The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) (2 page)

“You really would see me
dead,” Zara whispered back, looking down at Ivory in contempt.

Ivory released her grasp,
and her head fell back. Zara collected the damp sheets and her jar of magic and
scurried out of the room. Ivory stared up at the ceiling, then raised her head
slightly and glanced about at her surroundings. There were no windows, and the
room was sparse; bare except for a dresser with a mirror, the ornate winged
back chair in which the so-called Captain had perched himself, and a side table
where the pitcher and goblet sat. A two foot by two foot barred skylight was
her only means of fresh air and a bit of sunlight.

Oh,
Ivory, what have you done
…

Chapter
Two

Several hours had passed
when she awoke to the pangs of hunger. Realizing the balm had long since either
dried or absorbed into her skin, she reached over and pulled the sheet across
her body. She felt enough strength to roll to her side. Opposite her was the
dresser and mirror, and she looked at her reflection with disgust at having
found herself in such a predicament. She closed her eyes and precariously
turned back the other way, caring not to irritate her already painful flesh.

“What the hell?” she cried
out upon meeting the emerald green eyes of Lasher, sitting as the Sphinx next
to her head. “Dammit, how did you get in here?”

Ivory sat up, pulling back
and away from the mound of sleek, black fur. The adrenaline shot that Lasher
provided gave her an unexpected burst of energy. She clutched the sheet to her
chest and realized that, at some point while she’d been sleeping, someone had
entered the room and allowed Lasher to creep in as well.

“Full of tricks you are,
aye, kitty?” she said, squirming herself into a sitting position and reaching
for the pitcher to pour a drink. Her thirsty hopes were dashed when the pitcher
slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor, breaking with a horrible
noise. The bedroom door shot open with Roman attached to it, and Lasher
retreated under the bed.

“Are you alright, Madame?”
he asked, and then he noticed the broken pitcher. “I’ll call for someone to clean
this up and bring you another.”

“Why are you all so fucking
accommodating? Can’t you see I’m being held against my will?”

Roman didn’t answer. He
turned and walked out, with Lasher dashing to the door.

“There you are, my boy,”
said the Captain. He scooped up Lasher as he entered the room and petted him
gently. “Feeling better, I hope?”

“So you’re a captain, aye?”

“So I am. But you didn’t
answer my question,” he said taking a seat in the chair.

“Well, so am I. Where is my
respect?”

“Correction- you
were
a captain. You no longer have a
ship, and therefore…”

“If you know who I am, then
you obviously know the
Blue Diamond
was not my only vessel,” she stated. “And how do you know I no longer have a
ship?”

“Let’s start over, shall
we?”

Ivory sat in silence and
watched as Zara swept into the room, cleaned up the broken pitcher, and then
reappeared a moment later with another.

“That girl… is she a slave?”

“I beg your pardon, Madame,
but I have no slaves. I do not trade in such things, which is the primary
reason I am no longer a privateer. She is a paid servant, and a loyal one as
well, but alas…you’ve already discovered that.”

“Loyalty by way of fear of
torture and death is not loyalty.”

“I’ll have it anyway I can
get it in this, shall we say, business. Besides, without a code and
consequences, there can be no order, correct? I’d never harm either of them,
but they know only what they’ve witnessed.” He smiled, still stroking the cat.

“So, start over then. I’m
waiting.”

The captain stood and placed
Lasher down in the chair. He crossed the room slowly and leaned back, resting
his hands behind him on the empty dresser. “Captain Maddox Carbonale—gentleman
of fortune,” he bowed and said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance
Madame…Razor.”

“Blacksnake!” she hissed.

“Aye, but that’s just a
label. You’re familiar with labels, I’m sure,” he remarked with a frown. “I am
as most define me; a refined, educated and above all, fair and reasonable man,
but…”

“But you’re also a ruthless,
selfish pirate of the worst sort. I must admit though, of all of the hands I
could have fallen into while in this condition, I could have surely done much
worse.” Ivory covered herself completely as she squirmed and looked away.

“It’s extremely enlightened
of you to acknowledge my courteousness under the circumstances. However,
knowing who I am, you can’t possibly believe I’ve taken you under my roof out
of the kindness of my heart.”

