one sleep, the same as Simone did for her and Canela’s people. “We shall see.”
“You’ll need to do more than that or this hellhole is your future.”
Not any longer. “We can speak about this again tomorrow when the moon rises. Not before.” Confident in her new power, she padded to her enclosure.
* * * *
Vincent sneered at Canela’s retreating figure and cupped his aching balls. Wasn’t like him to cower to any woman, especially a savage, but he’d play her game to get what he wanted then make her regret everything she’d done tonight. First though, escape.
Another moment here would drive him mad.
Even growing up wretchedly poor in England hadn’t prepared him for such deprivation. His stomach growled constantly, begging for any food, even the leaves and grass he forced himself to eat so he could sleep. These island bastards worked him near to death, worse than any captain on a merchant or pirate ship.
Next to them, Tristan had been kindness itself.
Vincent couldn’t wait to slit Tristan’s bloody throat for causing this misery and starting these problems.
As captain, Tristan had been honor-bound to share Diana. That’s what pirates did. After everyone enjoyed her womanly charms, Tristan and the crew could have ransomed her to Bishop, collected the funds, and gone on their merry way.
But no, Tristan had demanded her flesh for himself alone. His notion of a grand romance. The pirate prince and the reverend’s daughter.
Vincent spat. Both would regret what they’d done to him. Canela too. He’d save her death for last, the moment he no longer needed her.
* * * *
These last days, Heath’s worries had kept him from civilized niceties. His stubble itched. He hadn’t combed his hair. Even when he was in the courtyard, as now, he kept to himself as much as he could to avoid seeing Netta and Aimee.
Thankfully, they hadn’t crossed his path.
He missed them terribly.
Tristan emerged from the mansion freshly shaved and wearing clean clothes.
Heath left the loom he’d yet to repair.
Gavra grabbed his arm. “Where are you going? Follie needs this to work so she can finish here and help me in the kitchen.”
“I’ll fix it in a moment. I have to speak to Tristan first.”
“No. Before you do that, you see to what we need.”
“Forgive me, but no.” He shook her off as gently as he could and blocked Tristan from leaving the courtyard.
Tristan backed into a child. The girl tumbled to the ground and wailed loudly. Tristan glared at Heath. “What is the matter with you?” He patted the youngster’s head. “Pardonne-moi. Vous souhaitez un tour?” Forgive me. Would you like a ride?
Her tears flowed but she lifted her chubby arms.
Tristan swung her above his head.
The other children gathered and bounced, each screaming for him to twirl them around.
He laughed. “Vous porterez sȗrement me out, mais chacun d’entre vous a votre tour.” You will surely wear me out, but each of you shall have your turn.
Heath wanted to bellow. He’d already waited an interminable time to settle matters and end his torment on the isle.
Tristan couldn’t have been more perverse. He gave each child a particularly long ride. They staggered past him like drunken sailors, their giggles and shrieks blending.
Finished, he stepped around Heath.
“Wait a moment.” Heath grabbed his arm.
Tristan clenched his jaw. “Take care with what you say to me and do. This is your first and last warning.”
“Understood.” Heath released him. “I need a word. I’ve waited days to speak to you.”
“Is something wrong with the crops? The cattle? The pigs or horses? James and Royce are here. So are the islanders. Why didn’t you speak to them? My God, man, you’ve been here long enough to know I don’t have time to settle every single thing. I have my wife and daughter to tend to now. I deserved a few days without interruption.”
“Yes, I know. Congratulations. I wish all of you long lives and good health, but only you can resolve this.”
Tristan sighed loudly. “If this is about Royce loathing you, there’s nothing I can do to make things better. Quit coming to me like a silly schoolgirl and settle the matter between yourselves.”
Heath danced to the side to keep Tristan from leaving. “I don’t care if he shoots me. In fact, I welcome it. His hatred isn’t what I need to discuss.”
“Then what is? Out with it.”
“Not here. A private place is best. We could speak in the room where you store the liquor or where you keep your books.”
“No. Stay away from my library. Peter’s finally doing his lessons. I want nothing to keep him from them. I’ll educate him as a gentleman even if it kills him. If I don’t, Diana will have my head.” Tristan pointed. “Never repeat that.”
“I swear I won’t. Isn’t there anywhere else we can talk without anyone overhearing?”
“Why? The women and children don’t understand English. Even if they did, what have you to hide?”
To mention his desire for Aimee and Netta would most likely coax Tristan to a more secluded area. Unfortunately, Heath hadn’t the courage to face Tristan’s outrage, though he had to say something. “This is about me and the island women.”
Tristan’s color rose.
Heath guessed it wasn’t from embarrassment.
“Come with me.” Tristan strode into the birthing room and crowded him. “Talk. Or should I say confess? What have you done?”
“Nothing. Nor shall I. As long as I’m here, I can’t be a proper man. Much more of this and I’ll surely go mad. I’m no bloody priest.”
Tristan’s mouth quirked as he struggled not to smile. “Is that all?”
“You can’t be serious. I know Royce expects me to endure celibacy for my remaining days, but you do too? I refuse.”
Tristan got in Heath’s face. “You what?”
“You heard me.” He no longer cared if Tristan killed him. Anything would be better than this. “I want to leave. I must.”
“How? You expect to take a skiff to civilization? Surely, you don’t think we’d let you have the Lady Lark. Or leave for that matter. You are aware there is a price on my head. James’s and Peter’s
