The terror part—that was real, too, and it was more than the thought of a child. He was finding himself drawn to her in ways he hadn't expected, and it was magnified by their passion in bed. Far from getting it out of his system, it had only intensified his desire for her, his wish to see how many layers of her secrets he could peel away like peeling away her clothes, the blouse, the skirt, her sheer cotton chemise.
He swallowed.
He also wondered when she was going to tell him about her meeting with Lord Whitfield.
Maybe he was just supposed to walk blithely into whatever trap the two laid for him. Sophia thought she had it all figured out, but she forgot he had contacts in Florida going far and deep, including people who for a few coins were eager to keep him apprised of the Englishman's movements once he'd revealed his hand in Fernandina.
He sighed and turned back to the store. He still had to check out the boat and make sure it was ready for a trip up river. They'd be alone for the next few days, and it might be an opportunity for them to find out if there was more to what was between them than lust for a pirate's treasure. If he could figure out whether she meant to betray and kill him, that would be a bonus, too.
* * *
Dinner with the Reavers was simple food, but there was plenty of it. Ham cooked with corn and beans, swamp cabbage boiled up and served with melting butter, corn bread and milk from the cows. The other "young'uns" had been off fishing when Sophia and Jack arrived, but two tow-headed boys who looked like they'd grow to be the image of their lanky father showed up with a string of catfish. They promised their mama they'd clean the fish and she looked content, if harried with all that was going on.
Sophia leant a hand with the cleaning up, apologizing for not being able to help with the cooking.
"In England I never had to learn." she said. "There were cooks when I was growing up, and then later it was just easier to purchase food at the cookshop next door to our bookstore."
"You can't cook?" Jack said in surprise.
"Too late." Luke Reaver chuckled, dandling Katie on his knee. "That's the kinda valuable information you want to find out before you marry a gal, Jack!"
"Don't you go teasing them now, Mr. Reaver," his wife said as Sophia juggled plates and pitchers for the trip out to the kitchen. "A couple on their honeymoon trip has more important things to worry about than who's doing the cooking."
"That's as may be, Mrs. Reaver," Jack said, "but a man's got to eat! Good thing one of us does know how to cook, otherwise we'd starve."
"I look forward to eating the evidence of that statement, Captain
Burrell," Sophia called out from the kitchen.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with Jack helping Sophia learn how to handle the Reaver's skiff. She'd changed into her boy's clothes for this effort, which got guffaws from the Reaver boys and a smile from Luke, who asked Jack just who was wearing the pants in that new family of his?
The boys cleaned the fish and Martha kept her promise, breading them and fried them up in lard with some corn fritters Sophia swore were the best she'd ever had.
"I can fry fish and fritters, too," Jack interjected. "I think you got the better end of this marriage deal, Mrs. Burrell."
"Your value to me as a husband just keeps increasing," Sophia said and Jack smiled at her, a smile that made her swallow and feel off balance again. He was like a summer day, starting out with clear skies and sunlight, but darkening into a storm by mid-afternoon, changing as you watched, and then clearing back to a sweet evening.
She was learning how to read him like a book, her gambler's skills coming to the fore as she studied him. It was no wonder Whitfield had cleaned Jack out at that gambling party. He practically had "fleece me!" written on his forehead! Leaving him high and dry after she nabbed the treasure was going to be almost too easy.
What would his so-open face look like when he learned the truth about her?
That disturbing thought was interrupted by young Tom Reaver coming out from the kitchen with slices of fruit, pink and green and oozing juice.
"Watermelon!" Jack said. "I don't believe I have had any yet this season."
"What is it?" Sophia said, and the Reavers and Jack stared at her.
"You ain't never had watermelon?" Tom piped up.
"No. It is a melon? But how do you eat it?" she said, eyeing the large chunks of fruit.
"Show the lady, Tom." Martha laughed.
Tom grabbed a chunk off the middle of the plate and dived in headfirst, snapping off a sizable piece, chewing it with delight, and then spitting the seeds out the door.
"You are joking," Sophia said to Jack.
