Disclaimer: Still don't own Laurent or his minions. Wish I did, 'cause they're cool. Want pirates. Yarr.
And yes, Kat does put up a fuss about the nightgown. If you ever see the original film, you'd understand. Most worthless lacy thing I've ever seen - off-the-shoulder, yards of skirt, so low-cut it would fall off if she breathed. I have a thing against impractical fancy clothes. ;-)
The clanging of the ship's bell and the loud shouts of the pirates woke Kat the next day. Tortuga, she thought with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The town was well known to be a haven for dangerous cutthroats and pirates—but then, she was traveling with the Barracuda, the worst of the lot. She did her best to struggle out of the nightgown and dressed in her boy's clothing, which was infinitely more comfortable. Her hair was too long to style without the help of a maid, so she simply rebraided it into the long plait that hung past her waist.
When she found a mirror, she almost couldn't believe that it held the reflection of the same girl who'd been dressed in thick brocade and lace only weeks before. Her hair had begun to curl, her skin was rough and dry, and of course she had the unhealed cut on one cheek. But her face was different, somehow…older, wearier. Perhaps a little wiser. Just as she was scrubbing a smudge from her cheek, there was a knock at the door. "Katarina!" came Laurent's disgustingly cheerful voice. "Are you awake and decent?"
"Yes," she called. When he came bounding in the door, she leaned on the railing and looked at him. He had obviously dressed in another cabin of the ship; his clothing was all velvet finery and gold trimmings, complemented by a ridiculously large hat that had been adorned with long ostrich feathers.
She might have laughed—but he did look handsome in those clothes.
Laurent shook his head. "My dear Contessa, you cannot continue to wear such clothing if you are going to accompany me ashore," he said with a smile. Crossing over to the chest he'd opened the night before, he pulled out a mass of lace and delicate fabric. "You should dress to befit your station."
It was Kat's turn to shake her head. "In a harbor town? What a ridiculous notion. That thing would be in tatters before the day's end. I won't wear it—not even if you threaten to throw me out to the crew without it."
For one nerve-wracking moment, Laurent looked as if he might carry out his earlier threat—but then, his lips curved into a wide smile. "I should have guessed that no one with a temper like yours was going to give in so easily. But you're going to wear something better than those rags."
He disappeared for a moment into another room, then came back out carrying a pair of velvet breeches, a silk shirt, and fine leather boots. Kat gaped slightly at him for a moment, then took them with a smile. Here was someone who finally understood her—and she had found him in the most unlikely place of all. "I'll be ready in a moment, Señor," she said.
The trip into Tortuga was one of the strangest Kat had ever taken. For most of the day, she stood near Laurent and watched as he directed the unloading of the goods stolen from the merchant ship. There seemed to be hundreds of the same rough and seasoned men that she'd seen on the Barracuda, all clamoring up and down rigging, or carrying chests and boxes about the docks, or bringing aboard new provisions of food and water. It was fascinating, and she hardly noticed that the midday meal someone handed her consisted of stale bread and hard cheese. She didn't care, not when there was so much to see. Some of the men looked at her with confusion, or amusement, or even outright bawdiness, but no one bothered her when they saw that she was with the Barracuda. There were some advantages to the infuriating man, after all. When the afternoon dragged on into evening, he called out to his men, "All of you who want to collect your pay, meet me at the sign of the Turtle by nightfall!" A cheer went up from the crowd, and the work pace all but doubled.
On the way to what she assumed was going to be a tavern, Laurent pointed out all the different parts of the bustling seaport to Kat. She didn't mind that it was loud, dirty, and dangerous. The experience was too vivid, too heady to think about danger. This was living; this was what she had always secretly hoped for, but never been able to have.
