Commanding Heart (13 page)

Knight listened to this speech with
barely concealed disgust but he did at last free Gibson. Knight drew himself up
to his full height and remained in front of Gibson menacingly. He clenched his
teeth as he looked down at the mean, little tyrant before him, then delivered a
withering pronouncement: “Against my better judgment, I am about to return your
daughter to your care,” Knight said with a clipped, measured tone; “but rest
assured, if Catherine ever comes to any harm at your hands, know that I will
find you and I will make you sorry you ever drew breath.” The force of his
words hung between the two men for a long moment until Gibson had the good
sense to look away and take a step backwards. His eyes still flashed venom but
Knight also saw the awareness that Gibson understood and accepted the ultimatum
he had been given.

Into this perilous arena stepped a hesitant
Catherine. She had returned to the deck accompanied by young Tom, who carried her
valise. The tension onboard was so palpable at their entrance that Catherine
instinctively reached out a protective hand and halted Tom in his progress. All
seemed to be in suspended animation: Catherine noted the Captain’s threatening
posture; her father’s rumpled appearance and barely controlled temper; and the
well-dressed stranger who watched all with sardonic humor. She blanched at the
sight, shaking her head in confusion. Catherine turned to Tom and gently
removed her valise from his hand. “Stay here” she bade the young boy and moved across
the main deck with halting steps. Not a man spoke as she made her way through
their ranks to where her father and Captain Knight stood facing one another
like prize fighters. Everyone watched in fascination as this strange scene played
out on the deck of their ship. When Catherine finally reached her father’s
side, he broke the eerie silence when he stepped forward and wrapped her in an
embrace exclaiming loudly: “Catherine, Catherine! My own sweet girl …..”

Catherine stood stiffly in her
father’s arms a short time then pulled away. With dismay she saw the look of
cold contempt on Captain Knight’s face as the little drama played out before
him. “Hello, father” she said simply, her voice sounding flat and hollow even
to her own ears. William Gibson’s face grew dark at her cold salutation but he
wisely kept control of himself. With a pointed look at Captain Knight he turned
to his traveling companion and urged him forward. The man, who still had not
spoken to this point, stepped in front of Catherine, a wry smile touching the
corners of his mouth.  “My dear Catherine,” her father enthused, “Allow me to
introduce you to my business associate and close friend, Monsieur Philippe duMont.”

At the sound of this name, a murmur
rippled through the crowd of sailors on deck: a Frenchman onboard
HMS Triton
?
M. duMont grinned with obvious delight at their reaction and boldly took Catherine’s
hand in his own. He removed his hat with a grand flourish, gave a low, sweeping
bow to the beautiful woman before him then raised Catherine’s hand to his lips
in salute. Catherine’s cheeks flamed in embarrassment at this unwonted
attention. With dismay she saw the sarcastic look that crossed his face as watched
her discomfort. He was a handsome man; fair with a lithe figure and careful
bearing, but beneath his polished appearance Catherine could sense a dark
purpose. “Miss Gibson,” he said in strong accented tones, “I am delighted to
make your acquaintance at last. Your father has told me
much
about you”
he finished, his eyes roving over her person appraisingly as he spoke.
Catherine felt her anger rise at his callousness: the humiliation of being
greeted in this way, at being made a spectacle in front of the crew, but more
importantly in front of Captain Knight. She could sense the tension in Captain
Knight from where he stood behind her but she refused to look in his direction,
knowing the stern visage that would meet her there. Catherine drew her hand
away and responded heatedly, “You have the advantage, M. duMont, for my father
has told me
nothing
of you.” Gibson looked angrily at his daughter but
duMont was not deterred. With a sly grin he gave Catherine another practiced
bow: “Ahh, but there will be much time for such things, Miss Gibson. Much
time….” Catherine blushed in anger and embarrassment at duMont’s verbal
challenge and stepped away, unspeaking.

