Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  She glanced up, anticipating smugness in him that she was in fact a misbegotten child. He showed no such hauteur. Instead he nodded for her to continue. She didn’t think it necessary to impart a chronicle of her life to him. And yet, she opened up, opened up to a stranger without a cause for her concern. She by no means helped her position as his prisoner, but, perchance revealing herself to him would lessen any beastly intentions he might be harboring. Did people not show more compassion toward one another when they were on familiar terms? Or was that just a wishful idea?

  “When I was young, my mother insisted that I behave accordingly while I set about to do my chores. I paid very close attention to the elite men and women who frequently called on Madame Duchant. At times, with my chores completed of course, I had been allowed to sit in with the Madame’s children as they attended to their studies. Once I learned to read, I had many books at my disposal. I used my spare time reading and studying and doing my best to educate myself.” She chuckled. “The Madame’s ballroom had walls of mirrors with frames of gilded scrolls. ’Twas in front of those mirrors I practiced prescribed behavior of the genteel, how to walk, how to speak, how to hold my back straight like a proper lady.” She loved those mirrors.

  “My mother had hoped that I would catch the eye of some wealthy nobleman and live a better life than that of servility. Silly, I know. But a dream I held on to for longer than I should have.”

  Lianna twirled her fork on a small bit of meat, staring at her near empty plate.

  “How did you end up at a tavern?”

  She sighed. “One night, while we slept, a terrible storm blew in. The wind blustered so fierce, so loud. I couldn’t hear my own screams. The house shook from the wind, peeling away as if it were but made of parchment. So much chaos.”

  The shrieking gales, the cracking wood splintering beneath the invisible hands pushing at the wall pealed in her ears from the aloof memory. She willed the din away and continued.

  “As quickly as it came, the horrible wind vanished. A fire consumed what was left of the wreckage. Five people died that night, including Madame Duchant and my mother.” She paused, forcing down the lump wedged in her chest. Had she been in bed with her mother as she was supposed be, she would have died, too. Many nights when restlessness refused to let her sleep, her mind fabricated images of her mother, terrified and calling out for Lianna. Hell had descended upon them and Lianna was not there. She had sneaked to the kitchen to read. Had her ambitions caused her mother’s death?

  “I was sent by Madame Duchant’s lawyer to live with my only living relative, my uncle.” She set her fork down with a clatter. “He was none pleased with having to feed another mouth. Not being the brightest candle in the chamber sticks, he kept me locked away until he realized he could, under a heavy hand, put me to work in his tavern. That was eleven years ago.”

  “I’m sorry about your loss.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve long since mourned for myself. I suppose there are times I still maintain the ridiculous notion of someday becoming the wife of an aristocrat. At any rate, I will carry myself with the dignity my mother wished me to have.”

  “’Tis a good attitude to take. I raise my glass to you, Miss Whitney.”

  “Thank you, Captain Fox.”

  They shared a moment without the benefit of words. Only the creaking boards of the gently rocking ship could be heard. Zane appreciated the hard life Lianna had accepted. ’Twas the cruel way of the undeserving and deprived. He should know. Many could convey similar plights, hers, no more remarkable, being a mere variation to others of her class. The wretched, the slaves, the vagrants, were all devoid of civil regard, denied kindness, and dependent on charities. Most simply drifted through existence or rotted away. A few subsisted with hopeful visions of a better life after death. Lianna’s circumstance had not lessened her will to be a better person. She portrayed resiliency. Indeed she seemed to take all her hits without losing her gait, quite literally. It angered him that she had to endure unfair injustices. But then, he had always shunned maltreatments of those who could not help themselves.

  He summoned Jason to remove their dishes and bring another vessel of ale. When he dismissed the cabin boy, Lianna dared to push the relaxed conversation with him further. “Would you mind enlightening me about the medallion?”

  The woman was genuine with curiosity. Zane contemplated whether he should ease her mind with a reply. He scratched at the stubble beginning to appear on his chin. “It’s called The Serpent.” Since her life was now at risk, he decided he could share with her the reason. “’Tis believed to have magical healing properties.”

