by Sea Fires
Miranda shaded her eyes and scanned the deck, stopping only when she realized she was searching for the tall, golden-haired captain. She dropped her hand quickly. What was wrong with her? If anything, she should be hoping she didn’t run into the arrogant man.
She hadn’t laid eyes on him since yesterday morning, and her day had progressed quite nicely without him. She didn’t need or want another encounter.
And she had no idea why she’d dreamed of him last night.
“Is Phin telling it true?”
Miranda swirled around at the sound of the deep voice behind her and came face to naked chest with a blackamoor. She tilted her head until she could see his face, then cringed back until the rail bit into her spine. He was huge—even larger than the pirate captain, though she would have thought that impossible. And his cheeks were tattooed with peculiar markings.
He watched her as intently as she did him, but though he looked menacing, he made no move toward her.
“Can’t ye see yer scaring her ladyship.” Phin gave the giant of a man a small shove. “This here is King. I done told him about seein’ them animals in the water.”
Miranda stood as tall as she could and straightened her skirt. “You’re not frightening me, Mr. King, truly.” Miranda didn’t always tell the truth. “And, yes, Mr. Phin did see the animalcules in the water. Actually we came on deck to get some oceanwater so we can compare them.”
By the time Miranda climbed down through the hatch, she’d promised to let not only King but several other pirates see the secrets unveiled by her microscope.
“I never realized the crew would be so interested in science,” she observed as Phin escorted her along the companionway.
“After I done tol’ ‘em what I seen, they was.”
“Well, I think it’s wonder—” Miranda stopped suddenly when she noticed the cabin door was ajar. Pushing it open the rest of the way, she stepped inside, her hands clamped on her hips, her eyes filled with angry sparks when she saw her precious microscope being manhandled.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Jack straightened and speared the irritating woman with his stormy gaze. “What am I doing? I should think the question is, what are you doing?”
Miranda raised her chin. “I was under the impression my excursions on deck were approved by you. Irregardless, that gives you no right to—”
“I don’t give a damn about your excursions on deck.” Actually he did. When Phin suggested them Jack thought they would be the perfect opportunity to come below to his cabin without running into his captive. “However, I do wish to know what you did with my charts.” Each word grew louder, so by the end of his sentence Jack was yelling. And he rarely yelled. He wasn’t known as Gentleman Jack Blackstone for nothing.
“They were yours?”
“Aye! They were mine. What did you think? And where the hell are they?”
“Cap’n, there’s no call to—”
Jack’s stare shifted to Phin, whom he hadn’t even noticed till now “Don’t you have duties elsewhere, Mr. Sharpe?”
“Aye, Cap’n, but—”
“Phin!”
Miranda watched as the pirate she almost looked upon as an ally retreated through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. When she turned back to the pirate captain he was regarding her intently.
“Well?”
“I put them in that sea chest.” Miranda indicated the trunk near the foot of the bunk. But before the pirate could move, she continued. “Do you suppose you could put down my microscope... gently?”
Jack had forgotten he was still holding the damn thing, but he did as she asked, adding a mocking bow after placing it on his desk. Then he went in search of his maps. They were indeed in the chest in neat stacks and rolls. Glancing over his shoulder, Jack caught her examining her microscope, acting as if he’d done something to it. “In the future,” he said, “refrain from moving my things.”
She stood and met his stare. “Then, I suggest you remove your things from my cabin.”
“Your cabin!” Jack dropped the maps. “This is my cabin.”
“Yours?”
“Whose did you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Miranda gnawed on her thumbnail a moment. “I suppose I thought it was a cabin for people you kidnapped for ransom. You did say it was done all the time, and I can’t imagine you like giving up your cabin much.”
“I didn’t say I did it all the time,” Jack corrected. “This happens to be a first. And frankly, it will be my last.”
Miranda shrugged. “That’s probably for the best.”
“I’m sure it is.” Jack began rearranging his charts. “In the meantime, remove your things from my desk so I can—”
“Where am I to put my microscope?”
