My Seaswept Heart (38 page)

“How did you escape him? Wherever have you
been?” Anne hugged her cousin closer. “Oh, never mind all that. I’m
so happy you’re home.

“You just can’t imagine how upsetting this
has been for Uncle Richard. Have you seen your father yet? Oh,”
Anne pushed away with a laugh, “of course you haven’t! I’ve kept
you as much a prisoner as d’Porteau ever did.”

Despite her words Anne wrapped her arms
tighter and buried her face in his shoulder, unaware that the man
she was holding, and the man she loved were staring at each other.
And that their expressions were anything but friendly.

They stood on the dock. The small schooner
that brought Arthur to the island bobbed at anchor, the handful of
sailors still busied themselves furling the sails.

“Come. Come. We must go find Uncle Richard.
Arthur, he just hasn’t been the same since you left. But I’m sure
now that you’re—” Anne paused, catching her breath and realizing
that though she had Arthur by the arm and was doing her best to
pull him toward the settlement, he didn’t move.

“What...?” she began and swallowed as she
caught sight of her cousin’s face... and the direction of his
stare. She whirled toward Jamie and the chill in his eyes made
gooseflesh pepper her skin. “I don’t under—”

“What is this... this
man
doing
here?”

Anne stepped away from Arthur, unconsciously
placing herself between the two men. A few other settlers had come
down to the dock when Arthur arrived, but most of them had wandered
back to the village to spread the word.

“Arthur,” Anne began. “I don’t think you
realize what has happened here. This is—”

“I know who he is.” Arthur’s hard gaze left
Jamie to focus on his cousin. “The question is, do you?”

Anne let out a breath of amazement. She
couldn’t believe the way her cousin was acting. “Yes, yes, I know.
I also know he saved us from—”

“What he has or hasn’t done is immaterial.
This is Jamie MacQuaid.” His jaw jutted out defiantly. “And he’s a
pirate. No doubt he’s part of some deadly plot with his friend
d’Porteau to destroy us.”

“No, don’t... please.” Anne’s hand pressed
against Jamie’s chest; the pleading look in her eyes, stayed him
from grabbing Arthur. And Anne had no doubt what the outcome of any
altercation between the two would mean to her cousin. But there
were more ways to be hurt than being beaten to a pulp. She meant to
protect Jamie as well. “Let me talk to him.”

“Talk all ye want, Annie. Will do no
good.”

“Annie, is it?” Arthur raked his gaze over
his cousin. “How well do you know this blackguard? Did I save you
from rape at the hands of one pirate only to have you become the
whore of another?”

She couldn’t stop him this time. Jamie was
around her, his hands buried deep in the bunched-up fabric of
Arthur’s jacket before Anne could do anything. She’d never seen
Jamie look so fierce as he did now, the tendons in his neck
standing out in bold relief, his eyes no more than shards of
blue-green glass. He lifted Arthur up so that his toes barely
touched the sand.

“If I ever hear ye talk about Anne like that
again you’ll think the time ye spent on d’Porteau’s ship a stroll
on the beach.” His knuckles tightened until Arthur struggled to get
loose. “And ye have the word of Captain James MacQuaid on
that.”

“Jamie, don’t. Please.”

Anne’s pleas finally penetrated Jamie’s fury
and he dropped Arthur, sorry to see he didn’t fall on his arse when
he landed. But Anne clutched at his arm, helping to steady him.
Jamie didn’t think he liked Anne very much at that moment. He
definitely felt the full impact of her displeasure when she looked
at him.

“I asked you both to stop.” Her voice
softened. “For my sake, please.”

Jamie fisted his fingers, and his jaw ached
from clenching it, but he kept his hands to himself, though he felt
the need to point out what she obviously missed. “’Tisn’t me going
about calling ye names, Annie.”

“I know that.” Her eyes flashed to Arthur,
who stood trying to straighten his rumpled clothing and resurrect
his dignity. “Arthur, I won’t ever forget the sacrifice you made
for me. D’Porteau would have ravished me, killed me more than
likely, if not for you.” Her shoulders straightened. “But that does
not give you the right to say what you did. About me, or about
Jamie MacQuaid.”

“If you’re expecting an apology, don’t.” He
swallowed nervously when Jamie shifted his feet. “Not that I blame
you, Anne. It’s just I know what kind of man this is. And I know he
has no business being on Libertia. I demand he leave
immediately.”

