Jamie’s grin was slow to form. “So ye stole her?”
“Since the vessel was ours to begin with I’d hardly call it that.”
“Right ye are, Deacon.” Jamie draped his arms around the two men, laughing despite himself when Keena inquired about the lad, Andy.
“Ye didn’t throw him overboard, did ye?”
“Ah, nay. I didn’t do that. And Andy is well and good, though probably anxious to know what’s going on about now.” Jamie paused. “How did ye find this place?”
“Just happened upon it, though to be truthful we been lookin’ for ye, Cap’n. Didn’t think the Frenchman could get rid a ye so easy like.”
“Easy?” Jamie shook his head. “I wouldn’t be calling it that. But at any rate, ’tis glad I am to see ye. Who else be with ye?”
The list included many of Jamie’s old crew. Good pirates and seamen all, but not a saint among them, except maybe for Deacon.
Jamie stopped walking and rubbed his chin. “I have a bit of a dilemma.” He sucked in his bottom lip. There was no way Anne could pass as a boy now.
“What is it, Cap’n? Ye know we’ll help ye out.”
He shrugged and then called out, deciding one look was better than any lengthy explanation. Anne stuck her head from beneath the palm curtain immediately. “Come on down here, Annie. ’Tis all right.”
Watching his friends’ faces, their eyes growing wide, their mouths dropping open as Anne emerged was almost worth the trouble he was going to have.
“Why he... she’s a woman.”
“Very perceptive, Deacon.”
“How... ?” The black-garbed man rubbed his good eye as if he needed to put things back in focus.
“Hot damn.” Keena slapped his knee. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things. I told ye. Didn’t I tell ye, Deacon, that I saw a man and woman on the beach.”
Anne’s face turned scarlet, but Jamie only chuckled. “That would have been Mistress Cornwall and myself,” he said, reaching out his hand for her. “Now as ye can see I might have a bit of a problem with the rest of the crew. I’m counting on ye to help me... to help Mistress Cornwall.”
~ ~ ~
Anne stared out the stern windows as the island, their island, slowly disappeared from sight. For all it had been their home for nearly a month there was very little fanfare upon leaving. They had nothing tangible of value except what they brought with them... a knife and tinderbox. Memories weren’t something one packed up and carried off.
They left the island quickly after Keena and Deacon promised their support. Jamie had greeted the remaining crew members who’d come ashore after the crude hut was spotted. They all seemed glad to find him alive... as glad as pirates could be about anything.
Then he brought her forward, introducing her as the niece of the governor of Libertia. Not a hostage exactly, still he implied she was untouchable if they wished the coin she’d promised.
There had been some grumbling, but Jamie was adept at making people see things his way. And then there were the jewels.
Anne sighed, wondering where her jewels were at this moment. Did d’Porteau still have them or had he sold them, squandering the money on women and drink by now. And what would Jamie do when he found out she lied about having them?
Anne pressed her forehead to the cool glass, an overwhelming wash of sadness seeping over her. Despite the problems caused by d’Porteau, she should be pleased about their rescue from the island. No more sleeping on dried seaweed. No more diet of fish and coconut. Her eyes swept toward the bowl that contained her uneaten meal. She should be thrilled to sup on salt pork and beans.
Anne sighed. She missed Jamie. It was as simple as that. She’d grown used to him on the island. His company. His wicked humor. His touch.
She cared about him. Her heart nearly broke when she heard Lucy’s shrill whistles as they rowed to the waiting Lost Cause. Jamie hadn’t made any move of recognition, but Anne could tell by the tightening of his features that he heard Lucy’s goodbye. And how much it moved him.
Anne pulled her legs up beneath the borrowed skirts found in one of the captain’s sea chests. They were bright red, and too long, and she’d decided never to ask why he had them, though her curiosity, and some other emotion she couldn’t name was sorely strained.
She was sitting like that, cheek resting on her knees, when Jamie walked in. He didn’t knock, deciding it was his cabin. And after all, he’d lived with her intimately for nearly a month.
