“Yea, sit down, old man. You haven’t known what was what for a long time now!”
She couldn’t get to her uncle quickly enough. The group grew ugly, yelling at the man they once revered, and jostling Anne around as she tried to make her way to the platform. Ahead of her she could see her uncle’s stricken expression as he tried to understand what was happening.
The loud explosion caught everyone off guard.
All eyes turned on the captain who held a smoking pistol pointed toward the heavens. “Now we can all try to run-tail,” he yelled, his voice booming off the palm trees. “But there be no guarantee we can all get aboard the Lost Cause without it sinking to the bottom. And even if we do get her under sail d’Porteau might attack us on the high seas.”
“What else can we do?”
“Yea, there’s no other choice.”
Jamie lowered the pistol and leaned forward, fanning the group with his gaze. “Ye can stand up like men, by damn. Ye can fight for what ye believe in!”
Chapter Seventeen
Enthusiasm does not a soldier make.
Jamie sensed the truth of those words often as he tried to train the Libertia militia. After his call to arms, which many on the island called stirring, the Libertians volunteered to a man. Their vehement war cries filled the air, drifting off to sea on the trade wind.
“Down with tyrants!”
“Long live Libertia!”
“Death to all pirates!”
While this last slogan made Jamie cringe, Anne seemed to find it amusing. “They don’t know what they’re saying,” she said with a chuckle as she listed each man’s name beside the weapon he was given. The pistols and boarding pikes came from the Lost Cause’s arsenal.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Jamie hoisted a barrel of powder onto his shoulder. “’Tis Dugald Miller I hear screaming that particular phrase the loudest.” He glanced down as he passed by. “What are ye writing all that down for?”
“So we’ll have a record.” Anne stared up at him wide-eyed.
“A record for what?”
“Well for...” Now that he asked Anne wasn’t sure why she did it. But she always kept records, lists of crops planted and sugar harvested, and sugar cones shipped. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary for her to record everything. But it made her feel useful, and right now Anne needed to perceive herself that way.
With a wave of her hand and a mumbled, “It needs to be done,” Anne dismissed his inquiry. But before he left she offered an observation. “Don’t let Dugald bother you. He’s always been puffed with hot air.”
Jamie’s grin and thoughts of Anne stayed with him as he started drilling the men in proper use of the muskets.”
The grin quickly faded. A passion for defending their freedom didn’t alter the fact that most of the colonists were tradesmen and farmers. Not a one had been in the military. Not a one knew more than the rudiments of loading and firing a musket.
So they drilled. Practicing speed. Wasting more powder than Jamie thought prudent. But he couldn’t ask these people to go into battle against d’Porteau unprepared.
And he refused to think this was a lost cause.
Refused to dwell on the similarities between this ragtag group facing d’Porteau, and the followers of the Young Pretender defying the better-equipped army of the Duke of Cumberland.
“Load.”
“Ram.”
“Fire!”
Over and over they practiced, until their muscles screamed and Jamie’s voice grew hoarse.
The strategy was simple.
When d’Porteau sailed into the harbor, there was to be no resistance. “Let him think his task an easy one,” Jamie told the group. “Lure him into our trap with acquiescence.”
Only after the Frenchman came ashore would he know of the settlers hidden behind the blinds that bracketed the beach—the blinds now being built of toppled palms and underbrush. Too late to retreat, the pirates would know the carnage of being caught in a cross fire.
“What of their cannon?” one man, a wheelwright asked. “Won’t the pirates left on board his ship know d’Porteau’s distress and fire on us?”
“Which is exactly what they might do,” Jamie answered the newly appointed sergeant. “Except that by this time sailors on board will be too busy battling the Lost Cause, which will have sailed around the spit yonder where it hides to bottle them into the harbor.”
“Do you think it will work?” Anne asked as evening shaded the island in gentle tones of mauve. She and Jamie had been on Libertia a sennight, and there had barely been time for more than a casual word between them. Even now, while most islanders were eating a simple repast, Anne expected the captain to be surrounded by people. She was pleased to find him alone, studying the camouflaged earthworks.
