The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) (6 page)

“My apologies, Captain, I
meant no disrespect. We’ll be on our way.” Cass released Miranda’s arm, and
she, too, backed away, sweeping the stray curl away from her face.

“No hard feelings, ladies. I
can understand your concern, but I’ve heard tell that Captain Shepard is quite
capable of handling herself.
 
It’s very
unlikely that she’s fallen into anyone’s hands that she cannot remove with
ease,” Carbonale said and gently placed Lasher on his chair as he rose to his
feet.

“Oh…one last thing, Captain,
before we go,” Cass asked, turning back to him.

“Of course, Madame.”

“May we have your permission
to explore the camp a bit before we search in town?”

“With my blessing,” he
answered with a bow and walked them to the steps.

“That bastard’s lying
through his teeth,” Cass whispered to Miranda, once they believed themselves
out of his range.

“Do you really think so?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”

“I think it’s a bloody
shame, though.”

“I know. I had really hoped
he’d be willing to negotiate. He’s definitely up to something, and we will find
out what it is…you mark my words.”

Miranda looked over at Cass
with a raised eyebrow as if confused by her cousin’s answer.
 
“What’s that look all about?”
 
Cass asked.

 
“I wasn’t talking about Ivory.” She giggled.
“I was talking about him. That son of a bitch was the most beautiful man I’ve
ever laid my eyes on,” she said with a heavy sigh and a dreamy expression.

“Seriously, Miranda, you can
think of nothing but sex at this moment?” Cass stated and turned away.

“Tell me you didn’t see that
chest—almost as big as mine, I might add.
 
And those hands!
 
There’s a whole
lot of good a man can do with hands like those, and don’t you deny it.” Miranda
shook a playful finger at her cousin and then locked onto her arm. “However,
you’re right. It’s just my nature, Cass.
 
Besides, there was another there with enormous hands, as I’m sure you
know…”

“As if I wouldn’t notice,
you damn hussy but that, is history.” Cass laughed, and they both turned and
waved at the pirate god twenty steps above them. “Bullocks, you snit, you’re
right about him, though,” Cass mumbled to herself when Carbonale smiled and two
wide dimples dipped into his cheeks to match the one in his chin.

Willy sat on the bottom step
with Sandy and turned, looking up at Carbonale with squinted eyes and a scowl.
They both stood and waited for the ladies to descend, as Carbonale turned his
rings and looked down on them.

Chapter
Seven

Ivory’s nap was interrupted
when a light knock came at her door. Then, she heard the familiar click of a
key in the lock that came before the soft squeak that signified the door was
now open. As she lay turned away from this visitor, the unmistakable footsteps
and light patter of four paws that accompanied them instantly solved the
mystery of who had entered.

“I hope I’m not disturbing
you,” the Captain whispered, as Lasher landed on the bed with a gentle pounce
and darted for her face with a head butt. “Lasher, no…”

“I’m awake,” Ivory said,
stroking the cat from nose to tail and then scratching the smooth tufts of fur
behind his ears.

“I must admit, I’m shocked.”

“Why? Is it because, for a
change, I’m not naked when you barge in?”

“Your state of dress—or
rather undress— when I enter is your responsibility, Mad…Ivory, but I am
speaking of Lasher. He is often curious of others, but never affectionate with
them.”

“It seems your cat is a
better judge of character than you.”

“I wouldn’t go to that
extreme. However peculiar his behavior, I wouldn’t assume it has anything to do
with his judgment, or mine.”

“Okay, Maddox, why are you
here?” Ivory said as she rolled to her back and stared up at the ceiling.

“I had visitors this
afternoon; two women, claiming to be your cousins.”

“What? Who? Which ones?”
Ivory exclaimed and snapped up from her back onto her knees on the bed, sending
Lasher leaping from the bed in fear.

“I believe there was a
Catalina…”

“Cassandra!”

“And a Miranda. Apparently
there was a witness to your rescue. They were under the impression you were
here—with me,” Carbonale remarked, taking a seat in the chair.

“You lied to them, of
course,” Ivory said with a sigh and sat back on the bed.

“You sound as if you
wouldn’t lie for fifty thousand pounds. You’d be lying if you said you
wouldn’t,” he stated, leaning forward.

“Fifty thousand pounds,
Maddox? Is that all a life is worth to you?”

“That all depends on the
life.”

