“Scoundrel. You despicable scoundrel,” she snarled.
“Now, Miss Whitney, let’s not resort to name calling. You had no intentions of handing The Serpent over to me without a fight. I merely saved you from hurting yourself further.”
She had failed. The one thing that kept her alive, she let get snatched away. Trumped by the charm of a man. Well, no more. She’d been down this path before and didn’t care to revisit it. If she hadn’t already been half-blind, her fury would have made her so.
“Heed this, Captain Fox. I shall not give you what is mine.” She poked her finger into his chest. “I will not give you or your filthy crew the satisfaction.” She yanked the mirror off the dresser and smashed it, breaking the glass into pieces.
“Damn, woman! That mirror was a gift.” A gift for someone who was once special.
He studied her, raking his hand through his hair. Lianna was something like he had never seen before. He couldn’t get over how this woman managed to keep up a brave, dignified front. Devil a doubt, she was terrified for her life. Normally, he would use that terror against his captive. A sadistic pleasure, he granted, that he got from wielding that kind of power over another. He earned that power, by God. ’Twas his right to cause fear in others. However, Lianna suppressed any fear she had of him and faced him in defiance. That gained him a curiosity about her that he felt compelled to further investigate.
Lianna swung around facing him with a deadly sharp shard, the lantern light glinting off it.
Zane, hands raised, braced himself should she charge him. “Put down the glass,” he said calmly. She slowly smiled. So alluring was she that he might’ve mistaken the expression as a tantalizing challenge. ’Twas no wonder he was completely shocked when she quickly raised the broken mirror to her own neck.
Like lightning, he reached for her wrist before she could cut herself.
“You’re crazy!” He twisted her wrist. She yelped and dropped the glass. “Bloody, crazy!”
Lianna sank down into her chair. The lass fought back the tears pooled in her eyes. She has done nothing for herself but cause more problems. She even bungled a suicide in an attempt to escape his wrath.
Blister me.
Zane, beside himself, paced in front of her, not knowing what to do next. He had no intention of killing this girl. Toy with her, yes. But kill her, no. Hell, he’d never kill a woman. And he definitely would not turn her over to the men. He wasn’t that cruel. He grossly misjudged her for beguiling. She had been resplendently comical as she expected his kiss and he wondered what it would be like to taste those succulent lips. But now the fire in her hazel eyes burned out. This lass would rather take her own life than let her body be despoiled.
“What would you have of me now?” Her voice murmured slow and steady, but not resigned.
To his surprise, and hers, he reached for her hand and placed the medallion in her open palm. She looked up, confused.
“My lady, I shall expect you to return this to me upon our arrival at Tortuga. In turn, I will guarantee your safety. Is this agreeable to you?”
Lianna blinked at her fortune. “Yes, Captain Fox. We have a deal.”
“Good.” Zane steadied his gaze. “Let us try this again. I will expect you at my dinner table tonight in a more agreeable fashion.”
Unable to string together another coherent thought, he walked out of her cabin.
CHAPTER 3
Lianna sat at the writing desk staring at the medallion. She had spent the better part of her day contemplating the last twenty-four hours and the man who held her captive. Who had ever heard of a gentleman pirate, one who treated his prisoners with respect? Surely it was uncharacteristic for a pirate to allow his prisoner to keep the very treasure he risked life and limb to obtain.
But Captain Fox had allowed her to keep the medallion as a pledge to her safety. He must know that as long as she had The Serpent, she would have some measure, albeit very slim, of control over her situation. Unless, this was a gesture of his concern and trust in her. Hmm. What a very odd man. The very thought of him gave her gooseflesh, imagining his strong arms, his beautiful eyes. ’Twas enough to make her melt. This foreign feeling addled her. She had never met a man who made her feel even a wee bit esteemed. True enough, she had a brief indulgence with a young man once, mere calf love. But by comparison, she had been cast among the scurvy rabble that had little care of a woman other than to serve and be served.
