A Kiss in the Wind (5 page)

Oh. She didn’t like the sound of that.

“That’s right, dearie. I’m this ship’s cook and I can whip up a nasty blight.” He turned to unlock a door. “Cabin boy. Humph.”

She stepped into the small room and her jaw dropped. The cabin was an indulgence of beautiful blue fabrics and textures. Silken pillows and spread covered the plush bed flanked by a small writing desk and chair. An ornate chest of drawers marked the opposite wall next to another door. Painted blue flowers and sweeping vines adorned both pieces of furniture in astounding craftsmanship.

“I’ll git you clean water to wash with,” Henri said. “Clothes are in the dresser.”

She hardly heard him as she stood in awe of the lovely room. Not what she would expect on a vessel full of hardened seamen. She kneeled to the floor and let her hands caress the smooth bedspread before laying her cheek down on the cool satin.

Closing her eyes, she relished the softness. Alain would never allow such frivolities on his ship. Nay. The luxuries of money were best spent in port. His crew threw their earnings at whores and bad liquor. As for her, she had her share of boozing. But her weakness came in the form of finely crafted knives.

Someday, when she captained her own ship, she vowed to furnish her quarters with sumptuous style, such as in this room, in her favorite color. Blood-red.

After Henri brought her the water, she cleaned up and changed into a tunic and pair of trousers she found in one of the drawers. She had just finished combing out her hair with a silver brush she found in the dresser, when there came a quick rap on her door.

* * *

Blade smiled as he put his hand to the doorknob. He had a special fondness for this room. The blue hues and silky sheets were perfect for a seductive night with a lucky lady. He reserved bringing women on board for the few he coveted the most. And never did he allow them in his own quarters, in his own bed. As much as he loved his bonny girls, there must not be any confusion in their relationship with him. No woman could claim to be anything more than his lover for the night. Each time he crossed the threshold to his blue paradise was like stepping into a lover’s arms.

But there was no lover waiting for him on the other side. Not this time. His smile faded.

Blade pushed his way inside. “Games are over, Miss Castellan,” he said.

Something in his chest hitched at the sight of Marisol stroking a brush through her shiny black hair. She stood and crossed to the dresser. He could see how well the trousers fit, how nicely they molded to her firm backside. Her tight-laced tunic did nothing to hide well-rounded bosoms, tucked in under her corset, that jiggled with each of her movements. He would have to concentrate, really concentrate on the task at hand. Not on what fantasies he would like to carry out on her.

“Games.” She turned around, her back against the chest of drawers. “Right.”

“My cameo, Marisol.” He didn’t have a good feeling about this. She avoided eye contact with him, glancing to the floor, then to the door.

“You see.” She paused, looking to the floor again before settling on him. “I don’t have it.”

“What?” The bile of anger curdled in his gut. “You said you had it on you.”

“No. I said I still claim it. I never said I carried it with me.”

“Where is it then?”

“In my cabin.”

“Your…cabin.” Scorn tinged his words as if he could taste the bile in his mouth.

“Aye, uh, on the
Egeria.
” She reached up to tug on her ear.

He came forward, crowding her in. “You lie.”

“No.” She leaned back placing her hand on the dresser, trying for a comfortable distance. “I speak the truth. It is in my cabin.”

“Darling, I know you are not sailing with the
Egeria.
” Some things were not worth his patience. “What are you hiding?”

“All right. Fine.” She straightened, trading her space for boldness. “I lied. I deliberately misled you so you would take me along when you seized the
Gloria.
”

Interesting.
“Why?”

“I believe my missing brother to be onboard. I’m desperate to find him.” She grabbed his arm. “Please, Captain Tyburn. Take me to my brother.”

“Why in the name of Davy Jones would I do that? You’ve robbed me of my personals and of my time. And you’ve not spoken a truthful word.” His ire grew into a churning angry sea. “You’re lying to me even now.”

“No.” Her eyes widened as she wildly searched his face. “Please, you must take me to him. I know he is on the
Gloria.
I’m not lying.”

“I say you are. I met your dear brother on the docks. Taking care of business. You remember. You lied to me then, too.”

