“Captain, how is your arm?”
The lovely passenger he’d rescued from the sea walked up the steps to the quarterdeck. Alone.
He frowned. “You must never walk about this deck unescorted, milady. I thought I made that clear.” He looked into her questioning gaze and couldn’t maintain his stern expression.
Travay cocked her chin. “I couldn’t stand it below deck another minute.” She turned and gazed across the rippling waves, painted pink and purple by the setting sun. She leaned against the rail near him.
He tried to ignore the lovely contours of her face and the waves of hair, pinned up with tendrils escaping and blowing in the evening breeze.
“You really must return to your cabin, milady.” He forced his voice to sound firm when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.
And why not? She has come to you in this one private spot on the ship.
The thought came out of nowhere. Lucas shook his head, but he couldn’t tear his attention from her as she looked up at him from under dark, silky lashes.
“And what if I refuse?”
Warmth and surprise spread through him. Was she a vixen like Seema?
“Then I’ll just have to escort you.” He reached for her elbow with his good arm, but she slipped from his grasp. As she did, she stumbled. He caught her around the waist, and she fell against him. A curl brushed against his cheek, and he breathed in her lilac scent. He groaned. The softness of her form against his chest was more than any man could resist. At least he told himself this as he turned her around to face him. He lifted her chin with his thumb and saw again the spattering of freckles and the sapphire eyes that could drown a man. He heard her intake of breath. Her thick lashes fluttered down. Her lips trembled. He bent and gently brushed them with his own. For a moment she went limp, then turned stiff as an oar.
“How dare you—you pirate!” She moved to slap him, but he caught her wrist. She stomped his foot instead and escaped from his grasp. She ran back the way she had come, her skirts flying behind her.
He strode to the end of the deck to make sure she went down the steps toward the cabin, then went back to the rail and shook his head in disbelief. Shock rolled over him for far more than the kiss still burning his lips. Her freckles had been the first thing to jar his memory, then the clear blue eyes and quick temper. The stomping of his foot finally left no doubt of who she was. Only God in heaven could have thought of bringing her back into his life. Was it just chance or coincidence he happened to be below fishing when she jumped off a cliff in Jamaica? Reverend Wentworth would say that when we are a part of his family, God has a part in anything we consider a coincidence.
CHAPTER 5
How could he ever forget the favorite punishment of his childhood playmate—the love of his boyish heart and enemy of his sanity? She had stomped his foot many times.
A long scar on his back burned as assurance of her identity. He closed his eyes and was immediately back in Charles Town, the fourteen-year-old son of indentured parents.
Eight-year-old Travay Allston had plucked at his sleeve in the stable entrance. “Lucas, please, please do saddle up Miss Rosey. Mr. Poole won’t mind. He knows I miss her since he bought her from us.” She flipped her dark, gold-splashed braids behind her shoulder.
“Go on, little miss. He would have my hide if anything happened to that filly.”
“You know nothing will happen. I used to ride her. She does fine with me. Please, Lucas.”
She turned startling blue eyes up to him and pursed her lips into a rosebud. She knew how to get to him. For the three years, he and his parents had served as indentured servants on the Pooles’ plantation, which sat next to the Allston estate, Lucas had not been able to deny the lovely child anything she wanted. He often suffered punishment for his weakness. Neither the Poole nor the Allston families approved of the friendship between him and Travay, and it always cost him.
He groaned, remembering the fateful ride and the jumping accident. The filly had to be put down. And Lucas had taken the worst beating of his life from old Sir Poole, with young Roger Poole smiling as he leaned against the barn, watching. That was the worst beating until his galley slave days.
Lucas stretched his shoulders to relieve the stinging on his back. One of those scars was from Poole’s beating for giving in to Travay Allston. She always spelled trouble.
Travay rushed toward the steps down to the cabin, then passed them, blinking away tears of frustration. Or was she in shock? She didn’t know what to call it, but she couldn’t breathe, and her legs felt wobbly. She certainly didn’t want to face Mama Penn like this. How could she let a low-down pirate kiss her? She stopped at the rail and clasped it for support, hoping the strong lapping of the waves against the side of the ship would slow her heart. The startling kiss still tingled across her lips. She took a moment to catch her breath and compose her thoughts.
“I hope milady fares well today.”
Travay whirled around. First mate Byron Pitt stood before her in the spotless attire of a gentleman. The sides of his blond hair, pulled into a queue, glistened as if oiled. He swept off his three-cornered hat and bowed. A strong, fruity scent, reminiscent of slightly spoiled fruit, wafted across the sea breeze. The man had overdone his perfume.
“I am well, thank you.”
His dark brown eyes searched hers. “Are you sure, milady?”
He must have seen the kiss. Warmth flooded her cheeks.
Pitt frowned and replaced his hat. “I feel I must warn you, and every other lady he comes in contact with. Our Captain Bloodstone is not a gentleman. Actually, he is no more than an escaped indentured servant and a lying, womanizing pirate.”
Travay cocked her chin. “And who exactly are you, Mr. Pitt?”
