The crowd of men easily stood down to the one man’s blade. As he fanned them out of the area, Torrence and a dark haired young man—who, by the look of him, I assumed to be her son, Nathaniel—came bashing through the audience. It wasn’t until Torrence fired her pistol that the chaos tamed.
At that point, I watched Mason grab Sterling by the collar. The way he so easily yanked him off of the angry man made me wonder why the hell he hadn’t done that right away. Nathaniel pulled the angry, bearded man back, and as his father held him, Sterling smiled, showing his bloody teeth. “Nathaniel! It’s good to see you, mate!”
“Aye, good to see you, too, Bentley! It’s been so long I thought you might’ve taken up residence in The Locker.” Nathaniel joked while holding Sterling’s attacker still.
Torrence interrupted their friendly reunion with an exhausted huff. “Get that troublemaker out of here before you have playtime with your mate, Nathaniel.”
As Nathaniel dragged the beaten man out of the bar, the crowd resumed their regular festivities as though nothing had happened. As for me, shit, that was the craziest, rowdiest thing I had ever seen! As my sense returned to me, I realized my blood was rushing through my veins like river rapids. I wanted to jump up and start a fight of my own! Just as I began to imagine myself throwing Jackson across a barroom table, I saw Torrence slap Sterling upside the head. “Clean up that mess before I mop it up with your face.”
While Sterling got to cleaning the mess, Mason handed Torrence a bag of loot. “Sorry for the trouble. That damn bloke gives me as much grief as his mother did.”
His mother? Hmm. I had been following their story for over two years now, but had never once imagined a mother figure. I wondered where she was.
Though I could have sat there all afternoon watching the wild life of Mason and Sterling Bentley, I had to get back to my own boring world. Coming to my feet, I caught Torrence’s gaze, and smiled at her as I put my hood on. She blew me a kiss. I liked her, and I would certainly be returning to The Captain’s Wife on my next outing.
Walking out of the door, I was blinded by the bright light of day. Tucked further into my hood, I strolled the street that would lead me home. Along the way I replayed the afternoon’s events and imagined myself being dressed like Notorious Torrence, owning a tavern of my own. While thinking of the questions I wanted to ask her next time I saw her, I looked up from my thoughts to see Brennan Sweeny walking in my direction. The sight of him reminded me that I had denied his offer to court me because I was dedicated to that lying, cheating blacksmith. The ugly memory reminded me that I had a vengeance to seek.
“Hey, there,” I called to Brennen as he passed me.
Halting and looking at me beneath my hood, he squinted in confusion, so I peeked out at him and smiled. “It’s me, Remington. Where are you going?”
“Oh, Remington. Why are you hiding under that cloak?”
“Don’t ask questions you do not want the answers to.” I smiled slyly.
Though he looked at me like I was insane, he chuckled. “Well, then. I was just heading to my room at the inn. I’ll be leaving at dawn and am already as tired as a fat old man.”
I giggled. “Want some company?”
“But you’re, you… I…”
“You’re leaving in the morning. No one will ever know.”
His handsome face lifted with a wicked grin.
We talked a bit on our way up the stairs, and though I liked his Irish accent and enjoyed some of the funny things he said, I hadn’t followed him here for company. I came here so he could undress me and please me, and wash away the pain of my betrayal.
Brennan didn’t move as well as Jackson, but he was bigger where it mattered, and his body was just as muscled. While riding him like the crest of a wave, I realized a few things that would change my life forever. Jackson wasn’t magic, nor was there anything beautiful between us. All we shared was cold, hard sex, and any man could do what he did to me. In fact, as Brennan pulled me back and forth across his lap—causing my body to tingle and spark and eventually ignite like a wildfire—I realized there were some men who could do it even better.
Without getting out of bed, Brennan slapped me on the bare arse and bid me a casual farewell as I got dressed. This was perfect. I loved that he was leaving and I didn’t have to worry about tomorrow with him. Walking out of his door, I smiled and said, “Fair winds and following seas, handsome sailor.”
