Raven Quest

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “What has he done?”

  “Nothing.” Turning, she took his hands. “And neither have I. I did nothing to encourage this invitation. In fact, I tried to refuse it.”

  “Ernest told me that you would.” He smiled and kissed her cheek before glancing back into her room. “You are living in grand style, Rory.”

  “Don’t you and Ernest have nice rooms?”

  He held up a single finger. “Room, Rory. The room we are sharing is no bigger than this balcony. Do you think they hope to convince Ernest and me to go back to the Vengeance and leave you here?”

  “They’re wasting their time. When you leave, I do, too.” Her fingers behind his head brought his lips to hers. All fear, all anger, all the loneliness dissolved into the heat of his touch.

  His lips moved along her face before settling once more on her mouth. His kiss became a demand to give herself to him as her fingers dipped into the back of his collar to stroke his sweaty skin. With a smile, she drew him into her room and closed the door.

  “Rory—”

  She put her finger to his lips. “Don’t speak. Show me what you want.”

  His hands framed her face as he whispered, “I want you.”

  She moaned in eager desire as his tongue slid along her throat in search of the delights hidden there. He reached for the hooks on her gown, pausing only to give her a chance to protest. Looking up into his sparkling eyes, she pressed his hand against her in a silent entreaty for the love she wanted.

  His voice was husky as he whispered her name before his lips tantalized hers, and he released the hooks beneath the lace. She had thought of this moment from the first time she fastened the dress into place. Then, she had not known how strong her yearning for him would grow. The dress slipped unnoticed to the floor. His hands curved around her waist and untied her petticoats, pushing them over her hips.

  She gasped at his fervor as his tongue led hers in a merry chase and his arms folded her to him. A shiver raced along her skin when it brushed his. He scooped her up into his arms. As if she was made of the finest crystal, he placed her carefully on the bed.

  “You’re so beautiful, Aurora Raven Mullins,” he breathed.

  “Rory,” she whispered with a smile. “Just Rory.”

  “Always my Rory.”

  When she held her arms out to him, he leaned over her and brought her into his arms again. Eagerly, she undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off to toss on the floor. She chuckled as he gasped when she touched the broad muscles of his chest.

  Her laughter vanished beneath his mouth as he pressed her to the bed. When his fingers encircled her breast, she quivered. This she could not control. This she did not want to control. She wanted the rapture to take control of her, of him, of all they could share. She pulled his mouth down onto hers.

  Slowly, he drew the sleeve of her chemise down her arm. He did not hurry as his mouth mounted the slope of her breast. Trembling, she teased his ear with her tongue until his breath etched her skin with luscious fire.

  He undid the ribbons on her chemise and drew it from her as he kicked off his breeches. Her breath exploded in a gasp at the incredible sensation of her body against his. Boldly, she traced his hard body with her fingertips. So many textures—rough and silky, each a separate delight.

  With a ragged chuckle, he pushed her back onto the pillows. His mouth journeyed along her, leaving a trail of heat across her abdomen. She could not control her writhing body as she became an unquenchable flame that blazed most fiercely where his fingers ran along her legs to tantalize her. He captured her lips as he brought them together.

  Closing her eyes, she followed his rhythm. Her breath was frayed against his mouth until, with a pulse of exquisite ecstasy, she melted into him.

  “Rory? Rory? Where are you, sweetheart?”

  Her eyes opened to see Nathan gazing down at her with a smile. “I was in paradise, and you were the one who took me there.”

  “We went there together.”

  He drew her head onto his shoulder as he rested beside her. Her fingers wandered in an abstract pattern across his broad chest.

  They clenched when he murmured, “Tomorrow Ernest and I are going to the marketplace to ask a few questions of a sailor named Simon. I think you should stay here.”

  “No.”

  “Rory, this isn’t Port Royal.”

  She laughed and leaned across him. Smiling down at his frown, she said, “No, it isn’t. Don’t you think if I could survive in that city all alone, I can take care of myself here?”

