Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure (10 page)

She quivered but she wasn’t sure if it was from racking fear or sheer desire. She only hoped he didn’t notice. Either would be detrimental.

“Well, Miss Whitney. I do believe our arrangement has come to its pivotal juncture.”

“Indeed.” She put the cards away and rose to face the captain. Her muscles bunched from tension, ready to react to whatever he might do. He stared hard at her for a long moment, a darkness warring within his blue eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh. “I was irrational the other night.” His frown deepened. “Too much rum.” He petulantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I will say no more of it.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but Lianna would be a fool not to accept it. By the distressed look on his face as he looked away, she would think he preferred a bullet in the temple to apologizing.

She offered a small smile when he looked back. “I assume you have found me passage home?”

“Aye. Unfortunately, not on board the
Widow Maker
. You’ll have passage on a merchantman bound for Wilmington. I know the captain. He hadn’t planned to stop at New Providence but agreed to drop you at Nassau. It should be a safe journey.”

A tinge of sadness flitted through her. Her adventure on board a pirate ship was coming to an end. Not that it was a pleasure cruise. But for a few days she enjoyed a bit of excitement in her otherwise dreary existence. More than she could’ve ever had else ways.

“Very well. I suppose there is nothing left for me here.”

“No.”

She reached down into her bodice, not taking her eyes off him. He had raised his right eyebrow as she slightly bent over affording him a better view. Lianna grinned wickedly as she removed her empty hand.

“Oh, silly me,” she said. “I’d forgotten. I put it under the bed.” Her nasty habit of toying around was bound to get her roasted alive. In some sort of irresponsible way, she hoped to regain his approval. She turned and bent at the waist to remove The Serpent from under the mattress.

“You’re a knavish girl,” he said irritably. “One with a perfect backside.” He wrapped his fingers around the pendant she held up by the chain.

“Here now, Captain Fox. I yield to your instruction. I have been stripped of what has bound me to your word. I solemnly await your will.”

He glanced at the blue vase on the writing table. “Somehow, I doubt that very much.” He seemed to calculate its closeness, enough to be within her reach. “Besides, you blandish yourself on my behalf. I have no intention of forcing myself upon you. I see no pleasure in such a disgusting dalliance.”

Did it just get cold in here?
Lianna thought that maybe she was relieved. Maybe.
Wait. Disgusting dalliance? Did he just call me disgusting?

“If there is nothing more, let us go.” Zane turned his back to leave.

Yes, there was a definite chill in the air.

“Make haste, Miss Whitney.” He halted at the door, waiting for her to follow. “We’re burning candlelight.”

Outside, darkness had not given up its reign in the sky. A cool breeze blew in from the north. The moon poised herself readying to droop behind the craggy hillside of the island. The sky to the east paled into a cerulean backdrop. The blueness appeared to be chasing after the stars, swallowing them when they got too near to its intensity.

Crewmen rushed about busily, working feverishly over every square inch of the ship. Rigging was being set, cannons placed at gun ports, and shot carefully stacked.

There was so much noise. Orders were shouted from boatswains over the clanging of metal against metal, metal against wood. Men running here, men running there. Each with a specific duty. But amid all of what she thought chaos, there was order, precision. These men were skilled in a dangerous fashion. Something to be admired.

A deckhand crossed her path tossing sand to the deck floors. Another scaled down the ropes beside her. Still two more rolled a gun to the edge and a third stuck a wedge behind its wheel. Lianna couldn’t focus with so much commotion. She tried to keep up with the captain but, in the oddly concerted toiling, became disoriented. She bumped into a wooden box stacked high with eight-pound cannon balls. The pile dislodged and the balls violently crashed to the deck rolling in every which direction.

“Oh saint’s blood,” she cursed.

Zane turned just as a ball landed upon his foot. His eyes grew wide as he grabbed for a nearby rig line and tightened his grip on his pistol. Lianna thought she heard him whimper.

“Terribly sorry.” She shrugged.

Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. His knuckles were so white she thought the bones would tear through.

“Try counting to ten.” She put on her best, sweet, innocent smile.

Zane took a deep breath. “You there!” He pointed to the cannon’s gunner. “Pick this shot up before someone trips and breaks their neck.”

The seaman dutifully gathered the round iron shot. Lianna bent to help. She picked up one of the balls, but she was unprepared for the heavy weight and lost her hold. Zane jumped in time to the side, as if frightened by a big hairy spider, before the ball could hit its mark. He moved so quickly, Lianna had to squelch her laughter.

Gathering up her skirt, she said, “Well, then, let’s get on with this.” She minced past the captain toward the ship’s entryway. Zane limped behind her, saying things under his breath she was certain she didn’t want to hear.

The small boat to take her ashore bobbed tethered to the side of the brig. A scruffy man seated at the oars waited. His red leather skin marked an outlandish contrast to his wiry, patchy white hair. His arms were so thin, she worried they would snap off when he rowed them to the quay. She supposed ’twas a good thing she enjoyed good health. She just knew the weather-beaten old dog was going to seize up and give out in mid row and she would be left to paddle herself to the dock.

