Pirate's Wraith, The (2 page)

The doctor gasped. “This is indeed very strange.”

A soft moan came from the woman as her pale flesh lay exposed to the elements.

Shock took away Harlan’s breath as he stood above the small figure. The woman at his feet resembled Elsbeth—his long dead wife. Indeed, she looked so much like her, he feared her magic had been more effective than he could have imagined. Her last words to him as she lay dying had been, “I will come back.”

“I will get a blanket.” The doctor dashed away.

Harlan did not move. He studied each of the woman’s features. Not a single scar marred the perfection of her flawless skin. Elsbeth had scars from cowpox. This woman looked taller than Elsbeth and possessed a wiry build that spoke of hard labor, though not all of her was taut and unyielding.

Mesmerized, his gaze wandered across soft breasts and down to the sweet curls that gathered in a delightful tangle at the juncture of her thighs. Heat suffused him despite the chill of the wet weather.

On the holystoned deck, she lay like a luminous pearl, a rare and unusual prize. Then he noticed her lips losing their luscious pink tinge. Doffing his wool
coat, he covered her with it.

* * * *

“Dammit.” He muttered beneath his breath. “A leaky ship, a drunken crew, and now this. Is this what you have done to me, Elsbeth?”

Another moan sounded from the female as the bitter wind blew in from the ocean. Her skin took on a ghastly hue. What would he to do with her?

Hell’s bells.
He would put her in the dory and have Gilly row her to the settlement upriver. As he bent down and slid his hands beneath her, an unexpected roaring filled his ears and everything about him began to whirl. A strange dizziness overtook him and he closed his eyes. His mouth grew as dry as a bone. Surely the demons had seized him and he could not fight back. Had Elsbeth come to take him to Hades with her?

After a short space of time, the deafening sound that had enveloped him ended and the spinning stopped. Harlan steeled himself and opened his eyes. Everything appeared to be normal once more. He gazed down at the woman. Studying her features made him pause. Again, he noticed the differences between this woman and his long dead wife. Variations did exist. It had been seven years since Elsbeth’s death, but he had forgotten nothing about her.

He lifted her head and brushed the damp strands of straight black hair away from her features. This woman had a far more delicate face. His rough fingers slid along skin that seemed to be made of the finest silk.

Her eyelids fluttered. Long lashes swept across cheeks the color of sand on a sun-swept beach. He held his breath as the lashes swept upward.

Hazy eyes a soft shade of mossy green peered up at him. An unwelcome blaze coursed through his body.

“It isn’t Halloween yet.” The voice, barely a whisper, had a hard, sharp edge to it--like a foreign dialect. She did not speak like Elsbeth. In fact, Harlan could not comprehend all she had said. Her eyes closed and she went limp.

The piercing wind returned to slice through him--cooling off the heat that had flushed him but a moment before. He wrapped his coat more securely about her and scooped her into his arms. When he did, an object dropped from her nerveless hand.

He glanced down and saw the small wooden toy. Dread pressed upon him. The pony looked identical to the one he had carved for his son. He picked it up and his heart gave a dull thud as he rubbed at the initials JS carved into the smooth belly. He stuffed it into his pocket.

The doctor hurried up to him with a blanket and draped it over the woman’s long, shapely legs. “We must get her inside and warm her.”

“A woman on a ship is bad luck and against the ship’s articles. You will take her to the settlement upriver and hand them a few doubloons for the trouble.”

Gilroy’s face turned ashen. “But ... but she is the result of my experiment. I must find out where she came from. This is a most interesting prospect.”

Harlan clamped his jaw together and hissed through his teeth. “We cannot have a woman aboard. That is in direct violation of the articles. Even I cannot disregard them.”

Gilroy’s features hardened. “I came aboard at your request and now that you have turned pirate, I have sullied my own reputation.”

Harlan pressed his lips together until his jaw hurt. He owed the doctor more than he could ever repay but no one could
ignore the rules. “I would be keelhauled for keeping a woman aboard.” 