  “I wish we could have devised another lie that didn’t include the Raven’s name.” He sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  She ran her fingers down his back and smiled softly when his breath caught. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she whispered, “You sound as if you’re worried about me.”

  He turned and caught her by the shoulders. “How can you think otherwise?”

  “You have made it pretty clear that you wish you could put me off the Vengeance.”

  “You’re right about that.” His fingers bit into her arms as she choked back her horror. “By all the saints, Rory, don’t you understand it’s because I don’t want anyone to hurt you? Not Yellow Hal, not this priest and his lecherous great-nephew.” His hand stroked her cheek. “Not me.”

  She swallowed hard. There was only one way he could hurt her—by abandoning her as she once had believed her father had abandoned her mother. Closing her eyes, she knew she had been foolish to think there might be a life together for them at the end of this quest. He would be returning north to his home, a place where no one would accept a woman who had pretended to be a boy in a brothel. He would never let his dreams go, so she must hold onto hers. A small house and a garden, which she could buy only if she had a share of the gold.

  “Then don’t shut me out of your quest, Nathan.” She took a deep breath and whispered, “It’s mine too, now.”

  “Tonight,” he answered as softly, “all I care about is that you are mine.”

  She knew she should turn her face from his kiss. She knew she should tell him that this had been a mistake. She knew she should tell him that she had fallen in love with him.

  Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and let him lure her back into the enchantment. She would enjoy this fleeting happiness as long as she could.

  Nine

  The next day dawned cloudless and hot, as it had for months in Jamaica. Lying in her bed, Rory held Nathan’s pillow close to her. He had left before sunrise, urging her to get some sleep before their trip to the marketplace. How could she when he had made her dreams come true last night? She wanted to revel in every moment she could with him. Maybe he felt the same, because he had agreed that she could join them. Or maybe he simply feared what might happen to her if he did not watch over her. He had dismissed all her assertions that she could take care of herself.

  Rory drank the chocolate Nicte brought but was too excited to sample the fried bananas. She dressed and ran down the stairs. At the bottom, Luz and Señora Fallas watched with disapproval before gliding away.

  Today she refused to let their condemning expression bother her. She was set for an adventure in this foreign city, and she wanted to enjoy every minute of it.

  Her steps faltered when she saw three men waiting for her. Why was Guillermo here?

  Nathan held out his hand to her. She took it, smiling as the lightning pulse of delight leaped between them. As he drew her hand into his arm, he smiled. “Guillermo has offered to be our guide for a tour of the marketplace.”

  “My honor,” Guillermo said through stiff lips.

  His smile returned as he opened the door and motioned for them to go ahead of him. An ornate carriage waited in front of the door.

  “Is it so far?” she asked. “I thought we drove past the market on the way here.”

  Nathan chuckled as he handed her into the carriage. “No, it’s only a few blocks from here. I suspect our h
ost wishes to arrive in style.”

  When Nathan sat beside her, Guillermo chose the seat with his back to the horses. Ernest muttered something and dropped beside their host, but she guessed it would be wiser not to ask him to repeat it. She looked out the window at the blank walls of the houses they passed.

  The noise from the market reached into the carriage as they turned a corner. While Nathan handed Rory out of the carriage, Guillermo ordered it to return for them in a few hours.

  Rory smiled as she looked at the marketplace set in front of a cathedral that was a tepid gray against the brilliant sky. The market was like an overwhelming festival which attacked all her senses. She turned slowly to admire the bright flowers and colors that decorated even the simplest stall. Birds squawked and children ran around the shoppers and merchants. Everyone was talking and negotiating, eager to see what the next stall might hold. Music from several guitars and a drum added to the noise.

  Her smile wavered when she noted Ernest slipping away into the crowd. Curious, she said nothing. She did not want to let Guillermo guess they were hoping to decipher the next line of the poem here.

