"His wife would carve out your liver and serve it to you raw for supper."
"It was just a thought."
She settled down in her own husband's arms, attempting to ignore the noises from the other lean-to.
Jack whispered in her ear, "They're used to living with other people in close quarters. And he's been away from her for months."
Sophia sighed. "I understand. I suppose I am just feeling a little..."
"Frustrated?"
"I was going to say 'envious.'"
Jack said nothing to this for a few moments and just before Sophia fell asleep, worn out by the day's travels, she heard him say something,
but she couldn't tell if he said, "We could have that" or not.
* * *
A red and sullen sky greeted the travelers, and the two couples ate breakfast in a hurry, with Jack and Reuben agreeing a storm was coming. Reuben wanted to get Betsy back to camp as quickly as he could, but first they had to take care of business.
"I had these papers drawn up in St. Augustine, Reuben," Jack said. "I'll give a copy to you, and I'll keep a copy, just to make sure there are no questions."
Sophia peeked around Jack's shoulder. The papers were a bill of sale, transferring ownership of the maroon slave, Betsy, from John Burrell to Reuben Factor. Reuben passed Jack an American dollar as payment.
"Jack! You can't sell him his own wife!"
"He has to do it this way, missus," Betsy said. "If someone think I'm a runaway, it goes worse for me than if Reuben own me."
"And we need to do this now," Jack said. "The Spanish will let Reuben own Betsy and free her later, but there's no telling what will happen when the Americans come in."
They completed the transaction and Jack shook Reuben's hand.
"We square now, Cap'n. I wish you luck finding Garvey's Gold."
"Garvey? He that old sea captain travel 'round here?"
They all looked at Betsy.
"What do you know about Captain Garvey, Betsy?" Jack said.
"When I was little my mama told me there was a pirate named Garvey, came here many years ago, up the river with other pirates. They bought food from the Indians and camped here before moving back on the water. They left this in the tree."
She headed toward the orange grove planted by the Spanish, the others trooping behind "Look here, Cap'n."
She pointed to a scrubby longleaf pine growing at the edge of the grove, and Sophia saw a glint of metal up where Betsy told Jack to look.
"Jack? What it is?"
"It's a ring, a brass ring, 'bout the size of a silver dollar."
"It hollow, Cap'n. My brother picked me up when I was little and I looked through it and could see all the way through the tree trunk. Been here for a long time, got higher as the tree grew. Maybe it show you where your gold is." Betsy smiled as she said the last, but Jack wasn't laughing. Betsy didn't know they already had proof the treasure existed.
"I wish I could stay to help you, but I got to be movin' on," Reuben said.
"Before you leave, I would appreciate a hand getting the gear from the boat."
"I can do that," Reuben said, and the two men headed down to the river while the women packed up the Indians' gear.
Sophia watched Jack until he disappeared over the rise of the bluff. When she turned around, Betsy was looking at her, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"You ain't my mistress so I can talk to you as I please and say my piece. You a damn fool if you let a man like Cap'n Jack slip through your fingers."
"Things between us are...complicated," Sophia said. "You do not know us."
"I know this much," Betsy said. "I know a good man when I meet him. Man like Cap'n Jack don't come along every day, don't matter what color he is—black, white, or red."
"There's more to life than finding the right man, Betsy Factor!"
"That so? You think you going to find pirate treasure, then what? You and Cap'n Jack each take some gold and say good-bye, you think you going to be happy like that? That gold won't kiss you good morning or sleep beside you at night. And you be happy knowing some other lady—smarter than you—going to see a fine man like Cap'n Jack, you think she going to just let him slip out the door? I don't think so. They going to be on him like a bear on a honey tree."
"What makes you think I would leave Captain Burrell?"
"I hear you two talking in St. Augustine. And anyone can see there's trouble between you two. I ain't blind or stupid. And I give
good advice, missus. Goes with being stubborn."
Sophia had to smile. She would miss Betsy when she and Reuben took off, but Sophia was also anxious to examine the tube in the tree and see what secrets it might reveal.
The men returned with ropes, pick-axes, shovels, and the other gear Jack had packed, not knowing what to expect.
Sophia watched the men dump the gear at the edge of the grove. Reuben was eyeing her skeptically.
"You expect that little bitty thing to haul this gear back to your boat, Cap'n Jack?"
"If she's worth a deer, she can haul and earn her keep."
"I heard that!"
Reuben surprised them by returning with a rough-coated horse he'd had hidden in the trees. He loaded Betsy on the back of the animal along with their gear and taking the lead, started off through the woods without a glance back at his former captain.
But Betsy twisted from where she sat bareback on the horse and called out, "You remember what I say, missus! Good men don't grow on trees like persimmons!"
"What was Betsy saying?"
"Nothing important. I think her wounds are making her delusional." She was feeling energized at the thought of finding a possible link to the lock their key fit. She ran over to the pine tree.
"Lift me up, Jack. I want a closer look!"
"This would be more exciting if you were wearing skirts and not trousers."
"Jack, pay attention! We need to focus on finding the treasure!"
