The splendid view from the tall French windows first caught Kate’s eye, but then her attention was quickly drawn to the couple sitting on a sofa, sipping wine.
It was a surprisingly domestic scene for a pirate, Kate thought—one that could have taken place in any refined home in England. The woman was a blond beauty, stylishly dressed, perhaps a few years older than herself. The tall, muscular man wore more casual attire but was exceptionally handsome in a swarthy kind of way. The scar marking his left cheek stood out against his bronzed complexion and suggested his identity was none other than Jean Louvel.
At the entrance of guests, Louvel glanced up politely but froze when he caught sight of Deverill. “Vous! Ce que le diable?”
With a scowl darkening his face even further, Louvel suddenly leapt to his feet and bypassed the tea table in a single bound. Lunging across the parlor, he unsheathed a rapier from its scabbard, then spun and advanced toward them, holding the blade up menacingly.
Kate’s heart stopped in her chest. Before she could even think what to do, Deverill caught her elbow and yanked her behind him, shielding her with his large body.
Louvel halted before them, aiming the deadly point of the rapier at Deverill’s throat. Repeating his curse, the pirate growled, “Pourquoi êtes-vous ici, Anglais?” which Kate interpreted as “Why are you here, Englishman?”
The two men were of a similar height and build, but Louvel clearly had the advantage with his weapon raised ominously, his fierce expression suggesting that he still bore a grudge after all these years.
In response to the threatening act, however, Deverill calmly responded. “Clearly you want to run me through, but you should think twice. It would be a pity to ruin your elegant furniture and carpets with blood—either mine or yours.”
Ignoring the pirate’s incredulous sputter, Deverill glanced across the parlor. The beauty had risen also, a worried look on her face, her concern evidently as great as Kate’s.
“Pray, will you introduce us to your lady?” Deverill added.
“Introduce you!” Louvel exclaimed in a heavy French accent.
Tension was thick in the small parlor. Waiting anxiously for the pirate’s reply, Kate held her breath while digging her nails into her palms. Deverill had taken a big risk, leaving himself vulnerable like this. She questioned the wisdom of his nonchalance—although having grown up with two brothers and a male cousin, she understood that showing any weakness toward a man such as Louvel would only invite more belligerence and earn contempt rather than respect.
Louvel stared back at Deverill and finally shook his head. “Incroyable.”
“What is incredible?”
“You, appearing at my doorstep unarmed.”
“Why do you assume I am unarmed?” Casually opening his jacket, Deverill drew a pistol from his belt and made a show of examining the priming. He was issuing a challenge in return, quite obviously.
Grinning unexpectedly then, Deverill brushed the rapier point aside with a forefinger and lightly cuffed Louvel on the shoulder while adopting a disarming tone. “I have missed you, you hotheaded hulk.”
A disbelieving bark of laughter escaped Louvel. “Me, I cannot credit you. You were always too courageous for your own good.”
“But I am not stupid. I once thought that of you, however. You acted the imbecile, accusing me of besmirching your honor and insisting that I fight you. I told you then, I had no interest in your lover. You didn’t believe me and nearly did me in.”
“Hah! It was you who gave me this scar,” Louvel countered gruffly, rubbing his cheek.
“I merely acted in self-defense.” Deverill looked pointedly at the rapier. “I did not come here to reenact our duel.”
“Then for what reason did you come?”
“To pay you a courtesy call. I have business in these parts, and by all reports, you control much of the enterprise hereabouts.”
Louvel’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What business?”
“I will gladly discuss it with you but not while we are engaged in a standoff. Shall we call it a draw?”
“Oui.”
Though still scowling, Louvel lowered his weapon and stepped back. The blond-haired woman gave a sigh of relief, as did Kate.
“Permit me to make introductions,” Deverill said then. “This is Miss Katharine Wilde. I wish to locate a shipwreck on her behalf. Some fourteen years ago, her parents and uncle and aunt were on board a ship when it went down in this vicinity.”
Louvel was studying Kate. “What, has she the tied tongue? Can she not speak for herself?”
Kate, who was not tongue-tied in the least, answered for Deverill. “Indeed she can, Monsieur Louvel.” But she said it sweetly and offered a soft, submissive smile to take the sting out of her words, suspecting that Louvel would not be pleased to be contested by a mere woman. “Forgive me for nearly swooning. I am unaccustomed to being greeted in such a violent fashion or threatened with a wicked sword blade.”