by Sea Fires
All the while, Miranda kept to the trail and estimated how far she’d come. She was beginning to feel uneasy about the time she’d been away. Pirate or no, she didn’t like to worry Captain Blackstone. Besides, she’d been on the receiving end of his temper, though she had to admit she could find no fault with the way he’d expressed his anger the last time. Yet, she supposed she couldn’t count on being kissed whenever he was upset with her.
With a sigh she crouched down to pick her last specimen, a crimson wildflower, before turning back. She twisted to put the blossom in her skirt.
And saw the feet.
They were large, a coppery brown, and as she allowed her gaze to rise she found them connected to sturdy bare legs. Her eyes flew upward, and she gasped, falling back on her bottom and nearly spilling all her plants.
The man was tall, almost as tall as the captain, and he wore almost nothing on his body— nothing, that is, except the drawings that decorated his chest and face. He said something in a low guttural language that Miranda didn’t understand, then crossed his arms as if waiting for her to respond.
“I don’t understand,” she said in English, then French, then Spanish. The man’s dark brows rose when she said the last, but other than that he gave no sign that he comprehended what she said. He just continued to stare at her from eyes as dark as midnight. And Miranda wished she’d stayed on board the Sea Hawk.
“Who are you?” Miranda finally asked. His response could have been a name, or it could have been anything else, Miranda had never come up against a language quite like this one.
The man was an Indian; she was sure of it. She’d read accounts of Indians and had even seen a volume of The Drawings of John White in which he’d sketched Indians—who looked amazingly like this one. If only she could communicate with him, perhaps they could—
He grabbed her so quickly that Miranda didn’t have time to do more than let out a squeal of protest... that is, till she noticed her collected specimens floating to the ground. Then she turned to let the Indian have it, but he clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the underbrush.
Suddenly the loss of her collection seemed unimportant. She was going to be killed by this Indian. She tried to fight him, but his arms lashed around her and his hand tightened over her mouth. Miranda blinked at him over his hand, and he nodded his head in the direction of the path.
Miranda could swear he was trying to tell her something. But what?
He hunched over behind the bushes and pulled Miranda down beside him. Thorns tore into her bodice, and tears welled in her eyes. Oh, God. First captured by a pirate, now an Indian. She waited for him to do something, but he had become still, his dark head cocked to one side as if listening.
Miranda concentrated, and she could hear something, too. Someone was running, pounding down the path toward them. Hope sprang to her breast. Could it be Captain Blackstone? But if it was, would the Indian kill him? The footfalls came nearer, louder, and Miranda’s heart seemed to pound with the rhythm.
And then they were passing, going beyond where she and the Indian hid. She couldn’t even see if it was Captain Blackstone. Maybe it was another Indian. She was sure it was when her Indian stood, dragging her up behind him, and called out a greeting.
The footsteps stopped, but Miranda didn’t want to see any more Indians. She shut her eyes and prayed her captors would give her a quick death.
“God’s blood!”
That voice. Those words. Miranda’s eyes snapped open. But if she was hoping to see a welcome sight, she was to be disappointed. The pirate captain scowled at her as ominously as the Indian had. Still, she sagged against her captor in relief.
The Indian spoke again in his guttural language, and to Miranda’s amazement, Captain Blackstone answered him in kind. When the Indian loosened the hand over her mouth, Miranda’s jaw dropped open. They acted as if they knew each other.
The Indian spoke again, and the captain crossed his arms and nodded, albeit reluctantly. He said something that made the Indian laugh and release Miranda. Her feet hit the sandy soil, and her knees buckled. And the captain did nothing. Miranda was forced to grab hold of the Indian’s arm for support.
Both the pirate and the Indian seemed to find this amusing. Miranda locked her knees and jerked away, but she stopped short of rushing to the captain’s side. Besides, he was now in what appeared to be a serious discussion with the Indian. And it was extremely frustrating not to understand what they were saying.
Miranda tried to pick out a word here or there but couldn’t. She thought the captain might turn to her and explain whatever negotiations were going on, but he ignored her completely, as did the Indian. She finally decided they weren’t discussing her.
Were they getting ready for some horrible form of combat between them? Miranda watched the pirate’s face. Though he was definitely in a rage, and growing angrier with every second, his hostility didn’t appear to be directed toward the Indian.
Now that she thought of it, neither man had drawn a weapon. Of course, it didn’t appear the pirate had one. He wore only wet breeches that clung to his lower body like a second skin. The Indian wore even less, but she did notice a knife handle sticking from a leather case lashed to his waist.
Miranda inched away from the Indian, thinking she was moving unnoticed until the pirate speared her with his stormy green gaze. She stilled. Apparently Captain Blackstone was more aware of her than she thought. That knowledge was strangely reassuring... even if he was angry with her
Their discourse continued, punctuated by hand movements, until suddenly the Indian turned and began loping down the footpath away from the creek. Miranda watched wide-eyed as he disappeared around a bend into the forest. Then she twisted her head to look at Captain Blackstone. He, too, was gazing after the Indian, an inscrutable expression on his handsome face.
