Blackwell 2
Time Swept Rogue
by
Amy J Fetzer
Chapter 1
South of the Tropic of Cancer
West Indies
1789
"They've attacked, Capt'n."
"I have eyes, Mister Cameron. And ears." Ramsey O'Keefe sighted down the spyglass, his fingers flexing with impatience. The bleached house rested atop a small mountain like the aging crown of a massive cake, layered with gardens and frosted with a high stone wail. Yet from his vantage point aboard a captured sloop, he saw only flames, orange tongues licking at the stucco wails and taking lives, "Damn you, Blackwell," he muttered under his breath. "Get your friggin' arse out of there." He lowered the glass and closed it with an angry snap, then handed it to his first mate without so much as a glance.
"Ready the skif."
"Aye, aye, sir." Men scrambled, yanking hemp rope and shifting the boom harness, practiced hands swinging the small boat out over the side of the ship lying dormant in the cove.
"Lower away and stand fast," Ramsey ordered, then paced, glaring intermittently at the smoldering fortress. Show yourself, Blackwell, he agonized as ropes slipped through tackle pulleys,
8 Amy J. Fetzer
ship mates gathering their strength to ease the dingy into the churning sea. Water lapped at the painted hull. Rigging creaked like oid bones. And Ramsey paused, straining to see beyond the dark as sporadic gunfire cracked and the cries of dying men drifted to him. He tried to ignore it, studying the small inlet, certain the night's tide would carry them out as soon as all were aboard.
If only he could have prevented this. A grinding knot twisted in his gut, and with both hands, he gripped the polished rail, his knuckles draining of color. He felt helpless, desperate to be in the middle of the fray. For 'twould be his only assurance that his message had reached Dane in time, informing him that several of Ramsey's mates lay scattered in and around the fortress. But if it had not? Sweet mother, he did not want to consider that Dane might kill one of his crew simply for lack of recognition. Instinct warned him that Phillip Rothmere would tempt such a daring act and if 'twere not foul enough that the cocksure bastard had murdered Dane's sister and stolen the Blackwell fortune, now he held the greatest prize. Tess.
Damn you to hell, Rothmere. Ram cursed, shoving away from the rail. If she's harmed, if her skin bears but one mark, by all that is holy, I will tear you—
A sudden piercing scream sent the hackles rising on his neck and he snapped his fingers, the spyglass immediately produced. Ram sighted. Angry fire illuminated the entire house now, yet his gaze remained riveted to the crumbling mortar below a pair of windows.
"Give the signal to assault," he ordered, and the double shots rang across the water. On shore, his men climbed the steep embankment, and even in the distance Ramsey could hear the whirl of grappling hooks, the clunk and scrape as they caught on ancient stone. Within moments the Continental Marines were scaling the wall. He waited, seconds chipping away until light pricked the murky night. There! The tunnel; sealed off from a decayed staircase and emptying into nothingness. 'Twas their only escape. And the survivors had to repel down the wall to the beach below. 'Twould be no challenge for Tess for he'd seen her climb swaying rigging in a storm, but if she were
TIMESWEPT ROGUE 9
injured? Ramsey squinted, yet could discern no more than dangling shadows splashed with torch light. The lack of clarity increased his frustration and he lowered the glass, handing it over to Cameron. Ramsey refused to watch, every unidentifiable sound toying with his nerves. He feared the worst, for Rothmere was a twisted animal, Satan incarnate, and Tess was his innocent hostage.
Oars slapped the water in brisk smooth rhythm, the muscles in Ram's shoulders bunching with each measured sound. He clenched his fists, knuckles cracking. The small skiff thumped the hull and Ramsey flinched violently, his gaze snapping to the railing. He stood motionless, his breath locked in his lungs til a dark head crested the wood.
He reached.
"Ramsey!" Tess cried as he pulled her over the rail, his big arms swallowing her in a bone-crushing embrace.
