Slowly, very slowly, so slowly it was almost reluctantly, Charles was lacing up Cathy's gown. He would straighten material with every tug of the lace, insisting on brushing aside—again—Cathy's mane of long hair. Every so often he would touch his lips to her silken back, warning her that if she were not careful, her dress would soon be lying on the floor from where she had just picked it up.
"I want to find my brother." The pronouncement startled Vane, who had been sure that with careful persuasion he could remove the dress and delay her departure back into town.
"What did you say?" he said, intending to break her concentration and put it back on him. "How would you do that? How would you find where he is?"
How indeed, Cathy thought. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "I thought about trying to find out if any of the newly arrived captains have heard of a sea battle off the coast of Florida. There hasn't been any news. Trying at Port Royal or Santa Domingo, wouldn't do any good, they're too far away. And I want to avoid the Royal Navy's ships on general principle, especially if they find out I'm Flint's sister. The only thing I can think of is to try to retrace his route."
She paused a moment, "I was thinking about hiring a fishing boat. I could bargain them down to a fair price, I think, especially if I pay ahead of time. Half to get me there, half to get me home. After that storm, I don't know what's happened to Flint, but even the Walrus might not have survived. And if there was a battle? Maybe both ships are gone, which would mean they're stranded. If only one ship has survived that means they have to take on the treasure and the full compliment of men. Anyway, he's my brother, and I want to know he's all right."
Unbeknownst to her, the laces were being slowly undone. "The fishing boats here are too small—they only fish off shore. You'd need something bigger. Wherever he is, it's probably a few days' sail, and a small fisherman's boat or skiff won't do. It's better if you let me do this for you," said Vane, having completed his task. Now he was sliding the dress off her shoulders. "I don't want you out there all alone. It's dangerous, and if I hear you went out looking for him I'll..."
"Yes," she interrupted, "I know what you'll do, nothing you haven't done before. I can take care of myself, thank you. I eluded the Spanish, remember? And they still haven't found me. And besides, I know you won't help, I'll be lucky if you let me leave, even luckier if you agree to help me find Flint." She turned to face him, "If it were Eleanor you wouldn't even be objecting, would you? Why you see me as helpless I will never know. My brother doesn't even…"
But she did not get to finish her sentence. He silenced her lips with his while he untied her petticoat and slid it over her hips. He cupped her breast and slid his hand down to her belly as he caressed her neck with his lips.
She turned around and began to undo the buttons on his shirt whispering, "Just for once could you just ask me first?" She pulled his trousers open and slid them to the floor. He kicked them off and carried her back to his bed to begin where he'd left off.
Later, much later, she walked down the hill, painfully aware that he'd tied her laces too tight, something he did when he wasn't happy with her. She was sweet and compliant when it suited her, but after all these years, he should know better. Why she was in love with one of the worst scoundrels in Nassau was beyond her. She had more sense, but with Charles you found something worthwhile if you scratched beyond the surface. All you needed to do was close your eyes to the rest.
When she reached town she went straight to the brothel and knocked on the door. Max answered, a smile spreading across her face as she laid eyes on Cathy.
"Don't tell me, let me guess—a bath after a long and strenuous night with Vane, yes?" She took Cathy's arm and pulled her indoors. "Don't worry, I have just what you need. " She led her to a small room with a stone floor that contained a large wooden tub. "You just wait and have some café, yes?"
She turned Cathy around and began to undo the lacing on her dress. "What do he think he doing, lacing you up so tight? It's like he's leaving his mark 'Vane was here.' I swear, if he could tattoo 'Property of Charles Vane' on you he would. And I never imagined that man would be jealous."
Cathy watched as servants brought in buckets of water and poured them into the tub. "Oh, he's jealous all right, even though he won't admit it. I'm strictly hands off, Eleanor is too. He can't make up his mind between the two of us, so he won't. It's easier for me to look the other way when it comes to her, I've more experience of men than she'll ever have. And somehow we stay friends in spite of him. I'm the one more likely to leave than she is, and for that reason he works harder to keep me, and not take me for granted. He knows damn good and well that if I left him once, I'll do it again."
She soaked for an hour, then Max laced her into one of her own gowns. Cathy promised to return the dress, then she kissed Max goodbye, Max lingering the touch of her lips for too long, as usual. She wandered to Eleanor's offices, and when she was sure Eleanor was alone she wandered into her office and stood by the window and smiled.
"You look terrible," Eleanor giggled, "How much rest have you had?"
"Rest, some; sleep, almost none. He's going to have to learn that when I say I need to sleep, that is exactly what I mean. I swear that man can live on next to no sleep for days, and then he sleeps round the clock and is ready to go again."
"And I bet you mean ready for anything. Well," she held up a bottle and a teacup, "Which shall it be, rum or tea or both?"
"Tea, strong black tea. I'll still sleep this afternoon—maybe I'll start doing siesta like I did in Havana. It might not be a bad idea." She turned and stared out the window, and something she had not seen before caught her eye.
