Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure (23 page)

Lianna pushed her way through to the table. The better view lent her a ghastly sight. “Oh.” She put her hand to her mouth.

The hook embedded deep into Henri’s beefy calf. Streams of blood trickled down in crooked paths pooling on the wooden table. A set of gruesome surgeons’ knives were set out next his leg. The dulled instruments were different lengths with varying degrees of uses for gouging, splicing and amputating. Poor Henri was indeed in a sad state of affairs.

She picked up a damp rag, wetted it in the bowl of cool water on the table and dabbed at Henri’s forehead. The room went silent. All eyes were upon her. She must have been a sight with hair disheveled and skin flushed like a ripe strawberry. She didn’t care. She felt positively alive.

Blade winked at Zane, and Zane cocked an eyebrow. She tried not to smile at their silent repartee.

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

“A silly notion.” She dismissed the evident annoyance that worked in Zane’s lower jaw. “How are you doing, Henri?”

“A mere flesh wound, lassie.” He wore a brave new face. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

Blade snorted at the absurdity. “Glad to hear that, you old fool.” He shoved a piece of plank at Henri’s mouth. “Bite down on this.”

Worry lines creased his leathery face as he looked from Blade to Lianna. His little beard bows drooped and tangled in his messy, scraggly fuzz. She returned with a sympathetic smile, patting him on his arm. “You’ll be fine,” she said.

Lianna hoped she presented the welcome distraction Blade needed. He quickly twisted and yanked the hook from Henri’s leg in one swift movement. Her squeamish stomach lurched with the hideous rip of metal tearing through flesh.

Henri wailed between clenched teeth chomping deep into the wood. Zane held him by the shoulders lest the little man try to grab a surgeon knife to gut Blade in his own attempt at surgery.

“With any luck, your leg won’t become infected and I won’t have to amputate.” Blade shook the hook at the struggling gruff man. “And that’s too bad,” he said. “I could use the practice.”

Handing the hook to the pale-faced Jason, he itched at the scruffy hair growing in under his bottom lip. “Course, I could’ve sworn I heard someone whistling in the wind this evening.” He shook his head and grinned. “Bad omen, Henri. Bad omen.”

Lianna rubbed at his arm soothingly. “Don’t listen to him. He’s baiting you. Aren’t you Blade?”

Blade casually shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“I’m so proud of you, Henri.” She hoped Henri would regain composure. “You are so courageous.”

Despite her attempts, he coughed out the board and let loose a parade of obscenities.

“Watch your tongue.” Blade laughed and he uncorked a bottle of rum. “There’s a lady present.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, took a swig, and handed the rum to Henri.

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Henri took deep gulps from the bottle as if he’d been dying of thirst, dribbling alcohol down his jowls.

“’Tis bloody nothing,” she quipped.

Zane leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Lianna locked eyes with him as she took Henri’s hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

*****

Sadie stood in a dim corner of the galley, thoroughly disgusted by the display of bantering and mollycoddling. The whole room looked at Lianna like she was some revered princess. These men were supposed to be fierce cutthroats and cruel pirates. Instead, they acted like sappy nick ninnies with ridiculous grins. She had to get out of there, find some real men, fiendish men, before she relived her dinner.

Before slipping out the door, she saw the pride in Zane’s expression as he stared at the little trollop. It sickened her all the more.

“That woman,” she sneered, “has got to go.”

CHAPTER 12

Morning brought mists that hung low and thick, lending no visibility to sky or sea. A lull in the winds left the
Rissa
floating nigh at a standstill well before dawn. The eerie silence that had befallen the waters was excruciating. Even the ship’s crew whispered amongst themselves with growing superstitious unrest as to their apparent misfortune.

“This is a critical situation, Zane.” Blade leaned his hip against the port banister of the quarterdeck, sharpening his gully knife on a small whetstone.

“Aye. We don’t have wind soon, Bennington will be at our stern sooner than we’d like.” Zane stared into the gray fog. “We should have been docked by now.”

Blade shaved the hair on the back of his arm with his knife, checking its sharpness. “What will you do once we get to Port Royal?”

“Go directly to Abbott with The Serpent and collect our dues, of course.”

“I meant with Lianna.”

Stiffening, Zane kicked at the railing bottom with the tip of his worn boot. “Arrange her safe passage home.”

“Ah.” Blade returned to dragging the knife edge across the stone. “Is that what she wants?”

“Doesn’t matter what she wants. ’Tis what’s best.”

“For her? Or you?”

Zane turned to glare at his friend. “You know blasted well a lady like her has no place on a ship like this.” He spoke blunt and true.

