Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
“I will come for you, love,” Trevon whispered.
She could see the weakness in him. The pallid condition of his face, the absent smolder in his eyes—he would die if he were not attended to immediately! “I will come for you. If I live, I promise I will come for you. And if…if I do not come…if I cannot…I will send Baskerville to you…with my heart sealed in a box so that I may ever be with you.”
“Trevon
, no!” she sobbed, struggling in a vain attempt to free herself. “Do not leave me, Trevon! No! Do not!”
“Keep her safe, James Kelley,” Trevon said aside to James.
“No matter what comes to pass.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” James mumbled
, his lower lip trembling with restrained emotion.
A strange dizziness began to overtake Cristabel.
She would lose him! She would lose her lover! Trevon may die from the wounds inflicted him by Richard’s cat-o’-nine-tails. She did not want to live if Trevon were to die!
“I love you, Cristabel,” he said, pressing his mouth to hers in one last kiss.
It was driven and moist as ever his kiss was. Yet it was weak, and his lips were cold. “Wait for me, sweet pomegranate,” he mumbled. “Wait for me…or for Baskerville. Either he or I will come to you. I promise.”
With panicked desperation, Cristabel looked to James.
Trevon would not listen to her, for he was too weakened to think with clarity and reason.
“James!” she cried.
“Do not let him leave without me! Please! He needs me!”
“Aye, miss,” James said
, tears welling in his eyes. “But I have my orders. I will do as my cap’n commands me.”
“Good lad,” Trevon said as Baskerville stepped up to place one of Trevon’s large arms about his shoulders.
“No! No! Trevon! Do not leave me!” Cristabel cried as Navarrone the Blue Blade turned and began to stagger and stumble away. “No!” She was suddenly breathless—dizzy. And then there was only darkness.
“I will not survive to see the bay, Baskerville,” Trevon mumbled. The pain had already numbed his arms and legs, yet he could feel the warm blood streaming over his back. “Find the nearest doctor to attend me.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Baskerville said.
“And Baskerville…”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“If I expire…go to Cristabel and tell her. Do not let her linger in not knowing my fate.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n Navarrone,” Baskerville said.
“I love her, Baskerville. I would die for her,” Trevon Navarrone whispered a moment before the black of unconsciousness overcame him.
“Aye, my cap’n,” Baskerville mumbled. “Aye.”
Cristabel Albay gazed out over the horizon. The sun was nearly set. Soon it would dark, and another day would have ended without word of Trevon Navarrone.
As ever it did at eventide, Cristabel’s anxiety heightened.
She silently reminded herself that Baskerville had not come to her—that if Baskerville had not come, then surely Trevon was alive.
The war with the British Empire was at an end
, the final battle having taken place in New Orleans. It was rumored that Colonel Jackson had bartered with Governor Claiborne to issue pardons to all privateers who had fought to defeat the British during the Battle of New Orleans. In the darkest corners of her mind, Cristabel wondered if the crew of the
Merry Wench
had been soldiers in the battle. She wondered if perhaps Trevon had survived the wounds of the flogging—healed to good health only to die in battle under Colonel Jackson. Perhaps Baskerville had been killed and was unable to come to her as well. Yet she would not give up hope. After all, she knew the kind of warriors that were Trevon, Baskerville, and all the crewmen of the
Merry Wench
. Thus, she surmised that Trevon was not dead—only delayed in coming to her.
She reminded herself that it would indeed take longer for Trevon or Baskerville to reach her and her mother in
South Carolina as well. William Pelletier had been arrested and hung for treason shortly after James Kelley had returned Cristabel to his home in New Orleans. And though his estate fell to her mother, neither Cristabel nor Lisette wished to linger in a city that had wrought them with such pain and fear. Thus, they had returned to South Carolina and purchased a home near the seashore, now lingering in quiet waiting.
“Come inside, darling.
Won’t you?” Cristabel’s mother said, placing a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
“In a moment, mother,” Cristabel said.
“I’ll watch for the green flash first.”
Lisette sighed.
“Very well,” she said, kissing Cristabel’s temple. “But do not tarry too long…else James will worry that you are despairing.”
Cristabel smiled at her mother.
“Dear James Kelley,” she sighed. “He is like a brother to me now. I hope he will never leave us.”
“I wish for him to remain as well,” Lisette said.
“Yet he is restless over Claire Navarrone…and his shipmates. I can see it growing in him daily. It may be that he cannot bring himself to settle in with us forever.”
“I know,” Cristabel said.
“Still, I do not want him to leave.”
“Nor I.
Therefore, do not linger too long. He is always comforted with your company once the sun has set. It settles his anxiety, as well as yours.”
“I know, Mother,” Cristabel said.
“I know.” And she did know. Cristabel knew that her mother so encouraged James and Cristabel to soothing one another for the fact it gave them both hope. Whenever Cristabel and James were in conversation—in reminiscing of their meeting and adventures aboard the
Merry Wench
—each was reassured that nothing could triumph Navarrone the Blue Blade—even the brutal beating of the cat-o’-nine-tails Richard Pelletier had inflicted.
Still, even for all James’
s assurances—even for all Cristabel’s assurances to James—she wondered why Trevon had not come. Her deepest fears whispered that he did not truly love her as deeply as he professed. Yet her faith told her that no man would take such a beating or stare death in the face unless he loved the woman he championed. Therefore, Cristabel continued to hope—to watch the sea and the horizon for the
Merry Wench
and Trevon Navarrone.
The sun set
, and the sky flashed green. Yet again, the
Merry Wench
had not sailed toward the shore.
“Come, darling,” Lisette said.
“Your dinner will be cold.”
