Raven Quest (18 page)

“With you, yes.”

“She's used to Port Royal—”

“Which she hated.”

“And the freedom she had there.”

Ernest grabbed Nathan's sleeves and thrust his chin out. “She adjusted to Havana, which is much more stringent than Maryland would ever be. I don't think you're worried as much about her as you are about yourself. You never imagined a woman like Rory Mullins when you set out to find the
Raven.
You had your life all mapped out as clearly as you wished the route to the gold had been. First you'd find the treasure; then, returning home, you'd marry some boring planter's boring daughter and raise a household of boring children who would waste your fortune.”

“Ernest, that's absurd.”

“Is it?” He started across the deck, then turned. “If it's so absurd, why are you standing out here in the rain instead of being with Miss Rory in your cabin?” He strode away.

Nathan clenched his fist on the rail. Ignoring the spray that sliced into his face as he walked to the ladder that led to the lower deck, he shook his head. It couldn't be that! He couldn't be upset at the idea of having Rory in his life. Heavens above, he had offered de Palma a huge share of the gold for the chance to save her from Yellow Hal Warwick. He had given the pirate the promise of an even larger share of the
Raven's
gold to ransom Rory off the
Scourge.

But he could not imagine her living in Maryland colony. She would be ostracized, for the truth of how she had been raised could not be kept concealed forever. Any web of lies they spun would be torn apart by the truth.

Pausing by the door to his cabin, he reached for the latch. He drew his hand back. He knew what he wanted. He had sailed these blasted waters seeking it for more years than he wanted to recall. When he returned to Maryland, he intended to see all those who had laughed at him regret their quick judgment and wish they had signed on to find a dream. He wanted each of them to long to trade places with him as their jeers became envy at what he had found here in the Caribbean.

Envy at what he had found here in the Caribbean.… He pushed back his wet hair again as he watched his hand reach for the door. Opening it, he stepped inside. The stormy afternoon's shadows were thick, but Rory's hair still glowed like her father's fabled gold. It was spread across his pillow. Her face was lying in profile to him, and his gaze followed her pert nose and the curve of her cheekbone that led to her stubborn jaw and defiant chin. And her lips, her soft, luscious lips.… Craving tightened along his body as his eyes adjusted to the dim light so he could see her shapely leg sticking out from under the blanket. He wanted it entwined with his as he relished her touch and the pleasure waiting in her arms.

Rory Mullins, Aurora Raven Mullins, daughter of a privateer and an indentured servant, was the prize he had found in the Caribbean. She had dreams as big as the sea and a heart as deep. She fought like a man, was as easily hurt as a little girl, and loved him with a woman's touch. She asked nothing of him but that he let her love him.

With a groan, he dropped into his chair. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his palm. Ernest was right. He could not imagine taking Rory home to Maryland, but he could not imagine leaving her behind either.

Nathan was not sure how long he had sat there, watching her sleep. A sharp knock brought him to his feet and to the door. He opened it to see Alfred on the other side.

The cook grinned and stepped inside to set a tray on the table. “Ernest said you might want to eat here tonight, Cap'n.”

He started to hush the cook, but Rory sat up rubbing her eyes and keeping the blanket close to her. “It's all right, Nathan. I'm awake.”

When she yawned, he chuckled and asked, “Are you sure?”

“How long have I been asleep?”

He pointed to Alfred, who was dripping water on the floor as he pulled a cloth from over the food. “It's time for supper.”

“Already?” She started to swing her legs over the side of the bed, then pulled them back, an endearing flush climbing her cheeks.

Alfred kept his eyes lowered as he said, “All set for you, Cap'n. You'll want to drink the chocolate while it's still warm.”

“Thanks.” Nathan clasped the cook's arm. “Not just for this, but for your help with Warwick's men.”

The cook's color became as ruddy as Rory's. He nodded and rushed back out into the storm.

“Did I hear him say chocolate?” Rory asked as she stood. She gasped and almost fell as the ship rose on a wave and dropped sharply.

