Commanding Heart Part 2

The little talk that did take place all centered on the French prisoners that had been taken after their battle. The men were being held in the brig of HMS Triton and there was much speculation as to what secrets they might reveal. "They've given no explanation, Captain, why they were in these waters?" asked one young lieutenant. Captain Knight did not even look up as he responded in brusque tones: "No. None." The lieutenant missed the hint of danger in his captain's words and blindly continued in his questioning: "But surely there must have been papers on board that contain their mission?" Captain Knight set his wine gla.s.s down with slow deliberation and gave the lieutenant a withering look before stating in the same brusque tones: "No. None." Catherine looked up at the captain's sharp reply and caught an unusual look pa.s.s between her uncle and the captain. She could not be certain but Catherine felt that the two held some secret they were not sharing with the other men. Catherine considered the possibility but was not convinced; Captain Knight was normally open with his men on such matters as affected them all. And yet as the strange tension in the room continued Catherine could not help but wonder if the mysteries of the French ship lay at the heart of the captain's behavior on this night.

After the last agonizing course was over the company began to break up with relief. Catherine stood and received each officer in turn to say her thanks and a final goodbye. She regretted that the atmosphere on their last night was so difficult but she could not shake her discomfort in the presence of Captain Knight. At last, after numerous polite speeches and good wishes from the officers, Catherine, her uncle and Captain Knight alone remained in the room. Matthews clearly felt the same awkwardness as the others and strove to end the situation with equanimity: "Well," he said tentatively, "the morning will soon be upon us. We should bid good night to the captain, Catherine." Catherine nodded her agreement but she did not speak. The three stood in silence until the captain himself spoke: "Yes Matthews. I regret we must make our farewells. But might I first ask for a few moments alone with Miss Gibson?"

Catherine gave a visible start at the captain's request. Matthews saw her distress and was uncertain what to do; he never refused the captain but his niece's discomfort was palpable. He looked from one to the other before finally conceding to the side of duty: "Of course, captain." Matthews said haltingly. Then with a sympathetic look at his niece he continued, "Catherine, I shall wait for you in your quarters." The statement was posed more as a question and Matthews awaited some sign of acceptance from Catherine. She looked very unhappy at his words but gave her uncle a nod of a.s.sent, still unspeaking. The lieutenant cleared his throat then stepped outside, gently closing the door behind him.

Captain Knight moved back to the table and poured himself another drink. Absently he turned and asked Catherine if she would care for a gla.s.s as well. "No," she replied sharply without looking at him. Knight raised his own gla.s.s to her in mock salute and emptied its contents in one swift motion. He held the gla.s.s a moment longer then returned it to the table before turning to Catherine: "I do not wish to keep you, Miss Gibson, but I'm afraid we have something to discuss." Catherine drew in a long shaky breath, her face coloring a deep crimson at the remembrance of the last time she was alone together with Captain Knight. She could not believe that he would be so ungentlemanly as to revisit the unfortunate event. Catherine blinked furiously and looked away, mortified. Before she could speak he continued in cool level tones; "The matter of Tom's sister, Miss Gibson. I thought we should make a plan as to how we will proceed once we reach Jamaica."

"Tom's sister?" Catherine said in relief as she turned to face the captain; "Yes, yes of course. Indeed you are right. We will need some means to... communicate what is required....." Captain Knight nodded in agreement. "I will send inquiries to England through the Admiralty as soon as we reach sh.o.r.e. We should be able to obtain a response rather quickly but there will be items to discuss before all can be arranged. Would it be acceptable for me to visit your father's home when the time comes, or... do you wish to make an alternate arrangement?" he asked carefully. Catherine sensed his meaning immediately: for the captain to show up at her father's home requesting a private interview was certain to raise suspicions on a matter she wished to keep private. "I do not believe that would be wise, Captain Knight" she said with all the grace she could muster, "I fear I may not be... in command of my own time and my own affairs once I am returned to my father." Captain Knight sensed the quiet anger beneath her words as she spoke. He waited patiently until she continued; "I think it would be best if we were to meet somewhere else, away from my father. Somewhere public, of course!" she added quickly, lest he think she was looking for another type of interview with him. "Of course," Knight replied with great civility. "Might I suggest that we meet at Spanish Town Cathedral?" "At a cathedral, Captain?" Catherine asked questioningly. "Yes," he responded; "The cathedral a St. Catherine Parish as it is now called a is a popular attraction and your wanting to visit it should raise no questions... or objections." Catherine saw the wisdom of his suggestion and agreed to his plan. "Very well," Knight said, "Then I shall send word to you as soon as I have news and we can meet at the cathedral to make the necessary arrangements."

Once again, Catherine was completely at a loss to understand this complex man and his motives: at one moment Knight seemed determined to fight with her, the next he was all gentlemanly kindness and a.s.sistance, and at other times..... Catherine felt the hot blush come into her face again at the remembrance of their pa.s.sionate encounters. She wished to give her thanks but a long time pa.s.sed before she could compose her thoughts and speak again. "Captain, I... I appreciate your a.s.sistance... and... your discretion in this matter" she whispered lowly. She stood quietly, uncertain what to say further to this man who had come to mean so much to her, and yet who would soon be gone from her life forever. The enormity of the thought struck Catherine like a physical blow. She rocked on her heels as she stood before Captain Knight, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously, unhappiness writ large all over her face. Captain Knight stepped forward and slowly reached for Catherine's hand, his strong masculine fingers wrapping about hers in gentle embrace: "It is nothing, Miss Gibson," he said, his deep voice rich with unspoken meaning. "I wish only to be of service to you."

At his touch, Catherine felt her firm resolve breaking; she could not bear to continue this interview. She looked down to the darkly tanned hand that enveloped her own with gentle possession. Despite her best efforts, Catherine felt wetness gather on her lashes and a single tear fell, landing on their clasped hands. She heard the captain's sharp intake of breath but before he could speak Catherine pulled free of his grasp. She would not admit her feelings, could not allow Captain Knight any further into her life. With a slight curtsey and a mumbled, "Goodnight" Catherine turned and left the room before her heavy heart could betray her further.

Chapter XV.

The arrival of HMS Triton caused a great stir at the Kingston docks. Word soon spread that the ill.u.s.trious Captain Knight, accompanied by a captured French corvette, had appeared in the early hours, carefully piloted into Kingston harbor by the crew. The sight of the vessels, and the a.s.sembled French prisoners on the deck of the Triton, had officers from Admiralty House quickly making their way to the dock to greet the crew as the ships were made fast.

