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  “It’s not much.” Walter grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you don’t try anything, Badeau will learn he can trust you. Then maybe he’ll move a lamp and a few other things in here to make it more comfortable.”

  Was this going to be Brian’s future? Hidden in a tiny cell in a basement? At least he was too tired to care that night. Even the narrow bed looked inviting.

  ❧

  Three of the pirates brought the women’s trunks into the suite and placed them in the dressing areas off each bedroom. After they left, Angelina and her aunt took out only enough clothing to last them for a week. She hoped, by then, Brian would figure out how to rescue them.

  Elena came through her bedroom door. “Angelina,” she said in a hushed voice. “Are you wearing the petticoat with the jewels?”

  She nodded. “Do you still have the money in yours?”

  “Yes, mi ángel.” Her companion led the way into the dressing room. “I think we should hide the petticoats in the bottom of our chests again.”

  She helped Angelina fold her petticoat with the jewels tucked inside it, then placed it in one of the chests. Together, they repacked all of Angelina’s extra clothing on top. Then they went into Aunt Elena’s dressing room and did the same thing with the petticoat containing the money.

  After they returned to the sitting room, Angelina heard a knock on the main door to the suite but didn’t hear a key in the lock. “Who’s there?” she asked.

  Brian’s voice came from outside the room. “Walter would like to bring our supper up here.”

  Angelina opened the door and smiled at Brian. Though fatigue painted his face, he smiled back. She had seen how many trips he had made up the hill from the bayou with burdens on his back. She wanted to reach up and smooth the lines on his forehead but knew she shouldn’t. “Are you alone?”

  “No.” He nodded toward one end of the hall. “Walter is waiting for an answer.”

  Angelina stepped into the hallway enough to peek around the door and see the Englishman standing at the top of the stairs. “Gracias,” she said to Brian. He smiled. “Please tell him we would like to eat now so we can get to bed soon. Aunt Elena and I are very tired.”

  Brian turned and relayed the message in English to Walter. Then he stepped through the open doorway. “This looks comfortable,” he said, studying the suite.

  The door closed, and the key turned in the lock, reminding Angelina once again that she was a pirate’s prisoner.

  “It’s really quite nice.” Angelina led the way to one of the closed doors. “We each have our own bedroom.” She opened the door so he could see.

  Brian glanced inside. “Badeau is building quite a house here, isn’t he?”

  Angelina sat in one of the chairs in the parlor. Elena had handwork spread around her on one of the settees, so Brian took the other chair.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll have to be here.” Brian frowned. “Everything is under heavy guard. At least you’ll be comfortable. . .if Badeau doesn’t do anything to harm you.”

  “Do you think he will?” Angelina shuddered. The man was a vicious pirate, no matter how well he had treated them. “He hasn’t done anything bad to us yet.”

  Brian’s eyebrows drew together in a troubled frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re right. I don’t think he will bother you.”

  Angelina looked at her hands in her lap and noticed numerous wrinkles in her skirt. After all they’d been through, she must look an awful mess. Wanting to look her best for Brian, she rubbed at her skirt, trying to flatten out the wrinkles. It was little use.

  “Do you know where you will be sleeping?” she asked.

  Brian didn’t want to upset Angelina. He knew she wouldn’t be happy about his new cell. “Downstairs.”

  “Are there bedrooms on the lower floor?”

  Brian scratched his beard, trying to think of a way to make his accommodations sound better. “There are some rooms in the basement.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

  Angelina stared at him a moment as if trying to read his expression. “What kind of rooms?”

  He propped his foot on his knee. “All the pirate booty is stored in one of the basement rooms. Food is stored in others. The cook came down and got some supplies while we were unloading the ship. I’m staying in. . .another room.”

  Angelina stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you in a cell?”

  Brian sighed. She certainly was a stubborn woman. But he liked that. “Badeau doesn’t trust me, so of course he’ll lock me up. It’s a cell, but not as bad as the brig on the schooner.”

