Cross Bones

by Editor Anne Regan

  I had never wanted for a nighttime companion when the needs of the flesh grew too strong to be denied, but it was a lonely life. I watched my captain, a man I would have followed into the depths of hell at no more than a word, with his boyhood love, finally happy, finally together after years of infrequent visits and worry that each parting might be their last. With all that Red had done for me, I could begrudge him nothing, but his happiness had been salt on a wound left behind by the injured man who now occupied my bed, a constant reminder that once I too had loved.

  To be fair, Jacob had never known that I loved him. I hadn’t said the words, not aloud. Jacob, so beautiful, so proud, so terrified of being found out, though he could scarcely keep his eyes off me the day I joined the crew of the Red Scourge. His eyes were fierce, and they’d burned into me with an intensity I’d not felt before or since. Back then, Jacob could heat my blood to boiling with only a look. And the very first time he touched me, I knew there would never be anything closer to heaven for one such as me than his hands on my body, his mouth against mine.

  I reached out to trace the lines of his brows, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose. I’d been there the day it was broken, when he’d intervened in a scuffle involving three deckhands and gotten a punch in the face and a blow to his stomach for his trouble. With so many men living together at such close quarters, fights were commonplace. Tempers ran high and emotions were strained, the threat of violence always hovering a hair’s breadth below the surface, growing thicker as weeks passed and our stores remained empty, our raids few and far between with the presence of the Royal Navy so strong.

  But that day stayed with me for more reasons than one. That morning he’d been injured in the fight; that afternoon the Red Scourge had come under attack by the Executioner, an enemy ship, and by that evening he’d been taken from me. We’d not found his body floating amongst the debris. He’d vanished, and I had assumed I would never see him again, even if he had somehow survived the battle and avoided being taken prisoner. Staring down at his face, at my fingertips, which had moved to his weather-chapped lips without so much as a thought from me, the moment seemed like a dream.

  “Jacob….”

  His movement was so sudden, his eyelids flying open and a hand coming up to grasp my wrist, that I had no time to react. Before I could so much as move, those sea-colored eyes stared up at me, fierce as ever but clouded by confusion. I watched as several emotions played across his face—recognition, shock, joy, relief, puzzlement. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was no more than a garbled rasp.

  “You need water, yes?” With my free hand, I reached for the cup I’d set beside the bed earlier in the hope that he would wake before long. “Here. Drink.”

  It became clear that he couldn’t sit up on his own. I set the cup down and gently pried his fingers from my wrist, then helped him into an upright position. Once I had adjusted the pillows and made him comfortable, I pressed the cup into his palm and urged it toward his mouth. His hand shook so much I had to take it from him again. I held it up to his lips myself, and he took a sip, then another and another, almost choking in his haste. “Slowly, slowly….”

  Jacob didn’t lie back until the cup had been drained. He cleared his throat, once, twice, and opened his mouth to try to speak again. “Wh… wh-where—?”

  “Isla Sagrario,” I answered when he broke off in frustration. “We are not very far from Nueva Granada.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “What happened that day?” I asked. After having wondered for so long, the question was stronger in my mind than any other. “The day the Red Scourge was attacked. Were you taken by the Executioner?”

  “Y-yes.”

  My eyes widened. “And you were with them all this time?”

  Jacob nodded.

  “How did you escape?”

  “There was a mutiny,” Jacob rasped. “Slipped away during the fighting. Stole a boat, but I was caught in a storm. The boat was damaged and… I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “You must have washed ashore last night. We found you this morning.”

  “We? How is it possible that you are here?”

  “I will explain everything later. Food first.” I got to my feet. “There is a chamber pot beneath the bed. Do you need help to use it?”

  Jacob’s cheeks flushed red. “No.”

  “Then I will give you some time.” I gestured toward the bedroom door. “There is also a privy out back, if you wish to use that instead when you are strong enough.”

  Jacob nodded, looking so embarrassed that I left him without saying anything else.

  I stayed away long enough to retrieve the soup Red and Christopher’s cook had set aside for me, and returned to find him seated at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He glanced up as I entered the room.

  “You should try to eat some of this, but only a few bites for now, and slowly.”

  “Juan.”

  I paused in the act of setting the bowl on the stand beside the bed. I hadn’t heard my given name spoken in so long. It set off an ache deep in my gut. No one on Sagrario ever used my birth name. It was John or Black John, for the color of my eyes and hair, the clothes I wore. Sometimes Spaniard. But never Juan. Not even Red called me that.

  “Sí?”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  I stared down into the contents of the bowl, unable to look at him. “Yes. I feared the same.”

  “But I hoped I was wrong. Every day. It got me through the worst of it. The thought that one day our paths might cross again.”

  I did look at him then. “You are safe now, querido. Nothing will harm you here.”

  Jacob gave me a small, shy smile. “I’d forgotten you used to call me that. You never told me what it means.”

  I could only smile in return and shake my head. “Another time, perhaps.”

  “What is this place? I’ve never heard the name of this island before.”

  “When you’re well enough, I’ll show you. For now, eat.”