However, he didn’t appear pleased to see her. The lengthening shadows didn’t keep Anne from noticing his expression when he turned to stare at her.
Jamie took a deep breath, feeling compelled to speak the truth. “Let us pray it does, or we shall all pay dearly.” Jamie turned away, continuing his inspection, not surprised that she followed. He should turn back toward the village. Each step took them farther away from the only protection he had from her. The protection offered by civilization.
He had to remember they were no longer the only two people in their world, unfettered by what others thought. By their histories.
But when he was near her like this, when he could catch the sweet scent of her on the tropical air, hear her voice, reality seemed to fade.
“I’ve wanted to talk with you,” Anne began, wondering how honest she should be about her feelings and finally settling for a half truth. “To thank you for all you’re doing. It can’t be easy.” They’d reached the point where the thick growth of trees met the sea. “I... my uncle and I appreciate—”
“How is he doing?” Jamie stood, his feet spread, hands clasped behind him, staring out toward the bay and ocean beyond.
“Fine... at times.” Anne paused. “Actually he’s confused by all the goings-on, the gunfire. Israel’s with him now.”
“And does Israel know where ye are? That you’re here with me?” He turned his head to look at her and Anne resisted the urge to retreat a step.
“I... I don’t see where that’s any of Israel’s concern.”
“It should be someone’s care. Damnit, Annie, ’tisn’t right for ye to be down here with me alone.”
“And why not?” Anne was tired of speaking to his back and stepped in front of him. “Because you’re a pirate?”
“Aye,” Jamie agreed with a nod of his head. “’Tis a good enough reason.”
“We spent nearly a month alone together on our island.”
“A fact I hope you’ve the sense to keep to yourself.”
Anne lowered her lashes. “I haven’t told anyone here, no.” Raising her eyes she caught his gaze. “But that, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“Ye’d be best off forgetting it did.”
“I can’t.”
Her simple declaration seemed to splinter Jamie’s resolve. Reaching out he gave in to temptation and grasped her shoulders. She felt warm and soft beneath the simple dark bodice. “Ye are making a mistake, Annie Cornwall. One you’ll live to regret.”
She didn’t have a chance to disagree. His mouth assaulted hers, driving all but her need for him from Anne’s mind. With the pounding surf as a backdrop he pulled her body tightly to his.
His tongue sought hers, deepening the kiss, till there seemed to be no more Anne, no more pirate, only the whole they formed together.
He inched them toward the curtain of trees, reluctant to break the spell of their kiss. Shadows deepened and the breezes slowed as they stepped beneath the sheltering palms. But as Jamie pulled his lips from hers he knew they could still be seen. If someone were to walk onto the beach, there would be no more question of their relationship.
At first Anne clung to him as he pulled away, not knowing the r
eason. Caring only that she was losing him again. Then she saw his eyes nervously cut toward the beach.
“Come with me.” She took his hand leading him through the tangle of trees toward the interior of the island. There was no trail, but Anne knew her way unerringly. When the pirate questioned where they were going she silenced him with a fleeting kiss, then twisted away and pulled him along, laughing.
When they stepped from the overhang of leaves onto a beach bathed in the last subtle glow of the sun, Anne looked up at him. “I found this once when I was searching for a new place to locate the mill. At the time I thought it wasn’t much good for anything.” Her brown eyes twinkled. “I was wrong. It’s hidden and no one knows of it but me.”
Jamie glanced around. They stood on a curved crescent of sand surrounded by thick foliage. To the left and right coral rocks reached into the sea. The surf splashed over them noisily, hypnotically. It was a spot for lovers. It reminded him of—
“I know we no longer are on our island. We have other things to consider now besides ourselves,” Jamie heard her say... as if she could read his thoughts. “But for this one night can’t we just pretend nothing else exists?”
She stepped into his embrace then, smiling when his arms tightened about her.
“Ye know I want ye.”
