by Sarah West
“Shall we try it again?” he offered, holding out the dress once more. This time it slid down her form without the slightest trouble, and he tied the laces down the back with ease. “It is a beautiful color,” he remarked, moving back towards the pile of boxes as she stared at herself in the mirror. “It makes your eyes look like emeralds.”
She gasped as he fastened a glittering necklace about her throat, her hand rising to finger the cold gems in astonishment. “Logan, where did you get this?”
“I bought it this afternoon; that’s why I was so late returning. I had to travel ten miles to find one I liked.”
“But why?”
“Well, Deacon brought to my attention that Mendoza’s consorts usually find trinkets missing after their night with the Spanish pirate, and so I figured if he was daft enough to not notice you wearing that dress, then this beauty around your neck would surely capture his attention. Along with this,” he added, holding another box towards her. She opened it to find matching diamond and emerald earrings. With care she removed her own simple pearl ear bobs and replaced them with Logan’s gift, placing her old ones in the box so as not to lose them. She turned again to the mirror, tucking a curl behind her ear.
“I hardly recognize myself.”
“Why?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing her bare neck. “You are just as beautiful as ever, only this time, you look like the royalty you deserve to be. And as stunning as I find you even stubbornly dressed in breeches and men’s shirts, I could get used to this new style,” he said with a smirk as his hand dropped to brush the exposed part of her breast. Her pulse quickened.
“I have one more thing for thing for you.” She waited as he retrieved the last and smallest of the boxes.
“I can’t accept anything else. You’ve already spent far too much.”
He chuckled. “You need not worry yourself about how much I spend, Amber. I’ve told you I have more funds than I know what to do with. And besides, this last part is perhaps the most crucial piece of all.” He opened the box and removed a gold band with a large emerald in the center with two shining diamonds on either side, and two perfectly round pearls beside them. “May I?”
Wordlessly she offered her left hand, and he slipped the ring onto her finger. She held it up, the flawless cut of the gems scattering the light in a prism of white and green.
“It’s perfect,” she breathed, fighting down the lump rising in her throat.
“You do like it? And it fits all right?”
“I love it, and it’s exactly the right size, but why?”
“Because Mendoza targets married women, of course, and our façade would not be believable without a wedding band. Pax has one too, a much simpler, unadorned one.”
“Oh, of course.” She dropped her head to hide the color she felt climbing her cheeks. “Logan, may I have a moment alone? I have a few things to do to finish getting ready, and I would like some time to prepare myself.”
“Of course,” he said, eyeing her as if he could read her embarrassed thoughts. “Take your time, I’ll just be downstairs.”
Her hands shook as he departed the room, and as the door closed she collapsed into the chair. She lifted her head, her gaze meeting her own reflection. What was she doing? She should be in England, dancing and flirting with dukes and earls, instead of masquerading as a pirate in Spain. She had a duty to her family name, to the Townsend house in Boston, to Maxwell and everyone who worked for her. Not for the first time, she felt as if she were betraying her responsibility by getting swept up in the excitement of the lifestyle she had always craved. Books and bedtime stories were one thing, a way for her to escape, but actually living an adventure was thrilling and incredibly addictive.
The girl in the mirror stared back at her, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and paused, the ring catching her attention once more. She had been foolish to think that Logan was proposing to her, and yet, looking at the ring she could imagine spending the rest of her life with him, every day filled with adventure and passion and love.
Her heart skipped a beat. Love? Could that possibly be what she felt for him? Of course not; the man drove her insane and she loathed him.
But deep down she knew that she had moved beyond hating him long ago, probably when he rescued her from the men in Tortuga, or perhaps even before that. She couldn’t imagine living without him, and she couldn’t picture herself returning to her old life. She would do her job, they would capture Mendoza and she would deal with leaving Logan once they reached England. Until then she would love him in the only way she knew how.
Chapter Twenty-one
Pax stood upon Amber’s arrival in the room, his smile widening as he took in her appearance. “Mrs. Grant, you look ravishing this evening.” She accepted his offered arm, and the shawl he held out for her. “Logan said you might want this if it gets chilly out, and he also told me to tell you that you will do wonderfully, he trusts you implicitly, and that he is always in sight of you whether you can see him or not.” He leaned in closer. “He also wanted me to double check that you were armed, though I told him it was unnecessary as I’d be with you, but he insisted. Do you have your knife?”
“Strapped to my thigh. Let’s get going.”
“Did you lose weight? You look skinnier, not that I’m saying you looked anything other than skinny before, it’s just, you know. I’m going to shut up now.”
Amber laughed and playfully bumped her shoulder against his. “Are you nervous, Pax?”
“About taking Mendoza down? Not in the slightest. About taking a beautiful woman to dinner? Terrified.”
“You have nothing to worry about. You’ve already won me over, remember?” She raised her hand with the ring on it, showing it to him.
“Good lord, that’s much bigger than what I pictured when he said he’d bought you a band. I only got this little one,” he pouted, showing her the simple gold ring on his left hand. A small pebble flew forward and hit Pax on the head. Amber looked around for the thrower but saw no one, while Pax just rubbed the sore spot on his brow and urged her forward. “Can’t say I agree with his methods of communication, but he has a point. Mendoza’s inn is still a ten minute walk and we want to get there before they stop serving dinner to ensure that he’s there when we arrive.”