But it amazed him how different someone could seem when wrapped in the silks of civilization. Despite the bright garish color and cut she looked every bit the lady she was. And he felt every inch the pirate. It almost seemed as if the past month never happened. As if it were nothing but a sailor’s dream.
He cleared his throat. “The food wasn’t to your liking?” He nodded toward the full trencher where broth congealed around bits of pork and beans.
Anne stared at him wide-eyed, wondering why he didn’t come closer, wishing he would. But he stood near the open door, arms crossed, and booted feet spread. He looked more the pirate, less the free savage he’d seemed on the island. Anne sighed heavily. “I found myself missing roasted fish,” she said wistfully, wondering if he could guess all the other things she missed as well.
He looked at her a moment, his expression softening. But he didn’t step toward her, and after a moment Anne wondered if she hadn’t imagined the change. For now he stared at her with barely a hint of recognition.
“D’Porteau plans to return to Libertia.”
“What?” Anne stretched out her legs and jumped to her feet. “How do you know?”
The pirate shrugged and leaned back against the door. “The French Whore and the Lost Cause sailed together for a while. Some of my crew was with him. He even seemed to trust or at least tolerate a few. Keena. Deacon amused him.”
“And he told them about Libertia?”
“He mentioned it.”
“Then we must do something.” Anne clasped her hands together and paced to the small mirror and back, glancing over her shoulder only when she heard his mocking, “We?”
She whirled around to face him. “You can’t mean ’tis your plan to let him do it. To sit by while he does?”
“I wonder, Annie, why ye find that so difficult to believe.” Jamie shook his head. “But as it happens you’ve the right of it this time.”
Bottled-up air rushed from Anne. “Then you are going to do something?”
“Aye. ’Tis personal at this point.”
Anne wanted to believe he meant personal because of her, but she didn’t. Not the way he acted toward her. And his next words only convinced her more.
“After what he did, I think d’Porteau deserves my revenge.”
It shouldn’t bother her why Captain MacQuaid chose to fight d’Porteau, only that he did. At least that’s what Anne tried to tell herself. She straightened her shoulders. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He hesitated, not sure if he should tell her everything, finally deciding she should know. “To be honest, ’tis possible we are too late.”
“Too late?” Anne’s eyes sought his, but he refused to look at her.
“The Lost Cause didn’t find us right away.”
“So d’Porteau might already have attacked Libertia?”
Jamie tried not to be affected by her stricken expression. But he felt a tightening around his heart, and a desire to drop to his knees and swear to protect her always. “’Tis doubtful,” Jamie said and hoped he spoke the truth. “D’Porteau lost more than a few men when my crew commandeered the Lost Cause. He probably needs to recruit more sailors.”
“How will he do that?”
“There be several ways.” Jamie pushed away from the doorjamb and crossed to the window. Their island was little more than a wavering speck on the horizon. He turned back to face Anne. “Knowing d’Porteau I imagine he’ll attack a merchant vessel and kill half the crew, thus convincing
the other half they’d be fools not to go a pirating.”
“He really is a despicable wretch, isn’t he?”
“Aye.” The grin was back. “He gives pirates a bad name.”
Despite her fears for Libertia and her uncle, Anne smiled. “I doubt he’s the only one.”
Jamie moved closer, caught by the spell of her smile. “And what are ye implying by that, Mistress Cornwall?” he asked, his tone playful.
“Not a thing, Captain MacQuaid.” Anne’s pulse quickened. He was so overpoweringly masculine and sensual, she could barely breathe. It was with great effort she didn’t throw herself into his strong arms.
What was he thinking? Jamie stopped himself before he reached out to her. Another few moments and he would have her shed of scarlet silks and stretched out beneath him.
And the door to the passageway wide open, where any jack-tar could walk by and see them.
And get ideas of his own.