“Who made you God? Who gave
you the right to decide who is worth what?”

“My goodness, Ivory, how
melodramatic can one woman possibly be, I ask you?”

“You call it anything you
like. You’re no more than a rogue bounty hunter. You’re not a pirate. You’re
still working for the British!
 
Only now
you’re trading in flesh instead of Spanish gold.” All the while Ivory spoke,
she’d slid closer and closer to the edge of the bed and had perched herself on
all fours, glaring at him.

“Are you trying to make me
angry, Ivory? Because if so, it’s working,” Carbonale said through his teeth,
leaning so far forward he was barely sitting and held himself up by the arms of
the chair, inches from her face.

“I say what I mean, and I
definitely mean what I say, and I’m telling you there is no way you’re taking
me to Nassau.”

“You’ll get on that ship
tomorrow morning if I have to have you carried on in a barrel,” he shot back,
but this time he was cool and sat back in his chair as if nothing had happened.

Ivory was still crouched on
her hands and knees. Her eyes fixed on his for a moment until he looked down at
Lasher brushing against his legs. Her eyes followed his, and then crossed him
and rolled back. She felt light headed and weak, and without warning her arms
buckled beneath her. She tipped forward towards the edge of the bed and felt
herself falling.
 
The next thing she
knew, Carbonale had swept her up in his arms.

Her head fell back, and her
arm flopped to the side. The room was spinning around her, and she felt woozy
and ill until everything went black. She awoke a few moments later to find him
sitting on the bed next to her, wiping her brow with a damp cloth and holding
her hand.

“Protecting your
investment?” she asked softly, barely able to open her eyes.

“Oh, for goodness sakes,
woman!
 
Do you ever shut up?”

“The truth is Maddox, I
rarely speak unless I have to. When you live with three other women who are
lively, brilliant, beautiful, and full of life, you have to find what your
strengths are.”

“And what is it that you’ve
found?”

“Making sure they can remain
all of those things—for as long as I can.”

“Protection, strength, and
the preservation of all of those things—is that what you’re saying?”

“Don’t you see, Maddox? Your
precious fifty thousand pounds isn’t only for my neck.
 
You’re holding the noose for four lives in
your hands.”

Ivory closed her eyes, and
Carbonale pulled the cloth away from her face. He sat there, leaning over her,
and saw her completely for the first time. He was awed at her beauty in all its
plainness, but more so at the glimpse into her he’d just seen that left him
longing to see more. Her scars, blisters, and bruises faded before his eyes,
and the true nature of her spirit lay before him. He was caught unawares when
he found his hand brushing wisps of her sun-bleached hair away from her
forehead.
 
He found the lock of hair
which he had whipped short, and he caressed it between his fingers.

 
“Maddox, you damned fool, let it go. She’s
just another pirate. She’d sell you out for fifty thousand pounds as easily as
you’ve done her,” he whispered to himself.

He stood slowly and
straightened the robe to cover her. After a moment of reflection as he gazed
down at her, he exhaled and pulled the sheet up as well. He rubbed his brow and
took a deep breath, then backed up into the chair and sat on Lasher, who let
out a horrible squeal and dashed under the bed.

“Dammit, Lasher,” he said in
a whispered shout, and a moment later, he heard a light knock at the door.

“Come in, Zara. It appears
Ivory has had a relapse of some sort. Can you tend to her, please?” Maddox
rambled, biting his fingernails as he continuously looked back and forth
between Zara and Ivory.
 
Then, he turned
and bolted from the room.

Zara turned her eyes toward
the door and smiled. She carried with her three dresses, shoes, and a variety
of accessories from which Ivory could choose to wear for the voyage to Nassau.
She walked to the closet and hung the dresses, when she heard Ivory stir. “Are
you ill, Madame?”

“I think I fainted. I was a
bit riled and argued with the Captain. I’m sure a good meal and a drink, and
I’ll be fine.”

“Are you up to a bath? The
Captain has ordered a tub to be brought in for you.”

“A bath sounds lovely, Zara.
If I may be going to my death, I might as well go clean.”

Zara sighed and looked away.
“Please let me know which dress to pack.”

Ivory looked over at them
and turned to her side, away from Zara.
 
“I can’t decide. Just pack them all.”

Zara assisted Ivory with her
bath and her hair.
 
