“Oh,” she snorted. “We’re not dating, we’re just, er, friends.” The devilish gleam that materialized on Candy’s face made her want to suck the words back in the moment they slid off her treacherous tongue. Damn.
“Oh? How interesting. He’s very…” she paused to clear her throat, then added, “Manly.” She licked her lips and wiggled a brow.
Damn the harlot! Esa couldn’t be sure if she was more upset at Candy for lusting after Jacque, or with herself for feeling such possessiveness toward the willful corsair. Not to mention she was guilty of the same lusty thoughts herself.
Perhaps conversation should be minimal. Esa pulled her bag closer in search of the novel she’d meant to finish. “Well, he is a man,” she said, not bothering to remove the sarcasm from her tone.
Jacque materialized beside her at that moment. Had he heard her? With a flirtatious wink, he handed her a cocktail. “This should help cool ye heels lass.”
“It’s a bit early for cocktails don’t you think?” she replied, accepting the iced drink even as she questioned its timing.
“Avast mademoiselle, ‘tis never too early for a bit of fine Jamaican rum.” He winked again and threw that deliciously sexy grin her way before depositing all six and a half feet of bronzed rippling muscle in the chair directly opposite her. Good grief.
Perhaps he should have brought the entire bottle.
Just close your eyes and don’t look at him, she told herself. But that wouldn’t stop him from gawking at her or… She glanced to her right and saw the hard feminine body stretched the length of the lounge chair and cringed.
Feeling overly self-conscious now that Jacque was near, a hundred questions raced through her mind. Is my stomach sticking out? How long can I suck it in before the cramping sets in? She took a long sip of her drink. If she kept going at this rate, she’d be drunk before noon and wouldn’t give a hoot as to what she looked like or who was looking! Not a bad idea.
As if her self image wasn’t wounded enough, the flawless Candy couldn’t go without commenting on her choice of swimwear, and her less than model physique. “Pink is such a girlish color, you’d look so much better in red or orange. Or black. They say it does wonders camouflaging those unsightly areas. You need to show more skin dear! This is the twenty-first century—there’s no need to hide yourself. Especially when you’ve so much to show.”
Esa opened her mouth, but Jacque had already begun speaking. “I think she looks fantastic. Pink, red, green…’tis the woman that makes the outfit, not the other. Esa should have her own color for she radiates in such a way that one doesn’t even notice her clothing.” He looked at her through a predatory gaze.
Something in his eyes ignited the coals of desire in her eternal furnace once again. “As for showing more skin, there is a time and a place reserved for such delicate things.” His gaze held hers in a lusty proposal. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a woman looking like a woman.”
A chivalrous knight. That’s what he reminded her of. Was it what he said or the way he’d said it that lifted the fog from her emotions? The dreamy accent, the charming gaze, the sensual grin, the magnetic aura; she hadn’t a clue, but whatever it was, the silver tongued prince of time claimed her heart that very moment.
The man oozed buckets of charisma.
And while the opinionated Candy’s mouth snapped shut, her own must have opened and closed at least a dozen times before she was able to find her tongue.
“Er, thank you, Jacque,” she finally managed to spurt out.
“Please, don’t be offended. Candy just likes to show off her new boob-job,” a chuckling Brad offered. “But you won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“Boob-job?” Jacque’s brows furrowed in puzzlement.
“Of course, you didn’t think those perky pups were real did you?” Brad’s belly shook with laughter. “She had implants put in about six months ago. She went from a size 34B to a stunning 36DD. Amazing how they can do that with just a little silicone. And they feel so soft and firm that you can hardly tell the difference!” Brad bragged as Jacque sat there, jaw to the floor, soaking it all in.
He frowned at her, brazenly analyzing her generous bosom. “Is this true? Men have actually found a way to alter body parts? What is this, this sil-i-cone?”
“You’ve never seen implants before?” Candy scoffed. “Well darling, allow me to be your first. Would you like to touch them?” she purred, thrusting her full bust at him in invitation.
