Raven Quest

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Ernest, that’s absurd.”

  “Is it?” He started across the deck, then turned. “If it’s so absurd, why are you standing out here in the rain instead of being with Miss Rory in your cabin?” He strode away.

  Nathan clenched his fist on the rail. Ignoring the spray that sliced into his face as he walked to the ladder that led to the lower deck, he shook his head. It couldn’t be that! He couldn’t be upset at the idea of having Rory in his life. Heavens above, he had offered de Palma a huge share of the gold for the chance to save her from Yellow Hal Warwick. He had given the pirate the promise of an even larger share of the Raven’s gold to ransom Rory off the Scourge.

  But he could not imagine her living in Maryland colony. She would be ostracized, for the truth of how she had been raised could not be kept concealed forever. Any web of lies they spun would be torn apart by the truth.

  Pausing by the door to his cabin, he reached for the latch. He drew his hand back. He knew what he wanted. He had sailed these blasted waters seeking it for more years than he wanted to recall. When he returned to Maryland, he intended to see all those who had laughed at him regret their quick judgment and wish they had signed on to find a dream. He wanted each of them to long to trade places with him as their jeers became envy at what he had found here in the Caribbean.

  Envy at what he had found here in the Caribbean.… He pushed back his wet hair again as he watched his hand reach for the door. Opening it, he stepped inside. The stormy afternoon’s shadows were thick, but Rory’s hair still glowed like her father’s fabled gold. It was spread across his pillow. Her face was lying in profile to him, and his gaze followed her pert nose and the curve of her cheekbone that led to her stubborn jaw and defiant chin. And her lips, her soft, luscious lips.… Craving tightened along his body as his eyes adjusted to the dim light so he could see her shapely leg sticking out from under the blanket. He wanted it entwined with his as he relished her touch and the pleasure waiting in her arms.

  Rory Mullins, Aurora Raven Mullins, daughter of a privateer and an indentured servant, was the prize he had found in the Caribbean. She had dreams as big as the sea and a heart as deep. She fought like a man, was as easily hurt as a little girl, and loved him with a woman’s touch. She asked nothing of him but that he let her love him.

  With a groan, he dropped into his chair. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his palm. Ernest was right. He could not imagine taking Rory home to Maryland, but he could not imagine leaving her behind either.

  Nathan was not sure how long he had sat there, watching her sleep. A sharp knock brought him to his feet and to the door. He opened it to see Alfred on the other side.

  The cook grinned and stepped inside to set a tray on the table. “Ernest said you might want to eat here tonight, Cap’n.”

  He started to hush the cook, but Rory sat up rubbing her eyes and keeping the blanket close to her. “It’s all right, Nathan. I’m awake.”

  When she yawned, he chuckled and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  He pointed to Alfred, who was dripping water on the floor as he pulled a cloth from over the food. “It’s time for supper.”

  “Already?” She started to swing her legs over the side of the bed, then pulled them back, an endearing flush climbing her cheeks.

  Alfred kept his eyes lowered as he said, “All set for you, Cap’n. You’ll want to drink the chocolate while it’s still warm.”

  “Thanks.” Nathan clasped the cook’s arm. “Not just for this, but for your help with Warwick’s men.”

  The cook’s color became as ruddy as Rory’s. He nodded and rushed back out into the storm.

  “Did I hear him say chocolate?” Rory asked as she stood. She gasped and almost fell as the ship rose on a wave and dropped sharply.

  Nathan took her arm and guided her to the chair. The blanket tumbled off her shoulders, and he savored the sight of her dressed only in the chemise that clung to her beguiling curves. “Chocolate and some fish that must have been caught before the storm came up.”

  She clutched the chair. “How bad is it?”

  “The rain is easing.” He looked out the window. “The waves should calm down soon, too.”

  “And then the Scourge will be visible.”

  He massaged her tense shoulders. “Sweetheart, Warwick has been stalking you all your life, even though you didn’t know it until a few weeks ago.”

  Pouring two cups of chocolate, she handed him one. He sat on the bed and sipped it.