By the time she left
to finish dinner, Ivory looked like a fine English lady. Her hair was done up
in tight curls, and she’d chosen the powder blue silk brocade dress at Zara’s
insistence that it complimented her eyes. Ivory hadn’t worn a real dress since
she’d worked as a maid in Charles Towne. She preferred a sailor’s slops as it
fit in better with her daily tasks. Running a ship and trading with the
dangerous sort was no place for a lady—or her fine clothes. Breeches, linen
shirts, and a doublet or vest were more her style, although she was impressed
at her reflection, despite the peeling skin that was now changing from bright
red to tender pink and golden brown.

 
“This bodice is much too tight!” she shouted
at the mirror upon seeing her breasts at a height they hadn’t been in
years.
 
She felt as if she were to eat
more than a few mouthfuls she’d cease to breathe. The all-too-familiar knock
came at the door and Roman was there to escort her to supper—still armed and
still with his hand over his pistol.

“Madame?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“I apologize for my weapons.
The Captain…”

“It’s alright, Roman. Truly,
I understand.”

They continued down the hall
and into the empty dining room. Roman pulled out Ivory’s chair to seat her and
then bowed to go. “Roman, wait please?”

“Yes, Madame?”

“Could you please ask Zara
to come here? I need her help with something.”

“Of course, Madame.
 
And may I say something?”

“By all means, Roman, and
please, if you won’t call me Ivory, will you at least call me Captain Shepard?”

“You should wear a dress
more often. You look simply beautiful this evening…Captain Shepard.” Roman
bowed again and hurried off to find Zara.

Within moments, Zara was
rushing to the table. “Yes, Madame? Is something wrong?”

“Can you please loosen this
bodice? I can hardly breathe, let alone eat.”

“Oh, yes, Madame. I am sorry
for tying you in so tightly. I haven’t had to lace one of these for quite some
time, and I’m afraid I was too concerned with getting it right and not enough
with your breathing.”

“It’s fine.
 
Now just loosen me up a bit. I’m starving,”
Ivory said with a laugh.

“What’s all this?” said
Carbonale, entering the room. He was wearing what appeared to be the most
ornate and dashing ensemble he owned. Blood-red velvet and lace was his suit of
choice, and although he’d not worn his surcoat, the detailed brocade on the
front of his doublet was quite impressive.

“The dress is lovely, but
some of us prefer to actually swallow our food if you don’t mind,” Ivory said
as she leaned over the table while Zara loosened her laces. “Ah, Zara, you’re a
darling. Thank you so much. Now, bring on the food.”

Ivory took her seat again,
and this time Carbonale pulled her chair and seated her. He lingered behind her
a moment having smelled something magnificent, and he breathed it in several
times before he took his seat. The wide skirt made it difficult for Ivory to
sit comfortably in the armed chair, but after a bit of wiggling, she was tucked
in well enough.

“As you can see, all of the
knives have been removed from the table. Do you enjoy oysters?”

“I could eat them until I
throw them up,” Ivory replied, straightening her skirt. “This gown is lovely.
I’m not sure why you’re wasting it on me, though. And please, try not to feel
badly for taking it back after Jack Ketch gets a hold of me.”

Carbonale swallowed hard and
shook out his napkin to place it in his lap. He regained his stern composure
long enough to say, “I have dozens of them.”

“Dresses or oysters?” Ivory
asked spitefully.

As difficult as it was for
him not to stare at her through the candlelight, he managed to focus on his
meal and only glance in her direction when he was sure she was focused
elsewhere. Throughout dinner, Ivory remained quiet and ate as much as two men,
and then finished off nearly an entire pitcher of water before asking, “Maddox,
why no rum, or even some lousy wine for that matter?”

After blotting his lips and
mustache, he forced himself to make eye contact with her at last. He slapped
the napkin down hard on the table and answered in exasperation, “I merely felt
in your delicate condition that rum was not the best choice for your recovery.
Why must you question everything I do?”

“But I’m much better now,
and with all of this fine food in my belly, I’m sure a glass of rum wouldn’t
kill me,” she said, leaning back and patting her stomach, but forcing her
already strained bosom up until most of it spilled over the top of her dress.

Carbonale’s hand flew to his
brow to block his view and quickly redirected his eyes to the bottle of rum
sitting on the bar across the room. As he grew more anxious by the minute, he
used the nervous energy and leapt to his feet to fulfill her request.