Keeper of My Dreams (St. John Series Book 4) (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The female pirate leaned back in the chair at the tavern on Harbour Island. A devious smile crossed her face. She had waited three years to seek revenge on that bitch who attacked her and stole Max from her. Angelica smiled at the turn of good fortune that had finally come her way. That dim-witted twit Roger Dearing finally died . . . thanks to the help of the crushed cherry and apple seeds she had been slipping into his food for the past four months. Only small amounts so no suspicion would be drawn her way. The toxic seeds made his mind weak, giving her the opportunity to take command of
The Demon
. The crew began accepting her leadership, especially after she told them the captain was the one giving the orders. Then she let it slip out that his mind was going bad and that she had been the one making decisions for quite some time. The crew were upset at first but after she pointed out the successful hauls they’d had the past few months, their tones changed. Then three weeks ago, fate had a helping hand in dealing Dearing the final blow. Angelica suffocated him in his sleep. The crew didn’t expect anything suspicious; they just put it off to his “illness.”

Yes, things were finally going in her direction. Dearing was dead, she was made captain of
The Demon,
and now she was waiting to meet with Mr. Nubian to inform him where his property was located. Max’s wife had been sold to Mr. Nubian three years before to work as a prostitute at one of his taverns in Tortuga. She escaped and took refuge aboard
The Abyss
. While Kristina was taking advantage of their hospitality, she and Max married. After that, Kristina and Angelica had an encounter and that stupid Spanish slut had the audacity to attack Angelica. Angelica sought revenge and informed the slave ship that sold Kristina to Mr. Nubian of her location in hopes of getting rid of the Spanish bitch but to no avail. After the black-haired beauty was kidnapped, Max tracked them down and killed the entire crew, leaving Angelica even more furious.

Several months later it was rumored that
The Abyss’s
crew was captured and escaped only to find their demise by the Governor of Eleuthra’s son, Nicholas Sinclair.
The Abyss
was commandeered by Emerald Shipping and became a protection vessel for valuable cargo—at least that was told to the good people of the West Indies. But Angelica had found out the truth. She had managed to locate a former crewmember and after some “persuasion” talked him into telling her what really happened to the crew. After the crewmember so graciously divulged the information he knew, she helped ease his guilty conscience by running her cutlass through his throat. From her interrogation she found out that Max had managed to escape and had been running the protection services for Emerald Shipping.

She watched as Mr. Nubian entered the establishment. He was not a man to make angry. He had too many friends in high and low places that could make life difficult if one were to upset him. He was a very handsome man. He was average height with salt and pepper hair. He had a square face with a Roman nose. His gold spectacles did not take away from his chiseled features. She watched as the man sat down in the chair across from her. He spoke not a word. He simply stared at her, his green eyes revealing nothing.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nubian,” Angelica said.

He took a frustrated breath as his green eyes pierced the pirate. Angelica was an attractive woman for her occupation. She was tall and thin, with long brown hair and brown eyes. Her delicate facial features deceived many into thinking she was demure. But he had heard the rumors of her ruthlessness.

“I hope you have valuable information for me. Otherwise, I will make you regret this meeting. Now, what is so important that you had to summon me away from my home to
this
establishment,” he said, his disapproval apparent.

Angelica readjusted in her seat, sitting up straighter as she addressed the influential man. “I happened across some information about some stolen property of yours.”

“Go on.”

“Several years ago you purchased a woman to work in your place at Tortuga, but she ran away. I just happen to know where she is.” She watched as he drew his brow together in thought. “A Spanish lady,” she added, hoping to jar his memory.

“There were lots of Spanish ladies.”

“This one was sold to one of your associates by Hawkins.” At his uncertain expression, she continued, “He was killed by
The Abyss’s
crew—burned alive.”

“Ah, yes. The one Peter spent entirely too much money purchasing. Why would I want her back? She was a virgin then. That was many years ago and I am assuming her virginal qualities that I planned on sampling are no longer intact.”

“That may be so. But she is close. I know how you do not like to lose your property. She is
your
property.”

Mr. Nubian drew his brow together, causing a deep crease to appear between his eyes. “True. Very well then. Bring her to me.”

Angelica’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Yes. Since you know her whereabouts, you bring her here to me.”

“But I thought—”

“You thought wrong, Angelica. You have brought me this information. You can bring me the woman. Should you do this, it would prove to me that I can trust you. If I can trust you, then I may require your services for matters of a delicate nature in the future. And if I find from my inspection that she is still pure, then I may reward your generosity.” A barmaid sat a drink down in front of Mr. Nubian. He took a sip and crinkled his nose. “Disgusting.” He turned his gaze back to Angelica. “Should you choose not to do this, it will not go well for you in the future.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Mr. Nubian.”