But she could still sense his resistance. “And I want you.” Standing on tiptoe Anne brushed a string of kisses along his chiseled jaw. His eyes closed, the gold-tipped lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his body quickened.
“Ah, Annie, I can’t resist ye.” His open mouth melded with hers.
And Anne was lost.
When he lowered her to the sand, still warm from its afternoon sunbath, she sighed. Her tongue met his in a dance as old as time, a thrust and parry, a forecast of what was to come.
Then his lips trailed hungrily down her neck, nibbling at her tender skin. “Annie. Annie.” Jamie faced her, knee to knee, chest to chest. He couldn’t seem to get enough of saying her name. Of tasting her. Her head fell back giving him greater access.
Jamie reached up, tangling his fingers in her curls, dragging the lace cap and pins down into the sand. Pulling away enough to see her in the ever dimming light, Jamie spread the tangle of hair over her shoulders, smiling at the picture she made. “Ye are so lovely,” he whispered as his hands curved around to the front.
Her breasts strained against the linen fabric and she moaned when he brought his palms down over her bodice. “So lovely,” he said again as he slowly unlaced the ties holding her simple gown shut.
Like peeling away the petals of the most sensual flower, he pushed aside her gown, then plucked at the ribbon on her shift. Her breasts were full, thrusting forward, their crests hard and irresistible. Rarely one to resist temptation, Jamie leaned forward, flicking his tongue provocatively over each torrid rose-colored tip.
Then with a growl he pulled one nipple into his mouth, sucking, and biting, and sending fingers of sensation burning through Anne.
“Oh, please.” Anne grasped his golden head, pulling him closer. His hair was thick and curled around her fingers as she held on to him. And inside her an ache grew until she was trembling.
Didn’t he know what he did to her?
Anne’s fingers loosened their grip and she let her palms slide sensually down over his shoulders and chest. Lower and lower she went, twisting her hands around until his mouth left her body with his quick intake of breath. His forehead pressed between her breasts and his breath tingled the moist tips as he sighed. “Be ye angel or devil, Annie?”
“Neither.” Anne’s fingers continued to explore and measure the rock-hard ridge beneath his breeches. “A mere woman, Jamie.” A woman who loves you, she wanted to say, but didn’t. With shaking fingers she unfastened one, then another button, spreading the fabric until his flesh thrust out into her waiting hands.
“Oh, God, Annie, you’ll be the death of me yet.” Jamie bit his bottom lip as she brushed her fingertips up and across the top of his manhood. His breath was harsh and rasping as he tried to absorb the pleasure without completely losing control.
When she bent forward, touching him oh so gently with her lips, he knew the battle was lost. He grabbed her shoulders, jerking her up and against him, clenching his jaw and trying to calm himself.
“Did I hurt you?” Anne’s words were muffled into the warm skin of his chest.
“Nay.” Jamie sucked in humid, salty air. “Nay, Annie. Ye could never do that. But ’tis been awhile since we made love and I don’t think I can withstand such sweet torture as that.” He tilted her chin up, kissing her lips hungrily. Then he gently lowered her back onto the sand.
Jamie forced himself to undress her slowly, pressing his mouth to her sun-kissed skin. She writhed beneath him as he skimmed the dimple of her navel, crying out as his mouth searched for and found the tiny bud of her womanhood. Anne was swept up over the brink, chasing stars that exploded, swirling around her in the colors of the rainbow. And then he was leaning over her, blocking out the little light left in the sky with his broad shoulders.
Between them his staff throbbed as he lowered himself between Anne’s thighs. His first thrust was like coming home. Like the pleasure of a feast after a long stretch of hunger. The first drink of clear, cold water to a parched man.
Jamie sank into her body, fighting the strong urge to move, and simply relished the feel of her, tight as a sheath gloving his flesh. She was hot and slick and on a grunt of pure male satisfaction he retreated only to drive deeper.