"Eleanor, give me your spyglass." She took it from her, and peered intently through it, "You must see this," she said and handed it to her.
A huge galleon, like a leviathan, was entering the harbor. Cathy came over to Eleanor's side, "Looks more like a Spaniard, doesn't it? The pirates here prefer schooners and brigantines, they're easier to maneuver. Who would choose an unwieldy ship like that? I wonder if they've seen it up at the fort. I don't recognize her, do you? Who do you think she might belong to?"
They watched as the behemoth hove to, and boats began to be lowered. Eleanor looked again through the glass and saw a tiny figure in the prow of the lead boat. Perched on its head, visible even through the tiny spyglass, was a garish red hat. Eleanor handed it to Cathy and she burst out in laughter.
"If she's the captain, she's going to give women captains a bad name. I just wish Flint were here," she said, "I'd love to see the look on his face."
"Behave yourself Cathy, besides you're not the one who has to deal with her, if she is the captain. Whoever and whatever, I hope they have a good haul they're willing to sell—I could use the money, I've got payoffs to make. You can be as nasty as you like, but I've got to play nice."
"Well, you go play nice while I hide out until tonight, besides, I've got to return Max's gown. I'm going to have a good meal and a long siesta, and come out with the twilight like a bat. Perhaps I'll see you at the tavern tonight."
Eleanor sat down in her desk chair, staring out the window. She and Cathy both came from merchant families. Neither was gentry, but that was no bar to advancement in a society where the nobility had become impoverished while the merchant class flourished.
Cathy had had the same formidable education as her brother. She was fluent in four languages, and could converse easily in any. She'd been admitted to the most prestigious salons in Paris, and had met many literary and political figures. She had been presented at the French court and young Louis' regents had ogled the young Englishwoman with the auburn hair, making it plain that if she chose to stay in France, not one but several offers were pending. She'd never have to worry about money again in her life.
"How do you do it?" Eleanor had asked her once, "How do you go through life so absolutely certain that things will go your way? You're never jealous when Charles strays and as you predict, he always comes back. You left Nassau with very little and you come back with a fortune that will last you for life. No one has that kind of luck, yet you seem to."
"Eleanor, I refuse to entertain the thought that things will go wrong. And I'm not reckless, I'm deliberate. I take into consideration the odds of success, and I follow my instincts. I could have married a nobleman, enriched his coffers, and bore his children. I didn't want that. I gambled on Flint coming to get me, I gambled on being able to rob my parents, and then I gambled again when Charles—did what he did, and I left. I believe in myself, as you must, otherwise you wouldn't have backed Flint."
"True enough, Cathy," Eleanor said out loud, "And I bet you will take care of our little interloper. Just don't scare her too much or I may not be able to purchase her prize."
"No worries," Cathy replied, reciting the motto of the island, "I'm going to eat, then I plan on sleeping for hours. Don't look for me until it's well past twilight. It will be nice to be able to sleep without someone waking me up for a change." She turned and went up the stairs to her rooms.
She was dreaming pleasant dreams of drowning the galleon's captain when first knocking, then pounding at her door woke her from a deep sleep. She answered the door, dressed only in her white lawn shift, and saw Max and Eleanor standing at the threshold.
She motioned them in, "What are the two of you doing here? It's barely dark and I'd planned on sleeping a little bit more." She looked over at her clock and saw how wrong she was.
"Come on Cathy," Eleanor spoke up, "There's something going on at the tavern—the little blond captain is there, and she's all over Charles, who, of course, is not discouraging her. Are you going to do anything about it?"
"Of course I'm going to. I suppose the two of you are here to help me?"
"But of course, we've here to get you ready," Max jumped in, "I'm going to put you in your best dress and by the time I'm done Charles will forget all about her. She may be younger than you, but what you have she'll never possess. Where's your dress? Max is gonna work her magic on you, you just wait and see."
Cathy drew a bundle from her wardrobe. The rose silk dress was wrapped in waxed silk to preserve it. She pulled it out, the fabric shimmering even in the candlelight. It had only been worn once, but not for Charles. She closed her eyes, remembering the French privateer who had admired it—then quickly removed it.
Meanwhile, Max anointed her hair with coconut oil and brushed it until it shown. She pulled up Cathy's long heavy locks into a chignon at the back of her head, letting little curls tumble down her back. Max tied the petticoat and skirt around her waist, then laced the bodice loosely, pulling it down to display even more of Cathy's breast.
She slid her hand up the bodice, "See," Max said, "Let him play a little while she watches, which I guarantee you he will. Give him a good look at what he's buying so he'll not be a fool and let you go. Just remember that whatever she has, she's no match for you—you're the most beautiful woman in Nassau and Charles knows it. As soon as you walk into that tavern he won't be able to take his eyes off you, no one will."
Cathy put on her jasmine perfume, and fastened a gold and diamond necklace from her haul around her neck. Max rimmed her eyes with kohl, then dabbed rouge on her lips and cheeks, and led her to the full length mirror to let her look at herself.
