Francoise Mortemart looked around him, wondering why he had bothered to come to this party. He usually eschewed the usually boring public balls in favor of these small, darker parties, but this one was disappointing him. His friend Eugene had tempted him into coming, "I promise you, mon ami, it will be worth your coming. I have something that will both surprise and delight you." Well, so far neither surprise nor delight had materialized.
Suddenly the sound of laughter. A light, yet throaty laugh, the laugh of a female who genuinely meant it. He'd like to hear her laugh again, the noise tickled his ear delightfully.
He looked across the room to see her standing there. She stood out from the other women in the room, taller, slimmer, and her hair was its natural dark auburn color, not powdered grey white as was the fashion. Her dress, too, set her apart in its stylish simplicity. The silk was woven with a mossy green and bronze colored stripes, over a bronze silk petticoat. She did not rely on an excess of lace and ribbons, and decoration, the elegance of the dress was in its cut and simplicity. The neckline was as low as any other in the room, and revealed a generous expanse of golden-skinned breasts.
She was talking to two young dandies, laughing at their jokes as though she found them hilarious. She spoke an excellent, though accented French, and in that rich voice the accent was charming. The domino she wore disguised her eyes, but she had a tempting full lipped mouth that was devoid of all but a little rouge.
The dandies were kissing her hand, bidding her a regretful farewell. She nodded her head, gave them a dazzling smile. She watched them go, then looked about the room, observing what, he did not know, but if he left her alone for too long, someone was sure to be there, ruining his chances.
He grabbed two glasses of champagne, and went over to her. "Madam…"
"Mademoiselle," she corrected.
"Mademoiselle. It is warm in here, and I was afraid you might be thirsty." He handed her a glass of champagne and was awarded with a glorious smile. Close up, she was even more beautiful than he'd expected. She wore a floral fragrance he could not place that reminded him of the nights he'd spent in the tropical ports. Jasmine, that was it, night blooming jasmine.
"Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Francoise Mortemart, Captain Mortemart of the King's Privateers. He hoped he impressed her, he was usually successful with the ladies. He was of above average height, well built (well, his middle had grown a little thick since he had not been at sea for a while), and his fair good looks with the blond hair and blue eyes usually drew women to him.
"The King's Privateers? Really. I had heard that Louis XIV had drained France's coffers and that your king was rather lacking in ready cash. Tell me, have your efforts been successful?"
He hadn't even gotten her name and now she was quizzing him. But she cast him an innocent smile, as if to show that she was teasing—only he wasn't sure if she was. France was in a dire state financially, and her king showed every inclination of following in his grandfather's footsteps, it was likely that France was going to suffer financially for years to come.
"Mademoiselle, please forgive me, I do not believe you have given me your name." He gave her the smile that had won so many hearts, "Such a beautiful young woman must certainly have a name that matches her beauty!"
She laughed. "If God is good to me, I will spend the rest of my days surrounded only by Frenchmen! My name is Catherine. At home they call me Cathy, but that does not sit so well on French tongues. So call me Catherine, I don't mind." She swept him a deep curtsy and smiled.
"La Belle Catherine." He took her hand and kissed it. She was finding him thoroughly charming, charming enough to drive the image of Charles Vane out of her mind for the moment, who had seemed to haunt her since she left Nassau. He was looking into her eyes, "I'm devilishly charming," his look said, "you don't wish to resist me, now do you?" Devilishly charming was just what she needed at the moment. Devilishly charming was the exact opposite of Charles Vane.
She held up her glass. "Our host has provided the most excellent of champagne." She tipped her glass upside down, "Is it possible that I could have more?"
He signaled the servant. "Eugene always has the best of everything, that is why his parties are the most popular in Paris." He took two glasses off a silver tray. "He will be glad to hear that you are enjoying yourself."
She drank half then glass, then paused. "You are a privateer for the crown, yes? Where exactly are you plying your trade?"
"Well, the Carolinas in the New World have not proved very profitable. We have taken to raiding Spanish galleons when we can. When we are successful it is very profitable. The West Indies are proving to be fertile hunting ground."