Nathan took her arm and guided her to the chair. The blanket tumbled off her shoulders, and he savored the sight of her dressed only in the chemise that clung to her beguiling curves. “Chocolate and some fish that must have been caught before the storm came up.”

She clutched the chair. “How bad is it?”

“The rain is easing.” He looked out the window. “The waves should calm down soon, too.”

“And then the
Scourge
will be visible.”

He massaged her tense shoulders. “Sweetheart, Warwick has been stalking you all your life, even though you didn't know it until a few weeks ago.”

Pouring two cups of chocolate, she handed him one. He sat on the bed and sipped it.

“Is Ernest joining us?”

“I doubt it.” He winced.

“What's wrong?”

Curse her keen eyes!
He hated lying to her, but how could he be honest with her when he was no longer certain what the truth was? “Everyone's tense about what's going to happen when we reach Raven Isle.”

“Raven Isle?” She laughed, a sound belonging to the sparkle of sunlight on the sea. “Why not Aurora Isle? We're traveling east into the sunrise.”

“Raven Isle seems a better fit.” He took another sip of his chocolate. “This is good, Rory.”

“Everything tastes good to me.” She took another forkful of fish. “Yellow Hal didn't see fit to feed me. Maybe he thought he could starve me into parting with the map.”

Putting his empty cup on the table, he reached past her and lifted the coral box off the shelf. “I wish I could have known your father, Rory. He must have been a remarkable man to arrange all this, to make sure his child got his gold.”

“I wish I could have known him, too.” She took the box and ran her finger along the shells. “I know he could never have guessed it would turn out this way.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. Remember, he suspected Warwick would try to find the
Raven
's gold.”

She set the box back on the shelf. With a shiver, she stood. “Nathan, I'm sorry. If I had had any idea that Yellow Hal was really in Havana—”

He folded her hands between his and drew her down to sit beside him. “Sweetheart, you told me what you saw.
I
didn't believe you. I convinced you that seeing him was only a trick of the sun.”

“I did see the Blindman, too.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

Stroking her soft hair, he rested his cheek on her head. “I never really told you how sorry I am that—”

“I'll see his death avenged. Somehow.”

He chuckled.

She sat straighter and frowned at him. “You don't believe me?”

“I believe you.” He smoothed the lines from her forehead. “I was just enjoying the thought of how you would make Warwick pay. Boiling oil maybe?”

“First, we have to get to Raven Isle and get the gold.” She looked down at her hands. “Nathan, I know you promised Yellow Hal a share, but my father wanted to keep him from having any of it.”

“But your father wanted you alive. That's what the share of gold is buying. Your life.”

“And yours? Yellow Hal has no reason to keep you alive.”

“He must, unless he wants to drag my corpse all over the island.” He stood and went to the closet. Opening it, he drew out an iron manacle. With a grin, he dropped it on the bed.

“Do you always give women such fancy jewelry?”

He did not laugh as he knelt in front of her. “This is no joke. It may be your salvation when we reach Raven Isle. With one end around your wrist and the other around mine, Warwick will have to deal with us as a team.”

“Is that what we are?” Her eyes began to glow with a soft light that sent a quiver through him. “Are we a team?”

Instead of answering, he pulled her up into his arms. He had no answer. He did not know what they were. All he wanted to think about was her in his bed with him. As he teased the curve of her ear, her arms swept around his shoulders.

“Maybe,” he whispered, “I'll try out those manacles on you right now. That way, I'd always keep you in my bed.”

She put her hands on both sides of his face and tilted it so she looked up at him. “There are other ways, much more pleasant ways, you can keep me here.”

Her soft words sent a lightning hot longing through him. She moaned softly as he loosened the ribbons on her chemise. She sighed as his fingers wove a path of pleasure along her spine. He drew the flimsy cloth down her back, lowering it until it fell at her feet.

As she opened his shirt, her fingers trickled down his skin like soft rain. Each touch threatened to send his mind careening. Tossing aside his shirt, she leaned against his chest as she loosened his breeches.

“Rory …” He must be honest with her.

