The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1)

by P. S. Bartlett

  “I put the lad ta’ work in the galley. Wasn’t much else fer him ta’ do, and it keeps him outta trouble. If ye don’t mind me askin’, Cap’n, what are we lookin’ fer?”

  “You’ll know it when you see it.” Ivory started off to follow Keara and James. Concerned for his injury, she wanted to see that he was properly cared for. Upon reaching Keara’s cabin, she tapped on the door and called out in a low voice, “Ke, is everything alright?”

  A second later, the door pulled open and Keara stepped out into the hallway. “He’ll be fine. We’re just washing up, and I’m tending to him. He won’t need the surgeon. It’s only a bad bruise.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’ll be fine, once I get out of these bloody things and have a drink or two. What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “You are the only one standing here, aren’t you?” Keara remarked with a quizzical look.

  “I suppose I’m just unaccustomed to worrying about myself. I’m fine, though,” she answered with a heavy sigh. “We’ll be out of here soon. Damn! I just remembered there’s something I need to do. See you on deck later for the services, I hope?”

  Keara tossed her head back towards James in the room and said, “If he’s up to it. Kipper, the chubby one, was a long-time friend. James is taking it pretty hard.”

  “Understood. All the more reason to pay his respects, I’d say. Well…until tonight then.”

  Ivory made her way down the passageway in the growing darkness. She stopped and lit a candle on the way and carried it in front of her, even though she’d taken that walk more times than she cared to remember. As she passed Cassandra’s cabin, she knocked lightly on the door. “Hey, I have something for you.”

  Ivory lifted the satchel strap over her head and held it out to Cassandra, as she only slightly opened the door. “Twenty thousand.”

  “And two dead men,” Cassandra said as she stood at the threshold, holding the door open only as far as necessary.

  “Yes, unfortunately. But, we’re going home, Cass.”

  “Home? You mean we’re going back to Port Royal.”

  “Is something wrong? Because if so, I wish you’d just tell me.”

  “I’m just tired. We’re all tired,” Cassandra sighed as she pulled the bundle of money from the burlap sack and looked it over. “You were right; this is the end of the line.”

  “You take care with that. We’ve a thief aboard.” Ivory turned to walk away. “And please, don’t fret yourself to death. I’ll get us to the end of the line all in one piece.” Ivory nodded as Cassandra closed the door, and she continued to her cabin, fumbling in her pocket for the key. As she approached, she noticed the door was slightly ajar, and she leaned back to pull her sword.

  With her powerful kick, the door blew open and banged hard against the wall. Richard jumped and gasped, nearly dropping the bottle of rum in his hand. “Sink me, Cap’n! You scared the devil outta me!”

  Ivory took a deep breath and blew it out. “Richard, dammit, the devil has flown from me as well.” The room glowed in soft candlelight. He had made up her bunk with fresh linen, brought her a hot meal, and was about to pour her a cup of rum to wash it down. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a rather trying day. Thank you for doing this,” she said as she sheathed her sword.

  “Yer awful bloody. I hope it ain’t yers. I brought ye a fresh pitcher of water so ye can clean yerself up.”

  Ivory leaned back against her desk, and her shoulders fell forward as she rubbed at her brow and closed her eyes. “I think I’ll just wash what I have to…and eat…and then get some sleep. Wake me at ten, will you?” Richard’s eyes were wild as if it were more than that swift kick of the door and a raised sword that still held them open so wide. “What is it?”

  “What is what?”

  “What are you so frightened of? I said I was sorry.” She stepped to him and circled him in the center of the room. She felt guilty for frightening the boy, but her instincts, though shrouded in exhaustion, were shouting in her head.

  “I’m not frightened. Not frightened a bit.” Richard stepped sideways around Ivory until he reached the door. “Is there anything else, Cap’n?”

  “Noooo…are you certain you’re alright?” she asked as she appraised him.