“No, Arthur, I—”

“As it were, Annie. I believe ’tis finally
something your cousin and I agree upon. I shall leave this
island... immediately.”

“Jamie, don’t.” Anne tried to catch his arm
but he was already moving away from her toward the shore. She
turned to Arthur, but there was no help there. He stood, his narrow
shoulders squared, a smug expression on his thin face. “Oh!” She
was so exasperated with the both of them she could hardly stand it.
With Arthur for being the pompous fool she always thought he was.
And with Jamie for allowing Arthur to have his way.

Grabbing up her skirts Anne raced after
Jamie, catching him just as he approached a group of men gathered
on shore. They appeared curious as to what was happening between
Arthur and the captain. Mort Tatum was there and Matthew Baxter,
and to Anne’s relief Israel. If anyone could talk sense into Jamie
it was the old pirate.

“I’ll be leaving,” Jamie announced to the
group. “It was a pleasure knowing ye and... well, I hope you’ve no
more trouble from d’Porteau.”

“Ye wants me to gather up your stuff, Cap’n?”
this from Israel whom she’d hoped to solicit as an ally. Anne
couldn’t believe it.

“Thank ye, Israel.”

“No, wait,” Anne called, but the grizzled old
man was already hurrying off toward the village. So she turned to
the men who in her uncle’s stead were Libertia’s leaders.

“Surely you aren’t going to allow Captain
MacQuaid to be forced off Libertia after all he’s done for us?”

“No one be forcing me, Mistress Cornwall. I
made my thoughts clear on that earlier.” His eyes held hers and
Anne felt the sting of tears.

“Yes, I know what you said, but—”

“I mean it, Annie. ’Tis no good can come of
this.”

She was going to cry. She was going to break
down and fall to her knees in front of everyone, begging him to
stay if she didn’t get away. Turning on her heel she began walking
toward the bank of trees to her right. She didn’t stop until she
felt the gentle pressure of Jamie’s hand on her arm.

He’d followed her, leaving the other men
staring after them in bewilderment. Not caring except for what they
might think of Anne after he left.

“Anne, ye must know this is for the
best.”

She just shook her head, refusing to face
him, not wanting him to see the tears wetting her cheeks.

“Annie....” The pain in his voice seemed as
genuine as her own.

“How can it be right, when it feels so
terribly wrong?”

She heard him swallow. “I won’t touch ye,
Annie. Kiss ye as I’d like.” He hesitated and when he spoke again
Anne thought she heard heartbreak to match her own. “But, Annie, I
have to leave ye. Please understand.”

She did. Anne shut her eyes, letting out her
breath on a deep sigh. She hated that he was leaving, but she did
understand. And knowing why made everything seem all the more
hopeless.

He broke his own rules by lifting his hand
and cupping her shoulder. But Anne never knew what he was going to
say for at that moment Israel yelled from the pathway.

“Got yer stuff, Cap’n, and me own.”

It took a moment for the words to register
with Jamie. Then he looked around, annoyed by the interruption...
glad for it. “What are ye talking about, old man?”

“Goin’ with ye,” Israel yelled. “I’ve got
seawater runnin’ in me veins and it be time I answered its
call.”

“Take me.” Her voice was so low Anne wasn’t
sure if Jamie heard her until his fingers folded over hers.

“I love ye too much to do that to ye,” he
said and then he was gone.

Anne jerked her head around but he was
already striding toward the wharf, his powerful gait eating up the
distance quickly. Israel jumped into a rowboat, unlashing the oars
as Jamie shoved the hull into the foaming surf... and Anne could
watch no more.

But she did make her way to the secluded
beach where they’d made love and she waited for the
Lost
Cause
to sail by. She could almost hear the song of billowing
sails, feel the wind hard in her face, taste the salt, and know the
freedom.

Almost.

~ ~ ~

She didn’t die of a broken heart.

Though Anne thought that a definite
possibility at the time, as the weeks went by, she knew it wasn’t
going to happen. At first she wasn’t sure it was necessarily a good
thing... but at times death seemed preferable to the longing that
swept over her... now she was glad to be alive. Someone had to talk
with Arthur, and it appeared she was the one to do it.