Blade, Jason and even Henri were waiting by the steps to see her off. She smiled. She had managed to make a few friends after all, and that, if anything, was golden.

“Good morning, Miss Whitney.” Blade bowed low. “I have the pleasure to see you to shore and deliver you to Captain Franklin for your trip home.”

“Once again, I am in able hands over my safety. I appreciate the kindness to which you all have bestowed upon me, an unworthy tavern girl.” She looked to each man. “Under my unusual circumstance, I can honestly say that you are bad examples of contemptible, heartless pirates.”

Lianna hugged Jason tight. He wrapped his arms around her so she had to fight off the gathering tears. “Be true to yourself and always willing to learn, for that is the path to becoming a great man.” He smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

Henri stiffened as she turned to look down at him. He didn’t want a hug. He had a gruff reputation to uphold. “I know that you don’t like me much, Henri, but I want to thank you for your tolerance. The next time you are in Nassau, I would be humbled if you paid me a visit. I should like to discuss coconut milk with you.”

Henri relaxed. “Aye, lass. I might be doin’ that.”

Lianna bent down and placed a peck on his forehead. Henri turned several shades of red. “Here now.” He waved her away like a pesky mosquito, glancing about to see if any of the scurvy crew witnessed her gratitude.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small book Zane had given her to read. “Thank you, Captain Fox.” She rubbed her hand across its soft, worn leather cover before handing it to him. “For your concern in my idle hours. I delighted in the sea faring tales of the book.” She paused and smiled. “I understand that my position on your ship called for no hospitality on your part. I greatly appreciate the lengths you went for me, even as I have been somewhat of a pain in the arse.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He inclined his head. “’Twas my pleasure.”

She turned to Blade. “Well, Mr. Tyburn. I’m ready to go. I don’t want to hold up Captain Fox any longer.”

“As you wish.” Blade climbed down the ladder into the skiff. He held the rowboat steady as she swung over the rail, Zane holding her hand until she was on the rungs.

Zane had known the little time Lianna spent on his ship caused a stir, but now he realized it wasn’t just in his trousers. There was a genuine affection for the lass by these three, Blade, Jason, and Henri. He, too, would be sorry to see her go. His throbbing foot reminded him, no,
screamed
at him, that she was a hazard. But it was hard to ignore her quaint charm.

He watched from the railing as Lianna scaled down the ladder one foot at a time. Blade wore an alligator grin as Lianna afforded him a champion view up her skirt. The old man holding onto the roars craned his neck to the point of nearly capsizing the boat. Zane couldn’t help but be a little envious of them both.

The sun had cleared the horizon, casting a golden glow across the browns and greens of the island terrain. Squat pink and apricot colored buildings along the harbor stirred with the life the morning brings. Small fishing boats made their way to secret spots of bountiful catches. Along with the
Rissa
, three other ships, all merchants, anchored in the bay, bumboats gathered at their hulls selling provisions of foods, candles, liquor, tools or whatever a sailing ship might need.

Zane enjoyed the breaking of dawn, the way the world seemed to wake in a wash of color, the gradual sound of birds chirping and squawking, the crashing waves which seem to become louder with the warmth the sun brings. It meant that he had survived to breathe another day.

Today he would be underway to complete the job he was hired to do. A few more glorious mornings like this and he would be in Port Royal trading The Serpent for a handsome reward. Enough for his entire crew to retire from the buccaneer’s life, should they wish.

He, himself, would probably continue to sail the sea. She was his mistress. He had no other family save Blade, Henri and the boy. No place to call home. He was bound to her.

He watched Blade hold Lianna by the waist as she stepped warily into the jollyboat. Now, if he had a woman like her to call his own, perhaps he would kiss the oggin goodbye. Nay. Women were little more than trouble with their demands and expectations. Having a sweetheart in every other port free of delusions for taking him as a husband served him well. To think of choosing just one over the sea was downright headless.

Henri clamored to attention. “Capt’n. We be havin’ that party ye were hopin’ for.”

Zane looked to the rugged, steep peninsula jutting out into the sparkling water. A British naval ship had come into view. The looming monster well within range was already in position for battle, the bloody flag raised.

“Bennington.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Seems the winds were at his back.”

“Aye. Now he has us cornered.”

“I anticipated as much.”

“I don’t like this,” Henri muttered.

“What? You’re not up for a challenge? Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”

Henri glanced around the bay.

“Those merchants will weigh anchor as soon as the first volley is fired,” Zane said. “We’ll be able to make an escape should we need to. But we won’t.”

Zane leaned over the railing and hollered down to Blade. “Change of plans, brother. Looks like we ran out of time. Get Miss Whitney back on board.”

Confusion stole across her face and she looked to Blade for answers. “Get me back on board? What is he talking about?”

“Your stay upon the
Rissa
just got extended.” Blade’s reply floated up to Zane’s ears and the significance prickled him.

“But I don’t want to get back on board.” Her brow furrowed with an annoyed frown.

“Unless you want to be blown to crumbs, you’ll take a chance back on the brig. We won’t make it to the docks.” Blade pulled her to him and pointed to the navy ship she was unable to see from her previous vantage.