Jamie was having a hard enough time convincing the crew that Anne Cornwall was of no use to them deflowered. Convincing them he hadn’t already plucked her for himself.
Turning on his heel, Jamie strode back toward the door. When he’d put a safe distance between them, he glanced her way. “We should be in Libertia day after next. Until then I suggest ye stay below.” That said he left his cabin shutting the door behind him.
~ ~ ~
She didn’t see him again.
Anne spent the first night tossing and turning, tangled in the sheet, wondering why he didn’t come. It was the first time she’d slept alone in almost a month and she didn’t like it. Longing for his touch kept her awake the next night, too, but by now Anne was resigned to his absence. For whatever reason the pirate had decided to forget their relationship on the island. To forget her.
By the time the Lost Cause sailed into the harbor at Libertia, Anne was convinced it was for the best. She would forget him as well. Of course, it would be easier once she was back home, off his ship and out of his cabin. Who wouldn’t think of him constantly surrounded by his things! Sleeping on his bed, where even the pillow carried his scent.
Besides, she had much more important things to occupy her thoughts.
As soon as she was summoned Anne hurried on deck. Squinting, she studied the shoreline, searching for any sign that d’Porteau had made good on his threat to return.
“I’d say we beat him here,” came a deep, masculine voice behind her. Anne’s hands tightened on the splintery rail.
“We can thank heaven for that, I suppose.”
“Aye.” Jamie lifted his hand to touch her shoulder, then let it drop. “I’ve been waiting to talk with ye about the colonists on Libertia.”
“Really?” Anne turned to face him, backing up until the rail pressed into the small of her back. “I wasn’t difficult to find.”
Ignoring her barb, knowing he deserved it, Jamie stared out toward the island. “How committed do ye think they are to defeating d’Porteau?”
“They hate him. Many lost friends or relatives the first time he came.”
“But are they willing to fight?”
“Fight?” She said the word as if its meaning were lost on her. “But I thought you were going to do that.”
“Perfectly willing to sacrifice tainted pirate blood, are ye?”
Anne’s jaw dropped open. “That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just... well, you know how to do battle. And these people.” Anne let her arm swing about to indicate the islanders. “They’re farmers and scholars. They haven’t a clue how to defeat a man like d’Porteau. I thought that was obvious.”
“Well, they shall have to learn, and learn quickly. I haven’t enough men to do it myself. Besides, since they have such a stake in the outcome—”
“I’m sure every citizen of Libertia will fight to the death,” Anne said, squaring her shoulders somewhat indignantly.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
~ ~ ~
Hoisting the too-long skirts up with one hand, Anne balanced herself with the other as she crossed the narrow board that served as a gangplank. Getting about on the pirate ship was much easier garbed as a boy. But that adventure was definitely over. Now she must face her uncle and explain her long absence.
He waited on the beach with several other men, Mort Tatum, Matthew Baxter, Dugald Miller... and Israel. Anne had a wild, totally uncharacteristic urge to turn and flee back onto the Lost Cause. And she might have except that Captain MacQuaid was right behind her.
“Uncle Richard.” Anne stepped into his waiting embrace. “I’m so glad to see you. I can explain,” she added, whispering softly into his ear.
“No need of that, Annie. Israel already told us where you were. How was your shopping trip? I see you found a pretty new gown.” He held her at arm’s length and Anne’s gaze shot to Israel who merely shrugged. “And I see you’ve brought our friend with you. Captain MacQuaid, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Jamie stepped forward and bowed. His hair was trimmed and tied back neatly in a queue. The suit of clothing, made for him by a tailor once captured off a packet, fit well and distinguished him as a gentleman, deceiving though it was. “’Tis my honor to see ye again. I wonder if we might have a word? Perhaps a general meeting of your colonists?”
Richard’s face beamed. “Ah, Captain, you’ve decided to join us after all. And how many new converts to John Locke’s thinking do you bring?”