“I suppose I did.” She leaned wearily back against the dresser. “Luc
is
my brother, my older brother. But I’m looking for Monte.”

Suspicion rang in his ears. “This is a trick. You’re only interested in the cargo.”

“I swear to you. I only want to find Monte. Please, Tyburn. I’m not used to begging.”

Blade found it difficult to have any sympathy for the lass. With the idea that she played him for a fool, no amount of pleading would sway him to help her.

He shook his head. “And so you hide my cameo to ensure I help you.”

“I saw an opportunity and I took it. How could I know that you have some perverse obsession with women’s jewelry?”

He slammed both hands down on the dresser, pinning her between them. “My cameo has value only to me. Do you understand? Value that you could never comprehend.” He ground out his declaration between clenched teeth.

She flinched at his actions but she did not recoil from him. Instead, her eyes traveled down to his mouth. The blistering smolder within them fueled his temper and sent a jolt of heat to his groin. “You will give it to me.” He spoke slowly, wanting the form of his words on his lips to sear into her gaze. “You will.”

“Take me to the
Gloria
and you will have it.” Her mouth hardly moved with her reply.

He laughed in spite of her, a welcome distraction to what he reckoned could be had—or could be taken. “Bargaining with me, are you, chit? No. We turn this boat around and return to Puerto Plata. You board whatever vessel it is that you sail on, with me and a few of my most persuasive men as your personal escorts. You give me back my cameo and I spare your life.”

“But, the
Gloria.
You’ll miss her.”

Curious that she would be more concerned about that ship than the threat he just made on her life. There had to be more to it than what she was telling him. Never mind. Her plans had failed.

“We are less than an hour from shore.” He pushed away from her, moving to the door. “It will be but a minor setback to return. Besides, I see no reason to dock. We’ll simply ferry to the wharf.” The farther away they sailed, the smaller his chances were for getting back the one thing that embodied his world. That special piece of ornamental shell that reminded him of the man he was cursed to be.

Windham’s merchant would wait.

“Yet precious time will be lost.” She beseeched after him as he moved away. “I can promise you the cameo is safe. Don’t let the
Gloria
slip away, Tyburn.”

He didn’t fear losing the
Gloria.
She was under the protective escort of Captain Drake and his brigantine, the
Widow Maker.
Charles Windham made sure to hire the most cunning and feared of sea wolves available to protect his treasure; Captains Quint, Drake and Tyburn. They were to keep the
Gloria
safe from other predators, such as turncoats of the brotherhood like Carrion, and get the vessel in her berth by the end of the month. Windham staked that with the three pirates working together, no one captain would betray the others and make off with the treasure. As an added incentive, once the cargo reached Windham’s greedy hands, he would reveal the locations of some corrupt landowners ripe for lucrative plundering.

As long as the wealthy man was willing to pay handsomely for the protection, the three of them wouldn’t let the profitable opportunity fall to someone else. It was something of a precarious pact made amongst devils. Stripping Windham of his silver would be simple. Any one of them could do it. But a pirate worth his merit wouldn’t give in to the temptation of treasure whilst a bigger prize could be had.

Captain Quint had led the vessel from Havana to the tip of Cuba where Drake took over. Drake was to accompany the boat until the
Rissa
could escort the
Gloria
and her valuable cargo the rest of the way around Hispaniola through the dangerous Mona Passage, waters which few could maneuver through better than Blade, to Santo Domingo and Windham. To help keep it a clandestine mission, each captain sent a messenger ahead detailing a point of contact. Delays were inevitable. Drake would wait until Blade made the rendezvous.

“You mustn’t risk losing her.” She was as stubborn as he. But he was the captain and his decision was final.

“Don’t underestimate me and my ship,” he said.

She came forward, following him to the door. “Will you take me then? I mean once I return your cameo to you? Will you take me to the
Gloria?
”

Blade faltered for a moment staring down in her creamy brown eyes haunted by mania. How could he deny her this one simple wish? He’d be taking the
Gloria
anyway. How much trouble could this lovely woman be? This shifty, thieving, infuriating woman.

The onslaught of a headache gripped him, a vise squeezing his temples. Maybe if he quit grinding his teeth, the pressure would lessen. Somehow, he didn’t think that would relieve the ache. Lightening his load was a different story.