  “Oh! I almost forgot! One more thing—wait here.” Richard dashed from the room, and Ivory closed the door behind him. She whipped off her cavalier and hung it on the rack by the door, and then lumbered back to her desk. She removed her belt and weapons, sat them to the side, and then dropped like a bag of rocks into her chair. When she leaned down with a groan to remove her boots, she’d barely pulled the first one over her heel when Richard knocked three times on the door.

  “Oh, for the love of Christ, Richard, come in!”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Captain Shepard, but this here fella is here to sign on”.

  “That’s just wonderful,” she said with a swing of sarcasm as she peeked up at the filthy sailor standing at the door for an instant, just to ensure she wasn’t about to be ambushed, before lowering her head again to remove her other boot. She threw them across the floor to the foot of her bed and then fumbled through her desk for the crew’s log. When she finally found it, she opened the book and shoved it across the desk at the man. “Do you have experience because I normally don’t take on men of your advanced age? No offense. However, you’re in luck, as I lost two seasoned sailors today, and we’re in need.”

  “Yes.”

  She tossed papers about and finally found her quill, uncovered the ink well, and dipped it. “Make your mark please,” she said as she handed it to him. “The code is the first two pages of the log. Can you read?” The man nodded. “Good. Read it before you sign.”

  The man kept his head lowered and only nodded, as if he were down on his luck and this was his last resort. His hat was scarred and full of holes, and it seemed as if his clothes hadn’t been laundered—ever. She avoided staring at him, as he appeared shamed in some way. Ivory stood and walked away from the man to the wash basin. He ignored her advice and signed the log immediately. Then, he dusted the ink and blew on it until it was dry. As she poured the water in the basin, she studied her face in the mirror on the shelf by her bunk. She bent over and pooled the fresh water in her hands and splashed and rubbed at her face repeatedly with soap until the blood was gone.

  Pin by pin, she released her hair and it fell in waves down her back. She combed through it with her fingers and then pulled it back into a braid, smoothing it away from her face with her wet hands. “Almost through? I’ve had the day from hell, and I’d like to get a bit of shut-eye,” she said as she walked back to the table and took a long drink from her cup. “Mmm. Now that’s more like it. Are you hungry?” she asked him, as she picked up a hunk of fresh bread, ripped off a piece, and held it out to him. She felt the ship moving and smiled. “Too late to change your mind now, unless you’d like to swim for it.”

  “No. I mean, no, thank you. Not hungry,” he mumbled.

  “You don’t say much, do you?”

  He shook his head and closed the log.

  “Well, let me see here…” Ivory chomped on her bread and took another swig from her cup. She raised it at the man in offering as she sat down, but again, he shook his head and kept his eyes low.

  “Are you running from something, or someone? Not that it matters,” she commented with a half-smile. “Hand me that log, will you?”

  The man slid the book back across the desk to her, and she sat up in her chair and flipped it open to the code. “Read this over well, I trust? We take this very seriously, Mister…” she said as she flipped the book forward for his name, but stopped, distracted at the names of the two deceased crewmen. She dipped the quill and made the notations of their demise, along with the date, location, and approximate time of death. She took care to note their bravery in battle, and also what their next of kin, if any, would be paid in compensation for their lives.

  Ivory flinc
hed as she caught a glimpse of the man shifting in his chair, his head lowered and his hair obscuring much of his face. Her instincts kicked in again for a moment, and then she relaxed again and turned to his log entry. “Mister…” she said, and then froze. “Is this some sick attempt at humor, sir?”

  The man didn’t speak. He at last lifted his chin from his chest and raised his eyes to her. When she met them, her own eyes were filled with rage. Before she could speak again, he raised his right hand, slapped it down on the desk, and then put both hands up. There, sitting where his hand hit the desk a second before, was her razor. She leapt to her stocking feet. He, too, stood so fast that the chair flew from under him and tipped over backwards, crashing against the floor. “What is it with you and I and chairs, love?”

  “But…but you’re…you’re supposed to be dead!” Ivory shouted as she flew around the desk and struck him hard across the face with her open hand.

