Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “Enough!” His voice bellowed throughout the tiny room, bringing the melee to a sudden stop.

  Lianna and Sadie were covered in plumage. Feathers stuck in their hair, feathers stuck to their clothes, feathers stuck to their dewy skin. A couple of biddies with their beady eyes trained on him.

  He had hoped the women had enough civility to get along, or at least pretend to, until the Rissa made it to port. They hadn’t lasted an hour. Zane gave a heavy sigh. “This apparently was a mistake.”

  “Damn right it was.” Sadie pointed her finger at Lianna. “She attacked me.”

  Lianna’s mouth fell open. “I did not.” She slapped away Sadie’s finger. “She’s a filthy liar.”

  Zane stepped between the girls as Sadie swung her pillow, swatting him in the shoulder. Feathers flew into his face and Zane found himself gagging on a plume. He coughed and heaved until his chest hurt and hacked up the feather.

  “Eww.” Lianna waved her hands in disgust.

  Blade had been trying hard to squelch his laughter, but evidently he found it all too humorous. “What say the wise man, now?

  CHAPTER 8

  In his cabin, Zane leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Barely noon and already it had been a very long day. He ordered Sadie down into the ship’s galley to scrub pots for Henri, while Jason helped Lianna pluck the cabin clean of goose feathers. And Blade, well, his best mate had been merciless.

  This conquest he had agreed to undertake turned out to be more than he bargained for. He should have been able to retrieve The Serpent with little impediment and slip away into his beloved sea with nary a shot fired. But with Bennington’s future at stake, Zane knew full well he had a battle on his hands. He hated that he would be the reason for the Commodore’s ultimate downfall. But such was the life of what many may consider a pirate.

  Zane hadn’t counted on Lianna Whitney, however. He was unaccustomed to such a woman with the breath of fire. Small and fragile she seemed, yet wholly brazen and strong. No doubt the considerable ease she bestowed upon the eyes, too.

  Sure, he’d been familiar with strong beautiful women. Many adorned his arm all over the Caribbean. His Sadie fronted center stage on that platform. But she was poison. In fact, given any amount of free will and all women were capable of being virulent. Possessive, helpless, maniacal, devious, selfish, any one of those words could describe a woman. They could be tender in your embrace or calculating in your bed. And never to be trusted. Indubitably, he had his pleasure. Fancied his ladies, fulfilled his needs, but he kept his doxies at arm’s length.

  And yet, Lianna was different. Her strength drew from hardened experiences. She wasn’t soured and self pitying but genuine and hopeful. A dreamer and deserving as such. He regarded her as a survivor. He had admiration for her fortitude and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had that kind of pugnacity in between the sheets.

  “Excuse me for interrupting. I know how much I hate it when someone disturbs me in the middle of a woolgathering tryst.”

  Zane pretended to be unaware of Blade’s meaning as his friend pulled up a chair across from him.

  “Come now, I know you’re preoccupied with thoughts of claiming Lianna. I’ve harbored my own sweet dalliance with her.”

  Zane raised an eyebrow.

  “Ahem.” Blade’s lame attempt to clear his throat drew attention that he revealed too much of his own pocketed desires.

  Blade wisely changed the subject. “Most of the repairs we can manage will be done by nightfall. But we will be overwrought and harried to make it to Garra Island by then. We are still taking on water.”

  “The Rissa will make it. Just tell the men to keep her as dry as they can. We’ll be able to careen her easily once we get to the island. The shoal there is soft enough, you remember. We can fix her quickly at low tide.” But by Zane’s calculations, they’d have to wait for the high tide to shove off, stranding them a little longer than he felt comfortable.

  “Any sign of Bennington?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. If he isn’t following our course, he shouldn’t happen upon us at Garra. We’ll be able to finish what we started.”

  Blade gave a knowing nod. Zane spoke about more than just his damaged ship.

  *****

  Disappointment tunneled within Lianna when Captain Fox had not summoned her to eat alongside him in his cabin.

  “Is he eating alone?” She had asked Jason as he set her tray of food on the chest of drawers.

  But the young lad knew nothing of what the captain was doing or whom he was entertaining.