  Nathan put his arm around Rory’s shoulders and turned her back to face the cathedral. He flashed her a swift smile. Ernest had not been happy to hear that Rory was joining them today. Knowing his first mate was right to be cautious, Nathan also knew that he would be foolish to leave her in that house with Guillermo. He should have listened to Ernest and left Rory on the Vengeance. But if he had, they would not have had last night.

  He stroked her cheek with his finger, and she looked up at him. His breath caught as he saw the quiet fire in her eyes. Too bad they could not have waited a day or two to talk with Simon. He shook himself. What was wrong with him? He had wasted years looking for this treasure, and now it was about to become his. He should not be thinking about the ecstasy he could be sharing even now with Rory.

  Bafflement dimmed the light in her eyes as he steered her to the closest stall. Her shoulders stiffened beneath his arm before she shrugged them off. Watching her slender fingers touch the silver strands hanging from a stick, he almost smiled. Whether she was dressed in breeches or her pretty frock, Rory Mullins could not hide her emotions.

  The silversmith lauded his work and Rory’s beauty, but she only smiled and continued on. Nathan chuckled, wondering if she would have lingered had she understood the man’s words. When Guillermo pushed past him to explain to her what the silversmith had said, Nathan’s fingers curled into fists as Rory brushed her hand against Herrera y Fallas’s sleeve, laughing with him.

  “Cap’n!” Ernest grabbed his arm and hissed, “Simon’s here. Wants to talk to you. Now!”

  He hovered between a smile and a frown. He needed to speak with the sailor, but he did not want to leave Rory alone with Herrera y Fallas.

  He realized how foolish he was being when Rory walked back to him and said quietly, “Go and do what you must. I’ll keep Guillermo busy.” Raising her voice so Herrera y Fallas would hear it as he approached, she added, “Some juice would be lovely, Nathan. Will you bring it to the goldsmiths’ stalls? Guillermo says I must see their work.” She slipped her hand onto Herrera y Fallas’s arm. “Do hurry.”

  He nodded, hearing the sincerity in those two words. He started to follow Ernest, then turned and grasped her. Pulling her to him, he kissed her with swift yearning.

  Rory gasped as Nathan released her. When she swayed, overwhelmed by the longing to throw her arms around him, she heard a mutter behind her. She forced the quivers to cease as she faced Guillermo. “Shall we go?” she asked, hoping her voice did not sound as breathless as it felt in her throat.

  Walking with Guillermo toward the goldsmiths, she struggled to relax. That was impossible. She was too eager to discover if Nathan’s friend could help them. When Guillermo offered his arm, she doubted if her smile looked very sincere.

  She let him talk about the stalls around them and the wares being sold as they strolled through the market. The sun burned into her, and sweat coursed down her back as the minutes inched by. She wished she had given Guillermo another excuse for Nathan to leave. As they passed booths where drinks were being sold, she wanted to stop. But she could not, for that would reveal she had been lying.

  “I think you will appreciate the artisans who work in gold here,” Guillermo said as he steered her closer to the cathedral. “Many have honed their crafts working on the native gold.”

  “I once heard that Spanish explorers melted down the gold they found. I don’t understand why.” She wiped sweat from her nape.

  “No conquistador would bring those pagan symbols back to Spain.” He glanced toward the harbor. “It is a long journey from the gold kingdoms to Spain.”

  “Have you been to Spain?” She needed to keep the conversation going so he would not notice how long Nathan and Ernest had been gone.

  “No, my great-uncle forbids any of us to travel on the sea after my father died there.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  His smile returned. “Like your padre, his death was many years ago. I am happy to remain here with my great-uncle.”

  “I can understand why. Your home is so lovely.”

  “I have heard you were admiring the gardens yesterday before dinner.”

  She nodded, although she wondered if his spies had seen Nathan there with her last night. “I have often dreamed of a house with beautiful flowers surrounding it.”

  “Come and view the glory of the gold, which is even more lovely than flowers.”

