by Cheryl Howe
THE PIRATE’S JEWEL
by
Cheryl Howe
First Printing, March 2004
Copyright 2004 © by Cheryl Howe
First Kindle Edition, June 2013
Copyright 2013 © by Cheryl Howe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Kimberly Killion, The Killion Group
Proof reading by Faith Williams, The Atwater Group
To my dad, Les Howe.
Thanks for introducing me to historical romance and sailing
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
Charles Town, South Carolina, 1775
How could all her dreams have come to this? Jewel Sanderson glanced across the tavern filled with patrons taking their noontime meal. At a small table next to the wall sat her future husband, picking through his uneaten stew. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to accept the inevitable. With a tray of empty tankards balanced on her hip, she crossed the crowded room and put as much distance between Latimer Payne and herself as possible.
She set the tray on the long bar without bothering to wipe away the perpetual puddle of ale that warped the varnish. Marriage was her only option and Latimer Payne her only prospect. After five years without a word from him, it was past time she accepted the fact that her father wasn’t coming back. The memories she clung to—a moonlit battle, a pirate’s map, a golden swashbuckler of a father with eyes the same green as her own—had withered to nothing more than the diaphanous dreams of a lonely adolescent. She was no longer a girl and had to look her choices square in the eye.
If it weren’t for the blasted map she kept wrapped in a silk handkerchief beneath her mattress, maybe she would have realized her father’s vow to return was as false as the one he’d made to her mother, to ensure her welfare and that of the unborn Jewel when he’d deposited them in Charles Town all those years ago. He’d not bothered to honor his promise then; there was little room left to believe he would now.
Jewel glanced back to the table where Latimer Payne sat. Her mother slipped into the empty chair opposite him. Jewel stuck the wet rag in her apron pocket, not caring if it soaked all the way through to her best dress. She had to stop her mother from delivering her to the man by sundown.
Reaching the table, Jewel forced a smile. “May I bring you another ale, Master Payne?”
He didn’t stand at her approach. Not that Jewel expected him to court her—the thought actually caused an involuntary shudder. Everyone involved knew this was no more than a business arrangement. Latimer needed a housekeeper and mother for his five children, and Jewel needed a protector. Or at least that was what her mother had decided. Jewel disagreed. Still, she understood what drove her mother. The woman’s greatest fear was that Jewel would lose her heart to the wrong man and find herself in the same strait she had—unmarried, pregnant, alone.
“Jewel.” Her mother’s strained tone snapped Jewel back to the present. Worry knitted the woman’s brow and had aged her since this morning. “Latimer is concerned about the trouble we’re having with our customers. He doesn’t think it proper for a maid to be around men of such temperament.”
Payne brought a pinch of snuff to his long nose and sniffed loudly. After a vigorous fit of sneezing, he cleared his throat. “Such violent outbursts are a sure sign of a choleric humor. Too much yellow bile. A good cupping would do them well.”
Jewel tried to keep her smile from becoming a grimace. Latimer Payne had asked for her hand after he treated her, free of charge, for a burn she had on her arm from the kitchen fire. He had heated a glass cup, placed it on the burn, and when the hot cup raised a blister, he’d lanced it. The burn did heal, but the blister got infected.
“Perhaps some of your fine treatment would cure them of the ailment, sir,” suggested Jewel. Maybe if he were busy with other patients, he’d forget about her.
Latimer took a long swig of ale. He lifted his mug and handed it to her mother. “Another if you would, Mistress Sanderson.”
Jewel’s mother got up with the tankard in her hand. Before she left to do Master Payne’s bidding, she gave Jewel a warning look. Her displeasure Jewel could tolerate, but the pleading she saw in response to her own gaze forced her to stay when she wanted only to snatch the mug from her mother’s hand and fetch Payne’s ale herself.
Payne gestured toward the empty chair. “Sit. You look pale.”
“Thank you, but I have customers.”
He cleared his throat. “Those men, the choleric ones, they aren’t the type of patients I take on. Their violent temperaments make them too difficult to control. Brute force is all they understand.”
Jewel nodded, slightly nauseous. Marriage to this man would give her the chance to have a life of relative comfort. She’d be much better off than her mother. Even the taint of illegitimacy would be lessened with her securely yoked to an upstanding citizen.
And it would permanently smother the last breath of the woman she knew she was meant to be. If only she knew that the map her father left led to an actual treasure, her choice would be simple. The idea of persuading a captain to help her locate it, and then have nothing to pay him with except herself was unappealing, but with her father’s prolonged absence and the inevitability of her marriage to a man she found slightly revolting, allying herself with a stranger might not be such a bad option. Unfortunately, the fact that her father had never returned also led her to the conclusion that his map held no real value. Perhaps the treasure had already been found. Perhaps her father had merely provided the map because he’d wanted to escape her pleas to go with him.
