The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  Hope recoiled, anger throbbing through her veins. “Oh, you did, did you? And you assumed what? That he and I were engaged in a tryst? That I proclaimed my love for you, kissed you in our cabin, then dashed straightaway into Gavin’s arms?”

  “I didn’t need to assume. I was told.” Nathaniel gripped the railing and thrust his face into the wind.

  Told? The ship lurched, and Hope stared at a belaying pin near the railing, searching her mind for an explanation. A dull, empty ache began to gnaw at her soul. Everything blurred beneath the tears filling her eyes.

  “Besides, I saw it with my own eyes, Hope.” He glared at her, hard as stone. “Can you deny it?”

  How could he think so little of her? How could she convince him otherwise when he had already made up his mind? She swung her hand to slap his face, but he caught it in midair.

  She ripped her hand from his grasp.

  “Hard to starboard!” The thumping of feet sounded like war drums across the deck.

  Nathaniel drew a deep breath but kept his lips stiff as taut ropes. “I wish you the best, Miss Hope, and I shall pray for you.”

  “I do not want your prayers,” she spat as anger crowded out her pain.

  “You are a difficult woman.”

  “And you are a judgmental, merciless clod.”

  The golden flecks in his eyes simmered. He pushed himself from the railing and tipped his head in her direction. “Then I shall bid you good day.” Turning his back to her once again, he stomped away.

  Facing the sea, Hope batted away the tears spilling down her cheeks. Her heart plummeted to the dark depths below the ship. What a fool she’d been to entertain the hope of gaining such a noble man’s love. Not someone like her.

  Never someone like her.

  She clung to the railing as the ship rounded the tip of the headland and sailed into the bay.

  “Ready the gun!”

  The Lord had forgiven her of her past, of all her sins. Not only that, He had completely forgotten them.

  “Ready, fire!” The thunderous boom of a cannon roared across the sky, announcing their arrival and sending a quiver through Hope.

  The Lord had forgotten her past. But Nathaniel never would.

  CHAPTER 33

  Nathaniel thrust his oar into the swirling water and pushed with all his strength, sending the jolly boat gliding across the bay. Hanson, Kreggs, Gavin, and two of Captain Poole’s pirates rowed along with him, three on each side of the narrow craft. Water gurgled along the hull and splashed cool drops onto his feet and breeches. He shook the hair from his face and tried to avoid looking at Miss Hope, perched like a delicate flower on the bow thwarts, her loose curls glittering like gold, her chin raised, her arms around Miss Elise, who snuggled in her lap.

  Nathaniel’s gut churned as he remembered the pain on her face when he had dismissed her affections so ardently, the tears spilling down her cheeks, the life fading from her eyes. It had been almost too much to bear. Almost, for he had nearly taken her in his arms, nearly showered her with kisses of forgiveness. But then he pictured her in Gavin’s embrace, receiving Gavin’s kisses. And the blood froze in his veins.

  Shaking the vision from his mind, he shifted his eyes to Abigail sitting beside Hope. The young woman’s rueful eyes had been locked upon the receding pirate ship ever since they had shoved off from its hull. But one glance behind him had told Nathaniel it was not the ship but her captain who had Abigail so captivated, for Captain Poole stood at the main deck railing, returning her gaze with equal fervor.

  One of the pirates plunged his oar into the water, sending a spray over the major.

  “Be careful, you bumbling fool,” Major Paine brayed and swatted at his damp, bedraggled shirt.

  “Back to your old self so quickly, Major?” Gavin remarked, drawing a snarl from the man.

  Mr. Hendrick moaned and gripped his midsection, his eyes upon the steady shore and what he must consider the only salvation from his riotous stomach.

  Gavin and Nathaniel exchanged a knowing smile, both happy to be rid of the portentous merchantman and the obnoxious major.

  Nathaniel dipped his oar in the water again as a swift breeze blew over him, bringing with it the smells of the port: stale fish, roasted pork, and horse manure. The scents brought him comfort, reminding him of Charles Towne. His ship, the Illusive Hope, floated in the bay, and his excitement soared at the sight of her dark hull and sharp lines. His last remaining ship—named after the woman who had not only stolen his other ship, but his heart as well. The sooner he set sail for Charles Towne, the sooner he could be rid of Miss Hope.

