Jillian Chantal

This week’s word for Tuesday Tales is life. I’m still working on my 1739 story set so far in Jamaica. The hero and heroine are visiting a plantation to obtain information on the heroines putative father, a famous pirate. Their host is Nathaniel, an old man who sailed with her “father” and his former prostitute girlfriend. The girlfriend and the hero have a past relationship. This partial scene is the night of their visit.

Visit the other posts here to read the other tales using this word prompt.

Almost as soon as Nathaniel left me alone and I was able to get out of my breeches, Cecily arrived at my room. She was trying to be quiet but she was also demanding to be let in. I couldn’t believe she would do it knowing Nathaniel was already at odds with her over her flirting with me all evening. He was watching, I know it.

I ignored her and tugged my breeches back on before climbing out the window. Circling back, I went in a side door and crept to Lydia’s room. It was vital she let me in so I could pretend to our hosts that we were truly lovers. It was the only chance we had to survive.

Nathaniel wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if he thought I was trying to seduce Cecily. It appeared to me that the man had fallen in love with the former prostitute. And a man in love was a dangerous thing. I knew from personal experience.

For a few moments, I didn’t think Lydia was going to open the door but she eventually did.

As I slipped inside the room, her eyes widened. I presumed at my attire. I hadn’t take the time to pull on my boots so my legs were partially bare as well as my feet. My linen shirt hung out of my breeches and I had no other items of clothing on. Grass stuck to the bottom of my soles.

It was painfully obvious I was making her nervous but I had no nefarious purpose in being in her presence in such a state of dishabille. This was a matter of life and death for I had no doubt Cecily intended to climb into my bed, followed shortly by Nathaniel with his knife to gut me.

“What do you mean, you could be killed?” she asked. A hand fluttered to her throat. “Has Nathaniel tried to use that knife on you he had earlier?”

“Not yet but I’m sure if I stay in that room he led me to that I’ll be dead by morning.”

“Good Lord what have you done?”

Could she truly think I’d done something to alienate the old man? After what had happened earlier on the day? “Of course not. I might have taken some chances in my life but I’m no fool.”

“I didn’t think you were but you must admit? This is an unusual occurrence.”

Her gaze raked over me. “Neither of us is dressed for entertainment.”

“My dear Lydia, I must disagree.” Her expression alerted me to her lack of amusement. Before she could toss me out, I took a step toward her with my hand out. “I beseech you. Allow me to stay. I’ll not make any more jests.”

“If you’re in so much danger from Nathaniel, shouldn’t we get the horses and cart and leave now?”

“I’m only in danger from him if I don’t stay in this room.”

“What do you mean?”

“It should be as obvious to you as it is to me that Cecily intends to invade my bed. When she does”–I slid my index finger across my neck–“Nathaniel covers
the mattress with my blood.”