The tavern, when they reached it, was the loudest and rowdiest of all the places she saw. There were so many sailors there that Kat couldn't even begin to count them, and all of them were eating, drinking, or dancing to the nautical music being played. When Laurent walked in, he was greeted with cheers and laughter. Everyone seemed to know and respect him; most of them were curious about Kat, but he ignored them and pulled her through the crowd. When they reached the largest table in the place, she noticed that there was a rather drunk man—dressed in clothing that might have once been as fine as Laurent's, but was now faded—sitting at the head. Others were shaking him, obviously trying to get him to move, but he ignored them. Kat guessed that the seat was usually reserved for the Barracuda, and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble.
Laurent strode up to the table, still pulling her, and flung his hat down onto the stained wood. The drunken man looked at it, up at him, then levered himself out of the seat and went to stand in a corner, glaring. Laurent pulled out the chair—but instead of sitting in it himself, offered it to Kat as any courtly man might have done for a lady. She sat, surprised, and confused, and sneaked a glance at him. Laurent was laughing and clapping another man on the shoulder, and exchanging loud greetings with others. The Barracuda was obviously in his element, but he was still different from the rest of the buccaneers who filled the tavern. He had something about him, something of honor and breeding that Kat instinctively recognized. After all, she had spent her entire life among people who idealized those qualities in a man.
Abruptly, the noise in the tavern died down, and Kat could hear footsteps coming down the stairs that led to the upper floors. She twisted in her seat in time to see a woman with short curly hair, dressed much the same as she—in breeches, shirt and boots—leaning over the rail. She wore a sword and dagger, both well used, and Kat guessed that this was not a woman to be trifled with.
"Well, rip me if it's not the Barracuda!" she shouted, heading for Laurent. When she reached him, the woman thumped him on the chest, then pulled him into a kiss. Kat kept quiet and watched, uncertain of what to do. When the woman broke away, she looked Laurent over, pulling back the front of his coat as if searching for something. "Well, where is it?" she demanded.
"Sorry, I didn't bring one this time," Laurent said with a smile.
"No lace nightgown? Laurent, you worthless dog. Who's been keeping his feet warm?" she called out into the room jokingly. There was a little laughter—then, the woman noticed Kat sitting in the Barracuda's chair. "What's this?" she asked acerbically.
Laurent put a hand on Kat's shoulder. "May I present my friend Anne Bonnie? This is the Contessa Katarina del Arrigantora, Anne." Kat nodded politely to the older woman.
Anne snorted. "A Contessa!" she said, then laughed. "He says it's a Contessa! She's a small fish for such a big title, that's for sure. You'd do better to throw her back, Laurent." She turned an appraising eye on Kat. "Well? Is it true?"
Kat stood and looked unflinchingly into Anne's eyes. "It is."
Anne shook her head and punched Laurent lightly in the shoulder. "You Dutch codfish! If there was a drop of honest blood in you I'd let it out at your throat. All these months I've known you—I thought you'd have more sense than to pick up a lady—and a lady like this! She'd not last a moment at sea!"
Her comments were met with laughter, and she continued. "I'll bet you got that cut from a hairpin!" Anne took Kat's chin in a mocking grip. "Before I kept you, I'd have a look at your teeth!"
Kat wouldn't stand for it any more. She'd had enough of being insulted by this smug woman. She flung the hand away from her chin, whipped back her arm, and punched Anne in the face as hard as she could. Her action was met with surprised exclamations from the others in the tavern; Anne staggered back, then recovered and drew her sword, leveling it at Kat's head. "Say your prayers, my pretty," she hissed.
Kat stood stock-still as the sword's point came closer, but before it could reach her, Laurent stepped in and grabbed Anne by the shoulders, putting himself between the two. "Stop it, Anne," he ordered.
"I don't need your protection, and certainly not against her," Kat snapped. Laurent broke into a grin, obviously surprised at her reaction.
Anne tried to push free. "As if any of your kind had the courage to fight their own battles!" she spat. "No, you wouldn't—you're the nobility, hiding behind your paid protection! If you've got the guts to say the word, I'll slit you like a pigeon, you—"
"I'm sure you'd much rather fight pigeons, Mistress Bonnie," Kat taunted. "But I'd rather you stand behind your words and fight me instead. Or would you be too spineless to stand the length of the table and face me with a pistol?"