Jewel picked up Payne’s crockery bowl, which remained half full of stew that had obviously grown cold. “I need to see to my customers.”
“Of course, see to your customers. But don’t take too long to accept my suit. The element here is more stimulating than is proper for a woman. Take that gentleman who just walked in the door. He’s sure to cause trouble.”
Jewel followed Latimer’s gaze. The gentleman in question stood at the far end of the room, in shadow. Jewel blinked, trying to place the familiarity she felt. The way he filled the doorframe, his height, his presence—all singled him out from the men around him. But after all this time, it couldn’t be him. Her father? A rush of hope swelled from her chest and filled her throat. She couldn’t breathe, much less speak.
Latimer sniffed loudly. “Too much blood. Sanguine humor. Full-blooded and bloodthirsty. Stay away from him.”
Jewel set the bowl she
held down with a clank, plucked at the ties of her apron, and left it all lying on Latimer’s table. She heard Payne’s sputtering protests as she darted between a bank of tables and long benches, ignored calls for her attention from impatient patrons, her focus only on the stranger. No doubt desperation conjured the impossible, but a hopeful flutter under her rib cage swore she wasn’t wrong.
The new arrival stepped more solidly into the tavern and Jewel’s determined stride faltered. His hair was dark, not blond. A tide of disappointment threatened to whisk her off her feet. Just when she had convinced herself of her foolishness for believing her father would return for her, a glimpse of a stranger could bring it all back. The fresh loss cut her anew, a hot knife through her heart.
She continued her approach, knowing she’d appear even more foolish if she abruptly retreated. To hide her despair, she tilted her chin up slightly. Her show of false confidence brought her gaze to his face. She was surprised by what she saw.
He was uncommonly handsome. Jet eyebrows framed blue, vibrant eyes. A full mouth softened his strong jaw and conspired to make his rough features almost beautiful. Jewel’s stare touched him from head to toe. He was tall, lean, and muscular all the way down to the taut calves emphasized by his knee-length breeches. When her eyes returned to his face, he scowled at her obvious admiration.
Recognition hit her like a cold blast of air off the ocean. Her desperate wishes were answered—though not by her father but the man who’d accompanied him on his fateful visit so long ago. She stared at his features with undisguised intensity, teetering on the edge of doubt. As she tried to remember this man’s face, he looked familiar and strange at the same time. His name came to mind.
“Nolan?” It felt right on her tongue.
His curt nod confirmed her shaky memory but warned he wasn’t as pleased to see her again as she was him. Even so, Jewel breathed a sigh of relief. Fate had intervened. Not only had her father finally come for her, his timing proved dramatic. Perhaps he waited outside. She glanced over Nolan’s shoulder and out onto the busy street. Before she could speak, he directed her to the edge of a long table away from the other customers.
He laid his tricorn hat on a clear spot between empty tankards and piled bowls crusted with dried stew. Jewel reached for the dirty dishes, a comment about a busy noonday on the tip of her tongue. Simple speech seemed a difficult task, though, in this physical presence of a dream come to life.
She resisted the urge to glance at Latimer. The fact that he probably hadn’t vanished into thin air like the villain from a fairy tale once the curse was broken didn’t mean her father wasn’t waiting on a ship in the nearby harbor.
Nolan shoved aside plates along with a half-eaten loaf of bread and gestured for her to sit. His stern gaze didn’t invite argument. Though his manner was commanding, she took note that he patiently stood until she found her seat across the bench. With her shoulders high, she gripped her ale-soaked gray wool skirts and spread them as if she wore voluminous silk the colors of spring. He knew she was more than just a lowly barmaid without family or status; she was the daughter of a notorious pirate and a woman who held the key to a treasure.
He straddled the polished oak bench and removed his gloves. “I see you remember—”
“Oh, I remember.” Jewel’s nerves stretched at Nolan’s decidedly unfriendly manner. A fluttering of her heart in a sensation close to fear forced her to purse her lips to stop their tremor. “I never told a soul about that night. I’d almost begun to believe I dreamed it.”
She studied Nolan, trying to reassure herself of his familiarity. But he wasn’t familiar. If he’d not scowled, she might not have recognized him at all. He was no longer the awkward youth who had challenged her father the night the treasure map had been given to her for safekeeping. At the time, she’d thought him not much older than herself. Now he seemed like a seasoned man far beyond her years. Suddenly, he was more threat than friend.
The memory of their first meeting resurrected itself with more clarity and fervor as she studied Nolan’s blue eyes and tight jaw. His scowl was the same, though he was now clean-shaven. And his navy coat and pressed fawn breeches belonged to a gentleman. He even wore white stockings. Perhaps it was a disguise.
“I’ve come for the map. Do you still have it?” Nolan’s tan skin had faded to pale olive, leaving the mysterious boy she remembered as merely a serious man.