Esa choked on the remainder of her cocktail. Oh hell no! The slut did not just ask her pirate if he wanted to grope her over inflated breast! Enough was enough. She only wished she had a stickpin.
“Are ye all right, lass?” Jacque asked, coming to her side when she couldn’t hinder her coughing. He looked a few shades lighter than he did a few minutes ago as he removed the glass from her hand and sat it on a small table.
Had he been drinking at the time, he appeared as though he might have had the same reaction.
“I’m f-fine,” she spouted through bouts of coughing. She glared at Candy. “What the hell do you mean by—”
“Please, don’t let it bother you, she does that with everybody.” Brad flicked his wrist as though it were truly an everyday occurrence. “She’s just proud of ‘em, that’s all.”
Esa turned to where Jacque had been sitting but he’d plucked her empty glass from the table, only to return a few moments later with a fresh, somewhat stronger concoction. She beamed gratefully before downing half of it.
To her amazement and his credit, Jacque appeared disgusted by the woman’s outlandish request.
~ * ~
Damnation but people had grown more bizarre with the passing of time. Jacque could identify with Esa’s shock. He’d gulped two shots of rum while mixing a fresh one for her.
His size allotted him to drink more before his brain became addled. He wasn’t so sure about hers, he thought he’d better dilute the next one a bit, just to be safe.
But Candy wouldn’t let it go. “Come on Jacque, you know you want to. I can see it your eyes.”
Where he’d come from, women—and scandalous women at that, only spoke like that in the upper parlor of a saloon.
Looking directly into Candy’s pale blue eyes, he said in a guttural tone, “Avast, mademoiselle. I prefer to touch a woman in possession of all natural, God-given parts.”
Candy’s smile faded. He’d offended her if the flared nostrils were any sign. “You wouldn’t say that if you were to touch them. Perhaps you’d change your mind if you saw them?” She gave a sharp tug on the string, exposing her high priced perky bosoms.
Brad seemed to find great humor in their stunned expressions. Esa looked as if she wanted to rip Candy’s hair out, individually, root by root, and tell the woman exactly what she thought of her obnoxious behavior.
Instead, she leapt from her seat and thundered toward the stairs spewing an array of colorful adjectives. He, on the other hand, was shocked beyond words. If a trifle tempted by the shameless gesture.
He turned to Brad, his hard glare a muted warning in itself. “Ye’d best fasten a leash on ye wench, mate. I’ll not have her upsetting my woman again.” He tossed back the remainder of his glass before settling it firmly on the table. Godsteeth! How much more could he withstand of this insane century before he went completely addled?
Brad puffed up his chest. “Do I detect a hint of a threat?”
Jacque turned lethal eyes on him. “Nay, no threat mate. ‘Tis but a warning…and ye get but one. You’d fair well to remember that.”
He found himself once again at Esa’s door. With a heavy sigh, he rapped his knuckles against the painted wood. It immediately flew open and he was greeted by an infuriated, huffing Esa.
“What the hell do you want? Don’t tell me you’ve had your fill of that sex starved kitten already?” Her words were slightly slurred and she would have closed the door in his face had his boot not prevented it. Why was she lashing out at him
? He had no control over the forward wench’s actions.
“Oooh! Just leave me alone,” she growled, ending with a body jolting hiccough.
“Esa…” he trailed off when he noticed only a trivial ration of liquid remaining in the bottle of rum in her hand. He groaned. It had been a little more than half full when he’d poured their last round. “Did ye drink all that, lass?”
“Hell yes!” Another head bobbing hiccough. “And what of it? I’m not a child. LaFl-eeuuur. I’m over twenty-one, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions damn-it! When will you self-glorifying men come to realize that?” She held her head as though it pained her a great deal and retreated to the bed before dropping onto it.
She wasn’t a drinker, he could tell. Yet she was at least two sheets to the wind and well on her way to the third by the looks of it.
“I can’t believe her nerve! That woman is a slut. And you!” There was hurt-filled loathing in her eyes that matched her tone. “So, how was it? I’m sure you didn’t waste any time pouncing on those superficial balloons after I left.” Her tone dripped a lethal blend of sarcasm, jealousy and disgust that made him stiffen. “Perhaps you’d like to touch mine in comparison?”
