Read Online Twilight of a Queen by Susan Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Carroll
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Father Bernard. The young priest peered into the cabin, regarding Xavier with a wistful expression.
Father Bernard usually busied himself attempting to provide spiritual succor to the men and many actually welcomed it, the only reason Xavier allowed the man to remain on board.
But he had developed an irritating habit of hovering near Xavier, as though he hoped to become his father confessor as well. Xavier had no use for a confessor and evenless for anyone attempting to enact a fatherly role, especially a man younger than he by several years in age and a lifetime in experience.
When Xavier ignored him, Father Bernard cleared his throat. “I—I hope I do not disturb you, Captain.”
“Yes, you do,” Xavier said, without looking up from the papers sprawled across his desk.
His curtness did not discourage the man. It never did. Father Bernard shuffled his feet and tried again.
“I just thought you might want to know the wind has not yet picked up.”
“Truly? You astonish me.”
“Do you think it likely to do so soon?”
“I have no idea. Second sight is not one of the gifts I acquired when I sold my soul to the devil. However, I do possess enough knowledge of the dark arts—I might attempt to conjure up a modest breeze for you.”
Father Bernard gave an uneasy laugh as though he thought Xavier was jesting. Or he hoped he was.
“I prefer to rely upon my prayers, Captain. I have earnestly beseeched the good Lord to send us a wind and I have every confidence he will do so soon.”
“Far more likely he’ll send us a typhoon. In my experience, your god seems possessed of a devilish sense of humor.”
If Father Bernard was shocked by Xavier’s blasphemy, he gave no sign of it. He said, “It occurs to me that our voyage will be over soon and we have never really had a chance to talk.”
“No? Well, I am a man of few words, Father.”
And most of those were curses. Xavier bit back the urge to swear as Father Bernard perched unbidden upon the edge of the bunk, looking like a man settling in for a long prose.
“Do you still intend to make berth at St. Malo?”
“Yes, that is my course.”
“It is a fine and noble thing you are doing keeping your promise to young Dominique—”
“There is nothing noble about my decision,” Xavier interrupted, “I never do anything that inconveniences me. I just happen to find St. Malo as good a port as any other to transact my business.”
Father Bernard smiled, giving Xavier one of those wise looks that suggested he knew better and which made Xavier long to stuff the priest out the nearest porthole.
“I believe an English port might serve your purpose as well and be a deal safer. You may find yourself less than welcome back in France. Monsieur du Bois told me all that transpired in Paris. Queen Catherine does not seem like the sort of woman to forgive one for ignoring her commands.”
Xavier grimaced, mentally cursing his chattering first mate. Jambe was worse than an old woman.
“I have slipped in and out of Spanish ports all along the coast of the Americas. I think I can manage to steal safely into St. Malo with the queen none the wiser. Trust me, the woman is not as formidable a witch as everyone fears that she is.”
Father Bernard fell silent for a long moment before saying, “Faire Isle is not that far of a sail from St. Malo.”
Xavier swiveled to regard the priest with frowning surprise. “Surely you are not suggesting that I carry out the queen’s command and abduct that young girl for her?”
“No! No, of course not.” Father Bernard hesitated, subjecting Xavier to one of his earnest soul-searching looks. “I just wanted to remind you that the queen was not the only one who desired you to sail to Faire Isle.”
Xavier tensed, his fingers clamping down upon his quill so hard he crushed the feathers.
“Upon his deathbed, your father—” the priest began.
“My father was raving with the yellow fever, completely out of his
Father Bernard usually busied himself attempting to provide spiritual succor to the men and many actually welcomed it, the only reason Xavier allowed the man to remain on board.
But he had developed an irritating habit of hovering near Xavier, as though he hoped to become his father confessor as well. Xavier had no use for a confessor and evenless for anyone attempting to enact a fatherly role, especially a man younger than he by several years in age and a lifetime in experience.
When Xavier ignored him, Father Bernard cleared his throat. “I—I hope I do not disturb you, Captain.”
“Yes, you do,” Xavier said, without looking up from the papers sprawled across his desk.
His curtness did not discourage the man. It never did. Father Bernard shuffled his feet and tried again.
“I just thought you might want to know the wind has not yet picked up.”
“Truly? You astonish me.”
“Do you think it likely to do so soon?”
“I have no idea. Second sight is not one of the gifts I acquired when I sold my soul to the devil. However, I do possess enough knowledge of the dark arts—I might attempt to conjure up a modest breeze for you.”
Father Bernard gave an uneasy laugh as though he thought Xavier was jesting. Or he hoped he was.
“I prefer to rely upon my prayers, Captain. I have earnestly beseeched the good Lord to send us a wind and I have every confidence he will do so soon.”
“Far more likely he’ll send us a typhoon. In my experience, your god seems possessed of a devilish sense of humor.”
If Father Bernard was shocked by Xavier’s blasphemy, he gave no sign of it. He said, “It occurs to me that our voyage will be over soon and we have never really had a chance to talk.”
“No? Well, I am a man of few words, Father.”
And most of those were curses. Xavier bit back the urge to swear as Father Bernard perched unbidden upon the edge of the bunk, looking like a man settling in for a long prose.
“Do you still intend to make berth at St. Malo?”
“Yes, that is my course.”
“It is a fine and noble thing you are doing keeping your promise to young Dominique—”
“There is nothing noble about my decision,” Xavier interrupted, “I never do anything that inconveniences me. I just happen to find St. Malo as good a port as any other to transact my business.”
Father Bernard smiled, giving Xavier one of those wise looks that suggested he knew better and which made Xavier long to stuff the priest out the nearest porthole.
“I believe an English port might serve your purpose as well and be a deal safer. You may find yourself less than welcome back in France. Monsieur du Bois told me all that transpired in Paris. Queen Catherine does not seem like the sort of woman to forgive one for ignoring her commands.”
Xavier grimaced, mentally cursing his chattering first mate. Jambe was worse than an old woman.
“I have slipped in and out of Spanish ports all along the coast of the Americas. I think I can manage to steal safely into St. Malo with the queen none the wiser. Trust me, the woman is not as formidable a witch as everyone fears that she is.”
Father Bernard fell silent for a long moment before saying, “Faire Isle is not that far of a sail from St. Malo.”
Xavier swiveled to regard the priest with frowning surprise. “Surely you are not suggesting that I carry out the queen’s command and abduct that young girl for her?”
“No! No, of course not.” Father Bernard hesitated, subjecting Xavier to one of his earnest soul-searching looks. “I just wanted to remind you that the queen was not the only one who desired you to sail to Faire Isle.”
Xavier tensed, his fingers clamping down upon his quill so hard he crushed the feathers.
“Upon his deathbed, your father—” the priest began.
“My father was raving with the yellow fever, completely out of his
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