  “Oh? Magical healing properties?”

  “Long ago, in ancient Greek mythology, there was a mortal man who was the son of Apollo, god of archery and music. His name was Asclepius. Asclepius had been an extraordinary doctor. He could heal virtually anyone. So adept was he at the power of healing that he became greatly renowned.”

  This is absurd, he thought. Even more so as he recited the story once told to him. Men risked everything, even death, to get their hands on a necklace based on a folk tale. More important, they would pay a king’s ransom for it. For that reason alone, he agreed to undertake the preposterous task of chasing The Serpent down. The legend behind it made little difference to him. Bloody fools.

  “It is said,” Zane continued, “he was given a vial of Gorgon blood containing magical attributes.”

  “Gorgon? What is a Gorgon? I have a little knowledge in mythology from a booklet I once read. But I can’t place the creature.”

  “A Gorgon is a female monster with snakes upon her head, tusks, and wings and could turn a man to stone with her stare. Medusa was a Gorgon.”

  “Ah, yes. I know of Medusa.”

  A note of admiration flecked in her tone. Zane couldn’t be sure but Lianna looked as if she wistfully imagined some scary fancy.

  “When administered properly,” he went on, “Asclepius could use the blood to bring the dead back to life. Hades, the god of the Underworld, considered this to be bad for his business and so he implored Zeus to address the matter. Zeus didn’t care for Asclepius meddling in the natural order of things, and so he struck him down with a thunderbolt. Naturally, this didn’t sit well with Apollo. In turn, he killed the Cyclops who forged Zeus’ thunderbolts. Zeus banished Apollo from Mount Olympus. But at some point, he forgave Apollo and Asclepius, making Asclepius the god of medicine.”

  He paused as he studied his fair audience. The corners of her mouth curled up, amused with the story.

  “Governing with a fickle hand, as rulers are want to do.” She rested her chin in her palms. “Go on. What of The Serpent?”

  It pleased Zane to have her full attention. “Legend has it Asclepius had the medallion cast in gold with a drop of the Gorgon blood. When placed in the right hand of the deceased and the incantation read, The Serpent is said to revive the soul, erasing all injury. Sometime during the Roman Empire, the medallion was recast to include the Latin inscription.”

  “And what do the words mean?”

  “Literally, they mean at the point of death, rise again to live, to love, to be faithful.”

  Lianna nodded her head. “Hmm. Fascinating.”

  He proceeded with the tale, noticing her skeptical brow. She didn’t believe that line of bilge any more than he did.

  “Temples were erected for Asclepius where many sick and injured would seek cures. Often they slept in dormitories in the temples. Priests would then decipher their dreams, recommending treatments. One such temple was located in Olissipo, the city now known as Lisbon, Portugal. It is here that the medallion was believed to have been kept, secretly guarded. But the temple had been reduced to rubble when the city was taken by the Moors in the eighth century and eventually was lost to time. An earthquake in 1531 unearthed some remains of the edifice and many of the artifacts had been cabbaged, including the medallion.”

  Zane offered Lianna more ale. She hesitated then lifted her
glass for a refill.

  “Nearly two centuries later, the medallion somehow made its way to the Caribbean. A merchant ship’s surgeon had recognized the pendant on a chain around a gunner’s neck. He offered to buy it from the gunner, paying quite handsomely for it. This doctor entrusted what he had found through correspondence to a confidant. Unfortunately, his associate was more interested in promoting himself politically than in protecting a friend’s secret.

  “Both Governor Wilcox of New Providence and Governor Abbott of Jamaica are in want of possession of it. A piece of jewelry such as The Serpent could be invaluable and an extremely powerful prize in the right hands. Both will stop at nothing to obtain it.

  “Realizing his error all but too late, the doctor drank his fill at a tavern in San Salvador. He babbled on to a fellow drunkard, a Frenchman, and hastily rid himself of the medallion. That night he was murdered in his bed. Hearing of the doctor’s unfortunate demise, the Frenchman boarded the next ship leaving port, but not before his identity was revealed.