From the main deck, Catherine watched the meticulous work dockside as all was made secure. The sight would normally have held Catherine spellbound but on this morning her attention could not be caught. She looked absently from one scene to another, her eyes widening with anxiety each time a civilian approached the ship. A slight breeze stirred the air but it was not enough to dispel the great heat that was coming from the island itself. After the refreshing conditions at sea, the close atmosphere of the island was an uncomfortable reminder of the great change about to come to Catherine. Her carefully arranged hair was already feeling heavy and damp along her hairline and even the light cotton dress she had chosen to wear felt constricting and oppressive in the early morning sun.

"What do you think, Catherine?" her uncle's voice came from behind her. Catherine did not turn but continued to scan the dock as she spoke; "I think it is very hot, uncle. I wonder at any civilized person wishing to live in a steaming jungle" she finished bitterly. Matthews stepped closer and gave his niece a quick squeeze of encouragement. "It is not always so;" he responded with optimism. "You are meeting Jamaica at a difficult time of year. Things will be much better when the summer heat abates." Catherine gave a slight nod but showed no sign of conviction at his words. "I am afraid the time of year will do little to improve my opinion, uncle. I meet my new home on very uneven terms."

Lieutenant Matthews knew the course of this discussion would not improve and so sought to change the subject: "Have you spoken to young Foster" he asked kindly. At the mention of Tom's name Catherine's face softened and some of her usual good humor returned: "I have, Uncle" Catherine said with warmth; "We made a very pleasant farewell this morning a Tom promises to write as often as possible and to visit every time he finds himself in Jamaica. He is such a delightful boy, Uncle Matthews - I shall be sad to leave him....."

Catherine trailed off suddenly at the sight of an approaching coach drawn by a team of horses, black as jet. The dark carriage shone like a mirror, winking wickedly in the face of the morning sun as it drew up alongside the HMS Triton's berth. Inside, Catherine could see two stern figures a one older, one much younger a but both with the same haughty bearing. Catherine's whole body stiffened as she saw her father's face for the first time in fifteen long years.

William Gibson had aged considerably in that time, but Catherine recognized the same look of ruthless determination that had darkened her childhood. Gibson stepped from the carriage, arrogance and privilege marking every action as he dismissed the footman and turned to his companion who also alighted from the carriage. The two men shared a rough laugh with one another, and began their way to HMS Triton's gangplank.

Like Catherine, Lieutenant Matthews had recognized William Gibson at once. He felt anger welling up inside of him, not only at the sight of this callous man, but at the unwelcome sight of Gibson's traveling companion. As Matthews' shrewd eye took in the man's fashionable dress and conceited bearing his worst fears for Catherine were realized. Rage burned within him at the helpless situation a there could be no mistaking what this man's presence foretold. "Come" he said to Catherine quietly, and took her by the arm to lead her away. Catherine remained rooted to the spot, unhearing as though in a trance. Matthews watched as the color left her face and an expression of distress crossed her features. After a moment he gave her arm a gentle shake and Catherine returned to herself with effort. "I suppose I should gather my things, uncle" she said, her blue eyes wide and frightened in her pale face. Matthews nodded his agreement and watched her leave the deck for her cabin. He knew Catherine's fate was inevitable but hoped to keep her safe, if only a few moments longer.

Catherine had not long left the deck when a great commotion began at the base of the gangplank. Matthews moved to the side rail as the sound of voices raised in anger carried up to him in the morning air. Below, William Gibson stood bristling as one of the ship's lieutenants refused the man entrance to the ship. Gibson's face was scarlet as he angrily confronted the lieutenant on duty. "I am sorry, sir" the young lieutenant said sharply. "As I said, no one is admitted aboard His Majesty's ship without invitation from Captain Knight. I have had word pa.s.sed to the captain. I am sure he will address your request as soon as is convenient." "d.a.m.n you, you insolent cur!" Gibson roared. "My daughter is aboard that ship at my instruction, and I will d.a.m.n well enter if I choose."

"No, Mr. Gibson, you are mistaken" came the crisp, controlled voice of Captain Knight from above. Matthews and the others watched as their captain made his way across the deck to stand at the top of the gangplank. Knight, dressed imposingly in full uniform, stood unflinching before the two challengers; his polished black boots seemed rooted to the deck and from his vantage point above the men his great height was even further accentuated. He looked down upon Catherine's father with a look of barely concealed contempt. The two men sized each other up a long moment before Captain Knight spoke once more: "Your daughter, Mr. Gibson, is aboard at my discretion, not by your instruction. I am in charge of this vessel and you will conduct yourself accordingly." Knight's words hung in the air like glittering daggers. The hands all paused in their work to see what would transpire next. "Permission to come aboard?" Gibson ground out through clenched teeth. Knight nodded his head in acknowledgement and gave the command for Gibson and his companion to pa.s.s.

On deck, Captain Knight's eyes flashed dangerously as William Gibson and his unknown acquaintance stepped aboard. Gibson roughly shook off the sailor attempting to a.s.sist him from the gangplank and looked around like a madman. His wild stare lit on the figure of Lieutenant Matthews and Gibson lurched towards him shaking with anger. "You arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he hissed, "How dare you allow me to be treated in such a way in front of my business a.s.sociate? You forget who I am, Matthews. You forget the power I hold. You will pay for this dearly..." Matthews' fists coiled in anger but before he could act, Gibson's ranting was suddenly silenced as Knight reached forward and grabbed Gibson roughly by his lapels. Gibson struggled uselessly, looking up at the stoney-faced captain in astonishment. From behind, Gibson's companion watched the encounter coolly, making no move to intervene on his friend's behalf. Captain Knight held Gibson close, every muscle coiled and prepared for action; he seethed with anger as he said, "I will explain the situation to you once again, sir. You are onboard my ship, Mr. Gibson. I am in command. You will conduct yourself appropriately or I will have you thrown overboard. Do we understand each other?" Knight's eyes glittered dangerously, wicked flames burning in their depths as he awaited Gibson's answer.

Gibson straightened and returned the Captain's look, anger boiling in his face. He twisted around, finally noting that the crew, indeed, stood ready to act at a word from their captain. William Gibson saw that if he pushed this powerful man further there was nothing of which Captain Knight was not capable. Like the cunning gambler he was Gibson quickly weighed his options and settled on another tactic: "Captain Knight," he wheedled with false piety, "You, will forgive me of course. It is only a father's loving concern for his daughter that makes me behave with such poor manners." Gibson lowered his head in fatherly concern and continued his charade; "Having my daughter returned to me after so many years apart is a blessing, Captain Knight. Her wellbeing weighs greatly upon me; my only concern, my only wish in life is for her care" he pleaded with feigned sincerity.

