A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix)

by ML Guida

  Kane winked at her. She half smiled at him, but couldn’t ease the ache inside. The meal ended too quickly.

  Kane rose and held his hand out for her. She took it, and he led her up to the main deck. Strength emitted from him. She wished she possessed his same confidence

  Up on deck, she blinked at the blinding sun. Kane released her hand and cold seized her hand where warmth had been. He walked over to Sean who stood by the wheel. “Mallory, lower the longboat.”

  “Aye, aye, Capt’n,” Sean answered. “Mates, lower the boat.”

  This was it. She was going ashore.

  Men ran past her to carry out Kane’s orders. She walked over to the railing and gripped it, wanting to stay aboard. She stared at the eagle’s nest, wishing she could crawl up the ropes and hide in there until the Soaring Phoenix sailed away.

  Heavy footsteps pounded over to her and a firm hand grabbed her arm. Hannah peered into her father’s hard eyes. “Soon, Hannah we’ll be among civilized people and put this whole dreary event behind us.”

  She didn’t answer. How could he say such a thing? Had he forgotten what happened to his crew? Maybe he could easily put the events aside, but she couldn’t forget their screams.

  “’Tis time to go, lassie.” Kane's husky voice tore away the words she wanted to say and she nodded. What she’d remember most was Kane, his angry, his mercy, his kisses. She’d never forget him.

  Sean and Doc stood at the helm. Kane nodded. “Mallory, you’re in charge. Be ready to depart upon my return.”

  “Aye, aye, Capt’n,” Sean said.

  Kane led her to the portside to the rope ladder, leading to the longboat. She climbed down the rope into the boat. Amadi helped her to a seat. Next, Kane climbed into the boat and patted her thigh, but he was pushing her away.

  Her father and William came down next. No one spoke as Amadi and William rowed and beached the boat on the shore.

  Her father got out first and put his hands on his hips. “Which way is Saint Kitts?”

  “We’ll lead you, but you’ll be blindfolded.”

  Her father growled, “What? You would not dare.”

  “Aye, I do dare.” Kane folded his arms over his chest. “There’s only one way to Saint Kitts and it can be treacherous.”

  Her father scoffed.

  “’Tis not far,” Kane said. “But you must not know the way. The choice is yours.”

  Kane clasped her hand and helped Hannah out of the boat. Her feet sank into the sand.

  Kane pulled out two scarves out of his back pocket. “I’m waiting, Captain. What’s your answer?”

  “I’ll do it,” Hannah answered. She wanted out of here. The pain in her chest was as bad as when her mother died. She needed to get away before she lost control. Kane said he was protecting her by sending her back to England, but how could she trust in this? Like her father, maybe her powers were to blame and Kane didn’t want her aboard because she endangered his men. Her father repeatedly told her this during their sail from London. Maybe he didn’t want her. But she refused to throw away her last piece of dignity.

  Kane smiled and gently turned her around where she faced her glowering father. Kane’s fingers brushed against her bare skin as he tied the scarf around her eyes and she shivered. Darkness shrouded her eyes. A callous hand gripped hers. “I won’t let you fall, I promise,” Kane said. His sweet breath caressed her neck and she wished he would have kissed her. Somehow being blindfolded would make it hotter, wilder, but of course, he did not.

  “Fine. Blindfold me,” her father demanded.

  For the next hour, Kane led her through the jungle. Leaves and vines brushed her face and her boots seeped into the moist jungle floor of leaves, ferns and dirt, but he never faltered. Birds cawed overhead and wings flapped around her. Frogs croaked. Kane kept her close to him, pressing her against his side he lifted her over debris and helped maneuver through the difficult patches. Behind her, her father swore and fussed, but she ignored him, concentrating only on Kane. Being blindfolded, her senses sharpened. Her thumb swept over Kane’s palm, learning every texture.

  A loud roar thundered in her ears. She frowned. “Is that a waterfall?”