I floated down the stairs feeling as light as a feather. Not because I loved him, not because I wanted to see him again, but because he satisfied my body in a way that eased my mind.
On my way home I chuckled to myself, that was easy. Jackson Hawke and his stupid little wife weren’t going to ruin my fun. My life here in Port Royal had only begun, and that petty little mishap was but a stepping stone on the path to the woman I was becoming. I was young, I was pretty, and the world was a wide open treasure box for me to plunder.
Chapter 10
Smoldering flames
Wilshire Willows West was even more beautiful than Father had described. The tall, well-guarded wrought iron gate opened to show a grand mansion of clean white walls with dark brown shutters framing each of the large, brightly lit windows. The cobblestone path which was paved amidst the sprawling green lawn was lit with ornate lanterns, and once we came upon the fanciful wooden doors, a finely dressed doorman welcomed us.
The house was already bustling with a pleasant crowd, and as the doormen took Father’s hat and coat, Uncle Lloyd stepped forward to meet us. After greeting Father with a hug, and me a kiss to the knuckles, Uncle Lloyd looked around and asked my father, “Where is your lovely wife.”
Hiding the shame I knew he carried over the fit Mother had thrown before we left, Father sighed, “Oh, she wasn’t feeling well, but she told me to send congratulations.”
“She has always been a ray of sunshine, brother.” Lloyd patted Father’s back. “You certainly met your best fortune by taking Hannah as your wife.”
It was ridiculously hard for me to keep my face from twisting in confusion. He certainly couldn’t have been referring to the same Hannah who troubled my father daily.
“Did Benjamin make it?” Father asked about Lloyd’s son.
“Not this time. A new customer signed on just before we left, asking us to haul a load too big to leave in the hands of anyone else. Knowing how anxious I was to see this place, Ben offered to stay in town and handle it for me.”
“Sounds like a good man.” Father nodded. “I do hope to meet him some day.”
“Soon enough, brother.” Lloyd patted Father’s back again. “I’m just glad we are finally on good terms again. And look at this place! We have accomplished great things together and there is so much more to come.”
To amuse myself as they talked business, I observed the surroundings. The guests were all well-dressed, the servants were polite, and the song of a violin harmonized with the hum of pleasant company. The walls were lined with striped wallpaper, each piece of furniture appeared to cost more than our entire house, and the portraits on the walls were bigger than my bay view window. Floor to ceiling, Wilshire Willows West made Mister Gordon’s mansion in London look like a peddler’s flat.
Though everything was as lovely and the welcoming was warm, I felt terribly out of place. My discomfort greatened as Uncle Lloyd began introducing us to everyone. Mister Gregory, the one who sold Lloyd all the artwork, was polite, but even with his wife beside him I couldn’t help but think he was interested in kissing more than my knuckles. Wallace Wetherby, the richest old man in town, was sincerely kind, but the look of his beautiful young wife reminded me of how thankful I was that my father was allowing me to choose my suitors. Not wanting to take advantage of the unnecessary kindness he was showing me, I took my time to consider the available men at the party.
Mister Hancock was friendly, but old. Mister Richmond was handsome, but snooty. Mister Frankfort was horribly old and fat, and Mister Thompson was too drunk to
tell what he was. Just as I began to think I’d never find a man that my father and I would both approve of, the best looking man I’d ever laid eyes on walked in the room. I heard Uncle Lloyd greet him as Joel Addison.
Though dressed in the same elegant attire as the other men, Joel looked better than every single one of them. Appearing to be about twenty five, his shoulders were broad beneath a lacy ivory shirt, and his chest was wide under an embroidered waistcoat. His face was clean shaven, showing a well-defined jaw, and as he laughed with my father, I took note of the straightness of his teeth. His skin was flawless, his nose was bold, and his eyes were a cool, icy blue. Without a flaw to be found on his person, I began to feel ugly and insignificant, and stood there like a hapless fool when Father introduced me as his lovely daughter.