“We will dress her as a cabin boy.” Gilroy stated. “She is not a fleshy woman and could pass for a lad. No one need be the wiser.”

“The men will discover the ruse.” How could they not? Her beauty radiated outward with an intensity that left him reeling.

“They are a drunken lot and rarely sober.”

The two men stood still for a moment and listened as the slurred words of a bawdy song drifted upward from deck below.  

“If you dressed their own mothers in pants, they would not recognize the breasts that nursed them.” Gilroy pressed Harlan’s shoulder. “Take her to your cabin.

Harlan balked. “I cannot keep her there.” He glanced once more at the woman’s flawless skin and refined features. When she had spoken, he had glimpsed her row of even, white teeth. She shone like an exquisite jewel amidst the gray all around.

“It is the safest place.”

“What if she is a spirit—a ghost sent to haunt me?” He spoke in a low tone.

“Nonsense. You can see she is not a ghost.”

He shuddered. “She resembles my wife, Elsbeth.” He would not reveal the detail of finding the small wooden pony.

“This woman is alive, made of flesh and blood. We must get her warm and feed her.”

He continued to resist. In a battle, he stood a chance. In this situation, dishonor and death would come swiftly. “Smuggling her aboard will bring disaster.”

“She comes from far away, Cap’n. We must learn all we can about her. This has been a most extraordinary event.”

Harlan clenched his teeth together. “This is unnatural. Perhaps it is a deadly omen.”

“Balderdash. It is an historic event.’ The doctor’s face radiated with the light of elation. “There is much about the natural world we do not understand.”

“The devil’s minions control this world and you have summoned them.”

Gilroy smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “This is science—not a battle between good and evil. Ach, my cap’n, you should settle down and discover the sweet joys of a simple life.”

“This ship is my home.”

Gilroy sighed. “‘Tis a vast land to the west. There are places you can go to start a new life.”

“I want what should have been mine.” Harlan growled.

“Bitterness eats you up inside.” Though he was slightly bent with age, steel gleamed in the old doctor’s eyes. “What’s done is done.”

“I will win it all back or I will die.”

“Well, Cap’n, you have yet to meet your match in a fight. But right now we must save this wee woman’s life.”

As Harlan followed the doctor’s urging, the rain suddenly eased and the wind blew away the fog. Hair prickled against Harlan’s neck as he considered whether this could be a way to get him off the ship so that someone else could take over. He considered whether Gilroy had mutiny as his goal.

He narrowed his eyes. Gilly’s fascination with questionable scientific methods did not make him a mutinous traitor. The old man remained unceasingly loyal, but there were those aboard who would merrily stab Harlan in the back and take everything he had. Harboring this woman on the
Lyrical
could give them the excuse they needed.

He clamped his teeth together. Let them try. He wo
uld not let them take his ship.

Chapter
Two

A seagull’s cry disturbed Lesley’s vague, foggy dreams. She considered waking up but an insidious lassitude permeated every pore and she had not the strength to move a single muscle. Her parched tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A soft buzzing in her head troubled her. A mellow light flickered over her eyelids. The metallic taste of blood seeped into her throat from her cracked lips.

In an instant, memory came rushing back. Her pulse raced and every one of her nerves tensed but she kept her eyes tightly shut, afraid to open them.

Was her body mangled? She wiggled her toes and fingers. She seemed to be intact, though she found a few achy spots. Her fingers touched the bedding beneath her, it had the rough textu
re of heavy canvas like the cushions on her patio furniture or the deck cushions on Jim’s wretched boat. She became aware of a persistent swaying motion as if she rocked with the tide.

Fresh panic chilled her. She tried to swallow but with her mouth so dry she gagged instead.

“Ach. Another dram of me potion, Cap’n.” A hoarse voice announced. “I’ll be asking you to lift up me patient again, so’s I can spoon it in.”