  She retired sullenly and awoke still dismayed that she may have displeased Zane. But then why should she care? Her dealings with the rogue were done. Let that crafty hellcat have him. Yet, the very thought of Sadie’s scheme inflamed her. Ooh. She shook her clenched fists.

  Exhausted, she waited for word of their next port of call and how she would go home. Inwardly, she groaned. What was there to go home to? With the tavern burnt to a cinder, her uncle would surely turn her out. She’d have no place to go. Everything she had she wore on her back. The rest of her meager belongings went up in smoke in her tiny room above the Black Dog.

  What of starting a new life for herself, maybe in Jamaica? Being penniless, she would have to rely on the kindness of others, a notion that made her ill. How could she be cheerful of again enslaving herself to another, of feeling guiltily indebted? Her other alternative would be a convent. A far worse sentence in her mind, for then she would be bound to a pious nothingness. Her dreams would never come true behind the heavy doors of a Christian institute. She preferred her faith to be fastened by the destiny she made for herself.

  With a new day ahead, Lianna decided she would seek room and board in exchange for hard work. Certainly she would rise above the shambles of this latest disaster and reach for the sky again.

  The midday meal of hard tack had come and gone. The lack of fresh food on her plate proved Captain Fox moved past parceling out preferential treatment, reinforcing her assumption of displeasing him. He must find her annoying and troublesome.

  Lianna brushed her hair until it slipped through the bristles like liquid silk, this time without any remorse as to the owner of the silver brush, then plaited it into one long strand. She counted pegs in the ceiling boards and recited some of her favorite poems. She grew tired of playing card games with herself and decided to build a house of cards.

  She became vaguely aware that the ship had run aground, namely because her architectural masterpiece had fallen into a heap. ’Twas a smooth stop with a slight lurch.

  She hoped the captain would have mercy on her, unlocking her from her cell. Fresh air would be nice.

  *****

  “Set up camp here.” Zane instructed a group of men to begin digging holes in the soft white sand that would provide the campfires.

  He knew this island well. A hideout for buccaneers. And little known even among them. Most on his crew were familiar with this swath of land. The Rissa had been occasioned to disappear at times and what better place than an uncharted isle surrounded by dangerous reefs. To sail into the cay, only one safe way existed. An underwater trough cut across the reefs at an odd angle. ’Twould be impossible to cross the cay’s mouth without using the deep water of the channel. A helmsman unfamiliar with the waters would not be able to steer his vessel in without becoming a sea bottom tomb.

  Zane had come to this island by way of a fortunate accident. He was among two dozen or so seamen, including Blade and Henri, which briefly overtook a British navy frigate, escaping on a merchant boat which the warship had intercepted. Some might have called the uprising mutiny. Zane called it justice.

  Even as they stumbled upon the island for refuge, many of the wounded died. Those men didn’t die in vain, however. They died with their freedom. The survivors were stranded a fortnight, repairing the hull damaged by the reef and contemplating their future. Of the thirteen that pulled through, he was certain that nine sti
ll sailed the seas.

  He stood at the edge of the thicket of jungle foliage and surveyed their situation. Zane sent some men into the interior to fill buckets with the clean crystalline water of the nearby stream. Others were delegated to hunt for food. Tonight his crew would feast on roasted rabbit, maybe even venison, and drink their fill.

  If the proverbial Fates allowed, they should be on their way to Port Royal in two days. Then he could rid himself of his burden. No…burdens.

  “Reporting for duty, sir.” Sadie snapped to salute him after she dropped an armload of dry kindling at his feet.

  “Catch your wind, Sadie,” he said. “I’m in no mood for you.”

  “But, Captain, I am but a lowly handmaid awaiting your orders. What will it be? Make you a pallet? Retrieve your favorite grog cup? Pour you a bit of rum? Oh, I know. How about I swab your deck?”

  The heat from her seductive smile crept across his skin. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt such a strange combination of concupiscence and indigestion. The beast in him thrashed to be released.

  “You really don’t expect to seduce me, do you Sadie? Not after all we’ve been through.”

