A Kiss in the Wind

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

“He ain’t no dwarf.” Sam’s statement rumbled quick and deep. He took a step farther into the light. His dark skin soaked up the lamplight, making their corner appear darker.

  The laughter died. Seriousness replaced the jest and the drunks came to attention.

  “Go on,” Henri said. “Git.”

  “No,” the sot said. “Not without the woman.” He pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Marisol.

  Good god. Not again. Bloody men. Bastards think because they have an extra appendage a woman must submit to their demands. Was waving a gun at her supposed to scare her and keep Sam at bay? She glanced at the behemoth. His arms remained fixed, relaxed across his chest. A wee smile flitted at the tips of his mouth when he returned the quick look. Poor Sam. He’d already found out firsthand how ill-natured she could be when bullied.

  “Come.” The man snatched at her wrist, causing her to drop her mango. It plopped to the ground, splattering juice and releasing a delicious fragrance. “Me and the boys here are gonna show you a good time.”

  “You should let me go,” she snarled.

  “Nothin’ doin’.”

  “Let go, you lobcock!”

  Marisol yanked back her wrist, forcing him forward. He stepped on the fruit and slipped into her. Sam took a step forward. Henri poised with daggers drawn against the other troublemakers. Lacking any restraint or hesitation, she stabbed him with her small knife into the arm holding her. He yelped and bumbled backward. Everything happened so fast, Marisol had no time to react to the man’s next move.

  He leveled his gun at her. “Bitch!”

  A shot pierced the night and the gun flew out of the brute’s hand. It clattered to the cobblestones and slid from reach. “Son of a…”

  “My next mark will be your head.” Blade stepped from the shadows, a puff of smoke still visible from the pistol’s discharge.

  Whew. Another close one.

  A group of men stood at Blade’s back shrouded by the darkness. The faceless pack poised deadly in their silence. “You men best move on before my benevolence runs aground.”

  Stanching the blood flow from his fingers with his other hand, the napper studied Blade hard. No contest could be had. They were outnumbered. “Let’s be on our way, then, lads.” He frowned at Marisol. “We’ll find us another poppet to play with, eh?” He took a bottle from one of his friends and the gang disappeared down the street.

  Blade strode over. His powerful pace had her wanting to shrink like a swooning genteel lass. He commanded the world around him to bow as if no man could conquer him. The elements were his to rule. And with those haunting eyes staring through her, she would be his loyal subject. Blast! Where had that come from?

  “You, dear lady, attract all sorts of trouble. How you have managed this long without a guardian, I’m certain I could not fathom.”

  “Did you not bear witness to his stab wound?” He hadn’t been contemptible, yet she would not admit to him how right he was with his remark. She wiped her knife on her hip and bent down to put it away under her pants leg.

  “Aye. A favorable event to have him fall on you.”

  “The happenstance means little as long as the end result keeps me alive.” She smiled at him as she stood, conceding to the obvious. “Thank you, Blade. I dare not think of what would have happened had you not come.”

  “Saving you has become something of a habit. Twice in one day.” He pursed his lips into a smirk.

  “I suppose now I’m beholden to you.” She winked and his smile spread.

  “I believe you are right, in more ways than one.”

  What did he mean by that, more ways than one?

  “Henri.” Blade turned to the little man. “I’ve made arrangements to have poultry brought to the Rissa. Cook us up a feast. We’re having guests dine with us tonight.”

  “Guests, Capt’n? Are we celebratin’ somethin’?”

  “Nay. But a man’s gluttonous stomach full to bursting is the best way to start a hunting party.”

  Her heart picked up speed. “You found out what happened to the Gloria?” Did he know what happened to the cargo and crew? More importantly, did he know what happened to Monte? Was he alive?

  “Not entirely. But we will be chasing down a couple of suspected targets.”

  “A couple, Capt’n?” Sam moved to stand with them, now soaking in the growing anticipation.