"Of course." He sighed. He picked her up and hoisted her into the air until she was able to maneuver herself to sit on his shoulders, with a muttered apology for poking him in the eye. Unlike the oak, there were no branches low enough for Sophia to cling to, so she steadied herself against the pine, leaning down to peer into the brass ring.
"It is hollow, Jack. Through this side, I can see one wall of the mission. Let me down and I'll look through the other side."
"Grab hold of that branch above you and I'll duck down, then you can drop and I'll catch you."
Sophia grabbed onto the branch, the sticky pine sap covering her palms, and Jack ducked down and Sophia released the branch. There was an exciting moment of flight, and then she was in his arms, her arm around his neck for support and him holding her against him.
"I'm glad you caught me," she said breathlessly.
"Caught you, but can I keep you?"
"Treasure first, Jack."
"Of course."
Sophia ran to the other side of the tree and impatiently hopped from foot to foot, waiting for Jack. They repeated the maneuver looking through the tree.
"On this side it's just orange trees at the back of the grove," Sophia said, disappointed.
"Were you expecting a large sign saying 'Treasure Here'?"
"It would have been nice."
Back with both feet on the ground they planned their strategy.
"I say we dig around the mission wall, where the tube pointed. It makes sense the treasure would be at the base of the wall, or in the wall," Sophia said.
"Are you sure the map wasn't more specific as to the location?" Jack said in frustration.
"It only showed this general vicinity. Captain Garvey purposely left it vague. But Jack, we have come this far, I have to believe we are on the right track." She looked at the wall and pointed. "You see where that vine is snaking up the wall, the vine with the purple flower? That is what I saw when I looked through the tube. We should start searching there."
He handed her a shovel
and they began to dig, and as the afternoon wore on and the heat rose, so did tempers. The allure of treasure was one thing. The actual back-breaking work of digging in the hot sun, sweat pouring off her body and blisters rising on her hands was another. But Sophia didn't give up, and if the occasional raw word slipped out, it was only to be expected. She wiped her hand across her wet face, not caring she left dirt and sand in its wake. Thunder rumbled to the west and a breeze sprang up, whipping the tree branches. Sophia paused to let the cooler air flow across her.
"We have to stop, it's going to rain."
"We cannot stop yet, Jack, there is still daylight!"
"Sophia, I am not going to stand here and get soaked—"
His sentence was punctuated with the plop! of a large drop of water at his feet. A moment later one hit Sophia on the nose, and then in the next instant while she looked at Jack, the sky opened and the squall came down in torrents, soaking them where they stood.
Sophia turned to run for the less than adequate shelter of their lean-to.
Jack grabbed her hand and raised his voice over the pounding of the water falling on them. "Wait!"
"Why?" she yelled back, blinking rain out of her eyes.
"'Cause it feels good," he said with a soggy grin.
Sophia thought he'd lost his mind, then realized it did feel good. The rain was cool, but not so cold as to chill them to the bone, and after sweating all day it sluiced the dirt and water off of them, plastering the clothes to their skin and Jack's hair to his head. She pushed the hair off his forehead but it was useless, for it just got saturated again a moment later. She knew she was grinning back at him and didn't care. She could see sunlight behind him, shining through the rain sheeting down, sparkling through the water drops and thought it was one of the prettiest sights she'd ever seen, next to Lucky Jack's changeable eyes.
The rain stopped, just as abruptly as it began, and the clouds grumbled and moved out toward the river.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
She laughed and the sound startled her. She almost never laughed. It was Jack. He made her laugh, and she had fun with him. When was the last time she really had a good time, and laughter?
The answer was, not in a long, long time. She could almost hear Betsy Factor whispering in her ear: "A gal could do worse than a man who make her laugh. "
"I like your eyes," she said abruptly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your eyes change color. When we are on the water, they look green. When we are in the woods, they look golden brown. My eyes never change. They are always the same washed out color."
"Now, that's where you're wrong, little cat. Do you walk around with a hand mirror checking out your eyes?" He grinned again, a different smile, as a trickle of the water traced a path down his neck beneath the collar of the shirt sticking to his skin, so soaked it was almost transparent. She could see the shadow of his nipple through the wet cotton, and licked her lips, tasting the sweet rainwater that lingered there. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue and they changed color again, darkening to a shade that held hints of the forest behind them, amber and emerald ringing an onyx center.
"Your eyes are changing now," she said.
"Are they?" He moved in closer. "Could be because they're looking at your breasts, standing up through your wet clothing? Your shirt is so
wet it I can see right through it, even see a blue vein throbbing, here."
He put his hand on her and traced a line, the wet fabric slicking against her skin.
"It's faint, but it leads like a map line to a treasure." He circled her nipple with the tip of his finger, and she gasped and resisted rising up on her toes to increase the pressure. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and felt the muscles beneath her hand flexing as his hand moved.
"A treasure of'—he paused for a moment, his finger lightly flicking the hard little bump before he smiled at her—"...raspberries."
"Not watermelons?" she asked throatily.
"Definitely not watermelons." He cupped her breast in the palm of his hand. "Persimmons, maybe. Delicate and tart, too tart if you don't know what you're doing, but if you wait, they become sweet and juicy."