Jack shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I really don’t know, nor do I care.”
Miranda could tell he was angry... very angry. And his sheer size made him formidable. Carefully she picked up her microscope and laid it in the crate.
The pirate captain gave her a smug smile, then spread his charts on the desk’s surface. With that he straddled the chair and began studying his maps. Miranda stood to the side. She tried not to notice the way his thigh muscles bulged against the fabric of his breeches. But she couldn’t seem to look away.
She’d seen copies of da Vinci’s sketches of human musculature, but she’d never seen such a fine example. The pirate captain should have been used as a model for the drawings. But since he wasn’t, perhaps she could sketch him.
Grandfather always told her she was very good with chalk. She couldn’t let the pirate know what she was about to do, but if she carefully kept her eyes on him, she could probably do a good job. Though he wore a white, billowy shirt today, she remembered what his chest and arms looked like without it.
Miranda swallowed. In the past, while studying works on the human body, she hadn’t experienced this warm, quavery feeling inside, but now staring at the pirate—
“What are you doing?”
Miranda’s eyes snapped to the captain’s, and she felt heat flood her face. He was looking at her in a way that made that honey feeling inside hotter and more molten. “I... I...” She couldn’t come up with any logical explanation for what she was doing because she honestly didn’t know.
“Whatever, I suggest you remember that I’m the pirate and you’re the captive and stop looking at me that way.”
“I... don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stood, and Miranda resisted the urge to back up.
“I think you do. And if you don’t wish to end up on your back with your skirts flipped over your head, you’ll remember my warning.”
Miranda’s face grew redder. Of all the insulting things. The man was a scoundrel beyond compare. “I believe you assured me I would be safe from rape.”
“I’m not talking about rape, Mistress Chadwick. And I think we both know it.”
Miranda did take a step back now. And then another. His eyes were narrowed, and he had a self-satisfied expression on his face that she found infuriating. “I have no idea—”
He was beside her so quickly that Miranda had no time to question his actions. “You lie very poorly,” was all he said before his mouth crushed down on hers.
She’d heard of kissing before—even the man and woman kissing that had nothing to do with the way her grandfather and father greeted her. But never had she imagined it to be anything like this.
Those strange feelings she worked to keep under control came blossoming forth. He was hard and hot, and Miranda imagined she could feel all the muscles in his body, while those within her seemed to melt away.
His hands grasped her arms; his mouth moved sensually over hers. And then he pulled away.
Miranda stared up at him, stunned. What in the world had happened? She searched her mind for some rational explanation for what she was feeling, and could find none.
For at that moment she longed to cling to his
arm and beg him to kiss her again. He looked as if he might without being asked. But instead he turned and slammed out of the cabin, leaving Miranda to make sense of what happened.
Chapter Five
“Damn!”
Jack hit the heel of his hand against a bulwark and cursed again. What in the hell was wrong with him? How could he do something so stupid?
All right. Perhaps he’d done stupid things before. But kissing Miranda Chadwick had to take the prize as the most stupid.
She was Henry’s daughter. And if that wasn’t enough, she was strange. Strange and complex. Jack didn’t like complex women... and he certainly wasn’t enamored of strange ones. Give him a nice, simple, good-hearted wench with a full luscious body and he was happy.
So why was he spending so much time thinking of his captive? Perhaps he did find her appearance pleasant. But large, deep blue eyes and a rosy mouth couldn’t make up for her weird behavior or who she was.
He liked a good tumble as well as the next man, maybe more. But he could control himself.
And he certainly had no intentions of seducing Henry Chadwick’s daughter.
So why did he kiss her?
“Maybe I’m just tired of her high and mighty attitude and that damn microscope.”
“What’s that, Cap’n?”
Jack spun around to see Scar Smite coming along the companionway. The oscillating light from the lantern threw grotesque shadows across the disfigured cheek for which he was named. “Nothing,” Jack said, turning back toward the ladder leading up through the hatch. “ ‘Twas nothing.”
