“A salty dog, would you like to try it?” The wench thrust the drink toward him.
Jacque smiled and accepted the spirited concoction, tipping the cup to his parched lips. It wasn’t something he would order for himself, but it was wet, as was his carnal appetite. And since his heady encounter with the slippery Esa Keats, he’d been taunted with the stanch need to sate his caged lust.
“Mmmm,” he purred. “Palatable, indeed.” He let his eyes brazenly wander down the wench’s bonnie figure and added, “How’d ye like to try the real thing?” That response earned him more giggles and kept him occupied over the next few hours in the eager wench’s hotel room.
~ * ~
Esa found her frame of mind lifted after the power nap followed by a revitalizing shower. She selected a royal blue spaghetti-strap dress and black heels to wear to dinner with Sid. He would no doubt comment on her choice of attire and ask where her shawl was. At times, she wondered if her fuller figure embarrassed him. Ah well, she had bigger problems than her chronic weight dilemma. If he preferred the waif look, what the hell was he doing with her in the first place?
She studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. Maybe she did need to lose a few pounds. Sure, her boobs resembled small melons, her butt was a little too big, her stomach lacked the current bio-concave trend, but she wouldn’t go as far as to call herself fat. Pulling a few chestnut curls free of the French twist to accentuate her face, she mused over her awkward encounter with the ‘pirate’ earlier that afternoon.
“Jacque Cherif LaFleur,” she whispered with a dismissive chuckle and a shake of her head while rummaging through her make-up bag. He hadn’t seemed to notice the unwanted extra pounds in her saddle. In fact, the lusty gleam in his eye made her think he might prefer a softer woman. Had Sid ever looked at her like that? No, that was a look no woman would soon forget.
“Damn!” She tore a tissue from the box and wiped at the smudge of mascara beneath her eye. Good grief, just thinking of the obnoxious peddler left her all hot and flustered!
Why was it that the majority of men that gave her a second glance, the ones that weren’t after her father’s money, were either one of two types?
Lunatics or spoken for.
Sid wasn’t the most handsome of men, blonde and a little on the rail side for her taste, but she’d fallen in love with him through his gallant acts of kindness over the years. And he loved her. That’s all that really mattered.
Rose-colored fingertips floated absently to matching lips as she relived the disturbingly delicious feel of the stranger’s potent kiss. Did the shore roving gigolo make a habit of kissing strange women? She jerked her hand away from her mouth and glared at her reflection in the mirror.
How could she possibly feel an inkling of jealousy when it came to the pretend pirate? For Pete’s sake, she didn’t even know the pervert! Why should she care if the rogue kissed one woman or one hundred?
The ring of her cell phone snapped her back to reality. It was Sid calling to let her know he was waiting in the lobby. With a finishing spray of her favorite cologne, she was out the door.
“Patty?” Esa called as a familiar woman swept past the elevator. The woman stopped and turned around, surprise plastered across delicate features.
“Esa! What a surprise!” The slender blonde threw her arms around Esa as though they’d been friends for life.
Startled by the unwarranted affection, Esa could only grin. Patty worked as a secretary at ‘Keats Port & Shipping Industries’. Although they were more acquaintances than actual friends, it was nice to see a familiar face. “Are you here on vacation?”
“Er, yes. Just arrived actually.” The elevator opened and Patty’s face lit as though relieved of a great burden. “Nice seeing you. Gotta get settled into our room, g’bye!”
Esa frowned as the woman sped down the hall. “Talk about flighty!”
Sid was leaning against a marble pillar centered in the massive palm-filled lobby when she arrived. Was he actually checking his watch? His blond hair barely dusted the collar of his maroon dinner jacket.
“Ahh, you look absolutely scrumptious.”
A warning flag shot up in her head. He hated when she wore clothes that exposed so much of her flesh. If he was complimenting her, that could only mean one thing. He wanted something.