“Oh, so there is a heart
beneath all of that velvet and lace?”

“Very amusing, Madame.
 
Yes, it pumps my blood, but it certainly
doesn’t motivate my objectives. I try to never do anything out of kindness or
through the whims of the heart.” He strolled about the room and continued,
“This…this forsaken world in which we choose to exist won’t allow kindness. Of
course, back in England, or even in America, you may find unselfish acts,
delicacies, and even the occasional unexpected favor. However, we’ve both been
at sea and sand long enough to know such gentleness could never survive…here.”

Carbonale had strolled his
way to her bedside and leaned slightly over her, jabbing his deep green eyes
into her now fully expanded irises. Her empty stomach rumbled, awkwardly
breaking the few moments of silence during which they’d stared at each other.
He straightened his back, clasping his hands behind him.

“Are you quite finished?”
she asked, pulling her eyes away and to the right.

“You’ll be provided with a
meal shortly. Now why don’t you try again with that drink of water and we’ll
chat later?” he suggested, retrieving Lasher from the chair and walking to the
door.

“Bastard…” Ivory mumbled,
turning away.

“I assure you I am
completely legitimate. Although, perhaps my mother and father, God rest their
souls, may have claimed I was switched at birth, had I not been the only child
born under my roof that day. Oh, and by the way,” he added with a wink and a
slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, “you’re quite lovely when you sleep,
regardless of the scars, blisters, and snoring.”

“You’re disgusting,” she
growled.

“Disgusting? You read me completely
wrong. I find it a necessity to know my guests completely, Madame. I can assure
you, although I do find you attractive physically, I have no desire to bed you.
I prefer my ladies to be, well, ladies. Physically you are a bit thin, but a
fine female specimen nonetheless. However, I’d fear you’re hiding your…how
shall I say… your manhood somewhere, and that, my dear, is something in which I
have absolutely no interest.”

“If I’m as worthless as you
describe, then what do you want with me?” she asked through her teeth.

“I do not believe I used the
term ‘worthless.’ You are absolutely not worthless. Until later, Madame.” He
chuckled, refilling her goblet, and pulling Lasher close.
 
He bowed to her and closed the door.

* * * *

Ivory’s memory was returning,
and with it the images of her beloved Blue Diamond being raked to bits by two
sloops with at least ten cannons each. It had taken two ships to take down the
Blue Diamond
…but why? These were
obviously pirate manned, and she had neither crossed nor interfered with any of
her fellows in months. She wondered if there was a grudge against her, but
pushed that idea from her mind, knowing with confidence that neither she nor
any of her fellow associates of the trade had any unsettled disagreements.

She had just pulled out that
morning from port, and had yet to even set her course, when she and her crew
found themselves being pursued by the two sloops. Within four hours, they were
on her. She was loaded down with food and weaponry as she expected their
journey to be at least a month before reaching their charted target in the
gulf. Too heavy to outrun them, she had to stand and fight. The more she
recalled this one-sided clash, the faster the water went down. “Black flags,
ears of a cat,” she whispered. Her last memory before succumbing to dehydration
and exhaustion aboard the longboat was that of waiting as she hung from the
side of it, out of sight of her attackers. Her only luck had been the bottle of
rum one of her crew had stashed in the boat.

The oddity of it all was
that they had no desire to capture the
Blue
Diamond
, which made absolutely no sense. There was no call to surrender.
The ship was a pearl among stones in the Caribbean. She was a British merchant
ship Ivory had taken off the coast of Florida. With her two shares of the
cargo, Ivory had her brought ashore near Port Royal nearly three months before
and careened. Additionally, she had the quarter deck lowered and all but the
captain’s the deck cabins removed, and had additional gun ports cut.
 
However, even those were no defense against
the two sloops.

When she went into the water
as the sun sat mere inches from the horizon, she could hear her crew shouting
and calling out for one another as they drifted off on planks of wood and
barrels, clinging to life. One by one, they were plucked from the water and
captured as she watched, helplessly hanging on for her own life and drifting
away. With no way to save them, she saved herself in hopes of avenging this
unprovoked act of what she could only deem to be envy.
 

