Vines draped and curtained the doorway, beckoning him to enter. Crushed shelled pathways led the way to curve and swirl among the plantings. Tropical flowers he couldn’t begin to identify cast their sweet scent into the air. Lanterns had already been lit to combat the approaching darkness. Their light caught in a series of round pools and tumbling water. Its source hidden by smooth barked palms. A natural stream perhaps?
Jun sat looking impossibly beautiful strumming a lute of some sort. Her eyes closed, she held the instrument upright in her lap. The long shining curtain of her hair concealing a portion of her face as she plucked at the strings.
There were few times in Will’s life that he’d wished he was anything more than he was, but if he could hear the world for a single moment… He stood in the growing shadows and longed for that moment to be now.
Jun opened her eyes and grinned before putting the instrument to one side and standing. She wore a silk gown in pinks and golds. Embroidered birds in silver and gold thread captured the light. Will couldn’t remember a time when he had seen anything so lovely.
As much as Jun dominated the harsh and brutal world beyond these cloistered walls, she embodied the exquisite beauty of these gardens as well. How could one woman have such diametrically opposite sides? Will admired and respected Jun’s role of pirate empress. The sheer number of her fleet rivaled many countries.
And yet, the other facet—the gentle refined elegance of her caught him so completely by surprise, it took him a moment to process it. It was as if there were two distinct women separated by a single, narrow door.
Dark eyes held his. Fingers of seduction wrapped around him. He could picture her stripped of the last bit of the world beyond this haven and pulling her naked body to his. Laying her amongst the plants. Forgetting anything else existed, save them.
Jun was speaking. Walking toward him. A wave of pure lust threatened to capsize him. When she placed a delicate hand on his arm, he could do nothing but stare at the gentle taper of her fingers.
Then she swept a hand indicating a small, low table, which had been tucked into one of the garden’s fern-created alcoves. Two fat cushions flanked the table full of an abundance of various foods. Bright fruits piled high alongside bowls of pink shrimp. Roasted meats mixed with an array of vegetables sat in rings of rice and noodles. It was a feast.
Jun motioned for him to sit. Will folded his long legs and lowered himself on to one of the cushions. She pulled the second pillowed tuft close and kneeled herself. All the while her mouth moved as she spoke silent words to him. It mattered little what she was saying. He was completely bewitched.
Pouring a clear liquid into a tiny, delicate china cup, she handed it to him before pouring another for herself. Looking at him with her dark imploring eyes, she tapped the rim of her cup to his and nodded that he should drink.
The wine was warm, potent, yet unlike the dark rum he was used to, this drink slipped like satin down his throat. He wondered what it was as Jun refilled their cups.
Jun looked to his side, then gave a quick frown. Looking at him, she gestured writing. Will lifted a shoulder and shook his head. He hadn’t brought along the slate. Without it, he’d not have to answer any questions—or avoid any—that might incriminate him. Dinner would be dinner, not an inquisition. As the wine lit a warming path through his limbs, Will was confident they’d manage without it.
He began to relax. Not having the slate put him at the advantage, as well. Reading people was a honed skill, he’d been doing it all his life. And Jun was easy to read when she was like this. As if coming through that door had also pulled back a curtain. This was the true Jian Jun. Surprising as the beauty of these surroundings was, it gave him another layer of knowledge about her. The armor she wore during the day not only covered and protected her body. It also hid much of her emotions. But here in this garden, she’d lowered the shield enough to let him glimpse inside the fortress she had so expertly built for herself, to find the essence of the woman.
As Jun offered him food from the banquet before him, he wondered how many she had allowed into her personal sanctuary. He noted the tiniest of tremors in her hand as she filled his plate. He smiled. Her nerves gave her away. Entertaining men in her garden was not a common occurrence.
Will signed ‘Thank you,’ and waited until she settled with her own food to begin eating. The aroma of the food made his mouth water. Over the last few days, he’d eaten little. His belly had begun to protest.
