DD-Michaels-END.rtf (37 page)

Her hair had been cropped short, streaked by the sun, and tousled as if she woke in the morning, ran her hands through the uneven spikes, then thought no more of the matter.

She'd seen her share of summers, but her blue-green eyes didn't seem to suffer for the slight lines around them, and her jaw had softened only marginally. There was an air of serenity about her, as well as one of sadness. Most surprising was her very pale skin, barely touched by the sun.

She had been and
,
although well past her first flush of youth, remained a remarkably beautiful woman, Morgan decided.

A remarkably beautiful woman who at the moment was clinging to Ethan, happily calling his name and then kissing him on both cheeks.

Ethan returned Marianna's embrace, then gently disengaged himself in order to introduce the woman to Morgan. "Marianna
,
my fiancée, Morgan Becket. Morgan, please allow me to introduce Mrs. Marianna Warren."

Marianna looked from Ethan to Morgan and back again, her grimace almost comical. "Oh, my. Your fiancée, Ethan? And here I was, hanging on you like some limpet." She smiled at Morgan. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Warren, don't be. I know he's mine."

Marianna's eyebrows shot up as she looked at Morgan in amazement. "Really?"

Morgan shrugged. "Well, he's not yours," she said, and then could no longer hold
back her grin. "Welcome to Becket Hall, Mrs. Warren."

"Marianna, please," the woman said as all three of them began the rather long walk to the terrace, the very large Abraham following a few paces behind them. "We've some damage, I'm afraid. The English were becoming too curious so we left the harbor, and then we got turned about a
bit in the
mist and suddenly the French were too close. I'll
be happy to get back
on the
open sea."

"I'll be sorry to see you go," Ethan told her as he motioned for the ladies to precede him up the stone steps to the terrace. "I don't think you'll be carrying back what your Federalist friends hoped to see."

Marianna's shoulders slumped, if only for a moment. "Women should run countries, do you know that? Women with sons. Women with daughters. Women who understand that sacrificing children is totally without glory, and that no battle, no matter how soundly won, can ever be called a true victory. There would be much more negotiations and many fewer wars if women made the decisions. But no. Old men make wars, then keep themselves safe and pretend to care as the young are sent into the slaughter. And I'm sermonizing yet again, Ethan, for which I apologize."

"I like her. So much so that I won't even mention our own Elizabeth, or Catherine the Great, or even Cleopatra," Morgan whispered to Ethan as they made their way along the terrace, to the French doors standing open at the opposite end.

"
I appreciate that, imp," he answered, before looking to Abraham. "Our host wishes to speak with you as well, Abraham."

"Is that so, sir?" Abraham asked, his large white teeth showing as he grinned widely.

"You're Mrs. Warren's captain, aren't you?"

'To hell and beyond, sir, that I am, and for her good husband before her."

Abraham hadn't said much, but
the song
in
his speech made Morgan smile. The lilt in his voice was the lilt in Odette's, and she longed to ask him where he'd been born.

But others matters were more important, a fact she noticed the moment she saw her father's face. She quickly stepped behind Abraham, who could probably effectively block out the sun, let alone hide one female who didn't wish to be noticed, then told to go away.

Ainsley, who had been leaning over one of the large tables, studying an equally large chart, looked up incuriously as they entered the room.

Morgan saw the slight squint as her father's eyes narrowed, saw the way that, just for a moment, his lips seemed to compress tightly before they relaxed into a small smile. "Please, come in, make yourselves comfortable," he said as he stepped away from the charts
.
"I am Ainsley Becket."

Marianna stepped forward at once, her right hand outstretched. "Then you are the man I wish to thank
,
Mr. Becket. Thank you for that show of force as we made for your lovely harbor. I'm Marianna Warren."

Ainsley felt the warmth of her skin, the fragility of her long, slim hand in his. "Warren?" He looked to Ethan. "Isn't that strange. I hadn't known our guest's full name before now, had I? Warren. Shipbuilder, merchant trader. Richard Warren, from Hampton Roads, I believe."

"My late husband. You knew Richard?"

"I did, if only by reputatio
n
. A
fe
llow trader, you understand. My most sincere condolences, madam. I had no idea he was gone."

"Murdered, yes. But that's a sad story for another day. You've seen the damage to my ship?"

Ainsley didn't answer immediately. He was too shocked at his response to her. He hadn't had a thought for another woman since Isabella was taken from him more than a dozen long years ago. And
this woman was so different from Isabella, who had been small and rather softe
r
—
a
n exotic, warm-blooded girl, actually, who'd never been allowed to reach her full potential. Isabella had laughed and sang and danced. This woman was al
l
elegance, all business.

Ethan noticed Ainsley's small confusion, and said, "On
e o
f
Mr. Becket's sons is already gathering men to make repairs, Marianna. Excuse me, please, and I'll fetch the cylinder. Morgan? Would you care to go with me, perhaps find some tea and cheese and cold meats for Marianna and her captain?"

"Find some tea and cheese and cold meats," Morgan repeated in a singsong voice once she and Ethan were out in the hallway. "Why is it always women who are relegated to such matters? I'd wager Marianna Warren doesn't fetch cheese and meat. And what's wrong with
Papa? Did you see him? He was very nearly at a
loss
for words."