“Lady Remington.” Joel bent at the knee and kissed my knuckles. “You are far more beautiful than I could have imagined.”
Oh. Well. I suppose he saw me much differently than I saw myself. “Thank you, sir,” I hardly gathered the composure to say.
“How do you like it here in Port Royal?”
“I might like it better if it wasn’t so hot,” I snickered.
He smiled. “I agree. I spend half the year here and half in London so that I do not grow weary of either the fog or the heat.”
The idea of traveling so often and having two different homes enticed me. “Which of your houses do you like better?”
He tapped his chin as he debated. “My home in London is larger and better decorated because I have had it longer, but the one here has a nice covered veranda with a view of the sea. It’s hard to compete with that.” He winked.
“I can see the ocean from my window, too. I love it.”
We talked on for a moment longer, and I found myself just as interested in his personality as in his good looks. I was enjoying his company so much that I was rather disappointed when Lloyd let us know that dinner was being served, but I was thrilled when Joel said, “Please, let me see you to your seat, Lady Remington.”
Pulling out a chair for me, he asked my father, “May I have the honor of sitting beside your beautiful daughter?”
My father looked at me to see if I agreed. I nodded with a smile.
Dinner was long, and the men were so loud carrying on with their business and politics that I hardly got to speak with Joel, but I listened closely to the things he was saying. As Father had told me, the Addison trade supplied WG Shipping with most of their income, and this made Joel out to be the center of attention. I was especially impressed with the confidence he exuded, and began to think that I would certainly be interested in a courtship with him. That was, if he was interested in me…
The crowd lingered for a short while after dinner, and while I talked with Hester Wetherby, I noticed how my father and Joel were engaged in a rather serious conversation. Though Hester was drunk and amusing as could be—telling me that I reminded her of her husband’s pretty daughter, Charlotte—I was too intrigued by my father’s expression to pay her much mind.
While Hester babbled on about Charlotte’s resistance to marriage, Joel approached us and politely interrupted, “Can I have a moment with the lovely young lady, Madam Wetherby?”
With a polite smile, Hester went on her way.
“Are you enjoying your evening?” he asked, flashing me with a dashing smile.
We talked on for a while longer, but just as I realized that I didn’t want my night with him to end, he took my hand and gazed into my eyes. “It is a shame that we only met tonight, for I have enjoyed your company and your beauty greatly, but I am heading back to London with the dawn.”
Saddened by the announcement of his departure, I said, “That is a shame.”
“Ah, I know, my heart weeps over the terrible timing,” he responded. “But perhaps you would allow me to court you once I return.”
“Oh, I would love that!” My cheeks reddened at my blustery outburst.
He kissed my knuckles. “I will be dreaming of the day, Lady Remington.”
Being the last ones to say goodnight, Uncle Lloyd walked me and Father to the door. On the way I took note of the beautiful sword he had braced over the mantle. Not only did I recognize the damned Black Hawke emblem on the blade, but I knew the sword itself. I was there the day Jackson carefully crafted that very piece. With memories of that day flooding my mind in a whirlpool of passion, I felt my cheeks heat with that damned sensual rouge.
Annoyed by the way my heart so easily succumbed to his fervent memory, I cursed in my mind. How would I ever get that blasted blacksmith off my mind if I had to see his work everywhere I went?
As we rode away in the carriage, Father scratched his head and awkwardly asked, “So, uh, how did you respond to Joel’s request to court you? You know, it would be wise to take up this offer, and I do hope you are willing to give him a chance. He is a good man with much to give and…”
Though I could tell he was going to ramble on and on like a nervous old dolt, I let him know that I needed no further convincing. “I said yes.”
Father let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Apparently, Charlotte Wetherby turned him down, and I wouldn’t want to see you make such a foolish decision. You could have a wonderful future with that man.” He laid his hand on mine, warming my heart with his love.
This was my chance to have a normal life. As much as I loved my parents, I was ready to get out from under their roof, and traveling back and forth between London and the Caribbean with Joel Addison sounded like a perfect escape. Plus, he was handsome and charming and Hope had already married his brother, so we would be sisters!