Jun lifted two long, jade sticks from the table and used them to bring a tidbit of food to her mouth. He’d seen this method of eating before, but had never been called to use it himself. Without his knife, however, short of using his hands like a barbarian, the twin lengths of jade were his only option.
He held both sticks in his hand and watched her for a moment before attempting the maneuver himself. Looked simple enough. You merely pinched the food with the jade and held it while bringing it to your mouth. Easy. After several fumbled attempts, however, he set the blasted things aside in frustration before his anger got the better of him and forced him to snap the thin lengths of jade in half. Was this an eastern form of torture? His belly mumbled its displeasure.
If he couldn’t eat, he could certainly lift his glass. He poured himself more wine before meeting Jun’s questioning glance. Jun set aside her own utensils before sliding closer to him and picking up his. Lifting her hand, she set one of the sticks in the crook between her first finger and her thumb and showed him how the second length of jade moved against the first. To demonstrate she picked up a tender bit of beef and fed it to him.
The intimacy of that simple act sent a different hunger through Will. He held Jun’s gaze as he savored the rich flavor of the meat and unique spices until she broke the heated connection to watch his throat work.
She was so close. Kissably close. To hell with the food, there was only one thing he was desperate to taste. Will took the jade sticks from her hand and once again set them aside. Jun followed his every move before returning the warmth of her gaze to his.
Will ran the tip of his finger along the smooth line of her jaw before catching the tip of her chin and lifting her face up to meet his. Moving to within a hair’s breadth between them, Will caught a low movement in the ferns behind Jun.
Cursing his lack of weapon for the twentieth time today, he surged to one side, roughly pulling Jun behind him. He snatched the jade from the table and held it aloft like a pick. It wouldn’t kill her attacker, but it would stop them long enough to get her away.
Jun scrambled to her feet behind him. He held his other arm wide to block her. Keeping her safely behind him until she slipped beneath his arm. She pushed one hand to the middle of his chest and gave a shove to stop him while she grasped her other hand around his wrist, holding his arm high.
He pulled his arm out of her hold. What the bloody hell are you doing? Damn it woman, I’m trying to defend you.
Will then saw a child emerge from beneath the planting. Wide eyed and mischievous, she peered at him behind a tangle of dark curls. He retreated in an instant. His heart fisting blood through his veins. The rush of adrenaline flooding him screeched into reverse. Will dropped the jade to the table as if it scorched his fingers.
Jun caught the child by the scruff of her neck as the imp tried to scoot by and shook an angry finger at the young girl’s nose. She pointed sternly toward the outer rooms and sent the child on her way with a firm tap to her behind. The girl rushed a few paces then stopped to look back at them with a clever smile. Jun frowned at her and pointed again.
Ting appeared out of nowhere and scooped the little one into her arms. Fussing and bowing, she rushed the child away.
Will’s breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal, but his thoughts raced like a gale. Who was that? Was she Jun’s daughter? Maybe that was the reason for the marked difference in Jun’s character. On one side of the door she
was a warrior, on the other a mother. Did the child explain her drive to build her vast empire? And more importantly, did it alter the way he was feeling about her? Children were a rarity in his life. They were landlocked bits of a future he never considered. He wasn’t sure he’d consider them now.
Will’s gaze traveled over Jun’s body again. If the child belonged to her, what would it matter? Damn it. He wished to hell he had the writing slate now.
Chapter 11
Jun turned and shook her head, holding a steadying hand to her throat. She didn’t know which had thrown her off balance more. Qi scaring the wits out of both of them, or coming so close to kissing Will. Both were making her heart flutter like a bird trapped in her chest.
Will still stood next to the table. In his gallant rush to put her behind him, half their dinner now littered the ground and their seats. Standing with his hands on his hips, the cross-over of his shirt bowed open. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the rise and fall of his strong chest.