"No, that's how you eat watermelon. You learn this and soon you will be a real Floridian."
He was grinning at her and reached for his own slice of melon, and never one to resist a challenge, Sophia wiped her hand on her table linen and picked up her own slice. The juice ran down her fingers but she managed to bring it up to her lips without too much trickling down her sleeve. She took a bite and there was an explosion of sugar in her mouth, and a cooling sensation from the juicy fruit.
"Oooh," she moaned when she caught her breath, "this is wonderful!"
The Reavers laughed at her response, but Jack seemed entranced by the trickle of juice that escaped her lips to wend its way down her chin. Before she could reach for her own linen, he was leaning over and dabbing at it with his finger.
"You were leaking," he said huskily, then cleared his throat.
"Watemelon's mighty refreshing in the summer," Mr. Reaver said, reaching for a second piece. "I'm sure glad we could introduce you to this treat."
"I can see how you would treasure it," Sophia said. "I appreciate the opportunity to try something new."
After the supper dishes were done Jack brought out his banjo, which had shared space on the mule with their supplies, and played some songs that had the children clapping and Mr. and Mrs. Reaver dancing together.
Martha's cheeks were sunken from care and lost teeth, and Luke's sallow complexion testified to his ongoing fight with malaria, but the two looked at each other like there was no one else in the room and Sophia felt something in her throat catch. She looked over at Jack Burrell, his hair catching gold streaks in the candlelight and she wondered what it would be like to have a life where money didn't matter as much as having someone beside you to talk to at the end of the day, someone to share your cares and sorrows, someone to share your joys.
When the stars were high in the clear sky and the sounds of frogs and crickets filled the night air, the Reavers climbed the narrow staircase to the upper level with Sophia following behind and Jack bringing up the rear with a candle.
It was one large room, with a bed big enough for two, and three small beds arranged against the opposite wall, a curtain separating them. There were two pallets arranged near the children's beds.
"Martha and me will sleep with the young'uns and give you two honeymooners the bed."
"Absolutely not!" Sophia said. "Mrs. Reaver is not going to sleep
on the floor in her condition!"
"Sophia's right, Luke," Jack said. "We can bed down over here with the children, but I appreciate your offer. Your hospitality is a byword on the river, and I know the offer is genuine."
Luke Reaver frowned, but saw his wife's fatigued face and gave in, allowing as how maybe the guests wouldn't be too put out just for this one night. They rehung the curtain to divide a small sleeping space for Sophia and Jack, keeping all the Reavers on the other side.
Tom Reaver did offer Sophia his bed, seeing as how she was small enough she might fit in it, but she declined the offer and settled down next to Jack, the children rustling and making noises behind them on the other side of the cloth. Katie demanded one more "'iss" from everyone before she'd drop off to sleep, and eventually there were only the sounds of the night and the breathing and soft snores of the Reaver family.
Sophia was having a hard time dropping off herself. It wasn
't just the floor was hard beneath her pallet, or because she was sleeping in her clothes, or that she wasn't used to sleeping among an entire family, but it was also the feel of Jack curled behind her, his body wrapped up against hers while his arm anchored her against him.
His breath ruffled the curls atop her head, and his long fingers were splayed across her belly. It wasn't easy, at first, but now she was used to having him sleep next to her, used to the sound of his breathing in the night. If she woke up, he was there, and she'd move closer to him, his large body shielding her, protecting her. Sleeping next to someone was a new thing in her life, and she worried that sleeping next to Jack Burrell, and the other things she did with Jack Burrell, would be a hard habit to break.
She put her hand on her own belly, just above Jack's hand, wondering if there was a new life growing in there. It would complicate everything, but she couldn't help wondering, too, what it would be like...
The curtain separating the Burrells from the Reavers rustled and Sophia saw an undersized shadow, and heard a high pitched giggle, and then the next thing she knew there was a warm little body curling up against hers. Katie patted her on the cheek and said, "Lady!", and then rolled over, stuck her thumb in her mouth and fell asleep atop Sophia's arm.