“Maybe we should go back—”
“Nice try Sid, but we have some talking to do.”
He looked somewhat affronted, but offered her the use of a chivalrous arm which she accepted before they left the bustling hotel. “So, where are we going?”
Something felt different between them, although she couldn’t quite pinpoint its birth. She hoped it was just the shock of recent events that gave an illusion that things had changed somehow. Sid was all she had left in the world. Well, unless you counted distant relatives that one saw once or twice a year at funerals or reunions. They may have their problems—all couples did—but she needed his unconditional love and companionship to see her over this hurdle.
“It’s a surprise.” Sid smiled, wiggling almost translucent brows. The ice that had formed over her heart the past few weeks cracked. He was trying to make her laugh. And it worked. She couldn’t contain her amusement for he reminded her of one of the lollipop kids from the Wizard of Oz at times, and he knew it. Wasn’t that one of the reasons she loved him so much? For his genuine care and concern for her welfare?
He opened the passenger door of the rental car and smiled like a vulture just before it would have descended and devoured its prey.
~ * ~
His carnal appetite appeased for the time being, Jacque left the fascinating hotel. He’d spent a great deal of time investigating the indoor plumbing. And the clever wenches were kind enough to assist him with his very first shower. Though they seemed to view his behavior as odd, he could tell they’d enjoyed the experience. They’d giggled uncontrollably, as though not a single synapse fired in their brain when he’d inquired about his whereabouts, coming to the conclusions that they didn’t know any more about where they were than he.
The women had carried on about his prowess, using words like role-playing, erotic and stimulating. Mind blowing, the things the bendy women could do with their lovely bodies, and their trained mouths.
To his delight, they’d not asked for a coin in return, not that he could have paid them. His pockets were empty, as was his belly. Except for the ruby given him by King Louis and his Letters of Marque. And he’d not part with them should his life depend on it.
While he’d sated his immediate needs, visions of the raven-haired angel he’d encountered on the beach filled his mind. Esa Keats. As he thought of her, of what it would be like when it was her he made cry out in the apex of passion, it occurred to him that if anyone might be able to help him figure out what had transpired from the time he’d fallen from his ship, it was her.
After all, she had been there when he’d awakened on the beach. Perhaps she could tell him how he’d come to be in that very spot. That is, if he could convince her to tell him the truth. He smiled, feeling as wicked as the devil himself. He could torture her in ways that would leave her begging to do his bidding!
But first, he had to find her.
The hotel he’d spent the afternoon in overlooked the harbor. He would return there and inquire as to Esa’s whereabouts. With a face and body the likes of hers, it shouldn’t prove difficult a task.
As it turned out, he was right. As soon as he mentioned her name to a gentleman bending over a small sailing raft in the harbor, the man looked at him and beamed as to rival a flaming torch.
“Keats ye say? Sure, I know her. Who doesn’t?”
The suspicious look Jacque threw him caused him to clarify his meaning. “What I mean is, I know of her. Her father owns ‘Keats Port & Shipping Industries’, up in Fort Myers.” The old man nodded in the appropriate direction, his graying head wrapped in a red bandana. A plastic earring too big for his ear slapped his neck with each mo
ve he made. “Or, I should say, he owned the business. He recently passed away, poor soul. Cancer.”
Jacque couldn’t have been more winded had he been punched in the stomach. Keats owned his own shipping business? Impossible! Jacque’s head grew dizzy. What in the name of all saints was going on?
So she wasn’t lying, her father was dead. Merde! It just didn’t make sense. Not any of it. “The lass’s father, what was his given name?”
The man seemed to find a bit of humor in the inquiry. “His given name?” He snickered. “Why, that’d be Charles Keats. Do you have some business with Miss Keats, Mister….”
“LaFleur, Jacque LaFleur.” Jacque accepted the man’s extended hand and gave it a firm shake.
