Zoe Page 21

  “Is she a relative? ” snickered Sheridan. Zoé ignored the comment. The woman dropped her head, realizing she stared too long, and walked quickly ahead of them. Zoé flinched when Sheridan grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. “Come on. We’re late!!”

  Sheridan, dressed in all his finery, was followed by Zoé, who looked exceptionally beautiful. She wore the lavender gown that she had on the day Marianne discovered her with La Roque. The bodice, beaded with lavender stones, sparkled when the light caught it. No matter how dismal she perceived her future to be, at this moment, to look upon her was a pleasure. It troubled her deeply because the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. She had tried to curl her hair with the iron and candle but Sheridan was impatient so she pinned it up and put curls around the front.

  When she neared the corner, she actually saw a woman for the first time on the ship. Une mûlatresse like herself, who looked to be no more than Marianne’s age, wore a tattered sack for clothing and no shoes. Her hair was raven black and straight. Her lip was cut and Zoé saw bruising around her EF

  When they stepped on the deck, the ocean breeze greeted her. It was a refreshing relief from the stale sick smell of their cramped quarters. Men busying themselves with their duties stopped and gawked at them. Zoé was aware of Sheridan sticking his chest out as if he had a prize mare at his side.

  Revolted by even standing near him she tried to concentrate on the massive sails flapping in the wind. She could feel the sway of the boat as it raced along the ocean, and she became overwhelmed at how vast the blue waters were. Ignoring the evil looks shot her way, she grabbed at Sheridan’s arm as he led her to the Captain’s cabin that sat up on the deck.

  “Gentlemen,” greeted Sheridan as they entered the Captain’s quarters. Zoé immediately scanned the faces of the men. She relaxed when she saw Douglas with the slave girl, preparing the meals.

  Captain Delaflote rose. “Please join us. Allow me to introduce you.”

  Zoé held back. Delaflote introduced Sheridan to the men gathered, a New Yorker and two other Southern men from Georgia and Mississippi, all having business ties with the lecherous captain.

  She looked up to see the one good eye of the Captain focused on her, and averted her eyes once more.

  “Do you wish your nigger to eat? ” he asked.

  Sheridan took a seat. “If she wishes.”

  The Captain stared at her a little longer. He then pointed to a chair at the other end of the room. Zoé turned and went to take a seat. Immediately the slave girl hurried to her with a plate. Zoé looked into her expressive brown eyes and smiled, touching her hand affectionately.

  “Enjoy missus.” The slave girl bowed and backed away.

  Zoé looked toward the men, now all speaking at once, to see the Captain staring silently. His serpent-green eye, the one that wasn’t covered by a patch, gleamed with malevolent intent, and she really began to fear if she’d survive the voyage. Then Zoé realized what he was doing: Delaflote was toying with Sheridan. The further they drifted to sea, she knew this game would come to a torturous end. Returning her attention to her plate and eating from her lap, she banished the thought. She could not dwell on what was to come. Her survival depended on her gathering her strength to find ways to endure the moment.

  A shipmate came in to announce that there was another ship east of them. The Captain shrugged. “We’re in the Atlantic, not surprising in these waters. Keep an eye out for the flag.”

  EF Jean-Claude walked over to La Roque, who was leaning on the rail and looking into the ocean, “Mon seigneur, if I may, Zoé is very strong.”

  “ Oui… she is.” La Roque nodded. He looked over at the lad. “How old are you, son? ”

  “Fourteen, sir,” Jean-Claude said, smiling.

  La Roque looked back into the cobalt-blue sea. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me. When we reach them, I want you to stay here.”

  “I shall fight at your side,” Jean-Claude said with finality.

  La Roque cast his eyes upward to the young man’s face. “Do you know how to use a sword? ”

  “I have not had a reason to.”

  “Stay close. I shall get you a pistol, but you remain close.”

  Jean-Claude nodded, and turned to look out into the sea. “If I may ask, will you help her, mon seigneur?”

  La Roque’s expression showed his bafflement. Was he not here solely to help his Zoé?