“I’m sorry.” Jun held her arms wide, before looking away. She indicated Qi and Ting’s path. “Qi is s a handful at times, but she has a loving heart.” Why was she talking? To hear herself? Jun bit her lip to cease her rambling.
When she looked back at him, Will pointed at the path, as well, then back to her in question. He held his arms as if he cradled a baby, and gestured toward her again. Did he think Qi was her child?
Jun shook her head and waved her hands in front of her. “No, she is not mine.”
Will nodded that he understood. She couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed somehow.
A familiar twinge pricked at her heart. Not that she didn’t love Qi like her own. She and Fu had always planned to have children one day. During the first years of their marriage, Jun had made sure she took precautions to prevent an untimely pregnancy. She’d been trained well at the Painted Palace, after all. What she couldn’t prevent, however, was her husband’s untimely death. More than losing Fu, she had lost the dream of having children together. It was one of the reasons Qi had become so dear to her. How did she begin to explain all that to Will with simple hand gestures and nods of her head? Damn it, she wished to hell she had the writing slate.
Jun straightened her dress and finished composing herself. As much as she longed to turn the clock back to those tender moments before Will had thought they were being ambushed, perhaps fate had been the one to save her.
She hadn’t been thinking clearly all day. Her body’s neglected passions were betraying her with its waves of ridiculous desires. It wasn’t like her to lose control. Not over a man. No matter how handsome Captain Quinn might be. And she was above using seduction to get her the information she wanted from him. Given her years of thievery and pillaging, it was odd, but Jun wanted him to trust her.
Will bent and started to clear up the mess littering the flat stones paving the archway. Jun rushed to stop him. “No, please… You needn’t do that.” She tugged on his arm until he straightened. Looking over the table, she hoped to salvage their evening until Will used the tip of his finger to once more turn her face toward him.
He wore such a serious look. Giving her a short bow, he then stood tall, placed a fist over his heart and made a small circle. Jun was at a loss as to what that meant, but before she could figure it out, he turned and left the garden.
“Wait,” Jun called after his retreating back. “You’re yelling at a deaf man, you idiot,” she scolded herself. “Wait…” she whispered. Exasperated she sat and kicked at the spoiled food. “Damn.”
* * * *
Will moved through the dim corridors and returned to the sweltering sanctuary of his paper-walled room. He slid the door closed behind him. If ever he truly needed the satisfaction of feeling a door slam into its framing, this would have been it. The gentle slide of the paper door made him consider putting his fist through the delicate painted panel.
What the hell had he been thinking? A refined dinner with a beautiful, desirable woman? He could capture a ship and strip her of every last bit of bounty in less time than it took for him to make a complete and utter fool out of himself tonight.
There was a reason he didn’t tarry with women. Spend time in their company for anything other than a few hours of hedonistic sexual play? Impossible. He was a bloody pirate, not some refined gentleman with lace and ruffles. Even if he could speak words aloud, he didn’t know the first thing about polite chatter.
Will lifted the forgotten slate from where he had strategically left it. Truth be told it wasn’t interrogation he was leery of, it was the bloody pleasantries. Pure syrupy puke. Oh my dearest, what a lovely shade of blue you’re wearing. It reminds me of the color of a dead man’s face. And dinner is delicious. Have you ever tried roasted bilge rat? Will tossed the slate back on the bed in anger. Shite and piddle!
And the child… Bloody hell, he could have killed the child with a blasted stick? There was one thing to be thankful about for not having his weapons. Had he been wearing a blade, he would have slashed through the foliage and killed that wee babe before he even saw her.
Will dropped to the edge of his bed and ran a weary hand over his eyes. What the bloody hell was he thinking? That he was going to seduce a woman like Jian Jun? She was hardly some lusty pepper merchant’s daughter. She was bloody Jian Jun.
And yet, she had him under her spell. Luring him into her exotic net. Feeding him delicious food, plying him with strong wine. How else do you explain the flash of disappointment at learning that child was not hers? When had he ever wanted children? Where did that thought even come from? He was a fucking pirate!