"I've a mind to and a heart to, you poppet!" Anne retorted, still trying to break free of Laurent.
"That's enough," he said, letting Anne go.
She turned and shouted to a man across the room. "What do you say, Jonas Stohler? Am I to be struck by this pigeon without satisfaction?"
"You'll get your satisfaction from me if you want, Anne—" Laurent began, but he was interrupted by the man across the room.
"Well, according to the Orders and Articles of the Brotherhood of the Coast, parties striking each other shall be armed and set ashore for thirty minutes," the man declared; he was obviously the pirate version of a lawkeeper. "Without interference from no other."
"So be it!" the drunken man who had been in Laurent's seat suddenly shouted, stepping out of his corner. "We'll do it by the Articles—without interference!"
"Not so fast, Benjamin!" Laurent said. "This would be no duel—it would be murder!" He walked over to Kat. "Have you ever fired a pistol before?"
She prickled at his comments. "Madre de Dios, Laurent, do you think I'd be stupid enough to demand it if I hadn't?" she demanded irritably.
He shook his head, still doubting her. "Katarina, your honor will be no good to you if you are dead. Shake hands with Anne, drink with us, and be friends." He looked at the other woman. "Anne, for my sake, forgive her!"
Anne still wore a scathing look. "Does she crawl and beg me to?"
"No."
"You're exceedin' your limits!" the man called Benjamin shouted. "You heard what Jonas Stohler said—without interference from no others!"
Laurent thought for a moment. "You're right," he said. "It will be as they wish." He stepped away from the table and called out to two of the spectators. "Your pistols, please." When he had both, he moved away from the crowd and fired both of them into the air. "I will load them—equally," he declared, then set them on a bench in front of the fireplace and went to work with his back turned.
Someone handed tankards to the two duelers; Anne knocked hers against Kat's and quaffed the whole thing in one gulp. Not to be outdone, Kat glared at the smugly smiling woman and tipped hers back. She had to fight not to gag and cough when she swallowed the drink it held—it was ale, and strong at that. "What chance will that snip have?" someone called out from the crowd.
"The same as Anne Bonnie," Laurent said, his back still to them. He turned around and came back over to the two, a pistol in each hand. "Your pigeon has claws, Anne."
"Only eagles have claws," she said sarcastically. "And she's no eagle."
Kat glared at her and folded her arms across her chest. Laurent looked at both of them. "Could you two do without this madness?"
"No," Anne said flatly.
"No," Kat seconded, her tone dripping with enmity.
"Very well then," he replied. "According to the rules, the injured party has first choice." He offered the pistols.
"That's me," Anne declared, taking one, and then stamped to one end of the table. Kat took her weapon and went the opposite way, and the two faced each other. All around them, men backed away to give them room.
"Does either party yield?" Laurent asked.
Both shot a look at him; then, Anne cocked her pistol and rested it against her chest. Kat followed suit with an easy motion. It was heavier than what she was used to, but gave her no trouble. She caught a flicker of surprise in the other woman's expression, and smiled inwardly. Bonnie hadn't been expecting her to know how to handle a gun. "Take aim!" Laurent called. Both raised their pistols. "I will ask once if you're ready and then give the word," he said, then backed out of the line of fire. Kat narrowed her eyes as she looked down the long barrel of the gun, preparing for the shot. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"Ready, my friend," Anne said.
"Ready," Kat snapped.
"Fire!"
Both pistols went off with deafening explosions. At first, there was so much dust in the air that nothing could be seen—too much dust, in fact. Kat checked herself over, but she hadn't been hit; how could that be? She stopped, coughed, then plunked down into a chair miserably, realizing what had happened. Curse that Laurent! she thought.