"God save us, lass," he murmured against her hair, then grasped her arms, holding her back to search her lovely features. "I thought—" He swallowed, looking her over once more and noting every cut and bruise. "I did not know—"
Tess gazed into his glossy eyes, incredibly touched by the emotion creasing his handsome face. "I'm fine, Ram. Really." She patted his cheek, her voice soft with pride. "You did good, O'Keefe. Thanks for sending Jamie."
"Ahh lass, you are most welcome," he said sincerely, catching her hand and dropping a kiss to her scraped knuckles. "Dane?" he asked and Tess saw raw fear flash in Ramsey's dark eyes.
"One wonders if you truly care," came dryly, "with the familiar way you are holding my wife." Ramsey looked up as Dane swung his leg over the rail.
' 'Blackwell!'' Releasing Tess, he grabbed Dane by the shoulders. "By God, I knew the bastard couldn't lay you down!" Relief and reverence blended in his voice as the men stared, then succumbed to a backslapping hug. Ramsey stepped back, his smile slowly evaporating as his gaze shifted beyond Dane to the house engulfed in flames. "I gather he's dead?"
"Aye, Elizabeth shot him."
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Amy J. Fetzer
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TIMESWEPT ROGUE
Ram cursed softly, plowing his fingers through his dark hair. "My God, man, what happened?"
"I shall enlighten you later, my friend." Dane's gaze shifted meaningfully to Tess. She picked at the torn threads of her gown, sullen, and Ramsey's heart tripped. She looked much the sad little waif.
Sliding his arm about her waist, Dane gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she lifted her gaze to his. Delicately, her trembling fingertips brushed his lips, her expression so possessive, so undeniably loving, Ram had to look away. Jealousy burned through his chest, yet 'twas not a jealousy of Dane for winning Tess, but an envy of the heart-wrenching love they shared in naught but a simple smile. He wanted that for himself, a woman he could lock horns with and still love, a woman he'd kill for, die for. Live for.
He assured himself his day would come. Aye, he sighed, but when? When? And would she be a'tall like the spirited Tess? Would she take him as he was, without tempting to change him? Would she—good God. You be in a fair mess of it, he thought, smirking at his own melancholy, then giving orders to weigh anchor as the last Marine boarded. Canvas unfurled, catching the breeze and moving the sloop quickly out of the cove toward the Sea Witch.
Ramsey turned back to find Dane studying him intently. "Is this a hidden facet of your character, Ram, disobeying direct orders?''
Tess glanced between the two men. "Uh-oh. Were you a naughty boy, O'Keefe?"
" 'Tis a reputation I strive for, madame." Lightly, he tapped her nose.
She rolled her eyes. "I'll alert the media."
Media? Ram mouthed, looking to Dane for explanation and receiving a puzzled shrug. Tess laughed, quiet and to herself and Ram was struck again with the notion that she held a secret power only she understood. And Dane was rejoicing in it.
" 'Tis well you seek some other profession, Captain O'Keefe, if this—" he gestured to the garishly painted ship— "is your sampling of a fit craft for a Marine."
Ram grinned devilishly. "Captured her right beneath Roth-mere's pointed nose."
"Are you certain he didn't give it willingly?" Tess taunted.
"I've proof. See." Ramsey held up his bandaged finger like a child showing off his latest wound. "A kiss would speed the healing, me thinks," he teased, flashing her a roguish smile and wiggling his brows.
"You sure he's a Marine
?" she said to Dane as she tossed her thumb toward Ramsey.
"Oftimes 'tis debatable, love," Dane murmured on a laugh, settling against the rail to watch the sparing match.
Tess's brows furrowed. "If you're here, Ramsey, who's commanding the Triton ?''
"Is that not what a first mate is for, lass?"
"Gee. What a relief." She sighed dramatically against Dane, her silver eyes bright. "And here I thought you misplaced it."
Ram folded his arms over his chest. "Misplaced her," he corrected and her expression instantly soured.
"Just like a chauvinist to refer to a twenty-four-gun frigate as a female,"
He eyed her, puzzled. "A chau-vin-ist? What mean you by this?"
The wind ruffled her hair and she brushed back the loose strands. "Ought to be easy for you to understand. It's a man who more or less thinks with his—" she waved in the vicinity of his breeches.
