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in danger. You're not even concerned."
"Believe me, I am concerned. I am just not one to beg."
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He shook his head in disbelief. "You removed my irons, thinking the world will protect you from harm. You have no doubt you'll be well at the end of our journey."
ou tricked me! You made me believe you were too weak to attack me. You feigned agony in your chains. Do you scold me for my kindness?"
"1 scold you for your arrogance. You're so sheltered it's made you reckless. You think that as a lady of noble birth, no harm will ever come to you."
"What makes you think I'm of noble birth?"
He gave her a look that said plainly, Come, now. Her dialect and demeanor made it obvious.
"Well," she said, "what's . . . what's wrong with trusting? Maybe I think you just have a good heart. Maybe I think that anyone in your shoes would do what you have done—maybe I understand this is a run for your life, and that you'll do what you must. Maybe I know that you've no reason to kill me." She nodded this last bit with a great deal of hope.
"Well, maybe you trust too much," he said threateningly.
Sylvie lowered her eyes. It wasn't a gesture of relenting, but of retreat. She didn't like the way his liquid brown eyes were growing hard. She knew that this was not about her, but about something beyond her control, something that had troubled him for years. She could not fix it, and it wasn't safe to try. She muttered, "I'm sorry," though she wasn't certain what she was apologizing for. It was a calculated sentiment.
"You're not sorry," he groaned, but he turned away and returned to the task of gathering bananas. He was willing to let it rest.
Sylvie glanced at Monique. If he had accused her of being too trusting, could any less be said of him? It was true he carried a pistol. But a pistol had only one shot. Could he aim well enough to strike a moving target with only one chance to hit? His back was turned. With a subtle movement,
Elizabeth Doyle
she could play with the knot in the reins, gradually undoing it without seeming to move. She was astonished by how easy it was. She knew that in theater and rhyme, people made many daring escapes, but she had never known that real people could escape from real danger.
She flung herself onto the freed Monique and kicked with all of her might. Monique lurched wildly just as the pirate yelled out. Shocked by the sudden and brutal way in which she had been mounted, Monique reared up, and it took all of Sylvie's strength to keep herself from sliding off the tail.
The pirate caught Monique's reins in one hand and Sylvie's waist in the other. Sylvie panicked, certain that he would kill her for trying to flee. She resisted his hold with squirms and cursing at Monique. Getting away seemed even more imperative than it had moments ago, for now she was certain he would be angry and vengeful. Sweat streaking her face, she dared to glance at him in her struggle, and suddenly stopped. He was grinning. In fact, he looked friendlier than he ever had before. The wind catching his shorn golden hair, the sun touching his golden skin, he looked like a youthful god at play. "That was a really good try," he said with sincerity. "I mean it. That was really close. I almost lost you."
In humiliating defeat, Sylvie could do nothing but share his dark joke at her own expense. She said, "Thank you."
That made him laugh. "And I wouldn't have guessed you could curse like that, either," he said, lifting her from the horse with just a little effort.
Sylvie was genuinely puzzled. "Are you impressed to see me curse like a peasant?"
He shrugged cheerfully. "Yes, I suppose I am. I wouldn't have guessed it." He gazed at her high and low, as though seeing her in a new light. She was a small woman, tiny in the waist, hands, and feet. But she didn't carry herself like one.
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67
Her face, oval and dotted with a single mole, radiated the certainty and warmth of a very powerful lady.
"Come, were in
"Believe me, I am concerned. I am just not one to beg."
BEYOND PARADISE
65
He shook his head in disbelief. "You removed my irons, thinking the world will protect you from harm. You have no doubt you'll be well at the end of our journey."
ou tricked me! You made me believe you were too weak to attack me. You feigned agony in your chains. Do you scold me for my kindness?"
"1 scold you for your arrogance. You're so sheltered it's made you reckless. You think that as a lady of noble birth, no harm will ever come to you."
"What makes you think I'm of noble birth?"
He gave her a look that said plainly, Come, now. Her dialect and demeanor made it obvious.
"Well," she said, "what's . . . what's wrong with trusting? Maybe I think you just have a good heart. Maybe I think that anyone in your shoes would do what you have done—maybe I understand this is a run for your life, and that you'll do what you must. Maybe I know that you've no reason to kill me." She nodded this last bit with a great deal of hope.
"Well, maybe you trust too much," he said threateningly.
Sylvie lowered her eyes. It wasn't a gesture of relenting, but of retreat. She didn't like the way his liquid brown eyes were growing hard. She knew that this was not about her, but about something beyond her control, something that had troubled him for years. She could not fix it, and it wasn't safe to try. She muttered, "I'm sorry," though she wasn't certain what she was apologizing for. It was a calculated sentiment.
"You're not sorry," he groaned, but he turned away and returned to the task of gathering bananas. He was willing to let it rest.
Sylvie glanced at Monique. If he had accused her of being too trusting, could any less be said of him? It was true he carried a pistol. But a pistol had only one shot. Could he aim well enough to strike a moving target with only one chance to hit? His back was turned. With a subtle movement,
Elizabeth Doyle
she could play with the knot in the reins, gradually undoing it without seeming to move. She was astonished by how easy it was. She knew that in theater and rhyme, people made many daring escapes, but she had never known that real people could escape from real danger.
She flung herself onto the freed Monique and kicked with all of her might. Monique lurched wildly just as the pirate yelled out. Shocked by the sudden and brutal way in which she had been mounted, Monique reared up, and it took all of Sylvie's strength to keep herself from sliding off the tail.
The pirate caught Monique's reins in one hand and Sylvie's waist in the other. Sylvie panicked, certain that he would kill her for trying to flee. She resisted his hold with squirms and cursing at Monique. Getting away seemed even more imperative than it had moments ago, for now she was certain he would be angry and vengeful. Sweat streaking her face, she dared to glance at him in her struggle, and suddenly stopped. He was grinning. In fact, he looked friendlier than he ever had before. The wind catching his shorn golden hair, the sun touching his golden skin, he looked like a youthful god at play. "That was a really good try," he said with sincerity. "I mean it. That was really close. I almost lost you."
In humiliating defeat, Sylvie could do nothing but share his dark joke at her own expense. She said, "Thank you."
That made him laugh. "And I wouldn't have guessed you could curse like that, either," he said, lifting her from the horse with just a little effort.
Sylvie was genuinely puzzled. "Are you impressed to see me curse like a peasant?"
He shrugged cheerfully. "Yes, I suppose I am. I wouldn't have guessed it." He gazed at her high and low, as though seeing her in a new light. She was a small woman, tiny in the waist, hands, and feet. But she didn't carry herself like one.
BEYOND PARADISE
67
Her face, oval and dotted with a single mole, radiated the certainty and warmth of a very powerful lady.
"Come, were in
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