Corsair Cove

by Angela Ashton

  And if his original theory were correct, he had one week left to find it before the moon grew pregnant with her luminescence. What would happen if he hadn’t found the stone by then? Would he vanquish in a cloud of dust to taste the eternal darkness that was meant to consume him the night he’d toppled into the devil’s lair?

  But something told him the diamond was here, on the Keats estate. It didn’t matter, a night, a week, soon he’d be gone. Leaving her to pick up the pieces of yet another severed relationship, another grievous loss. It left a hollow in him like none he’d ever felt before.

  But what could he do? He had no more control over his comings or goings than he did landing here in the first place. It was the luck of the draw such an angel had happened along the coast when she did.

  Tonight, he would take his pleasure and fill her with enough love and tenderness to see her through the rest of her life. He refused to so much as entertain the heartstopping thought that there would ever be another man in her life; or that she might crawl back to the bilge rat in her distress. She needed someone to love, someone to care for her, to care for in return.

  But for him, there could never be another.

  Even if he were wrong about the king’s plans for his demise, there was only enough room in his heart for one woman, and she was curled in the crook of his arm. And she’d laid claim to his heart so easily. Damn, but he hated to ponder living even a day without seeing that contagious smile.

  He only hoped the king would not tarry in ending his misery when he returned.

  ~ * ~

  What the hell were the devious lovers doing in Louisiana? It had taken more time and some fast talking to track the cantankerous charter, and now it was time to discover if the costly voyage had proved successful.

  He checked the gun in his hand for the second time in the past five minutes. Loaded and ready to do his talking for him. Where Stacey and Mike had failed, he was prepared to take whatever force necessary to take what was owed him.

  Fifteen

  After a rib hugging southern breakfast, Larisa carried up a small lockbox from the family vault. Esa heard Jacque’s sharp intake of breath and squeezed his hand in support. “Nervous?” She sure as hell was, and prayed her breakfast wouldn’t resurface.

  “Aye lass.” His color was ashen. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed her as though it might be their last. She wanted to cry, wanted to get down on her knees and beg the Gods to let her keep him. If she thought it might help, she would have.

  When he was with her, her soul came alive. Her spirit soared and her inhibitions were nonexistent. His confidence became hers. Without him, she was nothing but a shy, timid mouse of a woman.

  Larisa cleared her throat. “You can relax, it’s not in here.” She flashed those pearly whites and winked. “At least I don’t think it is.”

  It would be the comfort of that smile that saw Esa through her grief when Jacque was gone, she mused.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Larisa asked with a concerned cock of her head.

  “Avast, it must be done, cherie. Carry on.” He nodded and Larisa shifted for a final okay from her cousin.

  When Esa bobbed her head, she added, “Alright then, follow me.” Then proceeded through the French doors and down the path toward the brook before she stopped. Rick looked captivated by the mystery of it all and kept silent. Had she told him about Jacque?

  Larisa settled the old wooden box on the ground, spun it round to face Jacque and laid the key on top, then moved away. “Like I said, I don’t think it’s in there, but I’m not taking any chances. Every generation of our family that has inherited this house has also inherited its secrets. If the diamond truly exists, it was never meant to be uncovered.”

  “What’s in the box?” Esa’d never seen anything so intriguing that wasn’t kept under shatterproof glass, lock and key. She ached to get her hands on it, clean it to a spit shine and restore the rare beauty buried beneath the layers of dust. She couldn’t be sure with all the grime, but it looked as though something were etched in the wood.

  “I was told it holds a map. To my knowledge, no one has ever opened it. It was Grandma Sophia’s.” She paused and looped one arm through Rick’s and rested a hand on her belly. “I wasn’t going to say anything yet, it’s still so early.” She paused to glance at her beaming husband. “Rick and I are expecting our first child.”

  “What?” Esa squealed and reached over to hug her cousin and cousin-in-law. “Congratulations! Oh my god, this is wonderful news!” For the past ten years, they’d tried to conceive a child, to no avail.

