by kps
She took a step back and crunched a fan beneath her heel. Her lovely face was mutinous. "Why? Why must I wait here? Other captains take their wives with them.
Why can you not take me?"
"Perhaps those other captains can stand the thought of seeing their women blasted from the deck, having a broken mast fall on them and crush them, watching them drown in a sinking ship or blown to pieces in battle-I cannot," he said briefly. "There is no use arguing, Carolina. This is one concession I will not make to you."
Her teeth caught in her soft lower lip and her eyes were dangerous. "Will you not?"
she asked softly. "Oh, but I think you will!"
"Let us not discuss it now," he said impatiently. "Let us sit down to dinner in a civilized manner and not be at each other's throat over the ridiculous notion of your going to sea on a buccaneering venture!"
Carolina subsided, but her eyes remained dangerously bright all through dinner. She gave short answers to his best quips. And by the time dinner was over, that consuming fear she felt that he might be killed on the voyage and never return to her had made her voice waspish.
"I am going to bed!" she announced, rising.
"Good," he said, laying down his napkin and rising, too. "I will accompany you.
Hawks can wake me early in the morning in good time to complete the provisioning of the ship."
Leaving! That was all he thought about! Filled with indignation, Carolina ran up the stairs ahead of him, flung open the door of her bedroom, kicked aside some half-filled boxes whose contents scattered before her, and walked over them to her dressing table where she busied herself with taking the ribands out of her hair.
All too aware of his lady's dangerous mood, Kells stood with arms folded amid the clutter and watched Carolina without speaking.
Suddenly she turned from her dressing table and her silver eyes flashed. "You should take me with you!" "No," he said wearily. "We have been over all that before. I will not take you into battle, Christabel." "Then do not go!" she cried passionately. "Why must you go to sea again? In heaven's name, why?"
He ran raking fingers through his dark hair. He was findingit hard to be patient with her but he managed to keep his voice even. "Because"-he spaced his words -"as I told you before, we can no longer afford our style of living unless I go to sea! This house, your clothes, your jewels--"
"I do not care about them!" She tore off the glittering necklace she wore about her neck and hurled it to the floor. She was almost in tears. "Indeed I do not want them if that is what having them means!"
He sighed. "There is an alternative, of course. I have money in England."
"No!"
"I repeat," he said sternly, "I have plenty of money in England, but I must go there for it myself-the goldsmiths will release it to no one else. I have told you that-and yet you are equally against my setting foot on English soil."
"Oh, you know why! The authorities are lying in wait for you there. You would be taken-killed! Reba's mother and the Marquess of Saltenham have seen to that!"
"Very possibly true," he agreed ironically. "Still I would chance it if you were not so set against it. So for your sweet sake I will allow my newer enemies in England to live a space longer while I sail out and take what I need from myoid enemies--the galleons of Spain."
And perhaps die from it!
Seared by that thought, she sprang up and ran to him, threw her arms passionately around his neck and clung to him-all penitence. At least temporarily. And although her responses to his masculine caresses that night had all the fire any man could desire, there was a certain reservation in her heart against him.
"This is a terrible place for you to leave me," she muttered resentfully when at last he drew away from her tingling body.
About to tum over in bed, he turned toward her instead. His grin was a white flash in the starlight, half seen. "Terrible?" he said humorously. "There is no better house in the town than this one. It is strong and defensible and decorated to your taste. You have servants, the latest Paris gowns, jewels, the city at your feet. Would you trade all that for a meager life at sea, storms that howl in the rigging, mouldy bread, water turned green in the casks, the ever-present danger of meeting the entire might of the Spanish treasure ftota at one time-or the Vera Cruz squadron-and being blown out of the water?"
"Yes," she said, as definite as he.
"I'd given you credit for better sense," he laughed. And, sounding pleased with himself, rolled over and was immediately asleep.
In the hall the long case marquetry clock chimed the hour-it was two A.M.