Knight listened to this speech with barely concealed disgust but he did at last free Gibson. Knight drew himself up to his full height and remained in front of Gibson menacingly. He clenched his teeth as he looked down at the mean, little tyrant before him, then delivered a withering p.r.o.nouncement: "Against my better judgment, I am about to return your daughter to your care," Knight said with a clipped, measured tone; "but rest a.s.sured, if Catherine ever comes to any harm at your hands, know that I will find you and I will make you sorry you ever drew breath." The force of his words hung between the two men for a long moment until Gibson had the good sense to look away and take a step backwards. His eyes still flashed venom but Knight also saw the awareness that Gibson understood and accepted the ultimatum he had been given.

Into this perilous arena stepped a hesitant Catherine. She had returned to the deck accompanied by young Tom, who carried her valise. The tension onboard was so palpable at their entrance that Catherine instinctively reached out a protective hand and halted Tom in his progress. All seemed to be in suspended animation: Catherine noted the Captain's threatening posture; her father's rumpled appearance and barely controlled temper; and the well-dressed stranger who watched all with sardonic humor. She blanched at the sight, shaking her head in confusion. Catherine turned to Tom and gently removed her valise from his hand. "Stay here" she bade the young boy and moved across the main deck with halting steps. Not a man spoke as she made her way through their ranks to where her father and Captain Knight stood facing one another like prize fighters. Everyone watched in fascination as this strange scene played out on the deck of their ship. When Catherine finally reached her father's side, he broke the eerie silence when he stepped forward and wrapped her in an embrace exclaiming loudly: "Catherine, Catherine! My own sweet girl ....."

Catherine stood stiffly in her father's arms a short time then pulled away. With dismay she saw the look of cold contempt on Captain Knight's face as the little drama played out before him. "h.e.l.lo, father" she said simply, her voice sounding flat and hollow even to her own ears. William Gibson's face grew dark at her cold salutation but he wisely kept control of himself. With a pointed look at Captain Knight he turned to his traveling companion and urged him forward. The man, who still had not spoken to this point, stepped in front of Catherine, a wry smile touching the corners of his mouth. "My dear Catherine," her father enthused, "Allow me to introduce you to my business a.s.sociate and close friend, Monsieur Philippe duMont."

At the sound of this name, a murmur rippled through the crowd of sailors on deck: a Frenchman onboard HMS Triton? M. duMont grinned with obvious delight at their reaction and boldly took Catherine's hand in his own. He removed his hat with a grand flourish, gave a low, sweeping bow to the beautiful woman before him then raised Catherine's hand to his lips in salute. Catherine's cheeks flamed in embarra.s.sment at this unwonted attention. With dismay she saw the sarcastic look that crossed his face as watched her discomfort. He was a handsome man; fair with a lithe figure and careful bearing, but beneath his polished appearance Catherine could sense a dark purpose. "Miss Gibson," he said in strong accented tones, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last. Your father has told me much about you" he finished, his eyes roving over her person appraisingly as he spoke. Catherine felt her anger rise at his callousness: the humiliation of being greeted in this way, at being made a spectacle in front of the crew, but more importantly in front of Captain Knight. She could sense the tension in Captain Knight from where he stood behind her but she refused to look in his direction, knowing the stern visage that would meet her there. Catherine drew her hand away and responded heatedly, "You have the advantage, M. duMont, for my father has told me nothing of you." Gibson looked angrily at his daughter but duMont was not deterred. With a sly grin he gave Catherine another practiced bow: "Ahh, but there will be much time for such things, Miss Gibson. Much time...." Catherine blushed in anger and embarra.s.sment at duMont's verbal challenge and stepped away, unspeaking.

William Gibson stomped toward her impatiently, all pretence at civility now gone. He gave Catherine a low growl of command: "Daughter, you will accompany M. duMont to the carriage. We leave now." Catherine continued to hold herself stiffly, not moving, but she knew she was beat. She was her father's possession to command as he wished. The bitterness of the fact stabbed at Catherine's heart but there was nothing to be done. Catherine's spirits sank in resignation but she was determined to make a proper farewell. She turned nervously to Captain Knight; the weight of a thousand unspoken things lay heavy on her heart but no words seemed able to express her feelings in this terrible moment. Catherine was startled from her reverie as Gibson's voice hissed in her ear, "Now!" Catherine flushed and stepped away at her father's command. M. duMont took her arm possessively, leading her to the gangplank with obvious delight. Before descending, however, Catherine managed to turn round, her beautiful features wreathed in bitterness and regret. "Thank you, Captain, for your kind hospitality" she said in a low, broken voice. Then, before any further protest could be made, Catherine was led down the gangplank and into the awaiting carriage by duMont.

"We depart;" Gibson sneered from the top of the gang plank: "Matthews, I hope you can at least be counted on to get my daughter's things delivered" he finished arrogantly. Matthews bristled at the insult and replied angrily; "I will bring Catherine's things to the house myself. That way I can make sure all is well" he finished contemptuously. Gibson looked at Matthews a moment, and then a broad smile came to his face: "No...." Gibson drawled slowly, "Now that I think of it, that will not do at all. I mustn't interrupt your work, Matthews. In fact, I withdraw my request. I will send a servant to gather Catherine's things. You need not have any further contact with my daughter." Matthews took a quick step forward at Gibson's threat, balled fist at the ready, but Captain Knight laid a steadying hand on the lieutenant's arm. Gibson smirked at the reaction he had elicited and tipped his hat to both men with mock civility. As Gibson turned to go, Knight's low voice sounded once more: "Remember my words, Gibson" he said with pointed meaning. In his arrogant confidence, William Gibson did not even bother to turn around; instead he stepped jauntily down the gangplank speaking casually over his shoulder as he departed; "Rest a.s.sured, Captain, my daughter will be well taken care of in her new home." Captain Knight's eyes narrowed at the words, his intelligent mind recognizing the hidden meaning in Gibson's speech. Standing stiffly at attention, Captain Knight watched William Gibson depart the ship. With great show, Gibson joined Catherine and duMont in the awaiting carriage. Then, with a sharp word to the footman, Gibson's team of horses was whipped into action and the carriage rapidly departed the busy dock.