Now he was talking to himself. God’s blood, nothing had gone right since he attacked that British ship and encountered Miranda Chadwick.
De Segovia hadn’t been on board as Jack hoped. Then he’d sailed south to see if he could discover any more about the rumor that de Segovia was returning to St. Augustine—only to learn nothing. If it wasn’t for the Spanish galleon the Sea Hawk had taken, it would have been a wasted trip.
Then, of course, he had sailed into Charles Town’s harbor ready for some peace and quiet, not to mention female companionship, only to be waylaid by Henry and his hair-brained scheme.
Jack shook his head as he came out on deck. No wonder he couldn’t keep his thoughts off Miranda Chadwick. He’d been too long without a woman. Something he would remedy the next time he set foot in a port.
With that explanation for the kiss resolved, Jack lifted his eyes to examine the sails. He pushed from his mind the niggling thought that there was more to it than that, and completely ignored the flame of desire he had felt when his lips touched hers.
“Come, look at this.” Miranda rose from the chair and motioned for Phin to take her place. King and another pirate, introduced to her by the uncomplimentary name of Scar, stood on the opposite side of the desk.
“Gawd’s but it’s ugly.” Phin screwed up his face in disgust.
“Get your arse outta that chair and give me a look.” Scar shoved at Phin’s shoulder, and Miranda resisted the urge to grab up her microscope and clutch it safely to her breast. But Phin moved, apparently anxious for someone else to view the horrid creature.
“Yowl.” Scar’s face registered as much revulsion as Phin’s had. “When I think of how many of ‘em I done ate over the years, I come mighty close to retchin’. Look at them devils, King.”
The huge blackamoor’s reaction was similar to the other two’s, but at least he didn’t threaten to vomit.
When they’d all had their fill of scrutinizing the maggot Miranda had placed beneath the lenses of her microscope, she was offered the chair. After placing a piece of parchment on the desk, she dipped her quill into the ink pot.
“What ye doin’ now?”
“Making a sketch of what I see,” Miranda explained as the pirates drew closer. For the last four days since Phin first looked through the microscope, pirates had been stopping by the cabin to see if the quartermaster was telling the truth of what he saw. Most all the men showed a curiosity that Miranda found wonderful. And even if they did ask so many questions and want to take so many looks through the lenses that she barely had time for her own experiment’s, she didn’t mind
Not all the pirates came to the cabin. The pirate captain remained conspicuously absent. Miranda hadn’t seen him since the day he kissed her. Even when she went on deck, he was nowhere to be found. Since the Sea Hawk wasn’t that large a vessel, Miranda assumed he planned it that way.
And that was fine with her. She didn’t want to be around him any more than he apparently wanted to be around her. Just remembering the gall of the man to kiss her like that made Miranda furious. And to imply that she wanted him to do it. Miranda nearly shook with rage. She should have slapped him! Yes, that’s definitely what she should have done.
And she would have if not for the total daze that kiss had put her in. She could barely remember the pirate captain leaving the cabin.
Miranda blinked, looked around her and noticed the pirates watching her intently. That’s when she realized she was sitting motionless, her quill poised above the parchment. She quickly set about sketching the maggot.
But just as the tip of the quill touched the paper a bellowed yell startled her, and she jerked, spoiling the drawing.
The pirates from huge King to wiry little Phin stiffened as the roar sounded again.
“Phin! Where in the hell is everybody?”
“Gawd’s teeth, I was supposed to be collecting a chart for the cap’n.”
“He sent me below to fetch you,” King admitted.
Scar shrugged. “I’m to be scrubbin’ the deck.”
Miranda glanced from one pirate to the other. They’d gone pale beneath their sun-darkened faces—except for King, but he looked equally distressed. And all because they had spent a little time with her. Perhaps it was more than a little, but still...
