Reuben's campsite was as sparse up close as it appeared from the ridge, but there was a smell of cooking meat that made Jack hope the big man would share whatever he had with them.
"Something smells wonderful," Sophia said.
Reuben grunted and poked at a pit in the ground. Smoke rose up to delight the senses. "Pig. We eat, then we talk."
At those words, Jack relaxed. Reuben wouldn't invite them to share a meal if he meant to kill them.
Sophia was staying close at hand, watching Reuben as he worked around his campsite. Eventually she relaxed enough to ask if there was water, and Reuben directed them to a nearby creek and gave them a container to fill. Jack retrieved his rifle and accompanied her to the creekside where she made use of the concealing bushes, and washed while Jack fetched water for them.
Jack looked around the land. He understood why the Franciscans built their mission here, and why settlers from the north might find it as attractive as the Indians and Spanish did. Good water, close to the river, and a high piece of land made it attractive.
On the way back they passed trees planted by the long gone Spanish and picked some of the last of the season's oranges.
"Give me a hand with this, Cap'n," Reuben said.
Jack took one of the metal tools handed him and they hauled out the cooked piglet, steaming and succulent. Jack's stomach growled and he knew if he died tonight, at least he'd die well fed.
They were soon sitting cross-legged on the ground, sharing the pig, oranges, and biscuits left from their stay at the Reavers's homestead. There was no wine, but Reuben boiled some water for coffee. Jack took a cup, but coffee without cream and sugar was more primitive than Sophia cared for and she contented herself with the sweet water from the mission's well. They took their cue from their host and didn't engage in conversation, but concentrated instead on filling themselves.
It was getting toward sundown and a breeze sprang up from the west, cooling the day's heat as Jack waited patiently for Reuben to say what was on his mind.
"Rest of that pig goes with me to the camp," Reuben said.
"Are you far from here?"
"Near 'nough, Cap'n."
"You were out hunting? Is that what brought you here today?" Sophia asked.
Reuben looked at her, then tossed another branch on the fire. "Don't matter why I'm here today. Why you here?"
Sophia looked at Jack, and Jack cleared his throat. "We are on the trail of Garvey's Gold."
Reuben looked at Jack for a moment and blinked, then burst out laughing in a basso profundo that made Sophia jump where she was sitting, but Jack just sighed and took another sip of his coffee.
"No, really, Cap'n, what you doing out here?"
"I'm serious."
"Marriage make you crazy? There ain't no Garvey's Gold!"
Jack looked over at Sophia, whose eyes were narrowing into a look that boded trouble if he didn't step in and do something.
"Consider it a whim to make my bride happy on her wedding journey."
"Trip to Charleston be more fun for you," Reuben snickered. "But if that your story, fine by me."
Then he became serious and his eyes grew shadowed. "I got to call in my debt, Cap'n."
Jack just nodded. He had a feeling that was what Reuben was leading up to.
Reuben reached for his pack and rummaged in there, then pulled out a newspaper, creased and grimy from much handling. He passed it over to Jack.
Jack opened the paper and angled it so the firelight fell on it. It didn't take him long to find what he was supposed to see. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket before Sophia could read it.
"Doesn't give us much time," Jack said.
"Jack? What is it?" Sophia asked.
Jack ignored her and focused on the man across the fire from him.
"You the only one, Cap'n. You'll do it?"
"Of course," Jack said.
Tension drained out of the big man and his shoulders slumped.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Reuben packed up the pack and the remaining pig and easily slung the meat over his shoulder. "You come back here, Cap'n. I be waiting."
Jack said, "I won't let you down, Reuben."
The black man hesitated, then he stuck out his hand and clasped Jack's forearm, and Jack returned the grip, feeling the strength and tension in the other man's arm.
Reuben nodded once, looked at Sophia and said, "Missus," and then he turned and walked into the twilight gloom.
Jack watched him until he disappeared into the woods.
"Jack—"
"Not now, Sophia." He picked up the rifle. "I'm going back down to get our gear from the boat. We'll camp here tonight. You stay—
you'd just be in the way stumbling around in the dark."
"You are going to leave me here, alone?" Sophia looked around at the woods.
"I won't be gone any longer than it takes to travel to the boat and back. And I know you have your pistol on you. Just don't use it on me."
Jack looked over his shoulder and saw Sophia inch closer to the fire and throw another stick on. When he got to the boat he took their bedding and other gear for the night, but then stood at the water's edge, watching the river flow. A raccoon hunting for its supper among the cypress trees froze and looked at him, but apparently didn't consider him much of a threat and went back to its search for insects and other edibles.
Jack stood there, thinking about Reuben's situation, and what it cost him to have to turn to Jack for help. He sighed. It brought home to him why he couldn't go back to farming his family's land. No matter how much his mama told him it was his place as the eldest, he'd seen too much, traveled too far, to ever take up the reins of life as a Georgia farmer again.
With Garvey's Gold he could leave that behind and focus on shipping. He just had to make sure he lived long enough to get his share. He almost wished he was as ruthless as his dainty little wife. It would make life easier if he could dump her body over the side.