  Once the jolly boat reached shore and disgorged its passengers, Captain Poole’s pirates returned to the ship. Hanson, Boone, and Jones approached Nathaniel, their gap-toothed smiles reflecting their appreciation.

  “We thank ye again, Mr. Mason, fer openin’ our eyes to the truth,” Hanson said.

  “’Twas my pleasure, gentlemen.” Nathaniel shook their hands in turn and bade them farewell as they scampered down the dock and onto the main street to their new life. Only Kreggs remained behind.

  Nathaniel led them down the pier to Harbor Street and glanced across the bustling town. After the earthquake had destroyed Port Royal in 1692, the survivors had moved here to begin again. Since then, the city had grown into a major trade center. Rows of brick and wood buildings lined the dirt street; drapers, bakers, taverns, blacksmith, warehouses. People scurried across the busy street, weaving among carriages, horses, wagons, and slaves. A bell rang in the distance, the clip-clop of horses hooves, the grating of wagon wheels, myriad voices, and the far-off music of a fiddle combined in a cacophony of sounds that made Nathaniel long for the peace of their tiny island.

  A groan from behind drew him around to see Mr. Hendrick gripping his belly.

  “Elise.” He gestured for the little girl to come to him.

  She peered out at her father from within the blue folds of Hope’s skirts and lifted a pleading gaze to her.

  Hope gave the man a venomous look. “Where will you take her, Mr. Hendrick?”

  “She is none of your concern.” He attempted to stand straight and winced. “I have business here in town and a ship that awaits us.”

  Hope knelt by the little girl. “Go with your father now.” She brushed the curls from the child’s face. “But always remember God loves you. He loves you very much. And so do I.” A tear slid down Hope’s cheek, and Nathaniel tore his gaze away, determined not to allow her kind gesture to soften his anger.

  The little girl shuffled over to her father, who took her hand and dashed off, dragging her behind him. Hope rose, wiped her face, and stared after her.

  Major Paine cleared his throat. Stripped of every insignia, regalia, and frippery save his white breeches and shirt—neither of which could be called white any longer—and with his brown hair spiraling out in all directions like a sea anemone, he looked more like a pirate than a major in His Majesty’s service. “I know we’ve had our differences, Mr. Mason, but I hope we can part with civility.”

  “If I were you, Major,” Gavin hissed, “I’d be kissing Nathaniel’s bare feet for not only saving your life but for bringing you necessities aboard the pirate ship.” He scratched his whiskers and chuckled. “’Twas more than any of us would have done.”

  “Humph.” The major glanced over the town as if anxious to leave.

  “Where will you go, Major?” Abigail asked.

  “I am to report to the fort to procure passage to England. No doubt they anxiously await my arrival.” His gaze sped to the bay. “And first on my list of duties will be to inform them of the presence of a certain pirate. I am sure the authorities here in Kingstown will take proper care of Captain Poole.”

  Hope took a step toward him. “How can you? He saved your life.”

  Major Paine’s gaze took her in from head to toe, causing Nathaniel’s blood to boil. “’Tis my duty, miss, and what separates me from men devoid of honor.” He waved a hand in G
avin’s direction.

  Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Then you had better attend to your invidious task, Major, for I believe the Enchantress sets sail.” He nodded toward the harbor and grinned.

  White sails rose like handkerchiefs waving farewell on the ship’s masts, and foam caressed her hull as she picked up speed near the mouth of the bay.

  Nathaniel gave a mock bow. “The best to you, Major.”

  With a lift of his nose, the major turned on his heel. He stumbled on a rock as he sauntered away, a curse blowing on the wind in his wake.

  “He will escape, will he not?” Abigail bit her lip as she stared at the Enchantress.

  “Never fear.” Nathaniel gave her a curious look. “Captain Poole shall be long gone before the major makes his grand entrance into the fort.”

  Abigail smiled, but her expression suddenly sank. “I must part ways with you here as well.”

  Dashing to her side, Hope gripped her hands. “Can’t you come with us to Charles Towne? Oh, say that you will!”

  “Nay, my dear friend.” Abigail’s eyes glistened. “My place is here.” She looked at Nathaniel. “I know it now.”