The heat of his hand warmed her through her wet clothing, and she closed her eyes against the glare of the sun behind him, shining off all the wet leaves, shining off his wet hair, shining through the haze that enveloped her as his hand continued to explore her through her rain dampened clothing. She opened her eyes again and saw a drop of water fall off his earlobe onto his shoulder, and she wished she was taller so she could rise up and lick that water off his ear.
"I know how to make your eyes change color," he said.
"You do?"
"Yes, I do. It happens all the time when I do this," he said, taking her nipple between his finger and thumb and squeezing it until it was just on this side of pain, but the pleasure that arced through her body didn't feel like pain at all, and all the time he was watching her intently.
"Oh yes, little cat, now your eyes are halfway there," he said. A stray cloud, a remnant of the storm blocked the sun behind him and he looked down at her and said, "Darker yet, but I think I can get your eyes all the way to black if I do this."
He lifted her against him, and she rose in a familiar motion, wrapping her wet legs around his hips, her wet trousers rubbing up against her, water trickling off her to the ground, but she knew the slick wetness between her legs had nothing to do with the rain, and everything to do with Lucky Jack Burrell.
He held her as he always did, effortlessly, cradling her against him, one hand beneath her hips as her arms rose around his neck, making her feel safe and cherished in a way no one else did, that no one else ever had. Only this privateer turned highwayman turned treasure hunter had the gift of making her feel like she mattered to someone.
"I can make your eyes appear nearly black," he said.
"How?"
"Like this."
He angled his head and put his mouth on hers, softly stroking the seam of her lips until she parted them and welcomed him in, taking his tongue, tasting him, feeling the languid honey flow of her blood as it rushed from her head and her thoughts of how she needed to distance herself from Lucky Jack, blood rushing to other parts that needed it more, parts that were feeling swollen and aching for Jack's strong hands and knowing ways.
He broke the kiss and looked down at her, his own eyes half lidded and smoldering with desire.
"Are they dark?" she whispered huskily.
He studied her. "Not nearly enough yet. You need more kissing."
He rearranged his arms to carry her over to their gear, pausing along the way to kiss her again like he couldn't get enough of her, that if he released her she would run away.
When they reached the campsite he set her on her own feet, and Sophia looked at their gear in bemusement.
"It is dry. It did not rain here."
Jack was already involved in the more urgent task of unrolling his bedding and removing his boots, before he turned to pull her wet shirt off over her head.
"I've seen it rain where a house on one side of the street is soaked while the house across the street isn't touched. But I didn't bring you here to discuss the weather."
He leaned forward and put his mouth on her neck, kissing his way down the skin and accompanying his kisses with tiny bites that made her gasp.
They peeled out of their wet clothes, tossing them in a soggy heap onto the ground, and she shivered as the air hit her damp skin until Jack pulled her up against him, framing her face as he kissed her, and then motioned her down onto the ground.
"How can we do this without getting covered in dirt?"
"So practical." He sighed and seated himself on the bedding. "Come sit on my lap."
Sophia saw where this was leading and arranged herself. It was the first time she'd ever made love in the full sunlight and it entranced her, the way Jack's hair gleamed, how his changeable eyes were now black edge
d with gold, how she could see every muscle and sinew outlined in the clear day. His skin was slick with rain and sweat, and he glistened, the moisture outlining his muscles as if someone had oiled him so that she could enjoy every ripple across his frame.
He balanced her with his hands, strong and rough from their labors, and the feel of his calloused palms across the soft flesh of her bottom sent shivers down her spine. She looked down, and took hold of the shaft that was glistening with its own moisture at the tip, not from the rain but from his anticipation of having her.
"I never realized how small my hands are."
He snorted a laugh.
"No, sweetheart, you're supposed to say, 'La, sir! What a monstrous engine of delight!', realizing it's not that your hands are small, but that my cock is so large!"
"If you say so," she said, but he caught the smile in her voice, and leaned forward to kiss her.
When he raised his head, his own darkened eyes only inches from hers, she said, "Are my eyes dark?"
"Oh yes," he murmured, "they tell me you're ready for the next step," and he easily lifted her onto him, fitting her to him and filling her.
Sophia gasped into his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his back, her thighs spread open across his strong legs. In this position he felt very large indeed, his "monstrous engine of delight" stretching her, almost to the point where it was unbearable. It was more than bearable though when he began to move her, up and down, swelling inside her as the sunlight dried the air and the light shone about them with a clarity that brought his face into sharp focus, the muscles of his neck standing out like the lush vines twining over the land. Sophia held onto him, and watched him, her own eyes half-lidded, and she forgot to think about Captain Garvey's golden treasure at all, only thinking about
the golden man cradling her in his arms.
* * *
That night they ate corn growing wild at the mission, the small ears roasted in the fire. Earlier Jack had put salt pork in a pot to cook with beans and potatoes and wild onions, and he brought out a bottle of rum he'd purchased from the Reavers.
"Would you like some rum, Sophia?"
The Bride and the Buccaneer Page 24