  “No, I suppose not. But I’ve changed, Zane. Really I have. I’ve been living with the guilt of what I did to you, to the men who died, for a long time. I yearn for your forgiveness. It gnaws at my very soul. Please, you must understand that there is no peace for me. Not until you bring me back into your protective arms. Save me, Zane. Please. Make me your Little Wren again.”

  Her voice resonated sincere. At that moment, she seemed so vulnerable. He wanted so much to hold her. He looked away before he made another mistake. “Just go gather more firewood.”

  Sadie put her hand to his chest, the pressure, the warmth evaporated. “I’ll prove to you my worth.”

  Aware that she tried to search his countenance, tried to pin his eyes, he remained fixed on something else entirely. Sadie glanced behind her to see what grabbed his interest—Lianna, coming ashore. She huffed. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.” She trailed her hand down to his trousers, regaining his attention, and gave him a firm squeeze. “The offer still stands, Zane.”

  “Firewood. Now.”

  “Very well.” Sadie lingered a moment too long before drawing out a lengthy huff and walking past him. He didn’t need to glance back; the leaves of the forest curtain rustled with her departure. But he did anyway.

  Zane shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he waited for Lianna to shuffle her way through the loose sand toward him. The act was more out of relieving the pressure in his breeches than out of impatience for the lady. Rounded, delectable pomes of her chest bunched and wiggled with her considerable effort to trundle through the soft white sand of the beach. She made for a nice show.

  Damned women.

  Lianna stopped before him, put her hand on a tree for support, and slipped off her shoe. She tipped it upside down, a stream of sand pouring out.

  “Miss Whitney, do accept my apologies for not letting you come ashore sooner. There was much to be done and I thought it best you stay out of the way.”

  “I realize that I am—what was the term you used? Oh yes—dead weight to you, Captain Fox.” Lianna shoved her shoe back on her bare foot. “But did it occur to you that I might be of some help?”

  Sadie’s proposition reared in his lewd mind, but with a more pleasing view. “I imagine that I could come up with something.” He shifted his weight again.

  “Did I miss something?” She looked at him with suspicion when he offered her only a smile. “Well? What would you have me to do?”

  Let it be, he told himself.

  He had many men repairing the damages to the bulwark. Several more were building lean-tos for tonight’s sleep. He even had a sentry staked out at the uppermost hillside watching for unwanted visitors. There wasn’t much the lass could do for him that didn’t require a certain amount of privacy. But then maybe she wouldn’t object. He directed his stare and wagged his eyebrows.

  “You’re absurd.” Lianna snorted. “You need someone to plumb, I’m sure Sadie will gladly take on the position.”

  Zane chortled. What a saucy slip of a tart.

  “Laundry, then. Everyone’s.”

  *****

  Lianna melted over the pot of boiling water, stirring a batch of filthy worn clothes. She’d been scrubbing away the grime from shirts, jackets, trousers and woolens for the last several hours. There was enough dirt in the water to create another island. She’d call it Squalid Isle, Land of the Bilge Rat. She didn’t mind the work. Not really. This was earning her way to Port Royal. She would owe nothing to Captain Fox or the Rissa. And as an added reward, she wasn’t twiddling her thumbs back in her cabin. Any more time with herself and she was sure to use one of Sadie’s precious blue Egyptian silk scarves as a noose.

  She swiped at the stinging sweat dripping from her hair into her eyes. Perspiration soaked through her clothes, leaving her drenched and smothered. Gusts of sea breeze cooled her, offering cursory reprieves to the heat.

  Sadie sauntered by with a buccaneer on each arm. She pointedly eyed Lianna, pulled the men in and whispered. The three laughed and moved on. An urge to sling scalding water over the witch proved damn near too tempting. Sadie settled in effortlessly with the seamen. It appeared her charm had swayed them to forgive and turn a blind eye to her contumacious betrayal. Lianna seethed. She especially didn’t approve of the wench’s coquettish laughs and subtle touches on the first mate and the captain. Couldn’t they see how glaringly obvious she was, wiling her way into their good graces? Lianna twisted and scoured the laundry into near shreds of threadbare rags.