As the trio disappeared from sight, all on deck remained at uneasy attention. The captain alone among the men moved from his spot. He stepped up to the ship's rail and watched in smoldering silence as the black carriage turned and made its way for home. Catherine never once turned round; she never looked back. Knight's eyes followed every motion of the speeding carriage until it was long out of sight. He stood alone at the rail, the muscle in his jaw working furiously and his knuckles gleaming white in clenched fists. When he at last turned around he found his men a every one of them a rooted to the spot, staring questioningly at their leader. Knight bristled with anger and began barking orders that had all men scrambling. After several unusually sharp words to the hands, Knight called for Matthews. "Yes, sir" the lieutenant answered as he came forward at the summons. "You have the bridge" Knight bit out harshly, and he strode away from the deck. Encountering an abandoned cask in his path, Captain Knight kicked it away with a savagery that left his men in stunned silence. The noise of the barrel as it rolled across deck was the only sound to be heard as their captain descended the ladder, and disappeared into his cabins.

Chapter XVI.

The carriage ride to the Gibson estate was a trying test of Catherine's mind and body. While William Gibson and his friend duMont discussed business matters, Catherine looked about blankly: the sandy white coastline, azure skies, and lush forests of palm were stunning but Catherine found little beauty in the scene. The oppressive heat plagued her and she wished for nothing more than to be free once more on the open sea. Catherine's spirits sank low at the thought a HMS Triton and the freedom it provided could never be hers again. Captain Knight would deliver his French prisoners, the ship would receive final repairs, and then HMS Triton would return to its mission. It was unlikely she would see the ship a or its captain a anytime soon; "If ever" she thought grimly.

Catherine shuddered involuntarily and the deep tremor broke her free from her unhappy reverie. As awareness of her surroundings returned, she immediately noted the change in tenor of the conversation between her father and his a.s.sociate. Her father was clearly agitated by some casual remark made by duMont. Listening more closely, Catherine could sense a hidden message underneath their words to one another. "All is well, M. Gibson" duMont said with great calm, "The project has encountered a small problem but there are, as you English say, more fish in the sea. Another... opportunity will present itself very soon." Gibson clearly was not convinced by his companion's a.s.surances: "The loss is one thing but what about their discretion regarding the transaction" Gibson returned with annoyance. Catherine's face must have registered surprise at their words for the astute duMont recognized her sudden attention and carefully steered the talk another way; "We forget ourselves, M. Gibson" Philippe duMont said with exaggerated gallantry, "Mademoiselle is left quite alone in her thoughts while we discuss our boring business details. I beg your forgiveness" he finished with a small bow.

Catherine watched duMont closely as he made his little speech; his fair hair was wavy with flecks of gold throughout, and his green eyes were bright in his intelligent face. He was indeed handsome and she was certain many women would be pleased at his attentions but something in his manner gave Catherine pause. His manner appeared gracious and open but Catherine could not deny the undercurrent of danger she detected in him. There was something too polished, too perfect, in his manner. Added to the unusual conversation with her father, it left her very worried about duMont and his intentions. "Indeed," Catherine replied curtly, "I welcome the solitude as I try to adapt to my new home." Gibson scowled in at her discourteous words but before he could reprimand his daughter, duMont smiled brilliantly and replied; "We shall soon arrive, but might I first point out my own home to you?" duMont lifted his arm an made a commanding gesture toward a large plantation house on a slight rise overlooking the sea. The imposing structure was a brilliant white, wrapped round by a wide verandah. Long, low windows reflected the bright sunlight, creating a strange glittering effect that seemed more malevolent than welcoming to Catherine's mind. The estate was formidable, a symbol of wealth and luxury, but it held little warmth in its polished facade.

"Most impressive, I am sure" Catherine said with reluctance. "I am glad you approve, Miss Gibson" duMont said, choosing to ignore her lukewarm response: "I hope you will come to see it as your second home" he finished boldly. Catherine's eyes flew to her father's face for support but she was aghast to find a look of cruel humor touching his features. "You need not look so prudish, daughter," Gibson intoned laconically, "on the island society is much more... free than in England. duMont is as often in my home as I am myself. You should prepare to see a great deal of duMont in future." A wolfish grin crossed duMont's face that made Catherine blanche with misgiving.

Desperately Catherine tried to calm the nervous tremors she felt at her father's casual words. Gibson's intent was unmistakable; Catherine was a prize to be given to duMont. But when? Catherine had imagined her father's plan was to tempt duMont with a future marriage to his daughter... but was it possible he intended to arrange such a union right away? The thought was impossibly bleak. Catherine looked around frantically as the carriage hurtled onward, fighting a desperate urge to jump from the speeding carriage that drew her closer to her fate. Catherine's mind screamed in warning, urging her to find refuge from this unwonted lover and a father who saw her only as property to sell. The horses hooves thundered onward and the carriage rocked violently as it climbed a steep promontory and negotiated a dangerous curve without slowing; to the left was the impenetrable jungle, to the right a jagged rock face and a sheer drop to the sea below. In this frightful moment, precariously balanced between two impossibilities, Catherine knew she could not escape. Just as this treacherous path offered the only pa.s.sage between two dangers, so too was Catherine held captive between her father's authority and duMont's unwonted attentions. The only way forward was between the two.

A short time later the carriage pulled up at the house of William Gibson. Like that of M. duMont, the Gibson estate was an imposing structure of Colonial style: a wide verandah flanked the house on all sides, its roof held aloft by ma.s.sive columns; a wealth of windows lined the front wall, taking in the splendor of the sea view; and surrounding all were carefully manicured lawns and gardens that forced their English order on the wild Jamaican landscape. Even at a quick glance, Catherine could see how the great house gave testament to her father's wealth and determination.

Catherine alighted from the carriage with undisguised relief and entered the house in advance of William Gibson and M. duMont. The front door opened onto a ma.s.sive foyer dressed in paneled mahogany and marble tiles, in the center of which sat a round table with an exquisite arrangement of flowers. Catherine stepped forward and touched the petals of one exotic bloom, instinctively leaning forward to catch its scent. To her surprise, the beautiful flower was completely devoid of odor: "All show and no substance" Catherine murmured to herself, thinking that the same could be said of the house that she was to now call home. Every element of the room that met her eye had been chosen solely for its price, not for any reasons of affection or comfort. It was a startlingly beautiful s.p.a.ce but it offered its inhabitants little in the way of welcome.

