Authors: André Jensen
black thought to sully the memory of their heated encounter. She quashed the feeble
sentiment outright. She had asked him for one night of freedom. And he had offered it to
her. It was unfair of her to expect him to give her more, however much she ached for it.
He stepped beside her, a towering shadow, and brushed her cheek with the pad of his
thumb. “Good-bye, Sophia.”
He stepped away from her and slowly merged with the darkness.
She fingered her flushed cheek as she listened to his heavy footfal s crushing the jungle
leaves.
“Good-bye, Black Hawk.”
When we’ve left each friend and brother,
When we’ve parted wide and far,
We will think of one another,
As even better than we are.
“PARTING,” CHARLOTTE BRONTË
B eams of sunlight pierced pockets in the forest canopy, illuminating the ethereal
terrain. Sophia hiked along the narrow dirt path at a brisk pace, eager to reach the cave.
She still had a long journey ahead of her, and she needed funds before she traveled into
town to obtain supplies. She had informed her father about the trip; however, the man
had a short memory. She had to return home before it was dark, or he might forget
everything she had told him and panic, wondering if perhaps she had forsaken him.
Sophia paused and sighed. She had considered it once: deserting her father. Two years
ago, after a stormy row, he had challenged her tooth and nail, believing her to be her
mother. He had even aimed a pistol at her, thinking she was about to poison his food. She
had eventually convinced him she was his daughter, that she wasn’t going to harm him.
However, the traumatic affair had taxed her strength, her spirit even. Hopelessness had
filled her soul, and she had ruminated about taking a piece of the brigand’s treasure and
abandoning him to his madness.
But she had not.
Sophia wiped the sweat from her brow. She resumed her hike, passing tall stalks of
bamboo. She stil ed again.
Slowly she reached for the delicate white blooms, mesmerized by the miraculous petals.
She fingered the soft floral underside in awe. The bamboo flowered once every thirtythree years. She wasn’t likely to see it, feel it again in her lifetime. It was as old as…James.
Sophia closed her eyes, the sensuous blossoms stirring memories of the pirate’s sensual
touch, his breath. The buds had last sprouted around the time he was born…and now
again the year she had met him. Nature was like a calendar, marking time, recording
singular events.
She scoffed at the romantic rot. The brigand had come from the mist and offered her a
dreamy tryst before he had vanished back into the blackness. She would not see him
again. It wasn’t providence, their meeting. It was random chance.
A Giant Swallowtail Butterfly fluttered across the dirt path. Sophia gazed at the black
creature with brilliant yellow stripes and a wide wingspan…as large as James’s hand.
She huffed and cut through the jungle. She saw James in everything, it seemed. It’d
been three days since she had parted from him, and still he pressed on her thoughts.
Meeting the brigand might not have been cosmically ordained, but he had uprooted her
weary world, and now she was filled with a keen hunger for a more intimate connection: a
spiritual connection.
Sophia slowed, crushed by the profound knowledge that she was all but alone on the
island. The little time she had spent with James reminded her of how much she needed
another voice—a sane voice—in the house, a warm touch, a bond that transcended
physical pleasure. The ache wel ed deep inside her, crippling her legs, and she stumbled,
overwhelmed by the truth that she might never form such a bond, that she might never
know true camaraderie or trust or joy.
A branch snapped.
Sophia’s heart pinched. She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the woods, but the
leafy stage was peppered with harmless plants and trilling birds. However, she had learned
to trust her instincts and slowly removed the pistol from the satchel strapped across her
bust, crouching.
She listened for foreign footfal s, but the pounding beats in her head muffled the noises
coming from her surroundings. She eyed the jungle instead, scanning the lush terrain for
movement…and spotted the rustling ferns.
Armed redcoats slunk through the dense vegetation, like two hounds stalking prey. The
bloodthirsty villains heralded strife and death, and she lifted off her haunches, blood
pulsing through her veins at a wild tempo, and pointed the pistol at one of the marching
men. She was a skil ed markswoman…but she was outgunned.
The soldiers stilled and aimed their muskets straight for her head.
“Put down the pistol,” ordered a redcoat.
Sophia considered darting through the bush. Musket fire wasn’t very accurate. But she
suspected, at such close range, the lead balls would find their way into her backside…and
then who would take care of her father?
“Now!” he barked.
Sophia maintained a firm grip on the weapon, her heart thundering in her breast. If she
lowered the pistol, she would be at the mercy of the ruthless redcoats. She might disarm,
even kill one of the villains with a single shot. The other, however, would strike her dead.
Fingers quivered with repressed rage as she struggled between two poor choices, sweat
gathering at her brow and under her arms…but at last, she lowered the pistol at her side.
“Drop it!”
She was reluctant. In her moist and shaky grip, the steel-and-wood flintlock offered her
some protection. She would sooner place the barrel at her own skull than submit to the
brutal beasts…but then who would take care of her father?
Sophia gnashed her teeth and beat back the wretched tears that burned her eyes before
she let the weapon slip from her stiff fingers.
The flintlock landed on the leafy forest ground with a soft thump.
The soldiers smirked.
“We only want some information from you, poppet.”
Horseshit!
The redcoats killed and maimed and ravished the rebellious islanders. There was no
room for “talk” within their vicious regime.
One man approached.
Sophia girded her muscles for the wicked assault, blood throbbing in her veins,
pumping into her heart. The organ ballooned in her chest until her breastbone ached
under the surging pressure.
“There was another uprising last night.” The redcoat licked his sweaty lips. “Where are
they hiding?”
“Who?” she said quietly.
“The Maroons, poppet.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where they are.”
“I think you do.” He rested the musket against his shoulder, leering at her. “I think
you’re one of their whores, and you know exactly where we can find them.”