And the captain’s ship. It fared in better shape than most she’d seen in Nassau. She could grasp the richness of the two adjoining chambers. These treasures were simply the spoils of plundering. Still, the whole of it, her cabin, the ship, the captain’s unorthodox behavior, seemed strange. The more she thought of this, the more baffled she became.
She grew weary of sitting in her cell with only her thoughts to keep her company. And those would invariably lead to thinking of him…improperly. Ugh. She rebuked herself again and again.
Remember, Lianna. He is a man. Not worth the muck on the bottom of your shoe. No matter how savory he looks. But it was no good. She couldn’t stop thinking of him. There he was, prancing around in her mind, taunting her, like a peacock full of spirits.
Giving in to other curiosities, she poked through the chest of drawers. She removed a pair of canvas trousers, a linen shirt, a sash, and a skull cap. Men’s clothes. Another drawer contained undergarments, woolen stockings, and a pair of shoes with silver buckles. “So the woman wore the clothes of a seaman,” she mused.
Lianna opened the last drawer and gasped. A green florid gown trimmed in gold brocade lay folded askew. She lifted the slightly rumpled dress and held it up, holding it against her body. It was so beautiful. Lianna couldn’t help but twirl around as if she were waltzing across a grand marble ballroom floor. The heavy fabric rustled softly as she hummed and swayed in time to the imaginary music. As a young girl, she had dreamed that one day she would be invited to a social dance and wear such a gown like this. But her world came crashing down upon her and that dream was forever lost. She had not thought of such frivolities in many years. Hers was a life of servitude, not fortune. Early on, she realized her fate and accepted it.
She was about to return the dress, but a newspaper article in the bottom of the drawer caught her eye. Unfolding it, she read the headline. Twenty-three Pirates Executed. It was an account of the hanging of Captain Luke, an Italian pirate, in Kingston, Jamaica in May of 1722, along with his crew. The paper left little to the imagination as to the proceedings of that day, revealing several of the condemned did not die mercifully but rather slowly and painfully by strangulation. A circle marked one name, Joseph Greene, on the list of unfortunate men. The article must have been significant as many a pirate had met their end at the hands of an executioner. Who was Joseph Greene?
The lock on her door disengaged. She quickly returned the items to the drawer. Henri eyed her with suspicion while she spun around knocking the dresser shut. He held out a dress at arm’s length, not moving from his spot.
Lianna came forward to take the dress. “Thank you, sir.” She bowed.
“Humph.” He grunted. “Half an hour.” Shaking his head, he left.
The little man’s disapproval didn’t worry her in the least. She had already made up her mind to work on him, worm into his good graces. She needed allies within the people closest to Captain Fox. He guaranteed her safety, but she would require more than that. He was a dangerous man. One she still didn’t trust. If she could gain access in his circle, maybe she could better safeguard her life. After all, she still had the medallion.
*****
Zane scrubbed the salty grime from his face. The cold water rinsed the tightness of his skin away. Just what he needed—a shot of cold to revitalize him from a long day in the sun and wind.
“You’re smitten with her.” Blade, his feet propped on the table, cut a final slice from an apple core with his dagger.
Zane looked up. “What brought you to that conclusion?” He
toweled off and took a pull from a bottle of rum he uncorked the minute he had walked into his cabin.
“You’ve been distracted.” Blade popped the fruit into his mouth. “You spent hours today with the spyglass.”
“Watching for Bennington.” He took a seat. “I don’t believe that constitutes distraction.”
Blade motioned for the bottle. “I know as well as you the good Commodore Bennington will not catch up to us until we drop anchor.”
“Aye. We’ll need to get the information we gathered on the Spanish fleet to our contact, unload the girl, and make way for Port Royal before Bennington gains an advantage. He will want to wage battle straight away. I trust that medallion means more to him than it does to me.”
“Indeed. You have made him out to be a fool. His post is at risk and Governor Wilcox is growing impatient.”
“What a shame then, to waste his profession on the likes of me.”
The two men laughed as they passed the rum between themselves.
“The medallion. Let’s have a look at it. I want to see what this illustrious necklace is about.”