A stranger stared back at her, a stranger she had not seen since, well, Paris. "Damn girl, I could eat you up right now," Max said, putting her chin on Cathy's shoulder and her arms around her waist. "I've never seen you like this, you could be the most successful whore in the islands if you wanted to. Men would pay a high price for you, wouldn't they Eleanor?"
"That's not a nice thing to say, Max, but I think you're right. Cathy, I can't wait for Charles to see you." Eleanor would have given anything to see what happened when the little blond captain came face to face with Cathy. Seeing the look on Charles face would be worth it, too. "I want a report, tomorrow, Cathy, all the juicy details, and don't you dare leave anything out!"
Cathy doubted that she would have been able to walk into the inn if it hadn't been for Jack Rackham. He happened to be wandering out, unpleasantly drunk by the look on his face, as she was walking in.
"Well Artemis," he said, "Are you here to blind Actaeon and throw her to the hounds to be torn apart?" His smile showed anything but good will.
She patted him on the cheek, the last pat more of a slap. "Not until I've taken care of you, my dear, but that's for another day. Now, if you don't mind, I have business to take care of." Her dress rustled as she swept past him, blowing him a sarcastic kiss.
She could hear the sound of glasses clinking and male laughter as she entered the tavern. She paused, hesitating for a moment before she entered, seeing for herself the little blond captain practically draping herself over Charles. Not for long, my dear, she thought, that's my man you're trying to steal. Then she walked into the candlelight.
Every man looked up, every man could smell her jasmine perfume as she approached the table. Cries of "Cathy" went up, and they jostled to find her a seat, and get her a glass of rum. She stood at the edge of the table and picked up someone's glass of rum and drained it, so everyone there could take in the sight of her deep décolletage.
She stood at the table, talking and laughing, bathed in the glow of the candles, while Vane sat and glowered when she put her hand on Captain Hornigold's shoulder and laughed at some inconsequential thing he said.
"Actaeon," she thought to herself, "I will strike you blind, or blind Charles to your presence. He's my man and not for your taking, he just needs to be reminded. She looked at Charles and caught his eye, then gave him a little secretive smile. He looked her up and down, looking at her dress, then looking at her like he'd like to remove it.
He withdrew his arm from where it had been resting on the little captain's shoulder as if she'd only been an afterthought. He looked at Cathy and crooked his finger at her, gesturing her to his side, but she raised her eyebrows. Oh no, I'm not that easy, I think, and was going to walk away until she saw him hold out his hand to her. I'm weak, she thought, I'm weak, and I should walk away but both of us know I won't. I can't.
By habit she came to him and he lifted her up by her slender waist and set her on her lap. "I forgive you, this time," she whispered to him, "but don't count on it for next time." She leaned over the table so he could get a glimpse of her cleavage and picked up the bottle of rum, taking a drink from it before filling his glass. She looked over at Actaeon who looked hurt and confused and felt a little sorry for her, but only a little.
Charles drained his glass, then set Cathy on her feet and stood up. "Well, gents, this is it for tonight for me, it's time I took my woman to bed." Cathy tried to slap him, but he held her arms and she smiled tolerantly as occupants of the table laughed. Evidently there was going to be a price for this victory, and she would be the one who paid it.
They left the tavern, arm in arm, and Charles suddenly shoved her down a dark corridor. He shoved her against the wall, and pulling down her bodice, kissed the tops of her breasts and then her mouth and began ruching up the hem of her gown until he could feel the smooth skin of her thigh. Suddenly she felt him inching up the front of her gown and she tried to grab his hand to stop him before it would be too late for both of them.
"No Vane," she said, trying to sound like she meant it, "Not here. Stop." She tried to push him away even though she knew she could not match his strength.
The hand under her skirt was growing bolder. "Yes, here. Here and now." He paused for a moment, then said, "Here and now, or I take you up to your room and remove your pretty Paris gown and turn you over my knee." Both knew what that meant.
She thought for a moment, "You help me find Flint, then yes to the second and I'll even behave myself."
His answer was to drop her skirt and slip an arm around her waist. "And I'm going to do with you whatever I like," he warned and she smiled.
They came out of the corridor and disappeared up the stairs to her rooms. Actaeon emerged from the shadows where she'd been hiding and looked up towards the door where they'd disappeared.
"Good evening, cherie," Max appeared, smoking a long thin cigarette. "I see you've met our Cathy, it is too bad for you that she does not let Charles stray—very often, that is. Evidently this was not one of those times."
"Are they always like that?" Actaeon could not help asking the question.
"Oh yes, always or at least frequently. He wants her wild, reckless, and willing and so she is. She's his partner in every way and he knows that. There's not a man in Nassau who would not have her, so he's always on his guard. There are many beautiful women in Nassau, but there is only one Cathy and she's his and no one else's and he intends to keep it that way. No matter how beautiful you are, cherie, you don't stand a chance." She stubbed out her cigarette and went back into the brothel, leaving Actaeon to ponder her words.