"You Dutch codfish!" Anne said. "Chimney soot in the pistols!" And indeed there had been, for Kat's entire face was blackened by soot. Anne burst out laughing, then walked over to Kat's end of the table. "I might have known you'd do a trick like this!"
Others standing around them began to laugh—and, Kat was annoyed to see, Laurent as well. She scowled at him, and he clapped her on the shoulder, handing over his handkerchief. Kat snatched it out of his hand and began to scrub at her face with it.
"That'll teach you not to pick anyone who can't see a joke!" Anne Bonnie told him, still laughing.
"I think you're right, Anne!" Laurent said, still grinning. He walked up to Bonnie and rubbed a hand against her face, then pulled it away. "But if I had chosen you—!" he added, showing her the soot on his fingers. She glared at him, then swung a fist toward his face; he ducked back, and she tried again, only to be picked up by a tall pirate from the Barracuda. The man carried her, shouting and kicking, to the opposite end of the room.
Everyone laughed hard and long at the spectacle—everyone except the drunk Benjamin. The laughter suddenly died down as Laurent stared at him. "The joke seems not to your taste, Benjamin."
"You and your Spanish strumpet," the man said, and spat on the floor.
Kat watched Laurent's expression harden. "And what else, Benjamin?"
The man drew his sword clumsily, giving Laurent plenty of time to follow suit. Everyone backed away from the two men. "Take her back where she came from!" the drunkard shouted.
"I am waiting, Benjamin. What's your grievance?"
"Your Contessa, Dutchman. She'll have the Spanish Main upon us. We'll have no more of her—or you!"
Laurent looked about the room. "Does this scum speak for the Brotherhood?" he asked contemptuously. "Are you my jury? Have I been tried?"
Jonas Stolher spoke up. "The Articles say that any man that's asked to hear—"
"You will hear me anyway," Laurent shouted. "What's my offense, truly? Let me tell you—it is that I hate the tyrant. With all my breath and spirit." He paused, glancing at Kat. "In Cartagena long ago, I took an oath, to pry his fingers loose as one man might—till he lost his grasp. So that others coming after me might find the New World that I had sought. Well?" he shouted. "The Spaniard begins to feel us now. His ships go armed, and still he looses them! We even have to find ways now to coax him out to fight!"
He pointed to Kat. "She—his bride-to-be—will bring Alvarado out. And if that's the crime which Captain Black sees fit to charge me with, I plead guilty." He glared about him. "Guilty in the highest degree!"
While he had been speaking, Kat had watched Captain Black edge closer and closer to Laurent. Suddenly, he lunged—and both Anne Bonnie and Kat shouted warnings at the same time.
"Laurent!"
"No!"
The Barracuda had no need of their warnings; he'd been on guard for an attack all through his speech. With a flashing sword he met Black's blade. They lunged and parried and sidestepped back and forth across the floor. The others moved out of their way quickly. Some shouted encouragements, but for the most part they were silent, warily watching the fight. Kat could see, however, that there was no competition involved. Laurent was playing with the older, drunker Black, allowing him to think he had the Barracuda cornered. He could disarm the man at any minute, and she knew it.
The battle ended when Laurent did just that with a clever flip of his sword. He backed Black against a table until he lay on it, and smacked away his hand when the other pirate went for his belt-dagger. Laurent rested the tip of his blade against Black's throat. "Your teeth are chattering, Benjamin," he taunted. "Are you afraid?" He paused. "You can have your life for what it's worth," he continued. "But get out of Tortuga before the morning. I warn you!"
He whipped away his blade and stared at the beaten man for a moment, then strode back over to Kat, who had given up trying to clean off her face. The Barracuda offered her his arm like any nobly born gentleman, then walked with her to the door. "Drink!" he called out, turning around briefly; his shout was met with cheers and the clatter of bottles.
When they were outside, Kat ventured a look at him. This was a man with many sides, one of which she had just seen. And now, she knew why he hadn't killed her or ransomed her off—or at least, she thought she did.