“I’m certain your captain will understand if I simply explain to him your interest in—”
“Gawd, yer ladyship, don’t do that.” Phin was busy searching through the charts and maps Miranda had pushed to the side of the desk. She hadn’t the nerve to remove them completely again, even if they did interfere with her work.
Phin’s expression brightened as he found the chart the captain wanted. “Just stay here, yer ladyship, and draw some pictures of them maggots. We’ll be just fine.”
There was a grumble of agreement as the three hurried from the cabin, leaving Miranda to wonder what kind of hold the pirate captain had that made these three men quake from fear when he bellowed.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Jack glared at Phin as he scurried up the quarterdeck ladder. “I’ve almost missed the noon reading.”
“Sorry, Cap’n.” Phin handed over the chart. “Visited the head. Somethin’ I et ain’t sittin’ right!’
Jack shook his head, then sighted the horizon through the quadrant. He supposed part of the fault for the late reading was his own. He could have gone below and retrieved the chart himself. Except he didn’t want to see Miranda Chadwick. Lord, the woman was keeping him away from his own cabin.
It was almost—Jack cringed—as if he were afraid of her. God’s blood, he was a pirate! He feared no one. And most certainly not a wisp of a woman.
He didn’t recall his men being such persnickety eaters. Jack took a healthy bite of beef and chewed... and chewed. Granted it was tough as an old rope—they didn’t call it salt junk for nothing. But still the way Phin, King and the others were picking at it, you’d think it was poison.
Maybe they always ate this way and he just wasn’t here to see it. Before the ill-conceived kidnapping, as Jack had come to think of his taking of Miranda Chadwick, he’d eaten in his cabin. Now the little lady had that privilege.
Of course eating in the crew’s quarters on boards hinged to the wall wasn’t the worst of it. He had to sleep here, too. When he was younger—and shorter—before becoming the Sea Hawk’s captain, he’d slept down here. And he hadn’t really
minded it. But now that he was used to a bunk, lengthened to fit his stature, with a feather-filled mattress, a six-by-three-foot canvas hammock was hellishly uncomfortable.
Between doubling his six-foot-four-inch body into the canvas and the belches and snores of the crew, Jack had gotten little sleep since the kidnapping.
But he imagined Miranda Chadwick slept just fine, all soft and warm in his bed. Jack took another bite and found his mind wandering to what it would be like to cuddle up with her. To feel her smooth pale skin and smell her warm, womanly smell. Then he’d kiss her like he did the other day. She’d wrap her arms around him and open to him on a sweet sigh. She really did have a nice voice—except when she was screeching at him. Or talking in that heathen Spanish.
Jack jerked himself out of his reverie. God’s blood, he had to stop thinking about that woman. His eyes focused on Phin and narrowed. “What are you doing?”
Phin looked up guiltily and brushed hardtack crumbs to the deck with one sweep of his gnarled hand. “Ain’t doin’ nothin’, Cap’n.”
“Well, it looked to me as if —”
“I was pickin’ out maggots if ye must know,” Phin interrupted.
“What the hell for?”
Phin’s expression was incredulous. “I ain’t too happy ‘bout eatin’ em.”
Jack looked down at his own round of sea bread, could find nothing different about it than the hundreds of biscuits he’d eaten over the years, and then back at Phin. “I don’t understand.”
“‘If ye could see one of them slimy devils, you’d feel a mite different,” Scar piped in.
“What are you talking about?” His crew was acting stranger and stranger.
“Nothin’. He ain’t talkin’ ‘bout nothin’,” Phin said. He slid off the bench, giving Scar a kick in the shin as he moved by. “I ain’t hungry no more. Better get back on deck.”
Jack had a mind to question Scar and King. But they were now stuffing their mouths with hardtack, each looking like he was ready to retch. And suddenly Jack felt a little queasy himself as he stared down at the beef swimming in its greasy broth and the maggot-infested sea bread. Pushing his trencher aside, he stood and headed above deck.