  “I mean to say, will you marry her? ” stammered JeanClaude.

  La Roque was impressed. Zoé had friends who cherished her health and happiness. He decided to indulge the boy in spite of his untoward question.

  “When I get her back I will worship her. She will always be safe with me.”

  8

  La Roque watched the sun set from the deck. He had suffered through a day of waiting and praying that the unspeakable wasn’t happening to her. He understood why they had to wait, but with each passing minute he felt more and more like a coconspirator in the injustices she’d suffered since he’d cornered her that night in his mother’s library.

  A blazing orange sun simmered in a blood-red sky as it sank below the horizon. The vision was beautiful, but he was barely aware of it. His mind was full of images of her. He recalled how she’d tried to sidestep his advances, how she’d foolishly ventured into his room and stood her ground. Then, he had spoken to her about choices, pretending to give her one, knowing full well that she was young and inexperienced. He fed on her innocence and naiveté without thought. Yet, ironically, it was he who had become entrapped and enslaved.

  He had fallen in love with her the moment he felt her soft, silky skin and smelled her sweet breath, the moment she’d given herself innocently, not just because of her virginity, but because of the heat he felt burning inside of her when they connected. The red sky was reminiscent of that fire. Seeing it deepened his worry. He was sickened by all he could lose if Sheridan forced her into his darkness.

  She’d been on that boat for forty-eight hours and that was far too long. He’d made voyages on ships like that and he knew the thirst of the men who worked such ships. He knew that Sheridan was weak; those men would toy with him and make a move to possess her, and there was little that he’d be able to do to prevent it.

  “Me call that sky l’heure du diable,” Ferdinand said, leaning on the edge of the boat and looking toward the setting sun. “The devil’s hour? ” La Roque repeated.

  “God’s plans for man have set and the devil rises for his

  due.” La Roque looked into Ferdinand’s dark, penetrating eyes, and saw a pain that mirrored his own. The loss of family and love, the empty feeling of regret and guilt, the bottomless anger toward those who benefited from their suffering: they’d both known those experiences.

  “Will we have our due? ” La Roque asked. “Aye we shall.” Ferdinand smiled and his gold tooth glistened.

  La Roque’s gaze returned to the direction of Delaflote’s ship. It was no more than a tiny dot under the sun, which had been all but swallowed by the royal blue sea. “Do you think she has been able to survive? ”

  Ferdinand shrugged. “She’s a Negress on a ship with demons. Be prepared for what we find, that… ye may not find her in the way… No, we may not be able to save her.”

  A glazed look of despair swept across La Roque’s face. A feeling of guilt overwhelmed him and he knew couldn’t survive if Zoé became a victim of those unspeakable agonies. His father’s madness was real for him now. It was a solid, tangible thing he was able to feel and understand.

  Watching Marcela burn, François La Roque had felt the gravity of his obsession, deciding in that moment that if he couldn’t have her, no one would. That was the madness. We aren’t here to own people, thought La Roque. Or force our desire and will on others to feed our own selfish hearts and needs. Women weren’t accessories. They weren’t instruments for pleasure, to be used and discarded at a man’s whim.

  La Roque discovered the truth. When he took Zo
é to his bed, he hadn’t been looking for a wife. He knew her lot in life would require her to have a husband if she hoped to be happy. He hated to admit that he took her without concern for the price she would pay. He’d forced her to be his in the most selfish and unrelenting way, making her succumb to a passion that engulfed both of them, but left him unable to understand it all.

  He’d gotten his wish. In a way she was already Sheridan’s mistress, with no man to protect or cherish her, just Sheridan, a devil of a human being who could now be abusing and robbing her of that purity and spirit he loved so much.

  “If she is dead or void of hope, then every man on that ship will die.”

  “Dat is a problem.”

  The muscles of La Roque’s face tightened. “What problem? Dispensing of them? ”

  “No, me plan is to have Delaflote’s head tied right dere.” He pointed to the top of a staff, some eighteen feet high, where his ship’s flag now whipped in the wind. “We discuss our approach. Now dat the sun has set, we are closer to dem. Dey should know that we are shadowing dem, which may have dem alarmed. We must act as if dey are.”