  “Captain Drake and the Widow Maker will be joining us.” He motioned to the shadows concealing the group of men. A tall man came forward. A white feather plume bounced on the hat covering the flips and waves of unruly dark hair as he neared. His long coat flapped open with his confident gait, revealing his brace of deadly weapons strapped to his proud chest.

  “Milady.” He inclined his head to her. She nodded back and he stepped aside.

  “Drake will follow one lead and we shall follow another. I am certain one of these vessels will have the silver and the answers we seek.”

  “But what of the Gloria?” Marisol chomped at the bit for whatever it was that Blade knew. “You said ‘not entirely.’ What do you know? You must have found something.”

  Blade took her by the shoulders. “You’re right. I do have something else I have found.” He let her go and motioned again to the group in the shadows.

  The rest of the figures pushed away from the darkness and came into view. There were eight of them but she locked on only one. Could it be? A painful lump lodged in the back of her throat. Tears, which she thought she had no more of, sprang from the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. But this time, these reactions were not because of sadness. These were born of joy.

  Monte. Her little brother Monte. He lived. He lived and walked toward her. She broke into a run.

  “Monte!”

  His broad smile warmed her as he raced to meet her. They embraced, hugging tight. She did not want to let him go. Ever. “Monte. Thank God. You’re alive. I’ve missed you so. Oh, Monte, you’re alive.”

  “Sister. Of course, I’m alive.” He pulled back to look at her, his loving gaze accentuated with the crow’s feet of his eyes. He had aged. His youthful countenance had been replaced with harsh lines. “I’ve missed you, too.” He kissed her cheek.

  She had so many questions for him. “What happened at Matanzas? Were you injured? How did you escape? I tried to get Alain to go back. Are you a member of the Gloria’s crew?”

  “Whoa, Marisol. Slow down. None of that is important right now.”

  He was right, of course. She let her excitement carry her away. This was a matter to be discussed among themselves, not openly in front of strangers. Each of them watched their reunion. She didn’t care. She’d been searching for Monte for months. Every port, every passage, she culled for any information about her brother. The tip that he sailed for Windham had paid off. The messenger, taking Blade’s cameo, the ghost ship blunder, it had all been worth it. My God. The elation overflowing in her heart made it so. She should feel repentant for those ill fortunes. She didn’t. Not anymore. Here they stood, together again. She had the urge to sing. If only she could carry a tune.

  “I can’t believe I’ve finally found you. I never gave up hope. I told Luc. I told him you were still out there.”

  It hit her again. The deep dread of losing Luc. How unfair that life had wreaked such havoc upon her. Losing one brother and regaining the other. Why couldn’t they both be there, with her, like old times? She would have to tell Monte about his big brother.

  “Monte.” She looked to the ground before summoning up enough courage to give him the news. “Luc is dead. He was hanged for last night’s raid here in Puerto Plata.”

  Monte pulled her back into their embrace. “I know, Marisol. I witnessed it.”

  She jerked back, shocked at what he’d said. “And you didn’t save him?”

  “There wasn’t anything I could do.”

  Something she couldn’t explain, a darkness perhaps, drew down his demeanor and his stance. She hadn’t noticed before, but he s
eemed rigid.

  Wasn’t there anything? If she had been there she would have fought tooth and nail to free Luc, even if she had to pay for it with her life.

  “Come,” Blade said.

  She was glad for the interruption. She couldn’t trust herself for what she might have said next.

  “Let us return to my ship for supper. There we will eat, drink and talk of tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. For far too long, tomorrow held little promise. Although tomorrow would be a fine new day, Marisol was not ready for tonight to end.

  * * *

  Marisol sat at the captain’s table with the men as they discussed the plans for their hunt the next morning. Five of them gathered there, Captain Drake and his first mate, a brawny beast he called Valeryn, Blade, Willie and herself.

  Blade thought it best she dine with his company, not as his guest, but to ensure she remained on board the Rissa. She had what she wanted. But she still had an obligation to return Blade’s cameo, and until she did, she remained under his custody.

