“Double,”
Joshua said, laying his card on the table.
His
friend Rene smiled, placing his own card down. “Double,” he returned, his
attention shifting from the cards to the commotion at the club door. “He’s
here,” Rene observed.
“Finally,”
Joshua said. “I was beginning to believe he’d never realize what was
happening.” He laid another card on the table. “Triple.”
“Bastard,”
Rene countered without malice. He watched Joshua as Christophe Patrice
approached their table. The Duc was cool and calm, unlike Patrice, whose anger
seemed to have turned him a most unbecoming shade of purple.
“De Tournville!”
Patrice shouted. “I
demand that you stop at once!”
Joshua
flicked a dismissing glace at Patrice, resuming his dealing of the cards.
“What are you talking about, Christophe?” He picked up his hand, nodding to
Rene while placing a card on the table. “Double.”
“You
know damn well what I’m talking about,” Christophe said. “You’ve somehow
convinced all the creditors in Paris to cut me off?”
“I
did?”
“You
know you did,” Christophe insisted.
Joshua
shrugged, his focus never leaving the card game. “I’m not sure how I could
possibly be responsible for the fact that every merchant in the city had finally
realized you’re a bad bet.”
“And
you’re a criminal,” Christophe countered.
Joshua
turned an icy gaze on the other man. “You forget to whom you are speaking,
Christophe,” Joshua warned. “Watch yourself when addressing your betters.”
“My
betters?” Christophe spat. “You? You’re nothing but a freak, a fucking
sodomite who helps convicted murders to escape!”
“Did
I?” Joshua smiled. “The court ruled there was too much evidence, too many witnesses
that proved otherwise.”
There
was a murmur of laughter through the room as most of those “witnesses” were
present in the club this night.
“You
still did it,” Christophe insisted. “I don’t care what the court said.”
“And
you murdered the Countess de Chanté, Christophe,” Joshua countered. “No
matter what the court said.”
While
some might have thought it possible, no one had ever accused him to his face of
the murder. “How dare you!”
“Oh,
I dare,” Joshua said, rising of his chair to tower over the smaller man. “I
dare. You killed her, you selfish bastard. You killed her because you knew the
King would choose my suit over yours. And you’re petty enough to not only kill
her, but ruin others at the same time by framing Justin du Lac.”
Christophe
was shaking with anger. He looked around at the crowd in the club, noting all
activity had stopped to watch the two men. He reacted impulsively and without
thought.
The
slap against Joshua’s cheek resounded throughout the silent club.
Joshua
smiled.
Christophe
paled.
“Rene,”
Joshua addressed the other man, his eyes still on Christophe’s pale face.
“You’ll be my second, yes?”
“Of
course, your grace.”
Joshua
nodded. “I expect to see you at the Ille de Souvicee at seven in the morning,
Christophe. And I suggest you be there. Believe me, there is no where you could
hide.”
As
Joshua strode through the club, there was a resounding and thunderous round of
applause.
The
fog hung heavy over the river, creating eerie shadows and muffled sounds. Joshua
sat in the carriage calmly, waiting for Christophe to arrive.
Sitting
next to him, Rene was more on edge. “The bastard had better show up.”
“He
will,” Joshua said softly.
“You’re
very confident about that,” Rene said. “If I were due to face you across the
field, I know I’d be as far away as possible by the next morning.” He shook
his head. “Patrice never struck me as the brave type.”
“He’s
not,” Joshua concurred. “But he’s arrogant, and thinks he can best me.”
Joshua turned icy blue eyes toward his friend. “But he can’t.” A jangle of
harness could be heard coming through the fog, signaling Christophe’s approach.
Joshua and Rene left the carriage and approached the doctor who had been hired
for this event. Joshua observed Christophe as he exited his carriage. The
arrogance was back, Joshua noted. But there were dark circles under his eyes, as
if sleep had been hard the night before.
Joshua
had slept soundly.
“Gentlemen,”
Rene said after a conference with Christophe’s second. “You both know the
rules. We must attempt to solve the dispute once before the duel.” Rene turned
to Christophe. “Viscount Chambless, would you be willing to end this right now,
leave this place by accepting an apology from the Duc de Tournville, and in
return, apologize for striking him?”
Christophe’s
eyes darted between Joshua and Rene. “If his grace will apologize and refrain
from further comments about me, yes.”
“Sir,
you cannot put qualifications on the apology,” Rene informed him. “This is
regarding the Duc de Tournville’s allegation that you are a murder, and your
subsequent striking of the Duc’s person.”
