Authors: Christine Dorsey
They left the island quickly after Keena and
Deacon promised their support. Jamie had greeted the remaining crew
members who’d come ashore after the crude hut was spotted. They all
seemed glad to find him alive... as glad as pirates could be about
anything.
Then he brought her forward, introducing her
as the niece of the governor of Libertia. Not a hostage exactly,
still he implied she was untouchable if they wished the coin she’d
promised.
There had been some grumbling, but Jamie was
adept at making people see things his way. And then there were the
jewels.
Anne sighed, wondering where her jewels were
at this moment. Did d’Porteau still have them or had he sold them,
squandering the money on women and drink by now. And what would
Jamie do when he found out she lied about having them?
Anne pressed her forehead to the cool glass,
an overwhelming wash of sadness seeping over her. Despite the
problems caused by d’Porteau, she should be pleased about their
rescue from the island. No more sleeping on dried seaweed. No more
diet of fish and coconut. Her eyes swept toward the bowl that
contained her uneaten meal. She should be thrilled to sup on salt
pork and beans.
Anne sighed. She missed Jamie. It was as
simple as that. She’d grown used to him on the island. His company.
His wicked humor. His touch.
She cared about him. Her heart nearly broke
when she heard Lucy’s shrill whistles as they rowed to the waiting
Lost Cause
. Jamie hadn’t made any move of recognition, but
Anne could tell by the tightening of his features that he heard
Lucy’s goodbye. And how much it moved him.
Anne pulled her legs up beneath the borrowed
skirts found in one of the captain’s sea chests. They were bright
red, and too long, and she’d decided never to ask why he had them,
though her curiosity, and some other emotion she couldn’t name was
sorely strained.
She was sitting like that, cheek resting on
her knees, when Jamie walked in. He didn’t knock, deciding it was
his cabin. And after all, he’d lived with her intimately for nearly
a month.
But it amazed him how different someone could
seem when wrapped in the silks of civilization. Despite the bright
garish color and cut she looked every bit the lady she was. And he
felt every inch the pirate. It almost seemed as if the past month
never happened. As if it were nothing but a sailor’s dream.
He cleared his throat. “The food wasn’t to
your liking?” He nodded toward the full trencher where broth
congealed around bits of pork and beans.
Anne stared at him wide-eyed, wondering why
he didn’t come closer, wishing he would. But he stood near the open
door, arms crossed, and booted feet spread. He looked more the
pirate, less the free savage he’d seemed on the island. Anne sighed
heavily. “I found myself missing roasted fish,” she said wistfully,
wondering if he could guess all the other things she missed as
well.
He looked at her a moment, his expression
softening. But he didn’t step toward her, and after a moment Anne
wondered if she hadn’t imagined the change. For now he stared at
her with barely a hint of recognition.
“D’Porteau plans to return to Libertia.”
“What?” Anne stretched out her legs and
jumped to her feet. “How do you know?”
The pirate shrugged and leaned back against
the door. “The
French Whore
and the
Lost Cause
sailed
together for a while. Some of my crew was with him. He even seemed
to trust or at least tolerate a few. Keena. Deacon amused him.”
“And he told them about Libertia?”
“He mentioned it.”
“Then we must do something.” Anne clasped her
hands together and paced to the small mirror and back, glancing
over her shoulder only when she heard his mocking, “We?”
She whirled around to face him. “You can’t
mean ’tis your plan to let him do it. To sit by while he does?”
“I wonder, Annie, why ye find that so
difficult to believe.” Jamie shook his head. “But as it happens
you’ve the right of it this time.”
Bottled-up air rushed from Anne. “Then you
are going to do something?”
“Aye. ’Tis personal at this point.”
Anne wanted to believe he meant personal
because of her, but she didn’t. Not the way he acted toward her.
And his next words only convinced her more.
“After what he did, I think d’Porteau
deserves my revenge.”
It shouldn’t bother her why Captain MacQuaid
chose to fight d’Porteau, only that he did. At least that’s what
Anne tried to tell herself. She straightened her shoulders. “What
are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He hesitated, not
sure if he should tell her everything, finally deciding she should
know. “To be honest, ’tis possible we are too late.”
