“Spoken like a true witch.”
“And I warn you, ye thick-headed jackass, if ye try to cheat me ...”
Cursing him roundly, she went below and slammed the hatch shut. Why did he have to go and spoil everything just when she was so happy?
“He showed his true colors,” she muttered to Harry. “A common pirate who thinks he’s a bloody prince. A smart horse can do the same thing.” She glanced down at the blankets where she and James had lain together such a short time ago, and a lump formed in her throat.
He did care for her. No matter what he said, she knew he did.
But he was a good-for-nothing rogue, and he’d forget her when some woman prettier or more obliging came along. Until then, she’d use him as he thought he was using her. She sat down on the blanket and pulled the cat into her arms and rubbed his fur with her cheek.
“You’ve more loyalty in one paw that he has in all six feet and more of him,” she whispered to Harry. “And when I’m a wealthy woman, ye shall have fish and milk to eat every day.”
James rapped on the hatch loudly. “Come up, Lacy,” he called. “Don’t sulk down there. There’s something I want you to see.”
“Such as?”
“I’m sorry if I insulted you. Call yourself brownie or banshee or devil worshipper, if it pleases you.”
Lacy made the sign against evil. “Don’t say such things,” she shouted back. “I’m no child of Satan.”
“Good. Now, come up.”
Sullenly, she climbed the ladder and looked where he pointed. Far to the west she sighted a dark form rising above the horizon. “Is it land?” she cried. “Truly?”
“You’re damned right, that’s land! It’s Trinidad or maybe Tobago. We’re still a long way from Arawak Island, but we’ve done it. We crossed the Atlantic!” He picked her up and kissed her, then swung her in a gay circle and kissed her again. “Damn if we didn’t,” he exclaimed, setting her back on her feet. “And we didn’t make bad time either.”
“Aye.” She held her hand over her eyes to cut the glare and stared at the blue blur in the distance. “We did it.” Bubbles of excitement rose in her throat and she felt like dancing.
“I knew I could,” James mumbled half under his breath. “Eat your heart out, Henry Morgan. I’ve come back and I’m going to strip you of what you thought to steal from better men than you’ll ever be.”
An inner warning curbed Lacy’s elation. “Don’t forget that it was me who helped ye reach the Caribbean. I’ve listened to your tall tales of treasure, and I bet my life on you. Now, ye must prove what you’re made of. And I swear, James Black, if this is all naught but sailors’ lies, I’ll cut your heart out.”
He rested one booted foot on the raised deck over the cuddy, and his dark eyes took on a faraway look. “Oh, there’s a treasure, Lacy. Never fear about that. It’s the retrieving of it that may prove a tiny bit tricky.”
Chapter 10
Lacy opened her eyes and listened, not certain if she’d heard something above her on the deck or not. It was the hour before dawn, when the night stars were blinking out and the eastern rim of the earth took on a faint glow.
They were anchored off the windward side of a nameless island in the Lesser Antilles, three days after they had first sighted land. James was sleeping soundly beside her. Their last argument hadn’t continued long. It had ended—like most of their other clashes—in wild, abandoned lovemaking. Since then, things had been peaceful on the Silkie. As peaceful as they could be when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him and he couldn’t pass her without touching her. And although Lacy hadn’t been ashore yet, James had promised her that they could explore the beach in the morning.
Pffsss!
Lacy sat up and shook James. That sound was definitely Harry, and he was hissing at something he didn’t like. “James,” she whispered. “Wake up. Something’s out there.”
There was another sound, the dull clink of metal against metal. James sprang bolt upright, eyes open and muscles tensed. He reached for his loaded pistol at the same instant that the tomcat’s grumbling became a high-pitched snarl. “Stay below,” James ordered in a low, urgent whisper.
He took the ladder in two leaps and fired his flintlock before he was fully out of the cabin. “Boarders!” he shouted to Lacy. “Arm yourself!”
