My Timeswept Heart

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "Nay. The honorable Captain Blackwell is driven by revenge. Such a useless emotion, that. So many mistakes can be made." He sighed tiredly, his gaze moving between the palm fronds to the young brown-skinned girl picking flowers in his garden.

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  " Twill take the pompous braggart years to find me among these islands. "I was the sole reason I chose this bug-infested paradise." He turned his head. "Yet you can be most assured I will enjoy the con­frontation, should it arise, Lizzie. Be most assured." His smile was thin, confident, and it made Eliza­beth shiver. Phillip was pleasant to look upon, slim, fair-skinned, thick light hair neatly tied, yet it was those eyes that gave a person pause—shark-cold, merciless. And Elizabeth wanted naught to do with the secrets kept there.

  Phillip held her gaze, enjoying the ripple of fright on her carefully painted face, the trembling of her hands. It made his body grow warm and hard. The little chit was far too transparent for her own good.

  "No doubt Blackwell is aware of your duplicity," he reminded needlessly.

  Elizabeth's gaze dropped to the spot before her skirts. Nay, Dane was unaware, she prayed. She was there when he'd discovered what had happened to Desiree. She'd witnessed his ungodly fury, the way he tore through the city searching for Phillip. It was she who had brought Phillip to Desiree and her father, she who'd given her blessing of his worth. A delicate shiver passed down her spine. Dane would not harm me, she insisted silently. If perchance she did meet with the dark captain, Elizabeth was posi­tive she could convince him she'd been duped by Phillip, too. She absently fingered the string of to­paz glittering against the milky skin above her breasts. Truly, she couldn't give a care to what Phil-lip had actually done to the gullible child; her con­science would not allow such thoughts. Elizabeth

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  would get her coin as soon as she was able, find a ship, and depart this wretched little scrap of land. Before Dane found them.

  "I must leave, Phillip," she said while looking at her ruined gown. "I need to change." When he didn't respond, she looked up. The air rushed into her lungs at his expression. "Nay!" she wailed, struggling to rise.

  Phillip's lips twisted in a cruel smile as he slipped the ascot free from around his throat, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Lace fluttered at his cuffs as he moved. Gemstones flashed, catching the light as he quickly stripped the fabric from his torso. He watched as she nervously licked her lips, and he was there when she managed to climb to her feet.

  "Nay, Phillip, please. Not again." Regardless of her pleas, she stood frozen beneath his empty gaze. His palms roughly covered her breasts, his fingertips catching in the neck of her gown. She gasped as he rent the fabric to her waist. He shoved her to the floor, then freed the buttons of his breeches. Her eyes widened, and she choked on a sob, trying to move away.

  He backhanded her, his ring slicing open her cheek. Then he grabbed her jaw, the vicious grip whitening the flesh around his fingers as he turned her face to him. "Never deny me, Lizzie. Tis a day you will regret."

  Terrified, she nodded meekly, tears spilling from round, dark eyes. He chuckled at her dread, bend­ing over her, his tongue snaking out to lick the trickle of blood moving toward his fingertips, de­lighting when his half sister cringed.

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  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As Tess stepped into the cabin, several elegantly dressed men turned toward her. Heat warmed her cheeks, and she self-consciously brushed the stray hairs from her face, offering a small smile. The cabin, once seeming spacious, was now cramped with officers.

  She stepped back against the wall as aproned sail­ors filed in before her with garnished trays of poached fish and chicken, baked apples and sugared beets, pots of sauce-covered noodles and silver plat­ters of hard crusty bread and churned butter. Real butter, Tess marveled, as a deckhand poured red wine into crystal goblets.

  Her gaze danced around the dining area, softly lit with lanterns and candles. The long scarred table was covered with a pristine cloth and set with fine polished pewter, silver, and crystal, the aroma of food making her mouth water. Her eyes came to rest on Dane where he was standing before a mirror, tying a tie, of sorts. Dark green velvet stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he fiddled with

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  the neckcloth, and Tess's heart jumped when he caught her gaze in the silver glass. Damn, he looked good.