  He put up no argument as I helped him settle back into bed. That was a rare thing for the Jacob I remembered, and a sign of how tired he was, how much pain he was probably in. I fed him a few spoonfuls of the fish soup and watched him drift off to sleep again. In the morning, I would help him to bathe and shave, and maybe trim his hair. Some parts of it were so matted I doubted we could comb it through. But those thoughts could wait. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to lay my hands on him again, reassure myself that he had well and truly been returned to me.

  I placed my open palm on his chest, felt the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breaths. My Jacob. My love. Even after so many years, those feelings remained, but I couldn’t fool myself into thinking he was still the same boy I’d known. I knew, deep down, he had changed. As I had. And yet it never once occurred to me that he might not wish to stay.

  THREE days passed before Jacob was well enough for a tour of the island. When we finally left the cottage, he was clean-shaven, his hair cut to just above his chin. Despite how thin he was, my clothes would still not suit him. He was taller than me, broader in the shoulders. It had taken bits and pieces from a few different men to put together a change of clothing for him. Breeches from Red, a shirt from Jack, a pair of boots from Henry Hayes. The shirt was a bit loose, the boots were a little tight, but the breeches fit him so perfectly they proved to be a considerable distraction for me as I watched him move.

  He said little about his time on the Executioner outside of the fact that he’d been held as a prisoner on board since the destruction of the Red Scourge. I saw the scars on his back from where he’d been flogged, the marks on his wrists that could only have been caused by long periods spent in iron shackles, but he refused to speak of those things and I would not force him to relive them for the world. If ever he wanted to talk, I would listen, and I made certain to tell him so.

  I took him to Red and Chris first. Jacob had heard of the
infamous Irish Red O’Malley, so named for his thick brogue and fiery hair. Everyone on the high seas had, and like everyone, Jacob had heard the tales of Red’s murder. Stories and rumors that I had helped to spread. Jacob didn’t seem as shocked to learn that Red had faked his death as he did to see him living openly, and so obviously in love, with another man.

  As we left the house and moved toward the center of town, Jacob looked at me in confusion. “What is this place? How can they dare to live together like that? They… they made no attempt to hide….”

  “Isla Sagrario is a safe haven for men like us. Here, we no longer have to hide.”

  Jacob made a disbelieving noise. “There is no such thing. Were the navy to seize this island, they would be hanged, if not worse!”

  My heart clenched, and I looked away from him. There was no denying the truth in his words, of course, but…. “I thought you would be happy that—well, knowing it would be possible for us as well.”

  “I am not like these men,” Jacob said tightly. “I cannot delude myself into thinking there is safety here.”

  “If not here, then where? This island is the only home many of us have ever known.”

  Jacob shook his head. “It is a fantasy, nothing more. One day it will come to an end. I’ll not be here to see it.”

  It was a long time before I could bring myself to speak. “You will leave, then?”

  I felt the heat of his stare on the side of my face, even hotter than the blazing sun overhead. It sent a shiver down my back. “Yes. And so should you.”

  “But not with you.”

  “We can go together, of course. But not like that, not the way you mean. Those days are past.”

  “Not for me. It is who I am.” I kept my gaze focused on the swaying palm trees that lined the rough-hewn road ahead. “I will not go on pretending. Cannot.”

  “Juan, you were my closest friend. The thought of leaving you here does—”

  “Cristo! You can lie to yourself, Jacob, but not to me. We were never friends. What we had, it was far beyond mere friendship.”

  “Keep your voice down!”

  Taken aback, I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. “You are ashamed of me? Here of all places?”

  Jacob’s shoulders tensed. His eyes clashed with mine, turbulent as the sea during a storm. “What happened between us is no one else’s concern. It was private. Have you told them? Have you told the others?”

  “No. I have not.”

  Jacob relaxed slightly, exhaling a sigh of relief. “Good.”

  “These men would not judge you even if they did know. That is the beauty of Sagrario. There is freedom here.”

  Jacob shook his head again but said nothing.

  “Do you wish to continue with the tour?”

  “I’ll go on alone, if you don’t mind.”

  I ignored the flash of pain caused by his words. “Of course. I’ll see you at the house.”

  Jacob nodded and walked away. I watched him go, taking in the long, lean lines of his body, the graceful gait he’d always had, even when we were at sea. I committed the image of him walking away to my memory. He would leave me again, this time of his own accord. As much as it would hurt me to see him go, I would not follow. Not if it meant sacrificing a part of myself for a lifetime of hiding and secrecy. I would not do that for any man. Not even for him.

  DAYS passed too quickly, every moment more excruciating than the last. There was a supply ship coming to port, expected at the end of the month. Jacob planned to be on board when it left Sagrario. In a little more than a fortnight, he would be gone again. Every night I watched him, thought about him and the moments we’d shared, the hot press of his body on mine. I pretended not to notice him watching me in return. I ignored the effect he had on me, the fact that his mere presence had me in a near-constant state of arousal. If he wanted to uphold the pretense that there had never been anything between us, I would allow him that. But there was no denying the tension that continued to mount every time we were close to each other, a spark on a fuse, growing in intensity, moving steadily toward its inevitable, explosive conclusion.

