Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (31 page)

“No one need know you’re a pirate,” Miranda said when they were lying cuddled together. “I won’t say anything, and I’m certain Papa won’t. You could stay in Charles Town.”

“Miranda, I—”

“I know de Segovia murdered your family, and I’m sorry; but it will do no good for you to kill him... or possibly die yourself.” Miranda was close to tears, and she struggled to hold them back. Everything about her reaction to the pirate was unreasonable and irrational and totally foolish, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And she was very close to begging him to stay with her.

“I don’t want this night to end either,” Jack whispered against her temple. “But it must. The Spanish did more than kill my parents and take me prisoner twelve years ago.” Jack let out his breath. “They also took my sister. I saw them carry her off.”

Jack scooted up and bolstered pillows behind his head. Miranda settled against him. “I never saw Elspeth after that.”

“But Jack,” Miranda hesitated, “she could be dead by now... could have died as soon as she was taken.”

“No. I heard of her once, while I was still in St. Augustine. De Segovia, or someone, must have taken her with him when he went back to Spain.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I’ve been back to St. Augustine.” Jack hesitated. “After I became captain of the
Sea Hawk
, we raided the Spanish stronghold. Elspeth was no longer there... nor was de Segovia.”

“But now he’s back in the New World?”

“Aye.” Jack’s fist clenched, and he rubbed his knuckles along Miranda’s jaw line. “Now he’s back.”

He wasn’t rational where de Segovia and his sister were concerned, Miranda thought as she lay against her husband, listening to the strong beat of his heart, and she decided she could hardly blame him. However, few things were ever solved without rational thought.

Miranda was good at it, and she’d done nothing but think since Jack fell asleep. She sighed, wishing she could work through this problem. Actually, she had two of them. She didn’t want anything to happen to Jack when he recklessly went after de Segovia. And she didn’t want to be separated from him. Unreasonable as it was, Miranda wanted to be with her husband—tonight had made her realize how much.

But though he’d kissed her sweetly when she’d told him, he’d made no promises. He was a pirate, after all, he’d mumbled before shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

He snored softly, and Miranda turned her head to glance at him. Stubble, darker than his hair, shadowed his lower face. He didn’t seem so fierce in slumber, though there was still a wildness about him.

A wildness she loved.

Dawn pearled the room when Jack jerked awake. God’s blood, the
Sea Hawk
was sailing with the morning tide, and here he lay, sprawled on a tousled bed. His first impulse was to leap to his feet, but then he noticed the warmth at his side.

Twisting around, Jack bent to wake Miranda with a kiss... and discovered she was already staring at him. “I have to go,” he murmured, wishing he didn’t.

“I know.” Miranda smiled, then sat up. The sheet pooled at her waist, but she didn’t notice that or the fact that her shoulder bumped Jack’s jaw as he tried to kiss it. “You probably should leave.”

“Leave?” What happened to his soft, sweet lover of last night? The woman who didn’t want him to go? “Aye. Well, I imagine Phin will be wondering what’s become of me.”

“Yes.” Miranda brushed her hair aside. “Your breeches are over there.”

“My breeches.” Jack stared to where she pointed at the rumpled pile of clothes. The way she was acting it was hard to imagine they’d torn them off each other last night in a fit of passion. He looked back at her, trying to ignore the way her breasts shone creamy white in the morning light.

She bounded from bed, and Jack groaned as he watched her bend over and toss his shirt to him. Perhaps he had time to tarry a little bit. The idea of jumping up and grabbing her rounded hips from behind and burying himself deep inside her had a great deal of appeal.

But she seemed in no mood. Before Jack could swing his legs over the bed, she’d shimmied into her shift. While he stood staring, his mouth hanging open, she stepped into a simple gown and reached back, struggling to fasten it.

Her eyes lifted, raking his naked form, and finally catching his gaze. Her mouth went dry, and her pulse quickened. But this was no time for sensual thoughts, though from the look of his swollen manhood, her husband didn’t agree. Miranda resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms.

She had other things to do.

“Aren’t you... ?” Miranda paused and tried to speak again. Her voice was so husky. “Aren’t you going to dress?”

God’s blood, she was a cold wench this morning. He’d never had anyone so anxious to be rid of him. Well, he could act as if last night didn’t happen the same as she could. Jack yanked on his breeches, swearing to himself when they rubbed against his straining staff.

His shirt was wrinkled and missing several buttons, but he didn’t care as he stuffed the tail in his breeches. Miranda was busy brushing her hair, completely ignoring him, and Jack wished he could do the same.

What had come over her? Did she remember in the light of day that he was a pirate and not fit for the likes of her? Or was she just too busy with other things to give him a second notice? As he watched, she pulled several books from a cabinet. Was she going to start reading before he even left?

He hurriedly stamped into his boots, ramming his arms into the silk jacket at the same time. “There’s no need to see me out,” Jack said, more to gain her attention than anything else. She was dipping a quill into an ink bottle.

“Oh.” Miranda glanced up. “All right.” Her smile was distracted.

“All right? That’s it?” Jack dug his fingers through his tangled hair. “After what we did last night, ‘tis all you have to say?”

Miranda looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “What do you wish me to say?”