Seeing her chance, Miranda sank down to her knees and began recollecting the specimens she’d lost when the Indian grabbed her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The question was so abrupt and loud that Miranda dropped the flora again, only barely suppressing a scream. She looked up to find the captain looming over her, his hands clasped at his lean waist.
“Well?” He glared down at her, obviously expecting an answer.
“I... I was... well, you see I’d collected some leaves and flowers and I dropped them, so—”
“Leaves and flowers. Is that what you were doing out here? Picking leaves and flowers?”
His voice rose with every word. Miranda simply swallowed and nodded.
“God’s blood!” He threw his hands into the air as if beseeching a higher power to explain such behavior to him. “You take a chance on being taken by Indians, not to mention scare me near to death, all for a few leaves and flowers.” Jack dropped his arms and paced a few feet down the footpath. Pivoting, he pointed his finger at her. “You are insane.”
Miranda stood, carelessly brushing aside the few leaves that had managed to stay in her skirt. “I am not!”
Jack stepped closer. “You are.”
Marching up to stand in front of him, close enough so that she could smell the salt water that glistened on his body, she crossed her arms. “I am not.” For someone whose only knowledge of arguments—before she met the pirate—consisted of discussing the merits of scientific theory, Miranda was definitely getting into the spirit.
Jack lowered his head till their noses almost touched. “You are. You’re crazier than a bat, to wander off alone when there are Indians around.”
Miranda raised her chin. “There is no scientific evidence that a bat is crazy.”
Jack only snorted. Leave it to this crazy woman to say something like that.
“And,” Miranda continued. “No one told me there were Indians in the area.”
Taking a deep breath, Jack glared down at her for a moment. What she said was true, still...”You didn’t have to know if you’d just stayed where I put you.”
“Ha!” Jack’s laugh was loud and short. “Are you trying to tell me you were sitting on the beach minding your own business and Nafkebee captured you? And before you answer, let me tell you he said he found you on the trail.”
“What I started to say was that I stayed on the beach for a while. Then I decided to take a short walk.”
“Short? We must be a mile from the creek.” Miranda ignored this outburst. “The Indian... what did you say his name was?”
“Nafkebee.”
“Nafkebee,” she repeated. “Anyway, Nafkebee didn’t find me because I wasn’t lost. I was simply minding my own business and he grabbed me.”
“Nafkebee was right.” Jack shook his head. “He said you need someone to watch out for you.” Actually he’d chided Jack for not watching out for his woman. When Jack had vehemently replied that she was not his woman, the Indian had merely shrugged in that way he had when he didn’t trust what Jack was saying.
“I do not need someone watching out for me.” Miranda turned on her heel and started back down the path.
“Oh, no?” Jack fell in beside her.
“No!”
“What about what just happened?”
“What did happen?” Miranda stopped and looked up at Jack beneath her lashes. “How come he let me go when he saw you?”
“Nafkebee’s a friend of mine. But you could’ve just as easily been kidnapped by a savage Indian.’
“You mean like I was kidnapped by you?” Jack had the good grace to look chagrined, but only for a moment. Then his expression hardened, and he cupped her shoulders, turning Miranda toward him. “It’s not the same thing at all.”
“It isn’t? And just why not? It appears the same to me. A pirate steals into my bedroom in the middle of the night and spirits me away to—”
“I’m not going to hurt you, for God’s sake.”
“So you say.” Miranda tossed her head, sending the raven curls that tangled around her shoulders flying. “You tell me all sorts of things, yet I see no evidence of them.”
“Like what?” Except for his little indiscretion in his cabin, Jack felt he’d held to his part of the plan pretty well... at least as well as Miranda would let him.
“Like the messenger who’s to bring my ransom money. I think you made that up.” Miranda tilted her chin. “I think you have no plans to return me to Charles Town.”
“Oh, are you wrong there. We’re leaving tomorrow morning for Charles Town.” God’s blood, the chit didn’t honestly think he wanted to keep her.
“Tomorrow? We are?”
“Aye.”
“But your ship? You couldn’t have finished careening the entire hull.”
“I haven’t.” Jack let go of her and started walking. Why was it that every time he got close to her he felt like pulling her into his arms and kissing her? Especially now. He had more important things to think about like...
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
She stopped again and Jack faced her. “Why are we going back so soon? Did the messenger come with the money?”
Damn, the woman was full of questions. Jack sighed deeply. “No, the ransom didn’t arrive.” He held up his hand. “But there’s been a change of plans. I’m taking you back now and that’s all there is to it.” After what Nafkebee just told him, he wasn’t going to sit around here for another week. Henry would simply have to see that his daughter stayed away from the king’s revenuer. Jack resisted the urge to rub his neck.
“Is it because I wandered off, because if it is —”
“It has nothing to do with that.” Jack raked his fingers back through his hair. “Listen, I thought getting back to Charles Town was what you wanted.”
“It was... I mean it is. It’s just that—”
“Then, no arguments.”