And she was off-with-his-head, hang-him-by-his-nuts Jian Jun! One glimpse of pale breast and he’d lost his mind.
He stood and began to pace and scraped a hand over his face. Truth was, he hadn’t thought clearly since he hit the blasted water during the storm. He had to get off this island before he did something he’d truly regret. After tonight’s fiasco, the sooner the better. Back to the sea where he didn’t feel like a fish flapping on the damn beach.
Speaking of beach, Will stopped his pacing and glanced toward the hank of bright red that had once been the proud sail of the Scarlet Night. He crossed the room and felt its edge. Almost dry. He needed to finish this. It was time. He’d put off his duty long enough.
Pulling the piece to the floor he retrieved the ink and quill from the table near his bed. The nib of the quill caught on the coarse weave of the canvas as he began to write, and the black of the ink spread in an ugly blot after each dip, but it mattered little. What mattered was that he remembered each and every name of his crew and added it to the cloth. All forty-three names.
Fm. Captain, Alice Louise Tupper Quinn, First Mate, Richard Griffin, Helmsman, Oliver Hills, Quartermaster, Alfred Higgins…
One after another he added each name to the fabric of the sail until they filled the space. He could see each face in his memory.
Later he’d repeat the same list when he made the final entry in the ship’s log. He pulled the books from their hiding place and ran his fingers over the silvered corners before tucking them away again. Will checked the log box under the bed. No one had disturbed it.
With no lock on the door, he’d be daft to leave his logs in a box with no workable hasp. Instead, he moved the incriminating log books into the straw padding of the mattress and filled the box with stones.
It wasn’t a perfect solution. However, he’d learned a few tricks over the years. Strategically placed bits of thread. A strand of hair set across a door frame. Invisible ways of knowing straight away if someone had entered a room before him, picked a certain lock. Rummaged through his belongings. A pre-warning of sorts that had saved his neck on more than one occasion.
Will set his pre-warnings again as he left his room for the second time that night. With the square of sail folded under his arm, he made his way through the
empty corridors. He’d memorized the safest way out of the grand palace earlier in the day and soon was skirting the village and making his way to the north beach once again.
The tide was high, but heading out. Will waded into the warm dark waters, soaking him to mid-thigh. Unfolding the sail, he laid it on top of the waves. A waning moon gave enough light to see the waters take hold of the canvas, seeping once more into each strand. Darkening the red to the color of blood before the pull of the waves plucked it from his fingers and carried it from him.
He pulled a deep breath into his lungs as he watched it float away. In his mind, Will said the final words necessary to honor his lost crew:
I, William Quinn, being the Captain and sole survivor of the proud ship known to us as the Scarlet Night do commit the bodies of these forty-three souls to the deep until the day of the resurrection when the sea shall give up her dead and we shall sail together once again.
Will stood there a long time. Long after the sail had been pulled under the surface of the water. Lost to his memories. Numb in a hailstorm of brutal emotions. Would he ever be rid of this burning sense of guilt and grief?
He ran a thumb over the face of Tupper’s ring and twisted it on his finger. Damn it, he could use a stiff drink, or five, or twenty, but without a coin to his name, that wasn’t going to happen. All he had was this ring. His thumb worried the hole in the gold. One day soon, he vowed to replace its lost pearl.
Once he got back to being a proper captain, of course, doing what he did best. Standing at the helm of his own ship, spurring his crew into battle, swinging his cutlass, ordering the guns to fire, filling his coffers. He could still smell the sulfur bite of cannon smoke and the tang of blood in the air. Feel the powerful ride of the ship beneath his boots, and the vibration of the rigging as the Scarlet Night raced along the tips of the waves. What he missed most was the first breath. Like a babe being born. The pull of pure air into your lungs after leaving the docks and harbors behind with the bow of the ship leading you into open water. That first glorious breath of clean sea air. He would stand with Tupper in the bow…
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