William Gibson stomped toward her
impatiently, all pretence at civility now gone.  He gave Catherine a low growl
of command: “Daughter, you will accompany M. duMont to the carriage. We leave
now.” Catherine continued to hold herself stiffly, not moving, but she knew she
was beat. She was her father’s possession to command as he wished. The bitterness
of the fact stabbed at Catherine’s heart but there was nothing to be done.
Catherine’s spirits sank in resignation but she was determined to make a proper
farewell. She turned nervously to Captain Knight; the weight of a thousand
unspoken things lay heavy on her heart but no words seemed able to express her
feelings in this terrible moment. Catherine was startled from her reverie as Gibson’s
voice hissed in her ear, “
Now
!” Catherine flushed and stepped away at
her father’s command. M. duMont took her arm possessively, leading her to the
gangplank with obvious delight. Before descending, however, Catherine managed
to turn round, her beautiful features wreathed in bitterness and regret. “Thank
you, Captain, for your kind hospitality” she said in a low, broken voice. Then,
before any further protest could be made, Catherine was led down the gangplank
and into the awaiting carriage by duMont.

“We depart;” Gibson sneered from the top
of the gang plank: “Matthews, I hope you can at least be counted on to get my
daughter’s things delivered” he finished arrogantly. Matthews bristled at the
insult and replied angrily; “I will bring Catherine’s things to the house
myself. That way I can make sure all is well” he finished contemptuously.
Gibson looked at Matthews a moment, and then a broad smile came to his face:
“No….” Gibson drawled slowly, “Now that I think of it, that will not do at all.
I mustn’t interrupt your work, Matthews. In fact, I withdraw my request. I will
send a servant to gather Catherine’s things. You need not have any further
contact with
my
daughter.” Matthews took a quick step forward at
Gibson’s threat, balled fist at the ready, but Captain Knight laid a steadying
hand on the lieutenant’s arm. Gibson smirked at the reaction he had elicited
and tipped his hat to both men with mock civility. As Gibson turned to go, Knight’s
low voice sounded once more: “Remember my words, Gibson” he said with pointed
meaning. In his arrogant confidence, William Gibson did not even bother to turn
around; instead he stepped jauntily down the gangplank speaking casually over
his shoulder as he departed; “Rest assured, Captain, my daughter will be well
taken care of in her
new
home.” Captain Knight’s eyes narrowed at the
words, his intelligent mind recognizing the hidden meaning in Gibson’s speech. Standing
stiffly at attention, Captain Knight watched William Gibson depart the ship.
With great show, Gibson joined Catherine and duMont in the awaiting carriage.
Then, with a sharp word to the footman, Gibson’s team of horses was whipped
into action and the carriage rapidly departed the busy dock.

As the trio disappeared from sight,
all on deck remained at uneasy attention. The captain alone among the men moved
from his spot. He stepped up to the ship’s rail and watched in smoldering
silence as the black carriage turned and made its way for home. Catherine never
once turned round; she never looked back. Knight’s eyes followed every motion
of the speeding carriage until it was long out of sight. He stood alone at the
rail, the muscle in his jaw working furiously and his knuckles gleaming white
in clenched fists. When he at last turned around he found his men – every one
of them – rooted to the spot, staring questioningly at their leader. Knight bristled
with anger and began barking orders that had all men scrambling.  After several
unusually sharp words to the hands, Knight called for Matthews. “Yes, sir” the
lieutenant answered as he came forward at the summons. “You have the bridge”
Knight bit out harshly, and he strode away from the deck. Encountering an
abandoned cask in his path, Captain Knight kicked it away with a savagery that
left his men in stunned silence. The noise of the barrel as it rolled across
deck was the only sound to be heard as their captain descended the ladder, and
disappeared into his cabins.

Chapter XVI

The carriage ride to the Gibson
estate was a trying test of Catherine’s mind and body. While William Gibson and
his friend duMont discussed business matters, Catherine looked about blankly: the
sandy white coastline, azure skies, and lush forests of palm were stunning but Catherine
found little beauty in the scene. The oppressive heat plagued her and she
wished for nothing more than to be free once more on the open sea. Catherine’s
spirits sank low at the thought –
HMS Triton
and the freedom it provided
could never be hers again. Captain Knight would deliver his French prisoners, the
ship would receive final repairs, and then
HMS Triton
would return to
its mission. It was unlikely she would see the ship – or its captain – anytime
soon; “
If ever
” she thought grimly.