She heard a man cry out in agony, and then running footsteps across the deck. A stranger cursed and something heavy struck the mast. Lacy peered out of the hatchway to see a hideous face appear over the gunnel on the port side. Clenched in the apparition’s bared teeth was an eighteen-inch-long knife.
Pirates! Lacy screamed silently. We’ve been overrun by pirates!
Time seemed to stand still as she surveyed the Silkie’s deck. Not six feet away, between the mainsail and the cabin, James was struggling with a giant brown-skinned man. As she watched in horror, the blackamoor raised a gleaming cutlass over James’s head. James caught his assailant’s wrist and tried to force it back. Muscles bunched and sweat broke out on their naked bodies as they became locked in mortal combat.
Then another brigand caught sight of her in the hatchway. Howling with inhuman glee, he yanked a hatchet out of the mainmast, where it had been buried a good inch, and ran toward her. There was a sudden black blur, accompanied by a high-pitched merowl, as Harry streaked between the cutthroat’s legs and dived past Lacy into the bottom of the boat.
Mouth dry and heart pounding, Lacy let go and dropped back down into the dark cuddy. Twisting around, she flattened herself into the shadows beside the ladder. Seconds later, the shrieking marauder leaped down after her. Bile rose in her throat as the acrid stench of the uncured hides he was wearing filled the small cabin. The man landed with his back to the ladder and staggered to catch his balance. Then the tomcat snarled and the intruder whirled toward Harry.
It was the chance Lacy was waiting for. She seized a gallon keg of brandy from the shelf beside her and brought it smashing down on the back of the pirate’s skull. He went down like a poled ox. “Take that, ye stupid son of a bitch!” she said.
The stench of him was almost more than she could bear. He smelled like rotting meat. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the hatchet from his left hand and raised it to deliver the death blow. Just before she brought the blade down, her bare foot struck something hard. She nudged it with her toe, and a flintlock pistol slid into the dim light. Unconsciously, she passed the small ax to her left hand and bent to pick up the gun.
Harry let out a low hiss, and Lacy looked up to see the outline of a man’s head in the open hatchway. The rosy light of dawn was behind him—his features were as dark as pitch. “James? Is that—” She smelled him in the same heartbeat that he hurled the knife at her. A burning sensation shot up her arm, but she didn’t hesitate. Raising the pistol, she took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.
The flintlock’s kick threw her across the cabin. The echo of the explosion left her momentarily deaf as the pirate tumbled down through the hatchway. Half-stunned, she fumbled for the hatchet. She could feel something warm running down her arm, but the source of the wound was numb. She shook her head to clear her vision. She didn’t have time to think about herself—she had to help James.
Climbing over both bodies, she raced up the ladder, ax in hand. Harry, hair bristling and tail like a bottle brush, clawed his way up her back and fled onto the deck.
As Lacy emerged from the hatch, she nearly tripped over the sprawled body of the huge bloody blackamoor. James was at the stern of the boat, swinging a Scottish claymore. His back was to the tiller, and he was attempting to hold off two fierce-looking pirates—both wielding cutlasses. One of the men was tall with a scraggly red beard and a bald head. The second was shorter, dark-haired, and round as a barrel.
Lacy went cold all over as she saw the blood on James. He was bleeding from cuts on his neck, his chest, and his thigh, but because of the skill he was exhibiting with the heavy sword, she was certain none of his wounds was mortal.
“Get out of here!” James yelled to her. His closest opponent, the redbeard, delivered a slashing overhand blow with his cutlass. James brought the claymore up to block the attack, and the blades clashed with a resonant clank. Redbeard stepped back and parried, obviously trying to trap James in the tight corner between the tiller and the stern.
The dark fat man hesitated, cutlass raised, obviously trying to decide whether he should continue the fight with James or come after her.
Lacy stopped short and waited, unsure of what to do. She knew she should have reloaded the flintlock pistol before she came on deck, but it was too late for that now. The precious moments it would take for her to go back down, find ball and shot, and reload, might be too long. She had to do something now.