Feeling a sudden chill run down her spine, Catherine instinctively turned around; inches away stood M. duMont. He removed his top hat, laid it on the table, and then placed one hand against the table near Catherine's hip. He leaned forward with casual familiarity leaving Catherine no avenue of escape. "You admire the flowers, Miss Gibson" duMont said in a wicked drawl. He reached forward with his free hand as though to touch her cheek. Catherine flinched involuntarily and at the last moment duMont redirected the hand to a scarlet blossom instead. "Might I say that, lovely as they are, they cannot match your own beauty?" At this, duMont's eyes swept over Catherine's body in frank appraisal once more before finally returning to meet her gaze. He was so close Catherine could feel his exhalations fanning her cheek. Drawing on her fierce courage Catherine boldly met duMont's gaze, only to find a mocking response in their glittering depths. Catherine felt naked and vulnerable in the presence of this stranger who felt an obvious right of ownership over her. As her father entered the room, Catherine turned to him desperately seeking some sort of paternal protection: "Father, I beg your forgiveness but I feel I must go to my room at once. I... I am quite tired from my journey and wish to rest before seeing the rest of the house." William Gibson looked from his trapped daughter to duMont with careless humor. At last he gave a slight grunt of laughter and acceded to her request. "You may go," he said as though dismissing an errant servant, "But make sure you are down here well in time for lunch. M. duMont and I have business to discuss until then but you are expected to entertain at table."

Anger heightened the flame of color in Catherine's cheeks at this callous dismissal. Her father barked a quick order and a native servant came forward to wait in anxious attendance. Catherine expected duMont to step aside now but he made no effort to move whatsoever. After a long, awkward moment Catherine recognized there was no other option but to slide past his unyielding form. She shuddered at the unwelcome contact as her body necessarily brushed against his. Mortified beyond belief, Catherine retreated without further word to either man, following the servant upstairs in search of her room.

Chapter XVII.

The bedroom set aside for Catherine was found at the end of a long corridor in the upper storey. The room, like those below, had been impeccably furnished. A well-appointed dressing table sat at-the-ready, an ornate chaise lounge angled under one of the room's many windows, and a large mahogany four-poster bed commanded much of one wall in the s.p.a.cious room. With a bitter laugh, Catherine thought how small, in comparison, was her berth onboard the HMS Triton. "Smaller, but much more pleasing" Catherine thought wistfully. Despite the difficulties of the sea-journey, and the volatile encounters with Captain Knight, Catherine found herself longing to be back onboard once more. In a moment of self-pity, Catherine crossed the polished floor and sat at the room's writing desk in search of paper and pencil. Immediately she began to make a series of quick sketches of the Triton and its crew. In rapid succession the images formed under her talented hand: pictures of Tom and of her uncle, the view through the rigging of the main mast, the carved lines of the rail on the quarter deck. With feverish urgency Catherine sought to recapture familiar scenes and friends, as though drawing them might conjure them into being here at her father's house. Much later, Catherine finally slowed her frantic drawing. She was astonished at how many pages she had covered. As she looked at each sheet anew, Catherine found a recurring image in some corner of almost every page; Captain John Knight. Here, he stood in command at the ship's wheel; there he bent his head in earnest conversation with one of the crew; in another, he looked back from the page with his deep penetrating gaze. Catherine's hands shook as she held the images. The thought of Knight's strength and certainty brought Catherine both comfort and dismay. Unsettled by the feelings they evoked, she took a deep breath, then quickly shuffled the papers and stored them in an interior desk drawer. The somber click as Catherine closed the desk echoed with finality in the large s.p.a.ce. "He is not here" Catherine said aloud with bitter conviction, "I must take command myself." Drawing deep on her inner strength, Catherine turned away with composure and left the room to rejoin her father and M. duMont.

The large grandfather clock began to chime the hour as Catherine reached the bottom of the grand staircase. Moving cautiously forward, she looked with curiosity at the main rooms to get a sense of her new home. Catherine found little that surprised or pleased her in her survey but quelled such feelings with a new-found strength. If this was to be her fate she must make the best of a bad situation a nothing would be gained from wallowing in self-pity. Catherine drew herself up further and moved bravely on to the dining room where she was to meet her father and his a.s.sociate. As she entered, she was surprised to find the dining room empty. Catherine paused a moment and found she could hear the voices of the two men carrying through the room's French doors from where they sat on the verandah. Although Catherine could not make out their words, there was something in the tone of the two men that arrested her attention. Stealthily, Catherine moved nearer the open doors, the soft rustle of her cotton gown the only sound as she crossed the room.

"You are certain the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds won't speak?" Catherine heard her father say with pa.s.sion. His question received a low, mirthless chuckle from duMont. "My friend," duMont intoned with mocking contempt, "You worry too much. My countrymen will not betray you in this matter..." "Will not betray me" Gibson spluttered indignantly, "I believe you mean they will not betray us! We are in this thing together" he finished angrily. Again, Catherine heard duMont's short, contemptuous laugh: "No, M. Gibson, I mean they will not betray you. As far as France is concerned I have had no hand in this matter whatsoever. If you have been so careless as to implicate yourself with these French sailors, then you are of course at the mercy of the English navy on your own." Catherine's eyes widened in alarm: Her father implicated in some way with the French sailors Captain Knight had captured? Could such a thing be possible? Her mind raced back to the time of the ship's capture, to the supper conversation where she suspected her uncle Matthews and Captain Knight shared some hidden knowledge about the French corvette. Had they uncovered information about her father's involvement? Catherine searched her memory for details of that conversation a and of the one she had overheard on the carriage ride this morning. She strove to uncover the truth of the matter but there were too many blanks. Catherine's reverie was broken by the sudden sound of a gla.s.s crashing and breaking with violence. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" her father said with venom. "You arrogant French b.a.s.t.a.r.d! If you think for one minute that I will take the brunt of this then you are mistaken."

A long pause followed William Gibson's speech and Catherine held her breath anxiously. She leaned closer to the opening, fearing detection but determined to hear whatever came next. At last, the sound of duMont's voice came once more, but this time there was no trace of mirth; "Let me make myself clear, monsieur. I have taken every precaution to ensure our endeavor is not detected a and I did so with the full support and a.s.surances of my government. If, in your greed and haste you failed to make the necessary arrangements with our French captain, then I am afraid it will not go well for you a with either the French or the English. However," he continued, a trace of sardonic humor returning to his voice, "If you were to offer me a suitable prize then I may be able to wield some influence, to shield you from any... unpleasantness." This time it was Gibson's laugh that carried through to Catherine from the verandah: "You needn't worry" her father said carelessly. "You protect me in this matter and the girl is yours."