Following her into the cabin, Jacque leaned against a chest of drawers beside the bed. Arms folded over his bared chest, he allowed a lazy smirk to creep onto his face. A cool seduction played upon his tone, “No, Cherie. I did not touch the sil-i-coned wench. But avast, I’d very much like to touch you. And will, in time. Shall I take that as a formal invitation to put me hands on ye then?”
No words escaped her flapping mouth, though none were needed. Her bulging eyes shouted her affliction.
But the muted reprimand wasn’t to last.
“Of all the arrogant, conceited, over-confident things to say! But just so we’re clear, that most definitely was not a personal invitation. You think you’re the cock of the whole damned walk don’t you? You think you can have any woman that brings the slightest twitch to your britches. Well listen up Mr. LaFleur, you’ll never-ever have me.” She ended with yet another throaty hiccough and he chuckled, which only proved to irritate her more.
Poor lass, she’d skipped breakfast and the alcohol had obviously gone straight to her head. He removed the bottle from her hand, refusing to debate the issue. “Ye need to sleep, lass.” He half expected her to put up an argument, and was rather surprised when she didn’t. Easing himself onto the edge of the bed, he smoothed the stray chestnut curls from her eyes. Long, dark, beautiful lashes fluttered sleepily.
The lady was a diamond lost in a world of gray cobbled stones. Much more desirable to him than that showy Candy. Esa was everything he ever dreamed of, everything a woman should be. Painfully sexy; a tigress with just enough innocence as to be intoxicating. This particular hellcat possessed the perfect amount of ice to balance her fiery spirit. A rare beauty, in every sense of the word. Exotically so, though she didn’t think so. Which made her all the more alluring.
Her jealous ranting thrilled him to the core of his being. But that wasn’t all. With this enchanting woman, there was a spiritual connection he’d never before experienced. Could it be that forbidden thing called love?
Clinching his eyes shut, he inhaled, slowly releasing the tight breath. Love. Indeed. He snorted.
A self-depreciating emotion if ever there was one.
Hell, many moons ago he’d even played the fool himself, actually believing he shared some fraction of the hideous affliction with someone he’d sooner forget. He’d been wrong then, why should he trust his wooly emotions now?
Avast, his equilibrium was surely off kilter having been catapulted through hundreds of years!
As he sat next to her, admiring soft features, Jacque realized this time was very different from the last. The century, the woman, the circumstances. Why did he insist on battling with himself?
She looked as sinless as a babe in a crib when she slept. His hand ached to caress the flawless round of her cheek. “Cursed promises,” he snapped.
Every promise he’d ever made had resulted in naught but trouble. But he was a man of his word, for all his other shortcomings. Besides, Esa was nothing like…
He cringed at the sting of hostility inside him. How could he be so careless? Yet, this time, his mother wasn’t here pleading with him, making him think he felt things he really didn’t feel in order to please a dying woman. There was no pressure to care for Esa. The feeling just seemed to come as naturally as the sunrise each morning.
Quashing such unpleasant thoughts, his gaze fell upon her engagement ring. An invisible blade stabbed at his heart and a whole new wave of bitterness came over him. The lass needed protection from the Sid’s of the world. And a vast part of him wanted to be her protector.
The irony of their situation brought a grin to his troubled face. He was a lone stranger in her time, yet she was just as alone. The sad truth was, they needed each other to get over the startling hurdles thrown at them and get their lives back in order.
But from the moment they’d stepped foot on the small scaled contraption of a rowboat, the same question had continued to nag at him. Would he be able to say goodbye to his rescue angel once the time came? His heart shouted the answer before he’d completely posed the sore question.
Closing his eyes once more, he allowed his head to fall back, his hair tickling the middle of his back in the process. His chest felt as though an elephant were plopped upon it.
No, as surely as he’d fallen through the portal of time, he knew he’d never be able to leave this quick-tempered woman of the future. An opportunity he may have never had, had it not been for… Godsteeth, it was too much to swallow. Did he have the blithering Keats to thank for his union with the woman that held his heart in her hand?