  “Is Ernest joining us?”

  “I doubt it.” He winced.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Curse her keen eyes! He hated lying to her, but how could he be honest with her when he was no longer certain what the truth was? “Everyone’s tense about what’s going to happen when we reach Raven Isle.”

  “Raven Isle?” She laughed, a sound belonging to the sparkle of sunlight on the sea. “Why not Aurora Isle? We’re traveling east into the sunrise.”

  “Raven Isle seems a better fit.” He took another sip of his chocolate. “This is good, Rory.”

  “Everything tastes good to me.” She took another forkful of fish. “Yellow Hal didn’t see fit to feed me. Maybe he thought he could starve me into parting with the map.”

  Putting his empty cup on the table, he reached past her and lifted the coral box off the shelf. “I wish I could have known your father, Rory. He must have been a remarkable man to arrange all this, to make sure his child got his gold.”

  “I wish I could have known him, too.” She took the box and ran her finger along the shells. “I know he could never have guessed it would turn out this way.”

  “Maybe so, maybe not. Remember, he suspected Warwick would try to find the Raven’s gold.”

  She set the box back on the shelf. With a shiver, she stood. “Nathan, I’m sorry. If I had had any idea that Yellow Hal was really in Havana—”

  He folded her hands between his and drew her down to sit beside him. “Sweetheart, you told me what you saw. I didn’t believe you. I convinced you that seeing him was only a trick of the sun.”

  “I did see the Blindman, too.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  Stroking her soft hair, he rested his cheek on her head. “I never really told you how sorry I am that—”

  “I’ll see his death avenged. Somehow.”

  He chuckled.

  She sat straighter and frowned at him. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you.” He smoothed the lines from her forehead. “I was just enjoying the thought of how you would make Warwick pay. Boiling oil maybe?”

  “First, we have to get to Raven Isle and get the gold.” She looked down at her hands. “Nathan, I know you promised Yellow Hal a share, but my father wanted to keep him from having any of it.”

  “But your father wanted you alive. That’s what the share of gold is buying. Your life.”

  “And yours? Yellow Hal has no reason to keep you alive.”

  “He must, unless he wants to drag my corpse all over the island.” He stood and went to the closet. Opening it, he drew out an iron manacle. With a grin, he dropped it on the bed.

  “Do you always give women such fancy jewelry?”

  He did not laugh as he knelt in front of her. “This is no joke. It may be your salvation when we reach Raven Isle. With one end around your wrist and the other around mine, Warwick will have to deal with us as a team.”

  “Is that what we are?” Her eyes began to glow with a soft light that sent a quiver through him. “Are we a team?”

  Instead of answering, he pulled her up into his arms. He had no answer. He did not know what they were. All he wanted to think about was her in his bed with him. As he teased the curve of her ear, her arms swept around his shoulders.

  “Maybe,” he whispered, “I’ll try out those manacles on you right now. That way, I’d always keep you in my bed.”

  She put her hand
s on both sides of his face and tilted it so she looked up at him. “There are other ways, much more pleasant ways, you can keep me here.”

  Her soft words sent a lightning hot longing through him. She moaned softly as he loosened the ribbons on her chemise. She sighed as his fingers wove a path of pleasure along her spine. He drew the flimsy cloth down her back, lowering it until it fell at her feet.

  As she opened his shirt, her fingers trickled down his skin like soft rain. Each touch threatened to send his mind careening. Tossing aside his shirt, she leaned against his chest as she loosened his breeches.

  “Rory …” He must be honest with her.

  “Hush,” she whispered, her tongue outlining his lips as she pushed his breeches to the floor. She drew back and yawned.

  “Still sleepy?” he teased. “After you slept away the afternoon?” Before she could retort, he yawned, too. “Now you have me doing it.”

  “If we’re going to sleep together, we might as well tire ourselves out.”

  “Sweetheart, we should—”

  “Talk later.” With a laugh, she shoved him back onto the bunk.

