by Sea Fires
Jack blinked into the light, and his resolve faltered. “God’s blood,” he mumbled as he rushed forward. Jack caught his wife as she fell, thrust forward by the guards into the cell. His arms cradled her an instant before instinct made him turn to rush the men who had shoved her. But they quickly slammed the door, and as he pounded in frustration, Jack could hear their muffled laughter through the wooden planks.
“I don’t believe that will help anything.”
“No?” Jack whirled around, his face a mask of anger. “As I see it, things couldn’t get much worse.” His breath left him on a forced gust, and Jack’s expression softened. “For God’s sake, Miranda. What are you doing here?”
“I’m not exactly certain. I was walking through the market, looking for you, when two soldiers came upon me.” With each word Miranda was forced to tilt her head more as the pirate moved closer. By the time she finished speaking, she could no longer see his face, for he had her wrapped securely in his arms, her cheek pressed against his broad chest. She shut her eyes and took comfort in the strong, steady beat of his heart.
“Oh, Miranda, Miranda,” Jack whispered into her hair. The lace fontange was askew, tilted to the left, and curls tumbled down her slim back. “Why did you leave the ship?”
Miranda flattened her hands against his silk waistcoat and pushed away, her eyes accusing. “You lied to me.”
“What?” He was shocked by the change in her from sweet and, cuddly to accusing.
“You lied. You said I could come with you; then you stole off the Sea Hawk in the dead of night.”
Jack gave a quick, sharp laugh, then paced across the cell, turning to pin her with his stormy gaze. “You’re damn right I lied. And let me tell you this.” His finger jabbed at the air separating them. “I’d do it again. Though it does me precious little good.” His hands spread beseechingly. “ ‘Tisn’t it obvious why I didn’t wish you to come?”
Miranda let her gaze wander about the cell, taking in the damp stone walls and filthy, straw-littered floor. He had a point. Sighing, Miranda folded her hands. “Perhaps I could have helped you.”
“I doubt it.” Giving in to his desires, Jack moved back beside Miranda and draped his arm around her shoulders, pleased when she turned into his strength. “The Spanish surrounded me almost as soon as I stepped foot ashore. It was as if they knew I was coming.”
“But how could they? I mean, the Sea Hawk was hidden, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, I’d swear they didn’t catch sight of the ship.” As to another reason for them to know about him, Jack had used his time in captivity trying to come up with one. But the only explanation that made any sense, he didn’t want to believe.
“What of your crew? Are they somewhere in the castillo?”
Jack shook his head. “They’re safe as far as I know. We’d split up before I was captured. I’m hoping they managed to make it back to the Sea Hawk.”
“But surely they’ll come for you. I mean, you’re their captain.”
Jack shut his eyes, then pulled her closer, reluctant to share reality with her. “Nay, sweetheart. They won’t be back.”
“But—”
Jack touched the soft swell of her bottom lip. “ ‘Tis an unwritten rule we follow. No sacrificing the entire crew for the sake of one man.” He let the tip of his finger drift across her cheek. “I’m sorry, Miranda. So sorry you’re involved in this.” Jack sucked in his breath. “God, how could I have let this happen?”
“Don’t.” Miranda wrapped her arms around his waist. “There must be some way out of this. If we could only think...”
“Ah, sweet Miranda.” Jack kissed her forehead, and eyes, the tip of her nose. He hesitated to tell her that he’d already thought and thought. And could think of nothing. He bent to gather her closer, but something she said made him straighten.
“You found my sister?”
“Yes. Do you think she might be able to get us out of here? Of course, the problem is, she doesn’t know we’re here. Still—”
“Tell me.” Jack cupped his wife’s shoulders. “Tell me of her.”
Miranda looked up into Jack’s expectant face and smiled. “She’s well and happy. Married and with child.”
“What?” Jack dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. “What are you saying?”
“Jack.” Miranda touched his arm, wishing he’d look back at her. “Listen to me.”
