“I’d like to spend more time with you…. Do you at least have a first name you can share with me? I hate to call you Captain Hawk.”
Moonlight gleamed on the golden streaks in his pale brown hair as he chuckled and pulled her into his embrace. He liked it when she swayed against him and rested her hands on his chest. They gazed at each other for a time; then he remarked, “There’s something unique about you, woman, besides your being the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I guess it’s obvious how much I want you, and it impresses the hell out of me that my desire doesn’t frighten you.”
“I suppose that’s because you strike me in the same way. I’d like to get to know you better, starting with at least one name.”
They exchanged smiles. “Is Jared enough for now?” he asked.
She did not want to be threatening or overly aggressive. She needed to work on him slowly, carefully, mysteriously. She had to concentrate on now, not the distant future. Her eyes glowed as she replied, “Yes, Jared, it’s plenty for now.” He had proven that he wanted to trust her by revealing his real name, although he didn’t know she knew that.
“Will you meet me in the morning? I’m in room ten of your hotel. With this war raging, I don’t know when I can make New Orleans.”
Maren knew the risks and consequences of her response, but she was willing to accept them. “I’ll come to your room as soon as I can sneak away. Do you have any other plans in the morning?”
“Not anymore. I’ll be up by dawn, waiting for you.”
Their eyes fused, then their lips. They clung to each other and kissed urgently, caressing pleading flesh, trying to soothe it.
Suddenly Jared drew away. He was breathing heavily. “If we don’t halt this, I won’t release you on this night.”
“I wish you didn’t have to,” she bravely confessed. “I should get moving or they’ll have a search party out for me.”
Jared couldn’t draw Slade’s attention to him right now, so he reluctantly released her. But more importantly, he did not want a swift, primitive mating with her. “I’ll follow you back at a safe distance. Get away as soon as you can. Our time together is short.”
Maren clasped his face between her hands, drew it down to seal their lips a final time, and kissed him stirringly. “I’ll be there, Jared.” She then scooped up her slippers and raced toward the lighted area at the edge of town. Sneaking in the rear door of the hotel, she hurried to her room. Eric had not yet returned, so she had time to freshen up and change.
When Kerry Osgood returned to Jared’s room, he reported, “I followed them like you ordered, Jared. They took the boxes to a plantation a few miles outside of town. It’s my guess they were locked in the cellar. Whatever was inside was a mighty heavy secret. I’d say guns or gold, ‘cause it ain’t illegal to sell whiskey.”
“Did you find out who owns the plantation?”
“Eric James of James Shipping, and it’s guarded well. I overheard something else; that ship came straight from London, not France. You were right; they lied to us and those papers were false.”
“Did you hear them mention a girl?” Jared asked. Since Kerry was his best friend and first mate, Jared trusted him in all ways. The two men had known each other for years, and had been nearly inseparable for most of that time, so Jared did not have to conceal or deny his feelings.
“Not once,” the blue-eyed Kerry answered. Seeing Jared’s relief, he then grinned mischievously. “Did you get anywhere with her?”
Jared sent him a playful scowl. “Not like you mean, Kip. I don’t know how to explain it, but she’s got some crazy grip on me. I’m seeing her in the morning. Maybe I can unravel both mysteries.”
“You think she’s involved?”
Jared rubbed his jaw and exhaled loudly through his nose. “I surely hope not, Kip. Unless she’s got me fooled badly, she isn’t.”
“But Eric, it’s not even morning yet,” Maren protested when her cousin roused her and ordered her to get ready to leave immediately.
“Five British warships are arriving today,” he lied. “Someone could recognize me or the Martha J. Please hurry, Maren. We’ve got to get out of here on the early tide or we’re trapped.”
“Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be ready.” Alone, Maren flung on her clothing, then wrote Jared a note. She could finish her grooming aboard ship, but she couldn’t vanish without telling Jared she’d had to leave. She crept down the hall and slipped the note beneath his door, returning to her room just before Eric knocked again.
In less than thirty minutes, Maren was watching the island disappear. She threw herself across Canton’s big bed and tried to go back to sleep so she wouldn’t be tormented by what she was leaving behind.
Jared was up shortly before dawn, eager to see Maren. He hoped she could get away and join him soon. He dressed quickly and carefully, wanting to look his best for her. As he eagerly awaited her arrival, pacing the large room, he noticed a paper on the floor near his door. He frowned as he picked it up, suspecting it was something he did not want to read. “Had to leave. Dangerous here. Hope to see you in New Orleans.” Although the note was unsigned, he did not doubt whose message it was.
Jared hoped Maren had not left yet. He went to her room, to find only a cleaning woman. He rushed downstairs, but Maren was not in the lobby. Questioning the man at the desk, he learned that Maren and James Slade had left before dawn, clearly in a hurry to catch the early tide.
Jared sighed heavily, but within moments one of his brows rose. He wondered if she had told James Slade about his presence, had perhaps let it slip accidentally. James Slade was certainly running from something or someone. Jared recalled the words Dangerous here and wondered what Maren had meant. At least her message sounded as if her hasty departure was a reluctant one. Yet, something was amiss. Besides probing for his name, she had asked what he was doing in Jamaica and if he had any plans for this day.
