The day had begun like so many others, but by nightfall, Emilia would be wishing for an ordinary day.
Oops, I did it again! I came up with another Jack of All Trades story!
Jack Of All Trades - Like Burn Notice and Brisco, I don't own it, I just like to play with it!
He's Not All Jack
By WritePassion
Emilia Rothschild stopped at the gangplank and watched the muscular men loading the precious cargo onto one of her ships, most of it crafts and useful items the people made by hand that were sold in Britain, her home country, and the United States. Her brokering their wares afforded the people a nice income to assist them in paying the unreasonable taxes that the French always seemed to foist upon them. It made her feel proud to be able to help, and she wished she could do more. Her clandestine work with Jack Stiles, American spy, wasn't enough. They were making slow progress to undermine the authority of the French government in Pulau Pulau, yet Emilia wished she and Jack could speed up the process.
Her pulse raced as she thought about the latest rumors floating around the island. There was talk of a revolution to overthrow Governor Croque and usurp his power. Emilia wasn't sure how the people would fight against the Governor's troops, but if they could get the French unawares and catch them by surprise, the revolution might have a chance. Jack had been absent quite a bit lately, and when she asked him what he was doing, he merely winked and asked in a tone that made her think impure thoughts, "Ho ho, wouldn't you like to know?"
She suspected that he was training the natives for an attack, but she could never prove it. At the moment, Jack was helping load the ship. She watched him pass with a loaded crate, straining against the weight of it. He'd stripped off his fancy coat, vest, and the ruffled cravat, and he worked with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. Sweat glistened on the chest hairs and bare skin that peeked out from between the folds of fabric. Emilia fanned herself and held the parasol higher, hoping to block the hot sun.
Jack caught her watching and her cheeks flared, which only enticed him to give her a wicked smile and a wink. Her fan moved faster the moment he turned away. The ship was almost loaded, and for that she was grateful. Emilia wasn't sure how much more of a half-naked Jack she could endure. He took one more load onto the ship and soon returned with a large, long box hefted on his shoulder. He was supposed to be loading, not unloading the vessel. The box bore the markings of the United States, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It must have been something shipped to him from home.
"We are ready to depart, Madame Rothschild," the captain said to her.
"Excellent. Have a safe journey, Captain." She gave him one of her sweet smiles and waved to the men who stood on the deck waiting to pull the plank. Out of courtesy, she waited until the ship left the dock before heading back to her home. There was work to be done. She needed to know if Jack received any new orders, and she was dying to know what was in the box.
The laboratory was empty when she entered. She expected Jack to be there with his shipment. "Jack? Where are you?" She covered every inch, but he wasn't there. Perhaps the Daring Dragoon had been called into service. She smiled and opened the closet, a converted shipping container, and counted the capes, masks and hats inside. Everything was in order. A hum came out of her. "Where is he, and what is he up to?"
Jack didn't make an appearance until lunch was served. He wore a different shirt, the other having been smudged with dirt during his cargo hauling, and he smelled of soap and a mixture of flowers and spice. His hair was damp, and Emilia smiled at him, appreciative of his consideration to bathe before appearing for the noonday meal.
"I've noticed that you're using the shampoo that I devised," she said with an amused smile as he sat across from her.
Jack shrugged and reached for the butter dish. "It's kind of girly, but it does a great job. Why? Do you have a problem with that?"
"No. It's… it's very becoming on you, Jack."
A smile lit up his face. "Thanks, Em. Maybe the next time you have a new invention, I might not mind being your guinea pig." He took a bite of his bread.
"Not at the moment, but I will certainly let you know." She hesitated, pushing a leaf of lettuce around her salad plate. Her curiosity threatened to make her explode. Unable to find a more tactful way of asking, she decided to do the American thing and just let it out. "Jack, what did you get from home?"
"From home?" He glanced at her sideways. "What do you mean?" A light went on in his eyes, and he barked out a short laugh. "Oh, the crate! You thought that was for me?"
"Well, it did have U.S. stamped on it."
Jack ran his tongue over his front teeth before answering. "It wasn't for me. It was a gift… for the people of Pulau Pulau."
"Really? How wonderful!" She clasped her hands beneath her chin and leaned forward. "What is it?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he evaded, his expression changing, appearing as if he were sitting over a fire that got hotter by the moment.
"Jack, you're hiding something from me. I thought we were partners, especially if it has something to do with…" She glanced around to be sure that they were alone. "With overthrowing the French oppression on this island!"
"Yeah, well, sometimes a mission is so secret that not everyone knows about it, not even a partner."
Emilia stood, planted her fists on her hips, and strode toward Jack's chair. With each step, he fought to keep his composure. "Jack, you and I have worked very hard to build a rapport, no, more than that, a friendship. Dare I say that I even feel a bit of affection for you, simply as a friend, of course." She stopped at his side and gave him a pair of entreating eyes as her hand skimmed over his shoulder. "Your sudden closed-mouth policy is, to put it bluntly, disrespectful of me and our relationship. Please, Jack, don't do this to us."
As much as he tried to curb his desire for Emilia, there were times when Jack wished he could show her how he really felt. Her feather light touch sent gooseflesh racing up and down his body despite the heat and humidity of the Pulau Pulau summer. She knew what she was doing, and she did it well. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump of bread in his throat, twisted his head in a vain effort to loosen the cravat that seemed as if it would strangle him, and finally spoke.
"Em, I can't…."
"Can't what," she asked as her fingers brushed his collar and her hand made a slow journey back to his shoulder.
He growled low and threw his napkin on the table. "I can't do this, so you can skip the seduction, sister."
"Seduction," she huffed and retracted her hand as if it had been burned.
"Yeah." He stood and looked into her eyes, anger in his. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it!" Without another word, he stalked out of the dining room, leaving Emilia alone.