Zane looked down. “I don’t have it at my disposal at this moment.”
“What?”
“I mean to say,” he paused, “it’s in a safe place.”
Blade nearly choked on a swig as he guffawed heartily. “The bonny still has it!” He slapped his hand on the table. “Are you losing your touch, mate? Tell me it isn’t so.”
“No.” Zane Fox lose his touch? Never. “I am but allowing her to keep the pendant so she may have a sense of safety.”
“You mean she persuaded you into keeping it so she may have more control over her fate.”
“So she may speculate. See here. It isn’t as if she can escape.”
“This is rich!” Blade teased. “The fierce and mighty Captain Fox is once again bested by the will of a woman.”
Zane smirked. “Careful, brother. You are in no position to mock me where a fair piece is concerned.”
Blade swiped at the dribble on his chin with his sleeve, uneasiness flushing his expression.
“Let’s not forget the time,” Zane continued, “Fiona Flannigan had you completely bare ass professing your undying love to her in the middle of a Dublin street.”
“We were but children,” he grinned. An obvious light danced in Blade’s far-off gaze with fond memories of the little red-haired maiden. “She dared me.”
“And how about Annie Evans from North Carolina? Didn’t you let her practice coiffing hair on you, complete with ribbons and flowers?”
“Uh, yes. But in my defense, no man could say no to that sweet girl.”
“Josette Carlier.” Even as Zane said her name, Blade wriggled in his seat. “You couldn’t say no to her, either, when she enticed you into her bed.”
“I nearly lost my head on her account. ’Tis a good thing her husband had terrible aim.”
“And Marie.”
“All right. I get the idea.” Blade laughed. “Don’t act as if you are lacking notches of indiscretion in your endeavoring bedposts, mate. In any case, just say the word, should you encounter any difficulties with the lass. I can entertain her while you recover the medallion.”
Henri entered the cabin with Jason following close behind, carrying the supper trays. He set down in the middle of the table a large, crispy chicken flanked with pineapple chunks and boiled potatoes.
Blade carved off a leg of chicken. “Should I summon the lady?” He flaunted a smirk devilishly.
“Always there to answer the call of duty,” Zane teased.
“If I mistake not, what are friends for?”
“It won’t be necessary, Blade. Jason, please show Miss Whitney in.”
It took Zane great effort to stand expressionless as Lianna walked into the room. She looked quite lovely in the baby blue tulle dress he picked out for her. The color suited her complexion while the light airy fabric accentuated her feminine features. Her hair was pulled away from her face, but hung loosely down around her neck. She could do so much with so little in such a simple garment. She was so…sensual.
She curtsied low as if she mocked his position as captain, or perhaps king, of his ship.
Blade bowed. “Miss Whitney. Permit me to say you look ravishing.”
“In this ole thing?” She smiled coyly at him then slid her gaze to Zane.
“To be sure.” Blade’s stare clamped upon Lianna as if she were prey.
“I agree, Miss Whitney. You are a tantalizing vision,” Zane said.
“Thank you.” She paused, mulling some thought over, and then added, “Gentlemen.”
Respectful address. A decidedly good move for the chit in light of her predicament.
Taking his leave, Blade paused at her side, leaning into her. He took a ringlet of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “Beware, my lady. The Captain, he’s a fiend. But I, I am a lover.”
Zane recognized the look on her face. Most chits found his best mate irresistible. And the rake well deserved his reputation. She leaned into Blade, as if inhaling the smooth rum and roasted meat on his breath. Salacious thoughts bounced around in that head of hers, he’d bet on it. She needed a drink. Or a cool dip in an icy tub of water. Both of which he could provide.
Zane rolled his eyes and shook his head. The two men had been friends since childhood. And they had always had sporting, good-natured contests in the likes of the fairer sex. Part of the fun was watching Blade whittle away with his lubricious charm. Always entertaining.
“If Captain Fox undertakes to cross your threshold,” Blade said, “just call my name and I will vanquish him at your command.”
