Chapter 7
Seven
The fact that Miss Driscoll asked why he was really on the island confirmed his suspicions of what she may know about her uncle’s activities.
But Rhys did not know how much and he intended to find out.
But, not in front of the children and not when there were four very naked French soldiers sitting at the edge of the beach, likely waiting for their skin to dry before they dressed again.
“Do you think they will come this way and search for turtles when they are dressed?” she asked quietly.
“They did not want to search for them in the first place so I do not suspect that they will, though I hope this does not become a favorite place for them to swim.”
“On that we are agreed,” she said.
“At least we agree on one thing.” He chuckled quietly.
“You will warn me if we must hide and be quiet?” she asked.
“I will.”
Miss Driscoll then stood but stayed low enough to be hidden. “I will go see to the girls and prepare supper.”
“And we will continue our discussion later.”
She slipped away and he continued to watch until the French soldiers had finally left then made his way to the hut where dinner had been placed on the table. It was the same as every night—fruit, bread, dried meat and a biscuit.
He would need to see about going into Fort-de-France for more provisions if they were going to be here much longer. They had eaten all the eggs and he would like those again.
Conversation around the table was quiet and polite, with little to say. What he did want to discuss could not be done in front of the children.
They may understand the danger they were in, but he did not want them to know that he was an English spy because, heaven forbid they were caught, one of them might mention that fact and he’d be arrested.
“I thank you for supper,” Rhys said as he stood after he had finished eating. “I shall now retreat to my hammock.”
He only said that so Miss Driscoll would know where to find him so that they could continue their conversation that had begun behind a bush.
Once he knew how much she understood, he would likely be more comfortable with his situation, or possibly not.
She did tend to have her own opinions, which could be dangerous to him.
Yet, despite his irritation with Miss Driscoll, he still had a duty to protect them.
If the French soldiers decided to come back, or scout for British on the island because they feared that they may land clandestinely, they could come across Miss Driscoll and her sisters.
Therefore, they needed another place to hide.
One that would not be easily discovered.
But where?
There was an open beach before him and dense forest behind him. Another structure would be seen and he could not risk them simply hiding beneath foliage and hope that they weren’t discovered.
“Are you really from Martinique?” she asked as she approached his hammock.
Rhys quickly corked his bottle of rum and dropped it into the sand.
“I know you were drinking, Mr. McNaught. Ruth told me that Ann gave you one of the hidden bottles.”
“Can I assume that you came to take it back from me?”
Miss McNaught chuckled and shook her head. “No. I just ask that you do not get drunk or drink in front of the children.”
“Has nobody ever drank in front of them?”
“Yes, of course. Wine at dinner, brandy afterwards.”
“Then I do not understand.”
“Civilized drinking, Mr. McNaught. Not directly from a bottle.”
“I will use a coconut next time,” he grumbled.
“I am not here about the rum, Mr. McNaught.”
He hated that she called him that and it was beginning to irritate him. “Rhys. My name is Rhys. I do believe given our current circumstances that you should feel free to call me by my given name since there is little formality to hiding on a Caribbean island.
She chuckled, much to his surprise. “You may call me Tempest.”
“Tempest.” He tried the name on his tongue. “It suits you.”
“I am not certain how to take that, Rhys. Is it a compliment or a criticism?”
“I am not certain,” he answered honestly.
“My father gave me the name because I arrived in the world during a tropical storm and my screams were as loud as the wind squalls.”
“Do you still scream as loud?” he asked and without his intention, immediately wondered how loud she would be when gaining a release.
Bloody hell! Being on an island, without adult chaperone, and one inhabited by the French was not a place to think about desire or bedding or any other pleasurable activities.
“I can,” she grinned. “But I promise not to do so when the French are near.”
She was teasing, chuckling and smiling—behavior that he had seen her rarely exhibit. “Have you been partaking of my rum, Miss…Tempest.”
“No, but I have been tempted. These circumstances do have me on edge.”
Yes, well, him as well.
“Join me.” He moved over as far as he could to make room for her to sit on the hammock.
“Thank you.” She smiled and sat, but because they were sitting on something suspended and curved they ended up right next to each other with their thighs touching.
“Are you really from Martinique?” Tempest repeated the question she had first asked.
“My mother was. Her name was Adeline Duval, a name recognized after I arrived, which made me welcomed without suspicion.”
“You recognized the captain’s name when I first said it.”
“I made no comment.”
“It was a flicker in your eyes, barely but it was still there.”
Rhys had hoped that he had not given himself away, but he had been surprised by what she had been telling him.
“My father and I both know what my uncle uses his boats for.” She smiled. “My father is a diplomat living on an island in the middle of the Caribbean where the British are trying to take control of the French occupied islands. There is little he does not know of the network or what my uncle does.”
“That he is a smuggler instead of a merchant,” Rhys suggested to see if she truly knew or was guessing.
“You and I both know that it is more,” she said. “Otherwise, you would not be so afraid of the French finding me and my sisters.”