  His coat was long, the hem sweeping back almost like tails, the fabric unadorned, its standing collar stiff and high. Frothy cream silk spilled from his throat and cuffs, and Tess thought that any other man, in her time, would have looked ridiculous in that outfit, but Dane made her hot. His trousers were buff-colored, showing every contour of his powerful thighs, and, like O'Keefe, he wore knee boots instead of stockings and buckled shoes. His long hair was pulled back in his customary black ribbon, and unruly still damp curls framed his throat. He turned to face her, giving his green bro­cade vest a tug.

  She took a slow breath to calm her pulse. "You look very nice this evening, Dane." Her eyes danced with mischief. "Who would have thought you'd clean up so well for a pirate?"

  There was a soft chuckle from somewhere to her right, and Tess looked over to see O'Keefe reclined casually on the bed, his torso supported on a bent arm. "Ahh, Blackwell, she's enchanting. Such wit and left-handed compliments are succor to a man's self-esteem."

  "I think you'll survive, O'Keefe. You have enough self-esteem for all of us." Several men choked on their drinks, but Ramsey merely grinned.

  "You don't care for me very much, do you, lass?" he said, agilely climbing off the high bed scented with her perfume.

  "I don't know you well enough not to like you,"

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  she replied as he moved toward her.

  "Mayhaps this evening we shall change your poor opinion of my debauched soul?" He grasped her hand, giving her knuckles a quick kiss.

  Tess craned her neck to look up at him. Oh boy, was he smooth. "We'll see, Captain O'Keefe. I re­serve the right to withhold judgment until I'm ready. Now, if you're through with this." She pulled her 'hand free. "Excuse me, while I freshen up." Tess slipped into the bathroom, sighing against the closed door. Freshen up! God, she never thought she'd hear herself say that!

  She looked down at the chamber pot and shivered with revulsion. Never in her life did she appreciate modern plumbing more than at that moment. Man­aging this is an art, she thought, making use of the crude facilities. She washed the thin sheen of salt from her face and hands, pulled the pins from her hair, and brushed the jet black mass until it shone, then swept the tresses into a soft chignon, leaving a few wisps to frame her face. Tess was glad her gown wasn't like the first one. This was more sedate with a higher neckline. She hated to think what O'Keefe would do if he had a look at some skin. Jeez, the man was a walking di—now, Renfrew, she scolded herself, that isn't very nice.

  Tess had to remind herself where she was and the double standard that existed. The gentler sex, they'd called her. Wonder what Amelia Earhart, Rachel McLeish, and Sally Ride would have to say about that. She'd never been in the company of so many men as she had in the past two weeks and still wasn't used to all the attention. This was going to

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  be a challenge, and she knew she had to watch what she said or, rather, how it was delivered. Ramsey was Dane's good friend, probably his best friend, as well as the captain of one of his ships, and she didn't want to be the cause of a rift between them, no matter how far-fetched the idea sounded. Checking to be certain nothing embarrassing was showing, Tess braced herself for the evening ahead. Show no mercy, Renfrew. Cut no slack.

  Dane kept a casual eye on the bathing-room door. When she finally appeared, he fought the urge to climb over the furniture to get to her. How in God's name was he supposed to function as a leader if all he could think about was this woman and what it was like to hold her, kiss her, make love to her? He set aside his drink and shifted around Ramsey, un­aware that he'd ceased talking in mid-sentence. She w
as moving toward him. The burning memory of only last night, her muscled body, slick-hot and writhing beneath him, begging him to show her what she'd never known, filled his mind. All he could think of was this woman and how she'd given him the most passionate night of his life!

  They were moderately alone in the center of the room.

  "Good God, Blackwell. What on earth are you thinking?" she asked softly. "That look on your face is positively obscene!"

  He grinned a bit lopsidedly, making her pulse stagger as he grasped her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. He leaned close to whisper, "My thoughts are far too bold to be spoken aloud, love."

  Tess nearly choked at the endearment, her senses

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  reeling back to the first time he'd called her that, when he was buried inside her on the very spot they stood. Unable to help it, she glanced down at her feet, then lifted her gaze to his.

  "Great minds think alike, eh, Blackwell," she murmured throatily.

  He tossed his head back and laughed, the sound rich and hearty, bringing several heads around.

