—and Bettina enjoyed talking to him.

Soon Bettina left the path and had to work her way around vine-covered trees and heavy undergrowth. It wasn't as difficult as the first time, for her visits were creating an obvious trail.

She continued toward the mountain and the center of the island. The mountain had been her destination the day she had first decided to explore. She had planned to climb the foothills until she could stand in the midst of the swirling gray clouds. She wanted to lose herself in that primitive splendor, wanted a single sunray to break through the clouds and touch her as it had the heart of the mountain her first day on the island. But she never fulfilled that desire, for she had found another island wonder that day.

Bettina passed palm trees of all heights and varieties, standing side by side with tall pines, their scent filling the air. Coconuts lay on the ground, and magnificent flowers were everywhere—blue, lilac, yellow, and pink.

Soon Bettina could hear the trickling of running water—a stream running down from the mountain. A few steps more and she finally reached her little paradise—a hidden pool formed by the stream.
There were new hibiscus blooms on the opposite bank, large flowers the size of her outstretched hand. They were brilliant reds and yellows, and a lone white one that she knew she would be tempted to pick before she returned to the house.

Bettina walked into the blazing sunlight that half-covered the grassy left bank of the stream. She dropped the towel that she had brought, and began to undress. To her left, silvery carpeted steps seemed to climb up to the mountain itself, and a miniature waterfall fell down them to fill a shallow, rounded pool with crystal-clear water. The pool was surrounded by tall trees, thick ferns, and flowers, and heavy branches fell over the stream on both ends, nearly touching the water. Bettina was hidden as if in a small room.

As she stepped into the cool water, Bettina wondered fleetingly if she would be able to keep her paradise a secret from Tristan when he returned. Then she chided herself. Why couldn't she stop thinking about that man, even for a little while?

“A
re you here with me, Tristan, or is your mind back on the island again?” Jules asked.

“Did you say something?” Tristan looked up, his blue eyes dreamy. Then they darkened with disgust as he glanced about the crowded, smoke-filled room. The stink of unwashed bodies assailed his nostrils. “Tortuga is the Devil's own breeding ground,” he said distastefully. “Why the hell couldn't Bastida be here with the rest of the cutthroats and murderers?”

“You used to like to come here and raise a little hell yourself, as I remember,” Jules reminded him. “At least here you know what you're up against.”

“Got your courage back, eh?”

“I prefer this hellhole any day, to walking into the hands of your enemies.”

“I'm sorry I put you through that scare back on Saint Martin,” Tristan said soberly.

“You would have swung for it, not me. Three ports since Saint Martin, and we still haven't learned anything about Bastida's whereabouts. When will you give up the search, Tristan?”

“When I find him,” Tristan replied, finishing off his second tankard of rum.

“You know, the men spoke to me before we entered the harbor. They're anxious to return home.”

“Why? Haven't I given them leave in every port? They've had plenty of women.”

“They want to return home with a priest.”

“A what?” Tristan asked disbelievingly.

Jules laughed. “It seems quite a few of our shipmates want to have a proper wedding.”

“Bunch of fools! The old chief's blessing was good enough before. I suppose you are in accord with this?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Madeleine has been after me for some time now,” Jules answered, humor in his voice. “She swears I'm living in sin with Maloma.”

“So this is her idea—I should have known. Where are you going to find a priest, anyway? And if you do find one, why would he want to come with us?” Tristan asked.

“Who is to say he wouldn't? Once he hears how many men and women are presently living in sin on our island, the good fellow might even elect to stay.”

“Well, if you and the men are lucky enough to find a willing priest, I won't deny your wishes. But I still think it is ridiculous.”

Jules looked thoughtful for a moment. “Will you be paying a visit to the widow while we're here?”

“I hadn't considered it,” Tristan answered. The lovely widow Hagen hadn't even entered his mind, though she lived only a few blocks from this very tavern, and he always visited her when he came to Tortuga.

“What excuse have you for not finding a congenial bedmate for a night or two?” Jules asked with an innocent expression.

“Do I need an excuse?” Tristan raised a brow.

“It's not like you to pass up bedding a wench.”

“I have had other things on my mind. Must I remind you that this is not a voyage for profit or pleasure?” Tristan asked irritably.

“No, but without the widow's help, you wouldn't have bought a ship to search for Bastida. And she has probably been informed that the
Spirited Lady
is in the harbor. She will be disappointed if you don't visit her.”

“If you are trying to make me feel guilty, old friend, it won't work. I've paid my debt to the widow.”

“You were grateful enough when she sold you the
Spirited Lady
for such a paltry sum.”

“That was six years ago, and you forget that Margaret Hagen is a very wealthy woman,” said Tristan. “Her husband left her half a dozen ships when he died. She was more than willing to let the
Spirited Lady
go for the small sum I had.”

“It was
you
she wanted.”

“You flatter me, Jules. The lady has had countless lovers since I first met her. She just likes men. Besides, the widow would demand too much time. We won't be here that long.”

“You could make the time,” Jules replied lightly.

“I could, but I don't intend to.”

“What is the matter with you, Tristan?” Jules said. “You know the widow knows every ship that comes into the harbor. She also knows you search for Bastida. One visit to her would be worth hours of combing the docks for information.”

“Why are you so intent on my seeing the widow?” Tristan asked in exasperation.

“We have been searching for Bastida for over two
months, and yet it is Bettina Verlaine who occupies your thoughts. I had hoped the widow could make you forget her for a while,” Jules answered.