  She gave in to another passing thought of the captain and his captivating eyes. She had come to know what that sparkling light in his eyes meant, although she admitted to herself his advances weren’t entirely unwelcome. Did he look upon Sadie with such a gaze? She chunked another pair of trousers in the pot and skewered it with her stick, sloshing and agitating it around in the bubbling water. If the rest of the afternoon went by with nary a sight of that wench, she’d be all too glad.

  She had just finished adding land mass to the island and laying out the final tunic to dry by the fire when Henri toddled over.

  “The Capt’n be wantin’ t’ know if you’re done.” He swatted at a mosquito on his neck.

  She wiped her hands dry on the folds of her skirt. “Yes. I’m done.”

  “Those be lookin’ real clean, Miss Whitney.” He picked up a pair of wool stockings. Putting them to his nose, he took a deep whiff. “Smell clean, too.”

  “Thank you, Henri.”

  “A sea dog shouldn’t smell clean. Just isn’t right,” he groused. “Time to eat.”

  Dusk cascaded over the last vestiges of sunlight, but the warmth of the day still clung to the air. Small crackling campfires were spread out, dotting the beach with golden glowing rings. Men huddled around gnashing at their meat and throwing back grog. Few took notice of her now, but those who did gawked as if she were a novelty. She remained careful to keep distance between her and Bull, keenly aware he watched, waited.

  Henri led her to the captain’s campfire. Zane, Blade, Sadie and several others had taken their places around the pit, heartily digging into their repast. She sat down on the empty stump between Zane and Blade, directly across from Sadie, neither acknowledging the other.

  Zane handed her a large green frond. Inside the stiff leaf lay a leg of rabbit and ripe green fruit halves. “The soursop fruit is very good and sweet,” Zane said. “But do not eat the seeds.”

  She picked up the prickly apple-like slice. Her mouth watered with the aroma of the fruit and the smoky scent of wild meat.

  “You must be starving.”

  “I’ve managed on a lot less for much longer,” she said.

  “Aye,” Henri said. “That’d be why we be so scrawny. When the food runs low, we share our sea b’cuits with the weevils.”

  “Ah, q
uit yer bellyachin’.” Willie, the helmsman, leaned over his knee picking meat from his teeth with the tip of his fingernail.

  Willie looked to be ten years or more older than Zane, early forties perhaps. He had a pronounced square chin that he kept cleanly shaven and he wore his brown hair short. His crooked nose had most likely been broken a time or two. His build was strong but his small eyes soft. Lianna reckoned Willie had seen a great deal of action in his lifetime.

  “Them bugs add a bit o’ flavor, is all,” Willie said.

  Lianna cringed. In truth, though, she’d had her share of sparse, unappetizing foodstuffs. Locked away in her room above her uncle’s tavern, she’d counted herself lucky to get the leftover scraps from customers’ dinners scraped onto a plate for her. And usually only after his dog got its share.

  “Speak for yerself, Willie,” grunted Henri. “Only way to stomach ’em is to dip the b’cuit in grog.”

  “Hunger, intense hunger, can lead a man to depravity.” Blade spoke to no one in particular, staring at the fire. Flames reflected the torture in his eyes, hinting that he had slipped into another time, someplace painful and unforgiving. “A man’s got to be careful not to let himself succumb to turpitude because he can’t sate his hunger.”

  “Ahem.” Zane passed Blade a sympathetic look. “Nonetheless, we don’t go without for long.”

  Lianna understood Blade spoke from a dreadful memory and shared his anguish. She took Zane’s lead. “The rabbit is very good. The flavor is woodsy, almost tangy. And very tender.”

  “He was a fat bugger.” Willie boasted. “Easy target. Makes fer good eatin’.”

  Lianna enjoyed the rest of her meal listening to the men recollect blunders and tell jokes. ’Twas not long and she realized the company was rather pleasing. She delighted in listening to the regales of different versions to the same tale, the friendly banter between comrades. Villains, killers, thieves, she hadn’t forgotten. But she witnessed the amicable side of a pirate, the side that reminded her they depended on one another for survival. She envied them and their brotherhood. They were like a family. She missed that, having people around who care for you as you care for them. To be able to love and laugh, to cherish and share, to ease sadness and rejoice in happiness. Frankly, she didn’t think these ruffians went as far as all that. But they watched each other’s backs all the same.