  She crossed her arms over her stomach. “How is it better?”

  “There’s a window, so I have sunlight. And I’ll be able to sleep on a bed instead of the floor.”

  Elena gasped. Brian saw a look of sadness cover the woman’s face before she looked away.

  Tears glistened in Angelina’s eyes. “Oh, Brian, we are in so much trouble.”

  He stood and gathered her into his arms, and she sobbed quietly. Brian was glad to comfort her, although he would have preferred to hold her when he didn’t need a bath so badly.

  Seven

  Arturo de la Fuente couldn’t help worrying about the Estrella Angelina. According to his calculations, the ship should have arrived in Spanish Florida by now. Even if there was a lot of stormy weather when they crossed the Atlantic Ocean, it shouldn’t have been delayed this long. Every time a ship came into port, he inquired if they had sighted his merchant vessel. But he always received a negative answer. He worried about the merchandise he needed to restock the store, but more than that, he anguished about his beloved daughter. His life would have no meaning without her. Ever since his wife’s death, Angelina was all he lived for. Why had he let her go to Spain to visit her grandparents? At the time, it sounded like a good idea, but if anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

  His right-hand man, Brian O’Doule, was also on his flagship. The Irish sailor was like a son to him. Arturo pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache pounded between his eyes. He turned back to the open ledger in front of him. The figures were beginning to run together. He closed the large book and slid it on the top shelf under the counter.

  The bell above the door jingled. Arturo looked up to see who was coming into his establishment. The tall stranger with graying hair walked with the rolling gait of a man who spent his life on the ocean. He had the commanding presence of a sea captain, but instead of sailing clothes, he wore a fashionable suit.

  The man came straight toward the main counter, not even glancing at any of the merchandise.

  “How may I help you?” Arturo moved around the end of the polished wooden counter and approached the newcomer.

  “Are you Mr. Fuente?” A frown wrinkled the stranger’s brow.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Roger Cabot. I wonder if I could take you to supper after the store closes.”

  The man’s troubled expression indicated that he carried a heavy load on his soul. People often arrived in town without knowing anyone, and Arturo always tried to make anyone who came into the store feel welcome.

  “Would you like to eat at my home? My housekeeper is the best cook in St. Augustine. And she always prepares enough food for several people, even when there’s just the two of us at a meal.”

  Mr. Cabot fingered the lapels on his suit. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “I’d be honored to share my evening meal with you.” Arturo held out his right hand. “Besides, if you don’t help me eat it, Bridgett will have to make up a food basket and find someone else who needs the food.”

  With a grave smile, the man took the proffered hand and shook it. “I would be honored to be a guest in your home. Where do you live, and what time should I arrive?”

  Arturo returned the man’s smile. “Actually, it is about time to close the store. Since there aren’t any other customers, I’ll lock up now.” He started toward the f
ront. “I own the house behind the store.”

  After he secured the door and pulled the shades on the front windows, Arturo led Mr. Cabot through the storeroom to the back door. They walked across the walled flower garden that separated the two buildings. A profusion of colorful blossoms draped along the retaining wall and clustered beside the door to the adobe dwelling. The flowers made Arturo think of Angelina, and for a moment, worry for her flooded his mind.

  When Arturo opened the door to his house, enticing fragrances of roasting meat and hot bread met them. The two men made their way through the salon to the dining room.

  “Bridgett, please set another place. We have a guest.” Arturo gestured for Mr. Cabot to sit in the chair beside his own.

  Bridgett bustled into the room carrying an extra plate and glass. After she put them in front of the visitor, she hurried to the kitchen and returned with a white napkin and silverware.

  “Sure and I’m glad that Mr. Fuente has someone to share his meal.” She gave Mr. Cabot a broad smile before she left to fetch the food.