  It was only a matter of time and then… boom.

  When it happened, it came with the power of a storm. Un huracán. Unstoppable. Unavoidable. There was rain that day and gales of wind so strong as to rip out trees by their roots and hurl them into the sky.

  We bore out the worst of it huddled in my cottage, in the smallest of my rooms, the noise from outside almost deafening. When it was over, the silence was sudden and profound. I looked at Jacob, and he stared back at me, relief written plainly on his face, and something more, something I didn’t understand until he was on me.

  We crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, his mouth covering mine, his tongue seeking entrance. I would never have denied him. I opened to him, accepted the kiss, returned it, desperate for the taste of him, the feel of his weight on me. We kissed until we were breathless, pausing only to tug off clothing and suck in lungfuls of air. Soon we were grinding together, cock to hard cock, skin slippery from the heat and humidity.

  I stopped him long enough to drag him behind me to my bedroom, where the necessities lay in the stand beside my bed. I pulled the stopper out of the bottle of oil and poured some in his palm, watched him slick his fingers and slide them into me in an all too brief caress before he replaced them with the head of his shaft and pressed himself inside.

  My body welcomed his as if we’d never been apart, relishing the sting and stretch as he seated himself to the hilt. Once he was all the way inside, he didn’t wait. He started moving, thrusting deep, his cock surging into me over and over again. My head fell back, a low moan escaping as I hiked my legs up, wrapped them around his waist, rose to meet every bone-jarring plunge. It had been so long. Too long. I’d nearly forgotten how perfect we were together, how well he fit me and I him.

  Jacob’s fingers threaded into my hair, which had come loose from the leather tie that held it in a queue at my nape. He lifted some to his face and inhaled, petting the black strands.

  “Like silk,” he said, and then his mouth was on mine. He kissed me gently, at odds with the frenzied movements of our bodies, his tongue gliding over mine in a slow, thorough exploration, as if he’d never kissed me before and might never do so again.

  My hands skimmed down his sides to grip his hips, urging him to move faster, harder. His abdomen rubbed over my shaft in time with his thrusts, the friction delicious, enough to bring me to release after a few more rough shoves. I spilled onto my own stomach, warm and slippery. Jacob slammed into me once, twice, three times more, and then went still, pressing deep for an endless moment as he spent inside me.

  He collapsed onto my chest, trembling feverishly, his face buried against the skin of my throat. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, tightening my legs to keep him trapped inside me even as he softened.

  “Querido,” I murmured into his hair. Beloved. Then, now, and for every second until I took my last breath. “Stay with me.”

  I felt him shake his head, but he was quiet for a long time. Then finally two words, no more than a whisper: “I cannot.”

  IT WAS several days before he came to me again. That time it was slow and sultry, his touch scorching, setting me aflame with lust and longing even as he filled me, moved against me. How could I bear to part with the deepest pleasure I had ever known? How could I stand to watch him go when losing him the first time had nearly destroyed me?

  I’d only just gotten him back, by some miracle of God. But he did not wish to stay, no matter how much I pleaded, no matter how well he seemed to fit in with the other men on the island. He’d developed an easy camaraderie with a few of them. I watched him smile and laugh, and felt envious only because my time with him would soon come to an end. There was no place for any other type of jealousy. He never looked at anyone else the way he did at me.

  We joined Red and Chris for dinner almost nightly. Jacob got on well with them both,
especially Chris. I thought they could be friends, if Jacob had been willing to call the island home. But he remained rigid in his decision to leave even as he grew more comfortable, allowed himself the occasional touch or lingering glance, bold with the knowledge that, at least on Sagrario, such things were permissible and would never lead to the hangman’s noose.

  Every night that I spent in his arms, every day that passed as he worked with us to build up our little town, our sanctuary, I fell more and more in love. It felt so right to have him there with me, but the end of the month drew nearer and never once did it appear that he would change his mind.

  The night before the supply ship was due, we lay twined together in my bed, the balmy breeze from the open window washing over our cooling skin. I never wanted to let him go, not that night, not ever. Though I didn’t want to miss a moment of him, of what might be our last few hours together, my body was sated and thrumming with contentment. It was easy to drift into a pleasant sleep, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the play of his fingers at the small of my back.

  The sound of yelling and the clash of metal woke me. I had no time to think, only to tug on my breeches and grab my sword before I ran out into the fray with Jacob close at my heels. There was a fire nearby, the sky painted orange by the flames. My heart jumped when I realized the smoke was coming from the direction of Red’s house. Had they found him? Had one of his long-ago enemies discovered that he still lived and come to seek revenge?

  I ran, kicking up sand with my bare feet, the hilt of my sword clutched tightly in my hand.

  “Is it the navy?” Jacob huffed from beside me.

  I could not answer him. I hadn’t the faintest idea who had attacked us or why. All I knew was that I had to reach Red and Christopher, assure myself they were still alive. There were boats hidden on the other side of the island. We could escape if need be. But they wouldn’t take Red while there was still a breath left in my body.