My Seaswept Heart (8 page)

She waited for him to angrily deny any fear.
To even be willing to prove his bravery by doing her bidding. Well,
the wind would blow ice and snow upon this tiny island before he
would let her trick him again.

“Afraid?” Jamie asked as if pondering the
meaning of the word. “Well, I suppose it’s a foolish man who
doesn’t fear the possibility of death.” Her crestfallen expression
made him grin. “But it’s a man with no sense at all who risks death
with no thought of reward. And,” he added, lifting his
blood-smeared hand when she started to speak, “’tis not rewards of
the spirit that interest me.”

“You are a rogue.”

Jamie bowed despite the pain in his wound.
“Captain Jamie MacQuaid, rogue, pirate, and blackguard, at your
service... but not literally, of course.” Jamie gently pulled the
sodden shirt from his side, scowling when he saw again the damage
she did. Luckily the blade only pierced his skin. He didn’t think
there was any harm done to his innards. But he wasn’t a man who
enjoyed pain and he imagined Anne Cornwall would be remembered for
some time as the woman who caused him considerable.

Jamie turned, his boot heel digging into the
sand, then glanced over his shoulder. “I assume ye aren’t one to
stab a man in the back?”

“No matter how despicable I find him?” He
could almost believe she might if given the chance, but she shook
her head. “You’re no good to me dead.”

“I, Mistress Cornwall, shall be no good to
you at all.” Deciding he’d seen the last of her Jamie started down
the path, determined that nothing would stop him from quitting this
island. But then she said the one thing that could.

“I shall give you my jewels to capture
d’Porteau for me.”

Jamie stopped in his tracks, tossing a look
over his shoulder that made her retreat a step. “Ye have
jewels?”

“Yes. A ruby brooch, and pearls. Also a
diamond necklace and matching ear bobs.” She raised her chin. “They
were my mother’s.”

Turning abruptly Jamie retraced his steps.
“What is to stop me from simply taking them from you? That’s what
pirates do, you know.”

“Do you think I haven’t thought of that?” Her
arm was tiring from holding out the knife, and Anne decided it
afforded her precious little protection if he chose to disarm her.
Carefully, as Israel had taught her she re-sheathed the knife,
fitting it through the slit in her skirt. When she looked up the
pirate watched her, an amused expression on his face.

“They are hidden,” Anne said, for she wished
to return his attention to the matter at hand. “Where you shall
never find them.”

“I see.” Jamie stood a moment, arms akimbo
looking first at her, then at the surrounding jungle.

“There are jewels, worth a great deal of
money, I assure you. It’s my inheritance. When Uncle Richard took
me in after the death of my parents he swore never to touch the
jewels, and he hasn’t.”

“Not even for his grand experiment?”

“Libertia has been self-sufficient almost
from the onset.” Her gaze lowered. “At least it was before
d’Porteau.”

Jamie stepped forward. “Now let me see if I
understand—”

“Hold it right there, Cap’n.” Israel yanked
out the pistol, aiming it at Jamie as he came skidding to a halt.
He was out of breath from running. “It suddenly accord ta me that
I’d let you alone with... Lord a’mighty, what happened ta ye,
girl?” Israel’s horrified gaze flew from Anne to Jamie. “And ye,
Cap’n, is bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”

“Really?” Jamie glanced down, then grinned.
“A lover’s spat I wager.”

“It was nothing of the sort. I simply had
need of gaining Captain MacQuaid’s attention.”

“And I assure ye she got it. As a matter of
fact, there seems little need for pistol pointing where Mistress
Cornwall is concerned.”

“He’s right, Israel.” Anne motioned for him
to lower the gun. “Actually I believe the good captain and I were
on the verge of reaching an understanding. Is that not true?”

“Let us say, ye’d gained my attention.” Jamie
leaned forward. “But then jewels usually do.”

“Jewels?” Israel turned on Anne. “Ye told him
about the jewels?”

“It was unavoidable.” Anne leveled a look at
the old man. “I offered to pay the captain and his crew to go after
d’Porteau.”