Her slender legs wrapped up and around his hips, locking him to her as he rocked them back and forth with each powerful thrust, Jamie’s hands plunged beneath her buttocks, lifting her against him. And this time when she cried out, when her body soared helplessly into ecstatic oblivion, he joined her, pumping his seed deep into her womb.
They collapsed together onto the sand, Jamie turning and pulling her into his arms. They lay still waiting for their breathing to quiet, for their heartbeats to return to normal.
Jamie pulled her close, resting Anne’s head on his shoulder, twisting down to plant a soft kiss on her hair. “Ye make me forget my wits, Annie.”
“Mmmm.”
Her agreement, a mere sigh of contentment, made Jamie smile. He hugged her to him, tightening his hold... wishing he never had to let her go.
“I should probably get ye back to your cottage.”
“Must we go now?” Anne squirmed against his side, draping her arm across his chest and tangling her fingers in the thick mat of golden hair. “I’ve missed you.”
Craning his neck, Jamie tried to catch sight of her face, but all he could see was a sweep of tangled, sand-sugared hair. Jamie bent his free arm, pillowing his head, and shut his eyes. “I’ve missed ye, too.”
“You have?” Anne twisted around, lying partially on top of him, her chin cupped in her palm. “I know it’s silly because we were stranded there, but sometimes I wish we could go back to our island, just the two of us.”
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
Anne smiled at that, then rested her check against the warm, hair-roughened skin of his chest. “Everything seemed so simple there. No worry beyond where our next meal would come from.”
“I kept us in fish.”
“That you did.” Anne drew lazy circles along the ridge of muscle.
“Besides, I think you’re forgetting we also feared d’Porteau. The shark. We had our problems there, too.”
“You’re right. I suppose it just seemed easier because you were there.”
“I’m here now.” Jamie drew his hand down over her silky curls, letting his fingers caress the smooth skin of her cheek. He wished there was something else he could do... something to ease her mind.
But he could offer her nothing but the heat of his body and his protection against d’Porteau. And for all the anguish the French pirate caused, Jamie didn’t think he was Anne’s main concern as she lay in his arms.
She confirm
ed his belief moments later.
Her voice was soft and low. “Uncle Richard appears to grow more...” Anne hesitated. “Disoriented.” She shifted to search the shadows for his expression. “Have you noticed?”
He’d noticed. When Jamie first came to Libertia, Richard’s confusion was, for the most part, harmless. He forgot who you were, and misplaced time, but there wasn’t the underlying anger Jamie sensed now. It was as if the constant befuddlement was becoming more than he could handle.
“Mayhap when there is no more worry over the Frenchman...”
“Yes... I suppose that will help.” But Anne didn’t think so. She sighed, dropping her cheek back down to his chest when he spoke again.
“My mother was mad.” The fingers that were gently stroking his skin stilled. “She wasn’t like your uncle... at least I don’t think she was.” Jamie took a deep breath, hoping it would calm him. It didn’t. He’d never spoken to anyone about this, not even his father. Especially not his father.
He wasn’t certain why he felt compelled to share this private torment with Anne, but he knew he couldn’t stop now. “She cried... nearly all the time. And she would scream and throw things. Dishes... anything.”
“At you?” Anne braced her arm around his arm, holding him.
“Nay, never at me. She was always very kind and gentle to me. She called me her spot of sunshine.” Jamie’s voice grew gruff and he cleared his throat. “At least that’s as I recall it. I was very young. But I remember hearing the shattering glass, the screaming. Then being called into the drawing room by my father and shown the mess.” Jamie shut his eyes. “He wouldn’t allow the servants to clear away the broken shards. He said it was best to remind everyone of just how mad she was.”
Anne swallowed. “What happened to her?”
“He sent her away.”
“Away?”
“Aye, to a place where madwomen were kept.... That’s what he told me.” His voice caught. “I never saw her again. He told me she died.”
Anne pushed herself up until she could see the outline of his face. Her hand cupped around his cheek. Gently she wiped at the moisture there. “I’m so sorry.”
My Seaswept Heart Page 25