“Nay. ‘Tis not true. It must have been someone else you spoke to. Elspeth would not be—”
“Be what? Be happy?” Miranda watched as he shook his head.
“Not with the Spanish. No, by God, she would not!”
“Think, Jack. It was twelve years ago. Twelve years.”
“I care not how many years. How many decades.”
“But she was just a babe. Time has softened the pain. Mayhap you should let it soften yours.”
Jack turned on her abruptly. “Soften? How am I to soften my hate while imprisoned in a Spanish fort? Tell me that, Miranda.”
“I know not,” she whispered.
He looked at her, and his anger dissipated. “I’m sorry. ‘Tis not your fault. I just loathe that I’ve brought you to this. I’ve felt the Spanish yoke before!” Jack ran his hand over the rough wall. “I helped dig the moat that surrounds us.”
Memories came flooding back to him, nearly suffocating in their intensity, but Jack fought them. Reaching out, he pulled Miranda into his arms. There was no reason for her to hear the worst of it now. “We’ll get out of this, wife,” he said, grinning when she glanced up at him.
It didn’t surprise Jack at all when she inquired as to how he thought they’d do that. After all, he was dealing with Miranda, and she questioned everything.
However, she didn’t question when he brushed his lips across hers, or when he deepened the kiss.
Yet they both knew he hadn’t answered her.
Chapter Nineteen
“Comfortable?”
Miranda snuggled deeper into the cradle of her husband’s body and sighed her affirmation. Feeling guilty, she levered up, trying to make out his features in the failing light. “Are you?”
“Aye,” Jack assured her then cupped her head back against his chest.
They were huddled in a corner of the cell. As the evening shadows had marked the end of their first day as prisoners in the castillo, Jack had prepared them a place to sleep. They’d already scoured every inch of the small enclosure in a futile search for a way out, so Jack knew where to find the cleanest straw.
Using his boot, he’d cleared out a corner, spread straw to cushion them, settled down, and reached up for Miranda. She now sat on his lap, with Jack’s arms wrapped around her.
He didn’t think de Segovia would do anything tonight. The Spaniard probably wanted to give Jack time to stew and worry about the morrow.
And damn his murdering hide, that’s exactly what Jack was doing. His neck was itching something fierce, and worse, he imagined Miranda with the same malady.
His fingers brushed down over the soft skin at her throat, and his chest tightened at the thought of a rope marring that soft perfection.
“Miranda,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Tomorrow... or whenever they come for us.” He was sure, knowing de Segovia, that there would be a face-to-face confrontation. “I intend for us to escape.”
“But—”
“It won’t be easy,” Jack continued, ignoring the question in her voice. “And you will have to do exactly as I say.” He paused, waiting for her agreement. When he didn’t get it, his voice prompted. “Miranda?”
“Yes, Jack, I’ll do as you say.”
“Good.” His hand drifted down her arm. “I’ll try to create some havoc.”
“What kind of havoc?”
“I don’t know... something. I’ll leap on a guard, or lunge at de Segovia. Anything that will take their minds off you.” Jack shifted, taking her face in his hands and trying to see her in the darkness. “Then I want you
to run like hell. Do you think you can find your way out of here?”
“Yes, but what about you?”
“I’ll follow. Or get away some other time.”
“But Jack—”
“Nay, Miranda. You cannot question this. You are to do it. Do you understand me?”
Miranda swallowed. She could not see the pirate’s face, but she could feel his intensity, in the strength of his hands, in the power of his voice. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Jack let go of her face and rested her back against his heart. When you get out of the castillo, hide, then somehow get across the bay to Anastasia Island... to the ship. You’ll find Scar and the others there.” He hoped. “They’ll take care of you.” Jack paused. “They’ll see you safely back to Charles Town.”
Miranda said nothing. Jack continued talking, telling her some wild story about how he would get away later and meet her in Charles Town, and she didn’t believe a word of it. More, she knew he didn’t believe it either. He was planning a way for her to escape, but he knew his own was hopeless.