“How is this going to work? Are we an American couple?”
“Well, I’m playing the Irish trader, and you will be my blushing bride, fresh from the colonies.” Amber stopped dead as she listened in disbelief to Pax’s impeccable Irish accent. “Come on, we have to hurry.” He tugged at her arm, and she came dragging her feet.
“You aren’t from the colonies, are you?” she asked him with suspicion.
“Does it matter?” He met her hard gaze. “No, I’m not American, I’m originally from Ireland, but I moved to England when I was a child. I can talk like this, if it makes you feel any better,” he said, switching to a British accent.
She shook her head. “Hold on a moment, how many of you have adopted fake accents?”
Pax shrugged. “Most of us, I would assume. Well, that’s not entirely true, but at least half. The newer members of the crew are probably all from the colonies.”
“Where is everyone else from?”
“Eli I’m pretty sure is British, Anton is from Morocco, and Deacon is Irish, but I’m not certain about the others. You’d have to ask them yourself.”
Amber glanced around. “What about Logan?”
“The men seem to think he’s British, but I couldn’t tell you one way of the other,” he admitted, dropping his voice. “None of us are sure where he came from, or whether he has any family to speak of. But we can’t talk about it anymore; it isn’t safe to mention his name. Besides, we’re here.”
Amber lifted her head to take in the sight of the inn, very similar to her own but larger and more impressive. It also apparently boasted a higher form of entertainment than hers, for the voices being carried int
o the street indicated the presence of a large crowd. Wishing all of a sudden to see Logan before she entered, she swiveled her head around but did not see him. “Stop looking about; we don’t want people to go searching for him,” Pax whispered in her ear. She nodded and followed him into the Maravilla Inn.
Concealing a grimace as Pax slid an arm around her waist she forced a smile and let him lead her to a table in the center of the room, where they were certain to be noticed. “I apologize now for how obnoxious I’m about to be,” he muttered as he seated her, and then straightened himself up. “Perdón,” he shouted with terrible Spanish articulation, “some drinks and dinner for me and my beautiful wife. And fast!”
The room went quiet as every pair of eyes turned to stare at the brash Irishman who had no concept of propriety, and at the woman sitting beside him with an embarrassed expression. A serving girl dropped two flagons of ale in front of them and offered them an option of red bean stew with chorizo and ham, or fish in salsa verde. Amber opened her mouth to ask for the stew when Pax interrupted her. “I will have the bean stew and my wife will take the fish.” He smirked at the Spanish girl. “She was having trouble fitting into her dress this evening.”
He waited until she had sauntered away before whispering to Amber, “Feel free to act angry with me.”
“Who’s acting?” she grumbled into her drink. His hand moved to cover the mouth of the mug, lowering it to the table. He pulled it towards himself.
“Sorry.”
“Remind me again what my role is in this whole endeavor? Or are you to do everything, while I simply sit here and become further agitated?”
“Your goal tonight is to capture the attention of one man, and you have successfully accomplished that. The die has been cast.”
“Mendoza is here?”
“He is seated at a table to your right. No, don’t look now; it will be obvious we have been talking about him. Wait,” he commanded before polishing off both of their mugs of ale. He winked at her and then stumbled to his feet, waving the empty flagon about. “I’m still thirsty! Don’t you Spaniards have anything stronger? You know, tequila, gin?” He staggered over to a table, empty except for one man.
“What are you drinking?” he demanded of the dark Spaniard, who eyed him coldly.
“Orujo.”
“Orujo, eh? Sounds strong.” He raised a hand with a smile and hailed down the serving girl. “I’ll have what he’s having, and make it two glasses.”
Mendoza lip curled, drawing her attention to the large ragged scar that bisected his left cheek. “I like your style, Irishman. Come, sit down,” he offered in heavily accented English.
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to keep the missus company while she eats.”
“Is that your wife over there? She is quite beautiful.” Amber dropped her eyes to the table to avoid Mendoza’s piercing gaze.
“Aye, isn’t she? Just picked her up on my last trip to the colonies,” Pax boasted. “Looking at her you’d think she was Irish born, but believe it or not the lass is from Connecticut. Her father was all too happy to get rid of her and I didn’t hesitate to take him up on his offer. I mean,” he slurred as he stood, “look at her.”
Amber glanced up to see that Mendoza was indeed looking at her, his dark brown eyes boring a hole into her skin. She looked away again, just as the serving girl brought them their food. Pax excused himself from his new friend and returned to the table, grabbing his spoon and diving right into his stew. “You certainly play the part well,” she whispered as she picked at her meal with a fork, wondering what type of fish it was and why it smelled so foul. Her stomach was already in knots from the corset and Mendoza’s stare, so she gave up any hope of eating.
“As do you, my dear wife. One would believe you were about to strangle me, with that poisonous look you’re giving me. Don’t try to change it, that is the plan,” he reminded her. “We want Mendoza to think you are fed up with your marriage, so that when you return alone tomorrow night he will target you.”