Sophia twirled on her heels and dashed into the woods, but the brute grabbed a fistful
of her long locks and yanked her roughly against his frame, twisting her neck and forcing
her lips to meet his foul breath.
“Tell me where they are, bitch!”
He was going to rape her whether she offered him the information or not, so she spit
in his eyes to spite him.
The crack across her cheek blinded her for a moment, and she dropped to the ground
in a daze, every nerve thrumming in her body. Blood filled her mouth, stained her lips.
There was a swelling pressure in her head, squeezing her skull.
Sophia screamed as a weight crushed her back, pressing her breasts into the dirt,
wrenching the breath from her lungs until she choked and gasped.
“Tell me, poppet,” he said hoarsely in her ear. “Tell me!”
She wriggled and thrashed under his heavy muscles, seeking air. She sensed an
unnatural strength welling inside her, and she bucked her hips to get him off her
backside, but he rolled with her wild outbursts, keeping her hair locked in his fierce grip
and her hands pinned under her belly.
“Eager for a fuck, are you?”
She sobbed deep in her breast as he fished for her hem, raking the garment over her
legs. The other redcoat smiled and maintained a firm watch with the musket.
“I get her next, Paul.”
Sophia didn’t want to know her attacker’s name. She didn’t want to know anything
about the savage dog. She wanted to cut off his toes and pick her teeth with his bones.
She wanted to strip the flesh from his muscles and hear his woeful wails.
He grabbed her quim, pumping the flesh with his fingers. “Hmm…you’re a tasty dish.”
She wanted to vomit. She kicked her legs and screamed inside her bones. He deepened
the polluting assault, ramming his fingers inside her tight body.
Sophia felt like she was drowning in thick, dark mud. Brain and body alike screeched in
protest. She struggled in pain, but he overpowered her.
“Hold her, David.”
No! No! No!
The other redcoat dropped the musket and knelt at her head. He braced his arms on
her shoulders and pinned her to the ground, while his brutal cohort stripped his trousers,
divesting himself of his Tarleton helmet during the brawl. She pinched her legs together,
her heart swelling in her throat, but the devil wedged his knee between her thighs, forcing
the limbs apart.
“A good fuck might stir your memory, poppet.”
Sophia suffocated on her tears. She stiffened as she sensed the cusp of his filthy
erection slip between her buttocks.
“Is this what you’re looking for, poppet?”
She screamed in silence…and then she gasped for sweet air as the heavy load was lifted
off her backside.
Sophia coughed, spitting blood and tears. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes darting,
but the redcoats were already dead or unconscious, their heads knocked against a tree. She
eyed the blood splattered across the bark with pleasure.
Black Hawk stood over the limp carcasses, burly legs braced apart, fists clenched, chest
heaving. She spied him through her tears, like a hazy dream, and she sobbed and laughed
in both gratitude and pain.
He looked at her. The rabid blackness in his eyes burned bright. Soon, though, the
pristine blue pigment returned, and his sharp breathing mellowed.
“Sophia,” he rasped.
It sounded so sweet, the way he said her name. The low and familiar sound comforted
her wild heartbeats.
“I…I’m al right,” she stammered.
She smeared the blood, the tears from her features. She was trembling, vicious shakes
that rattled her teeth. She was sore, too. Every bone throbbed in agony from the brutal
assault. She sat on the ground for a quiet moment, grasping for her wits, her breath.
The leaves crunched under his sandaled footfalls as he advanced toward her, and she
flinched.
He stilled.
“I won’t hurt you, Sophia.”
She sighed. “I know…I’m just…”
She hiccuped.
He crouched instead. “I have to touch you.” He opened his fists and spread out his
fingers in an unthreatening manner. “Let me see if your bones are broken.”
She gathered her skirt and curled her legs together, wincing. “I’m al right.”
But he cupped her ankle. “No, you’re not.”
Softly he fingered her leg. She swatted at his hand. He grasped her wrist and moved
closer toward her, hunkering at her side.
“Your lip is bleeding.”
She pushed him. “I’m fine, damn it!”
Sophia staggered to her feet and wavered, muscles smarting. He captured her before
she stumbled, his hold firm and yet tender. But she yanked her arm away from him.
She wanted to weep. Three nights ago, his touch had been like balm, so comforting
after so much solitude. However, now his touch was as sinister as that of the redcoats. It
was al in her head, she knew it. He would not hurt her in such a vile way. But right then
she couldn’t stomach the intimacy.
She turned away from him and wiped the blood from her mouth, eyeing the lifeless
figures sprawled in the dirt. Bile filled her belly. It seeped into every pore of her being.
She gathered her shaky strength before she slammed her foot into one of the villain’s
cods. She attacked the other limp form with frantic zeal, too.
After she had wasted her energy on the redcoats, she retrieved the pistol and returned it
to the satchel before she resumed her hike, heading for the cave.
James followed behind her. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t even talk to her. He
remained firmly at her back as she scaled the mountain range.
At length, he said, “I can carry you.”
She shook her head, her cheek swelling. She had enough strength to keep moving, for
vim was stil coursing through her veins at a rapid rate. However, she appreciated the
pirate’s company even if she wasn’t ready to accept his help. She didn’t want to be alone
in the woods. There might be more redcoats skulking through the thick vegetation.
The steady drum of crashing water soon whispered in her ears, and she moved toward
the sanctuary in eager strides. She was covered in filth, and she squirmed in her own skin,
yearning to cast off the layer of smut.
Sophia paused at the edge of the lagoon. She gazed at the welcoming water, a blended
array of sapphire blue and emerald green. A tal and narrow waterfall spilled from the