Isabella: The Novel Ch. 01-05

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, Captain sends his regards and request you dine with him this evening."

Isabelle, not apologetic, dismissed the cabin boy and told him to return in thirty minutes to give her time to freshen up.

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Chapter 4

As they sat afterwards with drinks, Isabelle included, although it was something typically frowned upon for the women, Isabelle enjoyed and partook of the after dinner drink. The captain provided Isabelle all the news he could.

"So you see, Isabelle, it is grim indeed."

Dinner was excellent. They must have slaughtered a lamb for the meal; even the crew was pleased to be having fresh meat.

"Tell me again. Captain; I am afraid I don't understand why you plan on surrendering the Northumberland."

The Captain took a deep breath. "Isabelle there is a first rate French ship, the Atlas, chasing us. The captain, Alexandre Cara, is a devil. I have no idea how he is getting so much speed out of his ship. She has one hundred guns and should be much slower than us. He has more cloth rigged than I have ever seen. His men love him if the stories are true. They are unlike the rest of the French, rarely drunk, disciplined, uniform and willing to fight like devils."

"But the Northumberland is a ship of the line, sixty-four guns, newly out of refit barely a year old, surely with some of the British tactics we are so famous for we could..."

"I am sorry Isabelle, as she gains on us she is running fast ahead of her fleet. We caught a glimpse of at least seven ships as we were trying to maneuver to lose the Atlas in the fog. I could possibly beat Captain Cara, but any damage to the rigging would cost me the ship in a day or two.

No, no man will die needlessly under my command."

The captain continued, "As a lady you will be treated well. The Frogs are nothing if not honorable to the fairer sex. I'm sure after five or six months they will ransom you and you will be able to make your way to your William."

Isabelle was struck dumb by this notion. Five or six months in a prison only to see her William at the end of the sentence? It seemed like moving from one horrible sentence to another. She had not realized how much she had enjoyed her pirates and her adventures—even if they were only in her mind.

The captain spoke again when he realized Isabelle was lost in troubled thought. "If you'll excuse me, we will run tonight, and I will scuttle my orders from London. This way even if they have a diver he will not find them. At first light we will hoist a white flag, stow our canvas and wait. You should head below Isabelle and prepare yourself, although for the short term there will be little change in your lifestyle. Lieutenant follow me, the Northumberland will surrender to Alexandre Cara of the French ship the Atlas on the eighth day of May seventeen hundred and forty four."

Lieutenant Oxford swore: "A black day for us."

As Isabelle prepared herself and her belongings for the surrender of the Northumberland, she contemplated this Alexandre Cara, capable of getting a French first rate ship to gain on a 64gun British ship. What type of man would he be? Would he be cruel? Would he lock her up? Without knowledge of what was going to happen, her mind raced as she prepared to place herself in the hands of an enemy.

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Chapter 5

At three p.m. on May eighth, the Northumberland became property of the French. The officers were taken prisoner, the ship's sextant seized. The men who swore an oath not to mutiny could continue their work until the Northumberland made it back to France.

That left Isabelle. When Captain Cara learned of the passenger, he provided quarters for her and ensured her belongings were brought aboard the Atlas. He also invited Isabelle to dine with him. She refused the invitation quite vocally. Captain Cara made it, so quite simply, she did not eat that night.

The next day, the invitation was extended again. This time it came with a warning that such an invitation would not be extended a third time. Isabelle was angry and hungry, and she was unsure if the threat meant there would be no food if she refused the invitation. She conceded and accepted, but she was not happy.

As she entered his cabin, she intended to inform this devil captain, Captain Cara, exactly what was on her mind. But then she saw him. She found she couldn't speak. He wore a simple blouse with black trousers. There was no insignia of his rank visible on him, yet she knew this man was the captain. He had an aura of authority about him, and he was stunning. He had a broad chest, muscled arms from hard work, and a face that somehow she recognized. But surely she didn't know this man? She shook off the feeling and sat, trying to hold on to some of her anger and rage.

The captain began, "Wine Isabelle?"

"You can call me Mrs. Stanford or Milady."

"No to the wine then."

"Yes to the wine."

"Pardon me, Isabelle?"

"Yes to the wine."

"I'm sorry, Isabelle, I didn't hear you."

There was a pause as Isabelle struggled internally with being treated like a child. She finally answered with a tone that was far too sweet.

"Yes to the wine, please."

The captain ignored the sarcasm, and continued,

"It is an excellent vintage. I am sure you'll enjoy it."

Alexandre poured Isabelle a glass, which she drank quickly. As it was the only sustenance she had in her system since breakfast the day prior, it went quickly to her head. Alexandre was sure of himself and able. It was obvious to her that he was a hard man, her empty stomach confirming that assumption. He continued to speak, "Tell me, Isabelle, does your husband please you?"