“What do I...?” He was sputtering. The damn wench had him sputtering. What in the hell had he been thinking last night? Had he actually started wondering if he was falling in love with her? With Miranda Chadwick? No, not Chadwick, Blackstone. She was Miranda Blackstone. But for all the attention she paid him this morning, he might as well be married to a book... a question-asking book.

After strapping on his sword, Jack reached for the doorknob. She didn’t glance up till he yanked the portal open.

“Jack.”

“Aye?” Jack cursed the excitement that shot through him when she said his name.

“Good luck on your voyage.” By the time she finished the words her shining head was bent over the parchment.

Jack’s hands fisted. He turned on his heel and slammed out of the room, angrier than he’d ever been with a woman. He clomped down the stairs, cursing his wife, himself and marriage in general. When he reached the landing and caught sight of the hallway below, he added his father-in-law to the list.

Meanwhile, Miranda chewed on her thumbnail and stared at the parchment. She’d written one word—
Papa
—on the paper. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to think of the best way to say what she must. Finally she settled on,
My place is with him
.

“Dammit, Henry, what are you doing skulking around the hallway this time of the morning?”

“I should think that is obvious. I’m waiting for you. I’ve waited for you all night.”

“Well, you’ve wasted your time.” Jack skirted around him. “I have to get to the ship.”

“I don’t care about your damn ship. We need to talk
now
.”

Few people could have grabbed Jack the way Henry did and lived to tell of it. As it, was, Jack’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He forced himself to remember the years of friendship that bound them. His voice bore the same steely strength as the blade hanging at his side. “I’m sailing with the morning tide.”

“You owe me—”

Jack shrugged off Henry’s hold. “I owe you nothing. All debts were paid yesterday.”

“Then, what was last night about?”

Jack turned his face away, unable to meet the entreaty in the older man’s eyes. “What do you think?”

“Oh, Jack, how could you do this?” Henry wrung his hands and walked, slump-shouldered, into the parlor. “I trusted you.”

“What the hell.” Reluctantly Jack followed. “I married her, didn’t I? It’s not as if we—”

“But bedding her was never part of the agreement.”

“Bedding her was the reason for the agreement,” Jack pointed out. He was trying to stay calm, trying to see Henry’s side of this. But truth be known, he was getting damn tired of seeing Henry’s side. It was seeing Henry’s side that got him into this mess in the first place.

“I’ll not have you speaking of my daughter like that.”

Jack looked heavenward, resisting the impulse to remind him that Henry’s daughter was his wife. “Listen,” he said, his hands lifted in appeasement. “Miranda is fine.” Jack didn’t mention that apparently he’d been more affected by their night of lovemaking than she.

“Fine? How can you say that? The poor child is no doubt devastated. This was
never
part of the agreement.” Henry paced to the fireplace. “It was to be a marriage in name only.”

“Well, now it’s a marriage in every sense of the word.” Jack’s hands balled at his waist. “And for the last time Miranda is not devastated.” He thought of her sitting at her desk, barely bothering to nod his way when he left. And after all they’d touched and loved last night. His jaw clenched, and he turned to face Henry.

It was just the move Miranda was waiting for. On tiptoe she scrambled past the parlor door.

Carefully she lifted the latch and hurried onto the piazza. The sun was tinting the sky a soft rose when she scurried onto the street.

Her arms strained with the heavy load she carried, but Miranda didn’t stop to rest. She headed straight for the dock. She couldn’t be sure how long her father would keep Jack occupied. Her new husband had sounded increasingly impatient with her father’s rantings.

Thoughts of her papa brought tears to her eyes, but Miranda blinked them away. He’d understand. He’d have to. How many times had he said he wished he’d brought Miranda and her mother with him when he came to the New World? “A husband and wife aren’t meant to be separated,” he said, while lamenting his wife’s death before he could send for her.

Miranda was simply assuring that she and her own husband didn’t suffer the same fate. Not that she expected to die. She felt wonderful, and was rarely ill. But Jack was much too rash and impetuous. Lying in bed last night after he’d drifted off to sleep, Miranda had thought about all the things he might do, and she’d decided he needed her with him, to help him.

Unfortunately, she didn’t think he’d see things the same way. He could be so stubborn.

She just had to be smarter.

But she knew Jack was going to be angry when he found out. And she dreaded his temper. Miranda tried to bite on her thumbnail, but the motion knocked her parcel of heavy books and boxes against her leg. “God’s blood,” she mumbled, and hobbled onto the wooden wharf.

Even this early in the morning, there was plenty of activity: sailors hoisting barrels on their shoulders and quartermasters yelling orders.

Miranda recognized the
Sea Hawk
, and rushed toward it.

“Yer ladyship.” Phin came bounding off the gangplank. “If yer here to see the cap’n off, well, er... he ain’t up yet.” Not for anything would Phin tell the captain’s new wife that her husband hadn’t come back to the ship last night. Phin had thought maybe his captain had gotten good sense and stayed with his bride. Her presence here, alone, proved that false.

“I’m not looking for Captain Blackstone. Phin, could you possibly carry this?” Miranda handed her bundle to the surprised pirate and, lifting her skirts, stepped onto the gangplank. He followed her across onto the
Sea Hawk’s
deck.

“Yer ladyship,” Phin scratched at his beard after Miranda took her belongings back. “I ain’t sure what yer doin’ here, but—”

“I want you to hide me. I’d thought the hold might be a good place, but you, of course, would know better than I.”