Beside the sleeping figure of her buccaneer, Carolina lay wakeful in the starlight, thinking. The nighttime sounds of Port Royal roistering were muted to her ears as she pondered her problem. Her pleas had made no impression at all on Kells-she might as well have saved her breath. This hot night of lovemaking which had left her so breathless had not moved him either.
Unable to sleep, at last she rose restlessly and donned a paper-thin silken shawl from the Orient had come to this buccaneer port via the pirates of Madagascar. The shawl was of a cool Chinese gold heavily embroidered in white silk-a pattern of sumptuous roses. The long pale fringe swished along her bare legs as she went and settled herself in the window for coolness and looked out through the new grillwork over the moonlit town.
She sat there brooding, letting the trade winds cool her hot cheeks-and started as a shadow scuttled out of the house below her and ran, barelegged and with a shawl thrown over her head to make her more a part of the darkness, barefoot down the street.
Carolina frowned as she recognized the flying form. That would be fifteen-year-old Gilly, she guessed, slipping out to keep a tryst at some waterfront tavern-probably with some brawling chance-met buccaneer. Not all the locks nor all the grillwork had been sufficient to keep Gilly in!
Carolina sighed. Nothing was secure-not one's house, not one's life, and certainly not one's future! Kells had said he would sail day after tomorrow and he would sail-she knew him wellenoughto knowthat. And without him, Port Royal would have nothing at all, she told herself. No life, no charm….
Below her, parties of drunken buccaneers were even now streaming down Queen's Street toward King's Lane or Sea Lane, lurching against each other with cutlasses clashing,bawling drunken songs,pinching the wenches who staggered along beside them, laughing at their squealsand giggles, making the night hideous with all the sounds of what was called the most wicked city in the western world.
Wicked? The town over which Carolina's somber glance passed was a town of contrasts. In a city unequaled for godlessness in this godless part of the world, Port Royal's skyline was yet dominated by a handsome church that reared its bell tower up into the sky. And the people who thronged this busiest of New World ports by day, if not by night, were proud of their church and considered the present church bell too small-they planned shortly to send to England for a new and larger one.
Well defended the town was, too, she admitted grudgingly, her gaze passing thoughtfully from Fort James on her left to Fort Carlisle on her right-and besides that, somewhere behind her were Fort Charles and Morgan's Line-for the buccaneers had an unparalleled eye for defense. The three major forts loomed over the shoreline, their brass cannon ever ready to defend the city. She almost wished it was not so well -defended-e-then she would have a good reason to insist that Kells take her with him.
Her silver-grayeyes flashed.He should take her with him--oh, she would make him do it! She would not be parted from him, left behind in this tiresome buccaneer town!
And since persuasion had not worked, she would try another tack! Her eyes narrowed as she thought about it. Finally, sitting there, she came to a decision, and a wicked smile crossed her delicately chiseled features. Pleased with herself, she tossed away her shawl and padded barefoot back through the clutter to bed.
Kells had but one more day to spend here before the Sea Wolf and her sister ship, the Sea Wench, sailed.
; It would, she promised herself, be a memorable one.
Outside in the handsome hallway the long case marquetry clock chimed four.
Chapter 8
Carolina slept late, only turning over and mumbling something inarticulate when Kells rose and asked her if she would have breakfast with him. Her slight sleepy shrug that deliciously rippled her pale female body, shimmering in the morning heat, was answer enough. He smiled and went out the door briskly, to breakfast alone.
It was afternoon when Carolina woke, stretched, and called for her bath. She lingered long in it, soaping her pale skin with scented French soap, giving a stream of directions meanwhile to an astonished Betts.
"Yes, that is correct-the gown I wish to wear is in the trunk room down the hall. No, I know I have not worn it for a long time, but it is of scarlet silk trimmed in silver and it has with it a black taffeta petticoat garnished also with silver-oh, you cannot possibly miss it, Betts."