The man quirked a heavy brow and straightened his spine. “Jacque LaFleur, as in the pirate Jacque LaFleur?” He laughed as though it were the funniest thing ever to leave a man’s lips.
A muscle twitched in Jacque’s jaw. In his element, those that were lucky enough to recognize the silent alert were the ones smart enough to stay out of his way, and continue to take air into their lungs. The intimidating twitch was like a warning shot sent out to notify the troops the enemy was upon them.
Teeth grinding with his mounting irritation, Jacque tensed at the slur, battling with himself to maintain control and curb his escalating fury. He’d invested too much time in his attempt to turn his life around for the better. Why did these fools insist on bringing up his scandalous past?
“No, as in the privateer, Jacque LaFleur.” His tone was dangerously low. His eyes narrowed in great loathing while his hands fisted at his sides.
“Ahh, I see,” the man replied. “You’re playing the freebooter before he returned to his pirating ways, eh?” His smile was mocking as he surveyed Jacque’s appearance. “You do resemble him now that you mention it. Great costume! What’s your real name mate?”
Jacque felt the heat rise to his face at a dangerous level. His hand went for the invisible dagger at his waist to carve the fool swab’s throat out, only to recall his thrifty first mate had removed his weapons while he’d been tupping the alluring decoy. Hellfire!
His hands froze at his waist just when he would have strangled the smiling sea dog as his words penetrated the thick fog of black rage. What the blazes was he blabbing about?
Returned to pirating?
Never!
“Explain yeself, bilge rat!” Jacque snatched the man up out of custom and held him by his collar a good foot and a half off the ground. Instantly, the awkward scene attracted an inquisitive audience. “Avast! I say explain yeself.” He spewed, lip curled in a deadly snarl. But the slanderous rat suddenly appeared to have lost his voice.
Shouts of encouragement and an array of wolf calls accompanied random derogatory statements and flew from the crowd. The onlookers assumed the display was all part of an act put on by those in charge of the grand festivities. Several uniformed men pushed their way through the belligerent crowd to the front.
“P-Please,” the rat sputtered.
As if lightning shot from the sky and zapped his hands, Jacque released his grip on the man’s shirt and he fell to the ground. After a moment of dazed silence, the ghostly man came to his feet and burrowed his way through the ever-growing mob, leaving every mouth wagging in wonder as to his peculiar behavior.
The crowd applauded and shouted ‘Encore’ as a more serene Jacque drifted absently toward the wenches’ hotel. Perching himself atop a wooden table beneath a shady palm and behind the three story building, his gullet twisted in a tornado of turmoil.
Nausea crept up the back of his throat.
Incredible.
While he’d held the insulting man in the air, something snapped inside him. Like someone unlocked a forbidden door in the attic of his mind. The huge sign waving in the breeze from the gleaming schooner just over the man’s shoulder caught his attention.
It wasn’t so much the words on the sign that caused fear to leap into his chest, but the date. 2004.
It had the effect of a canon ball.
Three
Sid drove around the cluster of decorated pirates that spilled along the narrow road. “Surprise!” he bellowed, a triumphant smirk spreading his face as he parked the rental.
Esa stiffened. Surprise be damned. She was in no mood to put up with a loud, obnoxious group of people tonight of all nights.
Sid, as though sensing her revulsion clicked his tongue in frustration. “What is it, Esa? I went out of my way to make reservations here because you raved about the place for weeks after we were here last. Damnit! Can I do nothing right anymore?”
Esa choked back the guilt-ridden tears that threatened to spill. He was right. It wasn’t his fault her father had betrayed her. “I’m sorry, Sid. It’s just that—”
“Forget it,” he spouted, slipping the keys back into the ignition and putting her to mind of a spoiled child.
Expelling a weary sigh, she pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. She didn’t want to fight with him, not now, not here. She was much too tired, much too mentally exhausted for the drama an argument would entail. What was with him lately? He’d been so uptight these past few weeks. Was it her?