Miranda lowered her eyes at his loud demand. “I just don’t understand.”
“God’s blood, woman, it isn’t necessary for you to understand everything.” Her face lost its color, and she stared up at him with large, deep blue eyes. Jack groaned. As angry as he’d been with her before when he didn’t know where she was, he didn’t want to upset her.
“Hell.” Jack groaned again and turned away only to twist back. “Part of the reason I think it’s better to take you back now is this.” He waved his hand between them.
“What?” Miranda was perplexed. He wasn’t acting like the arrogant pirate now
“This,” Jack stated louder. “This thing between us. This... attraction.” He rubbed his hands down over his face. “God, don’t tell me I’m the only one that feels it.”
Miranda bit her thumbnail, then shook her head. “No. You’re not the only one.”
Jack laughed self-consciously. “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse.”
Lowering her eyes, Miranda looked away. “I don’t understand it.”
Jack laughed again. Leave it to Miranda Chadwick to need an explanation. “It’s not that complex. I’m a man and you’re a woman.”
“Oh.” Miranda’s brows furrowed as she thought about his words. “That’s all there is to it?”
Jack shrugged. “More or less.” He searched for words to explain it. “It’s lust I suppose.”
“You mean the desire to fornicate?”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Aye. You could call it that.” Would she never cease to amaze him?
“I understand about the human need to reproduce. It really doesn’t differ that much from animals such as —”
“God’s blood, what are you talking about, woman? I’ve no desire to reproduce. I simply meant—”
“Do you feel this way about all women?”
“What way?” She was the most exasperating person.
“Do you have this desire to for—”
“No, don’t repeat yourself.” He rubbed at his chin. “No... I mean yes. Not all,” he finally admitted. “But a goodly number.”
“I see.”
“Well, I am a pirate.”
“Yes, of course.”
God, was he making excuses for himself for enjoying other women? She didn’t appear pleased by the idea, but what did she expect? But in truth, Jack admitted to himself, he never had felt exactly this way. Was it because Miranda was beyond his reach? There could be no other explanation. The women who usually attracted him were of a different ilk than Miranda Chadwick. They understood the allure of a small flirtation. They not only wanted him as frantically as he wanted them; they were willing and able to do something about it.
“I do understand,” she said more for her own benefit than his. Miranda couldn’t help it. It was illogical and totally irrational, but she didn’t like the idea of his desiring other women. She’d certainly never felt anything like this for any other man. But perhaps it was because the only men she was ever around were older, and it was their minds she admired, not the way moisture glistened on the bronze of their skin. Or the way the gold ring in his ear tangled with his equally golden hair. Miranda swallowed and tried to glance down, but his finger caught under her chin. Again her eyes met his.
“You understand what?”
His touch made her so warm she almost lost her train of thought. “About reproduction and forni—”
“How do you know about that?” Until they started this foolish discussion, Jack would have bet his share of the Sea Hawk’s booty that she was completely naive and innocent. But now...
Her eyes widened. “Why, I’ve read about it, of course. And then there was van Leeuwenhoek’s discovery.”
Jack groaned. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
“As you wish, but it’s very interesting.”
“I’m sure ‘tis.” Jack had never had a stranger conversation with anyone. He could hardly credit that they were standing in the middle of a footpath talking about making love in t
he most unromantic way he could imagine... and it was making him desire her all the more. “We need to get back to the ship.”
“I suppose so.”
“Aye, that’s what we should do.” He was saying the words, but Lord help him, his feet hadn’t moved one inch along the sandy trail. “Now that we both understand this thing between us, we can manage it with no trouble.”
Miranda didn’t think she understood anything. The way she felt had naught in common with the descriptions of reproduction she’d read. The pirate’s finger slid off her chin to caress a trail down her neck, and Miranda’s breath caught.
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.” Jack didn’t mean to say the words; they were simply out of his mouth before he could stop them. But she was studying him with languid blue eyes that made him want to forget everything but taking her in his arms.
“I was just wondering...”
“Wondering what?”
She swayed toward him, and Jack caught her shoulders in his hands.
“Well, since we can handle this so well, perhaps we could... I mean, do you suppose you could kiss me like you did before? Simply as an experiment,” Miranda added because she feared she was acting very bold.
“One kiss shouldn’t hurt.” Jack bent toward her.
“No,” Miranda said in all seriousness. “I don’t think it will.”
The touch of their lips was explosive. One moment, Miranda’s mind was attuned to documenting the experience; the next she couldn’t think at all. It was as, if her whole being was engulfed in a tidal wave of sensation.
The world smelled of him, musky and male. His taste overwhelmed her, drove her to want more. And the feel of him, hard and hot against her body as he crushed her in his arms, made her burrow deeper into his embrace.
Her fingers dug into the coiled muscles of his shoulders, then up to tangle in his golden hair. And all the while the kiss deepened, drowning her in its drugging power. His tongue thrust, first possessively deep, then shallow and taunting. But always in rhythm with the blood pulsating through her veins.