"Marianna Warren is a beautiful woman, imp. Or hadn't that occurred to you?"

Morgan stopped dead in the hallway. "But...
b
ut he's never..."

"Don't worry, Morgan. Marianna leaves tonight."

"I'm not
worried.
Just surprised. And, once she has delivered the cylinder with our government's response
,
there will be a war?"

"You'd probably have to apply to someone with more knowledge than I on that topic, but yes, I think there will be a war. America is still 'those upstart colonists
'
to many in England. Now, see if you can get someone to make up a tray for Marianna and Abraham, and I'll go unearth the cylinder, all right?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Morgan said, saluting him rather sarcastically before watching him head off toward the staircase. "Be a lady, Morgan, do
lady
things," she grumbled as she retraced her steps past the study, on the way to the kitchens, her head down, watching her skirts kick out in front of her with each long stride.

"Miss Becket? Excuse me, Miss Becket?"

Morgan turned to see Abraham standing in the shadows. "Oh, hello. Is there something you need?”

"Yes, miss. You have a
ma
mb
o
here with you, mis
s
^?
 
I saw the
aizan
hanging on the lintel of a door beneath the terrace. A
h
um
fo
door, yes? You have a
mambo
?”

Morgan opened her mouth slowly, just as slowly said.
 
"...Ah, yes. Yes, we have a
ma
m
b
o
.
A very powerful
mam
bo,
Abraham
.
Marassa
.
Our Odette is one
of twins."

Abraham nodded. "I understand. I, Abraham
,
am
dosu.
"

Morgan racked her brain for the meaning of
dosu,
and then remembered. The first child born after the birth of twins, a girl being a
d
o
ssa
,
a boy a
dosu.
The one who unites all the powers of the twins so that he is more powerful than they. More powerful than Odette.

Odette subservient to someone else. Morgan could barely imagine such a thing.

"You..
.
u
m
, you wish me to fetch her to you?"

Abraham seemed to grow even taller, larger. "This is not
my land, not my place. I would go to
her. We
need speak of the safekeeping of my mistress."

"Then please to come, great
hungan."

Morgan nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Odette's voice, and hastily backed against the wall, so that she was not standing between this powerful voodoo priest, this powerful priestess.

They made quite a sight, the pair of them. Abraham in breeches that fit his muscular thighs like a second skin, Odette in her shapeless dress and threadbare carpet slippers, her graying hair tied
up in a checkered bandanna
.

"I have been waiting weeks for you, great
hungan,"
Odette said as they passed by Morgan as if they'd forgotten her presence. "A peasant feast only, I fear, but a groaning board bent beneath your favored
afibas
and
rapadous.
There is also
tremp
é
,
to slake your thirst, if that pleases you."

"That it does, woman."

Abraham then slipped into some sort of patois, and Odette followed his lead, their voices growing more quiet as they turned a corner in the hallway and disappeared.

"Well, I'll
be
damned...."

Morgan, her nerves stretched taut, yelped at the sound of Ethan's voice, and whirled around to
beat her fists against his chest.
"Do
n
't
sneak up on me like that!" Then she pressed her arms to her own chest and took a deep breath. "My God, I've never seen Odette like that. And she knew he was coming. Did you hear that part?"

Ethan tapped the silver cylinder against his thigh. "I did hear that, yes. I'm not going to think about any of it right now, but I did hear it. And, now that Abraham seems to be well taken care of, have you arranged for anything for Marianna to eat?"

Morgan pulled a face. "As long as nobody says anything important until I'm back," she warned, then trotted off toward the kitchens.

Ethan shook his head and returned to Ainsley's study, to find that both he and Marianna were bent over the charts, seemingly as comfortable with each other as old friends.

"I think that's workable, Ainsley," Marianna said, straightening, one
hand to the small of her back
.
"But I'll say again, there is no need for you to put you and your people in
any danger. We've been outrunning the English for nearly two years now. The French as well. We fly so many flags from
the
Marianna
,
I sometimes forget which one to raise. All we need is to get into the open sea."

Ainsley folded one of the charts, then looked at her. "And you've never had a problem?"

"Only the once," Marianna admitted with a smile.
 
"But we were prepared. Half the crew put themselves into chains below decks, a few sturdy casks of not very pleasant smelling refuse were opened to the breeze. Nobody is anxious to board a slaver. Especially one that has been spotted just as a sail-wrapped body is being tossed unceremoniously into the sea."

Ainsley's smile was unabashedly admiring. "A ruse worthy of a master, Marianna. My compliments. But now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to inspect your ship for myself. Please remain here, and enjoy whatever refreshments my daughter manages to collect for you. Ethan," he murmured, making a quick signal with his hand, "perhaps you'll join me for a moment?"

Ethan handed the sealed cylinder to Marianna, and then followed Ainsley out onto the terrace. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"You mean other than that I dislike the idea of watching a woman sail into the open sea with little protection, her mission already decided to be fruitless in any c
a
se? That is what you said, isn't it?"

They walked slowly along the length of the long terrace, both with their hands clasped behind their backs, their gazes on the two ships in the harbor in front of the village. "It is my opinion, yes. Some want peace, some on both sides. But more are committed to war, and the French would be delighted to have England's forces divided along two fronts. That's why we met that man at the inn. He wanted to intercept any communications. I only wish I knew how he knew about the cylinder."