The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  He smiled. Did he notice her discomfort? She tried to look down, but his finger held her head in place.

  He brushed his thumb over her cheek, and Hope closed her eyes. Then he released her, and she heard him take a step back. She thanked God because her knees had begun to shake, and she wasn’t sure she could remain standing much longer with Nathaniel so near. Placing her hands behind her, she braced against the bulkhead and dared to gaze up at him.

  Just in time to see his lips lowering to hers.

  Gasping, Hope flattened her back against the wood, but there was no escape. Lord, help me, her plea for strength screamed through her mind. She turned her face away. “We shouldn’t.”

  He blinked, and one eyebrow rose in an incredulous arch. Stepping back, he scrubbed the cloth over his damp hair. “And why shouldn’t we?” His tone carried no anger, only curiosity.

  Despite the yearning storming through her body, Hope gathered her resolve. “Because we are not courting. Or ever will be courting. You have made that quite plain. And I wish to save my affections for the man I plan to marry.” There, she had said it, albeit too fast and perhaps a bit too sharply. But at least she had said the right thing—had done the right thing—and not leapt into his arms and received his kisses like every ounce of her body longed to do.

  A grin lifted one corner of his lips. “’Tis a new philosophy of yours?”

  “And one which I intend to live my life by. God has shown me a better way.” And it had to be God who was giving her the strength to resist Nathaniel at the moment, for her attraction to him seemed only to have grown.

  “He has?” Nathaniel laughed. “Indeed, I am pleased to hear it.”

  He turned away from her and tossed the cloth to the table, sending his muscles rippling across his back like swells over a stormy sea. When he faced her again, the respect, the love she had craved to see beaming from his eyes poured over her like warm sunshine. Hope swallowed and threw a hand to her heart to steady its chaotic beat. “You are pleased?” Her voice squeaked.

  He smiled, that mischievous, sultry half grin that set her body aflame. Flustered, she dropped her gaze to the fading wound on his arm and then to the bluish scar marring his left side. She must divert the conversation to a safer topic, away from the possibility she saw in his eyes—the possibility that caused her hopes to soar, the possibility that would leave her devastated once again if she entertained its promise. He had made it clear how he felt about her. Nothing had changed. And she mustn’t think otherwise. “What happened to you?”

  He followed her gaze to his scar and rubbed it. “I was stabbed.”

  “Stabbed? Oh my.” Hope took a step toward him.

  “When I was young.” His jaw stiffened. “I was protecting my mother.”

  Hope nearly stumbled at the pain burning in his eyes. “Your mother. From whom?”

  “A man she displeased,” he spat out, then stared out the porthole. “She was a harlot.”

  A harlot? How could such an honorable man have such a wayward mother? The ship creaked over a wave, and Hope gripped the bulkhead, but Nathaniel kept his balance without effort. The muscles in his face twitched, and his mouth flattened into a thin line, his anger keeping him firmly planted to the deck.

  “And your father?”

  “I never knew him.” He snorted. “My mother thought he was a mason by trade, so she named me Nathaniel Mason.” His laughter shook with suppressed fury.

  Hope’s heart collapsed. “I’m sorry.” At least Hope had known her father, though he’d been anything but loving. At least she had a legitimate name, a heritage she could be proud of.

  Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair and faced her.

  Hope took another step toward him. “What happened to her?” She longed to ease his pain, to smooth the tight lines of sorrow from his face.

  He leaned back on the table and gripped the edges, then stared at the dirty floorboards. “We lived in Barbados. When I was eight, my mother grew sick. We had no money. So I moved her down by the beach on the east side of the island.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “’Tis where I learned how to fish and build a hut. Those were good times.” He smiled, but then grief consumed the momentary joy lighting his face. “Mother got well again, and with the money she made, we traveled to Charles Towne. She had heard the ratio of men to women was four to one. Good odds for someone in her trade.” He snickered. “We lived in a room above a tavern. Plenty of men had enough coin to pay, but some were vicious, even cruel to my mother. They beat her.”

  “You stayed in the room with her?” Hope’s eyes burned with tears as she stepped closer to Nathaniel.