  “With the Royal Navy hot on his heels, the Frenchman, Basile, eloquently concealed the treasure,” Zane smirked, “among a pair of treasures.”

  He had no shame. None whatsoever. Lianna’s face flushed the most adorable shade of pink. She should be appalled by his indecency. But instead, the flicker of her lips revealed delight in his churlish flattery.

  She cleared her throat. “Your story begs another question.”

  Zane leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed at his chest. “Yes, I imagine it does.”

  “Well then, what is your role in this magnificent tale? Could it be that you plan to sell the medallion to the highest bidder? Provided, of course, you could lay claim to it.”

  She knew full well their bargain decreed it. He did enjoy her taunts. “Dear lady, not only do I lay claim to it, I can boast of conquering it.”

  “Conquering? Conquering? I should think that you cannot claim triumph until a siege has taken place. And I wager you’ll have a fierce battle ahead with no guarantee of victory.”

  “I do love a fight. ’Twouldn’t be much sport to storm a battlement lacking resistance.”

  “Well fortified, to be sure. But please, continue.”

  The lass skirted around him before she was unable to retreat. Fortunately, Zane took an immense pleasure playing cat and mouse with her. She treaded dangerously in a realm where he was master. She had no idea what she did to him by toying with him as she did, with those succulent hips and plump breasts. Indulging him by sharing her shattered youth felt as if she bestowed upon him a precious gift. With it he had another piece of her to use to his advantage. To what purpose, he didn’t know. Or cared. He now wanted Lianna to surrender to him all the more.

  “I was hired by Governor Abbott six months ago to retrieve The Serpent. Wilcox’s pockets are deep and he was able to secure a faction of the Royal Navy for his enterprise. That is why Commodore Bennington is also after the medallion. Believe what you will, but the Commodore has far less honorable principles in the likes of commoners than even most pirates. He would not have hesitated to slaughter you for that pendant upon learning that you had it.

  “Governor Abbott, on the other hand, is more savvy than Wilcox. He has at his disposal a great many buccaneers that will, for a price or a pardon, do his bidding.”

  “So he bought you.”

  “No,” he corrected. “He hired me. Abbott wanted the medallion bad enough to commission the fastest, most successful privateer he knew.”

  “Privateer? Is that what you call yourself?”

  Zane cared not to answer to her about his means for making wealth. In fact, he had grown tired of talking at all. There were more enjoyable ways to spend his time than prattling. With the bonny too much longer in his chambers, he was liable to toss out his civilized restraint and take from her what he had wanted since their first encounter. That need gnawed deep within him. Oddly enough, he decided to let her go unmolested.

  “Once we get to Tortuga, as per our agreement, you’ll give me The Serpent and I’ll have you ferried to shore safely. I will then arrange to have you returned to Nassau.

  “Now, unless you are willing to take this discussion to a more physical level, in which case I could breach your fortifications, ’tis time for you to retire to your cabin.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Jason set Lianna’s breakfast on her dresser as she finished straightening her bed.

  “The Capt’n asked me to bring you this.” He pulled out a small book from the pocket of his trousers.

  It had been three days since she last spoke with Captain Fox, since they discussed The Serpent and her fate. That he had not asked for her left her unsettled. She wondered if she had insulted him in some way, notably flirting with his advances. She just hadn’t been able to resist. There was something about the captain that made her fear him and desire him simultaneously. Her fear in him no longer bludgeoned her with horrific visions of torture, like in the stories she had heard of ruthless pirates from blithering drifters. A dangerous man, Zane Fox, of that she had no doubt. But she had become attracted to that danger. He was a forbidden path she longed to explore. And that terrified her. She had never felt that way about a man. Dangerous men passed through the Black Dog’s door nightly. None of them held any interest for her. Most were drunkard fire pots casting about for a fight. Years spent in the underbelly of society, batting away filthy hands and lecherous intents, taught her to avoid these men.