Avast, there is justice in irony.
Pulling the soft blanket over Esa’s shoulder, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, my sweet angel,” he whispered, his gaze lingering fondly before leaving her side.
Once in the hall, he pulled the door closed softly so as not to disturb her and rested against it. He closed his eyes and drug weary hands through his mane, expelling a puff of confused air.
Why did he insist on fighting the inevitable? There was a reason behind his being here. What if that reason had nothing to do with the treasure, and everything to do with her?
Could his reason truly possess an hourglass figure, shapely legs, silken ribbons of curly hair and a smile that could outshine any diamond King Louis might think to dominate?
For the first time in his life, he was hopelessly in love.
Hook.
Line.
And anchor.
But how did Esa feel? He smiled mischievously, resolved on unearthing more than the king’s booty on this particular voyage.
Aye, he had much larger fish to fry. Perhaps it was time he change his bait.
Eleven
“Well? How’d it go? Did you make up for lost time?” Sid could hardly keep the anxiety from his voice. He’d had to do some fancy footwork to secure the actors and get them onboard before the yacht sailed with its skeletal crew. If this trip proved to be a hoax, he’d be damned he’d walk away empty handed.
Stacy, AKA Candy, threw a confident smile at Brad, AKA, Mike and spoke into her cell phone, “I think so. He wants me. I can see it in his eyes. It’s just a matter of time—not to worry. To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to this particular assignment,” she leered.
“Yeah, this is the best gig I’ve had yet,” Mike chimed in, kicking back on the bed and placing his hands behind his head.
He and Stacy had met not long before their departure, and he was completely and openly infatuated with her. “I gotta tell you babe, I was a bit stunned when you pulled off your bikini top and asked the hulking grizzly to feel you up. Shit woman, you wouldn’t have had to ask me twice!”
Stacey ignored the comment and kept her attention on the lethal tone in her ear. “Jus
t keep him occupied. I want you inside that room and leaving nothing to gather dust mites until it’s found. Call me the second you have it. Do whatever it takes. I don’t care what happens to his worthless bitch.”
~ * ~
Esa’s hand darted to her throbbing head as if to soften the pounding blows, however unsuccessful. “Good grief. That’s what I get for having been so stupid as to think a half bottle of rum would solve my problems!” She kicked off the thin blanket.
As if a major timber broke lose in the damn of her thoughts, the cumbersome events of the morning came flooding back to her. She’d sprung from the chair and snatched up her belongings, scurrying from the madness as if the sky was about to fall down around them…and unfortunately, not before clutching the remaining bottle of rum on her way down to her cabin.
“Slut,” she spat, her hands leaving her head and plucking the Extra-strength Tylenol from her purse. Jacque’s reaction to the melodramatic incident hurt more than she wanted to admit. He’d looked as though he was actually considering the woman’s offer. Typical. Well, she wasn’t about to sit in her cabin while they enjoyed themselves. This might be her last ride on her mother’s favorite charter.
After washing down the miracle caplets, she turned on the shower. The unruly reflection in the mirror caused a groan to escape her. She had the dreaded Alice Cooper syndrome: mascara trailed a thin black path from red-ballooned eyes and her hair resembled a bedraggled wig she’d once worn on Halloween.
What was she trying to prove? And to whom?
She clasped her hair back on both sides, leaving the rest of her raven tresses hanging below her shoulders in loose bouncy curls. The maroon sundress complimented her sun-bronzed skin. She glanced in the mirror and frowned at her reflection. Her eyes were still puffy, though there wasn’t much she could do about that. Well, if her stomach hadn’t folded in on itself she wouldn’t even bother to leave the cabin until she was presentable.
“Oh, what difference does it make? With that life-sized Barbie doll on board no one is going to notice whether or not your face is swollen!” she spat at her mirror image before moving toward the exit. Her eyes settled on the small white note stuck to the back of the door. She froze. An eerie sensation climbed up her spine.
Corsair Cove Page 17