“Deception among men is to be expected.” He stepped across the threshold. “However, it is very unsavory when a woman spouts lies.” He pulled the door behind him, adding, “I won’t help you,” just before the latch clicked.

“I mean no disrespect, Capt’n. But it will be daybreak in a few hours.”

Willie’s statement cut into Blade’s quiet contemplation. He understood what Willie had been trying to say minutes ago, and why he had asked to speak to Blade in private upon being ordered to turn the
Rissa
back. Willie objected to the decision. Even in the dark, Blade knew his quartermaster frowned at him. As he probably should. Blade let the matter of his cameo get the better of him.

He leaned on the railing with crossed arms. His gaze dropped to the prow slicing through the water below. Black ridges with fleeting white crests rolled then disappeared into the dark. The ship creaked as she stretched forward into the salty night. If he returned to Puerto Plata now, he would indeed lose precious time. Sailing along the Mona Passage was tricky with its twisting tidal currents. He’d need as many days as he could afford to make it through safely.

As for his cameo, he suspected it lay with other ill-gotten trinkets someplace Marisol regarded safe enough. A thief wouldn’t be irresponsible with her booty, and she didn’t act as if she’d be careless. He had to trust that it was in this cabin of hers and that she could get it back to him. The Spanish soldiers of Puerto Plata wouldn’t release any ships from port for several days following the raid. The likelihood that his cameo would be there by the time he returned from his encounter with the
Gloria
was high. Still, it sickened him to be at the mercy of her word. Mercy was his to deal out, not the other way around.

He resented being caught between Marisol’s treachery and his commission. Bitterness soured in him like rancid meat roasting in the muggy hold.

“Willie, we’ve sailed together for many years, eh?” Blade turned to look at him, seeing little more than his silhouette. Willie faced him, holding on to a line of the rigging.

“Aye.”

“Do you doubt my leadership?” His question was blunt. He wasn’t angry with Willie’s resistance to his orders nor did he fish for selfish validation. Nay. There were few who could captain a ship as well as he. Yet Willie would speak not as his first mate, but as his friend.

“No, sir.” Willie shook his head. “But I wonder if the woman has muddied up your objective.”

Blade nodded. He hated it, but Willie was right. And he supposed he knew what he was to do all along. He pushed off the rail. “My objective remains the same. Continue the course.”

He took the companion ladder leading below to his cabin. Maybe some sleep would clear his mind. He plopped down onto his bed without removing his boots. Tucking an arm under his head, he closed his eyes. This night had certainly been exciting. Laughable how the clumsy feet of a dancing lass could muck up everything. She spun around in his mind to some distant music he could not recall. He summoned up the feel of her slender body, her firm breasts, when she’d crashed into him after tripping, and smiled. An unorthodox way of meeting a bonny girl. Who knew her cunning matched her beauty?

Where had she come from? Whom did she work for? He had a nagging feeling he didn’t want to know. What he wouldn’t mind knowing was how good her lips would taste. Or how she would look naked beneath him.

Damn it!
He didn’t want to think of her in that way. She couldn’t be trusted.

Ah. But when there’s nothing between you but naked flesh, there is nothing to steal.

He smiled at the thought.

* * *

The thin morning fog hung low over the water, hugging the sea in the last minutes before the early rays of the sun absorbed the briny mists. Marisol paused at the top of the ladder of the quarterdeck to take a deep breath of the fresh new day. The clean air filled her with a renewed joy of finding Monte. Today would be the day.

“Stop dallying, girlie.” Henri’s tone barbed with impatience. “Come along. Capt’n is waitin’.”

She let him lead her along the deck, though she didn’t need the little man’s guidance.

Tyburn stood with his back to them, next to the wheel like a hardy beacon. His shirt strained against the defined muscles across the expanse of his shoulders as he scanned the horizon with his spyglass. The sharp lines of the sword that hung from his hip rivaled those lines that rounded in the seat of his pants. She bit her lower lip.

Henri grunted. “Ahem.”

She tore her eyes away from the captain’s arse. Henri shook his head as she mouthed the word
What?
at him.