  “Indeed, there’s no greater gift than to have someone carry on ye legacy, to be sure.” The painful undertone in his voice made Esa’s head snap in his direction. The regret that shadowed his eyes was like an arrow through her heart.

  They would never have a child together. She’d been on birth control since the start of her menstruation in order to regulate her cycles. Tears blurred her vision and she dipped her head so he wouldn’t see her grief. She didn’t want him to remember her as a blubbering idiot that wasn’t capable of controlling her emotions.

  Larisa stepped up and gave Jacque a heartfelt hug. “I apologize if I come across as cold, but I’m sure you understand why I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Indeed lass,” he stated with an admiral smile. “I thank ye for ye cooperation. Not everyone would be willing to part with such an extravagant fortune, especially when getting nothing in return.”

  “Well I wouldn’t say that, you can’t put a price on your loved ones can you?”

  Jacque’s gazed moved over Esa. “Aye, indeed, ‘tis the truth ye speak, mademoiselle.”

  “Good luck, Jacque.” Larisa left him standing and walked several yards back toward the house with Rick. “Esa, come on,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Esa didn’t move. Her heart was lodged in her throat, choking her words, “Go ahead, open it.”

  The muscle twitched beneath his jaw, jerking a tear loose from its cage to escape down her cheek. Would this be the last time she saw the endearing set of his jaw, the last glimpse of a flaring nostril? The last time her skin blazed beneath the heat of his sultry gaze? He looked as though he might say something, but didn’t. Instead, he nodded before sinking beside the aged box. On bended knee, he picked up the key and studied it for a few moments.

  “Jacque, is something wrong?”

  His shoulders rose and fell. He didn’t look up from the box as he spoke in a tone that crushed the remnants of her heart, “Aye, I suppose it just feels wrong to be doing this, knowing that our time has reached its end. There’s naught I yearn to do more than take ye back into that house and make love to you one last time, but avast, I fear I’d never regain the courage, nor the strength to leave ye again. If my family’s fate weren’t the devil’s trump…” He paused to still his quivering chin.

  “Aye lass, ‘tis not to be. Perhaps, by doing the right thing now, by making such a grave sacrifice, Fate will see to it that we are reunited someday.” He choked on the last word and she wanted to fling herself on him.

  Her lower lip trembled. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. A thousand things ran through her mind that she wanted to say, things she should have said last night, but couldn’t summon the strength. She didn’t want to say goodbye. She couldn’t.

  The only words that slipped from her lips were in the form of a clipped whisper, “I hope you’re right Jacque.”

  ~ * ~

  Almost as though he were moving in slow motion, Jacque eased the ancient key into the hole and held his breath as he turned it. Hearing a soft click, his heart picked up its pace, the drum near deafening in his ears.

  His body was rigid, he could barely move. It was as though his hands had a mind of their own and not in any great hurry to open the familiar box. It had been his mother’s jewelry chest. It stunned him beyond all reason to see it in such dire condition. He swallowed, his saliva sticking on the barb in his parched t
hroat. What would he find therein?

  After a few hesitant minutes of ponderous silence, he rested a hand on either side of the lid. He almost found himself praying it was empty.

  Taking a deep breath, he edged it open ever so slowly. Peering through dark slits of uncertainty, he reached inside to withdraw the aged piece of parchment. A jolt of adrenaline shocked his troubled veins. The note was written in his native hand. Though he didn’t recognize the author of the bold scrawl.

  To the fool venturing to unleash hell once again upon the earth,

  Be warned of the vast evil of what ye may seek. It is with great care that I write this for many lives have fallen prey to the twinkling bauble. Even I, as I set ink to parchment, find myself cursed by having touched the wicked stone and have fallen pray to its plague. I only pray it releases me for returning it to its rightful owner. Be afraid, for if ye dare to venture further than this warning, ye shall unleash a doom upon yeself like none ye’ve ever seen. The stone of Sita must remain underground, where Sita herself resides. I beseech ye, turn back while ye still can. ‘Tis the only way to keep her wrath at bay.