“But the jewels are—”

“All I have, yes, I know, Israel. But the
captain is a shrewd man and will not risk his glorious life for
mere good works alone.”

Israel scratched at his nearly bald pallet.
“So’s ye promised him the loot.”

“Yes, I have.” Anne’s heart sank at the
bewildered expression on Israel’s face. This wasn’t going to work
if Captain MacQuaid suspected the truth. He wasn’t a stupid man...
unfortunately. “How is Uncle Richard?”

Israel stopped clawing at his head. “Sleepin’
like a babe. I still don’t understand about—”

“And really there is no need for you to.”
Anne took Israel’s arm and headed him back toward the village.
“Please check on my uncle. I shall be along soon.”

When she turned back toward the pirate he was
shaking his head. “Mistress Cornwall, I’m beginning to think there
be no jewels.”

“You doubt my word?”

“Aye, Annie. You’ve given me reason to doubt
more than your word.”

“Fine.” Anne tossed her head. “Then I shall
find someone else willing to risk a fortnight for them.”

“Nay.” Jamie was upon her before she knew
what he was about. His fingers locked about her wrist as she
fumbled for the knife. “I shall find d’Porteau and bring him to
Libertia, but I’ll be wanting more than jewels for my trouble.”

Anne’s heart pounded beneath the silk of her
bodice. She tried to keep her voice steady. “But I have nothing
else.”

“Oh, but you do, Annie. You do indeed.” With
a jerk he had her arm bent behind her back, folded into his
embrace.

Her breasts flattened against his chest. She
was frightened, yet did her best not to show it, to show him. Even
when his mouth lowered to cover hers she held herself still.

“Aye, ye have much more to give, lass, and
when I return I shall demand payment in full.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

His laugh sent chills down her spine. “I
think ye do. We need to finish what was started in New Providence.”
He kissed her once more, quickly and hard, then stepped away. “Do
we have an agreement, then?”

“Yes.” Anne couldn’t believe it was her voice
agreeing to his demand. But his grin confirmed that he heard her.
“Yes, whatever you say, just bring back d’Porteau and Arthur.”

“Whatever ye say,” he repeated her words,
then took off toward the dock.

“Some of them aren’t real happy ’bout this,
Cap’n.”

Jamie turned, eyes narrowed against the
Caribbean sun that rose like a golden orb on the horizon. “As I
recall a vote was taken.”

“And barely won,” the blackamore
countered.

Wind snapped in the sails, sending the
fifty-ton sloop,
Lost Cause
, dancing across the waves toward
San Palma, a string of keys to the east. D’Porteau was known to
favor the waters there for his raiding. And for the most part,
Jamie had steered clear of the area.

Now Jamie spread his legs against the sway of
his vessel. “And what of ye, Keena? Do ye have doubts about my
leadership?” His whisker-covered jaw jutted forward defiantly.

But it was obvious the chief gunner was not
one to be easily intimidated. The grin that split his fierce
countenance shone white against his ebony skin. “Most all the
time,” he quipped. “But I follow you anyway.”

Jamie’s expression lightened until he grinned
as well. “That says little to recommend your judgment.”

“Or my intelligence, for that matter.”

Jamie’s burst of laughter was lost on the
stiff breeze. He took a deep breath, then leaned forward bracing
his forearms on the scarred wood railing. “Will they cause trouble,
do ye think?”

Keena shook his head. “Nay. Not for the
moment.”

Their eyes met. “You’re telling me we should
find d’Porteau with all due haste.”

Keena’s naked shoulders lifted. “Stymie and
Cunningham aren’t likely to wait long before raising a ruckus.”

Jamie slapped the rail with his palms as he
pushed away. “They’ll be singing a different tune when we sail back
to Libertia to claim the jewels.”

“If you say so.”

“What am I hearing?” Jamie’s brow arched.
“Could it be that Stymie and Cunningham are not alone in making a
bit of mischief?”

“I say what I think to your face, Cap’n.”

“Then say it and be done.”

The blackamoor looked him square in the eye.
“’Tis bad business what we’re about.”