“Hush,” she whispered, her tongue outlining his lips as she pushed his breeches to the floor. She drew back and yawned.

“Still sleepy?” he teased. “After you slept away the afternoon?” Before she could retort, he yawned, too. “Now you have me doing it.”

“If we're going to sleep together, we might as well tire ourselves out.”

“Sweetheart, we should—”

“Talk later.” With a laugh, she shoved him back onto the bunk.

He stretched out an arm and toppled her on top of him. She laughed, then pressed her lips to his. When his fingers swept up through her hair, she drew them away.

“The back of my head's still tender,” she whispered.

Fury threatened to overwhelm him as he thought of how Warwick had abused her. It faded when she bent to murmur against his ear, “So we'll have to make love this way.”

With a moan, he claimed her lips with a fervor he could not govern. His gaze held hers as his fingers rose to cup her breast. When her eyes closed and she gasped his name, he pulled her up so he could bring its tip into his mouth, taunting it with his tongue. She moved against him, offering him what he ached for.

Tipping her onto her side, he ran his hands along her. When he touched the softest surface of her inner leg, she arched toward him. He pulled her even closer.

Her legs entwined with his, just as he had imagined. As his lips moved along her throat, her fingers slipped over him. He closed his eyes and let pleasure surround him.

He steered her lips to his. The deep thrust of his tongue into her mouth ignited his all-consuming desire. His fingers probed her most intimate secrets as he pinned her to him, savoring every motion of her against him.

Drawing her up over him again, he pushed back her soft hair so he could see her face as he brought their bodies together. For one perfect moment, he watched her eyes light with ecstasy. Then, he captured her lips again, moving with her. As her breath strained against him, he heard her gasp of rapture before he gave himself to infinite pleasure.

Something exploded. Not an explosion of the joy of holding Rory in his arms, but something that threatened to rip apart his ears.

Nathan rolled over and fell onto the deck. He tried to stand but his legs refused to hold him. Clawing his way to his knees, he rested his head on the rumpled sheets.

“Rory?”

He got no answer. Raising his head, he saw that the bed was empty.

Another explosion. Pistols firing!

He fought to stand. The ship shuddered with an explosion, and he collapsed onto the bed.

The deck tilted at an impossible angle, and objects rained off the shelves. Rory's coral box fell, shattering. He struck his head on the bed. Everything whirled madly.

He was unsure if a moment or an hour passed before he could grip the window sill and force his legs to hold him. The ship was sailing fast but not at top speed. He strained his ears but could hear no more explosions. What had happened?

Balancing against the wall, he lurched to the door and threw it open. Blood splattered the deck. Two men lay contorted only a few feet from the door. He tried to reach the closer one and fell to his knees. Hearing orders shouted from the stern, he paid them no attention as he turned the man over. Alfred's eyes stared lifelessly up at him.

Hearing running feet behind him, he looked up to see Ernest rushing toward him. “What happened? Who killed Alfred and—” He squinted at the other body. “One of Warwick's men?”

“Both of them are Warwick's men,” Ernest growled, helping his captain to his feet and pulling Nathan's arm around his shoulders so he did not collapse again. “Alfred sold us out to Warwick.” He pointed at the bow where the mast was broken. “We all would have gone down if Warwick's gunners had had better aim.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ernest helped him to sit on the steps to the lower deck. “We were betrayed by one of our own.”

Nathan cursed weakly. “Alfred?”

“He didn't give Warwick's men any sleeping powder. They only pretended to be asleep. He saved it for the
Vengeance
's crew. Put it in the chocolate he served with supper, knowing everyone not on watch would drink it. When most of the crew was sound asleep, the
Scourge
nearly ran us down.”

Fear ripped away the last of his drowsiness. “Rory?”

“She's gone, Cap'n.”

“
Gone?
” He shook his head. Had someone fired a ball into him? The pain in his gut was so intense. He should have seen this coming. Warwick had been too agreeable about handing Rory over. Now it was all too easy to see what the pirate had planned. Knowing she would never give him the route to the gold, he had given her back to Nathan long enough to fix a course. Then he had stolen her again.