A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (9 page)

Ronan kicked ash back into the fireplace. “How do we avoid this?” 

“You must each follow your destiny. Forces will happen which you all must accept. The good and the bad.” She patted Mariah’s arm but focused her gaze on William. “You must leave with these men tonight and go to their ship.”

Mariah wet her lips. “But…”

“
Oui
, they are vampires. Do not worry,
mon chérie
. You will need vampires and a dragon to protect you. The
capitaine’s
mate will be an ally. She can move objects with her mind.”

“You know Hannah,” Kane said, wariness heavy in his voice.

“I have a gift for her,
Capitaine
. A moonstone. Mariah shall show her how to use it.”

’Twas absurd to believe the crew of the
Soaring Phoenix
could protect Mariah. They’d failed miserably so far in protecting Hannah, almost lost her twice, once to her deranged fiancé and their last confrontation with the
Fiery Damsel
. “Mariah will be at risk if she comes with us,” William said. “She stays here.”

Morgana jammed the tip of her cane into William’s chest. He winced. “Look, crone.” He grabbed the tip of her cane.

“Listen, you stubborn dragon.” Morgana jerked the cane out of his hand. “She is not safe here. Natasa knows about her gifts and shall send Palmer to capture her. She will then have both my grandchildren. I shall not have it. I am leaving you in charge of her welfare. She is your destiny.”

“Destiny?” William glowered. Sharon’s ashen face flashed in front of him. Her silky blond hair tangled around her head like a wild gypsy. Ruby lips parted as if waiting for a kiss. Her green gown molded to her luscious body. Not even death could steal her beauty.

He had brushed her hair back and had kissed her stiff lips good-bye, wetting her cheeks with his tears, wishing those pouty lips would respond and kiss him back one more time. To see her green eyes filled with laughter and smile one more time. To inhale her dewy morning smell one more time. He had rested his head on her forehead and inhaled. But there was no fragrant smell, only the emptiness of death. He had been too slow to defend her, just like he had been too slow with his mother.

He gazed at Mariah. Every muscle tensed at the thought of seeing those beautiful violet eyes listless like Sharon’s. “No.”

Morgana met his steely gaze. “Then prepare to be Natasa’s slave.”  

***

Mariah bit back her tongue. William looked at her as if he wanted her to toss her into the ocean and be done with her. She wanted to slap his handsome face and shake him. She was not some kind of novelty witch. “I will go pack.”

Grabbing
Grand-mère’s
black velvet bag, she slid away from the table and flounced out of the room. Behind her, muffled voices murmured, but she didn’t care what they were saying. Lark’s life was at stake. And if
Grand-mère
felt like she could rescue Lark, then she would match wits with a she-demon. Even if it meant she might die in the process.

Heavy footsteps trailed after her. She glanced over her shoulder, quickened her step, and raced into her bedroom. 

William stomped after her, apparently not caring that he invaded a woman’s sanctuary. He was too close, and all she could think about was when he’d awakened in her lap naked. He’d been magnificent with his sculpted body, sleep in those emerald eyes, thick hair tousled around his face. When he’d sat upright and crossed his ankles, she could not help but steal a glimpse at the dark hairs that tapered down to the juncture of his legs. His manhood had been erect, and she should have had the decency to blush, but instead, she had an impulse to caress it, to see what it felt like and pretended to lean over to grab her satchel.
Mon Dieu
, she was tempting fate, and now fate was in her room. Alone.

William edged closer, and his grim face turned her gut into a knot. For a moment, she was a little girl about to get a spanking for defying her better’s order. She refused to allow him to intimidate her.

“Mariah,” he said.

“I am coming with you, William.” She tried to put distance between her and him and not to inhale his charcoal scent that made her want to kiss his lips. But with his long strides, he easily overtook her.

He seized her arm and whirled her around. She was forced to look into his intense emerald eyes that were filled with warring emotions. She thought she detected concern, despair, arrogance.

“I can’t let you do this,” he said.

“You do not have a choice. Your brother is
capitaine
, not you, no?”

“I’ll deal with Kane,” he growled. “We can find another way. I’m begging you to stay here and be safe.” Fear flashed in those eyes.

She cupped his stubbled cheek. “I understand you are worried about my safety, but I am a witch. A powerful one.” At least, she hoped she was as powerful as
Grand-mère
professed her to be. She did not know if she was trying to convince William or herself.

“So, you’re brother is a weak witch?”

She stiffened and dropped her hand. “No, Lark is not weak. He has strong magic.”

“Yet he is Zuto’s slave,” he murmured.

“If Zuto had your brother, would you stay away because ’twas safe?”

He turned and relaxed his grip. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Taking her chance, she moved. “Then how can you ask me to stay away?”

“Because I don’t want you to see what I’ve seen, Mariah. War changes you. Watching people you love die robs you of your soul. I don’t want you to grow hard and bitter.”

His low voice caught her attention. He was warning her, preparing her for the worst. “Is that what happened to you?” she asked, her voice small. “Have you watched someone you care about die?”

“Aye, I have. And I don’t want you to go through that same pain.”

She wanted to argue that she could handle it. But could she watch her brother die? Beneath William’s stubbornness and arrogance was a man haunted by the pain of war, and he wanted to shield her, protect her. For the past year, she’d had to be strong to care for her ailing grandparents and a headstrong brother, and to have someone take the upper hand muddled her mind. 

Who had he lost in the war? Before she could ask, he clasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Your hand is so soft and fragrant.”

