The Blue Enchantress

by Marylu Tyndall

  Unable to find Nathaniel, Hope had ascended the foredeck to pray and watch the sun set. Perhaps he would find her here. She hoped so, for she had many unanswered questions. What had changed his mind about her? And what was the strange ship that followed them off their larboard quarter?

  A warm, strong hand touched her shoulder. Flinching, she opened her eyes to see Nathaniel’s handsome face smiling down at her. His hungry gaze took her in like a man long deprived of sustenance. He ran his palm over her cheek.

  “Oh, Nathaniel, how can I ever thank you for saving me?” Hope’s throat burned, and she swallowed, afraid to embrace the love beaming from his eyes. She dropped her gaze to the bloodstained slash in Nathaniel’s breeches. “Once more, you risked your life for me.”

  Nathaniel stretched out his leg. “Falkland wields quite a skilled sword.”

  Hope huffed, but then a giggle escaped her lips. “The look on his face as we sailed away, leaving him foundering in the water.”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “Indeed. Especially after Captain Poole threatened to come back and finish the job.” He gazed across the darkening sea. “Have no fear. He’ll make it to Charles Towne.” He grinned. “Albeit a bit later than planned.”

  The ship bucked, and Hope gripped Nathaniel’s arm. “His welfare is of no concern to me. I hope I never see him again.” She took in a deep breath of salt-laden air, amazed at the truth of the words she’d just spoken.

  Nathaniel cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her cheek. A warm tingle swirled within her, and she took a step back. Nathaniel affected her like no other man ever had. It frightened her, for she no longer wished to give in to every impulse storming through her.

  She clutched her hands together and squinted toward the sun still sinking beneath the sea. Glittering feathers of gold and crimson spanned the choppy waves. A breeze tore a curl from her pins and fluttered it over her neck, but she no longer associated it with her inability to be pure, for God would give her all the strength she needed in that endeavor. “Falkland can still harm you.”

  “How? I’ve nothing left for him to destroy.”

  She faced him. “You still own a ship.”

  Nathaniel’s gaze slipped to the two-masted vessel behind them. A sense of longing tugged at his features.

  “Is that your ship?” Hope’s voice squeaked in disbelief. “The one that sails behind us?”

  The cloud of sorrow dissipated from his eyes, replaced by a glimmer of satisfaction. “Not anymore.”

  Hope furrowed her brow. Dread clutched her heart.

  “I gave it to Captain Poole.” He waved the ship away as if it were but a trifle.

  The words sank like anchors in her belly. “Why?” But she already knew the answer.

  “Do you think he aided in your rescue out of the goodness of his heart?” Nathaniel chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

  “What of your crew?”

  “Most of them stayed in Kingstown to find work on other ships. Some joined the pirates. All save Mr. and Mrs. Timmons and, of course, Elise.”

  Hope shrank back. “You gave up your last ship to find me when you didn’t know for certain whether I went with Falkland willingly?”

  He shrugged and gave her a playful grin. “It worked out well.”

  Hope shook her head. “You’ve lost everything because of me. And”—she glanced at the wounds on his leg and arm and the bruise on his forehead—“I’ve nearly killed you—several times.”

  Her foolish actions had caused the man she loved unthinkable pain and loss. Turning her back to him, she stormed to the railing.

  His boot steps thudded behind her. Strong hands grabbed her waist and pulled her back against him. His arms wrapped around her as his hot breath swept down the side of her neck. “Worth every timber, plank, sail, and wound.”

  Placing her hands atop his, Hope lowered her gaze to the restless sea below. Elation and fear tangled in her throat. His loving words soothed her doubts. As hard as it was to believe, Nathaniel must truly love her. Yet she couldn’t stop entertaining one fear. Why would he attach himself to a woman with her sordid past?

  “Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth.” The words Hope had read in Isaiah that afternoon eased over her. She lifted her face to the sun.

  Nathaniel turned her around to face him. Specks of gold gleamed within his dark eyes. “I love you, Hope. Why do you not believe me?”