“If
he doesn’t refrain from speaking about me like that,” Christophe countered,
“we will just end up here again.”
“Guaranteed,”
Joshua added.
Christophe
glared at Joshua. “You are a smug bastard, Chasez,” he spat.
“And
you’re a murderous dog,” Joshua responded. “Now, what is your answer? I
have things to do today and must be getting this over with, one way or another.”
Christophe
bristled at Joshua’s casual attitude. “Then, no.” He walked over to Rene,
who held the pistol box. “We’ll just take care of this now.”
Rene
opened the pistol box and Christophe drew one out, waking to his second who
inspected the weapon. Joshua removed his pistol from the box, handing it to
Rene.
Joshua’s
friend inspected the pistol, handing it back to Joshua. “You’re very calm
about this, Joshua,” Rene said. “Are you that confident you’ll win?”
Joshua’s
saw in his mind the face of Britney, so young and beautiful, gone from this
Earth before her time. And Justin, so loving and giving, gone from Joshua’s
arms. “Yes, I am.” was Joshua’s answer.
Rene
looked at Joshua’s set face, nodding in understanding. “Gentlemen!” he
called out. “Please meet in the center of the field, standing back to back.”
Joshua
and Christophe walked towards each other, the animosity an almost palatable
thing between them. They stood back-to-back, pistols held in front of them as
Rene joined them. “At my command, take three paces, turn, and fire.” Rene
stepped back. “Now!” he called out.
The
two men walked away from each other as Rene counted off the paces, keeping a
watch on both parties. At the count of two, he saw Christophe turn early and
shouted a warning. “Joshua!” Joshua turned as a shot was fired, a painful,
white-hot fire burning through his left arm. He observed Christophe as he stood
across the field, smoking pistol still held out in front of him.
And
he smiled.
Justin
scrubbed his face, rubbing his fists into his tired eyes. He looked at the clock.
Nine p.m. He’d been at the shipping office for twelve straight hours. He gazed
again at the papers in front of him, the words and numbers all blurring together
to his tired mind.
But
extreme tiredness was really the only way Justin could sleep at night. If he
wasn’t exhausted, both mentally and physically, he lay awake for hours,
thinking of Joshua.
Always
thinking of Joshua.
It
had been six months since he escaped from France. He had sailed to Baltimore on
one of his own ships and had found that in the time that Justin had been in
prison, Joshua had managed to transfer most of his money and all of his ships
out France.
It
had been a difficult transition for Justin. He spoke little English, but managed
to hire an interpreter who also tutored him in the new language. Now he could
get by with the merchants who he did business with as well as anyone else he
came into contact with. However, Justin mostly stayed by himself, working at his
shipping office. He lived simply in rented rooms above a tavern, eating his
meals there every night, reading books in English and easily avoiding the
serving girls advances. Most of the regulars had accepted the strange Frenchman
in their midst, even going so far as asking him now and then to play cards with
them, which Justin sometimes accepted but usually refused.
So
he had everything. Wealth, freedom, even friendship.
But
his heart was in France.
Justin
bent back down to his work, only to look up as someone rushed into the office.
“Excuse me, Mr. Lake,” the boy said. “But Captain Reeves has just brought The
Corsair into the harbor and would like you to come aboard.
“En ce moment de
nuit?” Justin replied automatically.
“What’s
that?” the boy replied.
“Excuse
moi, I mean excuse me,” Justin corrected himself, shaking his head.
“I said, at this time of night? What does he want?”
The
boy shrugged. “I don’t know, sir,” he said. “I was just sent to fetch
you.”
“Very
well,” he agreed, putting on his coat and snuffing out the candles and lamps.
Justin and the boy left the office and walked the short distance to the harbor. The
Corsair was indeed moored in the harbor. The young sailor pointed to a
rowboat at the dock. “I’ll take you over, sir,” he said, motioning for
Justin to get in the boat.
Justin
climbed up the ladder next to the ship, jumping over the railing and landing
softly on the deck. He looked over the side and watched as the young sailor
rowed away from the ship. “Wait!” he called out. “Where are you going? How
will I get back to shore?”
The
boy ignored Justin’s cries, rowing faster away from the ship.
Justin
angrily hit the railing, wondering what the hell was going on here. “Captain
Reeves?” he called out. No answer. He looked around the deck of the ship,
noticing for the first time it was completely empty. Was there no one else
aboard? Justin wondered. He strode across the deck to the captain’s cabin,
throwing open the door. “Captain Reeves?” he called again, entering the
softly lighted cabin.