“I am the third son of Baron Von Heflin. But I have fallen on bad times, milady.”
“Really? And how did you end up on a pirate ship, pray tell?”
“That is a long story, milady, but one I would delight to share with you at some opportune time.” As the sun slipped below the horizon, he looked around and took a step closer. “May I escort you to your door perhaps?”
“No, Mr. Pitt, thank you.” Aware of the descending darkness, she started to go past him. Before she could move, he threw out a hand and blocked her way.
“May I say one more thing, milady?” He moved closer and spoke in a low voice. “If you ever have need of my services, my help in any way, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
His heavy breathing and the way he devoured her with his dark, unreadable eyes troubled Travay. “I’m sure there will be no need, Mr. Pitt.” Did he think she was in danger from the captain? Or should she be more wary of Mr. Pitt? She edged around him and hurried to her borrowed cabin.
When Sydney skipped up the quarterdeck steps the next day, Lucas turned from studying the choppy turquoise sea and smiled at the boy.
“Look, Cap’n Bloodstone. Seema dropped this when she was hurrying across the deck and I, well, I picked it up ’fore she knew she dropped it.” He held out a small leather coin purse. “I think she musta taken it off our leddy guest.”
Lucas fingered the small rawhide purse with its drawstring and nodded. Before he opened the neck, he knew he would find his initials scratched inside. He had made it for Travay for her eleventh birthday, just before he ran away from the Charles Town plantation.
“What you be thinking, Cap’n?” Sydney’s voice drew him back to the present.
“I think you’re right, lad. This probably came from our guest. Thank you for bringing it to me.”
The boy started away, but Lucas called after him. “Sydney, this was empty when you found it, correct?”
“Oh, yessir! I would never take nothing from a leddy like our guest.”
Lucas nodded. “Find Seema and send her to me, will you, lad?’
“Yessir, Cap’n.” And off he went.
Seema appeared on the quarterdeck a few minutes later. She smiled and swung her hips as she
came toward Lucas. She was an attractive woman with a sun-kissed complexion, shiny black hair around her shoulders, and the fire of her Spanish blood evident in her manner. At Mama Penn’s insistence, he had bought her off the slave block in Kingston. He had come to regret it when she made bold plays toward him, and to at least one other crew member—first mate Byron Pitt. Lucas had threatened to leave her in Kingston.
He had to admit, in one way it was good she was considered Pitt’s girl now. He didn’t have to worry about the rest of the crew bothering her. If he could just get her to Charles Town and to Reverend and Mrs. Wentworth’s household, with God’s help, those two would straighten her out. Like they had him.
“You sent for me, Capitan Bloodstone?” Her dark eyes flashed a welcome, and her full lips stretched into a warm smile.
“Seema, where did you get this?” Lucas pulled the coin purse from the folds of his shirt.
Her face paled. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never seen it before.”
“Don’t lie to me, Seema. I happen to know you took it from our lady guest. My question is, did you take anything else?”
Seema’s hand flew to a locket around her neck.
“Let me have the locket. I won’t ask for the coins you’ve kept, but I must have the jewelry.”
She untied the ribbon and threw the ornament at him. “I don’t see why you took that uppity one on board. She is going to be nothing but trouble.”
“No more than you are, I expect.” Lucas dismissed her, and she sashayed away, but not before she gave him one long look under her thick, dark lashes.
Lucas opened the familiar golden adornment with its secret catch. He found exactly what he expected: a miniature of Travay’s mother.
That evening after supper, Lucas paced the top deck, trying to decide when and how to show the purse and locket to Travay, as well as the pearl knife found on her person when he rescued her. These personal possessions of hers could bring back her memory. Then perhaps she could tell him what had happened to her in Kingston. But how would she feel when she discovered who he really was—and what he had become?
Wonderful kiss or not, nothing could ever work out between them. They had always moved in different worlds, and now those worlds were even farther apart.
His brows set in a straight line, Lucas left the quarterdeck and descended to Travay’s cabin. What had she been doing in Jamaica, and from whom was she fleeing? He needed to know. He knocked on the bolted entrance and waited.
Mama Penn opened the door. Lucas cast a quick look around—Seema was not present. Good. Travay sat on his bed with one of his books open before her. A ray of the setting sun through the porthole crowned her in golden light. His heart thudded against his ribs.
When Travay looked up and saw him, she ducked her head and closed the book.
“I need to talk to you, Tr—milady.” Lucas pulled out a chair and faced her. Mama Penn headed toward the door, but Lucas stopped her. “No, you stay, Mama Penn. You can hear anything that’s said.” And make sure I keep my distance from this most lovely woman.
Lucas glanced at the volume Travay still held in her lap. He smiled to put her at her ease. “What were you reading?”
A tremor started up Travay’s back, and warmth rose in her cheeks. Was it because she remembered the wonderful way his lips had touched hers the evening before, or was it for the serious expression on the captain’s face? Maybe it was because of the dynamic vitality he exuded. She turned to the woman. “Yes, please do stay, Mama Penn.” Her voice sounded stilted even to herself.
