He reeled and fought to headbutt the nearest face or shoulder, but his own head was a kaleidoscope of whirling pain and shooting stars from the damage he’d sustained with the head smash with scar-face. His vision was reduced to a slit through a swollen eye and the blood running into both eyes. But even he eventually noticed that the hands on him were only restraining him and that he hadn’t been harmed since they grabbed him.
“Oy! Mkubwa, avast, ye daft bastard! Ye practically killed White’s men and we don’t have enough money to buy them too. Steady on!”
Rowan twisted around to see Ansel’s face near his, the big man’s arms wrapped about Rowan’s shoulders.
“What?”
“We’re buying yer paper, man. But hold off, d’ye hear?”
Rowan stopped struggling and the hands let him go, except for Ansel, who kept a strong arm around him to support him. Two pirates, Denny and the fat cook they all called Scabs, turned to look at the front of the auction. Rowan didn’t remember being dragged outside. By the door of the auction, he saw the two bodyguards hunched over and bleeding. One was holding his head and the other was massaging his neck, which looked to be decidedly crooked. They kept their eyes on Rowan but were clearly not eager to approach the pirates in a group. Rowan watched as the Greek navigator, Indigo, peeled off a series of bills and handed them to White, who simply shrugged and motioned for the slave girl and his thugs to follow him to a waiting wagon.
“You…you bought my indentureship?” Rowan was thunderstruck.
“Too right,” Indigo said, walking toward him. “When we saw what Sully was up to, we all agreed. We’ll never find anyone tells stories like ye do, mkubwa.”
“You pooled your money?”
“Every last man jack of us,” Aesop said, slapping Rowan’s shoulder and grinning, his teeth looking like broken Chiclets dropped in chocolate.
“We had no choice,” Ansel said earnestly. “Sure, how else are we gonna find out what happened to Captain Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl if ye ain’t on board to tell us?”
Rowan started to laugh, and as much as it felt like a Sherman tank charging up and down his ribs, he laughed until he cried and couldn’t stand up. Ansel and Denny grabbed him by both arms and kept him on his feet.
“I’ll be sworn! Two big men can’t bring ‘im down and Ansel does it just by talking.”
“What say ye, mkubwa?” Scabs said. “Ye ready for that beer yet? Then ye can pick up the story where ye left off.”
“Do you have money?” Rowan asked, wiping his eyes and grinning.
“Oh, yer paying, matey! The rest of us is fair broke.”
As Rowan was maneuvered away from the auction and back toward the harbor where the pubs and taverns lay, watching them nod in his direction, their eyes glowing with friendship and good spirits, he couldn’t help but feel grateful to belong to this bunch of wild, godless men. And for that moment in time, belong to them he did.
Four hours later, they were all broke, drunk, and sleeping in a rented room over one of the bars. Rowan had little recollection of how he ended up there but was glad none of them tried to cross the narrow gangplank back to the Die Hard when the night of drinking was done. Someone had had the sense to rent the room. It might even have been him.
When he awoke in the early hours of the next day, six snoring pirates lay in piles on the floor and across the bed. The room was no better than a shack with a roof, and as Rowan watched a shock of lightening brighten the early morning sky, he was grateful beyond measure for it. As soon as he could move, he planned to head back to the Die Hard. If that meant officially signing on as a willing crewman to Sully’s pirate gang, then so be it.
Jack Sparrow or not. He was going to get his hands on that lighter. One way or the other.
19
“Are you alright, Ella?” Adele stood by the front door, tugging on her leather gloves. After an hour’s lesson with Lawrence, Ella knew Adele usually took a long walk alone. She said it helped clear her head of all the things Lawrence seemed intent in putting in there. “I’d love some company.”
Ella joined her at the foyer and picked up her bonnet. To Ella, it looked and felt like a small wastepaper basket adorned with velvet ribbons. “That sounds great,” she said, jamming the hat on her head and letting the ribbons dangle.