Blade’s dimples appeared as he pointed his knife tip to the blue bruise under Zane’s eye. “Looks like she does a decent job caring for herself.”

Zane let out an irritable sigh. “You yourself know the constant dangers of the sea, to say nothing of if we were captured. Her neck would not be spared at the gallows just because she is of the fairer sex.”

“And yet it was okay for Sadie.”

“’Tis because of Sadie,” he snapped. “She proved it so.”

“Why is it there is no place for Lianna on shore? Is she not worthy enough to consider your retirement?”

How would I ever manage?
Most of Zane’s life had been spent sailing the oceans. He was not inclined to become a landsman, let alone, support another. The weight of his responsibility to her would be much too great. But then he knew he was lying to himself. He could see to an entire ship of men and carry a hefty obligation to them. They trusted him with their lives and livelihoods.
So why not for a wif—a woman?
With Lianna, he feared he would fall far short. That just wouldn’t do. ’Twould not be fair to either of them. He resented her for making him feel this way, this fear of keeping her, this fear of letting her go. He despised cowards.

“I am destined for the sea.” He slowly scanned the fog for some relief from the conversation.

“Oh, here we go.” Blade shook his head in disgust. “Only you have cursed yourself to this life. Only you. And in some twisted way, you’ve cursed her as well.”

“Bah. Here’s paltry invention. She has free will to do as she chooses.”

“Certainly. If your coupling last night meant nothing to her as it apparently does to you.”

Zane closed his eyes in frustration. His mate had a way of rooting out the truth, forcing Zane to analyze and question every moral dilemma. He thought of Lianna, that gem of a woman still asleep in his cabin, thought of her warmth, of her inviting lips and twinkling eyes, and of the feel of her beating heart against his hand. Alone or apart, that woman invaded his soul.

He took in a short, deep breath and faced Blade. “She’s come to mean more to me than anyone I’ve ever known. Still, that doesn’t change the fact she must find her own way. I will not allow her to stay in harm’s course because of silly matters of the heart.”

“You must find yourself valiant to just let Lianna go. ’Tis a pity to bring her into your soul for suffering, then push her away.” Blade clucked his tongue. “No compromising yourself, but, by all means, sacrifice her.”

“End of discussion.”

“Stubborn bastard.”

*****

“I’m tellin’ ye, we be cursed,” John grumbled to two ship mates.

Sadie watched the three crewmen gathered at the foremast cleaning their muskets. Their unease was obvious in their rigid spines and slow distracted efforts. She pushed her mop along, nearing the grubby men. She thought it facetious, the relegation to swabbing the
ship’s
deck. But she supposed she had asked for it. She’d get what she came for, eventually. For now, she should get a little closer to better hear what the buccaneers were saying.

The weathered seaman flipped over a bucket to sit down. “Mark me words.” John tapped a finger to his bent nose, lumpy from years of sunburn. “We’ve displeased ’er and now the sea ’as cursed us.” His wide eyes darted out at the sticky fog, searching for whatever grim spirit would be coming for them. Sadie, too, looked out at the heavy sullen mists, coming to eradicate the doomed.

“Aye.” Jaq, a barrel-chested man sitting on a crate agreed. Laying his firearm across his thighs, he removed the handkerchief from his neck. “I’ve heard stories ’bout a schooner found driftin’ from a fog bank.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “The whole bloody ship was empty, not a man on board. Not even a rat.”

The black seaman they called Sam crouched down between them. “We could be stranded out here for days, weeks.” He leaned on his musket for support. “We run outta food, t’en what?” He looked back and forth between the two, panic flashing in his wild eyes. “We be forced to eat each ot’er.”

The men winced. Sadie choked back a chuckle.

“Well.” Jaq looked thoughtfully. “I say Charlie be the first to go.”

“Why Charlie?” Sam asked.

“He got the most meat.”

“Hey, Jaq.” Shifting his weight on the bucket, John leaned in to the man on the crate. “Ye once said Henri carried with ’im a witch’s knot.”

“That I did.”

Sam, too, leaned in. “A witch’s knot?”

Sadie rolled her eyes. Superstitious fools.

Jaq lowered his voice to barely audible. “It be a string with three knots tied into it by a witch. Untie the first knot and winds will blow. Untie the second to conjure up a gale. The third be getting ye a hurricane.”

“Does ’e still be ’avin’ it?” John sat very still as he passed his gaze over the haze.

“Henri has had that knot many years. Says he fears usin’ the knot will release a plague far worse. He think it a trick, bindin’ hisself to the sorceress forever, in life and death. He won’t be riddin’ hisself of it neither. Say ’twas a gift he cannot throw away lest he bring down a wrath upon his head.”