She leaned across the table. Her excitement in meeting the only other person who knew of her father’s last visit temporarily allowed her to forget the outcome of their encounter. “I see you recovered from your wound,” she whispered. “If you and my father are still at odds, you’ll not find help from me.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he absently rubbed a spot beneath his left shoulder. “The wound became infected. I almost died. Your father nursed me back to health. Kind of him, since he was the one who saw fit to embed his dagger in my chest in the first place.”
“You didn’t want him to give his map to me. I remember that.”
“The map belongs to me. It’s my grandfather’s treasure, not Bellamy’s. He stole the map from me when I was too young and stupid to do anything about it. Even so, I’m willing to pay you for it—and for your silence all these years. You couldn’t imagine what men would do to gain the map to Captain Kent’s lost treasure.”
Jewel had heard of Captain Kent’s treasure, as had everyone. The pirate had been hanged without revealing its location. For the last seventy years, treasure hunters had scoured the coast, looking for that hidden booty rumored to be worth over one million pounds—a sum Jewel had trouble even imagining. Her father and Nolan had argued over the ownership of the map she now guarded, but neither had mentioned that it was the key to that famous lost treasure. Jewel wiped away beads of perspiration suddenly rising on her forehead. Thank goodness she had resisted the urge to confide in someone, or she might have lost the map to a ruthless opportunist.
She glanced up at Nolan, hoping to persuade herself he was lying. His dark, serious gaze sparked another flood of memories: Nolan, sheathing his sword when the thrown dagger brought him down. Her father, explaining his reasons for wounding the boy he called his protégé. Their apparent friendship before that.
Sudden doubt threatened to topple Jewel’s dreams of escape, but she pushed it away. Mere moments ago, her frantic wish had been instantly answered. For nothing, not even her own doubts, would she let Nolan slip through her fingers. She’d leave this place and find both the treasure and her father.
A wary expression crossed Nolan’s face before he dropped his gaze to the oak table, effectively silencing her. A hush descended on the disjointed chatter in the tavern.
Jewel studied the tables around them, sure someone had overheard them mention the treasure. Instead, a group of British soldiers strolled past, chilling her more than a random eavesdropper could have. The blue-coated naval officer wasn’t an uncommon sight, but the five red-coated marines who accompanied him, bayoneted muskets slung over their shoulders, could only mean trouble. These men hadn’t arrived for a late afternoon meal.
“Are they after you?” Jewel leaned across the table and whispered to Nolan.
He spared her a brief glance. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”
Jewel watched the British move around the tavern, not bothering to hide the fact that they were checking the faces of the patrons. Harvey, the tavern’s owner, sat at a table, sharing an ale with a group of regulars. He didn’t appear eager or willing to greet them.
Jewel glanced at Nolan again, who sneaked cautious glimpses of the soldiers. Though he dressed like a gentleman, she’d not be surprised in the least to discover he had a price on his head. And the longer he stayed in the same room with representatives of law and order, the more likely his identity was to be discovered.
She stood. “I’m going to see what they want. Leave once I’ve distracted them.” She mouthed the last words. The possibility that she’d not see him for anoth
er five years was a risk she would take. He’d do her no good behind bars; less dangling from a noose.
Nolan’s grip on her wrist surprised her with its suddenness. “Sit down. Do nothing.”
She tugged, but he didn’t budge in his restraint. “I have customers, sir. I’d appreciate you keeping your hands to yourself.” She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
The British turned to see what was going on. Their smirks proved they found the exchange amusing. Nolan released his grip and averted his face, but not before he gave her a scathing glance. To ensure the British focus stayed on her, Jewel sauntered in the soldiers’ direction, an inviting smile on her lips.
“Gentlemen. Welcome to the Quail and Queen. Shall I find you a table and bring you a tankard?”
The smile from a tall, wigged marine deepened to a leer. Jewel speculated he was an officer by the quality of his red uniform and the fact that he carried a sword. “I think I’d prefer what he thought he was getting,” the man said.
Jewel returned his smile but ignored the innuendo, gesturing to a table discreetly and abruptly vacated. “Please, have a seat and I’ll take your order.”
The older, heavyset naval officer who was obviously in charge cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. We didn’t come to partake of your fine establishment.” His tone was pleasant enough, if condescending. He swept the room again with his eyes. “Just a friendly visit to let the good people of Charles Town know that the Royal Navy is glad to be of service.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s good to know.” She affected a polite nod. She wanted to glance back to see if Nolan had slipped away, but she dared not bring any attention to him. “Is there anything else we can do to be of service to you this fine afternoon?” She just wanted them gone before Nolan and her father got nervous and escaped Charles Town without her.
The marine officer’s wicked laugh forced her to realize her blunder. “I’m so glad you asked. Sometimes these situations can be awkward. May I request the pleasure of your company later?”