  “Dammit, Ivory! Is that any way at all to welcome someone back from the grave?”

  She ripped the hat from his head and threw it to the floor. “Dear God, it is you!”

  “Well, hardly a god, but it is, in fact, me. Alive and well, depending on how you perceive “well” to be. You…don’t seem very happy to see me,” he said with a grimace as he rubbed at his flushed red cheek.

  “What did you expect? Did you think I’d throw myself on you?”

  “Perhaps not but a polite hello and a bit of gratitude for saving your life would have been refreshing.” Maddox sat the chair upright and took a seat. “Come and sit down, and we’ll calmly discuss all of this,” Maddox smiled with his unmistakable charm and patted his lap to invite her.

  “You’re ridiculous! I should make you take that swim.” Ivory backed away from him with her arms folded. Her face was fierce and mistrusting, but her heart pounded so loudly she feared he would hear it if she stood too closely. Without turning her back on him, she strolled to her seat and waited for his explanation. A dead silence reigned in the room for several moments until, finally, Maddox spoke. “I’ve come here to explain…”

  “Explain what?” Ivory interrupted.

  “Well, if you’ll be so kind as to allow me to speak, then I will tell you...”

  “Did you come for the diamonds?”

  “Do you still have them?” he asked as he relaxed and shifted in his seat.

  “No. I sold them.” Ivory moved back to her chair and lowered herself to the seat slowly.

  “Sold them to whom? Dead men? That is certainly not your blood,” he commented as he looked her over carefully.

  “No, this isn’t my blood. Dead men tell no tales, correct?”

  “Tsk, tsk, Madame. Cold-blooded murder is not your credo. You’re a pirate of the highest principles, as if that makes a hint of sense. You, my dear, are anything but a murderer.”

  “It’s all taken care of. That’s all you need to know.”

  “For the record, I couldn’t care less about those blasted diamonds.”

  “Then why are you here? Certainly not to carry me off again, because that won’t happen.”

  “What if that was the reason I’m here?” Maddox rose slowly and took one step, when Ivory sat back and glanced at the floor where she dropped her belt. “Don’t. Please,” he begged, waving his palm at her. “Let’s not fight anymore. I’m so weary of it. I just want to take you in my arms…and love you. Is that too much to ask?”

  Ivory rose to her feet again and watched as Maddox stood with his arms outstretched to welcome her, yet she didn’t move. Her feet felt glued to the floor, and with what small bit of resolve she had left, she maintained her distance…until, without so much as a blink, that thread of strength snapped, and she collapsed back into the chair. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I assure you, my love, I’m as serious as I have ever been,” he said as he dashed around the desk and snatched her by her arms. He lifted her straight up and pulled her tightly against him, pressing kiss upon kiss against her throbbing head. She was limp in his embrace, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to support her. His other hand flew to her face as her head fell back, and he pulled it forward, staring straight into her lidded eyes. “Run away with me, Ivory. I have associates all over the world who will aid our cause—just you and I.”

  “Maddox, you’re insane.”

  “Soon, everyone will know it wasn’t me who washed up on the beach in Nassau, and they’ll be after me with swift justice. Alone, both of us will surely meet our ends, now even more so than before, but together…together, we’ll go on and grow old together somewhere far from here.”

  “But my life is too complicated, and I’ve so many open ends to tie.”

  “Leave the frayed ends, and we’ll weave a new life and begin again. Don’t you realize this is our chance to be free? I have more than enough money to carry us away from here. I have a lifetime of wrongs to right, starting and ending with you.”

  “You’ve already made your decision. Have I no say in this escape plan?” she whispered, as again her head tipped back and she gazed up at him—weathered and worry-worn. He was stripped down to nothing more than a man and it was as if the flesh was flayed from his bones, leaving him bloody and raw. Tears had begun to roll from the corners of her eyes and upon seeing them, Maddox kissed them away.