“The lass, Capt’n.” He hobbled away and continued to shake his head.

“A fair morning to you, Miss Castellan,” Tyburn said. Still searching the sea, he didn’t wait for her reply. “After leaving your chambers last night, I took stock of the situation. The winds have favored us and I decided to make good use of the generosity. We should be upon the
Gloria
soon.”

So much for the humiliating show she’d put on. Obviously begging had not worked. She had known better. Begging had never swayed Alain, either. She needed to do something to preserve her dignity. Perhaps she should start by helping him survey the sea properly.

“Shouldn’t you be looking beyond the bow with your bring-em-near instead of behind us?” By the way he brought down the telescope to stare at her, questioning his tactics was not the way to redeem herself.

“That’s why I have a man on the fighting top.” The breeze distracted her from his sharp tone as it rustled his sandy hair against his whiskered cheeks.

“Then someone is following us? Is that it?” She sidled up next to him to get a better view of the ocean spanning in their wake. The haze had all but disappeared from the farthest reaches of the open water. Nothing there, nothing but the masculine presence beside her that sucked up all available good sense. His musky smell wafting on the wind sent awakening signals to all her womanly parts that would betray her rationality. How nice it would be to see him smile again. Even if not at her.

“Aye. A light was spotted on the break and stayed with us for some time.” He slid the telescope short. “It disappeared about an hour ago.”

“Undoubtedly falling back out of view before the sun gave them away.”

His eyes tightened with suspicion. “A probable stratagem.”

“Be at ease, Tyburn. I told you I’m not working with anyone to steal that silver cargo. I’m only interested in her crew.”

“You’ll excuse me for taking your words with a shaker of salt.”

“I suppose I deserve that.” She knew she did. Tyburn had every reason to call her a liar. She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with him. Though he would claim she deliberately deceived him, she preferred to term her behavior as bending the truth. She only did what she felt was her right in her means to an end. Besides, her falsities were far less harmful than those with no moral boundaries.

She might live amongst the belly of scurvy men, but the inherent good her mother had fought so hard to teach her children had taken root within Marisol, just as the stubborn impetus of will lent from her father had seeded deeply. All too often, her paternal traits were stronger than those of her mother’s and she hated that people got hurt. But once she got an idea stuck in her mind, nothing would stop her from seeing it through. Whatever it took to get what she wanted.

“Let me explain how this is going to measure.” He shoved his scope into his pocket and faced her. “Once we make the
Gloria,
you will stay here on my ship until she is secure. Then you will be allowed to board with me as an escort. You find your brother and return to the
Rissa.
You will not be permitted to stay on the
Gloria.
If your brother is a free man, he may join you. If, however, he is under contract with Windham’s captain, there is nothing I can, or will, do. He will stay on his ship. But, again, you will not.”

“But, Captain Tyburn, you know he will be under contract. A sailor not signed on to a ship’s crew would be either a prisoner or a fugitive. You’re being unreasonable.”

He tilted his head. “Am I?”

“Yes. I’ve waited a long time to be reunited with Monte. It’s beastly to let me see him just to separate us again.” She wanted so much to embrace Monte, to tell him she was sorry for not saving him. She needed time with him. For Tyburn to dangle a reunion in front of her then rip it away before the warmth of a cheerful hug faded was cruel.

“You seem to forget, lass. I am in no way obliged to reunite you with your brother. I find it a kindness to have permitted you to board the ship in the first place. You can do all that mawkish reunion rubbish when we get to port.”

She stiffened her spine at his rude tongue.

“After, of course, you return my cameo,” he added.

What was it about this cameo of Tyburn’s? Why was he so determined to get it back? Beautiful the shell was, but a treasure worth risking a fortune over it was not. It had certainly been a good bargaining tool. She shouldn’t forget it had been her decision to stay on his ship.

“All right. I’ll play by your rules, Captain.” That was, until she could make rules of her own.

He gave her a nod but his drawn brow negated that she had him convinced.

Still no smile. She wished he would, even for a moment. He had such an attractive mug when he grinned. She longed to see those dimples of his.

“Why did you kill him?”

Stunned by the turn in the conversation, she frowned. “What?”