The brief kiss ignited the fire in her belly and stole the words from her lips.

His gaze shifted to her lips, which she couldn’t help but moisten. He pulled her close to him. His rapid heartbeat pounded beneath her hands. He wanted her. The heat of his body, the smoothness of his skin, and the warmth of his breath heightened her senses. Her skin tightened everywhere, and her knees weakened. She clung to his arms and parted her lips.

He crushed her to him and captured her lips. His masculine scent of a smoldering wood stirred her loins, and she opened her mouth, anxious to taste him. He did not disappoint. Their tongues intertwined, dancing together, exploring each other’s secrets. His kiss was demanding, alluring, possessive. Her legs threatened to give away. She moved her hands up his muscular arms and clung to his massive shoulders.

Ever since she had fled from France with Lark, her grandparents had protected her, kept her hidden from the men in the village. She had stolen kisses at dances, but never wanted to bring a man home, never wanted him to touch her, never wanted to have him caress her bare skin. Until now.

What was she doing? She had never kissed a man, not like this. Nothing that released the wanton passion buried deep inside her. What if she got caught?

She sighed against him, and her hands moved under his shirt and down his back, his muscles rippling beneath her fingers. His naked skin excited her, and she liked caressing him, feeling his heat beneath her hands. William stirred passions she’d never known existed. His kiss deepened, his touch took her to exotic places and set her blood on fire.

He released her, and she couldn’t breathe. Strong hands massaged her shoulders, and he pushed her onto her bed, forcing her to sit. “Mariah,” he whispered. “I can’t let you follow us.”

She tilted her chin. “If you do not, I will board another ship and follow you.”

He dropped his hands. “Palmer will find you.”

“
Oui
, he will. I shall be prepared to deal with him.”

William ran his hand through his hair. “No, you won’t. Palmer’s a devil. You have no idea what he’ll do to you.”

“He is torturing my brother. After
Grand-mère
and
Grand-père
, Lark is the only family I have left. I will not let him die. Not if I can help him. I am powerful, William. You will have to trust me.” She edged away from him. “If you do not mind, I need to pack.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “There’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind?”

“No, there is not.”

“Fine.” He glowered. “Then, I shan’t let you out of my sight. Pack.”

She avoided his angry prison guard stare and grabbed her velvet bag off the floor. She glanced around her room then focused on the three porcelain dolls sitting on her top shelf. Once she left this room, she would be facing a demon without
Grand-mère
, without her brother. Alone.

She grabbed the black-haired porcelain doll, stroking the soft hair and inhaling the lavender scent before she placed it in the bag. 

“Why the doll?”

Mariah cleared her throat. “My parents made me it.”

“And?”

“My father carved it into my mother’s image, and she has my mother’s real hair. I just want to bring it. Do you have a problem with this,
monsieur
?”

He clasped her chin. “No, I don’t. How old were you when your mother died?”

“Twelve.”

“I was ten when I lost mine,” his voice was hushed and pained.

He obviously had loved his mother as much as she’d loved hers, and her anger toward him melted. He leaned closer, and his warm breath brushed over her face. He kissed her. Closing her eyes, she leaned into him again, feeling his strength. His kiss deepened, and strong arms wrapped around her. She clutched him tighter, wanting him to believe that she was strong enough to face Zuto, needing him to believe in her before her self-doubt crushed her. 

“William, we’ve got to be moving. Now.”

Kane.

William released her.  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and Mariah stepped away, hiding behind William’s tall frame. 

“She’s still packing.”

“Then have her pack. Now.”

She rushed to her dresser and quickly packed her bag, making sure the doll was always on top. She grabbed her leather journal and her oak wand.

“What is that?”

“A wand.
Oui
, my father made it for me.”

He snorted. “You think a wand is going to stop Zuto?”

How could she be attracted to him one minute and the next want to dump a bucket of water over his skeptical head? She put her hands on hips. “Wands are powerful. Mandrake is inside the wand, and it will enhance any spell I use. The amethyst quartz at the tip heightens the energy in the ritual.”

He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his eyebrow.

She wanted to grab her wand and turn him into a bullfrog, but she was not that powerful. Rash emotions led to evil incantations, and she could not afford to make any mistakes. She took a cleansing breath to wash away the frustration pooling inside her and walked back to the dresser to grab her silver chalice and matching silver athame.

“Why the dagger?”

“’Tis an athame. Not a dagger. I need it for my spells.” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but he was baiting her. 

He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. Her rope of patience was sizzling, and her anger threatened to burst through. She seized the black, leather, spell book off her top shelf and shoved it into her bag. William lifted his eyebrow, and she stomped over to her shelf to snag her silver bell. She wanted to ring it in front of his ear to drive him mad like he was driving her insane. She snatched her altar pentacle and hurried to her bag. Having had enough of his smirking, she headed for the hallway. “Coming?”

William blocked her. “You’re a fool if you think those talismans can fight against the dark forces of the underworld.”

She swallowed hard and met his hard stare. “William, I have lost both of my parents, my
Grand-mère
is dying, and my brother is in danger of becoming a warlock, someone who I might be forced to destroy.” Her voice choked. “I know what I am up against. Do you?”

“Aye, I do.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hallway. “A stubborn witch determined to march to her own death.”

She glanced into Lark’s room and pushed on William’s hand. “Stop. Wait.”

William grumbled, “
Jaaysus
.”

But he released her. Mariah rushed into Lark’s room and grabbed his wand and his spell book. She placed both items in the bag.