"Tell me," she said slowly, "Do you every put in to Nassau?"
"Yes, sometimes, especially to re-fit and supply. Why?"
"I live in Nassau. I've lived there since I was seventeen. I just wonder if I've seen your ship. It's mostly the pirates who come into port and sell their booty, but some privateers do come and sell their goods to the, ah, agents. Nassau does seem to attract all sorts, but I've come to love it, the good and the bad. I'll pass through England on my way home, but I am not returning there to live, ever."
"Well, cherie," it was the first time he used the endearment, "I don't blame you. The English are bores and their food is dreadful. Not to mention the fact that they are devoid of manners."
"And they don't know enough to keep a woman's secrets, as a Frenchman might?" She smiled at him playfully.
"Well, cherie, do you have any secrets that I should keep? I promise, as a good Frenchman, I would not reveal them."
"Yes, but none that I would care to tell. I keep my secrets to assure my safety." She clinked her glass against his, the crystal ringing sweetly.
"Tell me one secret," he begged, "I would have one that I would keep for you, on my word."
She drew back from him, "All right, here is a harmless one. For several years I have been the paramour of one of the worst pirates in the Caribbean. In fact, he is the reason I left Nassau—I had no other way of getting free of him. I was young and foolish when I met him, and I don't know if he became love or habit. I have been hiding from him in Europe, but I am homesick I am going back. I only hope that he has found someone else and forgotten me. I am afraid that I am foolish enough that I might take him back. And I think I need more champagne, all this talking is making me terribly thirsty, only I do not want to get too drunk."
"Shall we adjourn then to somewhere else?" Francoise was determined that Catherine should not escape him. It was all too likely that she would disappear like something in a fairy tale. As big as Paris was, the social circles were small. He probably knew something about every person in the room. The party had promised to be boring until he laid eyes on Catherine. Now he had found an exquisite new toy that he wished to keep from anyone else. If only he could convince her to leave with him.
She looked at him, sizing up the situation, making up her mind. "I am afraid, Monsieur de Mortemart, that may not be possible. I have only known you a short time, and I fear you seek to bed me. Which would not be the worst idea, but I do not know if that is what I want right now. I know I do not need to fear that you seek something from me that I am unwilling to give. In fact, I think a dalliance with you would probably be delightful, I just do not know if I am in the mood tonight." And I don't know if you are what you say you are, she thought.
He took her hand and kissed it, his blue eyes staring straight into hers. "Does that mean, cherie, that I may hope that we will have that dalliance soon?"
"Yes, very soon, I only wish to beg off for tonight." I may have questions to ask you, and sex would only get in the way.
"Well then," he said gallantly, "May I summon your carriage for you?"
"Alas, I do not have one. My stop in Paris has only been for a few months duration. I must return to Nassau before the storms begin and the voyage becomes too hazardous."
"In that case, cherie, I insist that I take you home in my carriage. No Frenchman would do less." He added, and thought to himself, there is more to this girl than meets the eye. I have never met anyone so coy and open at the same time.
"Oh," he said suddenly, "Before I do so." He removed her mask, revealing an exquisitely lovely face. He took that face in his hands, and kissed the tempting lips. "I must have you, cherie, if not tonight, then soon."
She laid a slender hand against his cheek. "I have told you that you may, have I not? And I am a woman of my word. I want you, too. I need something to remember when I sail back to Nassau. You would be a most pleasant memory to keep."
He had the footman summon his carriage. He put her black velvet cape over her shoulders and helped her into the carriage, then followed. As the carriage took off he placed himself close to her, then started to kiss her neck and her shoulders. Encouraged by her response, he found her mouth, then moved to his hands to her back to undo her laces.
"No," she said and started to struggle, but he only laughed. Then she switched tactics, murmuring endearments, not fighting him, and he let her go, thinking she had given in to his demands.
Until he felt the stiletto at his throat. "Did I not say, cher, that I was not in the mood tonight? Please don't make me use this, you really are too delicious a man for me to want to hurt you." She shrank back on the seat, holding her dagger to that he could see it in plain view, tapping it against her hand.