  Empty plates sat before them, nary a crumb left, and fresh tankards of ale had been poured. The smell of meat lingered in the air from their earlier feast of boiled chicken, potatoes and bread. The meal tasted hearty and satisfying, settling deep within her and making her fight a drowsy tug. When was the last time she felt full enough to want to curl up for a nap? She should consider stealing Henri away. He was a master cook fit for the kings.

  Monte had not been allowed to dine with her in the captain’s quarters. However, she had a nice long stroll with him on deck before the meal. They reminisced about fairer times—as children gathering shells and crabs along the beach, their mother’s baked tarts, of adventures sailing with Alain. They talked of Luc and his mastery at swordsmanship. It must’ve been difficult for Monte to talk of their brother. He spoke little more of him, dodging any other subject about Luc, most notably, Luc’s death. That had been fine with her. Her grief had been reeled in. She controlled it now. But if Monte wavered and gave way to the hurt, she probably would, too.

  Perhaps he wanted to spare her from his terrible ordeal, and time and again, he avoided retelling what had happened to him at Matanzas. She hadn’t an inkling of how he escaped the Spanish soldiers in the raid gone horribly wrong. Never mind. They were together once more. That was all that mattered.

  Marisol looked about the cabin as she drank her ale. It was only a bit like what she expected from a pirate captain’s quarters. Functional but without the spoils of victories displayed throughout. Bookshelves secured books, maps and nautical instruments. Various painted lockers were pushed into available nooks, a small gilded mirror nailed to a post hung over a barrel and a peculiar painting of a naked woman embellished a wall. The most impressive piece in the room was the intricately hewn black desk. With a golden candelabrum casting a flickering glow on the matching set of scales and inkwell, the desk made a grand statement. Black hemp drapes were drawn, most likely hiding the bed Blade slept in. What wonders lay beyond those curtains? She would like to find out.

  Licking her lips at the thought of the captain tangled up in the blankets of his bed, she set the tankard down. He sat across the table from her and she caught him staring on several occasions. Not that she minded. She’d sent him a coy smile, or two, herself. This night, he had given her more than anyone before him. He gave her comfort, friendship and a spicy kiss to top it off. She had done well in getting him to help find Monte, even if it was accidental.

  Now she and Monte could return to Alain. Wouldn’t he be surprised? He’d be so thrilled with her and her relentless will, bringing Monte back. Especially with losing Luc and other crewmen to the gallows. She would be back in his good favor.

  Yes, she owed much to Captain Tyburn.

  “We’ll send the Gloria back to Santo Domingo.” Blade’s rich voice lured her away from her thoughts. “The three ships will sail together until we reach the Mona Passage.”

  “Are you sure the Sugar Lady headed east?” Captain Drake relaxed in his chair, absently tapping the rim of his cup.

  “Aye. A seaman on board pawning off pouches of tobacco mentioned to Willie, here, their next port of call to be San Juan.”

  “Smugglers?”

  “Perhaps.” Blade propped his leg up onto the table. “She’ll be going against the easterly trade winds and will have to tack across the passage. My waters.” He chuckled. “The Sugar Lady will be easy prey.”

  “So you are wagering this mystery ship is making a quarry of the Sugar Lady.” Drake nodded his head slowly and smiled. “I like this. Hunting the hunter. Jolly good fun, my friend.”

  “A glorious thing, to be a sea devil.” The room bellowed in laughter and the men raised their tankards high.

  After they settled down, Blade continued. “Mr. Castellan can pilot the Gloria back to Windham.”

  Monte? Why him? She just got him back.

  “He can give Windham his account of what happened.”

  “But Blade—”

  “Not now, Marisol.” He set his cup down and leveled his stare at her. “We’ve already discussed this.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Enough.”

  “What about—”

  “You may excuse yourself from the table.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. She’d learned long ago arguing with a bullheaded captain would do nothing more than blow hot air. Never argue in the company of men, either. A man doesn’t appreciate a woman criticizing him in front of his mates. Blade’s mates waited with stringent expressions, fully expecting she follow his orders.

  She brooded. “Very well, Captain.”

  “Willie, see Miss Castellan out,” Blade said. “Assign a man to her cabin.”