“Why did you kill him?” Leaning his hip against the rail, he crossed his arms, obviously expecting her answer.

She stammered, unable to speak the words that were not there.

“My messenger. You killed my messenger. Why?”

“I…”

“And don’t lie to me, Marisol.”

Trepidation flushed over her. She felt like a rodent caught by a stalking cat—trapped and about to be devoured.

She sighed and looked to the brightening sky. Pity about the poor fool. Talking about the man humanized him, something she struggled not to do. If only the light of the new day could bleach away her crime.

“I overheard him on the pier talking to a fish just arriving,” she said. “I happened upon them quite by accident.”
While sneaking away from Alain’s ship looking for an evening of excitement.
She had found excitement, all right.

“From what vessel?”

“The
Sugar Lady,
I believe.”

Tyburn scratched his chin. He looked straight at her, but for a moment, seemed to not see her at all.

“I heard them speak something about Windham’s ship,” she continued, hoping to regain his attention. “If the rumors I’d been hearing were true, I knew this time I might find Monte. There was an exchange but I couldn’t see what it was. So, I followed him from the docks into the alley. I was simply going to pick his pocket but the idiot pulled his pistol. We scuffled and, well…” Would it be too much to ask to let the matter drop? She offered a sheepish smile.

“I’m to believe you were defending yourself?”

Nuh-uh. No letting the matter drop. “Believe what you like, Captain. He pointed that pistol at me claiming he’d see the devil before he’d let some woman foil his mission.” Men, humph. Always failing to appreciate a woman’s ambition. “I merely helped him see his proclamation through.”

“You raise another question.” He lifted his brow in mild curiosity. “Where is it you lay your head at night? Where do you call home?”

He was crafty. Her answer would tell him much about her. If she told him the truth, that is. She would reveal nothing that could get her further into trouble. “I come from Île-á-Vache. Cow Island.”

“Nice try. But I was referring to the ship your cabin is in. Forgive me for saying as much, but you are no windswept flower plucked from the grassy dunes of paradise.” His stare grazing over her was no less sharp than a scythe cutting down a ripened harvest. “You’re more like a scavenging gull circling a fishing vessel waiting to snatch a prize while no one is looking.”

A fair assessment. She’d been called worse. “I told you, Cow Island. My mother was born in Spain to a mercantile family. During Queen Anne’s War, she fell in love with a French seaman. Against her family’s wishes, she married him. Together they absconded to Cow Island where she raised three children and he took to sailing on merchants. She has a cottage near the wharf. There she plies her trade as an apothecary, selling healing herbs.”

For a moment, Marisol could smell the spicy twigs laced with leaves and flowers her mother hung in the windows to dry. Warmth spread throughout her as she thought of her mother, of sitting at the table watching her prepare the small pots of remedies. Marisol missed her, missed the way she hummed while she worked, missed the love and understanding only a mother could give.

But not Cow Island. She did not miss that wretched spit of land.

“That is where I call home,” she said.

“You live by the sea, that much is clear.”

“I have occasion to sail at times.”

“Ah, yes. Especially after pillaging unsuspecting victims, beguiling them with your beauty.”

“Victim? I wasn’t aware you consider yourself a victim.”

“Hardly, that. I would never allow as such. But that is why you are here, is it not?”

“I detect bitterness.”

“Ho, ho.” His fleeting chuckle gave way to what she’d been waiting for.

Delighted, she smiled as those dimples made an appearance. Her knees weakened with his trifling grin. She knew why he reserved his good nature in her presence. There would be no mistaking his intentions and what he expected from her. This had all been unpleasant business to him. She felt saddened by the thought, saddened that he didn’t smile at her more.

“I harbor much more than bitterness, sweet lady.” He closed the gap between them. “Would you care to find out just what I harbor? Or where?”

His crude remark did not appall her like she imagined he intended. Living among a ship full of scum counting down the days until they would make the next port so that they could prig a cheap blouse, she had heard it all.

“I’m uninterested in the docking habits of a draughty dinghy.”

His deep laugh lengthened the cut of his dimples. “’Tis a shame, I’d say. Wherever I drop anchor, my man-o’-war is usually well received in berth.”