She rowed southeast, back to
Port Royal, for hours, but by the evening of the next day land was still
nowhere in sight. She was thankful, however, that neither were the sloops. She
assumed they thought she’d perished. She believed her crew was taken aboard to
endure a brutal interrogation, ending in a bloody death after such a vicious
and unprovoked bashing. All of these memories, and imagining the agony and
suffering of her crew, combined with the loss of her ship, was making her head
heavy, and her promised dinner had yet to arrive. Thankfully, as she again lay
back, Zara entered the room with a tray.

“You must be starving,
Madame,” she said as she set the tray down on the dresser and then propped
Ivory up on her pillows.

“My head is aching. Have you
any rum?”

“You need water, Madame, not
rum. Your head pounds because you need to eat.”

“You’re not from around
here, are you Zara?”

“My father was French and my
mother was his half-white Jamaican maid. I am originally from the island,
Madame. However, I spent several years as a child in France, when my father
took us with him to work in his home there, for his family.”

“His family?” Ivory asked as
Zara placed the tray on her lap.

“Yes, Madame. He was not
cruel, nor did he disrespect my mother and me. Our life was different, but
certainly not worse than it was here.”

“I suppose that depends on
your definition of cruel. You were educated there, I suppose? You certainly
have neither the accent nor mannerisms of native Jamaicans.”

“Yes, I went to school. Sadly,
my father died when I was ten. His wife, of course, having known all along whom
we were, put us on the first ship back to Kingston.”

 
“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“Fifteen this past March,
Madame. Now, you eat and drink all of the water in the pitcher. I’ll return in
a little while to collect everything.”

Zara bowed and turned to
leave when Ivory spoke again, “Zara, wait…what happened to your mother?”

“She died, too,” was all
Zara said as she closed the door.

Chapter
Three

“Good morning, Madame,” Zara
said quietly upon entering the room.

“Morning?”

“Yes, Madame. I came back to
collect your tray last night, and you were asleep. The Captain instructed me
not to wake you.”

Ivory sat up with some
difficulty and pulled the sheet up over her half-exposed body and rubbed at her
eyes. “Will you tell the Captain I wish to speak with him as soon as possible?”

“He’s waiting for you in the
dining room. I’ve brought you a robe and shoes. If you’d like a moment to wash,
I’ve also brought you a basin and soap. I can wait outside if you’d prefer.”

Ivory tossed off the sheet
and waved Zara away, but the girl walked to the bed and took her hand to
support her as she tried to stand. Ivory slid her stiffened lower limbs across
the bed, and they fell over the side as Zara pulled her up to sit.

“Perhaps I should stay until
the blood remembers where your feet are.”

After several attempts,
Ivory stood, leaning on Zara to balance herself.
 
She managed to take a few carefully placed
steps until they finally reached the dresser. Zara lifted the robe and guided
Ivory into it, buttoning and tying it closed.

“Let me help you, Madame,”
Zara said, pouring the water from the pitcher into the basin and dipping the
washcloth into the water.

“Do you have a comb?” Ivory
asked, leaning on the dresser with one hand and patting at her face with the
other. The cloth slid over her skin as the second application of Zara’s miracle
potion was picked up and wiped away. “You coated me again as I slept, didn’t
you?”

“I did. You slept like the
dead, but you are looking much better already.”

Zara pulled the chair to the
dresser and nodded at Ivory to sit so she could comb her hair. She pulled the
pins that still held some of Ivory’s hair up and, section by section, she
combed through it until it lay in long, flaxen waves down her back. Without
words, Zara opened the jar and dabbed the balm on Ivory’s cheeks, chin, and
forehead and motioned for her to massage it over her face.
 
Then, she did the same with Ivory’s neck,
chest, and forearms. Zara picked up the comb and pulled the cotton waves across
Ivory’s head into a long braid down her right side. Finally, she tied it with a
red ribbon at the end.
 

“I must have drunk enough
water. I need to…go.”

Zara walked to the other
side of the bed and pulled a porcelain chamber pot from beneath it, showed it
to Ivory, and sat it back down. “I’m sure you are able to do this yourself,
Madame.” She smiled. “I’ll wait for you outside the door and take you to
breakfast.”