  “When I was little, yes. But later I would wander the town for hours while she worked. One night, I returned to find a man holding a knife to my mother’s neck. When I attacked him, he stabbed me and ran off.”

  Hope reached out and eased her fingers over the scar as tears spilled from her eyes. “How horrible.”

  He grabbed her hand and held it. “Odd, it still pains me at times.”

  Hope nodded, remembering how often he’d rubbed it on the island. “Whenever you feel threatened.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened, and he ran his fingers through the loose strands of her hair, brushing them back from her face. “You tug your hair for the same reason. I hate it that Lord Villemont hurt you.”

  Hope shifted away from his discerning gaze. “’Tis done with.” She sighed. “But you never told me what happened to your mother.”

  “Mother grew sick again after that. We had no money for a physician.” Releasing her hand, he stared off, his eyes glazed. “I could not help her. I watched her die.”

  Hope swallowed. “So much pain for such a young boy.” She eased beside him. “How did you survive?”

  “I wandered the streets for a year before Reverend Halloway found me and took me in.” The haggard lines on his face softened. “You know the rest.”

  Hope leaned against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I had no idea,” she muttered. No wonder he had been repulsed by her licentiousness. No wonder he feared entangling himself with a woman like her. Heat from his skin warmed her cheek, and she could no longer hold back her tears.

  “Don’t cry for me, Hope. God gave me a good home, and Reverend Halloway loved me as a father.” He pressed her against him and leaned his chin atop her head.

  Hope pushed away from him, swiping the tears from her face. “That’s precisely why I wish to open an orphanage when I return home. Think of it, Nathaniel. A place for children like you to grow up and receive all the care they need and be taught about God’s love and grace.”

  He flinched, and a spark of fear dashed across his face. “’Tis a noble venture for you, and I lo—admire—you greatly for it.”

  Hope’s throat constricted. Though he had not said it, his cutting tone spoke volumes. He had no interest in her plans. Which meant he did not see her in his future. Which meant he did not love her—at least not in the way she loved him. A heavy weight landed on her chest. “Your admiration is all I ever wanted, Nathaniel.” She forced a smile. “And much more than I deserve.”

  “Is it all you ever wanted?” He cocked his head and grinned.

  She studied him, her heart performing a traitorous leap. “Nay. But it is all I dare to expect. You have made your feelings clear.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “I have fought them, to be sure.” He caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand. “But the only thing clear to me now is that I love you, Hope.”

  Hope’s heart thundered. “You love me?”

  “Is it so inconceivable?” He chuckled.

  Hope stared into his eyes, waiting for him to recall his words, deny their veracity, waiting for the jest to play out before she dared to believe it true. A nervous giggle spilled from her lips.

  Nathaniel raised a brow. “Am I to be left standing here with no answer but your laughter?”

  “No, of course not. I love you, too, Nathaniel.” She leapt
toward him, inadvertently kicking the empty basket across the deck just as he took a step in her direction. He tripped on the basket and stumbled across the cabin. Hope threw a hand to her mouth, praying she would not injure him again. He regained his balance, lengthened his stance, and faced her. “Still trying to kill me, eh?” He grinned.

  Placing one hand on her waist, Hope gave him a coy grin. “I am a determined lady.” She approached him and gently touched the bump on his forehead, where she’d caused him to slam into the bulkhead, then ran her fingers down the scar on his arm, the one from the sword fight with the major. “Truly, I don’t know what comes over me when you are around.”

  “I hope that whatever it is, it will diminish, for I plan to be around you as much as possible.”

  “But I am a danger to you.” She pouted.

  “That you are.” He swung her around, eased her against the bulkhead, and flung a hand upon the hard wood by her head. “Extremely dangerous.”

  His gaze wandered to her lips.

  Hope smiled. “Why do I feel as though I’m the one in danger now?”

  He chuckled, and she felt his warm breath on her face. Then his lips were on hers, caressing, loving her. And the cabin around Hope faded into a dream world—a world where she was safe, secure, and loved.