Yes. This was the beginning of my life. Father would be proud, I would be comfortable and cared for, and Mother, oh, there was no telling what she would say or think. But honestly, it didn’t matter. This was a good thing, and above all else, I hoped that giving my love to another man—one who would love me in return—would be the only way to douse the smoldering flames of the fire Jackson Hawke had left burning in my heart.
PART III
The Wind of Change
Port Royal, Jamaica
Autumn of 1663
Chapter 11
Midnight
Wakeup, Remington, wake up.” Mother shook my shoulder. Opening my heavy eyes, I saw that it was still night. Getting home so late from the party, I must have only slept an hour.
“Get up, my darling. We have to go now,” she whispered.
“Where in the world do we have to go?” I sat up. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw that she was wearing that cursed black cloak and her white blonde hair was twisted into her Viking braids.
“We have to leave. Thomas has been fucking that stupid little maid and I refuse to be his idiot wife for another day.”
“What? No. You’re crazy. You have been saying that for years, but it isn’t true.”
“It is true. I saw it with my own eyes. Like the slut she is, she had her skinny white legs wrapped around him in the washroom. I saw it all and I can’t unsee it.”
“You’re crazy. I don’t believe you and I am not going anywhere.” I held strong where I sat.
Laying her cold hand on my wrist, she hissed, “You don’t have a choice.”
Chilled to the bone by her icy touch and motivated by her frightful expression, I stood up to put myself in a less vulnerable position. “I love my father and I am not leaving him.” I tried to sound strong, but the fright in my voice rang clear.
She stood up, as well, and while putting her hood on, she sneered, “Oh, please. That lying, cheating, pompous dog isn’t even your father. You are mine and you will come with me.”
My heart froze in my chest, solidifying the blood in my veins. “What the hell are you talking about?” I stepped away from her.
Instantly remembering Odelia’s mention of me looking nothing like my father, and hearing her sneer about the way my mother did things, the scattered pieces of my greatest nightmare all came crashing together. Odelia knew her secrets!
But whatever the hell they were, she had not lived to share them. I never wanted to believe it, but as I stood face to face with the witch who had been haunting my dreams since that night, I was certain that she was the one who had killed my Aunt Odelia.
“I won’t say another word about the matter until we are safely on our way.” Mother threw me a black cloak. “Put this on and show me how the hell you sneak out of that little window.”
Oh no! She knew what I had been doing. With vivid memories of my home-wrecking harlotry flashing through my terrified mind, I began to fear that she was going to punish me for it. Afraid for my life, I tried to lie. “The window? But I—”
“Don’t play me as a fool, little girl,” she interrupted with a sinister whisper. “I know much more than you think I do. Now, get on your way before I have to resort to force.”
“Force?” My mind raced with fear. I considered screaming for Father, and I contemplated the risk of bolting for the door, but when she pulled a knife out of her cloak, my ice cold blood dropped another degree, freezing me where I stood.
“Here. I believe this belongs to you.” She handed me the blade. It was the one Father had returned to Jackson. The spiral of terror whirling in my mind picked up in speed as she prodded me towards the window. Unable to conjure up a reason to defy her command, I made my way out of my secret escape hole without turning my back to her. Showing her the way down the rooftops, I felt somewhat shielded by my Black Hawke dagger. Whether from her or the wicked world we were now entering, this piece of metal forged by the man who broke my heart was all I had to keep me safe.
Following behind her, with both of our black cloaks blending into the shadows, my questions about the mysteries she kept deepened like the dark of the night we fled through. As far as I knew, she hardly left the house, yet she swiftly managed her way through the back alleyways so smoothly that I was sure she had been wandering them for nights on end. Slinking under stairwells, gliding against stone walls, and tucking into the shadows whenever anyone staggered by, I followed her like my life depended on it, and in all reality, it did.
Every Time It Rains (Uncharted Secrets, Book 3): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 8