Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (39 page)

“I heard you,” Miranda whispered. She’d taken a moment to savor his revelation. “I love you, too.”

“You do?” Jack felt absurdly happy, especially considering the circumstances. He’d barely allowed himself to think upon his love for her, let alone hope that she felt the same. He pulled Miranda up higher against his chest, facing him, and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Then, ‘tis good we’re wed,” he said, before his lips met hers.

When he finally raised his head, Jack’s breathing was shallow, and his hands were working their way beneath Miranda’s skirts. He cupped the delicious curve of her bottom, basking in her shiver of delight.

“ ‘Twould appear you’ve married yourself a lusty pirate,” Jack said on a breath of air. His fingers splayed, delving into her moist folds, and she wriggled closer, rubbing her body against his swollen staff.

“ ‘Twould appear I have,” she agreed. “But, Jack—” Miranda pushed away when it became obvious her husband wasn’t going to stop with this glorious stroking of her body— “how can we?”

“Shhh. You ask too many questions.”

“But I don’t know... Oh... Jack.”

“Move a little to the side. Ah, there!” Jack managed to work his breeches down over his hips, freeing himself in the process. He lifted her skirts, skimming his knuckles along the smooth skin of her thighs.

She could barely see him, the cell was so dark. Miranda closed her eyes and gave her remaining senses free reign. Her head dropped back, raven curls brushing the naked backs of her legs as he lifted her up against him. She breathed in his musky, masculine smell, knowing there would never be another fragrance that excited her so.

Miranda let her fingers trace down his ruffled shirt to where fabric stopped and hot, hair-roughened skin began. He sucked in air, mumbling a shattered curse when she touched him. Satin-smooth and hard, he thrust against her as if begging for more than her shy exploration. The darkness, the threat of the morrow, made her bold, and Miranda wrapped her hand around his thickened staff. Her fingertips barely touched, but she fondled and caressed till his hand clamped onto her wrist, stopping her sliding motion.

“God, Miranda... you’ll unman me.”

“ ‘Tis impossible to even imagine.” She said the words against his lips, between erotic little forays of her tongue into his mouth. Parry and thrust. Each silken entry delved deeper, till Jack arched forward, capturing the kiss.

His large hands bracketed her hips, sinking into her curves, lifting her. On her knees Miranda was poised above him. The smooth, rounded tip teased her dewy flesh as they both waited, anticipating the moment of joining. Desire shot through Miranda, and she squirmed. Sinking onto him, she took him fully into her body, and the cold stone, the cell... the world, seemed to disappear.

Sensual sounds, a medley of breathless sighs and erotic moans, accompanied the sleek movements of their enmeshed bodies. Jack’s fingers found taut nipples straining against the bounds of her silk bodice. Deftly he nudged the fabric aside. Her breasts fell into his palms, and he molded them. Arching forward, he took one ardently into his mouth.

The suckling motion accentuated the rhythm of his hips, making the coil of hunger inside Miranda tighten unbearably. Her skin tingled, and a flush of desire spread through her. “Make me soar,” Miranda breathed as one hand dropped to tangle in the springy curls meshed with his. His thumb slipped lower, sliding inside and finding the core of her passion. “Make me fly up beyond the clouds.”

With his free hand Jack grasped the backside of her knee, yanking her forward, filling her deeper. His thrusts grew bolder, and Miranda was swept up on a tumultuous gust of air. She shivered uncontrollably, spiraled and sailed on the wings of pleasure. And Jack was swept along with her, bursting free of the harsh confines of earth.

It was a powerful joining of bodies and souls, sharper, yet more fragile than anything they’d yet experienced. A beginning, Miranda vowed. Somehow she would make certain this was the beginning of their life together. But her husband, her life-hardened pirate husband, knew it by another name. The end.

When she collapsed on his chest, Jack gathered his wife in his arms. He straightened their clothing and settled her next to his heart “Sleep, Miranda. We shall both need our strength tomorrow.”