  “The morning I let you go, I already knew. I used every excuse and weapon in my possession to combat my feelings for you, but it was already too late. Please speak to me. Tell me what I want to hear,” he begged, shaking her gently and then pulling her close. Her cheek pressed flat against his chest, and she languished with her arms hanging at her sides.

  “When they told me you were dead, I went cold,” Ivory said softly. “I hadn’t shed a tear since I was a girl, but they came on me in waves of anguish. Until I heard those words, I wasn’t sure. I knew then that I loved you, for how else could I have handed myself over to a man with such passion and without caution? How else could the news of your death…have caused me to wish for my own?” Ivory spoke in whispers, as if she were speaking only to herself. Exhausted, and in desperate need of rest, the raw power of at last giving herself over to Maddox was more than even she could withstand. The physical love she shared with him had each time drained her flesh and left her perilously weak, but handing over her heart and soul left her feeling closer to death than staring down a loaded gun.

  Maddox loosened his hold on her, and her body drifted and flowed in his arms. He leaned down and slid his arm behind her knees, and he lifted her. At last, her hands were on him, sliding up over his arms until they connected beneath the dark hair gathered at the back of his neck. As he carried her to her bunk, she pulled at the leather tie in his hair, releasing it so that she could wind her fingers once again into his black mane. She was almost asleep.

  “Don’t leave me,” she breathed into his ear as he leaned in over her. A second later, she closed her eyes.

  A few hours later, she awoke to a knock and Richard’s voice calling her to the service for the fallen men. Maddox sat sleeping in her desk chair with his bare feet propped and his hands folded at his chest. She roused him, but only to tell him where she was going and that she’d return soon. Once her somber duty was complete, she rushed back to her cabin and ordered Richard not to disturb her for the night, unless they were under attack.

  When she closed the door behind her, she heard Richard’s faint giggle and shouted through the door at him to go away and find something constructive to do, or go to bed. Maddox rose from the chair and met her halfway through the room. They collided as two ships in battle, attacking each other—neither willing to relent. Battered and raked bare, he swept her up in his arms and again, carried her to her bunk.

  * * * *

  Ivory awoke the next morning covered in only a sheet. She writhed and stretched as the first beams of sunlight broke the window panes and laid a pattern of golden squares and rectangles throughout her cabin. Through squinted, swollen eyes, the room focused and became once
again familiar, but for the muscular golden arm now pressing down and around her waist, and the firm but tender palm resting flat against her abdomen. A contented smile rose from her feet until it washed over her face and escaped as a sigh. She gazed at his wrist and found a curious, and unlikely, piece of jewelry which was far different from any of the ornate pieces with which he usually adorned himself.

  Her shoulder dipped backwards, and she turned beneath Maddox’s secure embrace to face him. She longed to be the first eyes he looked into every morning, and the last he saw at night. Her wish was granted when her stirring roused him, and his long, dark lashes fluttered, drawing up to reveal those emerald green jewels, still covered in a veil of sleepiness.

  Ivory rose on one elbow and gazed down at his face—still flawless, though covered in stubble, and perhaps even more handsome than ever before. He wore her love on his skin like moonlight and sunlight as they passed each other at dawn and dusk. He was golden, yet he also wore a shroud of pale silver beneath the bit of light creeping though the sheer curtains draped around them. There was no longer space between them for words, and his mouth found hers the moment she leaned in for a closer look.

  His hands explored her, until he discovered the smooth dip of her lower back, and he inched her closer against him as they lay, still locked in a tender, yet impassioned, kiss. When she had thought him dead, she’d all but barred the memory of how the soft feathered hair of his chest felt against her bare skin, as well as the strength of his back as it rippled when he moved under her touch. Most of all, she’d buried the bliss of his breath in her ear and the low, soft sounds he made as he made love to her and shredded her ability to defend herself. Something in his touch gave her permission to feel good when she was at her most vulnerable. She loved him freely, and in doing so, she was at last complete. Every pleasure was now exhumed. This time, she surrendered each suffering piece of herself. This time, she was fearless. This time, it was their true first time.