Once relieved, Ivory slipped
on the shoes and walked to the door.

* * * *

“There you are, Madame. I’ve
been waiting for you,” Carbonale said as he stood and seated Ivory to his left.

“Only you and I this
morning?”

“This is my home. I live
here alone when I’m not doing business,” he replied, waving his arm left to
right.

“Where is your crew?”

Carbonale laughed and poured
Ivory a glass of sweet flavored orange liquid. “They are where they are. They
are my crew, not my children. When I am ready to sail, then they are where they
need to be.”

“What is this?” she asked,
holding up the glass.

“One of Zara’s amazing
concoctions. It is nectar pressed from several of the fruits of the island. I’m
sure you’ll find it quite delicious, Madame.”

“Ivory—call me Ivory. Madame
does not suit me, and I’ve heard it quite enough.”

“Apologies…Ivory. You spoke
of respect, so naturally I believed…”

“Listen to me, Carbonale… or
Blacksnake… or whatever you prefer. It isn’t that I do not appreciate your
unusual form of hospitality, but I have a business of my own to run. I’m
grateful that you’ve spared my life; honor among thieves and all that. However,
I’d appreciate my clothes and a horse. I’ll pay you for your trouble. You can
trust me,” Ivory said, the blood having now not only found her feet but her
head and tongue as well.

“Have I mentioned how
absolutely lovely you look this morning, Ivory?” He smiled with spite.

“Have I mentioned that I
don’t give a damn what you think of me?”

“What a pity. Now, see?
You’ve gone and ruined a perfectly civilized breakfast, and just when we were
starting to get to know each other.”

Before Carbonale could
finish spreading jam on his bread, Ivory snatched the knife from his hand and
pointed it at his throat. He leaned far back in his chair, smiling as she
thrust her hand into his black satin sash, digging for her blade. His hands
were spread out in the air at the sides of his head, but his eyes were fixed on
hers as she explored beneath the wrap until she’d reached his more private
area. He spread his thighs apart to allow her further access—the smile never
leaving his face.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

“Why should I tell you? It’s
far more entertaining for you to search for it.”

 
Ivory stopped and glared at him, having found
no humor in his words.

“You don’t think I’m foolish
enough to carry it with me, do you?” he laughed, which only angered her more,
causing her to press the dull instrument into the flesh of his gullet until the
skin folded around it. “So much for respect, I see,” he garbled.

“Respect is earned,
Blacksnake. Holding me prisoner under the guise that I’m a guest, and
withholding my weapon, is a poor demonstration of hospitality.”

Carbonale rolled his eyes
away from hers quickly, as if he’d heard someone approaching. She, too, glanced
away in that split second. He grabbed her wrist in his left hand and pulled the
knife free with his right, tossing it across the table. Then, he snatched her
by both wrists as she fought against him and pulled her down between his spread
thighs, wrapping her up and holding her there as Roman and the giant who’d
pulled her from the longboat entered the room.

“Is everything alright,
Captain?” Roman asked. “Master Green is here to see you.”

“As you can see, I’m having
breakfast with the lady,” he said and then whispered to Ivory, “Green can snap
you in half. All I have to do is say the word. Now be a good captain and take
your seat. I’ll try to forget that you just tried to end me.”

Ivory relaxed in his grasp
and pulled her now disheveled robe closed with her hands as she stood and
returned to her seat. Again, she heard that familiar voice, and when she met
the man’s eyes, the knowing was there and a hard scowl covered her face.
However, besides the acknowledgement in his eyes, Green didn’t flinch.

“Yes, Master Green. What may
I do for you, sir?”

“We have gained some
intelligence that may interest you. I’ll be at the Shark Skin in an hour. Come
and have a drink, and we can discuss this opportunity.”

“Thank you, Master Green.
I’ll see you then.”

Roman bowed and led
Quartermaster Green from the room as Ivory sat quietly fuming in her chair,
covered in perspiration with her neatly braided hair now unraveled and falling
loose at her shoulder. She reached for the glass of fruit juices, and Carbonale
again clamped onto her wrist, pulling her arm flat against the table.

“Where did you find that
one?” she asked as her body struggled against him.