But Jack didn’t heed his own advice. Long after her soft, even breathing revealed her slumber, he reclined against the stones, his mind actively conjuring up scenarios of the morrow. He wanted to anticipate every possibility, every chance to get Miranda away from here.

He must have slept, for the heavy thud of the door slamming against stone woke him. Jack scrambled to his feet, his body damp and stiff, and pulled Miranda up behind him.

She tossed raven hair behind her shoulders and peered around Jack. Light shone from the lantern one of their captors was holding in front of him. She could make out the shadows of two other men—all of them wearing swords at their sides. The leader motioned them forward, and Miranda grasped Jack’s hand.

“Remember your promise,” was all he said to her before heading for the door.

Candles stuck in iron mounted prongs lined the dreary hallway as they were led away from the cell. One man, mumbling orders in Spanish which Miranda translated, walked in front of Jack and Miranda, and the other two men followed closely behind.

Jack waited till they neared an open door that led out into the inner courtyard. He took a deep breath, gave Miranda’s fingers a final squeeze, and slowed his step. The man directly behind him grunted, poking him in the back. Turning, Jack cursed.

Miranda’s hand on his arm kept Jack from lunging at him. “He wants you to hurry,” she said.

Jack’s head snapped around. “I know what he wants.” God’s blood, he could understand a prod. But it looked like his wife didn’t grasp the concept of creating havoc. His eyes shot toward the open door, then back to meet hers, and he had the first inkling that she may have decided against keeping her promise to him. She gave her head a small shake.

Again he stared pointedly at the open doorway, and this time he lurched forward when the guard, obviously deciding he’d had enough of this delay, shoved him.

Miranda turned on the short Spaniard. Her expression indignant and her voice raised, she started giving him what Jack could only guess was a good lambasting. The man appeared shocked, as did the others escorting them down the hallway.

Jack seized the moment.

So quickly that she gasped, he grabbed Miranda’s shoulders, turning and thrusting her into the courtyard in one movement. He kicked out and tripped the soldier who leaped after her, and shoved him sprawling toward the other guards. As a group they were knocked off balance and fell against the far wall.

For an instant, before yanking the door shut, Jack considered rushing into the daylight and taking his chances with Miranda. But the soldiers were scrambling to their feet, reaching for their swords, and he knew he had to delay them for her to get away.

“Run,” he yelled, before slamming the door and whirling about, blocking the passage with his big body. With a slash of his arm he knocked aside one of the guards, who fell in a rumpled heap in the dirt. But another was bearing down on Jack, sword drawn, his face a distorted mask of outrage.

Jack feinted to the right, conscious of keeping himself between the soldiers and the door, avoiding the angry thrust of steel. The weapon fell from the Spaniard’s numbed fingers when the edge of Jack’s hand came down on his wrist.

Grabbing the hilt, Jack plunged forward, impaling the soldier with his own sword. With a quick yank Jack turned to face his next adversary. The man hesitated, obviously affected by what he had just witnessed.

Hefting the sword, feeling its balance as an extension of his limb, Jack grinned at his opponent, mocking his reluctance to do battle. Jack felt a rush of exhilaration followed by a glimmer of hope. One more man to get by and he had a chance... a chance to make his way to de Segovia and extract his revenge... a chance to escape and join Miranda.

The soldier suddenly rushed forward, but Jack was quicker and thwarted the attack. He lunged, flicking the sword tip across the Spaniard’s chest and drawing blood. Fighting in the narrow hallway was awkward, but Jack was definitely the superior swordsman. He parried each thrust, backing the Spaniard down the hallway. With each step Jack became more aggressive.

Then with a well-executed flick of his wrist Jack sent his opponent’s weapon spinning to the floor. Sweat broke out on the man’s florid face as he flattened himself against the stone wall.

Jack leaned forward. “Where is de Segovia?” His sword tip played with the buttons decorating the front of the soldier’s jacket. “De Segovia?” he repeated, when the man showed no signs of understanding.

The soldier broke to the side, lunging toward escape, but Jack followed, piercing the man’s body with a single thrust.