  Christofer Roberts,

  Keeper and caretaker of the last of the Keats line.

  May the good Lord forgive us our trespasses and shed mercy on our souls.

  For a fleeting moment, raw, bone-chilling fear ripped through Jacque. He’d loved to oblige Mr. Roberts, if only it were possible. He’d prayed for a second chance, and here he was, staring it in the face. He’d never cowered away from anything before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  There was no longer any question, by the author’s own confession, the stone of the Hindu Goddess was buried somewhere in the vicinity.

  Larisa, Rick and Esa hovered over his shoulder, their inquisitiveness apparently outweighing their fear. Rubbing the gooseflesh on her arm, Larisa offered, “Christofer Roberts was Emmanuel’s caretaker. He was Sophia’s grandson. After his parents were killed at the hands of thieves in route to a governor’s ball, Christofer raised the boy. He must have been the one to bury the diamond, for it would seem the tragedy ended when the stone went underground, as he thought it would.”

  Jacque flinched at hearing the name, Emmanuel. “How did ye grandmother and her husband die, lass?”

  “A failed robbery attempt. Someone looking for the diamond, though they didn’t find it.”

  At least some good had come of such a destructive trail.

  Jacque set the note aside to pull out another frail document. This one was a bit larger than the last. The map. He didn’t have to open it to know what it was.

  Using great care and expertise, he unfolded the fragile parchment and read the bold script along the top.

  This map leads to hell and is in no way meant to guide a lost soul to Sita’s stone, but to remind one where it lies, so its sleep is nary a night disturbed.

  Be warned. Turn back while you still can!

  C. R.

  “With all due respect, Monsieur Roberts, ‘tis time for Sita’s stone to rise and shine.” As he studied the map, he realized Christofer Roberts was no stranger to piracy.

  The code was strikingly similar to one of his own regime.

  Esa peeked over his shoulder. “Was he a pirate?”

  A lopsided grin curled Jacque’s mouth. “Aye lass, appears as such. A quick study, aren’t ye?” He winked and came to his full height to analyze the generous courtyard.

  Esa, Larisa and Rick huddled together as he traipsed around the yard.

  He scratched his head, seemingly searching for something that was no longer there.

  Or was it?

  It would have stood quite a bit taller in its day, but he vaguely recalled the word pigeonair being tossed about by Esa and her relatives. He stared at the gazebo. It appeared to be in the right place…

  He traipsed over and circled the modern fixture, referring to the map from time to time in the process. Seeking any sign of hollow ground, he stomped his boots on the grass every now and then. Nothing. Yet, it had to be the right place as it was the correct distance from the house. And, according to the lass, the house hadn’t changed since it had been built.

  Had someone altered the bleeding map?

  Jacque hovered in the spot the map assured him was the gateway to hell and looked back at Rick. He almost laughed at the sight of the three of them balled together as if they expected the sky itself to fall down around them. “Tell me mate, was there a door right about here at some point in time?” He waved a hand over the area in question.

  Rick nodded and stepped out of the circle, making his way toward Jacque, though Esa and Larisa were hot on his heels. “Give or take a few inches, wh—” he stopped dead and jerked his head in his wife’s direction. They gaped at one another for several seconds.

  “Got a spade?” Jacque asked.

  “Er, yeah. But I don’t think you’ll need it.” Rick vaulted the few shallow steps of the gazebo and scooted the small round table off to one side. To Jacque’s surprise, Rick peeled back a rug to expose a trap door in the floorboards. A skull and crossbones had been painted on it, a final warning to the fool with enough brass balls to venture thus far. A sure sign of danger, if ever there was one.

  “It was inside the pigeonair and we weren’t sure what it led to. I went down and checked it out,” he shrugged, adding, “but I couldn’t see anything. Damn near boarded it up. Hell, I’m not sure why I didn’t. Figured it was there for a reason, so we decided to leave it. Do you think the diamond is down there?”