  She swallowed, breathing in the scent of wood that always clung to him. “Nobody has ever loved me before.” Tears burned behind her eyes. “Not truly loved me.”

  He brushed a curl from her cheek. “Then allow me the privilege of being the first.” His lips met hers.

  Hope folded into his embrace, submitting to his kiss, and finally permitting herself to believe this honorable man loved her. He pressed her close, caressing her hair and kissing her with gentleness that soon rose to a hunger that matched her own. Heat exploded around her like a thousand cannons set ablaze. The ship, the sea, the sky melted away. Her knees weakened.

  Withdrawing, he hovered close to her face. His warm, musky breath tingled over her skin. For the first time, Hope longed to give herself to a man completely, wholly, for no other reason than pure love.

  But no.

  Breathless, she spun away from him, searching for her traitorous wits amidst the passion that had set her insides aflame. “What will you do now? You have no ships left.” She waved a hand over her face and neck, directing the breeze to cool her torrid skin and remove the flush before she faced him again.

  ***

  Nathaniel drew a deep breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The woman caused every sinew, every fiber, every particle within him to explode. And then she tore away from him, leaving him in a cold sweat. He gripped the mast, dragging his fingers over the rough wood. A splinter tore at his flesh. Good. The pain would jar him from her trance.

  “Perhaps God is trying to tell me something,” he finally said, cursing himself for the passion still thick in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should heed His call on my life to preach.”

  “Preach?” Hope twirled around.

  “I seem to have a talent for it.” Nathaniel shrugged, concerned by the anxious look on her face. Perchance she did not approve. Perchance she did not wish to marry a poor preacher. His stomach tightened. Regardless, he must follow the call of God on his life. The loss of his last ship had not left the gaping hole within him he’d assumed it would. Instead, when he’d made up his mind to become a preacher, a peace like he’d never known had fallen on him. “I suppose I’ve been running from God for quite some time, hoping to make a name for myself through status and wealth, trying to remove the stain of my past.”

  “Only God can truly cleanse you.” She gave him a sweet smile, her blue eyes beaming with an innocence that had not been there before.

  “You learn quickly.” He returned her smile. A gust of wind blasted over him, cooling his skin. He tossed the hair from his face as the sails snapped overhead. “But I’ve also learned that status and reputation do not make a man. Look at Hendrick, Paine, Falkland.”

  “You need say nothing more. Hendrick.” Hope blew out a sigh. “I cannot fathom a man who abandons his own daughter.”

  “You read his note. Perhaps he truly believes she is not his child.”

  “No matter. He is the only father she has known. Poor Elise.” The ship bucked, and Nathaniel reached out to steady Hope, keeping his hand upon her arm.

  “But it is an answer to prayer in a way.” She gazed up at him. “I shall raise her as my own daughter, give her all the love she needs, and teach her about the everlasting love of God.”

  Nathaniel forced a smile. What did he know about raising children? His only parent had been a prostitute. Lord, if Hope is to be a part of my future, I will need Your help with this.

  If she was to be a part of his future.

  “Yo
u will make a good mother.”

  “With God’s help, I hope so.” She glanced toward the sun. The frown of its arc cresting the horizon reflected the one now forming on her lips.

  Nathaniel drew her close, longing for her smile to return. “What troubles you?”

  “Elise needs a father, too.” Her blue eyes searched his. Anticipation sparked in their depths.

  Nathaniel looked away, unsure of the intent of her statement, unsure whether Hope would choose to live without the luxuries to which she’d grown accustomed.

  When he looked at her once more, the gleam in her eyes had faded to disappointment, and she tipped her face down.

  Lifting her chin, Nathaniel brushed his lips against hers. “I love you, Hope,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too, Nathaniel.” Her words melted over him. “With all my heart.”

  He pulled back and studied her. “I have nothing to offer you.”

  “You offer me more than anyone else ever has.”

  Nathaniel took Hope’s hands in his. His heart thumped against his chest.

  “Then will you marry this poor preacher?”