Jamie met the stare soberly for a moment,
then threw back his head with laughter. “Have ye been sacrificing
chickens again, and listening to their squawks? Or mayhaps ’twas
the design the blood made as it dripped from the wrung neck. ’Twas
that what made ye decide we shouldn’t seek the Frenchie?”

When Keena said nothing Jamie knew he’d gone
too far. The blackamoor took his heathen religion as seriously as
Jamie took his lack of one. And it wasn’t like Jamie to belittle
his beliefs. But damnation he was tired of trying to convince this
band of bloodthirsty pirates that going after d’Porteau was a good
idea. In the back of his mind perhaps he was beginning to doubt it
himself.

“Hell and damnation.” Jamie slapped the rail
again. “Admittedly I was rather deep in me cups, but if memory
serves, ye were the main one bellyaching about what the Frenchman
would do to the lass.”

Keena still said nothing and Jamie grunted
his displeasure. “Fine. Ye can glue your lips shut for all I care.
’Tis no concern of mine.” Jamie started across the quarterdeck.
“I’ll be below catching up on me sleep.”

Nearly to the ladder, Jamie paused when he
heard Keena’s softly spoken warning. “I’d watch my back if was you,
Cap’n.”

Jamie nodded once in acknowledgment, then
bypassing the steps leaped onto the main deck. Stepping over
several sailors sleeping on deck, their snores gurgling in their
throats, Jamie worked his way to the hatch, Keena’s warning ringing
in his ear.

So Stymie and Cunningham were doing more than
arguing against chasing d’Porteau. He wasn’t surprised. They were a
nasty pair whom he’d toss from the ship if he could. Well, let them
rant and rave. The pair of them hadn’t the brain power of a flea.
They weren’t about to harm him. He was Captain Jamie MacQuaid and
he’d lived through a hell of a lot more than two disgruntled
half-wits.

But Jamie didn’t feel very invincible as he
climbed belowdecks. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in three
days. Not since he was drugged. Jamie shook his head. Damn him for
the pirate he was, Anne Cornwall had brass to do such a thing. A
wench after his own heart... if he had one, Jamie quickly reminded
himself.

No, it wasn’t his heart the lass seemed to
have a stranglehold on. Jamie snorted as he made his way down the
passage. There’d been an ache in his loins since he first saw her.
That was a wonder in itself, for she didn’t have the look of a
woman who usually made a man smack his lips and drool.

Well, whatever, he’d be rid of the itch as
soon as he took d’Porteau back to Libertia, for having Annie
Cornwall was part of the bargain he intended to keep... was part of
the bargain he’d relish keeping.

As Jamie reached for his cabin door latch a
sound caught his attention. He glanced around and scowled in
disgust. “What the hell are ye doing, lad?” Jamie’s nose wrinkled
at the stench, only partly hidden by the odors of bilge and tar.
“Me God, boy, don’t ye have the sense to empty your stomach over
the rail?”

“I... I...” Trying to stand erect only
brought a fresh onslaught of heaves... these blessedly dry.

“Get yourself to your hammock, lad.” Jamie
opened his cabin door, then turned back. “And when your stomach
settles get back and clean up this mess.” With that he kicked the
portal shut. He trounced the clothing and charts that littered the
floor as he walked to his bunk. It, too, was piled with his
belongings, and with one swipe he cleared it. Without bothering to
remove his boots Jamie stretched out his long frame. Minutes later
he was snoring softly and dreaming of a firm young body and eyes
the color of warm whiskey.

~ ~ ~

Anne shut her eyes and tried to breathe
deeply. But the nausea still clawed at her stomach, forcing her to
bend at the waist and gag. How was it that she became so ill as
soon as the
Lost Cause
set sail? She’d been aboard other
vessels. She and Israel sailed the small sloop often and her
insides never threatened to wring themselves out. And when she came
to Libertia... True, she’d been much younger, but she didn’t recall
feeling as she did now.

Perhaps it was just the idea of being aboard
a pirate ship. Or being so disgustingly dirty. Anne glanced down at
her shirt and britches. Filthy was the best way to describe them.
But then she decided dirt was the best camouflage she could find,
other than her men’s clothing.