  ***

  With Hope’s sweet kiss still warm on his lips, Nathaniel leapt upon the deck, lighter and more vigorous than he’d been in days, despite his lack of sleep. He made his way up to the bow of the ship, hoping the night breeze would cool his heated skin. It took every scrap of strength within him to leave Miss Hope for the night. He had the perfect excuse to stay, after all, with the captain prowling about, but if he stayed with her after declaring his love, he doubted he could keep from holding her close throughout the entire night. And that would not be wise—for either of them.

  Gripping the railing, he bowed his head and thanked God for saving Hope, for changing her heart, and for her love. He still found it hard to believe she returned his affections, especially in light of her obvious attachment to Gavin. But Nathaniel could not deny that her heart belonged to him—he’d seen love burning in her eyes and felt her impassioned response to his kisses. Heat scorched through him at the remembrance.

  He had loved Hope from the first moment he’d seen her in Charles Towne, despite the way she snubbed him, despite the salacious rumors spreading throughout the city about her that he had prayed were not true. But now after giving up his prize ship to save her and after all the harrowing events of their journey, as well as his own misgivings about her character, they had finally declared their love for one another. And he vowed to spend the rest of his life giving her all the love she had missed as a child and protecting her from every danger and heartache.

  The moon hung high in the sky, smiling down upon him and flinging its sparkling light onto the rolling dark waves. The soothing purl of water as the bow sliced through the sea washed over Nathaniel, releasing from his shoulders a burden of tension he’d been carrying for weeks. Swerving around, he found a level place near the foremast beside a huge barrel and lay down on the hard deck. Putting one hand behind his head, he gazed up at the sails fluttering in the moonlight and drifted to sleep.

  Hours later, thumping noises jolted him awake, and he rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet, ready to defend against some unknown attack. A flash of blue caught his eye, and he glanced to the main deck below, where he saw Hope standing near the railing, her blond hair a beacon in the darkness. A dark shadow loomed beside her.

  Alarm stiffened Nathaniel. Was someone accosting her? He dashed to the foredeck ladder, intending to pounce upon the villain, when the figure took Hope in a full embrace—and she did not resist. Slinking into the shadows, Nathaniel rubbed his eyes and peered toward the couple, his heart crumbling in his chest. Perhaps it wasn’t Hope after all? Yet after several seconds, in which the lovers remained entwined, the woman broke away, stepped into the lantern light, offered the man a tender smile, and descended down the companionway. Hope. Nathaniel’s legs betrayed him, and he stumbled.

  The man leaned over the railing, and Nathaniel allowed his anger to surge, overcoming his grief. “Who goes there?” he shouted. Whoever it was, he would pound him to the timbers for touching Hope.

  The figure turned, allowing the light of a lantern swinging at the foremast to spill over him. Gavin’s sharp eyes met his. “Ah, Nathaniel. There you are. Enduring another sleepless night, I see.”

  Shaking the shock from his face, Nathaniel leapt down the foredeck ladder. “Was that Hope I just saw?” He needed to hear it from the man’s lips.

  Gavin studied him for a moment, then clapped his back and winked. “Aye. We had quite an evening.”

  “Evening?” Nathaniel fisted his hands.

  “Aye. You told me I could court her, did you not?” Gavin stretched his arms out like a man quite content with life.

  Nathaniel stared at his friend. His tongue had gone numb, along with the rest of him.

  “Well, I daresay, the woman moves quick.” Gavin chuckled.

  Nathaniel moaned.

  “Are you ill, my friend?” Gavin grabbed his arm. “Do you need some water?”

  “Are you saying that you and Miss Hope, you...”

  Gavin grinned like a cat who had just been fed a satisfying meal after a long fast. He glanced across the deck, then leaned toward Nathaniel. “And she was far better than I expected.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “Hoist the Union Jack, if you please, Mr. Drury,” Captain Poole bellowed as Hope climbed onto the main deck. A burst of moist wind swirled around her, taunting her with the scent of flowers and musky earth. Making her way to the railing, she shielded her eyes from the sun and peered into the distance where a mound floated upon the horizon like a tortoise shell upon liquid turquoise. Jamaica. They had made it.