She glanced down at the wound on her arm. It was bleeding and it hurt like hell, but it wasn’t bad enough to impair her strength or her thinking. She looked back at James, wincing every time the pirate slashed at him with his cutlass. It was obvious to her that James was a competent swordsman—but even an outstanding bladesman couldn’t hold out forever against two assailants.
Redbeard shouted something in Spanish to his companion, and the fat man turned back toward James. As he did, he noticed Harry racing along the gunnel and struck the cat with the flat of his sword, knocking him off the Silkie and into the water.
“Ye swivin’ bastard!” Lacy yelled.
The dark-haired pirate lunged at James with a swinging blow that would have taken off James’s leg if he hadn’t leaped into the air. As James came down, he brought the claymore across the man’s neck, nearly cleaving his head from his shoulders. Arterial blood squirted, and Lacy screamed as the redbearded man took the opportunity to hack at James’s exposed side.
James tried to wrench his claymore free, then threw himself back away from the cutlass when his own weapon stuck fast in flesh and bone. The blade cut a furrow down James’s hip, and the remaining pirate laughed as he prepared to finish James off now that he was unarmed.
Lacy let out a whoop of fury and charged, whirling the hatchet around her head. Redbeard turned to defend himself from this new attack. When she was close enough to see the cast in the brigand’s right eye, she let go of the ax. He put up his arm to protect his head and the blade slashed his arm. At almost the same instant, James drove his fist into the small of the man’s back.
The pirate crashed to the deck with James on top of him. Twisting around, he tried to thrust his fingers into James’s eyes. James captured the man’s hand with his own left one and struck him in the face with his right fist. The pirate’s right hand was locked around James’s throat.
Lacy grabbed up the hatchet and tried to help James, but the two were thrashing around so violently that she was afraid she’d hit the wrong man by mistake. Then they rolled and scrambled to their feet. James snatched the hatchet from Lacy’s hand and buried it in the pirate’s chest. The pirate gasped, staggered forward, and tumbled over the side into the sea.
Suddenly remembering Harry, Lacy ran to the edge of the boat. There was no sign of the pirate who had just fallen in. The bright, aqua-blue water was as smooth as glass. Then a huge shark fin cut the surface. “My cat,” she murmured in despair. “They killed Harry.”
Her courage melted away and she sank onto the deck. Common sense told her that a cat’s life was nothing when she and James had come so close to losing their own. But Harry did matter. He did. Ragged fur and evil disposition be damned. She loved him. Tears filled her eyes, and she struggled to keep from making a total fool of herself. “They killed Harry,” she repeated, sniffling.
James took hold of her shoulders and pulled her up, crushing her against his bloodstained chest. He buried his face in her hair. “You’re crying over a damned cat?” he murmured. “After all this?”
“Bastards!” She jerked free and kicked at the body of the barrel-shaped man. “Damn them all to hell! Futterin’ dogsbodies.”
“Shhh,” he said. “You’re hurt, woman. Let me see that arm.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head. She kicked the dead pirate again. “He killed Harry for nothing. Nothing.” She dashed away her tears. “Throw him after the other one,” she said. “Let the sharks have him.”
James stared at her for a moment. She met his inquiring gaze with one that did not waver. Nodding, he picked up the corpse and let it slide over the stern of the boat. “You’re a fierce one, Lacy Bennett.”
“I’m only sorry he’s dead.”
James nodded again, then grinned at her. “You’re not a bad wench to have around. The two of them might have cut me up some if you hadn’t helped out.”
“Cut ye?” She rested her fists on her hips and stared at him in astonishment. “Cut ye?” she scoffed. “Marry come up! If it weren’t for me, ye’d be shark bait along with the rest of these pirates.”
“Pirates?” He grimaced. “You call these dog shit pirates? Not likely. Ship’s deserters maybe, or runaway slaves or criminals. The Brotherhood wouldn’t sail with the likes of these. What kind of buccaneers were they if six of them—”
“Six?” she contested. “Course, I never had no schoolin’, but there was five by my count.”
“The black, the Carib I threw over the side after I killed the first one, those two”—he indicated the stern of the boat—“and the two you did for in the cabin.”