  When he led her to the stalls of the goldsmiths, she forgot her discomfort. She stared at the lovely work of gold and gems. Was this what her father’s treasure looked like? Gold and jewels and all manner of patterns from filigree to plate? No wonder men lusted after this. Her fingers touched a gold chain, and a shiver coursed along her.

  “You can’t be cold, mi querida,” Guillermo said with a chuckle.

  “Of course not!” She did not look up from the gold. He was watching her too closely. She must take care.

  Going to the next stall, she admired the items for sale. Another shiver ached on her tense shoulders. She put her fingers to her cheek. It was both hot and clammy. She must not become ill now. If Nathan and Ernest found the clues they sought, they would not want to delay here while she was sick. Would they leave her?

  Guillermo led her to other booths. She stared at beautiful things she had never seen for sale before, but she could not concentrate on the fine leathers and elegant fabrics. Would Nathan leave her to go find the Raven’s gold? And, if he did, would he come back for her? The silks wavered in front of her. She reached up, but no tears filled her eyes. She must not be ill!

  She stumbled and frowned. Had a loose stone tripped her? She winced as a flash of pain scored her forehead. Maybe she should have remained in bed and slept. Her steps were as uneven as when she had been short on sleep at Yellow Hal’s.

  “Churros are delicious, mi querida,” Guillermo was saying when the rumble in her ears quieted. “Would you like one?”

  She struggled to smile at the man who was frying dough in the bubbling oil. The waves of heat from the vat struck her like the sea against the bow of the Vengeance. Her stomach rocked like the deck.

  “No, thank you,” she whispered, afraid to open her mouth farther.

  “Mi querida, are you all right?”

  She reeled away, putting her hand against the side of the next booth. Her eyes widened as, through the haze of the heat, she saw an unmistakable form. “Blindman!” she cried.

  His laugh rumbled toward her. She ran to him, but her foot caught and she fell to the stones. Pushing herself up, she ignored Guillermo’s shout. She wanted to share with the Blindman what they had discovered, to ask him if he understood the rest of the poem, to be hugged by the arms that had been her sole comfort for so many years—and as she told him how she was afraid she loved a man who loved her father’s gold more than her.

  She took a single s
tep, then froze, another icy shiver skittering down her spine as she saw another form beyond the Blindman. Yellow Hal! No, he could not be here, although the sunlight off his hair warned that he was. Why had the Blindman brought him to Havana?

  Whirling, she prayed he had not seen her. She faltered. How could she leave the Blindman to that beast? Her name was called. Nathan! Dear God, she had to warn Nathan! She took a step and her knees collapsed, dragging her into darkness.

  A soft breath of air stroked her face as Rory opened her eyes. She heard the whisper of rain falling in a soothing song. In confusion, she stared at the ceiling and wondered where she was. There had been so many different beds in her past as she was moved from family to family.

  “How are you, sweetheart?”

  She turned to Nathan as he bent over the bed to place a cooled cloth on her forehead. He handed a dried one to Nicte. Reaching up, she touched his face.

  “Can you speak, Rory? We all have been waiting anxiously for you to awaken.” His slight emphasis warned her others were in the room.

  Even though her head ached, she looked at Ernest who stood at the foot of the bed. His face was haggard. She stared at Padre Fernando and his great-nephew who smiled.

  In a broken whisper, she asked, “What happened? How did we get back here?”

  “You have been delirious for hours.”

  “Delirious?” Involuntarily, she glanced at Guillermo again. He leaned against the wall, acting as if he owned them all. Had she said something to cause that smile?

  As if she had asked aloud, Nathan murmured, “Nothing you said was understandable, Rory.”

  “But what happened?”

  Nathan’s grin was ironic. “We suspect it was too much sun. We assumed you were used to the tropical sun by now.”

  “I never went out without my hat and kerchief in Port—” Her gaze flickered toward their hosts. “At home.”

  “We realize that now, but didn’t until you fainted in the marketplace.”

  She grasped his hand as memory burst through her head. “Nathan, I saw Yellow—” Again she bit back her words.