Adele followed her. “Wrong way, Ella,” she said. “If you continue that way you end up at the wharf. We don’t go that way without an escort.”
“Fine,” Ella said, switching directions and walking next to Adele. The shoes she wore fit her foot high over the ankle but had no arch and were thin-soled. Ella had to admit they were pretty. In fact, they were perfect for sitting in a parlor reading. Less so for afternoon walks.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Ella gave her a sidelong glance. “How old are you?”
“I know about what happens between a man and a woman, if that is what you’re asking. Are you worried about your wedding night?”
Ella pulled her skirt away from her body and received an immediate look of censure from Adele. How does she walk in these things? It was so hot, Ella felt the stickiness of the heat and humidity trapped against her skin by the heavy brocade cloth. It was all she could do not to grab the skirt by the hem and carry it front of her to cool her legs. “No,” she said. “The wedding night is the least of my worries.”
“How so?”
“I don’t think I love Lawrence.”
Adele stopped walking and her mouth formed a perfect “O.” Her eyes were wide but blinking rapidly.
“I don’t even know him,” Ella said. “I barely remember him and I certainly never remember telling him I’d marry him. I mean, seriously, we’re nothing alike.”
“Are you feeling…do you really think you may not love him?” Adele said in a horrified gasp. The color in her cheeks had risen to a sharp pink.
“Yeah, I really do. In fact, I think he’s kind of an ass.”
“Oh, Ella! I can’t bear to hear this. Lawrence adores you.”
“Adores me flat on my back you mean.”
They turned at the end of Main Street where it intersected with a smaller, less traveled road. A man in a horse cart plodded along going in their same direction. Ella thought he might be asleep or drunk, the way he sat hunched over the reins. Oh, well, I suppose the horse knows where’s he’s going.
When Adele looked at her in confusion, Ella explained. “He told me that we have expressed our love physically and since I have no memory of that—”
“Oh, stop! No, I don’t believe it. Lawrence would never, never attempt something like that.”
“Okay, well, I hate to disillusion you but he attempted exactly that last night when everyone in the house was asleep.”
Ella felt tiny beads of sweat develop on her upper lip at the thought that Adele might actually faint in the middle of the street. “Sweetie, are you going to pass out? Because we need to find a park bench or something then.”
“You must tell him no,” Adele said, her face blushing so red that Ella wondered if she might have a heart condition. “I am appalled. I am heartbroken that he is the kind of man…and that you could allow—” Adele began to fan herself with her clutch purse.
“I allowed nothing,” Ella said grimly, her face reddening with the memory of just how far Lawrence had gotten before she shut him down. “But I don’t want a repeat performance.”
“Is it possible…are you afraid you may not be able to control yourself?” Now Adele really did look like she was about to pass out.
Ella couldn’t help but snort at the notion. “No. I am not afraid of that.” Ella didn’t consider herself frigid. And she didn’t think Lawrence was unattractive. But the truth was her body had not responded to his touch.
“Look, Adele. I’m sure it’s my fault. I should’ve laid down some ground rules with him in the beginning.”
Adele reached out to take Ella’s arm whether for support or to lead her, Ella wasn’t sure. Adele tur
ned them to retrace their steps back to Main Street. When she did, Ella saw a trio of pelicans flying low over where the harbor must be. Watching them in graceful flight, gliding in unison without once flapping their wings, she was struck by how free they were.
“I should say so,” Adele said. “Everyone knows men are weak. If you have allowed him to…to…” Adele glanced meaningfully in the general vicinity of Ella’s body as if she were radioactive.
“I know, I know. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Because I don’t know how it is where you come from—”
“Adele,” Ella said firmly, “I’ll handle it.”
“I was going to say,” Adele said primly, clearly stung by Ella’s interruption, “that I have heard cases like this from Papa and, trust me, it never ends well.”
Ella frowned. “What do you mean? It never ends well for whom?”