“I never saw—what did you call him, a Carib? I’m not countin’ any dead pirate I never saw. A tale spinner like you be, James Black, ye could claim a dozen.”
He examined the cut on his thigh dispassionately. “As I was saying,” he continued, “what kind of buccaneers were they if six of them could be whipped by one man and a redheaded woman? No, they weren’t pirates. This beach scum was just out for an evening sail, hoping to find some easy pickings. You couldn’t call them pirates, not by a long shot.” He rolled the blackamoor to the gunnel. “Give me a hand here, can’t you?”
“What do ye need my help for?” she said sarcastically, sitting down on the raised cabin, suddenly weak in the knees and fighting dizziness. “I’m just a woman.”
Grunting under the strain, James heaved the big man up and over. The body hit the water with a splash.
James turned back to her. “You look a little pale. You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” She took a few deep breaths, determined to bear up. After all, the pirates were dead. What good would it do to panic now? Tears and womanly fancies would win her no points with James. “I’m fine,” she repeated, and she discovered that it was true. She was all right.
It felt good to be alive with the sun shining warm on her face and James beside her. She’d done well, and she knew it. Even Red Tom Bennett would have been proud of her. She straightened her shoulders and looked down at her bloodstained shift.
“I hope the blood will come out of this,” she murmured.
“If it doesn’t, I’ll buy you a new one. Hell, I’ll buy you a dozen.”
“If the treasure’s what ye say it is, I’ll buy myself so many shifts I can wear a new one every day,” she said. “And colored petticoats and silk stockings.”
“As many as you like.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “We need to clean that gash on your arm, little one. Wounds go bad fast in the tropics.”
She nodded. “Ye be hurt far worse than me. I vow you’ve lost enough blood to fill a sack bottle.”
He shook his head, letting his hand run up to rest on her hair. “Some salt water and a few stitches will do for me. We were lucky, damned lucky.”
She leaned against him, suddenly tired. There were things that needed doing. The Silkie would have to be scrubbed clean, and the vermin below disposed of, but she felt drained. She reached for James’s hand a
nd squeezed it tightly. “I was scared,” she admitted.
“No more than me.” His deep voice rumbled up from his chest like far-off thunder. “No more than me, sweet. I want to die no more than any man born of woman, and I sure as hell didn’t want to die before I finished what I started off to do, but . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed beneath his tanned and bloodstained throat, and his black eyes clouded with emotion. “I was afraid I’d fail you,” he said.
She brought the back of his hand to her cheek and rubbed it against her face, feeling the soft texture of the black hairs against her lips. “But ye didn’t,” she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “Ye didn’t fail me.”
He bent and kissed the crown of her head, then pulled free and moved away, the tension in his shoulders telling her that he was uneasy with this unaccustomed show of sentiment.
A ripple of pride washed through Lacy as she watched him turn toward the stern and stand motionless, staring off into the sunrise. Naked, dirty, and bloodstained, James Black was the equal of any man she’d ever seen, highborn or rogue. He carried himself like a prince, and he was as courageous as a cornered badger. She moistened her lips and sighed, trying to remember that she couldn’t let herself fall in love with this black-eyed devil. He’d break her heart, if she let him. Shatter her heart and soul ... and never look back.
Lacy straightened her shoulders and let the weariness fall away. There were things that needed doing, and she was never one to put off hard tasks. The sun was up far enough now for her to see the pirate’s open sloop lying at anchor a few hundred feet away. “That’s what they came on,” she said.
“Looks like it,” he replied.
The boat was a sorry-looking craft with one ragged sail and a leaking hull. Lacy went forward and stood on the raised cabin to get a better look.
Merowl.
She caught her breath, not daring to believe what she’d heard.
Merowl.
“Harry! Harry!” she cried. There, clinging upside down to the anchor line, was the tomcat, wet and pitiful-looking. “Poor Harry.” She ran to the bowsprit and began to pull in the rope, hand over hand. When the cat was close enough to reach, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to safety. “Poor thing,” she crooned.
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