My Seaswept Heart (6 page)

“Actually—”

“We have quite a bit to offer, Captain.
Besides this fine wine, we grow sugarcane and are trying our hand
at indigo. Granted, we are still small, however I have every hope
that our colony will grow as more and more people hear of our grand
experiment.”

“And as long as d’Porteau leaves us in
peace,” Anne interjected.

“Now, Anne, don’t go worrying the good
captain here with talk of that one. He is not worth thinking
of.”

“Uncle Richard, he and his men killed several
of our citizens, they burned our houses and fields. They took
Arthur.”

Richard slowly shook his head. His forehead
creased and the excitement left his eyes. He looked first at Anne,
then Jamie. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I do believe my niece is
correct.” But he looked strangely like a man agreeing because he
thought he should.

Was Anne Cornwall fantasizing about
d’Porteau’s attack? Jamie didn’t think so. She was too passionate
about her cause. But then why didn’t her uncle share her feelings.
He appeared more excited by his wine, than the fact that a pirate
had ravished his island. And what was more amazing was that his
niece didn’t pursue the subject. She merely guided the conversation
back toward the philosophy of the island, a subject her uncle could
clearly discuss at length.

He spoke of John Locke and his Law of Nature,
and how the government of Libertia was modeled after the
philosopher’s doctrines. “We are a democracy here on Libertia,” he
said proudly. “Every man has a vote in what occurs. Whether we
plant sugar, or...” His face regained the puzzled expression of
moments before. But quickly, almost before anyone noticed the
pause, Anne said, “Indigo.”

“Yes, yes, that’s it, indigo.”

On and on he went, yet Jamie found he admired
the old man despite his zeal and long-windedness. Finally, Anne
interrupted with a suggestion that her uncle needed to rest.

“Yes, yes,” he agreed. “Unfortunately the
body grows weaker as age claims it,” he said to Jamie. “But a short
rest and I’ll be as good as new. You are staying with us awhile,
aren’t you?”

“Nay.”

“Yes.”

Jamie and Anne spoke simultaneously, turning
to stare at each other as they did.

Jamie was the first to look away. “I fear
I’ve business elsewhere that must be attended,” he said with a bow
toward the older man.

“Nothing that can’t be postponed till
tomorrow, I’m sure,” Anne countered, only to receive the full force
of his glare.

“Uncle Richard.” Anne stood, rushing forward
to fall on her knees in front of his chair. If she didn’t do
something and do it quickly the captain would leave. She hadn’t
missed the pistol stuck in his breeches. There was nothing keeping
him from taking the sloop and returning to New Providence. Nothing
but his gracious attitude toward her uncle. And Anne wasn’t above
using that courtesy against him.

“We must protect ourselves from d’Porteau.
That’s why I brought Captain MacQuaid to the island. He can help
us... if he will.”

“Now just wait a damn minute.” Jamie stopped,
shocked by the guilt he felt in speaking his mind in the only way
he knew to do it. What was it about Richard Cornwall that made him
feel ashamed of his profanity? Lowering his voice, Jamie continued.
“I thought I made it clear to you Mistress Cornwall that I am not
going to fight your battles for you.”

“But I thought—”

“What, that I’d see this island and be struck
with an overwhelming desire to throw down my life for it?”

“Of course not,” Anne insisted, though that
was pretty much what she hoped might happen. Oh, not that he’d
throw down his life, but that he would want to help. Everyone loved
and admired her uncle. Everyone. Even Israel. It was merely one of
those facts of life that Anne had learned to accept like the sun
rising and the trade winds blowing.

But Captain MacQuaid wasn’t giving himself a
chance to appreciate her uncle’s fine qualities. To understand what
he was trying to do here. He was simply standing there glaring down
at her, his green eyes blazing.

“Don’t look at me as if I’ve disappointed ye.
It wasn’t my idea to come here, and don’t ye forget it, Annie. If
not for the drugged wine I’d be—”

“It isn’t necessary to tell us where you’d
be.” She knew what he’d been doing before the sleeping potion took
effect. And so did he.