“Well, whom do you think? A woman who gives herself to a man without the protection of marriage? Or even one who would prefer to live alone rather than as someone’s wife? Does that sound sane to you?”
Ella didn’t answer. She had a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.
“In this part of the world,” Adele said, looking steadfastly ahead and not sparing a glance at Ella, “a woman like that would be institutionalized for her own good.”
The word hung between them like an obscene threat.
Institutionalized.
Suddenly, Ella felt the thick and oppressive heat evaporate and for the rest of the walk home she felt quite chilled.
That evening Ella tried to imagine how Lawrence would react when she told him the engagement was off. Did he really have money that belonged to her? It didn’t matter. She had enough jewelry to sell to keep her comfortably. The bigger question, as soon as she rid herself of the distraction of her engagement, was how do I get back to my own time?
After her walk, Ella returned to her room, bathed and napped. She packed her few meager possessions in her valise and set about preparing to dress for dinner. Although she didn’t think she’d be flung out into the streets after she broke the engagement, neither did she believe she’d be welcome to stay long.
Whether or not her talk with Lawrence would prompt the good Judge to take steps to have her committed would be a tangle she would attempt to unknot tomorrow. Hell, I’m dressing like Scarlett, might as well think like her.
Before her talk with Adele, she thought it might be possible to get a job of some kind. There were shopkeepers in Key West, to be sure, but they did seem to all own their own shops. What other kind of work could she possibly hope to find?
I’ll find something, she thought with growing irritation as she tried to clip the fake extensions into a hairstyle that looked remotely like some she had seen on the street. And I won’t be here long. I’ll find my way back to 2013. Somehow. There must be a way. I found my way here, I can find my way back again. Maybe the Cubans know something? Aren’t they into voodoo and magic?
She let her arms drop to her vanity table in defeat, a long tendril falling from her hair. I don’t even know if what happened to me is magic. Maybe I’m a part of some kind of government science project that cracked the time space continuum. She glanced out the bedroom window, dark now with the evening. But if that’s so, then I really am stuck here.
Is my Dad wondering where I am? She pinned one of her emerald brooches to her blouse and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Is there anybody else in 2013 who would care?
Am I being too hasty giving Lawrence the heave-ho? He would take care of me. He would give me a home. Her eye caught the reflection of her unmade bed in the mirror.
No. There was nothing there. No heat. No magic.
She stood up and nodded with satisfaction at her reflection in the mirror. The gown was low-cut with the tops of her breasts nearly cresting the lace-trimmed bodice. Her face took on a determined countenance, her mouth set stubbornly.
I’d rather they lock me up with all the other sex-crazed unmarried women than marry Lawrence Bingham.
Lawrence made moony eyes at her all through dinner. Ella listened to Adele, a little more subdued than usual, and her father hold up most of the conversation and tried to enter in when she could. His Honor Robert Morton loved to tell stories at the dinner table, and even after only two days Ella realized he was starting to repeat himself.
“Well, Miss Pierce, I trust you are feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you, Judge. And again, I am so grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”
“Of course, my dear. After all, you are to be the wife of a young man I think very highly of.”
The servants appeared silently at her side to open lidded dishes for her while she placed broiled fish and potatoes on her plate. The china must have come a very long way, perhaps England.
Everything that was in Key West had come a very long way, she reminded herself. There was nothing naturally here but mosquitoes and fish.
Ella forced herself not to glance at Lawrence. She knew he was preening with pride.
“I’ve noticed you spend long days at your office,” Ella said, sipping her wine. “A lot of trials to settle, I suppose?”
Morton laughed. “Well, not in the way you might think.”
“Papa is the sole Federal district judge in Monroe County,” Adele said, looking fondly at her father. “He’s very important.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Morton said but when he looked at her, his eyes twinkled and shone with love. He turned back to Ella. “Do you know much of the history of the island you find yourself on, Miss Pierce?”