"Well!"
Jack retreated to the lab, but his growling stomach wouldn't leave him alone. He'd barely gotten two bites in him before Emilia attempted to wrest away his secret, so after prowling around for a bit he decided to go to the pub. He could grab a sandwich and some ale and forget about how Emilia badgered him, at least for awhile. She would win eventually, he knew that. Hopefully he could hold her off long enough so that everything would be in place for the mission.
The barmaid purred his name as he entered the busy pub. "Jack, you've been a bad boy not showing your face around here. I've missed you." She raked her fingers over his jaw as he smiled at her.
"Maggie, I've missed you too. But you know how it goes. Sometimes I get busy," Jack replied, following her to the bar.
"What, doing the bidding of Miss Prissy again?" She gave Jack a disgusted smirk.
"She's not so bad, once you get to know her," he countered, defending Emilia. "Get me my usual with a roast beef sandwich, please."
"I please," Maggie said with a seductive smile and a soft giggle. She disappeared and returned just as Jack settled into a chair and put his feet up on the table. "Here's your ale, honey. The sandwich is on the way."
"Thanks, darlin'." Jack winked at her, causing her to blush as she turned out of his grasp to wait on another customer.
He ate and drank, comfortable in the company of the people around him. The pub wasn't very busy, as many of the ships that disgorged cargo and sailors in the morning were well on their way out of port on to their next destinations. Later in the day, the next wave would arrive and the staff would be busy entertaining them until well into dawn the next day. Jack kept an eye on the entrance. Emilia might follow him there, but then again, maybe not. He still hadn't figured her out well enough to anticipate her every move. Most times it was fun to do, but not when she got too curious for her own good.
After downing a couple of pints with his lunch, Jack decided his partner and employer had enough time to stew, so he made his way back to Emilia's home. He was almost there when he heard a woman cry out.
"Help! Get your hands off me, you brute!"
Jack turned his head and saw some of Captain Brogard's men harassing a woman on the path to the village outskirts. They wouldn't take no for an answer and hauled her into a waiting cart, and the driver slapped the reins and took off with her screaming. Jack ducked into the lush vegetation, made his quick change, and appeared in a dramatic fashion as the Daring Dragoon. He jumped onto a horse tied up in front of the pub and took off after the cart. He followed it to a remote part of the island.
"What have we here? Doesn't Croquie keep you boys busy enough without manhandling the locals?"
"We were merely shopping," one of the soldiers replied with a sneer. "This woman, she misunderstood."
"I don't see anywhere to shop here. What are you really up to?" The Dragoon dismounted. The woman's hands clung to the cart side, terror in her eyes. "I'm going to ask you nicely to let her go. If you have business to conduct, I suggest you keep it in the marketplace."
"We have business, but not with her."
The sword fight was hardly an even match. The Dragoon took out the three with deft moves, which left him alone with the instigator. He finished him off with a shove into the pile of soldiers and moved to the back of the cart to help the woman down, but the Dragoon didn't count on Brogard coming upon the scene. The Captain was in a bad mood, and seeing the Dragoon best his men again made him livid. He drew his sword and ran at him from behind with a growing growl that morphed into a shriek.
Brogard gave himself away, and the Dragoon laughed as he turned and held up his sword, ready for the attack. He planted his feet and parried against Brogard's downward thrust. The momentum, however, took him back a step. The Frenchman's fury surprised the Dragoon, and he backed up another step and he was on the defensive. Swords clanged as metal clashed with metal.
The Dragoon turned the tide and was on the offensive, thrusting with such speed that his blade flashed in the sunlight, sparkling like a diamond. Brogard's face showed his fury and desperation, and his sword flew against the Dragoon's.
Somehow he got his sword under the Dragoon's and used the strength of his anger to send it upward, twisting out of the masked man's grasp. It landed in the dirt path not far away. Grimacing in victory, Brogard thrust his sword tip into the Dragoon's neck, just under his jaw, at the pulse beating at his throat.
"Oh, what is this? I have you now," Brogard crowed. "My governeur has requested that I capture you for an execution, but I say, why waste valuable taxpayer money?" The point drew a small trickle of blood as Brogard's smile grew. "Good bye, mon deu Dragoon."
The Dragoon closed his eyes, waiting patiently for the end. His heels clung to the precipice of a cliff. He didn't know how high it was, but no doubt it would be a fatal landing falling backwards. If he didn't take the tumble, Brogard's sharp blade would slash his throat from side to side. He felt the warm trickle down his neck just before his balance went off kilter. He'd been so adept at getting out of scrapes before, but when he felt himself hanging in mid-air for a second before gravity took hold and pulled him to the earth below, he realized that this time there was no escape.
He twisted around to see where he was going and his mid-section collided with a tree branch, a very wide branch of a long-dead tree. It was hollow and broke his fall only for a moment. He shrieked as his body hit another, and another, his arms flailing for a hold on a sturdy branch. None of them could support his weight. They only slowed down his descent. He caromed into the trunk with a force that took his breath away and caused him to see stars. Stunned, the Dragoon tumbled the rest of the way unable to fight his fate.
His head cracked against a rock at the bottom of the cliff, missing the sandy beach by a couple of feet. He lost consciousness, his limbs flung out, and he lay like a starfish on the sand.
"It is finished," Brogard muttered. "The Dragoon is no more."
"Sir, perhaps we should go to the beach and make certain."
"You idiot! Do you not see that he is bleeding?" Brogard pointed out the red stain on the rock where the Dragoon's head struck it. "I assure you, he is dead. No one could survive a fall like that and live."
Brogard mounted the horse that the Dragoon had taken from the marketplace and led his men back to town, the defenseless woman sitting in the cart weeping, inconsolable at the Dragoon's death.