Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (36 page)

“I shall think on it,” Jack assured her, before settling back in the chair. “Now, may we continue with the lessons?”

Miranda cast him a sideways glance. “You’re considering taking me along?”

“I said only that I’d think on it,” Jack hedged. “How would I inquire of the whereabouts of a young woman in Spanish?”

Miranda told him, but she didn’t believe for one moment that he was honestly contemplating taking her with him. If she knew anything of the pirate, he was not one to change his mind so quickly.

She listened as he stumbled through another Spanish phrase and made up her mind. Regardless of what she had to do, she was going ashore with him

The 
Sea Hawk
dropped anchor late in the afternoon in a secluded cove on the east bank of Anastasia Island, across the bay from St. Augustine. After trimming the sails, most of the crew lazed on deck, drinking or snoozing, or grumbling to each other about the heat. Thinking of the coming events, though none would admit it.

Below decks, his full length stretched out upon the bunk, Jack’s thoughts drifted in the same direction. If Nafkebee’s information was correct, by tomorrow the blood of Jack’s parents would be avenged. Unbidden, the scene of horror at Port Royal invaded his mind, and he shuddered.

“ ‘Tis something wrong?” Miranda shifted, swiping hair from her face and elbowing herself up beside him.

Jack rolled his head to glance at his wife. She looked thoroughly debauched and seduced, her raven curls tumbling down across her bare shoulders and her eyes glazed with passion.

A fissure of guilt snaked through him.

Not that he didn’t find the sight of her delectable. Not that, though he’d made love to her twice already, the feel of her soft breast swelling against his shoulder didn’t cause stirrings in his groin. Not that touching her, tasting her, being one with her, wasn’t starting to become as important to him as breathing.

But all that aside, he was in his cabin for a reason. And that reason was deceit.

And blast his worthless, pirate hide, he didn’t like deceiving her. Even knowing it was for her own good, he didn’t like it.

“Nay.” Jack realized Miranda watched him, her intelligent eyes searching his face, and he reached up, touching her cheek to reassure... to distract.

“You are so beautiful,” he said and shut his eyes against the bitter taste the words left. Not because he didn’t find her beautiful, but because he knew why he said it.

Miranda’s lips brushed his in a fleeting kiss. “You’re beautiful, too.”

Jack slitted open one eye, amused despite himself. “This isn’t an attempt to persuade me to pose for you nude again, ‘tis it?”

“No.” Her sparkling laughter made him smile. “I think I will leave the drawing of nude men to others.”

“ ‘Tis an excellent idea. Though if I recall, the afternoon was not a complete waste.” His grin was lecherous as his hand skimmed down her body.

“Hmmm.” She appeared thoughtful, with her rounded chin resting in the cup of her palm. “That was the day you showed me there were other ways to—”

“Aye.” With Miranda he was never certain what she would say.

“You’re an excellent teacher,” she said, her eyes twinkling when his expression nearly beamed with pride. “I never would have guessed ‘twas possible to stand against the door and—”

Jack silenced his wife with a kiss. He’d made love to her pressed against the door, when he first came below. He’d caught her just as she was ready to leave the cabin to go on deck. And he couldn’t have her doing that.

The kiss left them both breathless and dazed, and Jack was thinking less of his plan and more of the woman he’d married when he lifted her to lie sprawling on top of him.

Her blue eyes met him, questioning at first, and then, they brightened. “ ‘Tis another way, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Miranda, yet another way.”

Her legs spread with only the slightest encouragement from him. If he was a good teacher, she was an excellent student. Jack was continually amazed and thrilled by his passionate wife.

His hands rode her hips, settling her on his swollen staff, and she arched back, accepting all of him. Her breasts tasted sweeter than honey as he raised his head to suckle them.

All thoughts save those of her deserted him as the passion mounted. She rode him well, her knees pressed into his sides. He caressed her stomach, then lower, using his fingers to send her soaring. And when she did, she took him along on the wild, untethered flight.

Pulling her down to him was instinctive, as was gathering her closely in his arms. It was only when she squirmed that Jack realized how tight was his hold. Relaxing his muscles, Jack lay her gently on the bunk beside him and pulled up the sheet to cover them.

Night shadows crept across the cabin, but Jack made no attempt to light a candle. Instead he murmured softly to her. “Sleep now. I know you’re tired.” After he’d done all he could to make her so.

Her sigh brought another pang of guilt. “Jack.” Her voice was thick with sleep. “Are you going to take me with you when you go ashore?” He’d hoped she wouldn’t ask, but knowing Miranda, he’d expected— and prepared— for the worst. “Aye,” he whispered. “Now sleep, for we depart first thing in the morn.”

She snuggled closer. “I’ll be able to help. You’ll see.”

Jack made no reply to that. He lay beside her, his body tense as he waited for the moon to appear through the transom windows. Then he carefully inched away from her and slid from the bunk. He soundlessly gathered his clothes, which like hers, lay in disarray on the floor. She made no move to awaken as he lifted the latch on the door.

Once in the passageway, Jack pulled on his breeches, then hurried toward the hatch and the crew that waited for him to lead them ashore. He’d lied to her... twice. She would not be going with them; he never intended she would. And they were leaving tonight, not with the dawn. It galled him, those lies, because he cared for her, cared for her deeply. Too deeply to allow de Segovia to harm her.