Betts's brows elevated at what seemed to her a remarkably strange choice. Why would her mistress,
who had so many delightful new frocks, select an old one? And why would she select a vivid red gown rather than one of the delicate ice-blues and ice-greens which were the captain's favorites? And on his last day in Port Royal, too! As she went off to the trunk room, where so many handsome old clothes were packed away, Betts shook her head in bewilderment. It was indeed strange!
But not strange to Carolina, whose plans today were intricate and not yet really worked out. The dress was red-and when she was misbehaving she always wore red. If possible. Red suited her mood when she was feeling wicked.
The scarlet dress was duly brought and sent down-stairs to be pressed while a sullen Gilly-red-eyed from loss of sleep----emptied silver pitcher after silver pitcher of warm water over Carolina to rinse off the soap as she stood in the metal hip bath, looking lovelier than any Venus rising from the foam.
Carolina smiled at sight of the red gown when it was returned looking as fresh as when she had first worn it-on a day Tortuga would never forget! Betts felt uneasy at the sight of that smile. For her mistress was known to be capricious-"a handful" was what the captain sometimes ruefully called her.
Over her naked body, Carolina first put on a nearly transparent black silk chemise with sleeves that spilled a delicate spider web of black lace across her white forearms-that was not entirely fashionable now, but Carolina did not care. Her aim at the moment was to be seductive-hang fashion! Next came a shimmer of sheer black silk hose and black satin slippers with high red heels. Black garters, the rosettes set with brilliants, held the stockings taut. Silently Betts held out the black taffeta petticoat, and Carolina let it rustle sensuously down about her slim hips. It was garnished with silver threads and sprinkled here and there with brilliants.
Next came the startling scarlet silk gown, low-cut enough to cause gasps among onlookers had there been any, and with big elbow-length puffed sleeves that were edged with glittering silver threads.
Ah, she had made trouble once in this dress in Tortuga! she thought with a wicked smile as she tucked up the scarlet silk of her wide skirts into big panniers on each side, and fastened those panniers with brooches of flashing jet. The only thing missing was the scarlet ruffled parasol she had carried with it then and that had been lost somewhere long ago. No matter. She would pile her hair high up in the latest fashion and set in it enough brilliants to attract the eye! And several black velvet ribands, too, just to bring out the white-gold flash of her blonde hair!
It was approaching dusk when Kells came home from last-minute preparations of getting the Sea Wolf ready to sail upon the morrow, and that timing suited Carolina exactly. She met him in the wide lower hall and gave him a mocking curtsy as he entered.
He stopped still at sight of her. "I have not seen that dress for some time," he observed.
So he remembered the stir she had caused when last she wore it! Carolina was perversely pleased.
"It's very pretty. I thought I might as well get it out and wear it," she announced innocently. "Indeed I thought we might go for a walk before dinner," she added.
"Since it will most likely be our last walk together for some time." She tried to keep the bitter note out of her voice.
Kells made no comment but he regarded her warily. She thought his lean face wore a sardonic expression. So he had guessed she was in a dangerous mood. . . . Carolina tossed her head-at the moment she did not care!
He suggested they take a turn toward Fort James and stroll past Bradford's Wharf up Fisher's Row, where the breeze from the sea would be cooling, but Carolina hated the sight of the turtle crawls, where the huge lumbering creatures were penned-she never saw them but that she did not feel herself to be as much a prisoner of the island as they!
Still she did not demur.
Up Queen's Street they went toward the wharf. The sun hung low in the sky and its golden light turned Carolina's scarlet dress to sudden flame. From the Foot Passage that led down to Thames Street and the waterfront came a crowd of roisterers who had been imbibing strong rum at Littleton's Tavern. To a man, they lurched to a halt at the nerve-tingling sight of this sumptuous woman strolling by with her hair and gown both seeming ablaze.
"Look, lads, 'tis the Silver Wench," hiccupped someone, bumping into his fellows as he, too, came to a halt.
"I'd rather have her than gold," said a young buccaneer prayerfully. He had lurched against a brick wall and looked about to slide dizzily down it to the sandy street.