“Drugged wine.” Richard’s expression
registered bewilderment. “What do you mean by that, Captain
MacQuaid?”

He’d said too much and he wasn’t even drunk.
Jamie clamped his mouth shut, wishing he didn’t let his lips move
faster than his brain. Sure and he was angry with the wench for
drugging his drink and bringing him here, but he could understand
desperation. Lord knew he could understand that. Not that he
planned to do anything about hers. But he didn’t mean to spill his
guts to the old man either. Except now it was too late.

Jamie shifted from one foot to the other. “I
suppose you’ll be having to ask your niece that.”

Anne could feel all eyes shift toward
her.

“Well, Anne, what is the good captain talking
about?” Richard asked.

Good captain indeed! “He’s referring to the
means I employed to bring him to Libertia.” She sucked in her
breath. “I drugged his wine so he’d fall asleep.”

“Anne, my goodness. Why ever did you do that?
Reason, dear, is the way we deal with reasonable men.”

“Yes, well, Captain MacQuaid is not a
reasonable man.”

“Annie.” Richard shook his head slowly. “You
shouldn’t—”

“He’s not, Uncle Richard. He’s a pirate.”

The announcement didn’t seem to faze the old
gentleman in the least. To be honest, Jamie wasn’t sure he
understood what his niece told him. He had the oddest desire to sit
Richard Cornwall down and explain the realities of life to him. But
of course he didn’t. Richard Cornwall’s problems were of no more
concern to him than his niece’s.

He bid Richard a good rest, but the older man
seemed to have forgotten his desire for a nap. And then though Anne
protested, he insisted upon showing his guest around the
colony.

To his chagrin Jamie accepted the invitation.
But he planned to make it a short tour, and then he was sailing for
New Providence.

“Remember, Cap’n, I’ve got me eye on ye.”
Israel sidled up beside him, patting a pistol he’d thrust into the
waistband of his pants. Indicating it was more than his eye he’d
aim Jamie’s way if he didn’t watch himself.

Jamie only scowled, deciding not to point out
that he had his own gun, then forced his attention back to Anne
Cornwall. What did Israel think, that he planned to grab the girl
and her uncle and hurl them into the sea? He might be a pirate but
he wasn’t an uncivilized scoundrel. Well, perhaps he was a
scoundrel, but he prided himself on not harming innocent people.
And Richard Cornwall seemed a complete innocent. But his niece sure
the hell wasn’t. Mayhap he
would
toss her to the sharks if
given the opportunity.

Jamie caught Anne’s eye as she explained the
workings of the sugar mill. She ignored his glare as she led the
way inside a stifling hot building where the thump thump of the
water powered roller near drowned out her voice. But Jamie wasn’t
interested in how the wheels squeezed the dark brown liquid from
the ratoon cane. And he didn’t think Anne really cared about
telling him.

“Everyone who is able takes their turn in the
sugar works,” she said as they stepped outside into the blinding
sunlight. “It’s part of the philosophy of—”

“Even you?” Jamie arched his brow in mock
disbelief. He had noticed that unlike the sugar plantations in
Jamaica and the other islands he visited, this one lacked slave
labor. At least the slaves who came from Africa. Bur he assumed the
workers were indentured.

“Oh, yes, yes, Annie takes her turn with the
sugarcane. She’s quite adept at judging when the syrup is tempered.
Though I feel her greatest gift lies in managing the
plantation.”

“I imagine that
would
be her
forte.”

Ignoring the jibe and smug expression on the
pirate’s face, Anne led the way toward the edge of a clearing. She
paused before a mass of charred boards. “This,” she said with a
flourish of her hand, “is the warehouse where we store the sugar
cones. At least it’s what is left of it after d’Porteau’s
visit.”

Jamie said nothing, just stared at the
destruction... senseless destruction.

