Chapter 3
Three
Rhys must have rolled in his sleep because he awakened with a jolt and had to spit sand out of his mouth. He supposed it could have been worse. Instead of soft sand, he could have landed on the hard ground.
Not long after he had arrived in Martinique, he had tied a hammock to two trees near the beach that was sheltered from the sun and also close enough to the water for the sea breezes to cool him during the hotter evenings when it was too stifling to sleep inside the hut.
That was where he retreated after he’d been forced to leave his own home because of six females.
With a heavy sigh, he stood and brushed the sand from his trousers and shook out his shirt—the one that he had removed to sleep. He was used to wearing nothing, and the trousers were uncomfortable enough that he wasn’t going to have his shoulders and upper arms bound by linen as well.
Despite having just dusted the sand away, Rhys sat back down and picked up his boots, tipped them over and shook them out in case anything had decided to crawl inside, then put them on.
He’d prefer to be barefoot, but it wasn’t practical because one must always be prepared to run when one was a spy and barefoot through the forest could be dangerous.
He then reached for the bottle of rum and took a deep drink.
He could either return to his house or he could inspect the boat to begin repairs and since he did not want to encounter a bunch of little girls, he opted for the boat, though he would not mind seeing Miss Driscoll again, regardless of how prim, proper, judgmental and disagreeable she might be.
He stopped and frowned. She was the very type of woman he had avoided in Society so why the blazes would he want to seek her out now?
Maybe it was because she was English even if she lived on Dominica or it could be her Caribbean blue eyes and golden hair…
It was neither. He’d just been too long without a woman and once he was off this blasted island and in Antigua, the first thing he was going to do was get himself a mistress.
After taking another swig of rum, he corked the bottle and set it aside then waded into the inlet to inspect the boat.
He had nails and a hammer in the hut, but not wood, unless he took it from the terrasse but who knew how old that was.
He also did not have pitch, tar or anything to make the boat waterproof.
He’d faced more difficult dilemmas and this too would be solved in time.
Maybe it wouldn’t even be necessary. Miss Driscoll and her sisters could be rescued within the sennight and he would have a new person to exchange information with so he wouldn’t need the boat to leave.
Though, it would be nice to have it just in case they were found and an escape was necessary.
It was also something that he would address later.
His stomach grumbled and as much as he didn’t want to be around a bunch of children, he headed back to the hut but stopped when he heard voices. They were not female but male.
With spyglass in hand, he hurried up the small hill not far from the hut and peered down the path.
French infantry! Their white coats were not easily camouflaged in the forest. He then studied the area from how far they were, which path and then spied on the hut to make certain nobody was outside.
He needed to make certain the children remained quiet, but what he saw was evidence that there were females in that hut.
Rhys looked back one more time to see where the soldiers were to note that they were on a path that led away from the beach then ran down the hill, yanked the female clothing off the rope strung between trees where they had apparently been hung after being washed, hurried up the terrasse and without knocking, tossed the clothes inside.
“Quiet! Soldiers!” he hissed and just as the youngest was about to cry out, Miss Driscoll clamped a hand over her mouth and warned the others with her eyes.
At least she understood the danger.
Satisfied that for once they would not make a sound, Rhys slipped away and followed the soldiers to see where they went, and tried to eavesdrop on what they were saying but could only pick up a few words.
Apparently they’d been sent to different parts of the island to see if the British had them completely surrounded.
Rhys couldn’t imagine what difference it would make since ships couldn’t leave the port because of the British blockade.
He then heard one of them mention that a ship was going to drop supplies, if they could make it through.
When they reached what Rhys assumed was the rendezvous point, the six soldiers set up a makeshift camp. While they were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear anything from the hut, that did not mean they may not wander in that direction, so once again he slipped away and returned.
This time he quietly knocked on the door, which was opened by Miss Driscoll.
“Are they gone?”
“Far enough away, for now.”
She opened the door further and he walked in to find the girls glaring at him.
“Men are not to enter a room where women are not decent,” one of the children chastised.
“There were extenuating circumstances.”
Besides, he did not even see them, he just tossed the clothing and told them to be quiet.
However, Miss Driscoll had been standing directly in his line of sight and wearing only a shift.
He’d been too anxious for their safety and what the soldiers were about to truly note her appearance, but now he remembered and unfortunately, she was fully clothed.
He frowned.
She was wearing one of his shirts and a pair of trousers!
As was the oldest of her sisters.