Catherine jerked backward, blanching with fear. So, she was to be given to duMont. Even though she suspected such a thing would come to pa.s.s, to hear the words spoken out loud was still a shock. The horror of it filled Catherine with revulsion a to be considered of so little worth that her father would sell her to ensure the protection of some wicked enterprise. Her every instinct told her to run, to seek asylum anywhere but here, but Catherine knew that the seriousness of this matter was much greater than her own personal danger. Captain Knight had grave concerns about the French corvette's activities; he had led his men into a fierce battle to find out its secrets. Men had fought a some to the death a to protect England from this threat. Now, Catherine may have stumbled upon the truth of what the French ship represented. Catherine ignored her fears; she knew what she must do. With great aplomb, she fixed an enormous smile on her face and stepped fearlessly through the door to face the two men.

"Father! M. duMont!" Catherine said with a graciousness she did not feel. The two men started at her interruption but duMont quickly masked his surprise with practiced ease. The lean, golden stranger rose from his seat and moved proprietarily towards Catherine; this time, Catherine did not flinch nor move away. She forced a sweet, steady smile to her face, completely at odds with the inner revulsion she felt at this man's presence. "It would seem, Mademoiselle, that you are much more settled?" duMont said quizzically, noting the sharp contrast to her earlier behavior. "Indeed," Catherine responded brightly, "I believe a good rest was in order. I feel quite myself again" she finished with false enthusiasm. Philippe duMont continued to search her face with curiosity but Catherine held fast under his scrutiny. "Shall I ring for dinner, Father, or have you already done so?" she asked with daughterly duty. Gibson also regarded his daughter with some surprise but chose to accept the change without much thought. "All is ready" he said in his brusque manner. "We dine immediately." With that, Catherine graciously accepted duMont's offered arm and allowed herself to be led into dinner, and into the greatest of danger.

Chapter XVIII.

In the ensuing days in the stately home overlooking the sea, Catherine Gibson transformed from an ordinary young woman into an extremely capable spy. In the presence of her father and duMont she behaved with womanly generosity, gratifying their great egos with her attentiveness and admiration. In their absence, Catherine cast off her disguise and became once more an independent woman of great intellect and skill, determined to discover the truth about her father's secret.

Each day when William Gibson left on business, Catherine quickly made her way to his private study. There in secret, she poured through financial ledgers and business correspondence seeking some clue as to the mystery of the French ship. Catherine found many examples of her father's harsh and dishonest business dealings, but beyond that she found no evidence of collusion with the French. "There must be something more" she said aloud as she settled in a leather chair with one of his recent account books. She flipped carefully through the pages, looking for a name or business that seemed out of place. The only thing she found that struck her as a bit unusual was a hefty entry labeled "Dock." To Catherine's knowledge, such an exorbitant sum was well beyond what would be required to build or repair her father's private dock a a simple affair situated at the water's edge near the north end of the estate. Catherine scanned through another series of entries but something kept bringing her back to the 'Dock' entry. She read the details more carefully and then went to her father's files where he kept receipts for his business. Catherine sorted through the pile until she found what she was looking for a a curiously vague receipt for building materials a with the same enormous price tag. Of greater interest, however, was the name of the supplier a Les Enterprises duMont. Catherine's mind filled with possibilities a could this be the connection she sought? There was no way to get further information through her father without raising suspicion but there might be another way. Catherine quickly returned everything to order, making sure nothing was out of place. Then she swiftly left the study to prepare for her mission.

A short hour later, Catherine arrived unannounced at the home of Phillipe duMont. She had taken great care with her dress, choosing a blue silk gown that accentuated her eyes, as well as her figure, with its low cut neckline and empire waist. Her hair was arranged in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, creating an elegant a and suggestive a effect. Catherine paused a moment before alighting from the carriage. Welcoming any further advances from duMont was distasteful in every way a but Catherine could see no other way to gain access to the information she wanted. With firm resolve she gritted her teeth and made her way to the door.

To Catherine's great surprise her summons was answered not by a servant but by duMont himself. Philippe's eyes flashed surprise at finding Catherine before him but his smooth mask quickly returned. He leaned against the great carved door in casual att.i.tude, his golden hair and green eyes set off by his white shirt, ornate brocade vest, and tight knee breeches. Catherine knew his appearance would thrill other women but she could feel only revulsion. Through enormous effort Catherine masked her true feelings, even as his hungry eyes took in every detail of her appearance. "Mademoiselle Gibson," he said with a husky drawl, his eyes lingering on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; "To what do I owe this great pleasure?" Catherine stifled her dismay and returned his look with a dazzling smile of her own. "My father is out today and I thought I might seek some... entertainment for myself. I hope I do not intrude?" Philippe duMont's eyes flashed wickedly at her words; he straightened and led Catherine inside, firmly closing the door behind her.

"You do not intrude, Miss Gibson. Indeed you are a most welcome visitor" duMont said, a dark smile playing about his lips. He paused in the entrance to his study and devoured her with his eyes once more. Catherine's courage faltered a moment at his wolfish look but she quickly recovered and resumed the charade: "I am glad, M. duMont. You a.s.sured me that I should treat your home as my own and so... here I am" she finished coyly. A wicked glint flashed in his eyes but duMont said nothing in response, he simply led Catherine into the study. Catherine looked around in false admiration and was about to speak when she spotted movement from across the room. To her great astonishment, a furious looking Captain John Knight rose from a chair near the window and crossed to her in an instant.

Panic raced through Catherine's mind! What could Captain Knight be doing here? And how much of her conversation with duMont had he overheard? As he stepped closer, Catherine knew the answer to the latter question. Knight looked down upon her with something akin to disgust on his face. His sharp eye took in her dress in one swift glance; Catherine was mortified by her appearance and what Knight must think in consequence. She struggled to remain calm while duMont watched their reunion with wry humor. "Miss Gibson" duMont said with slow deliberation, "Of course, you need no introduction to my guest." Knight continued his dark look a moment longer then offered her a stiff bow in greeting; "Miss Gibson" he said "What a surprise to meet with you here." "C...Captain" Catherine returned with effort, "How..... nice to see you again."

Catherine looked up anxiously into Captain Knight's familiar face, greedily taking in the sight of him once more. Her eyes swept over every feature; the curly waves of his jet black hair, the strong aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones, and of course, those penetrating black eyes. A mixture of delight and agony flooded through her at being in the same room with him again. An uneasy silence descended as they both struggled with their inner thoughts. duMont alone among the three was enjoying the event, studying his two visitors with great interest. Catherine recognized the sharp look on duMont's face and knew that she must act quickly or all would be lost. She lifted her head proudly and addressed the captain with all the haughty disdain she could muster; "And how is your ship, Captain? I trust you are enjoying the welcome relief of sh.o.r.e after such a tedious time at sea?" Captain Knight's eyes widened in surprise at her conceited speech. Though he retained his composure, Catherine could see the muscle in his jaw working furiously as he chose his reply; "Indeed, Miss Gibson, it is a relief to have reached Jamaica... and to be free of the many burdens of the journey." The words. .h.i.t Catherine like a physical blow. Knight's cruel speech was well deserved after her own hateful words and yet Catherine could not help but be hurt. She reminded herself that Knight did not know she was acting a part a that her appearance and actions with duMont were all in an effort to discover information to help the English a but that gave Catherine cold comfort as she stood there bearing the brunt of Knight's animosity and lost regard.