  As they consumed their supper, the two men discovered a lot about each other. The stranger was indeed the captain of a whaling ship. He was from New England in the United States. Arturo told him how he had come from Spain to Florida and established his business. He even mentioned his beloved wife, who was buried in the garden, and the fact that his daughter had gone to Spain to visit his wife’s parents.

  “What is a whaling captain doing so far south, Mr. Cabot?” Arturo wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and scooted his chair back from the table. “I thought men like you spent most of your shore time farther north.”

  Roger cleared his throat. “I hate to bring bad news at the end of such a good meal, but I think I have something that belongs to you.”

  Arturo leaned forward. “What could you possibly have of mine?”

  Mr. Cabot stared off into the distance. “As my ship was coming back to port with a full hold of whale oil and blubber, we happened across a field of debris in the Atlantic several nautical miles east of here. Bits and pieces of wood were scattered here and there. The farther north we went, the more debris we encountered. Finally, we found a couple of bodies.”

  A sharp pain lanced Arturo’s heart. He didn’t like to hear about anyone being lost at sea, and the thought introduced a new fear. What if the Estrella Angelina were also lost?

  “We pulled them aboard and then gave them a decent burial at sea. Then we came across the thing that has led me to seek you out.”

  Arturo swallowed the lump of fear that was growing in his throat. “What was it?”

  “A piece of wood with the words Estrella Angelina painted on it.”

  Arturo clutched his hands in his lap to keep from grabbing his chest.

  “We needed to get back to our home port as quickly as we could, so we kept sailing. After arriving in Boston, I took care of our load, paid my crew, and greeted my family. Then I set out to find the owner of the Estrella Angelina. That search led me here. It was your ship, wasn’t it?”

  A sob clogged Arturo’s throat. “Was one of the bodies you found. . .a woman?”

  “No.”

  The man’s whispered words pierced Arturo’s heart. “My. . .only daughter. . .was on that ship.”

  Eight

  In the week since their arrival at the plantation house, Brian came every day to eat with Angelina and her aunt. For the evening meal, Etienne Badeau also joined them. Angelina enjoyed breakfast and dinner when the pirate wasn’t there. Even though he was the perfect gentleman every time he came, supper with him was always uncomfortable.

  Angelina didn’t have to wonder what the pirate captain did with the rest of his time. Most days, sounds of hammering resounded through the clearing near the house, and she often stood on the balcony watching the pirates working on the additional rooms. Even though she couldn’t often see Badeau from her vantage point, she heard his thundering voice shouting orders to the men who worked on the building.

  She especially looked forward to the noonday repast, when Walter left Brian with them longer than at the other two meals. They discussed their childhoods, and Angelina felt as if she knew him well. For a man who traveled the world with rough sailors, Brian showed a certain refinement.

  Besides the time when they were eating, the women spent the rest of their day sitting in the suite of rooms or on the balcony outside.

  For most of the day, the balcony was shaded, so Angelina spent quite a bit of time out there. She needed to breathe the fresh air after the close confinement on the pirate ship. Of course, the air here felt heavy with moisture, and during the middle of the day, it was too hot to be out, even in the shade.

  Angelina wiped the perspiration from her brow with her handkerchief and got up from the low chair on the balcony. She parted the sheer silk curtains and entered the parlor. “Isn’t it about time for dinner?”

  Aunt Elena glanced up from her embroidery just as a knock sounded on the door. “I believe you’re right.” She folded the edges of the pillow cover she was working on and placed it in the basket beside her feet. She patted a few errant curls back into place as if she wanted to look her best for Brian.

  Angelina crossed the room and opened the door. “Is that fresh bread I smell?”

  Brian followed Walter into the room. Each man carried a tray.

  “Yes.”

  “We must be near the kitchen, because I can smell everything that’s cooking. It makes me ravenous by the time the food is served.”

  Brian repeated what they said in English for Walter.