  La Roque’s hair blew across his face in the night breeze and he stared in the dark at Delaflote with a mixture of determination and fear. “I understand.”

  “We can’t risk getting too close. So, for our approach, we will take three of my smaller boats to approach with all me men. We will leave in an hour when nightfall is complete.” He paused. “That leaves but one concern.”

  “And that is? ”

  Ferdinand turned and nodded across the beam of the ship. La Roque followed his gaze and saw Jean-Claude, listening intently as two of his men argued about their adventures at sea. The boy was totally enthralled. He laughed when the men charged each other and locked arms to wrestle over their differences.

  La Roque looked back at Ferdinand. “We give him a pistol. He will know what to do.”

  Ferdinand disagreed. “We don’t just face men of different positions than us. We face the evil that lives in men. We are outnumbered and gunned. Each man who takes dis voyage tonight understands that he may not return, and he accepts it.”

  La Roque sighed. “I spoke to him, and he wants it—”

  “Then ye convince him otherwise, because I won’t be held back by fear of another child becoming a victim of Delaflote’s evil ways.”

  “He’s fourteen and not—”

  “He is the same age as was me brother! The same age as when we tried to fight back and Delaflote slit his throat right in front of me! The boy shan’t join us on this rescue!”

  Ferdinand hardened his stance. La Roque understood his point. He didn’t want the destruction of the man-child, adventure-seeker or not, on his hands.

  EF “ Monsieur, would you like me to go to the galley to get you something more to eat? ” Zoé was desperate to get away from Sheridan. Yes, there was danger on the ship but after the near-rape and the constant taunts, she was beginning to realize the danger was just as real inside her close confines with him. Besides, she wanted to thank Douglas for saving her the previous night. However, Sheridan’s suspicions held.

  “What is this thing with you and the cook? ” Zoé saw what he was implying and understood that his mind could not comprehend the goodness in others without seeing some suspected purpose. “Monsieur, he reminds me of papa. It’s comforting,” she said honestly.

  Sheridan leaned back on his cot and smiled without warmth. “So you miss home? ”

  She nodded, looking down.

  “Well, then, I shall allow this request—”

  “You will? ” She was shocked.

  “I want some more ale. Go tell your friend the cook!” His eyes darkened with anger.

  “He was kind to me. That’s all, I swear it,” she offered meekly.

  He regarded her with suspicion for a moment longer. Then an evil smirk formed on his lips. “He must like dark meat as well? ”

  Zoé looked away and remained silent. Sheridan dismissed her. “If your intentions were evil, you could have carried them out as I lay here suffering. It’s my reward to you for saving my life.”

  “Oh, merci,” she cried and rushed to the door, excited about her freedom.

  “No more than twenty minutes. Then you come back and entertain me. There are many ways you can please me, Zoé. When you return I’ll show you how.”

  She didn’t want to imagine what her fate would be. Just one look into his eyes made her feel ill. She nodded and left hastily.

  EF Jean-Claude saw La Roque approach. He rose up from his seat on a small crate and walked over to him, smiling. “Is it time to go? ”

  “ Non. We must talk.”

  “Oui, mon seigneur.”

  La Roque walked away from the men with his hands

  clasped behind his back, contemplating his delivery of the news. Turning, he saw Jean-Claude clearly for the first time, saw his youth, his innocence. The boy had removed his wig, revealing his thick blonde curls. He still wore the footman’s uniform he had on when he’d fetched the count.

  “You cannot join us on this mission,” said La Roque. Jean-Claude frowned. “But why not? ”

  “It is important that you guard this ship. We are taking

  smaller boats to access the ship, and we need you here.” La Roque hardened his expression to show the finality of his decision.

  “I will stay behind,” Jean-Claude said meekly.

  La Roque had expected the boy to protest further, so he was surprised and relieved when Jean-Claude acquiesced. He smiled and touched the boy’s shoulder.