“Too late?” Anne’s eyes sought his, but he
refused to look at her.
“The
Lost Cause
didn’t find us right
away.”
“So d’Porteau might already have attacked
Libertia?”
Jamie tried not to be affected by her
stricken expression. But he felt a tightening around his heart, and
a desire to drop to his knees and swear to protect her always.
“’Tis doubtful,” Jamie said and hoped he spoke the truth.
“D’Porteau lost more than a few men when my crew commandeered the
Lost Cause
. He probably needs to recruit more sailors.”
“How will he do that?”
“There be several ways.” Jamie pushed away
from the doorjamb and crossed to the window. Their island was
little more than a wavering speck on the horizon. He turned back to
face Anne. “Knowing d’Porteau I imagine he’ll attack a merchant
vessel and kill half the crew, thus convincing the other half
they’d be fools not to go a pirating.”
“He really is a despicable wretch, isn’t
he?”
“Aye.” The grin was back. “He gives pirates a
bad name.”
Despite her fears for Libertia and her uncle,
Anne smiled. “I doubt he’s the only one.”
Jamie moved closer, caught by the spell of
her smile. “And what are ye implying by that, Mistress Cornwall?”
he asked, his tone playful.
“Not a thing, Captain MacQuaid.” Anne’s pulse
quickened. He was so overpoweringly masculine and sensual, she
could barely breathe. It was with great effort she didn’t throw
herself into his strong arms.
What was he thinking? Jamie stopped himself
before he reached out to her. Another few moments and he would have
her shed of scarlet silks and stretched out beneath him.
And the door to the passageway wide open,
where any jack-tar could walk by and see them.
And get ideas of his own.
Jamie was having a hard enough time
convincing the crew that Anne Cornwall was of no use to them
deflowered. Convincing them he hadn’t already plucked her for
himself.
Turning on his heel, Jamie strode back toward
the door. When he’d put a safe distance between them, he glanced
her way. “We should be in Libertia day after next. Until then I
suggest ye stay below.” That said he left his cabin shutting the
door behind him.
~ ~ ~
She didn’t see him again.
Anne spent the first night tossing and
turning, tangled in the sheet, wondering why he didn’t come. It was
the first time she’d slept alone in almost a month and she didn’t
like it. Longing for his touch kept her awake the next night, too,
but by now Anne was resigned to his absence. For whatever reason
the pirate had decided to forget their relationship on the island.
To forget her.
By the time the
Lost Cause
sailed into
the harbor at Libertia, Anne was convinced it was for the best. She
would forget him as well. Of course, it would be easier once she
was back home, off his ship and out of his cabin. Who wouldn’t
think of him constantly surrounded by his things! Sleeping on his
bed, where even the pillow carried his scent.
Besides, she had much more important things
to occupy her thoughts.
As soon as she was summoned Anne hurried on
deck. Squinting, she studied the shoreline, searching for any sign
that d’Porteau had made good on his threat to return.
“I’d say we beat him here,” came a deep,
masculine voice behind her. Anne’s hands tightened on the splintery
rail.
“We can thank heaven for that, I
suppose.”
“Aye.” Jamie lifted his hand to touch her
shoulder, then let it drop. “I’ve been waiting to talk with ye
about the colonists on Libertia.”
“Really?” Anne turned to face him, backing up
until the rail pressed into the small of her back. “I wasn’t
difficult to find.”
Ignoring her barb, knowing he deserved it,
Jamie stared out toward the island. “How committed do ye think they
are to defeating d’Porteau?”
“They hate him. Many lost friends or
relatives the first time he came.”
“But are they willing to fight?”
“Fight?” She said the word as if its meaning
were lost on her. “But I thought you were going to do that.”
“Perfectly willing to sacrifice tainted
pirate blood, are ye?”
Anne’s jaw dropped open. “That’s not what I
meant at all. It’s just... well, you know how to do battle. And
these people.” Anne let her arm swing about to indicate the
islanders. “They’re farmers and scholars. They haven’t a clue how
to defeat a man like d’Porteau. I thought that was obvious.”