  Hope leapt into his arms, giggling, and showered him with kisses. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Embracing her, Nathaniel stumbled back as the ship lurched over a wave. Unable to keep his balance—or his concentration—as Hope continued planting kisses on his face and snuggling her body next to his, Nathaniel bumbled and slammed into the railing. The ship canted again, and quickly releasing Hope, he clutched the railing just before he would have toppled over the side and plunged into the sea.

  Hope braced her feet on the deck and threw a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

  He raised a patronizing brow her way, allowing a playful sparkle to fill his eyes. “Perhaps we should marry as soon as possible before you do indeed manage to kill me.” He chuckled, and she fell into his arms, her laughter joining with his.

  EPILOGUE

  “A sail! A sail!” A man on the yards above Hope roared across the ship. She looked up from her spot sitting on a barrel beside Elise, reading her a copy of the Tales of Mother Goose that Mrs. Timmons had procured.

  Captain Poole leapt upon the foredeck, grabbed the glass from Hawkins, and raised it to his eye.

  Across the deck, Nathaniel instructed a group of pirates on the use of the quadrant. Glancing at her, he gave her a reassuring nod and gripped the hilt of the sword he wore constantly aboard the pirate vessel.

  Gavin slid down the backstay and landed with a thud beside her. He tickled Elise beneath her chin, sending her into a flurry of giggles, and then winked at Hope. He’d taken the news of her and Nathaniel’s engagement with more joy than Hope would have expected. Either he had never harbored any affection for Hope, or he hid his feelings well beneath his usual facade of charm. Yet he seemed somehow different these past few days.

  He sauntered over and stood beside Nathaniel, who clapped him on the back. The two had formed a close bond, one that Hope prayed would drive Gavin to his knees before God.

  A band of pirates gathered on the main deck, awaiting their captain’s assessment of the intruder.

  Within a day’s journey of Charles Towne, Hope could hardly contain her excitement at seeing her sisters again. She’d been praying for Faith, whom she’d last seen in the Watch Tower Dungeon, awaiting trial for piracy. Even now, Hope found it difficult to believe she’d been so self-centered as to leave Faith in such a predicament with her fate unknown. But thanks be to God, Hope was a different person now.

  Putting the book aside, she shielded her eyes and peered in the direction of the men’s gazes. They’d not come across another vessel in two days, and she had been praying for a safe and uneventful passage home. Hope didn’t know if she could endure further excitement.

  Lord, let this be a friend and not a foe.

  ***

  “Scupper, sink, and burn me,” Captain Poole exclaimed. “’Tis the Red Siren.”

  “The Red Siren.” Hope snatched the glass from Poole’s hand, as a foul curse spewed from his mouth.

  Ignoring him, she held the telescope to her eye and twisted the ship into focus. The words Red Siren stood in bold red across the ship’s bow. Excitement soared through her. “’Tis my sister.”

  “Yer sister?” Poole swung a startled gaze her way. “But the Red Siren be a pirate vessel.”

  “Her sister is a pirate.” Nathaniel eased beside her, slipping a protective arm around her waist. “Or at least she was.”

  “Your sister is the notorious Red Siren?” Poole’s eyes lit up, and he slapped his knee. “Well, upon me life.”

  Gavin gripped the railing and stared at the fast-approaching ship. “Why, pray tell, would anyone withhold such an intriguing fact? Quite astonishing!” He pushed from the railing, his blue eyes alight with interest. “Will she fire upon us?”

  Poole spit to the side and thrust his hands upon his waist. “I’ll introduce ’er to the sharks, if she does.” He glanced at Hope. “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss, sister or no, no one fires upon Captain Poole without a sharp reply.”

  “I would expect nothing less, Captain.” Hope forced a smile that belied her inner turmoil. “But I assure you, if it is my sister, and she spots me on your ship, she’ll not fire upon us.” Bracing her shoes against the heaving deck, Hope raised the spyglass once again, scanning the oncoming vessel, squinting into focus the people on board. What if it wasn’t Faith? She could have sold her ship, or it could have been stolen. Perhaps she had been sentenced to the gallows, after all. A sick brew welled in her stomach. Oh Lord, don’t let it be so.