  Assurance and conviction shone from Abigail’s eyes, and Nathaniel gave her a nod of understanding. “So you are no longer afraid?”

  She glanced toward the ship, almost clearing the headland. “A certain pirate convicted me of my fears and reminded me to keep my eyes on God.”

  Gavin snorted.

  Abigail turned back toward Hope and squeezed her hands. “We shall always be friends.”

  “Always.” Hope sobbed. “You have been my only friend. You spoke the truth to me when I refused to hear it. You sat by my side when I was sick. Your words of God changed my heart.”

  Abigail cast a quick glance at Nathaniel. “So I have been told. I am most pleased to hear it. Please say you’ll visit sometime.”

  “I shall make every attempt.” Hope swallowed, agony brimming in her eyes.

  Nathaniel shifted his gaze away. Why did the blasted woman always cause his heart to wrench? “Do you need an escort to the reverend’s house?” he asked Abigail. “It isn’t safe to walk these streets alone.”

  “I’ll be happy t’ take her,” Kreggs said.

  Nathaniel gave him a questioning look.

  “I wouldn’t mind talkin’ to a reverend. Mebbe even workin’ fer him if he’ll have me.”

  Nathaniel scratched his head, still amazed at the sailor’s transformation. “Very well. Miss Sheldon, would you mind?”

  “Of course not.” Abigail smiled at Kreggs then turned to Gavin. “Mr. Keese, ’tis been a pleasure.”

  Gavin took her hand and laid a kiss upon it.

  Abigail swept a loving gaze over Hope and Nathaniel as tears filled her eyes. “I shall see you all again.” Turning, she took Kreggs’s outstretched arm, and together they made their way down the dusty street.

  Gavin shifted his bare feet over the sand and balled his hands into fists. His eyes flittered about the town, giving Nathaniel pause. He’d never seen the man so agitated.

  “Are we to go to your ship now?” Hope’s shaky voice pricked his guilt. “That is, if you still wish to escort me home.” Though she had suffered the loss of a good friend, the loss of Elise, and Nathaniel’s rejection, Hope carried herself with a humble strength that only increased his ardor for her.

  “I am a man of my word, Miss Hope.” He stiffened the lines of his face so as not to express the emotions battling within him and turned to Gavin. “And what are your plans?”

  “At the moment, I have none.” Gavin’s customary joviality returned.

  “Then join us.” Nathaniel hoped he would, for he could not bear to be alone with Hope. “I am to meet my first mate at the Stuffed Boar.”

  “A tavern?” Gavin rubbed his hands together. “I do believe I will.”

  Nathaniel started to offer Hope his arm, but instead he pulled away from her and marched toward the tavern, leaving her in Gavin’s company. Each thud of his feet over the hot sand reminded him of the time not too long ago when he’d barreled toward another tavern in another port town, Miss Hope in tow, having sold half his fleet to save her life. At least this time he hadn’t lost a ship on her behalf.

  Entering the dim tavern saturated with the stench of rum and sweat, Nathaniel wiped his forehead on his arm. His bare feet landed in a sticky pool on the floor. Making his way through the maze of tables, he peered into the shadows, searching for his first mate and friend, Richard Ackon.

  Hope gasped. No doubt she had stepped into the same slimy puddle that he had. He heard Gavin hastening to her aid, his indulgent ministrations causing Nathaniel’s stomach to fold.

  A boardinghouse as well as a tavern, the Stuffed Boar was accustomed to having feminine clientele, yet that did not prevent the lewd calls and whistles sent Hope’s way from the men scattered about the room. Nathaniel longed to grab Hope and draw her near to keep her safe, but that was no longer his job. ’Twas Gavin’s for the time being, and after him, the next man who took his place. Besides, Nathaniel had heard she frequented these types of places in Charles Towne and no doubt knew how to handle herself.

  After determining that Richard was nowhere in sight, Nathaniel chose a table in the back, kicked out a chair, and sat down. The man would show up sooner or later, and Nathaniel could use a drink. Gavin took a seat across from him and led Hope to a chair between them; then he went to purchase their drinks.