  Kane lifted her in his arms and she gasped. “’Tis treacherous.” She leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and inhaling his masculine scent. His firm footsteps never stumbled and she snuggled deeper next to him. He kissed the top of her head and a ray of hope burned insider her. Maybe he had changed her mind.

  Drops of water sprayed onto her face and the falls thundered. She bit her lip, thinking of the last one, wishing she could have seen the water cascading down Kane’s naked shoulders. She squirmed as her blood rushed through her, settling at her throbbing feminine core. She dozed against his shoulder.

  “Hannah, Hannah,” Kane whispered.

  She woke and blinked. The blindfold was gone. She winced at the blaring sun. She sat in Kane’s lap and realized he was sitting on a large boulder in the midst of a lush jungle and the roaring of the water had stopped. Through the foliage, she spotted the ocean and a white sandy beach. He gently sat her down and steadied her. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “Hannah,” her father ordered. “Time to go.”

  Ignoring her father, Kane tilted his head. “Follow the coastline toward the sun. At the fort, soldiers will take you into Saint Kitts.”

  Amadi handed her father a knapsack. “Cook prepared leftovers for you.”

  “You need to share, Captain,” Kane scowled.

  “Like I would not,” her father glared. “Come on Hannah, let’s get the hell out of here while we still can.” Swinging his arms like a pendulum, he marched through the jungle toward the beach.

  She scanned Kane, William’s and Amadi’s faces for the slightest change, but found none. Swallowing the pleas welling up inside her, she blinked back tears. Keeping her voice free of emotion, she muttered, “Um, I guess this is good-bye.”

  Amadi bowed. “Aye, good-bye, poppet. Take care.” He turned and disappeared into the thick jungle.

  William bowed. “Remember. Get out of Saint Kitts. The Fiery Damsel’s hunting you.” He glanced at Kane and followed Amadi’s path into the jungle.

  Kane slipped his hands around her waist, his fingers locking behind her, pulling her against him, pinning her against his rock-hard body. His mouth captured hers, deepening the kiss, sweeping away her fears on a wave of fire, dragging her into a forbidden world. She broke off the kiss. Why keep longing for what she couldn’t have?

  “Why didn’t just drop me off the ship? Why come at all?”

  He smiled and brushed his thumb down her lips. “For one, you never would have found your way through the jungle. And two, I wanted be with you a little longer. You’re so beautiful.” Releasing her, he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. “Go before I do something that we’ll both regret again.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t answer him. He regretted what he’d done last night? She felt anything but regret.

  Bowing to her, he stood and grinned. “Slán agat. Health be with you.”

  With that, he disappeared into the jungle. She debated following them, but he’d only bring her back here. Coldness gripped her and she wanted to drop on the ground and cry, but she was too stunned to cry. He was gone as quickly as he had entered her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Her heart shattering into a million pieces, Hannah stared at the jungle where Kane had disappeared. She was alone.

  Squaring her shoulders, Hannah headed down the path her father had gone. She placed her hand on her thigh and clutched the familiar outline of the dagger. Kane might not want her, but she’d not remain her father’s puppet. When her father discovered she was no longer of use to him, he’d throw her in a convent to repent. She had to escape.

  Her father sat on a large rock, watching the ocean, waiting for her. Rubbing his chin, he said, “They’re g
one?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  He walked over and towered over her. “Hannah, my dear, I find myself in a quandary. According to your blasted pirate friends, the Fiery Damsel is hunting us. I know you don’t believe me, but Jacques D’Aubigne will keep you safe.

  Even if he knew I slept with another man? Doubtful. Very doubtful.

  “I’ve thought long and hard about this,” her father rambled. “His Majesty has a small fleet of ships protecting Saint Kitts and I’ll ask your Uncle to send them out to blast the Fiery Damsel to Davey Jones’ locker.”

  “Father, no! The Royal Navy can’t defeat them. You’ll be sending them to their deaths. That will be murder!”

  He pinched her cheek. “Nonsense, they’re vampires. Our ships will attack them during the day. It will be easy.”

  “Father, these vampires don’t sleep in the daytime.”