  Captain Fox stirred that strange feeling in her again. Maybe ’twas merely seasickness or indigestion. And although he had seen to her comforts, she still felt not as a guest, but rather his captive. But then how was she supposed to feel? A pirate doesn’t go about entertaining his victims.

  Jason handed Lianna the book.

  “What is this?” She opened it to the first page. “A collection of short stories?”

  “He thought you might want to pass the time away with it, you know, being down here alone all day.” He glanced around the room.

  She, too, looked around at her surroundings. Lianna could not deny the comfort of her prison cell, but she really was beside herself with brood and boredom.

  A deck of playing cards hidden in the chest of drawers had kept her busy for awhile. She had a fondness for games of chance. Gambling was an ordinary interest among the regulars at the Black Dog. Occasionally, in the wee hours of the morning, she would be invited to play a few hands. She didn’t think it so much as a friendly gesture as ’twas the need of another player. Still, she enjoyed the game. Many a cur squandered his wealth gambling. It never really surprised her— the fortunes won and lost, the brawls that commonly broke out with accusations of cheating, or the occasional life lost when bluffs were called. However, the ignorance of many gamblers astounded her. They played with greed, strategy, superstitions or even boasting the luck of a woman on a lap. Win, lose, draw, it all amounted to knowledge. Chance was chance any way ’twas looked upon, but how to turn that risk into a sure thing and know when to fold was key. For her, she was either very knowledgeable or extremely lucky on account she proved hard to beat.

  Lianna welcomed the distraction, first cards, and now a book. She was unaccustomed to having so much time to fritter away.

  “Thank you, Jason. And please give Captain Fox my gratitude. I should be delighted to read this book.”

  She sat down at the writing table. “Come, Jason.” The time had come to pry. She patted the soft bed next to her. “Sit.”

  Jason hesitated, looking down at his grubby clothes.

  “It’s okay. You won’t stain the spread.” She nodded for him to sit and smiled. “Tell me,” she continued as he took his place. “Do you know how to read?”

  “A little.” He kept his eyes on the floor. “The Capt’n sometimes tries to teach me.”

  “Oh?” Captain Fox? A teacher? How very…intriguing.

  “Aye, when we are on long voyages, he tries to give me lessons. I’m not very good.”

&nbs
p; Jason twitched with restlessness. His knees knocked together and he kept an eye on the door.

  “I bet you are very good. Here, tell me what this says.” She handed him the book, pointing to an open page.

  He stared at the first sentence for a long moment. “Upon the south wind’s, uh…” pausing, his lips silently sounded out the word before he continued, uncertain. “Breath, cometh a warm smell of rain.”

  “Brilliant!” She clapped her hands together.

  Jason grinned wide and toothy.

  “I should think you an astute pupil. Captain Fox must be pleased with you.”

  His face lit up as a son’s might after making his father proud.

  “Jason, why are you his cabin boy?”

  He fumbled the book closed and shot a nervous look to the door. She realized she may have broached the question too soon. But she had to know. The crew on the ship seemed eclectic at best. Scurvy seamen, a literate cabin boy, a libertine, a Lilliputian man with a fancy for cooking and ribbons, and a dangerous gentleman pirate captain, it all seemed too puzzling.

  “Are you being held against your will here? Did he kidnap you?”

  Jason hopped to his feet. “Oh, no, ma’am. No, ma’am.” Emphatically, he shook his head. “The Capt’n, he saved my life. I am here to repay my debt to him.”

  “Saved your life? From the noose?” Why would anyone want to hang a child?

  He touched the scar around his tender little neck. “Aye. ’Twas a bit of luck that he was in the square that day.” Jason sat back down, his left foot bouncing restlessly.

  Wrought with anguish, she urged him to proceed.

  “Natty lad caught thieving, I was.” Shame washed over his expression. He shot her a look as if expecting her disapprobation. “The only way I could keep from starving.”

  “But a death sentence is too harsh for such a crime.”