  An awkward silence fell upon them as if they’d been plunged underwater, even muting the boisterousness of the men around them. A lantern in the middle of the table flickered its light over Hope’s face, and Nathaniel dared a glance into those deep blue eyes. Though laden with sorrow, they returned his gaze with the same passion, the same affection, the same yearning he felt inside. He shifted away as he heard her gasp.

  He looked at her again. Her eyes wide, her mouth open, she stared at someone who had just entered the tavern. She began to tremble. She raised a hand to her throat and seemed to be having trouble breathing.

  Nathaniel laid his hand upon her arm. “Hope, what is it?” He followed her gaze to the doorway, where a man of medium build stood, plumed hat in one hand, cane hanging on his other arm. Jewels decorating his fingers sparkled in the lantern light from beneath heavy lace at his cuffs. His satin waistcoat and breeches bespoke either great wealth or ostentatious pride, and he perused the room with haughty disdain as if he owned the place.

  Hope panted out a ragged breath. “Lord Falkland.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Hope stared at the man standing before her, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

  When Lord Falkland insisted upon speaking to her in private, she nodded her assent. A spark of apprehension filled Nathaniel’s eyes before he frowned and dashed across the gloomy room as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Gavin, on the other hand, barely looked her way. Instead, he and Falkland exchanged a glance that caused Hope’s nerves to tighten even further before he joined Nathaniel.

  As the shock of seeing him faded into a raging fury, she regretted agreeing to speak with him.

  Feeling returned to her legs, and Hope slowly rose. With one hand perched on his hip, Falkland slid his fingers over the gold trim of his waistcoat and studied her. His dark hair was pulled back and tied with one of his gaudy bows—this one a bright purple that matched the satin of his waistcoat. He tugged at his white cravat.

  “My dear, I must say I expected a more amorous greeting.” His stern jaw flexed as his green eyes scoured her, claiming his possession.

  Hope cast a quick glance at Nathaniel and Gavin leaning against the far tavern wall, their eyes peeled in her direction. “The last time I saw you, Arthur, you were walking away from me as I was being auctioned off into slavery. What are you doing here?”

  “I came for you.” He grinned and took a step toward her, holding out his hand.

  Hope backed away. “I urge you to keep your distance, sir, or my friends will be upon yo
u.” Moist heat suffocated her, stinging her nose with the putrid smells of the tavern.

  Lord Falkland cast a dismissive glance at Gavin and Nathaniel and chuckled. “Harmless rodents, by all appearances.” He pouted. “And when did you begin to call me sir again, my sweet one?”

  Hope cringed at the sound of Falkland’s pet name for her. “I don’t know what your true purpose is for being here, nor do I care. But if you think to make amends for what you did, you are sorely mistaken.” Belying her outward composure, she grabbed a loose curl at her neck and tugged upon it. Lord, help me. Why are You doing this to me? She had at one time hoped with all her heart that she would see this man once more. Now that he stood before her, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

  His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “You have changed. You are stronger. More defiant.” He raised one brow and leaned toward her. “I find it quite alluring.”

  Hope’s stomach knotted. “Did you expect me to run into your arms?”

  “You are beautiful.” He brushed a knuckle against her cheek, but she jerked out of his reach. He frowned. “Will you at least hear my explanation?”

  “Pray, get on with it.”

  “I did not abandon you to the fate you assume.” He laid his cane atop the table with a clank and straightened the cuffs of his sleeves. “Do you remember Mr. Garrison?”

  A vision of the stocky, puffy-faced man at the auction block came to Hope’s mind, renewing her revulsion and fear. “The merchant who nearly purchased me? How did you...?”

  Arthur smiled.

  Hope blinked. “He was your man?”

  “Yes. And I paid him quite handsomely to purchase you. All money lost, of course.” He sighed and patted his money pouch like an old friend.

  The jangle of coins grated over Hope. Her mind reeled, and she gulped for a breath of fresh air, not the stagnant muck that infiltrated the tavern. “For what purpose?”

  “To keep you safe, of course. Captain Grainer had his heart set on selling you. Though I tried desperately to dissuade him, I could not.” He shrugged. “My only other option was to purchase you myself. And my plan would have worked, too, if that poor excuse for a hero”—he pointed toward Nathaniel—“hadn’t swept in to the rescue.”