Sophia was petrified. What was this child doing here? How could she trust Sophia not to do something awful like roll over on her during
the night?
"Jack!" she whispered.
He was asleep, and no help at all. What was she supposed to do? Why had she been singled out for this abuse?
Sophia craned her neck at an uncomfortable angle and looked down at the top of the child's downy head. Katie looked so small compared to her, and that wasn't a comparison Sophia got to make often. Maybe that's why the child liked her. She wasn't a huge lumbering hairy beast.
A soft snore in her ear brought to mind exactly which beast she'd been envisioning. He was no help at all. Here she was, trapped with an infant, and Jack Burrell slept blissfully on.
Sophia toyed with the idea of jumping up and waking the Reavers to retrieve their wandering child, but then Katie snuggled her little bottom against Sophia. Jack's hand shifted to cover hers and he sighed in his sleep as he snuggled himself against her bottom, and it was just too much trouble as the exhaustion of the mule ride in the sun caught up with her, and Sophia drifted off to sleep, warm and cocooned and feeling oddly cherished.
CHAPTER 18The newlyweds set off the next morning up the St. Johns River, a light breeze and puffy clouds in the sky accompanying them on their journey. Their little boat was sloop-rigged and handled well, and Sophia seemed to be enjoying her experience under sail. Her nose, sunburned at the tip, peeked out from beneath the palmetto hat she wore and her excitement at being on the trail of the gold was infectious.
Jack looked at his shipmate, her hand on the tiller, enjoying the freedom of the open river. He wanted to find the treasure for many reasons, but the more time he spent with Sophia, the more he wanted to find the treasure for her. If that's what it would take to keep her, then he would do what he must. He didn't know when her happiness had become important to him, but he'd realized when he saw her at a neck-breaking distance above ground in that damned tree that the idea of not having Sophia in his life was far less attractive than the idea of having her.
If only he wasn't sure she would cut his throat in his sleep to get her money.
No, that wasn't fair. Sophia would look him in the eye while she stabbed him.
Jack put those thoughts aside as he scanned the shore and the bluffs. They'd passed two burnt-out farmsteads and, while the damage was old, it didn't mean there wasn't still trouble lurking about. Luke had taken him aside yesterday, away from the women, and cautioned him to be careful of Seminole raiding parties and leftover troublemakers from the United States' incursions into Florida during the war. There'd been trouble up on the St. Marys River, with the Garrett family, a woman and her two children, murdered and scalped while her husband was away. Plenty of whites on both sides of the border were calling for vengeance and action against the Indians.
Jack unfolded the map Luke drew for him, showing Santiago de Laca. It was on the western side of the river beyond one of the bluffs, and would require some trekking on foot to get there. If nothing else it might make a good campsite for tonight and if there were walls standing, it could offer protection in case of trouble.
"Are you tired from handling the boat, Sophia?"
She laughed aloud. "This is wonderful, Jack! I feel like I am flying on the water. It was never like this, sailing to America."
Jack smiled. "You wouldn't feel that way if you were sitting with your boat in irons. Remember what I told you? You're on a beam reach now, but the first rule of sailing is 'the wind's always wrong for you.' Today you got lucky."
"That's because you are with me, Lucky Jack," Sophia said, tossing him a saucy grin.
"You keep telling yourself that, kitten. As long as you think I'm your lucky charm you'll want to keep me around. Now, switch places with me—without rocking the boat over, please—and I'll take us ashore."
Sophia helped Jack pull the boat up on shore and hide it in some tangled trees and shrubs growing close to the water. Their rope and most of their supplies he left in the boat, giving Sophia a satchel to sling over her shoulder while he took the rifle.
"The path, what there is of it, is going to be narrow and overgrown. I want you to stay directly behind me and keep your eyes and ears open."
"Yes, Jack," Sophia said solemnly as she looked around them at the woods that loomed before them.