In that same instant Jack felt the hair at the back of his neck bristle. He whirled about, frantic to prepare himself to face a new adversary. But he was too late to avoid the club already plummeting toward his head.

Blinding pain exploded in Jack’s head, then rushed through his body. His knees buckled, and Jack tried to keep his footing; but it was no use. As realization of defeat permeated his brain, Jack felt the packed dirt come up to meet him.

Just before blackness embraced him he conjured up a vision of Miranda. The picture etched on his mind was as he last saw her. She stared at him, her blue eyes filled with love and regret and shimmering with unshed tears.

God’s blood, he hoped with all his heart she was able to escape.

Ah, the wages of sin.

Jack languished, racked with pain, certain he’d died and found his way into the depths of Hades. He was a pirate, after all.

“I see you’ve finally arrived.”

Jack stopped lamenting his final destination, and his eyes shot open. He recognized that voice. After ten years, and though he now spoke a heavily accented English, Jack knew. And though hell was a most appropriate place for de Segovia, Jack hadn’t had the pleasure of sending him there.

Focusing his eyes, Jack picked out de Segovia seated on a wooden bench near the door of the cell. Gray now flared out through his dark hair, but other than that he looked nearly the same as that day long ago on the beach at Port Royal.

With a primal roar Jack tried lurching to his feet. The bite of chain links gouging his wrists brought him to an abrupt halt.

“You always were one to cause trouble, weren’t you Jack?”

The scorn in the Spaniard’s expression made Jack tug against the restraining chains. The motion only caused him further anguish, but it amused de Segovia. He laughed diabolically, a sound that echoed through Jack’s head, mingling with the memories of the massacre at Port Royal. The Spaniard had laughed then, too... bared his teeth and guffawed at the lad sprawled at his feet.

“You will not escape this time, Jack. I have you, and I won’t let you go... except of course to embrace a painful death.”

“You sniveling—” Gritting his teeth, Jack yanked with all his might, but in the end he could only flop back, exhausted, defeated, and listen to more of the fiendish laughter. It seemed to reverberate off the dank walls and surround Jack, creeping beneath his skin.

“I’ll kill you, you bloodthirsty bastard,” Jack hissed, when the tormenting cackle subsided.

“You kill me? You have it all wrong. It is I who shall do the killing.” He leaned forward, bracing his satin-covered elbows on his knees. “And you have gall, calling me bloodthirsty. Pirates are known for that trait.”

“Pirate I may be, but I’ve yet to slaughter women and children.”

De Segovia’s expression hardened, and his thick, dark brows lowered. “Your crimes are the ones we are discussing. Thievery, murder, piracy.” The volume of his voice rose with each word, till he nearly screamed the last. “Foul deeds all. And all punishable by death.”

He stood and walked toward Jack, careful to keep himself out of the pirate’s limited reach. “You’ve caused me anguish since the day I first laid eyes on you. I should have run my sword through you then. But I spared you, more fool I.

“Spared me to slave in your quarry, cutting coquina, or to labor from sunup to sundown digging the moat.” Jack remembered vividly the two years he’d spent as a prisoner under de Segovia’s cruel thumb. “Tell me, de Segovia. Was I spared to give you practice with the whip?”

“You couldn’t be trusted,” de Segovia stated simply.

“Aye. And you can’t trust me now.” The venom in Jack’s voice made the bulging vein in de Segovia’s forehead pulse, but he laughed heartily.

“Brave words from a captive.” De Segovia roamed about the small cell as if to point out the confining walls. “I shall not make the same mistake I made before. There will be no pirate ship’s guns to conceal your escape. The
castillo
is complete now. And it can easily thwart any attack by sea.”

De Segovia came to stand in front of Jack, and his smile was evil. “Ten years ago, when I realized you were gone, I had hoped the pirates had killed you, or if not, that the swamp would do the deed. I left for Spain believing you dead. Then I began to hear tales, tales of a pirate who roamed the Spanish Main at will. A pirate by the name of Jack Blackstone.”