  Her father waved his hand at her. “Bah!”

  “Father, listen to me.”

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her down the beach. “I’ll hear nothing more of it, Hannah. The only thing that matters is your safety. You can’t trust those blasted pirates. They’re full of lies.”

  “No, they’re not!” She struggled to get lose, but his grip tightened. She stared at a rock on the beach, drawing on her power, and flicked her hand. The rock flew across the air, smacking her father’s right shin.

  “Ow,” he cried. He released her and hopped on one foot.

  “Father, listen. You can’t send the British to kill them. All those sailors will die.”

  He limped toward her. “Hannah, you’re trying my patience.”

  She ran down the beach, the wet sand clutching her boots.

  “Hannah, come back here!”

  She gritted her teeth. Her father wasn’t fooling her. He was scared, damn scared. She wasn’t going to let him lead those sailors to a slaughter.

  “Hannah, will you listen to me?”

  “No.” She called over her shoulder.

  Riding in the carriage from the wharf, Hannah peered out the window at the white, rose and yellow buildings and framed houses. Men loitered outside a tavern and women entered and exited the shops along the street. But what caught her eye were the ships docked in the harbor—tall sleek schooners, short fat transports, two-mast framed brigs. One of them had to be willing to take her to England, away from this place.

  The carriage rounded the corner of the business district of hotels, inns and a brothel. Beyond the busy town, a huge white mansion with pink-colored trim and shutters was protected by a tall thick white wall loomed in the distance. The mansion had to be the Governor’s. They stopped at an iron gate and two footmen opened it. Palm trees circled the home like skinny brown soldiers with green hair. Flowering bushes covered the grounds. A white marble dolphin fountain spurted out water onto lily pads floating in the water.

  The carriage stopped. A solider opened the door for them. She gripped his outstretched hand as she stepped out. “Thank you.”

  Her father barged past them, marched up the stairs and pounded on the door. “Open up!”

  A gray-haired butler opened the door and frowned. “Yes, wha…”

  Her father pushed passed him like he was the King of England.

  Darting in front of her father, the butler declared. “Excuse me, you can’t just burst in.”

  “I most certainly can. I am Justin Knight, the Governor’s brother, and this is my daughter, Hannah. I demand to see my brother at once.”

  The butler cocked his eyebrow, but bowed slightly and disappeared, mumbling under his breath. A minute later, her uncle, Governor Michael Knight, ran into the foyer. His gray wig was lopsided and sweat glistened upon his chubby cheeks. His blue and white justaucorps with gold buttons strained as he rushed over to her father. “Oh my God, Justin! What happened?”

  “We were held prisoner aboard the Soaring Phoenix.”

  “Father,” Hannah scowled.

  Her uncle grabbed her father and hugged him. “You’re safe, dear brother!”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Her father maneuvered out of his brother’s arms.

  When her uncle glanced at Hannah, he slapped his cheek. “My word child! What are you wearing? You look dreadful!”

  “The captain made her wear that,” her father said.

  “Father,” Hannah said.

  Her father gave her a warning look, but she shrugged.

  “Uncle, I choose to wear these,” she said.

  “Well, my dear, you can’t be seen wearing those here in Saint Kitts,” her uncle said. “It would be scandalous.” Her uncle clapped his hands and a large black woman appeared. “Mary, order a bath for my brother and take this poor child and fix her up.”

  He turned to the forgotten solider. “Lieutenant.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Send for Captain Keats at once and notify Jacques D’Aubigne that his fiancée has arrived.”

  She grimaced. Fiancée? She clutched the emerald in her pocket. Not for long.

  “Dis way miss,” Mary said.

  Hannah followed Mary up the curved wooden stairway and down a long red carpet lining the hallway. Tapestries of English battles hung from the walls along with paintings of past Governors, one of them her beloved grandfather. He’d have let her choose her own destiny. But her father never agreed with him. Said he was too fanciful.