“You’re not coming back with me?”
He shook his head as he shoveled another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “He won’t approach you if I’m around.”
“What happens after I have him alone?”
“It will all be explained later,” he mumbled as he used his bread to soak up the rest of the broth. He apologized to her again as he reached across and dragged her plate towards himself and began to eat that as well. “Now look up and meet his gaze, blink coyly or whatever it is that you do and then look away.” She did, unnerved to see that his eyes were focused her still figure at the table. He gave her a slight nod before she turned away. Pax finished Amber’s meal and stood, throwing several coins onto the table.
“Enjoy your Orujo,” he called back to Mendoza genially, his hand sliding to cup Amber’s bottom. “I’m going to enjoy my woman.”
She waited until they were several streets away before reeling back and slapping Pax. His hand flew up to rub his stinging cheek. “What was that for? I thought he told you the plan!”
“He never told me you would take advantage of my position as your wife to publicly grope me,” she said, hearing Logan’s distinct laugh somewhere behind her. “Don’t think you aren’t in trouble too, mister. I expect to be filled in completely when we get back to the room.”
Pax scowled as he led her down the winding streets. “This is why I’m never getting married.”
“You’re not getting married because no woman in her right mind would have you.” Feeling bad, she apologized as they neared the inn. “I was just taken off guard,” she explained. “How’s your cheek?”
“Could be worse, at least you didn’t break my nose again,” he said with a chuckle. They were in better moods as they finished the journey and he walked her to her room. “How about a goodnight kiss?”
She rolled her eyes, her hand already pushing open the door. “Sleep well, dear husband.” She shut the door in his face and turned to Logan. “You.”
“Me?”
“Tell me what this plan entails, so I don’t have any more unpleasant surprises.”
He rose from the bed and motioned for her to turn around. “I needed you surprised tonight. If you had anticipated Pax’s actions you would not have been able to react to them as spectacularly as you did. Now Mendoza, and everyone else who saw the way he treated you, believes you to be the stunning, quiet wife of an outspoken drunken Irishman. The shock on your face when he grabbed you proved to Mendoza that you despise your husband, and he will be sure to make a move tomorrow night when you are alone. Now raise your arms,” he instructed, lifting the dress up and over her head and dropping it onto a chair. With quick movements he went to work on her stays, chuckling as she inhaled deeply once the restrictive garment was loosened.
“Good lord, that was awful. And I’m starving.”
“I anticipated that, so I had the maid fix you a light meal. She should be back soon with something to get you through the night. His hand moved to caress her cheek. “You were incredible this evening, and you looked radiant.”
“Where were you standing?” she inquired as his nimble fingers went to work on the clasp of the emerald necklace. The heavy piece of jewelry dropped into his hand.
He gestured for her to remove the earrings as well. “Sorry, the fewer people know where I am the better. I don’t want you looking around for me. I was planning on letting you keep the ring on tonight to let you get more comfortable wearing it, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know if you were conscious of it, but you were fidgeting with it all evening. It looked very convincing.”
She wordlessly slid the ring from her finger and dropped it into his palm, then walked over to the small basin to splash some water on her flushed face. Logan set the small table with the food the maid delivered, and she joined him there. “What exactly is the plan for tomorrow?” she asked, holding out a hunk of cheese.
He shook his head. “Tomorrow evening you will return to the Maravil
la Inn alone and order dinner. Mendoza will approach you, and you will accept his proposal to join you and drink everything he puts in front on you, which, from what the men have observed, will be a lot of alcohol. You may not have seen him tonight, but Deacon has acquired a job as the bartender, and will be watering down all of your drinks.”
“Thank goodness for that,” she laughed, recalling her last experience with too much alcohol.
“Yes, well, we’ve seen what happens, and we are trying to avoid it. Not that throwing yourself at Mendoza wouldn’t be the perfect way to obtain information, but you’d regret it in the morning. Besides,” he said as he stood and held out his hand for her to join him on the edge of the bed, “you’re mine.”
She tried to ignore his hand cradling her head as he began kissing her neck. “Logan, what happens after he thinks I’m drunk?” He mumbled something into her shoulder and she laughed, pulling backwards so that she could see his face. “The sooner we get through the boring information, the sooner we can move on to more important things,” she told him.
“Lets save the talking for later. Though you looked delectable in the dress tonight, I much prefer you with all of your curves,” he said, hunger in his eyes as he reached for her again. She stood.
“How about for every vital piece of information you give me I remove one piece of clothing?”
“You aren’t wearing that much,” he noted, staring at her chemise.
“But you still are.”
His eyes widened. “You have a deal. Once Mendoza thinks you’re drunk he’ll invite you back to his room. You will say no, you shouldn’t.” She knelt before him and tugged off his boots.
“And then?”
“He will buy you another drink, and flirt some more. He will tell you that you are beautiful and that your husband doesn’t treat you well.” She pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor. “This will seem to sway you and when he asks you to come up again, you agree.” She removed her own shoes. “When you get there, he will offer you yet another drink. You will only pretend to drink yours, and when he is distracted you will slip some herbs into his.”