Ella shrugged. “Not really, I guess.”
“We have a unique geographic feature here on Thompson Island.”
“Southern most tip of the US?” Ella ventured.
Lawrence applauded. “Very good, my dear,” he said, nodding and grinning until Ella wanted to toss her sorbet bowl at his head. “Very impressive.”
“Yes,” Morton said, “but even more extraordinary is the fact that we are the tip of a long line of islands that extend from the mainland and Fort Dallas on the east coast.”
“Fascinating,” Ella said, eyeing Lawrence and wondering if it was better for him to drink a lot before she had her talk with him—or not at all.
“To our west is a line of shallow coral reefs—”
“The Florida Reef. Right, Papa?”
“Exactly. Two hundred miles long and stretching all the way to the Dry Tortugas but it hides many dangers.”
“Dangers how?”
“Well, it is full of hidden shoals and coral outcroppings with a powerful current. The combination makes for very precarious crossings.”
“But ships do it all the time, don’t they?”
“They do, Miss Pierce, because the Florida Strait is a major shipping route, but they do it at their peril.”
“They shipwreck on the reef all the time,” Adele said. Ella couldn’t help notice that Adele looked at Lawrence when she spoke but he rarely looked up from his plate unless it was to gaze adoringly at Ella.
“At least once a week,” Morton confirmed.
“And people die in these shipwrecks?” Ella noticed that Lawrence seemed to be knocking the wine back pretty good.
“They do, but the bigger problem is that once the ships wreck upon the reefs they are easy targets for pirates.”
“Pirates?” Ella felt her heart accelerate. Why did the notion of pirates excite her? Was she looking for a pirate?
“Absolutely. Dastardly cutthroats who would as soon kill you as help you across the street.”
“You are upsetting my intended, sir,” Lawrence said. “Perhaps we could change the subject to something more suitable?”
“I’m fine,” Ella said firmly. She turned back to the Judge. “So you’re in court all day hearing trials of captured pirates?”
He laughed heartily. “Oh, no, my dear. I must say our Commodore Porter is doing an effective job of rounding up the brigands, most of whom
, I fear, do not survive the process. No, my days are spent determining who may or may not profit from the salvage from those unfortunate vessels smashed upon our shoals.”
“One a week, Ella,” Adele said emphatically. “And many of them carrying riches beyond imagining. Why, just last month, Etta Lou Billmore told me she heard that one of the ships on its way to New Orleans was carrying a marble ballroom. Can you imagine?”
“So, people row out to the ships…?”
“They do,” Morton said, “if they are certified to do so. Only approved wreckers, as they are called, may salvage a shipwreck. It is my job to ensure that before they attempt to save the ship’s cargo—however precious it may be,” he smiled indulgently at Adele, “they first rescue any passengers or crew.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Well, it’s a lucrative enterprise, Miss Pierce, as I’m sure you can imagine. Wreckers can legally claim up to a fourth and sometimes higher of all that they pull from a ship. If it’s proven that they did not save the ship’s crew before scavenging the hull, I would not be inclined to renew their wrecking license.”
“Papa is very powerful,” Adele said again, dimpling her smile at him. “Everyone on Thompson Island owes his fortune to him.”
“Or lack thereof, it would seem,” Morton said with a sigh.
When the men stood to have their cigars on the veranda, Ella, with a glance at Adele, asked Lawrence if she could have a word. She hated seeing the eagerness in his eyes when she asked him. She realized she had never made an overture in his direction and how starved he must be for that.
It couldn’t be helped.
She walked out of the dining room, leading the way to the back garden. A narrow brick walkway wound around boxwoods and flowering native plants, leading to a small wooden gazebo and a free-standing cookhouse at the rear of the lawn. She walked to the gazebo. There would be enough privacy there for their conversation and because the gazebo was open on all sides, there would also be many ways to leave in a hurry—for Lawrence as well as herself.
Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3) Page 17