The first thing Miranda noticed when she awoke was that the space beside her in the narrow bunk was empty. Poor Jack, she thought. He’d seemed so nervous last night. It must have interfered with his sleep.

She took a moment to stretch, her hands clasped above her head; then she swung her legs over the side of the mattress to the floor. It was barely dawn, but she hurried with her toilette, brushing her hair and twisting it high on her head in coils. Lately, with just the pirates to see her, she’d taken to wearing her curls down, simply tied at her nape with a ribbon. But that wouldn’t do today. She wanted to appear like a fine Spanish lady.

The gown she chose was the best she’d brought with her, a silk mantua with a brocaded stomacher in a vivid shade of emerald green. After fastening the gown, wishing all the while Jack would come below to help her, Miranda added a lace fontange and mantilla, and decided she was ready.

It wasn’t until she was on deck that Miranda suspected something was amiss. True, the morning watch between four and eight bells was rarely busy on the pirate ship, but today should be different. Today the pirates planned to go ashore. Except, Miranda had a suspicion they were already there. She didn’t need to check the longboat’s cradle, but she did.

The boat was gone.

“There ye be, yer ladyship. Hope yer feelin’ more the thing.”

Miranda swirled around at the sound of Phin’s voice. “You’re still here?”

“Cap’n decided I should stay aboard seein’ how me shoulder ain’t completely healed.”

Miranda took a deep breath. “When did the rest of them leave?”

“Beginnin’ a mid-watch.”

Midnight. Jack had left the ship around midnight. Not long after they’d made love.

Miranda tried to keep her mind on the problem at hand, but his deceit kept clouding her logical thinking. He’d lied to her before, true enough. But she’d expected it then. She’d known he was a pirate who cared naught for her, so she’d understood, if not condoned, his deceptions.

But things were different now—at least she’d thought they were. Apparently the difference was in her mind alone.

Miranda fought back a feeling of sadness. “You mentioned something about my feeling better?”

“Aye. The cap’n said ye were under the weather and couldn’t go ashore. Said ye were upset by it and not to disturb ye.”

“I was.” Two could play this game of lying. “Last evening I felt faint, but today it’s gone. I’m fine—except...”

“ ‘Cept what? Ye ain’t ailin’, is ye?”

“Oh, no.” Though she knew she didn’t have a choice, Miranda disliked lying to Phin. Now Jack would be different. She wished he were here right now so that she could tell him all manner of untruths. “It’s just that I’m worried. If Jack gets caught, it will be my fault because I was ill and couldn’t go with him.”

“Don’t ye concern yerself ‘bout the cap’n. He can take care a hisself.”

“I know that’s usually the case. But he counted on me to translate for him and— Phin, do you suppose you could take me into town? Or just ashore? I would feel so much better if I were with him.”

It wasn’t easy convincing Phin that he should take her. But as she rapped on the plank door, Miranda decided it hadn’t been exactly difficult either. She knocked again, harder this time, and thought she heard someone scurrying about inside.

While Miranda waited, she glanced about. The street was narrow, and she felt the need to flatten herself against the walls of coquina rock when a donkey pulled cart rumbled by. She swatted at the dust thrown up by the wheels and pounded on the door this time.

Overhead she heard commotion and saw Venetian shutters open and then a head pop out the second-story window. “Who is it? I am in the middle of an experiment, and I don’t—Holy Mother, is that you, Miranda?”

 
“Si
, Don Luis.” Miranda backed into the street and squinted up, smiling at her friend’s surprised expression. It had only taken a few inquiries in the town to find Don Luis’ abode.

“But... but, what are you doing here in St. Augustine? Where is your
padre
?”

“ ‘Tis a rather long story. Do you suppose I can come inside?” Another wagon was heading her way, so Miranda stepped closer to the house.

“Of course. Oh, my dear. Wait right there. I shall be down to let you in.”

By the time Don Luis threw open the door, he’d donned a silk jacket and his curled wig—he’d been in shirtsleeves and bald-headed when he’d spoken to her through the window. He grabbed Miranda’s arm, then glanced up and down the dusty street. “You are alone?”

“Yes. Sort of.” She’d left Phin by the quay, promising to return soon.

“Come in out of the sun. I do believe it shines brighter here than in Madrid. Come. Come.” He led her into a large, cluttered room that opened onto a courtyard resplendent with tropical blooms.

“Now,” Don Luis began, after clearing books off a chair and seating his guest. “Tell me everything that has happened to bring you here.” He handed her a glass of wine.

Miranda took a deep breath. “Perhaps you should also be seated,” she said in the Spanish she’d used since setting foot in St. Augustine. She began her tale, stopping frequently to respond to Don Luis’ questions.

“The pirate abducted you?”

“
Sí.
But ‘twasn’t a true kidnapping. I told you my father arranged it.”

The Spaniard touched his forehead and shoulders in the sign of the cross. “To think I brought you to such a man. No wonder you ran away.”

“Actually, I didn’t run away from my father. He really is wonderful, and he loves me very much... in his own way. Papa didn’t want me to know he and the pirate captain were partners.” Miranda rushed through that part of the explanation, deciding this could take all day if she let it. But she hadn’t gone much farther when Don Luis’ exclamation interrupted her.

“You
married
the pirate!”

Miranda inched her untouched goblet across the table toward Don Luis. He reached for it, clutching the silver stem with his fat fingers, and downed the contents in one gulp. He sputtered, touching his mouth with a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

“I’m sorry. ‘Tis not my intent to upset you.”