If only he could pursue the Martha J and check out this curious situation. But he couldn’t. His contact here had passed along an order to attack a British flagship heading this way. In addition to rescuing impressed American sailors, Jared was to steal muster rolls and official papers which listed the destination, size, and strength of the British squadron massing near Nassau. Afterward, he was to deliver the information to the President.
Now that Maren was gone, he did not intend to linger. He had asked his contact to learn all he could about Eric James, about his shipping firm, his plantation, and about James Slade. Jared knew that when he reached the President he would discuss James Slade and Eric James with him, for those two men were obviously involved in some secretive endeavor that might be perilous to America.
Chapter Three
On June eighth the Martha J reached New Orleans. Maren was apprehensive about going ashore and being confronted by the reality of her parents’ deaths and her homelessness. When she had left almost two years ago, she had never expected to return under such sorry circumstances.
Eric guided her to where his brother was awaiting them. Marc was beaming with excitement, his dark blond hair was mussed by the wind, and his green eyes were darting about as if to avoid missing anything. He favored Eric a great deal; even their heights were the same, five feet and eleven inches. Yet, Marc’s personality was very different from his brother’s. Marc was still green and boyish, and he was much less intelligent than his brother.
He surged forward and hugged Maren, kissed her cheek and asked countless questions, behaving more like a youth of fourteen than a young man of nineteen. Maren smiled and tried to calm him, but Marc was too stimulated to settle down. She related what she could without saying too much in a public place.
Eric clasped his brother’s shoulders and lightly shook him. “Let her breathe, Marc. There’ll be plenty of time to learn the news.”
Marc obeyed his older brother, but he shifted about restlessly. Maren laughed, caught his arm, and cuddled him for a moment as if he were a small child. “You’re stil
l the same, cousin Marc,” she teased. “Relax, we promise to tell you everything.”
The James brothers escorted Maren to the finest hotel in town, and left her there to unpack and rest before they joined her for dinner downstairs. Before closing her door, Maren affectionately embraced both men, but once she was alone she sighed deeply. What now, Maren James? This isn’t London so you can’t become Eric’s ward. You have to decide what you’re going to do with your life. She must put to use all her parents had taught her, she decided. To get through the difficult days ahead, it would be essential to draw on the courage and strength that had been instilled in her.
As she unpacked, Maren daydreamed of Jared Morgan and of what might have happened between them in Jamaica. She had lost her heart and head to him—she would have proven it that morning if Fate had not intervened—and she was concerned because she had not warned him about the British warships en route to the island. Hopefully he had sailed away as they had… but she did not know where Captain Hawk’s loyalties lay.
A business problem came up which prevented Eric from dining with Maren and Marc. During their meal Maren related everything she and Eric had agreed to reveal to the immature Marc; then she asked him about things in New Orleans.
In response, Marc told her the tale Eric had ordered him to relate. He didn’t know why his brother was lying to their lovely cousin, but he knew better than to cross Eric. When he was obedient, Eric was very good to him; but when he was not, Eric was cruel. Since Murray didn’t want him around in Baltimore, Marc had to depend on Eric to take care of him. Besides, he had told only little lies which couldn’t harm Maren or anyone….
“Are you planning to sell Lady Luck?” Marc asked.
Maren’s head jerked upward, and she stared at the man who was stuffing a rich dessert into his mouth. “I thought Eric had already sold it.”
Marc guzzled his drink, then told her, “He tried, but he couldn’t. Uncle Cam had a secret partner, so it can’t be sold without his signature and agreement. Eric couldn’t find out who he is.”
“Are you certain about this, Marc? I still own Lady Luck?”
Marc failed to realize that she had not been told of this matter. “Of course I am. Now that you’re home, you can tell Eric who the secret partner is and he can sell your half for you.” Marc’s attention went back to his cake.
Maren was bewildered by this news, distressed by its implication. During the voyage, Eric had not mentioned the fancy gambling house that her father had owned so she had assumed it had been sold. With Lady Luck earning money, how could Eric claim her parents had lacked income for nearly a year? She could not help but wonder if this partnership of her father’s was why Eric had come for her. He couldn’t sell the gambling house without the consent of the unknown partner. Other questions now troubled her. Had Eric given her the necklace to win her favor so she might agree to sell Lady Luck? And just who was this partner? Why had her father never revealed that he had one? Secrecy was foreign to him, so there had to be a good reason for his resorting to it.
Lady Luck was a beautiful gambling establishment, and a prosperous one. Or it had been before she’d left New Orleans. Perhaps the war had left people with little or no money with which to gamble. If not, Lady Luck could be the answer to all of her problems.