But that wasn't him, and it wasn't what he wanted. Not anymore. He looked back at where the campsite was over the ridge. He needed to keep coaxing his little cat, show her that staying with him, warm and
safe by his fireside, was better than roaming around, lost and alone.
* * *
Sophia poked at the fire. A nighthawk chirrupped as it hunted its supper, and she shivered, though it wasn't cold. While she did firmly believe she'd walk through hell to get her money, it didn't mean she had to like it, here where there were wild things that weren't on the other side of walls, doors, and windows.
And there were too many unknowns out there, like random Indians coming to call. She shivered again as she thought of how the massive black Seminole had snuck up on them so quietly. She was used to danger, of a sort, but it was a more civilized danger, one in a setting where she knew the rules and people—and animals—were more
predictable.
"Fifty thousand," she muttered to herself. One could buy a great deal of creature comforts with fifty thousand pounds. Dresses, carriages, investment property...she could travel. She did enjoy seeing new places and people, and travel to Paris or Venice, not the backwoods of Florida, held an appeal.
So why did it have even more appeal when she considered those locations with Lucky Jack Burrell beside her? She savagely poked the fire, sending sparks shooting into the air. The idea of being Lady Whitfield had appeal, she admitted to herself, for the doors it would open in England and for the return of her family's home.
The idea of Lord Whitfield putting his hands anywhere on her body held no appeal whatsoever.
But it wasn't just that. Eliminating the baron from her future was surely a prudent course of action, no matter what lures he dangled in front of her. What bothered her, what really bothered her, was she now wanted a future with Jack in it.
It wasn't just his lovemaking, though there was no denying he was skilled and made her body ache for release. No, it was that she was developing feeli
ngs for him. She liked seeing his face first thing in the morning and last thing at night, the way his mouth quirked up at the corner, how his eyes were sometimes gold, sometimes green, how he looked at her like she mattered to him.
The question was, how badly did she want that future? Badly enough to share the gold? Badly enough to tell him about Whitfield? Badly enough to let him walk away?
The snap of a breaking stick brought her hand to her gun, but it was Jack stepping into the light, and Sophia relaxed her tense shoulders.
"See any panthers while I was gone?"
"Panthers?" she squeaked.
"Large cat, about so high, sharp teeth and claws?" He held his hand up at about thigh height, or what would be substantially higher than thigh height on her body, bringing all kinds of soft, tender, vital parts into a panther's reach.
"There are panthers here?"
Jack settled himself next to her, then looked around into the dark.
"Panthers, bobcats, alligators...did I forget to mention the bloodsucking bats?"
"You are making up that last part!"
"You're right." He smiled at her. "Mosquitoes, but not bloodsucking bats. Just small bats. If you move any closer you're going to be in my lap."
"Hmph," Sophia said. "Likely that was your plan all along, Captain Burrell, to lure me closer with tales of wild creatures."
"Looks like it worked," he said, putting his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.
They sat in silence while crickets and frogs filled the night with their own sounds, and then with a sigh, Jack prepared their bedrolls near the fire. It was a dry night and he didn't bother erecting a shelter but placed their bedding side by side and then lay down.
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"What does Reuben want you to do?"
Jack was silent and Sophia waited.
"I will tell you in the morning, Sophia."
"Jack—"
"Go to sleep."
She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew an explosion of cawing with a barking finish brought her sitting straight up.
"What was that?"
"Owl. Go back to sleep."
"An owl? Owls don't sound like that, they make a 'hoot' sound. I have heard owls in England! That sounds like a wild, monster dog in the trees!"
"It's an owl. Do not let your imagination run away with you."
"How do you know it is not a panther?"
Jack sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Sophia, I have heard panthers and I have heard owls. That is an owl. You insisted I accompany you on this lunatic treasure hunt because I know the land. I know a hawk from a handsaw and an owl from a panther. Now, go to sleep!"
"Do not blame me if we are nothing but bones by morning," Sophia grumbled, but she lay down beside him again, snuggling closer. He rolled over and fitted himself to her, spoon fashion.
After a few moments she said, "You are not asleep."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you are not. You are poking me from behind."
"I can do that in my sleep."
Something made a sound, a high-pitched bark. It didn't sound like it
was coming from Jack, behind her.
"What was that?"
"Panther—No, don't jump up!" Jack rolled over on top of her, pushing her down on her belly as he scanned the darkness surrounding the little campsite. Sophia could feel him atop her, every inch of him hard and ready. She frowned to herself. If they were in imminent danger, would he be aroused?
The minutes ticked by in silence. Sophia could hear the night sounds, the insects and, farther in the woods, an owl that hooted like an owl was supposed to hoot. While her ears strained for any more noises that could be cause by large toothed cats, Jack's hand was not on his weapon—either of them—but was on her backside, his fingers stroking beneath her shirt and her trousers.
"Jack—"
"Shhhh..." he breathed into her ear. "We don't want to attract attention. You must be very, very quiet. ..no matter what."
She ignored this, but looked over her shoulder at him.
"There is no panther! You are just saying that to get inside my pants. I can feel—get your fingers off my buttons!"