“Well, they shall have to learn, and learn
quickly. I haven’t enough men to do it myself. Besides, since they
have such a stake in the outcome—”
“I’m sure every citizen of Libertia will
fight to the death,” Anne said, squaring her shoulders somewhat
indignantly.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
~ ~ ~
Hoisting the too-long skirts up with one
hand, Anne balanced herself with the other as she crossed the
narrow board that served as a gangplank. Getting about on the
pirate ship was much easier garbed as a boy. But that adventure was
definitely over. Now she must face her uncle and explain her long
absence.
He waited on the beach with several other
men, Mort Tatum, Matthew Baxter, Dugald Miller... and Israel. Anne
had a wild, totally uncharacteristic urge to turn and flee back
onto the
Lost Cause
. And she might have except that Captain
MacQuaid was right behind her.
“Uncle Richard.” Anne stepped into his
waiting embrace. “I’m so glad to see you. I can explain,” she
added, whispering softly into his ear.
“No need of that, Annie. Israel already told
us where you were. How was your shopping trip? I see you found a
pretty new gown.” He held her at arm’s length and Anne’s gaze shot
to Israel who merely shrugged. “And I see you’ve brought our friend
with you. Captain MacQuaid, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Jamie stepped forward and bowed. His
hair was trimmed and tied back neatly in a queue. The suit of
clothing, made for him by a tailor once captured off a packet, fit
well and distinguished him as a gentleman, deceiving though it was.
“’Tis my honor to see ye again. I wonder if we might have a word?
Perhaps a general meeting of your colonists?”
Richard’s face beamed. “Ah, Captain, you’ve
decided to join us after all. And how many new converts to John
Locke’s thinking do you bring?”
Jamie looked at Anne, then back toward the
Lost Cause
. Richard’s madness wasn’t the same as his
mother’s, but being around him unleashed a maelstrom of emotions
that Jamie preferred to keep locked up inside. A cold sweat broke
out on his upper lip. He didn’t know what to say.
“Captain MacQuaid will tell you everything at
the meeting, Uncle,” Anne said as she led him up the path toward
their cottage.
~ ~ ~
Fewer men assembled in the common area than
Anne expected. There was a platform built of whitewashed boards on
which her uncle and several of the elected Headmen sat. Captain
Jamie MacQuaid was also there, looking handsome, but uncomfortable
in his civilized clothing.
Turning to Israel who stood beside her on the
edge of the group standing in the shade of circling palms, Anne
looked him over. “What exactly did you tell my uncle?”
“Damn little.” Israel rubbed a gnarled hand
over his grizzled head. “Ye knows yer uncle. He wanted to believe
ye went to New Providence to order supplies. Was as simple as
agreeing with ’im.”
“But I was gone so long.”
Israel’s eyes narrowed until there were
nothing more than glistening slits in the wrinkles or his dark
face. “That reminds me. Where was ye all this time?”
Anne could feel the heated blush creep up her
face, but she refused to look away. “I imagine Captain MacQuaid
will answer part of your question,” she said, thankful that Lester
Perdue had risen to call the mumbling colonists to quiet.
Then her uncle spoke... a mixed-up rambling
speech about more colonists coming and how successful the grand
experiment was, a true democracy in action. He didn’t seem to
notice the disenchanted mumbling from his audience. When he
introduced Jamie, the griping grew louder.
It didn’t stop until Jamie pulled out his
pistol, slammed it down on the table and leaned forward.
“Now some of ye might have a...” He paused
and glanced down at Richard Cornwall. “... a slightly misconceived
idea of why I’m here. I do believe in the teachings of John
Locke... at least those that I know. Why even the
Lost Cause
has a set of articles that every pir—sailor votes on.” He cleared
his throat, deciding it best he didn’t go too deeply into
philosophy. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then tell us and be off with you so we can
get about our jobs,” someone yelled from the assemblage and others
grumbled their agreement.
Anne’s jaw dropped in surprise. Though the
other women weren’t included in the grand experiment’s democratic
meeting, she, as her uncle’s assistant, was often included. In the
past there were disagreements, of course, but no one ever spoke so
rudely as Dugald Miller just did. She had half a mind to tell him
so, and actually took a few steps forward before Jamie’s
announcement stopped her, and the undercurrent of voices.