  “If that map is untainted, ‘tis indeed where Sita’s stone sleeps.”

  The men lifted the door back while Larisa went to retrieve a flashlight. It was black as midnight down there; the only thing visible was the rusty bars staggered along one side of the opening. A ladder of sorts.

  “Ye say you found nothing when you went down?”

  “Nothing but earth.”

  Esa leapt onto the porch and flung herself against Jacque’s chest. “Don’t go. Please!” she cried. “I love you!” Each word, each tear chiseled away another piece of his broken spirit.

  “I’ll see what’s keeping Larisa.” Rick left them alone and headed toward the house.

  “Esa, please, I beg ye, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. We both know what’s at stake. I don’t have a choice, I have to go.”

  He held her tightly, ran his hands through her silken hair and kissed her sweet lips for the last time. But it wasn’t enough. Yet he would think of it and reel in the soft feel of her skin, the feel of her head cupped against his palm while the royal noose strangled the life out of him.

  Larisa and Rick returned with the flashlight a few minutes later. Larisa turned it on and handed it to Jacque while quirking a weary brow. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” She pulled Rick and Esa behind her as she started back down the steps to the safety of the yard as Jacque studied the handheld flameless light.

  Esa resisted the urgency in the tug. Jacque feared she might try and follow him, talk him out of it once more and breathed a sigh of relief when Larisa squeezed her arm and yanked with a little more persistence. “Esa, come on honey, we have to go.”

  She tarried a moment longer, as if waiting for him to desert the treasure and follow her like a lost puppy, to his new home. “Jacque?”

  Godsteeth! That pleading voice, the earnest look in her eye would nag his cursed soul for the rest of his days. Heart broken and lonely. That was not the way he wanted to remember her. He wanted to remember her jovial laughter, that contagious smile, the slight wrinkle of annoyance above her nose, the soft swag of curls caress her lovely forehead.

  They both knew he might never see the light of day in the 21st century again once he went below. But whatever happened down there, it was out of both their woeful hands.

  “She’s right Esa. Please, I will find a way to come back. I promise.”

  They exchanged somber glances before he tore his eyes away. Another fraction of a second and he just migh
t honor her wishes and forget his miserable quest! Before he did just that he positioned himself over the opening, secured his footing and disappeared into the dark cavern.

  It was deep, at least fifteen feet underground. But not overly wide. Six, perhaps seven average sized men might stretch comfortably inside.

  Jacque moved the flashlight over the walls, referring back to the map. He returned to the ladder, counted off five paces left, turned right then went back ten. He bellowed toward the bit of daylight seeping through the opening above him, “Where’s that shovel, mate?”

  “Be right back,” Rick replied and within a few minutes he was handing down the shovel adding, “I’d like to stay and help you, but Larisa is terrified the curse may be after the Keats family so she wants to steer clear of any possible danger.”

  “I could be so lucky,” Jacque spat under his breath, instantly attacked by a rush of guilt. Esa was a Keats, whether he liked it or not. And he’d not wish any harm to befall her sweet existence. “Thanks mate, I understand her concern. I’ll manage.”

  He referred to the map once more, retraced his steps and crossed himself. Positioning the shovel above the intended mark, he prayed for the day he and Esa would be reunited and didn’t bite back the stream of tears that tumbled down his cheeks. “I will see ye again lass, I swear it. If I have to make a deal with the devil himself, we shall have our own moment in time.”

  He pierced the soft soil with the tip of the spade. Again and again, stopping only to wipe the sweat from his brow before plowing deeper into Sita’s resting place.

  His breath caught as he struck a solid barrier. Exchanging the tool for the flashlight, Jacque fell to his knees to peer at the object. He brushed the dirt away with his hand, scraping and swiping before jumping back up and shoveling around the outskirts of the target.

  “Jacque?” He heard Esa’s trembling voice call.