“I should be naive to call upon one libertine to deliver me from another, wouldn’t you say?”
Blade laughed. “Fair enough.”
She inclined her head to him as she passed a mirthful glance to his captain. Ah, the little minx.
“Henri.” Lianna chirped as she wisely distanced herself from Blade, walking past Zane. “What a splendid feast you have prepared. It smells wonderful.” She waited for Zane to pull out her chair. “I cannot wait to taste it.”
The stout man grinned. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Her smile twitched. Something had dawned on her and Zane knew she had just struck upon an idea. She waited for him to sit and nod his head before she took a bite.
“Delicious, Henri. This chicken is so juicy and flavorful.”
Beaming so, Zane thought the little man’s chest would burst from pride.
Henri hooked his thumbs in his shirt collar. “The secret is in the temperature of the fire.”
“Mmm. I cannot get over how delectable it is. You must teach me how to make this.”
Zane leaned on his elbow, watching the spectacle. She was audacious, but effective. Henri devoured the praise she poured on thick. The lass laid groundwork for allies. She was a smart dove to not trust him. But it was going to take a lot more than flattery to curry crusty old Henri’s favor.
“I have this special rub I use. And sometimes I soak the meat in coconut milk,” Henri boasted.
“Coconut milk? Fascinating.”
“All right, Henri.” Zane had heard enough. A few toadying compliments on his cooking and he’s ready to switch sides. “Please see your way out. Jason, fill our glasses then join Henri.”
Zane and Lianna ate their meal in silence. She had taken notice of the captain’s cabin for the first time. The room was spacious, the width of the ship. Although not abundantly opulent like her chambers, the evidences of treasure from mysterious far away places were tastefully displayed. Besides the table, he had an intricately hewn black desk upon which lay a writing pad, quill, inkwell, and a bronzed scale. Shelves secured to the wall served the dual purpose of battening and displaying books, charts, navigational tools, and drinking cups. A gilded mirror hung nailed over a rum cask and a white porcelain bowl filled with soapy water sat on top of the barrel. On a nearby hook rested a black tricorn with a large dove
-colored plume. He must put on a fine display in the extravagant hat.
There were four beautifully painted trunks about the room as well, one of which was pushed against the door to her cabin, meaning he didn’t use that door often. She guessed one of the lockers held his clothes and personal belongings. But the other three she couldn’t be sure. Treasure, artillery, the bones of his victims?
His bed sat against the gallery windows, flanked with drawn heavy, black hempen curtains. The lack of luxury was made up for here as the view stole her breath. She thought of how peaceful it must be to stare out at the sea on a moonlit night, just like tonight, before drifting to sleep. In the arms of a pirate. Or two. Lianna!
“Erotic.”
“Pardon?” Was he reading her mind? Again?
“The view. It’s titillating, spellbinding. I can’t think of a better place to lay my head at night. Well, ha, that’s a bald-faced lie.” He stared at her over the rim of the cup as he took a long sip, licking the brim when he was done.
Lianna squirmed in her chair. Confound it, was her cup empty already? “Tell me, why do you insist on dining as if sitting among a royal assemblage?” She hoped to change the subject.
“I always treat my guests as such. ’Tis not often that I can be a host to a lovely lady.”
“Ah, but am I not more a prisoner than an esteemed guest?”
“’Twould seem so, but I should think you well kept.”
“Hmm. I have never heard of a pirate with social propriety.”
“And I have not met a stew wench who pretends to be high bred. How is that?”
Lianna grew dispirited with the sudden thought of her youth. “It really isn’t any of your concern.”
“No, perhaps not. But I would like to know just the same.”
He offered a gentle smile. Typically people didn’t pry any further. His interest appeared to be sincere. She couldn’t comprehend why a pirate would be the least bit interested in her upbringing. Perhaps that is why she found herself willing to talk.
“My mother was a loyal housemaid to a wealthy landowner, Olivia Duchant. I’m not sure as to my father. I was told he was the valet of a visiting royal administrative official, or possibly the politician himself. My mother would never say.”
Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure Page 4