  A shock of red hair swept across her vision, and Hope swung it back and twisted the handle.

  “’Tis my sister, indeed! She’s aboard.” Hope leapt for joy.

  “Are you sure?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Yes, and there’s a man beside her.” Hope hesitated, peering through the glass. “Captain Waite. ’Tis Captain Waite, I’m sure of it. Ah, this is good fortune indeed.”

  “Who the blazes is Captain Waite?” Captain Poole tore the glass from her eye and pressed it against his own.

  “A lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.” Too late, Hope realized the implications of her words.

  Poole lowered the glass. “Be ye out of yer head?” He swore, then stomped to the foredeck railing and stared at the mob of pirates clustered on the main deck. “Load the guns! Clear the deck! Run up our colors.”

  As the men scrambled to do their captain’s bidding, Hope dashed to Poole’s side, daring to touch the raging pirate’s sleeve. “Nay, Captain. He is not in uniform. And he does not sail under British colors. I assure you he will not fire upon us.” At least Hope prayed he would not.

  Captain Poole’s narrowed eyes sent a chill through her as he shifted his gaze between her and the ship.

  Nathaniel approached, nudging Hope behind him. “They’ve no doubt seen us by now, Captain, and their gun ports are still closed. Lend us a boat and send us to their ship. If their intent is anything but friendly, you have my word, we will convince them otherwise. In either case, you shall be relieved of our company, as I am confident Miss Westcott and Captain Waite will be happy to escort us into Charles Towne harbor.”

  “I’ll join you,” Gavin shot over his shoulder from the railing.

  “I thought you were turning pirate.” Nathaniel faced him, a faint smirk on his lips. “Or have I managed to persuade you to change your course?”

  “Perhaps.” Gavin gave one of his boyish grins. He scratched his whiskers and gazed at the Red Siren. “But truth be told, I can’t pass up the opportunity to meet a lady pirate.”

  “Belay me orders,” Poole shouted below; then he grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “So be it. But if she fires upon me, I’ll hold to no bargain.”

  Nathaniel extended his hand. The pirate gripped it. “’Tis been quite an experience, Captain. I shall not forget you.”

  Captain Poole snapped his hand back
and shifted uncomfortably. “Be gone wit’ ye now before I change me mind.”

  Hope had grown fond of the beastly pirate. “Where will you go now, Captain?”

  He scratched his chin, the twinkle in his eyes matching the glitter of the ring piercing his ear. “I hear there be a pretty young missionary back in Kingstown. I have it in me mind to pay her a visit.”

  Moments later, Hope gripped Nathaniel’s hand as he assisted her over the railing of the Red Siren, her heart lodged permanently in her throat. Before she placed both feet on the deck, a flash of red filled her vision, and Faith barreled into her, wrapped her arms around her, and squeezed the breath from Hope’s lungs.

  “Hope, Hope. I cannot believe ’tis you.” She held her out for a moment and inspected her from head to toe, then pressed her close again, her voice a cacophony of sobs and laughter. “Where have you been? We’ve been searching for you!” Her joy snapped to anger in seconds—as only Faith could do—and she released Hope and took a step back, placing her hands on her hips. Curls of flaming red fluttered around her face in the ocean breeze—a face that now grew tight with anger. Her white cotton shirt flapped beneath a leather baldric. Brown breeches were stuffed into dark boots that tapped an ominous chant over the wooden deck.

  Hope couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad to see you, too, even if you do look like a pirate.” She swiped a tear slipping from her eye and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Never fear. I am well.”

  Faith’s gaze shot to Nathaniel, who assisted Mr. and Mrs. Timmons and Elise on board, then it swung to Gavin as he swept over the bulwarks after them, plopping to the deck with a smile. She cocked a curious brow at Hope, awaiting an explanation.

  Mr. Waite’s imposing figure stomped past them and gripped Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Nathaniel. How did you ... What are you doing here?”

  Hope smiled. “You remember Mr. Nathaniel Mason, Faith, do you not?”

  Nathaniel nodded at Faith. “Miss Westcott. We have much to tell you.”