Powerful arms lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child’s doll. When she dared to open her eyes, it took her a moment to focus for the room appeared to be spinning. Then she locked her gaze on the man who had hoisted her up so easily. She sucked in her breath.

Was it Jim—in pirate garb? He had been haunting her peculiar dreams.
Damn him.

Time stopped as she stared into the most faded blue eyes she had ever seen. Jim claimed he had blue eyes, but in fact his held the color of smoke.

This pirate had eyes of a softer hue, as pale as a hazy sky on a lazy summer day. 

Could she be hallucinating?

The man had the same nose as Jim, but unlike her former fiancé, who slathered himself with sunscreen, this man had a deep tan. His long, wavy blond hair had been streaked by the sun. Tied into a ponytail, some strands escaped to partially conceal a livid scar. Jim had no such disfigurement and he kept his hair short. However, while this man’s jaw line matched Jim’s, a trim mustache and beard softened the angles.

“Your patient awakes.” His brusque tone belied the gentleness of his touch.

Would Jim go through all the trouble of wearing a wig when he hated hats? Would he glue on a fake beard and mustache?

No. This must be a dream.

“Aha! Then warm broth is in order. Won’t take me but a minute, Cap’n. Cook has it ready.”

The stare of the man who held her never wavered. His pupils were small pinpoints in a puddle of sky, but at their depth lay an electric power. The air surrounding him surged with a steady hum replacing the annoying buzz in her brain.

With an effort, she tore her gaze away from his to stare instead at his rough, beige shirt with its dark stains. Bulging muscles on his forearm rippled in the flickering lamplight. She did not doubt that beneath the shirt he had the kind of brawny physique that most women only saw on a calendar page or the cover of a romance novel.

Jim’s flesh had the consistency of a
micro bead squish pillow.

Her words came out a bare whisper. “Where am I?”

“You are aboard the
Lyrical.
” The vibrations from his deep voice rumbled through her. Jim’s voice did not have that sort of resonance. Added to that, this pirate’s thick accent confused her. It took a few moments for her to interpret what he said. 

“Damn. A boat. Just my luck.” She rubbed
her forehead in the hope of clearing away her confusion.

“This is a twenty-four gun frigate.” A note of annoyance darkened his tone.

“Pardon my ignorance.” What a crazy imagination she had. She must be in a hospital somewhere, high on morphine, fabricating this whole scenario. 

Naturally, she would never invent an ordinary boat in her mind. From her vantage point, this boat appeared to be a very detailed replica reminiscent of the Constellation, which she had visited in Baltimore with Jim.

She closed her eyes as the hateful words of her last argument with Jim came back to her. Yes, breaking off the wedding had been the right thing to do, but sorrow weighed on her soul. She should have called the police. She should have taken appropriate measures months ago.

“Stay awake.” His command came with a gentle shake. Obediently, she opened her eyes. However, instead of latching onto his hypnotic gaze she glanced at his shiny belt buckle—and realized he had two rather antique weapons on each side of his waist.

Though weak, she struggled to inch away from him. He dropped his hands as she backed up to the wall.

“You’re a re-enactor. That’s where this fanciful idea in her mind started. She had gone to a few Renaissance fairs with Jim. “You’re playing out the part of a naval captain in the Revolutionary War. John Paul Jones? Right?”

“I am Captain Harlan Sterford.” He did not announce it in a boastful manner, and she detected a note of gravity in his tone. Again, not like Jim who had a glaring sense of pride that annoyed everyone. “We are in the midst of Queen Anne
’s War. France and Spain are our enemies.”

The boat—frigate—rocked harder. She clung to the edge of the bunk fearing she might be tossed to the floor as the waves slapped against the wooden side of the vessel.

He turned away. When he put his hands on his hips, she got a great view of his backside encased in tight britches. Why had men ever stopped wearing britches? Baggy pants hid the best parts on a man. His taut muscles rippled beneath the fabric. Heat curled up inside her and warmth returned to her cheeks.