There was a snigger of laughter at his remark.
"Ye'll not have her, Parks," sang out a voice from the rear. "For the Wench is guarded by Captain Kells!"
The warning was heeded. The group fell back a little and quieted.
Carolina ignored them all although Kells frowned.
"Are you planning to turn up Fisher's Row toward the turtle crawls?" he asked her politely when she hesitated. "And perhaps acquire something for tomorrow's dinner?"
Carolina flashed him an impatient look in the waning light. "You know I cannot abide looking at those poor trapped creatures!"
"And yet I have seen you do justice to green turtle soup," he murmured.
"Yes--well, everyone does," she defended. "After all, it is a staple of the diet here!"
"At sea as well." He turned left on Lime Street and left again, leading her down the High Street toward the great Market Bell and the Exchange.
The roisterers from Littleton's staggered after them, keeping their distance but ogling Carolina. Some of their remarks about her beauty were rough enough to bring a frown to Kells's sun-bronzed face, but he kept his temper.
Carolina had just heard her hips described as "swaying delights that would drive a man mad," and her cheeks had grown a trifle pink.
"We are collecting a crowd," murmured Kells as several others joined the following group. "Was that your intention?"
Carolina shrugged. "I am just out for a little air. And what do you mean, 'collecting a crowd'?"
"I mean," he said in an undertone, "that some of those buckos following us are drunk enough to reach out for you. And that is something I will not permit. Do you want to see bloodshed in the street? Is that your aim?" He was loosening his sword in its scabbard as he spoke.
"Nonsense, that won't happen," Carolina said loftily, choosing to ignore the drunken group that staggered after them.
"Then why did you wear that dress?" he demanded, low.
Carolina took two more flaunting steps before she answered him. When she did her voice was tauntingly casual. "Oh, I had understood that your old friend, Captain O'Rourke, was in town, and I thought this dress might stir old memories should we chance to meet up with him!"
Her remark was the more outrageous because it was in this very dress that she had once asked Shawn to take her away from Tortuga, away from Kells. Shawn had been dazzled by her. They had come near to killing each other over her that day, Kells and his old friend Shawn, and Kells had not forgot it. Beside her, the gray
eyes narrowed and began to glitter.
"No, Shawn is not in town," he said crisply. "He is rumored to be in Madagascar. You have been misinformed, Christabel."
"Really?" She shrugged an indifferent shoulder. "No matter, we shall have our walk anyway." And inflame others, her mocking tone implied.
Blithely Carolina ignored the sudden stiffening of the man beside her. She did take note of his lengthening stride.
"You are walking too fast for me," she complained. "I cannot keep up." "Indeed?" His voice held a tinge of bitterness. "I would have thought few men could keep up with you."
Carolina's silver eyes began to flash resentfully. So he was going to take that attitude, was he? That she was in the wrong? Perversely she ignored the fact that she very obviously was in the wrong and like as not to cause a riot, garbed as she was in her present attire. It took a brave man to walk beside her through the gathering dusk of Port Royal.
But at the moment she could feel only tingling malice toward the tall man who strode beside her. She would make him afraid to leave her here!
But this boisterous group did not fit her plans. It must be someone more. . . , Suddenly her lips curved into a wicked smile. There just ahead, strolling toward them with a slightly swaggering gait, was exactly what she was looking for: their neighbor, Louis Deauville, whom Kells insisted was a renegade from his native country, seeking refuge here against being imprisoned for his debts in France.
"Monsieur Deauville." Happily, Carolina greeted the Frenchman's exaggerated bow.
"How nice to see you walking out this evening. You must tell me, is that coat you are wearing the latest thing from France?"
"You must be suffocating in it, Deanville," Kells observed unsmilingly.
Beneath Carolina's obvious approval, Louis Deauville's yellow brocade chest expanded beneath its thick crust of gold embroidery. "I was fortunate to find it here in the town," he said.
"The buccaneers' market is a good one," remarked Kells.