  Swerving about, she surveyed the ship and spotted Nathaniel upon the quarterdeck, speaking to Abigail. No jealous twinge gripped her at the sight of them together, for she finally knew where his true feelings lay. When his gaze met hers, she waved, but instead of returning her smile and dashing to join her, he frowned and turned his back. Her chest tightened. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her.

  Clutching her skirts and ignoring the pirates’ salacious stares, she started for the quarterdeck ladder when Gavin jumped in front of her, blocking her way.

  “You look lovely this morning, Hope.” He winked and gave her one of his saucy smiles.

  “Thank you, Gavin, but if you please.” Hope tried to nudge him aside, but it was like attempting to push an aged tree trunk from its deep roots. “I need to speak with Nathaniel.”

  “Indeed?” Gavin scratched his whiskers and gave her a puzzled look. “Can it not wait? Miss Elise is asking for you.”

  Hope tensed. “She is? Is she well?”

  “Yes, quite, but Mr. Hendrick requests your help in dressing her for the trip ashore.” His blue eyes would not meet her gaze.

  “I doubt it, Gavin.” Hope huffed. “Mr. Hendrick’s hatred for me is no secret. He has not required my assistance since we boarded this ship. Why would he require it now?”

  Gavin shrugged. “I’m just relaying his message.”

  Hope studied her friend and pursed her lips. “Is this another one of your tricks, Mr. Keese?”

  “You wound me, milady.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Are we reduced to Mr. Keese again?”

  Hope forced back a smile. “You know what I am referring to. Last night?” She raised a questioning brow.

  “I did hear Miss Elise crying and would swear upon my mother’s grave I saw her up here on deck.” A spark of mischief flashed across his eyes. “I hope you’ll forgive me for waking you so late, but since you have such a good rapport with the girl, I didn’t know who else to turn to. She wouldn’t come when I called to her. Out of fright, I suspect, and her father was nowhere to be found.”

  “Yet she was not on deck, after all, but sound asleep in her cabin.” Hope
glared at him. “With her father, I might add.”

  “They were not there when I went to wake you.” A blast of wind wafted over them, and Gavin shook his hair from his face, then leaned toward her, a pleading frown playing upon his lips. “Oh, do say you’ll forgive me.”

  Hope huffed then cast a quick glance toward Nathaniel, still busy with Abigail. If Elise really did need her, Hope wanted to be of assistance. Especially since she’d not seen much of the girl since they’d boarded the ship. “Very well. Lead me to her.”

  With a smile, he held out his arm, and taking it, Hope followed him below.

  ***

  Turning his back on Hope, Nathaniel tried to quell the anguish ripping through his belly and listen to what Abigail was saying. But though her lips fluttered rapidly, naught but garbled tones met his ears.

  “Are you listening to me?” She peered into his eyes.

  “Forgive me. I was distracted.” Nathaniel ran a hand over the back of his neck where a nagging ache refused to abate. An ache not caused from sleeping on the hard deck, but one that had spread upward from his wounded heart.

  Abigail glanced over his shoulder. “Hope waved at you.”

  Nathaniel stiffened his jaw and shifted his gaze to Captain Poole standing by the helm. A group of pirates crowded around him in deep discussion.

  Abigail persisted. “I thought you two had come to an understanding.”

  “So did I.” Nathaniel released a pained sigh, then followed Abigail’s gaze over his shoulder. He regretted it instantly as he watched Gavin and Hope descend the companionway, arm in arm. He faced forward again. His gut wrenched, and he thought he might lose the hard biscuit he’d forced down that morning. After no sleep. Yet again.

  “I’m sorry, Nathaniel.” Abigail’s brow wrinkled. “She doesn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Nathaniel grimaced and studied the gouges and bloodstains marring the deck by his feet and wondered how many battles this ship had seen and how many men had died upon these oak planks. Anything to divert his thoughts from Hope and the questions that had tortured his mind throughout the dark hours of the night. He knew he must speak to her, must give her a chance to explain, but he wasn’t ready to hear her answer.