The sweet buttery smell of lobster and seasoned crab cakes taunted her appetite as Sid escorted her into the popular restaurant. After they were seated and their order taken, he topped off her wine glass before settling the bottle back in the ice bed and cupping her hand in his. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For everything. I know you’re upset, and I’ll miss Charles too. I just wish you’d reconsider your decision. That business belongs to you.”
Esa yanked her hand free. And she’d almost fallen prey to his dramatic flair. The nerve of him! How many times must she tell him she didn’t want to discuss the will ever again? Why the hell wasn’t he getting it? What did she have to do to make him understand?
Her eyes narrowed in accusation. “Is that why you wanted to have dinner with me tonight? To discuss my father’s will? Listen to me Sid, I’ve not changed my mind—nor will I. Why is it so important to you?” Her tone began to attract the unwanted attention of other diners.
“Shhhh!” His face flushed as he glanced around the bustling restaurant at the numerous eyes gaping at them. “Alright sweetheart. As you wish, I’ll not bring it up again. I was only trying to look out for your best interest. I know how much you love that business. I want you to be happy. We’ll do whatever you want.”
Esa wasn’t sure if he was red with embarrassment, or anger, probably a combination of both. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, if my father wanted me to have the company he would have left it to me, wouldn’t he?” Her own thermostat climbed at least ten degrees.
“No need to apologize dear. Let’s change the subject, shall we?” With a clipped smile, he lifted the crystal glass to taut lips and sipped as if attempting to swallow his frustration. “So, how have you been?”
Esa groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long evening. What happened to them? Since her father had passed, there seemed to be an invisible rift between them. All they did was fight so that she dreaded seeing him, even the sound of his voice made her cringe. And looking at him now from across the table, she could see all too clearly that he felt the same way.
He didn’t really want to be here. Why had he come? The will stupid, that voice rose up inside her. Hell, look at him, it screamed, his demeanor changed the instant you declared the conversation of the will closed.
Could that be his reason for their courtship? His proposal?
She quashed that thought from her mind, refusing to even think Sid wanted her for any other reason than her love. He was just looking out for her interest, he’d said so himself.
She touched his stiffened hand, a little surprised when he started to recoil from her touch, but seemed to catch himself. So many things went through her mind in that moment.
Permitting the softest purr into her voice, she smiled at him. “I wonder what it was about Pops.” She
paused deliberately to look at him through her lashes. Just as she’d suspected, he snapped to attention at the mention of her father.
“Yes sweetheart? What is it?”
Her heart dumped into her stomach, souring the wine she’d been drinking. “I’m sorry, I—why do you suppose he never liked you?”
Sid’s eyes rounded in alarm and then glazed over in a distant stare. “That’s a silly question. Why else?” It was his turn to reach out to her. The simple act of him massaging her hand robbed what remained of her already diminished appetite. “Because I stole the heart of his little girl, the apple of his eye.” The counterfeit smile returned.
It was easily one of the hardest things she ever did, but Esa resisted the urge to slap it off his face.
~ * ~
It wasn’t long before the annoying screech made its way toward Jacque.
“Police!” someone shouted and he lifted woeful eyes to see the strange carriage headed his direction.
He could have put up a struggle when these oddly dressed men moved to secure him. But they were armed, and he, unfortunately, was not. A man would have to either be a fool or have a death wish to go up against those odds. Admittedly, he could be either, or both when the occasion called for it, but not now; at least not until he discovered his reason for being here. Had he understood the sign correctly? Was it the year he’d read, or something else? Could he really be two-hundred and forty-eight years into the future?
These officers, as the plates on their clothing stated, uttered something about disorderly conduct and his being under arrest before securing his arms behind his back with thin metal shackles and settling him in the back of the strange, yet comfortable, carriage.
He’d answered truthfully when they’d inquired about his name, but of course, they didn’t believe him. Instead, they had the audacity to laugh in his face. The blithering macaronis.
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