Anne knocked on the door of the office that
used to be hers, opening it when her cousin bid her enter. He was
seated in a winged chair he had brought from Richard’s house, his
feet resting on a stool, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Yes, Anne.” He eyed her over the goblet’s
rim as he took a sip of amber liquid. “What did you want?”

He offered no seat, nor did Anne want one.
She paced the length of the small room, then turned to face him.
“Uncle Richard seems to be worse.”

“Oh?” Arthur took another sip of wine. “In
what way?”

“Perhaps if you visited your father you would
know.” To Anne’s surprise, Arthur had moved into a cottage left
vacant by a family who’d quit the island after d’Porteau’s first
raid killed their son. Arthur said at the time he needed some time
to himself after the horrors of imprisonment aboard the Frenchman’s
ship, and Anne had sympathized. Even without his frequent reminders
that his capture had been a result of saving her.

But now, nearly two months after his return
to Libertia, after his escape from d’Porteau, Anne wondered about
his reasons for ignoring his father. Actually she wondered about
quite a few things regarding Arthur. Her fingers tightened around
the brooch in her pocket. She barely listened as Arthur listed his
excuses.

“Besides,” he said. “I know you will come
here every day with reports and recriminations.” He stretched out
his legs. “What is your complaint today?”

“You mean other than your neglect of your
father?” Anne raised her chin, then continued when her cousin
merely glared at her. “Actually I have several.”

“Well, make them quickly. I am busy.”

“Really?” Anne arched her brow. “Then perhaps
you can explain why there has been nothing done about arranging for
a vessel to transport our sugar cones? A meeting should have been
called—”

“For what reason?” Arthur rubbed his
prominent nose. “All those gatherings to decide who does what and
when, are a waste of time.”

“They are one of the foundations that
Libertia was built upon.” One of the cornerstones her cousin was
slowly chipping away, at least according to all the citizens who
came to her with complaints.

“He makes all the decisions himself, without
a by your leave,” Matthew Baxter remarked.

“’Tis true,” Lester Perdue agreed. “Why just
yesterday Arthur had Elmer Dodd thrown into jail without so much as
a trial. When I questioned him about it, he told me to mind my own
concerns or I’d be joining old Elmer.”

Arthur simply shrugged his narrow shoulders
now. “Perhaps we should rethink the way things are handled around
here.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Now if there’s nothing
else.”

“Actually there is.” Anne took a step closer.
“I mentioned your father.” She ignored the thinning of his already
narrow lips. “He’s taken to roaming about. He wanders everywhere on
the island seemingly unaware of his destination. Besides my concern
for his safety—”

“A lock and key might be in order.”

“Perhaps you think we should jail him as you
did Elmer?” Anne said, then hurried on. “But that isn’t the point
at the moment.”

“Then pray get on with it and leave.”

“This morning I found Uncle Richard wandering
along the beach. He was clutching this.” Anne pulled the
ruby-encrusted brooch from her pocket, holding it in front of her
for Arthur to see. “You do recognize it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He fluttered his hand. “It’s yours, I
believe. You really should take more care with your
belongings.”

“It hasn’t been in my
care
for quite a
while, Arthur. Not since d’Porteau stole it, along with the rest of
my mother’s jewels.” When her cousin made no comment, Anne
continued. “Naturally I was curious as to where Uncle Richard found
the brooch.” She paused. “He told me it was in your cottage.”

“And you believed him. The old man is madder
than a rabid dog.”

Anne’s spine stiffened in response to
Arthur’s description of her beloved uncle but she reminded herself
that arguing over Richard’s condition was not her goal. “I did have
my doubts, but when he led me back to your cottage and showed
me—”

“You entered my home uninvited?” Arthur
yelled, jumping to his feet. “I shall have the both of you jailed
for thievery.”

“’Tis more you who should bear the name
thief. Arthur, several of the jewels are hidden in your chest. My
mother’s diamond necklace, the emerald ring. Where did you get
them?”

“I don’t answer to you.” He took a menacing
step forward. “I don’t answer to anyone.”

Though frightened Anne held her ground. “Tell
me how my jewels came to be in your possession. Did you take them
from d’Porteau when you escaped?” That had been the only logical
explanation... the only explanation that put Arthur in a favorable
light... that Anne had come up with. And she expected him to
embrace it readily.