  He stretched out an arm and toppled her on top of him. She laughed, then pressed her lips to his. When his fingers swept up through her hair, she drew them away.

  “The back of my head’s still tender,” she whispered.

  Fury threatened to overwhelm him as he thought of how Warwick had abused her. It faded when she bent to murmur against his ear, “So we’ll have to make love this way.”

  With a moan, he claimed her lips with a fervor he could not govern. His gaze held hers as his fingers rose to cup her breast. When her eyes closed and she gasped his name, he pulled her up so he could bring its tip into his mouth, taunting it with his tongue. She moved against him, offering him what he ached for.

  Tipping her onto her side, he ran his hands along her. When he touched the softest surface of her inner leg, she arched toward him. He pulled her even closer.

  Her legs entwined with his, just as he had imagined. As his lips moved along her throat, her fingers slipped over him. He closed his eyes and let pleasure surround him.

  He steered her lips to his. The deep thrust of his tongue into her mouth ignited his all-consuming desire. His fingers probed her most intimate secrets as he pinned her to him, savoring every motion of her against him.

  Drawing her up over him again, he pushed back her soft hair so he could see her face as he brought their bodies together. For one perfect moment, he watched her eyes light with ecstasy. Then, he captured her lips again, moving with her. As her breath strained against him, he heard her gasp of rapture before he gave himself to infinite pleasure.

  Something exploded. Not an explosion of the joy of holding Rory in his arms, but something that threatened to rip apart his ears.

  Nathan rolled over and fell onto the deck. He tried to stand but his legs refused to hold him. Clawing his way to his knees, he rested his head on the rumpled sheets.

  “Rory?”

  He got no answer. Raising his head, he saw that the bed was empty.

  Another explosion. Pistols firing!

  He fought to stand. The ship shuddered with an explosion, and he collapsed onto the bed.

  The deck tilted at an impossible angle, and objects rained off the shelves. Rory’s coral box fell, shattering. He struck his head on the bed. Everything whirled madly.

  He was unsure if a moment or an hour passed before he could grip the window sill and force his legs to hold him. The ship was sailing fast but not at top speed. He strained his ears but could hear no more explosions. What had happened?

  Balancing against the wall, he lurched to the door and threw it open. Blood splattered the deck. Two men lay contorted only a few feet from the door. He tried to reach the closer one and fell to his knees. Hearing orders shouted from the stern, he paid them no attention as he turned the man over. Alfred’s eyes stared lifelessly up at him.

  Hearing running feet behind him, he looked up to see Ernest rushing toward him. “What happened? Who killed Alfred and—” He squinted at the other body. “One of Warwick’s men?”

  “Both of them are Warwick’s men,” Ernest growled, helping his captain to his feet and pulling Nathan’s arm around his shoulders so he did not collapse again. “Alfred sold us out to Warwick.” He pointed at the bow where the mast was broken. “We all would have gone down if Warwick’s gunners had had better aim.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ernest helped him to sit on the steps to the lower deck. “We were betrayed by one of our own.”

  Nathan cursed weakly. “Alfred?”

  “He didn’t give Warwick’s men any sleeping powder. They only pretended to be asleep. He saved it for the Vengeance’s crew. Put it in the chocolate he served with supper, knowing everyone not on watch would drink it. When most of the crew was sound asleep, the Scourge nearly ran us down.”

  Fear ripped away the last of his drowsiness. “Rory?”

  “She’s gone, Cap’n.”

  “Gone?” He shook his head. Had someone fired a ball into him? The pain in his gut was so intense. He should have seen this coming. Warwick had been too agreeable about handing Rory over. Now it was all too easy to see what the pirate had planned. Knowing she would never give him the route to the gold, he had given her back to Nathan long enough to fix a course. Then he had stolen her again.

  “We tried to stop them,” Ernest said, his voice breaking, “but there were too many of them. We chased them away from your cabin before they could kill you but not quickly enough to keep them from taking Miss Rory. When their cannon fired on us, we had to flee. They got the forward mast, so we could not give chase right away.”

