Antonia's gaze lingered after Thomas for just a moment, the knowing upward tilt of her lips answering the unspoken words in his copper gaze, the gentle squeeze of her fingers in return sealing that promise. Luc though, noticed not in the least his Tante 'Tonia's momentary dalliance, so utterly enthralled was the boy with his precious new treasures. His "Merci" to the privateer captain had been a barely breathless whisper, but it had been there, and he truly hoped he might yet see Capitaine Lightfoot - and the lovely Mademoiselle Beauchamp, and Monsieur Jax - the following day.
The young woman smiled indulgently as she sat on the edge of Luc's bed while he arranged his two new treasures just so on the simple wooden bedside table, the gold piece and the shark's tooth sparkling and glinting in their own scintillating manner in the light of the single flickering candle flame. Antonia stayed by his side until he fell back to sleep, running her fingers tenderly through the soft ebony curls, humming a few of the old, soothing lullabies her mother had once sung to her until, mere minutes later, the boy's heavy-lidded eyes finally - reluctantly - simply had to surrender the effort to remain open even a moment longer this night.
The Parakeet was empty now but for family and lodgers and, wrapped in a simple black cloak about her shoulders, Antonia slipped from the kitchen door, her own night's work not yet complete though by this hour, she truly wished for little more than a pillow for her head. But no... No, not quite yet. There was still one more visit yet to make this night.
Antonia smiled to herself from beneath the shadows of the hood as she maneuvered the stinking alleys and byways of Port Royal with ease, unmolested and unnoticed as she moved toward the finely tended neighborhoods of the cities well-to-do. The magnificent homes rose up all about her like elegant, stately giants, the high walls and the manicured estates growing larger and more impressive the further from the city's center the wraith-like Antonia moved.
She stopped beneath an enormous silk cotton tree and, even in near total darkness, her gaze turned to a grand manor she knew very, very well. Scaling this wall was, truly, child's play to the rogue. She dropped to the other side without a sound, moving swiftly past the darkened windows to the French doors leading into the kitchens. Antonia laughed then, a soft, low chuckle as she eyed the new iron lock, her fingers toying with the mechanism for a moment or two before pulling two thin throwing knives from her belt.
The pin mechanism was tripped within seconds, the young woman slipping inside the kitchens, her steps silent on the slate floors as she moved unerringly in the dark to the parlor. Antonia pulled the hood of the cloak back, one eyebrow lifted with a wicked little grin as she heard a man's reedy voice, heavy with age and mirth, issuing from the depths of a high backed upholstered chair.
"Do you not think that perhaps, by this point in our association, you might yet learn to use the front door?"
"But then how would you ever know it was me?" she quipped easily, moving swiftly toward a nearby candelabra atop an ornate walnut stand. The only light in the room came from the smoldering embers of a fire that still glowed brightly in the grand marble fireplace. Antonia took up a poker in her free hand, and stirred the glowing ash back to a brief life. A piece of dried kindling was all she needed, to light the candles and turn to better face her host.
Age-spotted hands rested over the blankets that covered his thin body, white casts over his eyes testifying the reason for a lack of any lights to greet Antonia's arrival, as blind as the elderly man was in that chair. His hair - though still impressively thick - was entirely white, brushing softly over his forehead and to his thin shoulders. But when he smiled in the direction of her voice, there was not a thing at all frail or old to be found in that sweet Summer smile.
"Now why are you down here and not in your bed, my dear Nathaniel?" Antonia asked gently, crossing the room once more. She set the candelabra down once more before kneeling beside his chair, her chin resting on her forearm as she peered up into his face, the fingers of her other hand gently caressing the man's arm.
"You are late Antonia, and I worried you might yet have found a trouble even you could not extricate yourself from." The man's thin hand lifted from his lap, slowly reaching toward the rogue's head, resting only when he could touch the soft, curly hair of her head tenderly.
"There is no such thing, Nathaniel," she said softly, the warm Creole voice all reassurance as she looked up into the blind man's face. "But I am here now - and you should be to bed."
"Only if you promise to read to me first," said Sir Nathaniel Greene, former Royal Navy Admiral, Knight Bachelor, fabulously wealthy and intrepid merchant - with all the impish glee of a much-loved and terribly spoiled child.
Antonia laughed, standing to her feet as she reached for the nearby cane leaning against the opposite chair arm. "As you will Nathaniel, but you will be abed before I read a single word, my dear friend." She placed the silvered handle in his hand, pulling the blankets from his legs and tossing them over one shoulder before she offered him her own arm as well. "You know very well you ought not be sleeping like this - "
"And you know very well you ought not break into a man's home in the middle of the night, and yet here you are," he interrupted with a laugh, rising slowly between the support of his cane and Antonia's arm.
"Touché" the rogue replied with a grin, before the man spoke once more.
"The young, most erstwhile Commander Murphy left his card earlier as well," Nathaniel said as they moved to his chambers, the candelabra returned to Antonia's free hand. "I took the liberty of having a card returned for my dearest niece Antoinette. I imagine he should be joining us for breakfast."
Antonia's smile widened further still as she leaned to kiss her friend's soft, thin cheek. "Are you sure you were not born to intrigue, Nathaniel?" she teased.
"No, my precious thief," the elderly man laughed as he felt her lips to his cheek. "I am afraid it is a life I found thrust upon me all unawares one night some years ago. Perhaps you know the tale?"
Not even a promised thunderstorm yet *lesigh* Oh well, at the very least, Heroes like meh post! XD
Yes, yes by far better than working long hours all weekend Wordsmith, for sure! And wonderful post too - made me grin, seeing Nestor can be sooooo sardonic when he wants to be! 