She swallowed when his arms tightened about her. “Promise me you will do this, Miranda. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Her voice was soft and low, and her breath wafted across his neck. “Jack?”
He expected an argument and prepared himself to bully her into compliance. He found that he could accept the inevitability of his own fate, but not hers. But her next words surprised him.
“I’m so glad I married you.” Miranda heard his sharp intake of breath and continued. “I know I’ve been a trial to you and—”
“You haven’t.” Jack shrugged, and honesty forced him to add, “Not really.”
“Oh, but I have. Though ‘twas never my intent. But I am glad we married and even that you kidnapped me.”
“Strange as it may seem,” Jack admitted, “I am, too.” He settled back against the hard stones and tried to be quiet. There was no real need to say more. But God’s blood, he might never get another chance to tell her. He opened his mouth and realized he was scared. He was a bloody pirate, and he was afraid to say three words to a wisp of a woman... and that woman was his wife!
“Miranda?”
“Yes?”
Jack took a deep breath and plunged forward. “I love you.”
There was no response, and Jack wriggled on the damp floor. God, why didn’t she say something? Did she think it foolish that a pirate, a lawless freebooter, could experience such an emotion as love? True, it had shocked him when he’d realized what he felt for her went far beyond lust, far beyond fondness. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” Miranda whispered. She’d taken a moment to savor his revelation. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” Jack felt absurdly happy, especially considering the circumstances. He’d barely allowed himself to think upon his love for her, let alone hope that she felt the same. He pulled Miranda up higher against his chest, facing him, and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Then, ‘tis good we’re wed,” he said, before his lips met hers.
When he finally raised his head, Jack’s breathing was shallow, and his hands were working their way beneath Miranda’s skirts. He cupped the delicious curve of her bottom, basking in her shiver of delight.
“ ‘Twould appear you’ve married yourself a lusty pirate,” Jack said on a breath of air. His fingers splayed, delving into her moist folds, and she wriggled closer, rubbing her body against his swollen staff.
“ ‘Twould appear I have,” she agreed. “But, Jack—” Miranda pushed away when it became obvious her husband wasn’t going to stop with this glorious stroking of her body— “how can we?”
“Shhh. You ask too many questions.”
“But I don’t know... Oh... Jack.”
“Move a little to the side. Ah, there!” Jack managed to work his breeches down over his hips, freeing himself in the process. He lifted her skirts, skimming his knuckles along the smooth skin of her thighs.
She could barely see him, the cell was so dark. Miranda closed her eyes and gave her remaining senses free reign. Her head dropped back, raven curls brushing the naked backs of her legs as he lifted her up against him. She breathed in his musky, masculine smell, knowing there would never be another fragrance that excited her so.
Miranda let her fingers trace down his ruffled shirt to where fabric stopped and hot, hair-roughened skin began. He sucked in air, mumbling a shattered curse when she touched him. Satin-smooth and hard, he thrust against her as if begging for more than her shy exploration. The darkness, the threat of the morrow, made her bold, and Miranda wrapped her hand around his thickened staff. Her fingertips barely touched, but she fondled and caressed till his hand clamped onto her wrist, stopping her sliding motion.
“God, Miranda... you’ll unman me.”
“ ‘Tis impossible to even imagine.” She said the words against his lips, between erotic little forays of her tongue into his mouth. Parry and thrust. Each silken entry delved deeper, till Jack arched forward, capturing the kiss.
His large hands bracketed her hips, sinking into her curves, lifting her. On her knees Miranda was poised above him. The smooth, rounded tip teased her dewy flesh as they both waited, anticipating the moment of joining. Desire shot through Miranda, and she squirmed. Sinking onto him, she took him fully into her body, and the cold stone, the cell... the world, seemed to disappear.
Sensual sounds, a medley of breathless sighs and erotic moans, accompanied the sleek movements of their enmeshed bodies. Jack’s fingers found taut nipples straining against the bounds of her silk bodice. Deftly he nudged the fabric aside. Her breasts fell into his palms, and he molded them. Arching forward, he took one ardently into his mouth.