Ram chuckled lowly, but Dane stared at her in utter shock. "Tess Renfrew Blackwell!"
"I know, God's teeth, woman, but you're a bold wench," she mimicked deeply. "But you love it, pirate." She kissed him, hard and quick, then cast a sideways glance at Ram. "Triton is a man's name," she challenged.
"Aye, yet her name is truly Triton's Will, lass. The will to resist the lure of the siren, who is most definitely female." He was towering over, grinning hugely and adoring her quick retorts.
"I stand corrected, meek and subservient." Though she failed miserably to look it.
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" 'Twill be a chilling day in Hades,' Dane muttered, then let out an oof when she elbowed him in the ribs,
''She's to rendezvous with us later," Ram half-spoke to his superior. "Sailing away with cargo we commandeered from Phillip's warehouses." He winked at Tess, all three aware of her part in their success.
"Too bad he didn't have any paint in those crates." Tess glanced around. " 'Cause this tub looks like a floating pansy."
Dane smoothed his thumb and forefinger over an imaginary moustache, hiding his smile. "Be kind, Tess. 'Tis transport out." Then to Ramsey he said, "She's your prize. You may keep her."
"Bloody hell, nay!" Ramsey gruffed, nauseated by the pale blue sloop and its ridiculously striped sails. He itched to scuttle her himself. And would.
"You know, O'Keefe," Tess said philosophically. "I half expected you to come crashing through the windows at any moment back there." She inclined her head to the house burning in the distance. "Knowing your flair for the dramatic and all."
Mischief danced in his chocolate-brown eyes. " 'Twould have been a bloody disappointment to ruin a new pair of boots in that muck." He modeled his polished Hessians.
"Why, Ramsey," her hand fluttered to her heart—"I'm touched." She looked at Dane. "Can we hang him from the yardarm or something for that?"
"I'm afraid not, love, he captains this ... ship." Dane's lips twitched, his pale green eyes shifting to Ram, waiting for the next barb.
"I fear I must ask for the portrait of you back, Tess. I find I'm sorely in need of a reminder—" He leaned down in her face—"For 'tis the only time I've caught you with your mouth shut."
"Do and it's pistols at down, O'Keefe," she shot back and Ram chuckled. Cheeky lass. "Dane'll be my second," She nudged her husband. "Won't you, babe?"
Dane smiled benignly, refusing to comment, not thai 'twould matter.
"Or will an angry father beat me to the punch?"
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TIMESWEPT ROGUE
Ram reared back, his crushed look spoiled by his sparkling eyes. "Ann, but you're a cruel woman, thinking the worst of me."
She arched a tapered black brow. "If the breeches fit."
"You wound me, madame." He clutched at his shirt. "I believe 'tis a bit of Phillip that's rubbed off—" Ram ceased in midsentence as Tess's face went ashen and she twisted into Dane's embrace. God almighty, what horrors did she witness in those hours? He opened his mouth to apologize, then simply turned and walked away, cursing his thoughtlessness.
The Sea Witch's first mate approached him.
"Captain?" Gaelan whispered, glancing atween the couple and O'Keefe. "What shall I do with this?"
Ramsey frowned at the pile and grasped the familiar first, stuffing Tess's diamond pouch inside his shirt til he could return it, yet scowled as he accepted the small gilded box. Turning the tiny key, he flipped back the lid. Even in the indigo dawn he knew he held Dane's legacy: the Blackwell gems.
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
15
Chapter 2
1989
Universal Studios, Florida
Closed Set
"Why was Tess Renfrew driving your car, using your credit and residing in your state room aboard the Nassau Queen?" Justin Baylor rushed to ask, hoping to catch his prey off guard
He didn't.
And she continued to stare at him, stirring her coffee, catlike eyes unblinking.
"Cut! Cut! Damn it, Justin. This is our livelihood, not hers!"
the director called angrily. "You're costing the studio money,
so stick to the format. Clear?" he added from his seat beyond
the camera and Baylor waved agreement, still looking at his
guest.
"Sorry."