  Hannah entered her room and gasped. A violet quilt embroidered with gold thread and gold tassels covered a mahogany four-poster bed taking up half the room. A matching mahogany French bureau and dresser sat across from the bed. An unlit brick fireplace sat empty, north of the bed. Ashes dusted the bottom of the chimney. French doors opened onto a balcony, letting in the rays of the sun filtering through the foliage of a nearby tree.

  “’ere, is your bath, miss.”

  “I can bathe myself,” Hannah insisted.

  “But miss,” Mary said.

  “No.” Hannah shooed the maid away.

  Within minutes, Hannah bathed and dressed in a simple yellow gown. The white bodice, girdled high underneath her breasts fell loosely onto the floor in wide folds. The sleeves buttoned tightly extended far below her hands. She missed Kane’s loose shirts and pants. The dagger was secured against her thigh again.

  Hannah rushed down the hall. She’d not allow her father to convince his brother to send out ships to pursue the Fiery Damsel. Her uncle had to listen to her. He was sending the sailors to their deaths. Uncle Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs next to a man with black curly hair and cold blue sapphire eyes. She skidded to a stop. The man exhibited voluminously wide petticoat breeches, pleated with loops of red ribbons around his waist and at the knee. His red waistcoat matched the ribbons and his short flared burgundy shirt fell below his narrow hips. The coat sleeves fit close below his elbows, and he wore a burgundy linen cravat around his neck. An impressive sword belt hung around his hips.

  Here was another dandy who spared no expense in his clothing and obviously desired the finest material, not like Kane, who wore a simple shirt and breeches.

  Her uncle brushed his hand over the man like he was a show piece. “Monsieur Jacques D’Aubigne, may I introduce my niece, Hannah Knight.”

  Hannah gritted her teeth. Could things get any worse?

  Jacques bowed. “Mademoiselle.”

  Playing the dutiful fiancée, Hannah curtsied. “Monsieur.”

  Jacques offered his hand and she stared at it. Her hand shaking, she took it and he rubbed his thumb over her palm and she tensed. His hand was too smooth, too small compared to Kane’s large callous one. How could a grown man have such small hands?

  “You’re quite beautiful, Mademoiselle, even with your hair still damp and too much sun on your face.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment?

  “Here, you won’t have to worry about being in the sun too long. You’ll have the comfort of my house to keep your skin white.”

  Her stomach churned. She didn’t want
to be a mistress of a house, overseeing servants and worrying about her complexion. She wanted to be free aboard the Soaring Phoenix.

  He squeezed her hand and leaned his head closer. “Ma chere. I’m so glad you’ve been found. I was so worried about you. Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas? Are you well, Mademoiselle?”

  He smelled of overripe oranges. She longed for the scent of musky sandalwood. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Jacques led her into a sitting room and deposited her onto a plush velvet couch and released her hand slowly. He stood too close and Hannah put her finger under her nose to block out the bushel of oranges from smothering her.

  She turned to her father. “What have you told him?”

  Her father squirmed on the sofa. “Nothing yet.”

  “Mademoiselle, I’ve been awaiting your arrival and was distressed at your disappearance.” He picked up a lock of her hair.

  She frowned and jerked away. What the hell was he doing?

  He shrugged. “What’s it that you think I should know? The name of this buccaneer who held you captive, perhaps?”

  She scoffed. “No, Kane didn’t hold us captive. He rescued us.”

  “He held us captive,” her father insisted.

  “No, he didn’t. He rescued us.” She glared, but her father’s knotted eyebrows and tight mouth left little doubt he would not change his story.

  “I’m talking about Quinton Palmer, the Captain of the Fiery Damsel. Have you heard of him?”

  “Oui, Pourquoi? He’s a shameless pirate.”

  “Everyone knows of the Fiery Damsel,” Uncle Michael said. “Is he the one who sunk your ship and kept you captive?”

  Her father nodded. “Palmer sunk our ship, but Captain Kane O’Brien held us captive.”

  “He did not hold us captive, he rescued us,” she persisted, clenching her fists. “You know that.”