Free Unclaimed Heart by Kim Wilkins Page A

lass,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “We’ll go up to the poop. I think we both need a good dose of fresh air.”
    She allowed herself to be led. Outside, the sky had silvered to twilight, pale pink clouds lay over the rolling waves. Constance was surprised to see that they were near land. The ship was hove-to, sails arranged so it would bob quietly in the water, so she knew they would not be staying here for long. Sea birds circled overhead. As she climbed the ladder to the poop, she saw that the ship’s boat was arrowing away towards a small, overgrown island. Maitland rowed the boat, and the captain of the pearler, de Locke, sat guarded by two other crewmen.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with him?” Constance asked, pausing on the ladder.
    Father, who was already above, gave an irritated grunt. “Come, child. Don’t dither.”
    She climbed up and joined him on the poop. He was leaning on the rail, watching the boat’s journey. She waited, her mouth dry. He turned, eyebrows momentarily angry. With visible effort, he tried to smile. “Constance, I am not what you think I am.”
    She didn’t know how to answer, so she said nothing.
    â€œDe Locke is an old enemy. The Queen of Pearls is mine, won in a dispute over money. I own the title deed. He stole her.”
    Now she was puzzled.
    â€œAs to your question about what we will do with him, we are going to leave him on that island with provisions enough to sustain him until we are well away. This is a common trade route; somebody will find him before long. But he is not trustworthy, and I don’t want him following us.”
    Constance looked around. “Where’s the pearler?”
    â€œTwo of my men have already sailed her off to Nagakodi. We’ll meet with them in a day or so, good winds permitting. I’ll sell her and recover my money. De Locke’s crew are all in the hold. I intend to take the two natives to the pearl fisheries superintendent at Puttalam before we head to Nagakodi. They are both originally from Ceylon and will be well taken care of there.”
    â€œAnd Alexandre?” She remembered those dark eyes, his calmness in the face of her fearsome father, the heat that had tingled in her toes being so close to his damp body.
    â€œI am still deciding what to do with Alexandre.” He glanced away. “But I won’t harm him, if that was your next question.” Constance bit her lip. It was.
    Once again he met her eye, then, to her very great surprise, took her hand. “I am sorry if you are afraid of me, child. I have given you no just cause, and so I can only assume that you have somehow ignored my rules and mingled with the crew, overhearing some fragment of untruth that has grown nightmarish in your brain.”
    She swallowed hard. Nodded. She could see the effort it took him not to berate her.
    â€œWhat did you hear?” he asked, in a forcedly even tone.
    â€œThat you were a pirate,” she whispered. “A long time ago.”
    He sighed. “I was never a pirate. I am a merchant seaman and have always been so. But . . .”
    Constance waited, breath suspended.
    â€œShortly after your mother disappeared . . . I was not myself. My first run after the . . . event was to the Malabar Coast, to Cochin. I had a special charge from a very rich man, a cargo to pick up. Sixty crates of tea. He was willing to pay much higher than the East India Company, so I took the commission. But we had weeks of bad weather. Gales, squalls, then we were becalmed in the doldrums, on the equator, for sixteen days. I arrived at Cochin a month later than expected. Exhausted, still frantic about Faith, wondering if she had returned in my absence . . .” He paused, and Constance found that she was blinking back tears. “I was not in the mood for what happened.
    â€œA wily Portuguese captain had heard about the commission, about my failure to pick it up yet. He