He looked down at her and she could not see his expression as his face was shadowed from the fire behind them, but she swore there was an all too familiar gleam in his eye.
"You're right, that was another owl. I can tell I am not going to get any sleep tonight unless I distract you, Sophia. You don't think about panthers when I touch you here, do you?"
He punctuated his question by slipping his fingers inside her now unbuttoned trousers, stroking the soft flesh inside the placket. She could feel his hand, calloused and muscled, parting her damp curls and moving lightly across her swollen folds.
"But what about the...oh!.. .panthers?"
She looked over her shoulder again and saw the gleam of his teeth in the firelight. He positioned her on her hands and knees, and moved himself behind her, clasping her to him with his arm across her midriff.
"Now, you watch for panthers, Sophia. If you see any, you be sure to call out."
His voice dropped and took on that husky timbre that acted like a feather stroking across her nerves, tingling and exciting her, knowing how she affected him.
"I cannot believe you are doing this when wild animals could attack at any moment!" She would have said more, but her words trailed off in a moan as Jack caressed her breasts from beneath, pulling up on her shirt until it was bunched under her arms and around her neck. She wore no undergarments and he made a noise of approval when he discovered she was bare and there would be less work for him.
"Your front is delightful, but your back has a certain charm—no, don't look over at me, keep watching for panthers. I will let you know what I'm doing."
He demonstrated this by licking his way down her back, from the nape of her neck down past the shirt, outlining the vertebrae of her spine. It was a sensation that made her arch her back, the combination of heat from his mouth and the air cooling where he licked, sending a shiver down that spine he was caressing with his tongue. She had never thought of her back as an especially sensitive spot, but his agile tongue demonstrated otherwise, as his fingers explored her in front.
"Not being able to get to those pert little breasts with my mouth presents me with an opportunity to explore other territory."
She really didn't know how he could carry on a conversation while he was exploring her. For her part, all Sophia felt capable of at the moment was the occasional moan, a quick intake of breath and wiggling when he found a particularly sensitive area.
She thought she knew all she needed to know about relations between men and women. That it was intimate, and brought people closer, and sometimes there would be a delightful sensation of completion at the end.
Now she knew she'd known very little, that it took Lucky Jack Burrell to teach her how a man's hands—this man's hands—roaming on her body could bring her alive and fill her with a burning longing she couldn't satisfy on her own.
And it scared her to think he might be the only man who could satisfy that longing deep within her core, that he'd become the only man who could rouse her body to a climax so complete she felt as limp and boneless and light as a feather-stuffed pillow.
He lowered his head to kiss her at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she inhaled his scent, the clean pine woods and man smell of him. The tips of his hair brushed across her neck, coaxing her to feel more, deepening the way her senses came alive to everything going on, the slight breeze drifting through the clearing, the smell of the fire and the glow of the stars filling the sky over their heads.
"Can you feel how much I want you, Sophia, how much I need to be inside you?" he asked throatily. He pulled her back against him and she felt him, freed from the confinement of his breeches, and then he was sliding between her still clothed legs, pushing the material up against her swollen folds, giving her stimulati
on, but only a simulation of what it would be when there was nothing separating them, and he whispered that in her ear, using graphic language that made her gasp as it aroused her.
She wiggled against him and the hand that was now cupping her breast squeezed, but if that was supposed to be a warning to stop, it didn't serve its purpose. It made her want to rub herself against him again, and rub her legs together to ease the tension building there.
"Jack—" she whispered fiercely.
He put his mouth right next to her ear.
"If you don't want to rouse the panthers out in the woods, you should be very still and very quiet," he whispered back.
There was a rustling sound in the trees ahead of them and Sophia froze, but Jack seized the opportunity to pull on her trousers, yanking them down to her ankles. She felt a draft on her exposed bottom as Jack anchored her to the ground by leaning his body against hers, the hand holding her breast also keeping her tight against him. She tried to squirm away but he brought his other hand around to cup her mound and she was trapped, held up against him by the hands holding her, the body behind her rocking lightly against her. Now she no longer wanted to move away from him, but wanted to feel him against her, inside her, filling her.
Jack obliged. He was kissing her neck, small bites that nipped at her, softer and lighter than a hummingbird sipping nectar while he continued to caress her.
"When I'm inside you," he breathed into her ear, "you're going to want to scream. Better not do that, sweetheart. We don't want to spook the panthers. You're not going to move," he ordered, "no matter what, you're going to stay still."
She would have protested this high-handed treatment except he was moving his hand off her breast and covering her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and licked at him, his palm, up and down his salty fingers, and she heard him groan behind her, which brought a smile to her lips, one she knew he could feel behind his palm.
"You'll pay for that, witch!" he growled, and she felt him yanking at his trousers, his hand brushing against her, then he was lifting her leg and probing at her entrance from behind. Her breathing speeded up and she was panting lightly behind the hand covering her mouth, muffling the small sounds she made as he eased himself in, just as quietly and slowly as he could, not making a sound, not even when her hand grabbed the hand at her belly and gripped it convulsively, feeling the hard sinews and muscled warmth.
The Bride and the Buccaneer Page 21