"I am sure you and M. duMont have much to... discuss" Captain Knight said sharply. He turned to duMont once more and said flatly: "Your candor has been very helpful, monsieur. I hope you will continue to cooperate with His Majesty's Navy in future." Philippe duMont smiled wickedly at Knight before responding; "But of course, Captain! As a Frenchman enjoying the protection of a British colony, how could I do otherwise?" "Indeed." Knight responded with barely concealed disgust. Then, with no word of farewell to either Catherine or duMont, Knight turned on his heel and left.

Catherine watched through the study window as Knight's horse was brought forward by a groom. M. duMont moved to her side and also watched as Knight made his exit. "A very proud man, I should think" duMont said carefully; "Not a man one would want to... disappoint." Catherine nodded her head in agreement, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She could not let down her mask of indifference, could not allow herself to lose this opportunity with duMont. Captain Knight might revile her, but she knew her cause was right. With a gaiety she did not feel she turned to her host and gave him another dazzling smile. "Enough about Captain Knight, Monsieur duMont. Come, let's take a moment together on the verandah. I want to learn all about you."

Chapter XIX.

When Catherine returned to her father's house she felt exhaustion greater than any she had ever known before. Her mind was in chaos and her heart was in torment. An afternoon spent in fawning admiration of someone as unpleasant as Philippe duMont was trial enough a but to be caught at the task by Captain Knight was torture. As the carriage came to rest at the entrance, the thought of entering the house and resuming the charade with her father was unbearable. Catherine asked the footman to tell her father she would walk in the gardens a while before joining him, then she set off wearily to seek a few moments solace.

The carefully manicured garden was one to be enjoyed from a distance as it offered visitors little in the way of restful repose. Catherine walked the paths but a short time before the heat of the place drove her to seek the cooler temperatures of the sh.o.r.e. She cut across the great manicured lawn and made her way to the sea's edge. Here, the careful layout of the garden was no match for the power of the sea; nature held mastery over this land between, allowing only those things to grow and flourish that it chose. The naturalness of the spot was like a balm to Catherine's bruised spirit. She stood looking out to sea with longing as a soft breeze stirred the maram gra.s.s underfoot. Waves lapped gently at the white sand and Catherine could not resist their cool invitation. She removed her silk slippers, tossing them carelessly aside, and stepped into the refreshing calm of the ocean. With no regard for the exquisite silk of her dress she remained at the water's edge, salt water licking at her hem as she walked the length of the beach. Catherine breathed deeply, delighting in the freshness of the salt air and this quiet moment of freedom. Reaching the farthest limits of the sh.o.r.e line, Catherine paused a moment before turning to retrace her steps. Abruptly, some sixth sense told her she was not alone. Whirling around in alarm, Catherine was astonished to find the figure of Captain Knight striding towards her. For the second time that day, Catherine gaped in wonder.

"Captain Knight" she said breathlessly, "What are you doing here..." her words were cut off as Knight reached out and grabbed her by the arm. "You little fool!" he bit out harshly, "What are you playing at with a man like duMont" His dark eyes blazed fire and Catherine felt a tremor of fear run through her. She had never seen such a savage look on Knight's face, had never heard such contempt in his voice. Catherine wrestled a moment to free herself but to no avail; her struggles only served to strengthen Knight's hold and deepen the intense look of anger on his face. The ridiculousness of the situation made Catherine's anger grow to match. For Captain Knight to challenge her actions as though he had some claim to her was a mockery. Catherine had been left to shift for herself in an impossible situation. She had no friend, no refuge, in this horrible situation, but instead of shrinking from her fears, Catherine was doing everything in her power to regain control. Knight might not know the truth behind her actions but that still did not give him the right to judge her. The strength of her convictions stiffened her pride; she offered no further resistance but stood firm, face upturned in challenge, ready for battle.

Captain Knight was taken aback at once by the fierce spirit of this extraordinary woman. She stood unflinching before him, prepared to meet his challenge with verve as great as his own. Knight had never met her equal. The realization took the sting out of Knight's anger. He drew a long breath and finally released his hold on her arm; "I apologize, Miss Gibson. I have no right to accost you in this manner." At her release, Catherine made no move to retreat. She rubbed her wrist absently then offered Knight a challenge of her own: "Why have you come?" she asked simply.

Knight did not speak for a long moment. He did not entirely understand his motives himself. What compelled him to seek her out after their disastrous encounter? He watched as the breeze touched tendrils of Catherine's hair, teasing them gently around the planes of her face. She was a vision of loveliness, but he knew that was not what drew him to her time and again: it was her strength. Her courage and generosity knew no bounds and she always acted with bravery and selflessness. That was why her behavior at duMont's had driven him mad. To see a woman of such character submit herself to the indecent attentions of a man like duMont was unbearable. At the time Knight could only feel bitter disappointment in Catherine but he soon came to realize something was wrong with the whole affair. There was no way a woman of her integrity would change so radically a she had to have another reason for being there.

"I came," Knight said softly, "because I am worried about you. I think perhaps you may need an ally."

Catherine's breath caught at his words. She had been determined to keep her distance, to protect her heart from this man, but the thought of his help, of having someone who understood what she was up against, was too tempting to resist. "You are right, Captain" Catherine said slowly, "I do need your help. I think there are some things I should share with you."

Knight led Catherine to a nearby stone promontory and the two settled next to each other. Haltingly at first, then with growing confidence, Catherine told Knight of the conversation she had overheard between her father and duMont, and of her suspicions about their involvement with the French ship. Knight listened earnestly but said little as she related her story. Catherine realized that she was only confirming details that the captain already suspected. "I decided to investigate the matter further," she continued, "And so I have spent the past days examining my father's papers in his absence. Today I found something that seemed at odds, a business entry related to the building of a dock." Knight's eyes widened at her words. Catherine noted his interest and continued; "The sum seemed completely out of proportion to the dock that currently exists on my father's estate. I looked through his papers further and found a connection between this dock and M. duMont's company, Les Enterprises duMont. It was duMont's business that supplied the materials for this unknown construction."