Jules was right. Bettina and her child had plagued Tristan day and night these past months. He doubted the widow could make him forget about Bettina, but she might tell him something of Bastida.

Tristan sighed heavily. “Very well. I will meet you back on the ship in a few hours.”

“Take your time, my friend. There is no hurry,” Jules replied jovially.

Tristan smiled and shook his head. He left the smoke-filled tavern and stepped into the blinding sunlight; then he sighed again. He had no real desire to see the widow, though he had always been anxious to visit her before. She was a beautiful woman, only three years older than he, and passionate beyond belief.

Tristan passed a small jeweler's shop and decided to go in. A pearl necklace might pacify the widow's temper when he informed her that he wouldn't be staying the night with her. But then—Blast it, why shouldn't he stay the night with her? One day wasted wouldn't matter, and it would be nice to make love to a woman who didn't constantly scream her hatred, who opened her arms and her legs gladly.

Tristan started to leave the jeweler's, for there was no need to purchase a gift for Margaret now, but then a pair of earrings caught his eye. They were sapphires, tiny gems mounted in rings of silver, and suspended in the center of the rings were large dark-blue sapphires that reminded Tristan of Bettina's eyes when she was happy. He would like to see her eyes that color all the time, and in his mind he could picture the sapphires dangling from Bettina's ears,
contrasting beautifully with her silky flaxen hair, and matching her dark-blue eyes.

He purchased the earrings, and also a long strand of pearls—just in case.

Margaret Hagen saw Tristan come up the stone walkway leading to her three-story house. Before he had a chance to knock on the door, it opened, and he was met by a pair of angry dark-violet eyes. But the anger disappeared quickly, and Margaret threw her arms around Tristan's neck and kissed him intensely, molding her soft body against his.

“Ah, Tristan, I've missed you so,” she whispered against his ear. Then she pulled him into her house and quickly shut the door. “I was so angry when you didn't come this morning,” she scolded. “But now that you're here, I can't stay mad at you.”

She took his hand and started to lead him upstairs, but he pulled her into the parlor instead. “You haven't changed, Margaret,” he laughed softly.

“But
you
have—in more ways than one. You used to carry me up those stairs to my bed before I could even greet you. Have you been with another woman this morning? Is that what kept you?” she asked heatedly.

“No, I stopped to purchase a gift for you,” he said lightly, and produced the pearls from the pocket of his longcoat.

She beamed with delight, and she turned and lifted her black shoulder-length hair so he could fasten the pearls around her neck. She faced him again and smiled as she fingered the pearls lovingly.

“I know these didn't take you all morning to purchase, but I won't reproach you anymore.” She took his hand and led him to a black-and-gold sofa. “Now tell me, why did you shave off your beautiful beard?
Not that I mind, but you look so much younger without it.”

“It was something I had to do. But since then I've gotten used to being without it.”

“Why would you have to shave? That is ridiculous,” she replied.

“It's a long story, Margaret, and I'm afraid I don't have the time to relate it,” Tristan said. “I will be sailing in a few hours.”

“But why?”

“You know that I can never rest until I find Bastida. And although preying on Spanish gold is very profitable, it keeps me too long at sea. If I am to find that murderer, I have to devote all my time to hunting him down, and that's what I've decided to do.”

“Why don't you give it up, Tristan? You will probably never find Bastida.”

“Our paths will cross one day, of that I am sure,” Tristan said, his voice full of bitter hatred.

“Then I might as well tell you. Bastida was here about two months ago.”

“Blast it!” Tristan exploded, slamming his hand down on his thigh. “Why didn't I come here first? That's twice now I could have found him, only my mind has been elsewhere!”

“I doubt you would have found him here, Tristan. He was here only a few hours. It seems he is also searching for someone or something.”

“What can you tell me?”

“Not very much, I'm afraid. Bastida was asking about a merchant ship, and he stayed only until he was satisfied it wasn't in the harbor.”

“Why a merchant ship?”

“I have no idea. But if he is searching each island
as you are, with only a day's stop on each one, then the odds are greatly against your finding him until one of you happens on the same place,” Margaret replied.

“Perhaps you are right.”

“Then you will stay here for a while?” she asked hopefully, running her hand over his chest.

“No,” he answered, and stood up quickly. “I must be leaving.”

“There is another woman, isn't there?” she asked, making an effort to smile.

Tristan decided to tell her the truth. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

“Is she pretty? Of course she would be,” Margaret said. “When you said your mind has been elsewhere, you were referring to this woman. You must love her very much.”

“I don't love her, but I want her. She has obsessed my mind,” he replied irritably.

“And how does she feel about you?”

Tristan laughed shortly. “She detests my very soul, and yet I can't blame her. Perhaps it is because she hates me that I still want her. She is a challenge.”

“I find it hard to believe that any woman could hate you, Tristan.” She stood up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “But if you're sure you don't love her, I can wait until you get her out of your blood.”

“Well, don't give up your countless lovers while you're waiting,” he teased.

“You know I could never do that,” she laughed. “Unless, of course, you were willing to marry me. I could give up any man if I had you, Tristan. You would surely be worth the loss.”

Tristan left the widow's house in a carefree mood.
He had intended to stay the night with Margaret, but somehow he just couldn't. The old desire for her was gone. He didn't know what was the matter with him, but he didn't want to worry about it at present.

There was no point in continuing to search for Bastida now. He would wait awhile until Bastida found whoever it was
he
was searching for and returned to Spain. But for now—now Tristan would go home.