“No,
I’m not Captain Reeves,” a voice spoke in the room. “But I hope you
won’t mind too much.”
Justin
watched in shock as Joshua came out from the shadows. “Joshua?”
“Hello
Justin,” he said simply. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Joshua?”
Justin repeated.
“Yes,
it’s me.” A faint hint of worry crossed Joshua’s mind. “Justin, are you
alright?” He walked over to Justin, lifting a hand to the younger man’s
face.
“Joshua?”
he asked again, his eyes finally focusing on Joshua’s.
Joshua
nodded, smiling.
“You
bastard!” Justin screamed at Joshua, lifting a hand and slapping the other
man’s cheek. “How dare you make me leave you?” Justin’s breathing was
hard and rapid, his eyes flashing fire. “How dare you say you love me, then
make me go away!” He raised his hand to hit Joshua again, only to have it
caught by the older man.
Joshua
pulled Justin close to him, lowering his mouth until it covered Justin’s,
tongue forcing Justin’s lips apart to sweep inside. Justin struggled against
Joshua’s hold and mouth, fighting unsuccessfully the emotions caused by
Joshua’s mouth on his, Joshua’s hold on his body. His struggles calmed as he
became a willing participant in the kiss, sucking Joshua’s tongue into his
mouth, moving his lips against Joshua’s, tearing his hand away from Joshua’s
hold in order to pull the older man close.
Joshua
smiled against Justin’s mouth as he felt the boy’s response, lifting his
head to look down at the boy. “I’m sorry,” Joshua said.
Justin
opened his eyes at Joshua’s words, a question in his face.
“There
was really no other way, Justin,” Joshua explained. He reached a hand up to
tangle his fingers in Justin’s curls. “You had to go then or you would have
hanged. I had to stay to finish things with Christophe.”
Justin
blinked. “And did you?”
Joshua
nodded, his mind going back to that morning of the duel. “Yes.”
Justin
needed no other explanation. “Good,” he agreed. “So what now? Are you here
to stay, or will you be sailing back to France on The Corsair in a
week?”
Justin’s
words were casual, but Joshua heard the timbre of uncertainty in his voice. He
led the boy over to the captain’s bed, his hands busy unbuttoning Justin’s
shirt with ease and speed. “That depends on you,” Joshua said, leaning in a
running his mouth down Justin’s neck, leaving a trail of fire on the younger
man’s skin.
“On
me?’ Justin asked, his own hands busy removing garments from Joshua.
“Hmm,
yes,” Joshua said, his breath hot against Justin’s nipple, his tongue
flicking over the sensitive bud drawing a hiss of pleasure from Justin. “I
mean, you have a new life here in America,” he said, moving over to the other
nipple and laving that one with the same amount of attention. “You may not
have room in your life for me.”
“I
might be able to make some time for you,” he said with a laugh that turned to
a moan as Justin shivered at the sensations Joshua was creating, his hands
unsteady as he pulled the shirt off Joshua’s shoulders. His hand ran down
Joshua’s shoulders, pulling away from Joshua as he felt something odd on the
usually smooth skin.
Joshua
felt Justin pull away and lifted his head to observe the younger man.
Justin
looked at the scar on Joshua’s arm, fingers tracing the rough puckered skin.
“You were hurt.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Justin looked at
Joshua, his eyes filling. “You were hurt because of me,” he continued.
“No,
not really,” Joshua said, pulling Justin’s fingers away from the scar and
bring them to his lips. “This was nothing, a price gladly paid for what it
earned,” Joshua explained. “It was nothing compared to the pain I felt
here,” he continued, placing Justin’s hand on his chest so he could feel
Joshua’s heart. “This is where I hurt, where I was empty until I saw you
again tonight.”
He
sat them both on the bed, pulling Justin close. “You weren’t supposed to
matter to me, Justin,” he said plainly. “You were supposed to be a goal, a
bet to win and a toy to play with until I got bored. But I found out I was
wrong. Wrong about you, wrong about me, wrong about everything.”
He
again ran his hand through Justin’s curls, wrapping his hand around Justin’s
neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I found out that you were special,
perfect, that I love you, and that I hope you love me in return.”
Justin
smiled at Joshua’s words. He felt Joshua’s heart beat under his hands, the
rhythm matching his own. Justin lifted Joshua’s other hand and placed it on
his own chest. “Our hearts beat together, Joshua,” he said, leaning in and
placing his lips on Joshua’s for a soft kiss.
“I
believe our hearts will beat together for the rest of our lives.”
Fin