Catherine colored at the mention of duMont's name. Knight's observant eye caught the blush and he supplied the next part of the story himself; "You found a connection to duMont and so you went to his home today to see what he might reveal with a bit of artful persuasion." Catherine could not meet the captain's look as she remembered the encounter. "Yes" she said quietly. Captain Knight sighed deeply at her answer. "Miss Gibson," he said with worry, "You are playing at a very dangerous game. Philippe duMont may seem a foolish dandy but he is not, I a.s.sure you. The Admiralty suspects his involvement in a number of serious crimes a including the murder of a British agent." Catherine paled at his speech. Knight saw how his words had hit home and he continued with quiet firmness; "You must promise me that you will leave this matter alone. You mustn't have any further involvement with duMont."

Catherine stood up, smoothing her gown with shaking hands as the gravity of his words sunk in. She moved a few paces away, composing herself, before she finally turned to face Knight; "I wish I could give you that promise," Catherine said ruefully, "but I am afraid that my involvement with duMont must continue. We are to marry. My father has offered him my hand as a reward for keeping quiet about the French ship." Knight's face darkened and he leapt to his feet, swearing under his breath. He strode several paces away then turned once more, his face wreathed in contempt. "This is unspeakable" he said with anger. "What is Gibson thinking? How can he endanger you so carelessly?" Catherine could say nothing in reply; the truth was that her father was driven by motives unfathomable to a man of honor such as Captain Knight. Pausing at last in his angry march, Captain Knight turned to Catherine, concern and determination reflected in his face: "All will be well, Catherine. I will see to it personally. I will not allow you to be hurt." The kindness in his tone was almost Catherine's undoing. A mixture of hope, sorrow, and fear played about her face. She wanted to believe him with all her heart but she knew the situation might be more than even Captain John Knight could overcome. She was her father's to command as he chose. If he said she must marry, then so it would be. With no other home, no other protector to champion her cause, her fate must follow her father's wishes. Catherine looked away with pretended calm and said; "You needn't worry, Captain. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." Knight raised a hand to her chin, tilting her face to his once more. He held her gaze a long moment, stroking the soft line of her jaw with his thumb; "Are you certain?" he asked, his dark eyes speaking directly to her heart. Catherine's knees buckled weakly and she took a small shaky breath before replying; "No" she said with a bitter laugh, "No, I am not certain at all."

At her sorrowful admission, Knight drew Catherine to his chest. He wrapped his arms about her, his hands caressing her with gentle warmth. Catherine did not resist. She leaned against Knight, her head tucked against the fabric of his jacket, reveling in the comforting solidity of his chest. Her secret efforts of the past days, the threat of marriage to duMont that loomed ever closer, and the loneliness she'd felt ever since reaching the island had left her exhausted. She knew it was wrong, chided herself for her weakness, but in the arms of Captain Knight she found a safe shelter from the storm.

With soothing tenderness, Knight's hand moved to Catherine's face, gently tipping her head back to look in her eyes brimmed with sorrow. His look of concern burned through Catherine's soul. She watched in fascination as slowly, deliberately, his head lowered to hers in a soft, sensuous kiss. Catherine marveled at the touch of his lips softly brushing her own in gentle caress. She felt herself melt against his protecting warmth and slid her hands across his chest, feeling the powerful beat of his heart. The frantic pa.s.sion that had marked their earlier encounters was gone; in its place was gentleness, a mutual respect and admiration so deep that it was hard to define.

It felt like coming home.

After several blissful minutes, Captain Knight pulled his head away at last and tucked Catherine's head against his chest once more. His arms wrapped round her tightly as they stood clasped together, no sound but the waves and the cry of the gulls to interrupt their strange, silent embrace. With sadness Catherine noted the sun's rays shining low across the water, bathing the sea in its golden glow as the day drew to a close. The lovely sight was bittersweet for Catherine a for she knew she must make her way home at once. She gently pulled away from Captain Knight, saying softly; "It is getting late. I must return to my father before I am missed." Catherine turned to leave but Knight stepped forward to stay her progress. "Catherine," he said, taking possession of her hand once more, "Please, promise me you won't do anything foolish. Leave the investigation to me a you must make no further enquires that might endanger you." Catherine nodded her head in agreement; "You have my word, Captain. I leave the investigation in your hands," she said quietly, as she pulled her hand free from his grasp, "but duMont is another matter. He is to accompany my father and me to a ball at the Governor's house tomorrow night. I suspect they plan to announce my engagement to duMont."

Catherine could not look at Knight as she spoke the words, could not bear to see his contempt a or his pity. This strange interview with Captain Knight had been a revelation. Somehow they had found a balance, sharing with each other as equals, but it was too late a much too late. Catherine steeled her nerves and raised her head once more. Her beautiful blue eyes stared into the dark depths of his own; "Good bye, Captain Knight" she said with finality, then turned away and walked the water's edge before disappearing up the path to her father's estate.

Alone on the sh.o.r.e, Captain Knight stood starring out to sea. His mind was racing at her news; his worst suspicions had been confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt. He knew he must act, and quickly, on behalf of the Admiralty and England. In truth, however, Knight's motivations were much more personal, guided by an emotion he would not allow himself name.

Chapter XX.

The grand ball at the home of the Governor was one of Jamaica's most eagerly antic.i.p.ated society events. The celebrations were the most magnificent the island could offer, with no expense spared to delight guests. The grand receiving rooms shone with reflected light from dozens of mirrors and chandeliers, elaborate bouquets of exotic flowers graced every surface, and upon the grand dining tables the polished silver shone in glittering testimony to the Governor's considerable wealth. It was a scene from a fairy tale where even the servants, who rushed about busily preparing for the arrival of his lordship's acquaintances, seemed filled with the wonder and magic of the evening's promise. Excitement danced in the evening air as all was made ready.

Only short miles away, however, a very different scene played out at the home of William Gibson; here, all was shrouded in uncomfortable silence as Catherine and her father made their separate, joyless preparations for the evening. No one laughed in delight or merry antic.i.p.ation; all was solemn as a tomb.

The austere tone had been set earlier in the day with the arrival of duMont's own man. The unfortunate soul had come at his master's command to deliver a gift to Catherine. The valet placed the proffered velvet box in Catherine's hands with all best wishes from his master. He gave a polite bow and turned to depart, but not before noting Catherine's dismay at the bequest, a stark contrast to her father's great delight.

Catherine held the crims