  Ramsey's head jerked up, his features pulling taut. It had been a while since he'd seen Dane laugh, and he couldn't help but smile. The man was so filled with revenge of late that he hadn't made time to enjoy anything. Were I he, Ram thought, envious of the secrets the pair were sharing at that moment. The intimate look Tess sent Dane brimmed with heat and sensuality, and Ramsey felt a sharp jealous ache that she'd bestow such a glance on his friend. He calmed himself. They had yet begun the evening, he decided confidently.

  A chime sounded, and Duncan announced that dinner was served.

  Tess turned to see the officers standing behind their chairs as Dane maneuvered her to the far end. She adjusted the heavy skirts and sat down, glanc­ing back over her shoulder at Dane as he scooted the chair beneath her. There was a silent message in that soft look, she thought, and wondered what it was. Chair legs scraped against the floor as the men seated themselves only after she was firmly planted. A girl could get used to all this chivalry, Tess de­cided as Dane took his place directly opposite her. To her left was Captain O'Keefe, smiling that sexy heart-stopping smile; to her right was Gaelan

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  Thorpe. She couldn't help but notice that every man appeared interested in how she placed her napkin.

  Dane watched her, unaware of what he was put­ting on his plate. Though hers was full, she waited patiently until all had been served, then finally tasted the meal. Unused to the female company, men devoured the fare before them with a ven­geance, but Tess dined slowly, savoring each bite. Her manners were impeccable, oddly meticulous, and he observed as she set the knife aside after each cut, then switched hands. So elegant. Every other soul kept fork and knife in his grip constantly, him­self included.

  "I see you still employ the same cook, eh, Blackwell?" Ramsey commented, enjoying the delicate flavor of the poached fish. "The odd little man cer­tainly does put on a splendid fare."

  "Aye, with meager stores he does do rather well," Dane replied.

  "Have you met the cook, Lady Renfrew?" Ramsey asked.

  " 'Fraid not." She sipped her wine, wishing it were a Diet Coke. "Captain Blackwell forbade me to go belowdecks, and I assume that's where the chef is."

  "A wise command, Dane," Ramsey said, glancing at the captain, then shoving a generous portion of chicken into his mouth.

  "I still don't understand what's so bad about go­ing below?" Her remark caused several men to chuckle.

  " 'Tis not a fit place for a lady," Gaelan told her. "And our cook has a reputation. One does not enter his domain."

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  Tess's eyes widened a fraction. "No one?" She looked at Dane. "Not even you?"

  "He has some peculiar possessiveness about the galley." Dane shrugged, sawing into his meat.

  "He lopped off a sailor's finger once for sneaking a taste of his cakes."

  Tess set her fork down with a sharp clink. "That's barbaric!"

  Dane dealt Aaron a harsh glance, then looked to Tess. "Do not worry yourself, Lady Renfrew. He rarely shows himself above decks and does not speak at all." His cool tone implied the matter was not up for discussion as he addressed the man be­side him.

  Tess fumed at his attitude and ground out, "What type of ship is Triton's Will, Captain O'Keefe?" be­fore turning to look at the man.

  "A frigate, m'lady, a duplicate of the Sea Witch" Ram hid a smile as he slavered butter on a small crust of bread, then popped it into his mouth.

  Hard arteries by forty, she thought. "Exact? The ceilings raised, I mean." He nodded. "I guess it's necessary with you being so tall."

  His grin was devilish. "Ahh, so there is something the lady has noticed of this poor, lonely seaman."

  "You mean besides your conceit?"

  He covered his heart with his hand, dark eyes twinkling. "Ouch, you wound me dearly, fair lady, with the venomous arrows you thrust deep into my tender heart."

  "Your skin is too thick, O'Keefe," she murmured, her eyes laughing.

  "Yet you have pierced its many layers, m'lady."

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  A tapered brow rose. "Cowhide that soft, huh?"

  Gaelan tried to disguise his chuckle, but Ramsey threw his head back and laughed aloud.

  "Ahh, such a sharp tongue you wield, lass. Pray, what cause have I given for you to be so harsh with me?"

  "I'm not*being harsh, Captain O'Keefe. Truthful I think is a better word. You're an outrageous flirt, and I know it."

  Ramsey enjoyed her frankness. "Sweet lass," he grasped her hand. "Is there any way to win your cold heart?"

  She pulled free. "I didn't know it was up for grabs."