Mama Penn sat in a chair in the corner, as far away from the two of them as she could get in the small quarters, and folded her arms across her ample bosom.
Travay held up the book so Lucas could read the title, The Reasonableness of Christianity. Whatever did the captain have to say? Surely he had not come to see what she was reading. “It is by someone named John Locke.”
“Yes, a minister friend of mine loaned it to me. Have you ever heard of Locke?”
Travay laid the book on the bed beside her. “I can’t say that I have, or at least I don’t remember.” She met the captain’s glance and alarm darted through her. It couldn’t be apprehension she sensed in his demeanor. Not this man who roamed the seas as the infamous Captain Bloodstone.
He drew a deep breath before he responded. “I have something I want to show you, milady.” He pulled a small leather purse, a pearl-handled knife, and a gold locket from his sash. He laid them on the table one at a time. “Do these belong to you?”
Travay touched the handle of the knife. She picked up the small bag and stared at the locket. Her heart jumped in her chest so hard it pained her. She swallowed. “Yes, yes, I believe they are mine. Where did you find them?”
“Does that really matter? I am hoping they will trigger your memory. Do they?”
“Yes, things are coming back now. The knife was given to me by my father when I turned twelve. This little purse was made for me by a childhood friend, and this locket—” She clutched it to her heart, and her face crumpled. “Oh, my God, my mother, my sweet mother. She is gone, is she not?” Tears pooled in her eyes and flowed down her face. She looked first at the captain, then at Mama Penn.
Lucas leaned forward. The concern on his face softened his strong profile. Mama Penn stirred in her chair. “Lord Jesus, we need your help,” she whispered.
Travay fell back on the bed. The blood drained from her face. She bit her fist as memories flooded back: her father’s death, then her mother’s remarriage and death after her stepfather moved them to Jamaica; her stepfather gambling away the plantation—and her hand in marriage. She remembered how she fled the house on Arundel, followed by Sir Roger, and how she’d had no choice but to make the terrible jump over the cliff and into the Caribbean. She sat up and uttered a dreadful cry.
Lucas lunged toward her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest as hoarse sobs racked her body. Something deep inside him exploded and shipwrecked all his arguments against involvement with her. He couldn’t trust himself to murmur a single comforting word. His arms tightened around Travay. What had brought that alarming cry from deep within her? What memory—or what person?
Slowly the sobs subsided. Travay hiccupped and lifted her tear-stained face from Lucas’ shoulder. She looked up at him from under thick, wet lashes, and it was all he could do not to press his mouth to her trembling lips. He released her, and she sat on the bunk.
Mama Penn came and helped Travay lie down. She pulled a blanket over the trembling form. “She’s gonna be all right now, Cap’n. You’ll see. I’ll take good care of this little lady. Don’t you go worrying none.”
Lucas stumbled away, his mind swirling like a hurricane. His deepest desire was to tell the young woman on the bunk that he had loved her since their childhood days and wanted to take care of her the rest of her life.
Travay’s weak voice arrested him at the door. “My name is Travay Allston. I have an aunt in Charles Town. Please help me get to her.”
“By all means, Miss Allston.” His throat felt raw from the effort it took to keep his voice steady.
He entered his borrowed cabin and kicked the door shut, trying to rip from his heart the powerful feelings Travay had reawakened. How could he let his thoughts, his emotions, get so out of hand? He had nothing to offer her. Besides, when she discovered who he was and what he had become, she would surely hate him. He felt like smashing something. Instead, he sat down, and soon a strange peace came over him. Was Ethan Wentworth praying for him? He hoped so.
There were still questions he wanted Travay to answer. What had happened in Jamaica? He shook his braids and frowned. Maybe he should forget the questions, avoid her, and just deliver her to her aunt in Charles Town. And maybe she’d never discover who he was and be shocked at the privateer he’d become. Although he was a Charles Town merchant when not at sea, to her he would be nothing more than a pirate.
Travay slept long
and hard for almost two days and nights, hardly eating anything Mama Penn tried to tempt her with whenever she awoke. But a morning arrived when she sat up and asked Mama Penn, “Do you believe there is a God? I don’t.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and her back straightened. “I sho do, Miss Travay. How cum you say such a wicked thing?”
Travay ducked her head. She knew exactly what she could answer, but she didn’t want to further shock the good-natured servant. How could God have allowed all the bad things that had happened to her, that had left her without loving parents and made her dependent on a wicked stepfather? Only by a desperate act had she been saved from a disgusting forced marriage. She shut the chilling memory of the cliff from her mind and arose from the bed. Weakness washed over her, and she wobbled.
Mama Penn grabbed her elbow. “Now, lit’l lady, you gotta take it slow after the shock you’ve been through, sleeping the days away and not eating ’nuff for a sparrow.”
The memory of the captain’s strong arms holding her flashed into Travay’s mind and sent a tingle all the way to her toes. Did he have compassion? But what man could have a sprinkle of compassion and still be a pirate? It was most likely lust, not empathy. She tried to force him from her thoughts, but somehow he stayed at the edge of her mind.
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