“Very well,” Cristabel mumbled.
She turned, accompanying her mother back into the house. She caught the scent of the herbs in her mother’s small garden, of thyme and rosemary—and of peppermint. Her mouth began to water, and she knew that no matter where life found her in the end, the scent and taste of peppermint would ever send her thoughts to Trevon—to the kiss of the pirate captain she would love for all eternity.
*
Cristabel held her breath. Something had awakened her—the quietest noise—as if someone were in the room and had exhaled a sigh. She opened her eyes, sat up in her bed, and peered into the shadows. Clouds lingered before the moon outside, allowing no light to penetrate the windows of the room. There was only complete darkness.
“Wh-who is there?” she called as panic near over took her.
She was suddenly awash with fear—for the memory of being abducted from her bed once before came to her full and terrifying.
There came no answer from the dark
, yet she fancied she heard footsteps—the sound of boots on wood. “Who are you?” she asked, her heart hammering with dread.
“I’ve come to ravage you at last, love,” came the voice Cristabel had only dreamt of hearing once more.
“Trevon?” she gasped, leaping from her bed. “Is it you? Truly?” She could not believe he had come—thought certain she was dreaming. Rubbing her eyes, she peered into the shadows once more—saw the outline of a figure standing in her doorway.
All at once
, a candle was lit and flickered to life. Tears swelled and spilled from Cristabel’s eyes as she saw the illuminated face she so dearly loved. He was there—Trevon—handsome, powerful, and alluring, his dark hair having tumbled over his forehead to hide one eye.
“Trevon!” she cried, collapsing to her knees.
“Oh, Trevon!”
Quickly Trevon strode to her, gathering her weakened body from the floor and into the strength of his embrace.
Cristabel wept into his shirt—his shirt that smelled of the warm spice of masculinity, the salty essence of the sea, the breath of the breeze, and the comforting savor of grass and trees—his shirt that smelled of him!
“You’re alive!” she sobbed.
“Are you well?”
“I am,” whispered his beloved voice in response.
“But only for the sake that I was determined to have you, Cristabel Albay. I promise…it was our love and my desire that found my life spared.”
“And you’ve come for me?” she asked, clutching the fabric of his shirt in desperate fists—for she yet feared she was only dreaming.
“Aye, love,” he answered. “If you’ll still have me. If you still wish to be a pirate bride…then I am fair mad to be your pirate groom, love.”
“Oh yes!” Cristabel breathed.
“Yes!” She looked up to him then, still clasping the front of his shirt in her fists. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me so that I will know you are truly here and that I am not dreaming. Kiss me as you’ve never kissed any woman before, Trevon Navarrone. Kiss me now!”
“I’ve already kissed you as I’ve never kissed any woman before, love,” he chuckled.
“But if it’s proof that your pirate still lives that you desire…”
He took her mouth with his then, and Cristabel’s heart swelled to near bursting
. Tears streamed from her eyes to mingle with their kiss—their heated, moist, impassioned kiss! The sense of his kiss—the taste of it—sent her emotions rising, her body to thrilling. He was there! Trevon was there, and she bathed in his affections—shared his desire.
It was all too soon that he broke the seal of their mouths.
Cristabel was desperate for him to continue kissing her, yet she realized her breath was rapid and irregular—as was his.
“Your bed lingers too close for my will to resist you to be maintained long, love,” he chuckled.
“Thus, come with me…for I mean to sail you to our new life.”
“Our new life?” she asked, warm and comfortable in his arms.
“Yes, love. We are done with privateering…you and me…everyone,” he began to explain. “The families have been relocated from the community near the bay. It is only the small remnants of the crew that now sails the
Merry Wench
—Baskerville and me…Fergus and only a few others. We will sail her to our new life…in Salem…then set her adrift to whatever fate finds her.”
“
Salem?” Cristabel asked, smiling.
“Aye, love,” Trevon said.
“Baskerville and Vienne have wed already, and Mother is near beside herself with wanting to embrace James Kelley. They all await us aboard the
Wench
…your mother too. James is speaking to her now, and I’m certain she will come with us.”
Cristabel smiled, embrac
ing him tightly. “Then let us not delay,” she said, “not one moment longer.”
“Aye, love,” Trevon said, kissing her once more.
“Come with me, and I will make you a life of such happiness as heaven itself. This I promise you.”
Cristabel sighed—returned his impassioned kiss with her own fervor.
She paused, however, giggling.
“Baskerville and
Vienne?” she asked.
Trevon shrugged as he brushed a hair from her cheek.
“Indeed. And you will be astonished at how well suited they are to one another.”
“Then take me, Captain Navarrone,” she breathed against his mouth.
“Sail me, wed me, and ravage me…for I have waited the whole of my life for you…you bloody pirate!”
“Aye, love,” Trevon mumbled.
“As I have waited for you.”
Their mouths were blended then—as triumph and love consumed them.
Trevon Navarrone smiled, chuckled, and leaned on the handle of the hoe he had been using to remove the weeds from the garden. He watched as Vedette and Raphael scampered toward him hand in hand. He could not believe his little girl was already aged four years—could not believe Vienne’s son was five. Time moved faster than he would have liked it to. And yet it ever seemed a lifetime since the pirate Navarrone the Blue Blade had disappeared—since he and Cristabel had wed and started their life of happiness in Salem.
“Daddy!” Vedette called as she and Raphael tumbled to a giggling halt at his feet.
“Yes, love?” Trevon chuckled.
“Daddy…may we choose a pumpkin yet?” Vedette asked.
“Mother says if you will carve a face in it today, she will place a candle in it to glow through the night and then make it into pies tomorrow. Please, Daddy! May we choose just one?”