  With his cameo gone, she was to fawn under his command. It would be a whimsy notion to think he would let her go with her brother. Obviously talking to him about it now was out of the question. No, she would need to take a different direction if she were to stay with Monte.

  “Very well, sir.” She pushed off the arms of her chair, rising tall. “Gentlemen.” She inclined her head to the men and left.

  * * *

  Blade added a final detail to his log and replaced the white quill in the inkwell. Leaning back in his chair, he clasped his hands behind his head. Another long day. Exhaustion threatened to seep into his soul. But sleep remained a stranger. He hadn’t had a true night’s rest since, ah, well, it didn’t matter. A few winks would be enough. It always had been.

  Thoughts of Marisol wandered forward, sending missing silver and ghost ships evaporating to the back of his mind. The bonny lass sure had a go of it that day. He admired her for all that strength she shouldered. He had a special affinity for strong women. Especially those with overmodest smiles and eyes that batted at him during supper. Remaining focused on the business at hand had been a real challenge. He kept finding himself wanting to kiss her lips again. At least now, he could let her be the fetching obsession in his brief dreams.

  He rose from his desk and stripped his tunic from his body. A muffled knock tapped at his cabin door. Who would disturb him at this hour?

  “Enter.”

  When she stepped through the threshold, he silently cursed. Having Marisol in his dreams would be a pleasure. But having her come to his quarters to argue about her brother…well, that didn’t sit well with him at all. Couldn’t she wait until the morning to fence him? He would have a harsh word for the fellow guarding her quarters. If she hadn’t incapacitated him permanently.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Captain.”

  “As am I.” He shook his head, instantly feeling bad about his curt tone. “My apologies, Marisol.” He moved around the desk and motioned for her to close the door. “What can I do for you?”

  “I am looking for relief,” she said.

  “Oh?” This could get interesting.

  “I understand if you feel I am stepping over any boundaries but my curiosity is eating me alive.”

  Curiosity? I’ve a
bit of my own. “Go on.”

  “Your cameo. Its value undoubtedly pales to what meaning it holds for you. Please. Tell me what secrets it keeps. Tell me why you would torture me for it.”

  She had come to him to inquire about his cameo?

  “Torture? Dear lady, I believe you’ve toppled too much drink tonight. I’ve shown you leniency. Besides, I reserve my torment for when it behooves me most.”

  “Please, Blade.” She closed the distance between them. “I must understand why I’m being kept from my brother. I’ll be happy to return the damned thing to you, if you’ll just tell me why it is so important.”

  “Why should I relieve your misery while I remain in mine?”

  She sank down into a chair, dropping her hands into her lap. “You’re right. It’s just…I’ve just lost one brother.” She sniffled back her surfacing tears. “Getting Monte back, well, it would help if I knew the reason for giving him up so soon.”

  Ah, that fleeting relief of peace. He knew well the euphoric end of suffering and how quickly the false sense of freedom could be replaced with something beyond horrendous. He knew suffering. More than she could ever know. Her blind madness on the gallows with Luc’s body was only the tip of what torment could be, but time would numb her loss. Blade was not about causing her more pain. He needed her to understand that his motives ran deep and that their arrangement was merely provisional, not like the lifetime of suffering he endured. He’d never have peace. But she would. Soon enough, she would.

  He took a knee before her. “I was just a boy when I was taken from my home and sold off as a sailor to a savage master of a merchantman.” She raised her eyes to him, dams ready to burst. Oh how he hated to see a woman cry. He didn’t want to tell her about the cameo. It wouldn’t put her at ease. But then, he hadn’t been at ease since she stole it from him.

  “He had many boys, all of us slaves. We worked long hours in the scorching sun, during dangerous squalls, among vile conditions. Disease ran rampant, as did abuse. We had to be tough. We had to learn quickly. If we didn’t, we died. Young boys were easy and cheap to come by.”

  Sadness furrowed her brow. Her earlier claim of occasionally sailing had been falsified by the bow of her head. Aye, she knew of these hazards he spoke of. But he doubted it was firsthand.