  “Where are we bound now?”

  “Still east but farther to the north than we had been.”

  Nathan stood, ignoring how he wobbled. “Set course for Raven Isle, Mr. Dawes.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” He hesitated, then said, “We can’t catch them.”

  “True, but we still may be able to get there before they find the gold.”

  “And Miss Rory?”

  His teeth clenched as he scanned the eastern horizon, now darkening with night. “What did you say when we started out on this joint effort to reach Raven Isle?”

  “May God have mercy on our souls?”

  “Aye, and may the devil take Warwick if he harms Rory.” His lips twisted. “And may I be there to help him.”

  Fifteen

  “How much did you give her?” Rory heard from within her dreams. “You told me she would be awake before we reached the island.”

  The island! They had reached Raven Isle? Already? Nathan should have wakened her so she could see the island as soon as it was in sight.

  She tried to open her eyes but their lids refused to rise. Something that smelled horrid was held under her nose, and she gagged. Her hand came up to push whatever it was away. She cried out in horror when her arm fell back to the mattress, as if Nathan’s heavy manacle was locked around it.

  The disgusting smell filled her next breath and she choked, opening her eyes. Tears burned from her eyes as she gasped for air that was not tainted with that odor. Everything was out of focus. She rubbed her eyes, and the blurs standing before her slowly formed into men.

  She shrieked as Yellow Hal leaned toward her. What was he doing on the Vengeance? Where was Nathan?

  He seized her arms and jerked her up to sit. In disbelief, she stared at the cabin where she had been imprisoned on the Scourge before. She groped for a blanket when the men’s lecherous gazes burned through her thin chemise.

  Wrapping it around her shoulders, she pulled it tight to her chin as she locked eyes with Guillermo. He huddled in one corner. His clothes were filthy and torn, and he had the desperate look of a hunted animal.

  Her chin was grasped and forced toward Yellow Hal. “We’re at Powell’s Island, Rory, my girl.”

  “Raven Isle,” she whispered.

  “I don�
��t care what it’s called. I want the gold.”

  “If it’s sunk in a cove—”

  He roared with laughter, and his men joined in. “The Raven isn’t here. I saw her sink a hundred miles out from Jamaica.”

  “You sunk the Raven?” She tried to focus her eyes—and her mind. When she saw Yellow Hal’s smirk, she wanted to rip it from his face, but even forming the thought nearly undid her.

  “I sunk her when Powell wouldn’t reveal where his gold was.” His fingers twisted in her hair. “But you will.”

  “Where is the Vengeance?” Her heart refused to beat as she waited for his answer.

  He sneered. “The cowards fled. We got at least one of their masts, so another strong storm should finish them off if they can’t limp back to Havana.”

  Rory breathed a prayer. Nathan must still be alive. Yellow Hal would have told her first thing if he had killed Nathan.

  He dragged her to her feet. She fought not to fall. Holding onto the table, she listened as he shouted orders to have the small boat lowered so they could go to the island.

  Guillermo pushed himself to his feet. “But, Captain Warwick, if we’re not in the right place—”

  “We’ve sailed around this whole island, and this is the only cove deep enough for the Raven, or any other ship its size, to get close to shore to unload the gold.” Yellow Hal licked his lips. “Now we’ll load it back aboard the Scourge.” He grabbed Rory’s arm. “Come, my girl.”

  She took a step and tripped on the blanket. With a curse, he pulled it off her shoulders.

  “Please, I—” she gasped.

  Yellow Hal snickered, but Guillermo stepped forward. Taking off his coat, he held it out for her to slip her arms into. The coat was long enough to almost reach to her knees.

  “Always the gentleman, Herrera y Fallas?” he taunted.

  “I think only of keeping your men’s minds on the pursuit of the gold.”

  Yellow Hal chuckled. “Maybe I underestimated you.”

  “Maybe you did.”

  The pirate pulled Rory out of the cabin and led her to the boat. Her muddled mind tried to persuade her that she had lived this before, that she was going to the Vengeance. Not this time, she knew.