18. Isla
Isla
Pleased that, unlike Celie, she hadn’t gasped aloud, Isla had to admit it had been a near thing when those magnificent sails filled, and the crew leapt to do any number of tasks necessary to take them out to sea.
With the thought of Montfort commandeering a ship and racing out to stop them, she turned a wary eye toward the port. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary other than a crowd of people gathered to see the infamous Morgan’s Jest put out to sea.
Turning slightly, Isla had her first sight of her beloved Windsong Caves from the viewpoint of the bay.
She couldn’t help imagining her dark, foreboding friend watching from its one massive eye like a cyclops staring after the retreating back of the child it had lovingly nurtured and soothed from the time of her birth.
“It really is a beautiful sight, isn’t it?
” It seemed that Jonto had read Isla’s mind.
He spoke in a soft yet commanding voice.
It was different than the tone Isla had come to know on shore.
It was also different from that menacing scowl she’d witnessed earlier in the wardroom, the harsh censure that had sent a tiny frisson of fear up her spine.
This tone, though, so full of the authority of command, also held what could only be described as a tenderness to it that gave Isla a feeling of safety, as though she was wrapped in a comfortable cocoon where nothing could touch her.
“My Lady?”
Isla jerked out of her reverie, wondering why those ridiculous thoughts had intruded on her enjoyment of the view of her beloved caves.
“Oh, forgive me. I was caught up in seeing Windsong Cave from this angle. I’ve never been out in the bay, nor have I climbed the cliffs bracketing the opening into our port. ”
Jonto turned his full attention on her then. “You mean you’ve lived in a port city your entire life and have never been out in a skiff or a rowboat? This is your first time at sea?”
Isla bristled at the incredulity in his tone.
“As you well know, My Lord, it’s not considered seemly for a noblewoman to venture abroad without either her father, husband or, as in this case, a married couple accompanying her.
Since my father died when I was very young, and, as of yet, I have no husband, the opportunity never presented itself. ”
He returned his attention to the cliffs growing smaller by the minute.
“It’s my turn to apologize. I didn’t mean to offend.
You startled me, is all. My father, who was an explorer and seafaring man, took my sister and me out on his sailboat starting on our sixth birthday.
We learned to sail at a very young age.”
His words pricked the sensitive wound that had festered deep within Isla’s soul for as long as she could remember.
Her mother had craved adventure and sought it out whenever Isla was away at boarding school.
While she hadn’t been a seafaring pirate, she had traveled to nearby kingdoms and met people she described as eccentric and, therefore, more interesting than “the class-conscious boors” of their homeland.
Yet, while Isla idolized her mother, she’d never asked to accompany her for fear of the censure and ridicule that would have increased the moment she stepped back onto school grounds.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted adventure.
She yearned for it and had read books by the dozen about seafaring captains and faraway places, but here she was, a thirty-two-year-old virgin sailing out of Fachan’s Bay for the first time.
Virgin? How had that word slipped into her mind?
The harsh bitterness of her response surprised even her.
“How very wonderful for you and your sister.”
She expected Jonto to respond with one of his quick-witted rejoinders.
Instead, he quietly said, “I’ve discovered through the years that simply because a person hasn’t had the opportunity to explore the unknown, that in and of itself doesn’t preclude the existence of an adventurous spirit.
I think, perhaps, your imagination has sailed you to distant shores and has provided many conversations with the fascinating individuals you’ve found in that charming lending library of yours.
” The depth of his understanding laid bare Isla’s innermost hopes, desires, and dreams. Her breath caught as she stared into those eyes that nearly matched the color of the endless blue sky surrounding them.
The breeze blew wisps of brown hair into his face as his attention moved from her to his ship.
His gaze roamed over the decks, spars, rigging, and sails.
Pretending to turn her attention away, out of the corner of her eye, Isla studied the sharp cheeks and aristocratic nose of this man who wore so many disparate personalities with such ease.
As much as he’d irritated her when they’d first met, she was beginning to wonder whether this might be the man who could woo her away from her dreams of loving another woman.