  Ramsey frowned, taking a moment to understand what she meant. "Do not all ladies of age seek to find their heartmate and wed?"

  "You're of age, are you?"

  The comment brought soft laughter from the men sitting close. Ramsey sighed heavily. "I fear I shan't marry in the near future."

  Her eyes sparkled. "You mean, not unless there's a gun aimed at your head." Ramsey actually flushed at that. "Why do men think all women have on their minds is marriage, children, cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Have you ever done laundry, Captain?"

  He shook his head, then asked, "Have you, lass?"

  "Sure."

  Ram was shocked that she had. "Ladies usually leave such chores to servants," he told her. They were all looking at her rather oddly now.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. "Hard work is good for the soul, or haven't you heard?" She was glad to

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  see them look a bit shamefaced. "I've always taken

  care of myself, Captain O'Keefe, and laundry's a

  real pain. Not what I'd call a great way to spend the

  day." Tess knew doing. laundry in 1789 bordered on

  beating it against a rock. "And it's certainly not my

  prime goal in life."

  "Dare I ask what is your," his brows scrunched, "prime goal?"

  Tess glanced at Dane and noticed that he'd been listening, "A couple of weeks ago I could have told you, but now, I'm not so sure," she answered softly.

  "Will you return to your home, then?" Ramsey asked, then watched her expression cloud. She looked down at her plate.

  "I cant, O'Keefe. I can never go home." Because it doesn't exist, she thought, and for a second won­dered about Penny, hoping her career was still in­tact. Then it hit her that Penny wouldn't be born for another hundred and seventy-five years!

  "Surely there are people looking for you? Rela­tives? Your parents, perchance?" Ramsey's tone was one of honest concern.

  "Hardly." Her gaze met Dane's. "They're dead. A car—carriage accident," she corrected quickly. A drunk driver, Tess raged silently. How could she ex­plain she'd been thrown to the floor of the parked car, and the only injury she'd received was a wrenched kneecap, her foster parents killed, and her Olympic career trashed for good.

  "I'm sorry for your loss, m'lady," Dane h
eard Ram say and felt a moment of confusion. If her family had not set her adrift, then who? Had she truly jumped ship in fear for her life? He'd once

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  considered that statement simply to be the ravings of a madwoman. But now—

  "Thanks, O'Keefe. Where are you from?" she said, changing the subject.

  "I hail from Lexington, m'lady."

  "How come you don't have an accent?"

  "Mayhaps because I have not set foot on dry land for any length of time in nearly fifteen years."

  "Good God! You mean you've been on ship that long?"

  "Aye, a seaman is a seaman, lass." He focused his attention on his meal.

  "You too, Mr. Thorpe?"

  Gaelan swallowed, delighted she finally noticed his presence. "Aye, I fear I'm not as worldly as the captain here, m'lady. Tis been a mere ten years since I've stepped onto my family's plantation in North Carolina."

  Tess relaxed in her chair, glancing between the two. "I bet the pair of you left a trail of broken hearts up and down the East Coast."

  "I hold no such honor, m'lady," Gaelan put in with a chuckle. "I've not the reputation with the ladies as does Captains Blackwell and O'Kee—" He cut himself off when her smile drooped. "Forgive me, Lady Renfrew. I did not mean to insult you."

  "You haven't." Her gaze shifted. "So-you and Blackwell have a reputation, huh?"

  Ramsey leaned closer. "Is it possible 'tis jealousy I hear in your voice, m'lady?" She chuckled throatily, the husky sound warming Ramsey to the core.

  "Nope, the God's truth, I think." She sampled the fish. "What sort of reputation, Mr. Thorpe?"

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  He looked uncomfortable. "Not one I would dis­cuss with a lady," he mumbled, glancing away.

  "Oho. That kind." Her eyes twinkled at his dis­tress. "Relax, Mr. Thorpe. Men and women are a fact of life."

  "So delighted to hear you speak so, Lady Ren­frew," Ramsey murmured silkily.

  Tess glanced to her side. "Down, boy, down." She was close enough to catch the woodsy scent of his cologne, see the unbelievable length of his lashes. One of these days, she thought, he was going to get his comeuppance. He'll fall madly in love with a woman who is unaffected by his good looks and charm, and Tess silently hoped she was around to see the man suffer.