She had to discover why Eric had been silent about this part of her inheritance. Unless Lady Luck was bankrupt, she was not penniless or homeless. She had been to the gambling house many times with her father, during the day when he checked on business and once at night when her father had received an urgent summons from the manager, Dan Myers. On that occasion she had been told to remain in her father’s private suite, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. From behind the curtain that concealed the stairway, she had watched people gamble and listen to music. The crowd had been dressed in fine clothes, the ladies had worn jewels, and everyone there had had plenty of money to spend. In later years, Maren had learned every game of chance, and she could probably beat most card players. To the rear of the first floor were the living quarters of Mary Malone, the cook and head housekeeper. Upstairs were two spacious apartments, one for the manager, Dan Myers, and one for the owner’s use. She wondered if the other partner had ever stayed there. A place to live, she mused, and a way to earn money….
“Are you worried about something, Maren?” her companion asked as he devoured a second dessert. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Maren decided not to question Marc further about Lady Luck, and she hoped he would forget he had mentioned it to her. She wanted to find out what Eric would say, what he would do, about the gambling house. And she wanted to find a way to visit it, secretly. There were some things she needed to learn from Dan Myers and Mary Malone, preferably before Eric approached her about selling the place. She was disappointed because she’d thought Eric had really changed for the better. They had been friends, were relatives; and her parents had done a great deal for him. How could he betray her in this selfish way? If Eric was up to mischief, she wanted him to reveal it. “I was just thinking.”
Marc’s next words dashed her plans. “About selling Lady Luck?”
Knowing Marc worshipped his brother and wasn’t too intelligent, Maren cleverly replied, “Eric must have wanted the news about Lady Luck to remain a secret for a while. I don’t think we should mention it to him.”
Fearing he had exposed one of his brother’s secrets, Marc urged, “Please don’t tell him I slipped up. He would be mad at me.” To himself Marc added, He might order that Horben Wolfe to beat me up again. Marc James was terrified of the ghostly-eyed man.
“I won’t mention that you told me about Lady Luck,” she promised.
“Thank you, Maren,” he said, his expression and tone almost frantic. Maren noticed how upset he was, and she wondered about that later.
After dinner, Maren returned to her suite. As she paced the floor in deep thought, it struck her that if things were as bad as her cousin claimed, Eric would not have the money to pay for this costly suite. Why had he lied? On the ship, Eric had said he wanted to be rich and important. Had he seized her inheritance to obtain his desires?
Maren hated being suspicious of her cousin, but his explanations did not ring true. If she asked him to clarify the contradictions, he would think she was calling him a liar and a thief, and she knew from past observations that it riled Eric James to be doubted, questioned, or cornered. If she pressed him, he would only become silent or bitter, and she would learn nothing. Her parents had taught her to be persistent and clever, so she decided an investigation was in order. But it must be done gingerly and slowly.
Maren stripped off her clothes and put them away. Having donned a pale green batiste nightgown, she blew out the lamps in her suite, except one. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the changing light as the full moon bathed the room in a soft glow. Only a few muted noises reached her ears, and she became aware of the gentle breeze ruffling the curtains on all windows. She walked to the French doors in the bedroom, and found that they overlooked a lush garden. A waist-high decorative railing acted as a window guard, and she leaned against it.
Glancing skyward, Maren found the heaven filled with twinkling stars. Somewhere beneath them, Jared Morgan was probably sailing the seas as Captain Hawk. She had had time to reflect on her behavior with him, and she wondered what he must think of her. She had thrown herself at him on two occasions, and would have done worse if Eric had not hurried her away from Jamaica. No doubt women did the same everywhere Jared went! Nonetheless, Maren believed that she had handled herself badly, and she fretted over the impression she had made.
Vexed with herself, she recalled that after Jared had attacked and robbed the ship upon which she was traveling, she had practically ravished him on the floor like some rutting wench. And when he had thought he was a stranger to her! That certainly explained why he had been so eager to get her into his room, not the romantic reasons she had invented. If they met again, what could she say and do to correct Ja
red’s dreadful opinion of her? How would she explain Captain Hawk’s arrival to Eric? How would she explain her lies to Jared?
From that time years ago when she had met Jared, as a wharf rat, Maren knew he lived in Savannah and had crops to export, unless his family had sold or lost the Morgan plantation. Of course he might have turned to privateering because crops were trapped ashore by the blockade. She wondered what Jared’s family was like, wondered if she would ever meet them. She had to be patient!
“A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Maren James,” she chided. “What would Mama do to extricate herself?”
Eric arrived shortly after breakfast with unexpected news. “I thought you might want to visit your parents’ graves this morning. I had them buried close by in this parish. I also thought you would want to go through the things left from the plantation. They’re in one of my storehouses. I had the servants pack them, and I assume some of that stuff is yours. Are you up to such a task this soon, little cousin?”
“The sooner I get it over with, the better. But do you have time to take me? I’ll need the support of a family member in such a difficult moment.”
“That’s why I’m here, Maren. I wouldn’t let you face something like this alone. And we have another matter to discuss later,” he hinted.
“What is it?” she asked, surmising it concerned Lady Luck and dreading that conversation.
“One thing at a time, little cousin,” he replied evasively.
Due to high ground levels of water and to flooding, few people were buried in New Orleans. Most coffins rested in mausoleums or were encased above ground, one atop another.
Eric pulled Maren away from the white mausoleum which held her parents’ bodies. “They’re at peace, Maren; let them go.”
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