Jonto rested one hand on the gunwale before again catching and holding her gaze. “Neither does it mean your adventures can’t begin today.” His eyes softened and lingered, and she cursed her traitorous heart that was fluttering like a butterfly tapping its delicate wings against her chest.
Without taking his eyes from hers, he spoke as though giving her a solemn vow. “I promise to give you those adventures on this trip, My Lady. We’ll visit islands and kingdoms and perhaps meet the pirate ship that sails as the companion to the Jest when we venture into dangerous waters.”
Lady Fitzgerald spoke from his other side. “That would be quite the adventure, Lord Jontoreaux. Robert and I look forward to seeing where this trip of yours will take us.”
At the sound of her voice, Jonto jumped and spun to his right, where Pris stood with one brow raised.
Isla knew that look and felt her cheeks pink at her friend’s silent censure.
Perhaps she shouldn’t allow herself to be mesmerized by Jonto’s sky-blue eyes because, by that one skillfully arched brow, Pris was clearly letting Jonto know that she intended to fulfill her duties as chaperone while on board the ship and fully expected him to treat Lady Brighton with the respect her status deserved.
Celie suddenly shouted as she pointed off their starboard bow. “Look! Over there!” She spun and searched the sea off the port bow and shouted again. “And there! Other ships.”
The captain’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
He clearly enjoyed Celie’s over-the-top excitement of everything having to do with this trip.
“That one to starboard is the Syren, one of my three-masted barques, and to port, you’ll find the Red Rover, a two-masted brig.
They’ll be sailing with us to ensure everyone’s safety.
You’ll occasionally see a third one, also a barque, sailing further away than those two. ”
Isla’s excitement rose when she heard the name of the two-masted brig. “Red Rover? As in James Fenimore Cooper’s Red Rover?”
The look of pure delight in Jonto’s eyes when Isla made the literary connection thrilled her even more. She found his grin infectious and couldn’t help smiling as she stared at the far away sails of the other ship.
Robert, who’d stationed himself near his wife, shook his head. “The captain of the Red Rover was a scoundrel, a pirate for all intents and purposes. Why would you—” His words ended abruptly when he remembered whom he was talking to.
Jonto laughed and slapped the gunwale. “A scoundrel, yes, but the novel is about so much more than following his exploits.”
Isla couldn’t help herself. She’d read the book many times and understood why a man like Jonto would name a ship after that fictional character.
Because even though The Red Rover was a schooner, it figured as a character in the novel right along with its captain and crew.
“If you read between the lines, Robert, instead of simply reading for pleasure, you’ll see that Cooper explored the themes of loyalty and bravery set against the backdrop of lawlessness and piracy.
In his own way, the captain who reigned aboard The Red Rover was an honorable, multi-faceted man who ruled his pirates with an iron will. ”
Isla blinked, realizing she’d described the man standing beside them.
Despite her father’s untimely death at the hands of pirates, she’d treasured Cooper’s books.
How many adventures had she experienced on the Red Rover’s decks, dreaming of escape and adventure on the high seas, and here, unbelievably, she had her own Red Rover taking her out to sea.
“Just so.” Jonto looked as though he wanted to take her into his arms for recognizing the etymology of her ship’s name. Instead, he turned to Pris. “On another note. Lady Fitzgerald, I’ve?—”
“Priscilla, please, Lord Jontoreaux.”
It amused Isla that her friend had thawed enough to allow such familiarity.
With a series of hand signs, Jonto, who still had details to attend to so he could fully see to the needs of his guests, signaled Nico, who’d descended to the main deck and was watching his captain, awaiting further orders.
When his first mate dipped his chin in understanding, Jonto turned back to his guests and smoothly continued as though he hadn’t just issued an order while being corrected in his form of address.
“Priscilla, then. And please, call me Jonto, or, if that’s too familiar,” he nodded at the lady’s husband, “Lord Jonto is acceptable as well. As we discussed yesterday, you mentioned that your lady’s maid is heavy with child and wouldn’t be able to attend to your needs while on board the Jest. I’ve arranged for the purser’s wife, who lives on board the Syren, to serve you while you’re on the Jest. I, um.
…” Jonto crossed his arms and looked at the deck, unsure how to broach a sensitive subject with the Fitzgeralds.