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one in whom Isabelle could confide.

Chapter 4

    The captain lifted his hand, and Isabelle forced herself not to cringe when the knife loomed closer. Instead, she stared as she’d learned to do, offering a blank and impassive face to the hands that meant her harm. She’d seen the transitory nature of the ire of men, and prayed this one’s temperament would be the same.  
    He felt anger at her duplicity; this she understood. She also knew she’d be answering to the Lord on the matter of her manipulation of the truth. As soon as the ship sailed, Isabelle intended to set that situation to rights.
    If he wishes your virtue rather than your gold; what then, Izzy?
    Unprepared for the thought, she pressed away the answer. To trade one sin for another would not serve the Lord. Simply, she would rely on God, and He would bring her home. Captain Carter would merely provide the means.
    Captain Carter.
    Isabelle watched the glittering edge of the knife move closer. With the care of a surgeon, the captain barely touched the tender skin beneath her chin with the point of the blade.  
    “Are you afraid, Mademoiselle Gayarre?” he asked in a rush of breath.  
    Fear does not come from the Lord, for our God has bested the enemy. “You may do me harm, sir,” she whispered, unable to muster a more forceful response, “but my Lord will protect me.”
    Josiah Carter’s face darkened, and he loosened his grip on her arm. Expressions of shock, distrust, and anger drifted across his features as quickly as fog dancing on the muddy waters of the Mississippi.  
    “Your lord , is it?”  
    The point of the knife pressed a notch closer to her skin, threatening and yet not deep enough to spill blood. Only by the strongest of wills did she remain upright and still, silent even in the face of abject fear.
    “So you hold favor with someone of importance.” He shifted to hold her closer against him. “Someone you serve and are either fleeing from or running to, I’d wager.”
    “Yes, ’tis true.”  
    As soon as the words were uttered, Isabelle imagined she would feel the sting of the blade slipping a hair’s breadth into her skin. Pride caused her to bite her lip and hold her silence, while prayer kept her from falling into the gaping chasm of panic.
    His grip tightened once more. “Name this lord of yours, and be swift with the truth of your hasty departure.”
    “It is the Lord Jesus Christ I serve, Captain Carter.” She enunciated each word with care, keeping her chin still as she stared at the man who held her at his mercy. “And it is He to whom I run.”  
    “So you’ve bought passage to England to find the Lord God Almighty.” He shook his head. “Do you take me for daft, woman?”
    Isabelle dared the Virginian’s wrath to lift her head in defiance. “I’ve bought passage to England to serve the Lord’s purpose.”  
    The man’s eyes narrowed. Then he laughed. Of all the reactions Isabelle had considered, this evil chuckle had not been one of them.
    “You serve the Christ by securing passage on the Jude ?” He sheathed his knife and pushed her an arm’s length away, still retaining a grip on her while he burned a slow stare down the length of her body. “Do you take me for a fool?”
    She squared her shoulders. How could she explain what she did not completely understand? The Lord meant for her to board this man’s ship and flee to a country more apt to turn a blind eye to a woman of dubious background; His purpose, she need not know.
    “I take you for an intelligent man, Monsieur Carter,” she said. “I only wish I had the words to explain why the Lord asks this journey of me.”
    “You’re serious?”  
    She managed a nod. All the while, her prayers were being lifted toward heaven. Father, Thy will be done.  
    Carter grew more agitated, as if he had heard her petition for help. “You’re no cowering nun, and I’d hardly call this”—he released his grip to brush a finger along the lace of her