“That’s none of your
concern, and please, Ivory, don’t try that again. I believed you more refined
than that. Despite your reputation, I had given you the credit I thought a
woman of your distinction deserved. I’ve now read you wrong. I don’t like being
wrong.”

“I’ll try not to cry for
your misguided judgment, Blacksnake,” she growled, looking up at him. “Now,
release me so that I may finish my breakfast.” She jerked her arm away and
straightened herself in her chair.

“Please, call me Captain
Carbonale, or even Maddox. Only my enemies call me Blacksnake, and although you
did only moments ago make an attempt on my life, I have no desire to make you
my enemy—or kill you.”

“Oh, reawy?” she asked with
a mouthful of dry bread.

“Here, allow me,” he said
taking the bread from her hand, retrieving the knife and covering it with a
slather of jam.

Ivory picked up her glass,
swallowing its contents in one long drink, and then snatched the now sweetened
bread from his hand. “Well? Are you going to explain that statement…Maddox?”

He placed the knife down
slowly to his right as he leaned in towards her and said, “You’re of absolutely
no value to me dead.”

“My value is out there,” she
stated, pointing her spoon towards the open doors that led out to his veranda
overlooking the beach, and then leaned back and stretched, taking a long, deep
breath. “Can you smell that, Captain? That’s the sea, and that’s where I
belong. Not sitting here in a satin robe making civil conversation with you—no
offense, of course,” she remarked, rolling her eyes.

“Aye, but you are mistaken,
love,” he said, sitting back in his chair and raising his fine china cup to his
lips for a sip of English tea.

“Oh, I’m afraid not. I’ve
quite a lot to tend to—although those who have noticed my obvious absence may
think me gone to Davey Jones’s Locker. They’ve most likely heard what happened
to the
Blue Diamond
, but like you I
have men…and women… depending on me. You really must understand, Maddox.” She’d
taken on a tone of nonchalant, yet matter-of-fact reasoning, and she believed
by appealing to Carbonale’s sense of duty and his own need to make a living
that he’d see she made perfect sense and let her go. “All I need are clothes, a
horse, and my weapon, and I’ll be out of your hair before you return from your
meeting.” She closed her argument with a wide smile and her cheeks full of
fried eggs and then went back to work on her breakfast.

“You really don’t know… do
you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his now closed thighs.

“Know what?” she asked,
never looking up from her plate.

“You’ve a hefty bounty on
your head. That ship you took possession of, the one you prized and modified
and paraded across the Caribbean for months? The British merchant company you
stole it from has put a bounty of fifty thousand pounds on your pretty little
cotton top, and I intend to collect that bounty.”

Ivory coughed and choked
until she spewed a combination of eggs and tea across the table and rose to her
feet, hunched over and gagging. Carbonale leapt from his chair and began
patting her hard on her back. Zara dashed into the room, handed her a glass of
water, and together they lowered her back into her chair.

“You…you bastard!”

“I told you, I am completely
legitimate.
 
Now, with said fifty
thousand pounds, I can promote Master Green for a vote to Captain of my ship,
Le Chat Noir
, and retire a wealthy and
free man.”

Ivory’s only response was a
cough-ridden bitter and contemptuous laugh.

“Oh, yes! I can assure you,
I’ve already made arrangements to turn you over next week in Nassau. They have
no desire to take you back to England for a trial. They’ll try you there, and
please don’t worry; they rarely desire the hanging of women. However, they have
been known to make an exception now and then,” he said, rising from his chair,
blotting his mouth with his napkin, and turning his back to her as he walked
away.

Zara stood at Ivory’s back
with her hand on her shoulder as she still struggled to catch her breath. “You
won’t get away with this, Blacksnake.” Ivory had no sooner set the words free
when she heard the loud crack of a whip and, simultaneously, a lock of her
white hair fell into her lap.

“Do you know how I got the
name Blacksnake?”

Ivory shook her head.
 
Her hands clenched on the arms of her chair
until her burned red knuckles grew white. He walked slowly towards her, looking
down and winding his lash loop over loop in his hands. Zara squeezed her
shoulder tighter in warning with every step he took in their direction. “Well,
you do now,” he said though his teeth. “Roman!”