Jamie looked at Anne, then back toward the Lost Cause. Richard’s madness wasn’t the same as his mother’s, but being around him unleashed a maelstrom of emotions that Jamie preferred to keep locked up inside. A cold sweat broke out on his upper lip. He didn’t know what to say.
“Captain MacQuaid will tell you everything at the meeting, Uncle,” Anne said as she led him up the path toward their cottage.
~ ~ ~
Fewer men assembled in the common area than Anne expected. There was a platform built of whitewashed boards on which her uncle and several of the elected Headmen sat. Captain Jamie MacQuaid was also there, looking handsome, but uncomfortable in his civilized clothing.
Turning to Israel who stood beside her on the edge of the group standing in the shade of circling palms, Anne looked him over. “What exactly did you tell my uncle?”
“Damn little.” Israel rubbed a gnarled hand over his grizzled head. “Ye knows yer uncle. He wanted to believe ye went to New Providence to order supplies. Was as simple as agreeing with ’im.”
“But I was gone so long.”
Israel’s eyes narrowed until there were nothing more than glistening slits in the wrinkles or his dark face. “That reminds me. Where was ye all this time?”
Anne could feel the heated blush creep up her face, but she refused to look away. “I imagine Captain MacQuaid will answer part of your question,” she said, thankful that Lester Perdue had risen to call the mumbling colonists to quiet.
Then her uncle spoke... a mixed-up rambling speech about more colonists coming and how successful the grand experiment was, a true democracy in action. He didn’t seem to notice the disenchanted mumbling from his audience. When he introduced Jamie, the griping grew louder.
It didn’t stop until Jamie pulled out his pistol, slammed it down on the table and leaned forward.
“Now some of ye might have a...” He paused and glanced down at Richard Cornwall. “... a slightly misconceived idea of why I’m here. I do believe in the teachings of John Locke... at least those that I know. Why even the Lost Cause has a set of articles that every pir—sailor votes on.” He cleared his throat, deciding it best he didn’t go too deeply into philosophy. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then tell us and be off with you so we can get about our jobs,” someone yelled from the assemblage and others grumbled their agreement.
Anne’s jaw dropped in surprise. Though the other women weren’t included in the grand experiment’s democratic meeting, she, as her uncle’s assistant, was often included. In the past there we
re disagreements, of course, but no one ever spoke so rudely as Dugald Miller just did. She had half a mind to tell him so, and actually took a few steps forward before Jamie’s announcement stopped her, and the undercurrent of voices.
“Willet d’Porteau is on his way here.”
The silence was so complete, Anne could hear the pounding of the sugar works on the lee side of the island.
But when the astonishment wore off the questions began.
“How do you come of this information?”
“What else can he take from us?”
“How many can you squeeze on that sloop in the harbor?”
Jamie held up his hand, and answered each in turn. “I know because some of my men heard the Frenchman say he was coming here. And how they came into his company isn’t important, except to say he attacked my vessel and took some of the crew hostage.”
“Did you hear him yourself? What of you, Anne Cornwall? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t hear him nor did Mistress Cornwall, but you can be sure—”
“Be sure of what?” It was Dugald Miller again. “Rumor has it you’re a pirate yourself. How do we know you ain’t here to steal what your friend d’Porteau left behind?”
This time Anne did start forward, but the rapier cut of Jamie’s eyes brought her to a standstill. He then faced the crowd, the same expression on his face.
“If I was after your riches, this island would be flattened by now by my cannon. Your gold and women would be locked in my cabin.” His gaze momentarily caught Anne’s. “And most of you,” he said, pointing out toward the group, “would be dead.”
Jamie took a deep breath. “Now, I’m not saying that won’t happen. I’m just saying it will be d’Porteau who does it, not me.”
“Then we’ve got to get off Libertia. We’ve got to leave.”
“No!” Richard stood, shaking his head and lifting his fists high. “We can’t abandon our ideals. Remember John Locke. We must prove that his grand design will work. We must—”
“Nothing to be proved by getting us all killed!”
My Seaswept Heart Page 24