“Any man from England would recognize the danger and I hope would protect you.”
“If you really wished to live with the French on the island of Martinique, you would not have found a house miles from civilization,” she argued.
“What does your uncle do?” he countered. Though he believed she knew more than she should, he needed to hear her say it before he admitted to anything.
“I suspect that Cornelius, by way of Captain Goodard, had messages delivered to and retrieved from you.”
* * *
Tempest waited for Rhys to confirm or deny her claim.
Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to look out at the sea.
Maybe he was afraid to tell her the truth, or maybe he was only here for peace and quiet and she had erred in saying anything to him.
“I arrived here five months ago,” he began.
“I am to perform reconnaissance and gather intelligence as to the defense of the island, including number of soldiers and militia, the strength of defenses of Fort Desaix and terrain advantages of the island. I was also supposed to intercept dispatches, which were delivered to Cornelius when he brought me intelligence.” He looked at her.
“I am also to report on civilian morale, which is low and likely lower since I was last in Fort-de-France because of the blockade and dwindling supplies. I was to befriend those who are sympathetic to the British but did not meet anyone and I did not want to risk getting too close to others. However, it is easy to see the low morale when I am in the city and witness the dwindling supplies and hear the complaints of the merchants and citizens.”
Now that she knew for certain the reason Rhys was here, she became more comfortable. At least they were on the same side and he served the same purpose as her uncle and father.
“Had you ever been to the Caribbean before you were sent here?”
Rhys chuckled. “I was born on Antigua and lived there for thirteen years before I was shipped off to school in England.”
“Then why aren’t you in Antigua?”
“Because the British are already there and control the island. Here is where I am needed.”
“How long have you been a spy or is this your first mission?” she asked quietly, partially teasing.
“I was recruited by the Home Office ten years ago, but that is all I am saying.”
Her Caribbean blue eyes widened with intrigue.
“I am good at what I do.”
“Until a grown woman and her younger sisters upset your plans.”
“It wasn’t you.” He shook his head with the answer. “It was the ship sinking.”
She supposed he was right. How would he get or receive messages, which was more important than her getting home since the British intended to invade Martinique any day. It was a shame that nobody bothered to tell her exactly what day.
Rhys blew out a sigh and stared back out at the sea.
“The hut is not safe for you and your sisters,” he said after a moment.
“It is all that we have.”
“There are caves. I plan on searching the area for one that will be a good place for you to hide if the hut is discovered.”
Tempest shivered at the idea of being inside a cave. Animals, rodents and reptiles lived in dark caves.
“I do wish we are rescued soon.”
“I, as well, but it has been what, five days, and nobody has come.”
“That is not to say that they are not looking for us,” she reminded him.
“I am certain that they are and it is my hope that when your uncle sends a ship to investigate, a ship from the Royal Navy may have noted the distress and told them where you put in or where the ship sank.”
“I do not recall seeing one,” she said.
“There had to have been. The island is surrounded.”
“It was also dark.”
All he could hope was that someone had seen them and would soon come to the island. “I also intend to get that boat fixed so we have a means to leave Martinique if necessary. That is twice French soldiers have been near and I do not trust that they won’t wander this way again.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“After I have found a suitable place for you and your sisters to hide away from the hut, I will go into Fort-de-France and steal what I need from the harbor. Every supply that I need to keep the boat afloat will be there.
She hated the idea of him putting himself at risk for them, but he would likely need the boat even if it was only for him.
Further, he had been working for the Home Office for ten years so he was not without experience.
No wonder he was out of sorts when they arrived. One could hardly blame him.
“Well, I should get back. If I am gone too long, one of them may come looking for me even though I told them to stay inside,” Tempest said as she shifted her weight to stand, which tipped the hammock.
Not only did she lose her balance but so did Rhys and they both fell back into the sand.
If anyone asked, Tempest would never be able to describe exactly what had happened, only that she was starting to stand one moment and the next she was lying in the sand staring at Rhys, and far too close to be proper.
At least she hadn’t landed directly on him because that would be quite unseemly.
His green eyes warmed as a blond eyebrow arched and then he looked at her lips.
Her heart pounded and while her breaths grew short, Tempest tried to convince herself that it was because the fall had knocked the air from her chest. She knew it was a lie but it was better than admitting that she had wanted Rhys to kiss her.
“Um…yes…well.” She pushed herself to sit only to note that her skirt had slid up her thighs, likely because her legs had been in the air as she fell backwards, and exposed a good portion of her legs—the lower part, her knees and some of her thighs.
Before she could straighten her clothing, Rhys was already coming to his feet, but stopped when he noted her legs, which were without stockings because it was far too hot.
His green eyes only grew darker as he sucked in a breath.
Tempest’s face burned as she quickly pushed her skirt down the best that she could since she was sitting on some of the material. She just hoped that she could stand without tripping. Thankfully Rhys held out a hand, which she grasped for support.
“Well…goodbye,” was all she could manage as she ran away.