The younger girls were wrapped in blankets and the clothing was draped over the table and benches apparently still drying.
“Where were they?” Miss Driscoll asked.
He explained how he had followed them and what he had overheard. “None of you are to leave the hut until I tell you so,” he ordered.
“You cannot tell us what to do.” The girl who had chastised him for entering stomped her foot.
“Enough, Margaret. We will do what Mr. McNaught says, in this instance.”
“I will keep watch and may go and check and make sure that they remain where I left them. I’ll let you know when it is safe to come back out.”
“Thank you, Mr. McNaught.”
“Why did you launder your clothing?”
“Because it was soaked with salt water and the fabric became stiff and rough. They needed to be washed and rinsed.”
At least he hadn’t run in on them naked.
“I borrowed a set of your clothing so that I was somewhat properly attired in the event you stormed in here again without knocking.” This time she pursed her lips in disapproval.
“I am very sorry but I believed your safety was a priority.”
“You could have knocked quietly,” she said.
“I will remember that next time and hopefully the soldiers won’t be near enough to hear me.” He stomped across the room and took some bread, fruit and dried meat. “Stay inside until I come back.” He then left and slammed the door behind him.
* * *
Tempest had wanted to die of mortification when Mr. McNaught had entered the hut while she wore only her shift but soon realized that he had other matters on his mind.
Had he not mentioned the French, she might have chastised him, but he had only been looking out for their safety, therefore she could suffer through some embarrassment.
She did like the freedom of being in trousers and a loose shirt and would likely continue to wear this clothing until she was forced to wear a dress when they were rescued.
Why were the French walking about the island?
That was a deep concern because she and her sisters could not be found.
Then again, she could always tell them the truth, that the boat had sunk, except if they wanted to know which one and if it had been attacked on purpose, they may think she was a spy and where would that leave her sisters?
It was better not to be caught before a boat came for them.
With a heavy sigh, she stopped by the window that looked out to the forest and realized that the shades should be dropped so that nobody could see in and that was when she realized that Mr. McNaught had not left but was sitting on the terrasse.
“I will be one moment, girls,” she said as she walked to the door.
“You cannot leave,” Nicoll reminded her.
“If I see danger, I can retreat quickly enough. And, just in case, remain quiet.”
She then slipped outside and sat beside him.
Mr. McNaught looked her over from head to toe and shook his head.
“Is nothing of mine off limits to you?”
“We do not know how long we will be stranded here and we will need an extra set of clothing,” she argued.
“I see that you have made yourselves comfortable in my home.”
“We have managed,” she responded.
“I suppose you expect me to continue sleeping in the hammock.”
“It would be for the best since young ladies should not share a chamber with a bachelor.”
“This is not a bloody bedchamber but my house.”
“I would ask that you not curse in front of the children.”
“They are not out here,” he ground out.
“They can still hear you.”
“Then stuff their ears with cotton!” he said right before he bit into a piece of bread.
Yes, they were an inconvenience, but that didn’t mean he needed to be so unpleasant.
Except, it could be that he was worried. Her father often grew short when concerned, not that he ever yelled at her or her sisters, but there was a definite shift in mood, and with soldiers having walked nearby and having set up camp not very far away, she could understand his tension.
“When do you think they will come back?”
“If the supplies had not been dropped, they were to spend the night and return. Apparently, they were to have been delivered two days ago but this was the first that someone had been sent instead of having men there for three days.”
“Thank goodness for that or they may have seen our arrival.” Tempest gave a shiver at how precarious their situation was.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For the use of your house and warning us.”
“I will sleep on the terrasse tonight in case they decide to come back.”
“Would it not be better if you were at the back of the house, the part that faced the forest instead of away from it?” How would he even hear if anyone approached?
“Normally I would sit just inside the door and be ready, but as I am not allowed in my own hut, I refuse to sleep on the ground where any spider, snake, turtle or lizard might want to join me.”
She gave a shiver, more because of the venomous vipers that were native to the island.
“If you are found on the terrasse, then we will be found as well,” she argued.
“Not if I make enough noise so that you and your sisters can slip out the back.”
She had not considered that possibility.
“Also, leave nothing lying around that would indicate females are about and sleep with your shoes on.”
“Really, Mr. McNaught. I do not think shoes are necessary.”
“Then run through the dark forest in your bare feet for all I care, just make sure they take their shoes with them.”
He stood, brushed the crumbs from his lap, then marched away.