The suckling motion accentuated the rhythm of his hips, making the coil of hunger inside Miranda tighten unbearably. Her skin tingled, and a flush of desire spread through her. “Make me soar,” Miranda breathed as one hand dropped to tangle in the springy curls meshed with his. His thumb slipped lower, sliding inside and finding the core of her passion. “Make me fly up beyond the clouds.”
With his free hand Jack grasped the backside of her knee, yanking her forward, filling her deeper. His thrusts grew bolder, and Miranda was swept up on a tumultuous gust of air. She shivered uncontrollably, spiraled and sailed on the wings of pleasure. And Jack was swept along with her, bursting free of the harsh confines of earth.
It was a powerful joining of bodies and souls, sharper, yet more fragile than anything they’d yet experienced. A beginning, Miranda vowed. Somehow she would make certain this was the beginning of their life together. But her husband, her life-hardened pirate husband, knew it by another name. The end.
When she collapsed on his chest, Jack gathered his wife in his arms. He straightened their clothing and settled her next to his heart “Sleep, Miranda. We shall both need our strength tomorrow.”
But Jack didn’t heed his own advice. Long after her soft, even breathing revealed her slumber, he reclined against the stones, his mind actively conjuring up scenarios of the morrow. He wanted to anticipate every possibility, every chance to get Miranda away from here.
He must have slept, for the heavy thud of the door slamming against stone woke him. Jack scrambled to his feet, his body damp and stiff, and pulled Miranda up behind him.
She tossed raven hair behind her shoulders and peered around Jack. Light shone from the lantern one of their captors was holding in front of him. She could make out the shadows of two other men—all of them wearing swords at their sides. The leader motioned them forward, and Miranda grasped Jack’s hand.
“Remember your promise,” was all he said to her before heading for the door.
Candles stuck in iron mounted prongs lined the dreary hallway as they were led away from the cell. One man, mumbling orders in Spanish which Miranda translated, walked in front of Jack and Miranda, and the other two men followed closely behind.
Jack waited till they near
ed an open door that led out into the inner courtyard. He took a deep breath, gave Miranda’s fingers a final squeeze, and slowed his step. The man directly behind him grunted, poking him in the back. Turning, Jack cursed.
Miranda’s hand on his arm kept Jack from lunging at him. “He wants you to hurry,” she said.
Jack’s head snapped around. “I know what he wants.” God’s blood, he could understand a prod. But it looked like his wife didn’t grasp the concept of creating havoc. His eyes shot toward the open door, then back to meet hers, and he had the first inkling that she may have decided against keeping her promise to him. She gave her head a small shake.
Again he stared pointedly at the open doorway, and this time he lurched forward when the guard, obviously deciding he’d had enough of this delay, shoved him.
Miranda turned on the short Spaniard. Her expression indignant and her voice raised, she started giving him what Jack could only guess was a good lambasting. The man appeared shocked, as did the others escorting them down the hallway.
Jack seized the moment.
So quickly that she gasped, he grabbed Miranda’s shoulders, turning and thrusting her into the courtyard in one movement. He kicked out and tripped the soldier who leaped after her, and shoved him sprawling toward the other guards. As a group they were knocked off balance and fell against the far wall.
For an instant, before yanking the door shut, Jack considered rushing into the daylight and taking his chances with Miranda. But the soldiers were scrambling to their feet, reaching for their swords, and he knew he had to delay them for her to get away.
“Run,” he yelled, before slamming the door and whirling about, blocking the passage with his big body. With a slash of his arm he knocked aside one of the guards, who fell in a rumpled heap in the dirt. But another was bearing down on Jack, sword drawn, his face a distorted mask of outrage.
Jack feinted to the right, conscious of keeping himself between the soldiers and the door, avoiding the angry thrust of steel. The weapon fell from the Spaniard’s numbed fingers when the edge of Jack’s hand came down on his wrist.