“We be cursed.” John repeated his earlier declaration.

Sadie finally spoke. “’Tis that woman.”

The seamen looked up as Sadie pushed her mop towards them. The superstitious idiots ogling her would be a suitable way to stir the pot.

“’Tis bad luck to have a woman on board a ship.” Sadie sloshed the mop into her bucket of water. “Isn’t that what you sea dogs claim, John?”

“That it is.”

“What about you, Sadie?” Jaq flicked his chin at her. “You’re a woman. You bein’ here ain’t brought no curse.”

“Ah, because I am not just a woman, I’m a pirate.” She was confident they’d see her reasoning. “And I earn a reprieve as such.” She strutted into their huddle. Looking to each man, she gauged their faces, their ignorance. Aye, they would make a fine lot among which to plant her discontenting seed.

“But this woman,” she continued, “well, her presence has distracted the Captain, placing us all in danger. Why, he was to be on watch at Garra, but was off dallying with the wench. And what about last night? Where was he during the storm?

“That wench has angered the sea. She gave us that squall last night. And now this.” Sadie thrust her arm out toward the gray void. “Sam’s right. We could drift out here forever if she sees it fit. We need to gain favor. Something must be done about that wench.”

The men exchanged troubled glances. Sadie resisted the urge to smile.

John spoke first. “That’s the Capt’n’s lady. I’m not too quick stakin’ blame on ’er.”

“Aye. An a squall taint nuthin’.” Sam added his own opinion.

Jaq swiped his upper lip with his rag. “But Sadie be right. The Capt’n hadn’t been hisself since she came on board.”

“Don’t reckon any of us ’ave.” John smiled. “She’s a vision for any salty dog’s deadlights. Did you see ’er dancin’? The Capt’n would cut me weasand if ’e be knowin’ the ideas in me brain.” He dragged his finger across his throat.

Heads bobbed in agreement.

A stab of jealousy tightened in Sadie’s chest. She exhaled noisily from her nostrils. “’Tis as I’ve said. Captain Fox is bound by the codex to protect his ship and faithful crew. He is foolishly neglecting his duty because of a flaunting bosom. Isn’t that how men fall? By the flesh of a woman? I, for one, don’t want to have my life compromised for the fodder of another.”

“And what be you suggestin’, lass?” Jaq inquired.

“Only that you bear in mind the reason for our current state. When the time presents itself, you’ll know what to do.”

Sam stood to face her. She took notice of the dark muscles smooth and taut on his chest, of his massive powerful arms. They could crush her as easily as snapping a chicken’s neck. He hovered too close. Yet her egotism kept Sadie from taking a step back. Sam wouldn’t dare hurt her. He’d answer to Zane. Zane warned her to watch her back, but no man would want to face him should harm come to her by their hand.

“T’ere’ll be no mutiny.” He stared a burning hole through her.

“Of course. But if something unfortunate should happen to the dear lady…” Sadie grabbed the mop handle. “Well, that would be…unfortunate.”

She turned her back to the men, pushing her mop along. “Even if the winds return,” she said over her shoulder, “this ship cannot afford to roll the bones on a woman without utility to the mission.”

The seamen returned to cleaning their weapons, not another word spoken among them. At least not until she was out of earshot.

Motherless bastards.

The mists shifted. Bull suddenly appeared, jumping down from the deck above and blocking her way to the hatch door. He rose to full height. Malevolence rolled off him, consuming the surrounding haze. His large arms hung at his sides like brawny shanks. Thick fingers that couldn’t quite make a fist protruded from his hands like meaty claws. Sadie reveled in his cold-gutted glare, let it flow over her as if it were the angry surf. They were two of a kind, she and Bull. Take what they want, from who they want, and leave nothing behind.

“What say you, handsome?”

“You stirrrin’ up trouble.”

“That’s my affair.” She shoved him to move out of her way, but he threw up his arm across the threshold.

“What’s your ailment with the hussy?” he said.

Perchance this arch-devil would be an accomplice in her scheme. Bull was a man unto himself. His very appearance did not invite company. Even hardened men kept their distance. But his interest in what Sadie was up to encouraged her to strike a bond. “You may well ask. Like you, she’s crossed me. I don’t like to be crossed, do you, Bull? She tries to make fools of us.”

A low gnarl rumbled from his chest. “I want a piece o’ her.”

“You had your chance last night.”

“Tyburn showed.”

“Pity, too.” She sighed heavily and leaned the mop against the wall. “No matter. With your help, I’ll get rid of her.”