Catherine shuddered involuntarily and
the deep tremor broke her free from her unhappy reverie. As awareness of her
surroundings returned, she immediately noted the change in tenor of the
conversation between her father and his associate. Her father was clearly
agitated by some casual remark made by duMont. Listening more closely,
Catherine could sense a hidden message underneath their words to one another.
“All is well, M. Gibson” duMont said with great calm, “The project has
encountered a small problem but there are, as you English say, more fish in the
sea. Another…
opportunity
will present itself very soon.”  Gibson
clearly was not convinced by his companion’s assurances: “The loss is one thing
but what about their discretion regarding the
transaction
” Gibson
returned with annoyance. Catherine’s face must have registered surprise at
their words for the astute duMont recognized her sudden attention and carefully
steered the talk another way; “We forget ourselves, M. Gibson” Philippe duMont said
with exaggerated gallantry, “Mademoiselle is left quite alone in her thoughts
while we discuss our boring business details. I beg your forgiveness” he
finished with a small bow.

Catherine watched duMont closely as
he made his little speech; his fair hair was wavy with flecks of gold
throughout, and his green eyes were bright in his intelligent face. He was
indeed handsome and she was certain many women would be pleased at his
attentions but something in his manner gave Catherine pause. His manner appeared
gracious and open but Catherine could not deny the undercurrent of danger she detected
in him. There was something too polished, too perfect, in his manner. Added to
the unusual conversation with her father, it left her very worried about duMont
and his intentions. “Indeed,” Catherine replied curtly, “I welcome the solitude
as I try to adapt to my new home.” Gibson scowled in at her discourteous words
but before he could reprimand his daughter, duMont smiled brilliantly and replied;
“We shall soon arrive, but might I first point out my own home to you?” duMont
lifted his arm an made a commanding gesture toward a large plantation house on
a slight rise overlooking the sea. The imposing structure was a brilliant white,
wrapped round by a wide verandah. Long, low windows reflected the bright
sunlight, creating a strange glittering effect that seemed more malevolent than
welcoming to Catherine’s mind. The estate was formidable, a symbol of wealth
and luxury, but it held little warmth in its polished façade.

“Most impressive, I am sure”
Catherine said with reluctance. “I am glad you approve, Miss Gibson” duMont
said, choosing to ignore her lukewarm response: “I hope you will come to see it
as your second home” he finished boldly. Catherine’s eyes flew to her father’s
face for support but she was aghast to find a look of cruel humor touching his
features. “You need not look so prudish, daughter,” Gibson intoned laconically,
“on the island society is much more… free than in England. duMont is as often
in my home as I am myself. You should prepare to see a great deal of duMont in
future.” A wolfish grin crossed duMont’s face that made Catherine blanche with
misgiving.

Desperately Catherine tried to calm
the nervous tremors she felt at her father’s casual words. Gibson’s intent was
unmistakable; Catherine was a prize to be given to duMont. But when? Catherine had
imagined her father’s plan was to tempt duMont with a future marriage to his
daughter… but was it possible he intended to arrange such a union right away?  The
thought was impossibly bleak. Catherine looked around frantically as the
carriage hurtled onward, fighting a desperate urge to jump from the speeding
carriage that drew her closer to her fate. Catherine’s mind screamed in
warning, urging her to find refuge from this unwonted lover and a father who
saw her only as property to sell. The horses hooves thundered onward and the carriage
rocked violently as it climbed a steep promontory and negotiated a dangerous
curve without slowing; to the left was the impenetrable jungle, to the right a jagged
rock face and a sheer drop to the sea below. In this frightful moment, precariously
balanced between two impossibilities, Catherine knew she could not escape. Just
as this treacherous path offered the only passage between two dangers, so too was
Catherine held captive between her father’s authority and duMont’s unwonted
attentions. The only way forward was between the two.