She smoothly arched a tapered brow. "Liar," she said and the single word held a wealth of warning. He was trying for sensationalism. And he wasn't going to get it. Not from her. She'd spent her life avoiding just that.
Settling deeper into the overstuffed white sofa, actress Penelope Hamilton crossed her legs, shooting a don't-even-think-it
look at the makeup artist who saw the break as an opportunity to apply yet another layer of face powder. Jesus, they're like attack dogs, she thought, briefly leaning out to set the coffee spoon aside, her slim hand coming back to brush feather-light at the waterfall of straight deep red hair pouring over her shoulder and pooling on her lap.
She hoped no one noticed her trembling.
The last time she had* agreed to an interview, she was eighteen and they'd crucified her. Never again, she thought, staring at the coffee cooling in her cup, her tight grip threatening to snap the delicate china. She took a deep breath and her touch loosened. She had to be careful. Her mind wasn't sharp enough today, constantly slipping to the iast time she'd seen Tess; alive, taking on Penny's problems and running from two armed men itching to put a bullet in her back.
That was three days ago.
Not knowing what had happened to Tess chipped away at her composure.
A lump swelled in her throat, and she swallowed hard, forcing it down before tears could follow.
The call for quiet demanded through the studio, yanking her attention to the man sitting across from her in a matching chair, checking his notes. He looked up, his smile resembling a panther prepared to pounce and Penny wanted to knock his teeth in. He ought to wear a sign: does not play well with others. He didn't want the whole truth, only dirt, enough to grab a headline, and she wondered whether this bout would go the round without bruises. For her the truth was muddier that he could ever imagine. And suppressing it just might have cost Tess her life.
The camera's red light flicked on.
' 'The Gold Masque sounds like another box office smash," Justin said slickly plugging her next film. "Now, how about answering the questions on every fans mind?"
Here he goes again, she thought. "And that is?"
"Your past."
Eyes, dark green and feline, stared back at Baylor.
"Such as?" Frosty, remote.
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TIMESWEPT ROGUE
17
"Any sisters, brothers? Lovers? Ex-husbands?"
A hollowness echoed through her heart as she said, "I was an only child and my parents are dead." Inwardly Penelope cringed at the half-truth. She'd no idea if she had family or even her real name, for that matter. Pathetic.
"Are you in love with anyone now?"
Her gaze shar
pened, then immediately cooled. "No." She tilted her head, thoughtful, a sapphire earring winking in the artificial light. "At least not that I can tell." And the public didn't need to know, even if she was dumb enough to let anyone get that close.
"Ex-husbands?" Justin added quickly, now that he'd broached the subject.
"Marriage is nothing that can be ex-ed in my book," she said, her smile brittle as her nerves. I should never have agreed to this, she thought, fingering the tiny locket suspended from the long chain around her neck.
"Any prospects, then?"
Her chuckle, low and husky, wafted around him like dense wood smoke.
"You act like I'm on a hunt."
Justin smiled. The camera loved this woman and up close, he understood why. She was exotic, sensually sleek and mysterious.
"Well—your name's been linked with other celebrities like Mel Gibson."
' 'Now, Justin.'' Her tone scolded, her smile Mona Lisa faint. "He's a married man with a wonderful wife and six beautiful children." Envy blistered through her and she took a fortifying breath before quickly adding, "Do you honestly think he'd be interested in giving that up for me?"
His gaze flitted over the deep teal linen suit, simply cut and curve hugging. "About half the male population would. Like Josh Randell?"
Penny stiffened, guarded. "See, that kind of talk gets you into trouble. You speculate and the rumors fly." She waved a hand, Queen Mum elegant.
Damn. She wasn't going to give him anything juicy, Justin
realized, grinding his teeth. "Is that why you've given this interview, after being silent for so long?" He wanted to ask about Tess Renfrew again, but couldn't risk her walking out.
' 'I haven't been silent; the media prints whatever they want.'' Beneath the hot lights she felt perspiration form at the small of her back. "No one ever asked me for my views. And when my name was connected to all sorts of people I'd never met, I decided they would distort the truth even if I gave it to them."
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