Isabelle was struck dumb again. She had to be mistaken; surely he hadn't just asked what she thought he asked.

"I ... I am not certain I understand the question."

"Does he please you in the bedroom."

Isabelle exploded, the wine and the anger caused by her hunger fueling her wrath.

"Captain Cara! That is a question best never asked. It is none of your business and none of your concern!"

She stormed, she blushed, she felt... exhilarated? Surely it was the wine.

The captain, not to be deterred, started on a different line of questioning. "Isabelle, is he your husband? I don't mean did you both go to a ceremony where some stodgy old man said some words and pronounced you man and wife. I mean, is he your husband? When you gaze into his eyes, do you see your soul? Do you see your partner, your true love? Is he the person that you know that you are supposed to be with? Do you feel it in your bones? Like knowing the sky is blue. You simply know."

Isabelle was furious. It was like he looked into her soul. She turned the question about.

"Are you married?" asked Isabelle.

Not flustered, by the deflection of his question, Alexandre simply answered, "I said some words in a church once, there was a woman who said some words, we were young, too young. She could not bear to have me gone; I could not bear to be near her. We have both moved on. Since then, I've not found the eyes of my dreams. So I would say that I am not married. The church would say otherwise. So Isabelle, does he please you?"

Isabelle, after a moment of quiet thought, remembered to be furious and got up. "Good night.

I am a married woman. I don't need to listen to this. I will starve this evening rather than partake in this perverse conversation."

With that she got up from the table and made for the door. Alexandre grabbed her and kissed her. It was a kiss not born of simple physical lust, it was born of desire, a desire to recognize, a desire to know, a desire to explore. Isabelle fought his lips, his musky scent, his heavy hand on the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her hair. She fought, but not with all her might and not for long. Isabelle was smitten. The kiss lasted a little too long and was a little too good. It took her breath away. When Alexandre broke the kiss, Isabelle longed for it again. Did she feel his tongue in her mouth? Where did that thought come from? Surely she had never experienced anything like it before. Remembering herself, she turned to go.

"Isabelle."

She turned back to him. "Yes?" she said breathlessly.

"Better than..." He paused for effect. "...pirates?"

Alexandre asked as he handed her back a book that was all too familiar to her, her journal where she recorded her thoughts about William, her doubts of marriage and most recently, her notions of pirates.

"Please dine with me again tomorrow evening."

Isabelle slammed the door and stormed back to her quarters. Alexandre smiled and issued an order to his steward: "Soleil, take a plate down to Isabelle."

Soleil quickly complied.

~~*~~

Chapter 6

Her quarters were an upgrade from the Northumberland. She was fuming. With only a half a glass of wine before storming out, she was hungry and humiliated. At least she had her journal. And she had been kissed like she had never been kissed before. If she closed her eyes the hunger was replaced by the kiss. She could still feel it; his lips as they pressed firmly onto hers, the parting of her lips, not willingly she was certain, his tongue first tentatively touching hers then becoming more urgent, his hand firmly on the back of her head holding her in place.

As she checked her journal; she was distracted by Alexandre. He was the most handsome man she had ever met, he had a wonderful beard slightly graying and the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. She wanted to find out what had driven him to kiss her. Was it knowledge he found within these pages? Or was it something else? She read. She found her journal entries of William and her doubt about their marriage. She read her entries of hatred of all things intimate. Further down, she found her loves; her loves of all things science, of all things technical, her curiosity of how systems work. There were entries with comments on the latest scientific journals, complete with sketches and etchings. These were all things William thought were nonsense. They were part of her journal that she kept hidden. He wouldn't have his wife waste her time on them.

As she continued to read, she came across the truth. Her chats with Lieutenant Oxford on how British sailors worked. Alexandre must be looking for secrets. She was quite sure she didn't have any secrets.

She heard a knock and shook off her musings.

"Come in."

"Captain's compliments."

With that Soleil put a tray of food down and withdrew. Isabelle attacked the food ravenously. She ate and drank until she was sated. Satisfied. Satisfied, that was it, wasn't it? William was not the person she needed to be with. But why did she come to this conclusion? With whom then? Was there someone? Was this yearning for someone simply part of her restlessness? She pondered this while framing it in Alexandre's words. She thought, William is not my husband. But how did she know this? That feeling of recognition for Alexandre came over her. She quickly dismissed it.

As she sat mulling over these questions, the kiss kept intruding. The wetness of the kiss seemed to be reflected in wetness between her legs.

Something she had never felt before, not like this. All at once it came to her: the captain felt that perhaps she was his soul mate, his partner, his wife.

She realized the absurdity of this sentiment and at the same time she realized it had merit. She would accept his dinner invitation and they would discuss this absurdity as well as her lack of secrets. At least she would get some more of the excellent wine.

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