“Nasty man that Frenchman,” Richard said with
a shake of his head. And then as if he suddenly remembered
something pleasant the older man’s countenance brightened. “Have
you been a student of John Locke for long, Captain MacQuaid? I find
his view on the government fascinating, don’t you?” Richard took
Jamie’s arm and lead him back toward the village.

The helpless expression the pirate threw over
his shoulder toward her would have been amusing if the
circumstances were different. She was in no mood to come to his
aid, though as her uncle rambled on about the merits of Locke’s
theories, it was obvious Jamie MacQuaid had no earthly idea how to
respond.

“I think perhaps the captain would enjoy a
tour of the fields,” Anne said as she moved between the two
men.

“Oh, of course, whatever was I thinking?
Certainly you wish to explore all of Libertia before deciding to
bring your shipload of settlers here.”

“Settlers...?” Jamie’s eyes cut toward
Anne.

“There is always room on our island for those
who wish to join our grand experiment.” Richard’s smile was
indulgent. “Go see for yourself the paradise of Libertia, then
please join me for tea.” He clasped Jamie’s shoulder. “I shall
endeavor to find Arthur. You would get on with my son very
well.”

“Let me find him, Uncle Richard.” Anne
stepped forward, clasping the two frail hands in hers. “I think you
should rest a bit. You remember what Doctor Phillips said.”

“Ah yes. The bane of aging. Resting when
there is so much to be done.” Despite his words the older man,
leaning heavily on his cane, started off toward the row of
cabins.

“I’z still behind ye, Cap’n, so don’t go
gettin’ any ideas.”

Glancing behind him Jamie saw that Israel’s
fingers were wrapped around the gun butt. “Do ye think I couldn’t
overpower you before that gun cleared your breeches if I had a mind
to?”

“Well, now, you can try it, Cap’n, but I
wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Israel, we haven’t time to wrangle. I wish
to show the captain the havoc his fellow pirate wreaked on the
sugar fields.” Without a backward glance Anne set out on the path
that led toward the jungle. It wasn’t until she heard Israel’s
voice that she realized the pirate failed to follow. “What is
it?”

Jamie stood arms folded over his bare chest,
chin set defiantly. “I have no intention of seeing fields of any
kind. Nor do I plan to prolong this charade. If you don’t wish to
see this
friend
of yours broken like a twig, you will find a
way for me to return to New Providence, now.”

“I see.” Anne struck a pose mirroring his.
“It was my understanding you were interested in Libertia.”

“Interested!” Jamie let out a bark of
laughter. “Ye have to have more brass than the whole British navy.
Whatever gave ye such an idea?”

“Well, you listened to Uncle Richard
and—”

“I listened to your uncle out of respect.”
Jamie held up his hand to keep her from interrupting. “And aye,
despicable pirate though I am, I do not spit in the face of all
authority.” His gaze held hers. “No matter how grievously I’ve been
treated.”

She knew he meant the drugged wine and
kidnapping. Of course that’s what he meant. But when he looked at
her like that, his wicked green eyes narrowed, Anne couldn’t help
thinking of the things he was doing to her before he fell asleep.
Anne shook her head to dispel that notion. “I naturally assumed
once you saw for yourself—”

“You were wrong, Annie.”

His use of her name like that and the lift of
his mouth beneath that dark beard was more than she could take.
“You’re no better than d’Porteau.” Anne’s hands were on her hips
now as she glared at him across the narrow expanse separating
them.

“I never claimed to be.” He was, of course.
Jamie considered himself vastly superior to the Frenchman in just
about every way that mattered. But it was obvious this overbearing
woman didn’t think so, and he wasn’t about to argue the
differences.

Especially when she seemed in no mood to
listen. Jamie watched as she stamped down the path and then whirled
about to face him. “Then there is nothing else to say.” She glanced
toward Israel who stood, his bandy legs spread, the pistol gripped
in his hand. “Please take him down to the pier. He can take the
sloop.” She sighed. “Might as well give it to this pirate as have
d’Porteau kill someone over it.”