The mockingbirds were in full throat and kept company with the couple as they .made their way through the woods. Jack looked over his shoulder. Sophia was struggling behind him, her face shining with sweat, but he refused to feel sorry for her. She'd promised to walk through hell barefoot to get the gold, and a Florida spring day wouldn't be her undoing. At any point she felt this was too much for her, he'd take her up to Savannah, leave her with his family, and then return on his own with his own men to search for the gold.
But it wouldn't be as exciting.
He ignored that inner voice and kept moving, then held up his hand to stop her.
"The mission should be just on the other side of that ridge."
"Why are we stopping?"
Jack didn't say anything, but took his rifle and moved cautiously forward, at a crouch. He heard Sophia behind him but she wasn't asking useless questions. He raised his hand to make her stop.
"I smell smoke," he said in a low voice. "Stay behind me."
Jack dropped down close to the ground and moved forward. Sweat trickled down his neck and a mosquito buzzed near his ear, but he ignored it. Sophia was close behind him, and when they were at the top of the ridge Jack crouched and quietly lay down, his rifle in hand, his head barely poking over the top. Sophia inched up alongside him.
Ahead he could see the outline of old walls, now mostly crumbled, and scattered stones covered with vines. Two walls still standing halfway formed a V, and a small, almost smokeless campfire burned. There was a pack on the ground, but no other sign of human habitation. No horse, no mule, no people.
"Tell me you have a plan, Jack," Sophia said in a low voice.
"Yes, what is your plan, Cap'n Jack?"
Jack froze and he stared at Sophia, whose eyes were wide in her face. As one they both turned to look over their shoulders. A very large, very black Indian stood about ten feet away, expressionlessly watching them, a musket in his arms.
"Reuben," Jack said.
"Cap'n. Long time."
"Um, can we stand up, or is he going to shoot us?" Sophia whispered.
"Get up. Keep 'way from the weapons," Reuben said.
Jack rose to his feet and gave Sophia a hand, and she stood and brushed the sand and dirt off the front of her clothes.
"You Cap'n Jack's woman?"
Jack could tell she was debating how to answer that, but common sense kicked in
.
"Yes, I am married to Captain Burrell."
His glance flicked over her, and he grunted dismissively. "Not much to you."
Sophia drew herself up to her full height. "I have it on good authority I am worth three opossums!"
A twitch dented the corner of Reuben Factor's mouth and he looked
at Jack. "You pay three possums for this?"
"At the time it seemed like a good idea," Jack said, putting down his rifle and brushing off his own clothes.
"No, he did not pay—tell him, Jack!"
Jack ignored this and focused on the black Seminole. "So you made it to freedom with the Indians after all. I'm glad for you."
Reuben's eyes narrowed. "Freedom's a fragile thing, Cap'n. What're you doing away from white towns? You and your woman? You scouting for land to settle?" He punctuated this last sentence by spitting on the ground.
Jack shook his head. "No, Reuben, we're no threat to you or your clan."
Reuben did not look convinced by this. "I been following since you came ashore. You two make noise like a flock a turkeys." He turned and started walking down to the campsite, pausing to say to them, "You coming?"
Jack retrieved his weapon and Sophia picked up her satchel, wincing as the strap dug into her shoulder.
"Here, give me that."
"Do you need your hands free for the rifle?" she said.
"Reuben will hear anything long before I do. If we don't follow him he might shoot us anyway, so let's see what he has to say."
"Is this the same Reuben who saved your life and gave you a banjo? I thought he was your friend!"
"So did I," Jack said thoughtfully. "But when you start out as a slave and then find freedom with the Seminole—I don't imagine it's inclined him any more toward whites."
They followed Reuben Factor, and Jack reflected on how the man who'd taken to sailing on a privateer now was the complete Indian, from his brown calico shirt to his buckskin leggings, silver earrings dangling from underneath his hair. Some blacks were slaves to the Seminole but lived more as vassals than the degrading way they lived under white slave owners. Some blacks were free, like Reuben, and lived and worked among the Indians as equals and members of the tribe. It was no wonder slaves in the United States dreamed of fleeing south to freedom, or at least a freer life, across the Florida border.
The Bride and the Buccaneer Page 20