  “Good.”

  A life saved, thought La Roque. It was a good feeling.

  EF

  “Captain.” Delaflote stood on the upper deck of his ship, discussing their course with his navigator. Hearing a shipmate call out to him, he turned and glared at him.

  “What is it? ”

  “That ship we discussed earlier…”

  Delaflote frowned and narrowed his one good eye on the

  young man. “What ship? ” Mathieu, a twenty-two-year-old scallywag, was responsible for sitting up in the crow’s nest eighteen metres above the deck and keeping an eye out for other ships, both those that they could threaten and those that could threaten them.

  “Earlier, sir, I told of a vessel off the eastern bow. It was in our shadow mostly.”

  Delaflote scowled. “You never said it was shadowing us.”

  Mathieu swallowed hard. “I didn’t think it to be true at the time, but the ship should have moved off by now.”

  Philippe, the second-in-command, walked up to Delaflote . “We are in the clear, sir. Even if it is following us, it has no hope of getting nearer to us without being spotted. I suggest we investigate in the morning, if it’s still there.”

  Delaflote ran his fingers over his knotted beard and thought it over. “Very well.”

  Philippe turned to go. Mathieu started after him, but Delaflote grabbed the boy by the arm.

  “Stay at the ready all night and watch for any suspicious activities in the water.”

  Mathieu nodded nervously. Delaflote himself scanned the horizon. He had a feeling, a bad feeling.

  It was going to be a long night.

  EF Zoé turned the corner hurriedly, happy at the thought of seeing Douglas, and ran smack into a crewman.

  “Pardon,” she whispered, putting a hand to her chest and falling back a step.

  “Hell’s bells! If it ain’t the nigger princess!”

  He had cold, dark brown eyes. He smelled so bad that she held her breath against the stench. His hair was black and matted. He had a rough, shaggy beard, and his pockmarked face was a leathery nut brown from constant exposure to the sun. He stood at her height, but was muscular beyond belief. He put a filthy finger with dirt caked up under his nail to his lips and smiled, revealing rotten teeth.

  Zoé turned to run, but the he immediately grabbed her up and clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling her screams. She kicked and swung
at him, but to no avail. He dragged her toward the side ladder, taking her to the dreadful belly of the ship.

  She was thrown into a dark, dank room. Landing on the floor, she hurt her hand as she tried to brace her fall. Looking up, she saw the dirty feet of six women. They were huddled together, their expressions terrified, their eyes shifting between Zoé and her kidnapper. He grinned at Zoé and wagged his index finger at her.

  “You stay here, sweet peach. I’m going to go get the boys so we can break you in.” He glanced at the other women, gave them a wink and then stepped out, bolting the door behind him.

  She saw how abused and emaciated some of the women were. The sight of them broke her heart. They all wore the same potato-sack dresses, and most were peppered with bruises. One of them looked no older than twelve.

  “I am so sorry,” Zoé said.

  The woman she met earlier stepped forward with a deep frown. “Why should you apologize? You did not put us here. We must find a way to protect you.”

  “Protect me? ” They needed to protect themselves.

  The woman smiled. “My name is Sheba,” she said, bowing.

  Zoé realized by the way that they responded to her and her appearance that they thought she was some type of lady. She smiled and extended her hand. “Je m’appelle Zoé Bouchard. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

  Sheba, shook her hand and introduced her to the women. Most of them spoke only their native African language, but smiled at her, anyway.

  Sheba glanced at the door. “They will be back, and it will be bad. We must help you.”

  Zoé shook her head. “No. We must help each other.” An African broke away from the group and ran to Zoé’s side. “Madame? ” she asked, helping Zoé up.

  “I am fine. Merci.”

  EF

  La Roque took a moment to roll his shoulders, trying to relax his muscles. He and the other men had been rowing for what seemed like an eternity, and every muscle in his back ached, yet he kept at it, determined to pick up speed. The blackness of the cloudy night made it hard to be sure they were going in the right direction. He said another prayer for her and pulled harder.