  In this house, Walter had become a different person. Instead of a junior role, as he had on the schooner, he was in charge of running the household. He carried all the keys, and Angelina often observed him giving orders to some of the other pirates who worked in the mansion.

  Walter set the food on the table by the settees and backed out of the room, locking the door.

  Just after he exited, a loud boom echoed through the house, causing Angelina and her aunt to jump.

  “I wonder what that was.” Angelina put her hand on her chest, trying to still the frantic beating of her heart.

  “I don’t know.” Brian sat on the settee opposite from the one where the women sat. “We can ask Walter when he returns.”

  Brian lifted a bowl toward his face and took a sniff. “What do you suppose this soup is made from? It doesn’t smell like chicken or beef.”

  Angelina dropped onto the settee beside Aunt Elena. “I don’t care what it is. It smells good, and I’m hungry.”

  She grabbed a thick slice of warm brown bread, already slathered with butter, and took a bite. The rich flavor melted in her mouth. She took a spoonful of the soup. “You’re right. This doesn’t taste like anything I’ve ever had before. I hope it isn’t one of those awful alligators.”

  Brian looked up from his food. “Walter told me to ask if you needed anything.”

  “We need to launder our clothing,” Aunt Elena said before Angelina could answer.

  “One of the sailors takes care of the washing for the men.” Brian took a bite of the bread. “Maybe he could do yours, too.”

  Elena’s eyes widened, and she pulled one hand close to her throat. “We don’t want a sailor handling our unmentionables.”

  Brian put his food down. For a moment, a flush of red covered his cheeks. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  Elena reached over and patted his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ll ask Walter if something can be done.”

  “Thank you.” Elena picked up her glass of water and took a sip.

  “Brian.” Angelina looked into his bright blue eyes. “What do you do all day? I hope they don’t keep you locked in that cell all the time.”

  Brian stood and ambled over to gaze out the open door of the balcony. “I’m let out of the basement whenever Badeau has a job for me. He has me take food to the men working on the house. I occasionally help with the
yard or the laundry. I’ve even helped with the construction, even though I have never had experience as a carpenter. Sometimes I feel like a slave, but at least I get out in the sunshine for a while.”

  Angelina wished she hadn’t asked.

  When Walter returned to collect the empty dishes and take Brian back to his cell, Brian asked, “What kind of soup did we have today?”

  “Turtle.”

  It was all Angelina could do to keep from reacting to what the man said. She couldn’t let him know she understood his words. But how could anyone eat turtles? They lived in dirt and slime. Of course, eating a turtle might be better than eating one of those horrible giant lizards that lived in the swamp around them.

  Brian turned toward the women. “Walter says it’s turtle soup.”

  His smile at Angelina’s gasp told her he guessed what she was thinking.

  She glanced toward Walter. “I have another question. Please ask him what that loud noise was that we heard earlier.”

  Brian translated as he helped Walter gather the dishes onto the tray.

  Walter stared at him a minute, then shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. The two men from your ship who joined Badeau’s crew got tired of working on the house. They told the captain they wouldn’t do it anymore.”

  “What happened to them?” Brian asked, following the Englishman to the door.

  Walter’s answer drifted back into the room before he closed and locked the door. “Badeau shot them.”

  Angelina grabbed Aunt Elena and clung to her. Brian hadn’t translated the Englishman’s words, but Angelina understood every one.

  “What’s the matter, mi ángel?” Her companion patted her back to soothe her.

  Angelina debated whether to tell her aunt. She didn’t want to upset the woman further. But she thought it important that her aunt know the truth about their barbaric captor. “Badeau shot the two traitors from my father’s crew.”

  Aunt Elena’s face went white, and she clutched Angelina tighter. “God rest their souls.”

  How could the pirate captain be so nice to them and so ruthless with other people? Only a monster could kill people in cold blood. She would have a harder time than ever not revealing her contempt for him the next time he came into her room. But what would he do if she couldn’t hide her disgust?