He decided it would not be a good idea to try to take it from her. What had she said, that her former paramour was one of the most notorious pirates in the Caribbean? He had had women object to his advances before, but none had pulled a knife on him.
She lifted the hem of her skirt, and slid the knife back into the scabbard fastened onto her calf. "I so hoped I would not have to resort to this," she said.
"Well," he said, "Would you be amenable to dinner tomorrow night? You did say that it was this night that you were not in the mood?"
She took hold of him and pressed her lips onto his, kissing him slowly and deliciously, "I will be in the mood tomorrow, I can assure you. Just. Be. Patient."
"Mademoiselle, I do not see how that will be possible, but I shall try." He let her off at her hotel, and watched as she disappeared inside. "Tomorrow night then, cherie, but I will make you pay for making me wait. I cannot wait to see if you are that same delicious golden color all over."
A half a world away…
Vane had been drinking rum and throwing rocks at seabirds. He was at that stage of drunk where an attempt at conversation could result in a fight and the crew conscientiously avoided him.
Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny had been watching him the whole time. He would scoop up a pebble from the beach, wait for a target to appear, then aim the missile, sometimes having success, sometimes not. One victim had died, a few others had been crippled, but most recovered after a few minutes, then taken to the air.
"Have you heard anything about her, Jack?" Vane demanded, "What about Flint's spies? Has he located her? Where the hell is she? "
Rackham had hoped that a successful re-uniting with Eleanor would solve the problem of Cathy Flint, but it was not to be. The pairing with Eleanor had its obvious advantages, but the problem now was that Vane was still in love with Cathy, even after a two years' absence. Jack Rackham was sure that Cathy Flint would return to Nassau, in the meantime he had the unenviable task of trying to keep his captain calm.
"Flint believes that she may try to seek out her parents before she returns to Nassau. She is now past age of consent, she may try to make her peace with them. It is almost certain that she will come back here. She's managed to elude the Spanish all this time. Flint's spy in England has had people looking for her. They think she may be in Paris now. She'll be back while sailing is possible. She wouldn't try to return home if there was the danger of a storm."
Vane shook his head, and Jack and Anne walked off. "It would be advantageous for him to remain with Eleanor Guthrie. We would reap all sorts of benefits from that alliance, and he knows it. Instead, he's pining like a schoolboy over a wench that left him two years ago, how can he know she'll even want him back if she does return?"
"Because he's in love with her, you fool," Anne thought, "The man is lovesick, he wants her back. He didn't appreciate her while he had her, and now he's blaming himself and rightfully so. The alliance between Vane and Eleanor won't last because they don't love each other. He's in love with Cathy Flint, and I'll wager she's still in love, too. There were never two people more crazy for each other."
Back on the other side of the world.
Cathy stood, examining herself in the mirror. She had chosen her rose pink gown, her most seductive. The sleeves were daringly short, and the décolletage was much lower than decency allowed. She'd pinned up her hair on the back of her head, a few strands hanging seductively down her bare back.
She felt like a victim preparing herself for sacrifice, but it was all good. She'd made a promise, and had made up her mind to enjoy herself. Mortemart was handsome, smart, and as a privateer, she felt herself in familiar territory. And from the way he kissed, the young captain might possibly know his way around a woman's body. There had been no lover since Venice, and she was in the mood to let herself be ravished. Of course no one but Charles…
Don't even think it, she told herself severely, you told yourself that you would erase him from your mind. Not think about him again, ever. But that wasn't the case.
Each time she'd taken a lover, she had closed her eyes and pretended it was Charles making love to her. She had tried without success to stop it, but wasn't able. She was returning to Nassau because she missed him so much it hurt. Charles had taught her how to love. He had taken a scared but eager virgin and turned her into a woman. No matter how bad things might get, they had managed to keep their love alive. No two people burned for each other the way they did. Well, not quite true, she reminded herself, after the last disastrous quarrel she hadn't been able to escape him quickly enough.
But now she missed him. She'd use the good captain to help her get passage across the channel. She'd make a token visit to her parents, then hurry back to Nassau.
And Charles Vane.