“Good. Bring me my property. You have two weeks to prove your loyalty to me. If I do not have my property by the end of that time, my men will find you.”

“The Spaniard will be yours before that time.”

“Good.” The influential man stood and left.

Angelica watched the man leave and her jaw tightened. This was not what she had planned! She wanted Mr. Nubian’s men to go after that Spanish woman. Then she could offer Max a comforting body to take his frustrations out on, making him forget his wife and return to pirating so they could rule the seas together. Now she was going to have to be the one to kidnap his wife. She took a drink and a sly smile crossed her face. No. One of her crew would take the woman. She could then claim ignorance of his actions and kill the man to prove to Max she had no part in the man’s actions. She leaned back in her chair again, imagining Max at her side as they ruled the seas together.

* * * *

Theodore Setters made his way back to his brother’s house. He furrowed his brow as he walked. His twin brother, Ambrose, would not be happy with the deal he just made with Angelica. Ambrose had strictly informed him to listen to what the female pirate had to say but not to make any deals with her. Ambrose knew that Angelica was not a trustworthy ally to have.

When Theodore entered his brother’s home, he went straight to the study. Ambrose looked up over the rim of his gold spectacles to his brother.

“Did you listen to her proposal and then dismiss the wench?” Ambrose asked as his eyes went back to the papers on his desk.

“Not exactly,” Theodore informed his twin as he sat down in the chair across from him.

Ambrose leaned back in his chair. “What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“She had information on some stolen property of ours. I made a deal with her.”

“What kind of deal?”

“I instructed her to bring back the property. If she succeeds, then I may use her again for further endeavors, but if she fails, then our associates would discipline her.”

“I told you I did not want to associate my name with that conniving bitch! What have you done?!”

“I am having our property returned to us.”

“What property? I have had nothing stolen from me in years!”

“A whore.”

“I never have had a whore stolen.”

“This was the one Peter bought in Tortuga. She disappeared.
The Abyss’s
crew found her.”

Ambrose’s eyes grew wide with horror. “You idiot!” He stood so quickly that he knocked the chair over he was sitting in. He stormed to the other side of the desk, grabbed Theodore by the front of his shirt, and pulled him to his feet. “That is Maxwell Hart’s wife!”

“So?”

“So! So! I made a promise not to attempt to disturb her again,” Ambrose said as his eyes widened.

“Why would you do that?” Theodore asked as he grabbed his brother’s wrist, attempting to pull free.

Ambrose pulled Theodore up close to him, then shoved him back in the chair. “He made me an offer that I could not refuse. Now you and your idiocy will bring his wrath to me. I knew I should have never used you!”

“It was your idea to bring me in on your endeavors. That way you could be in two places at once and no one would make the connection that you, Ambrose Setters, and Mr. Nubian are one and the same.”

Ambrose returned to his chair. He righted his chair, sat down, and leaned back. “True. So when Max comes for me, I will send you instead.”

“What?” Theodore exclaimed as he sat upright.

“Unless you can find a way to rectify this asinine endeavor you have sent Angelica on.”

“But she’s already left!”

“Then if Angelica succeeds, I suggest you prepare to die a horrific death for I do not plan on dying at the hands of Hart for your stupidity.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. If I go down, so do you!” Theodore warned as he stood, wagging his finger at his brother. “You have let all that power you have go to your head. We are in this together, Brother.”

Ambrose leaned forward and opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a pistol and pointed it at his brother. “I think not.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Heavens, no,” Ambrose informed Theodore. “Harvey!” A man emerged from the adjacent room. “Please keep my brother comfortable until I deem it no longer necessary to do so.”

Theodore looked from Ambrose to Harvey. Ambrose’s hired man was intimidating. He stood at least six feet tall and reminded Theodore of a brick wall. His broad chest strained under the material of his waistcoat. As he walked towards them, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the room. Theodore turned his gaze back to Ambrose.

“What are you planning on doing?” Theodore asked.

“You see, if Angelica succeeds in this unsanctioned mission, Hart will come for me, but he will get you.”

“You’re going to hold me prisoner?”

“Heavens, no. Prisoner is such a harsh word. I am going to entertain you in a location that you will not be able to leave. Harvey, take my brother and keep him comfortable.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Nubian.”

“You can’t do this! I’m your brother!”

“I can and I will.”

Harvey placed one of his large hands on Theodore’s arm. Theodore looked down at the massive hand, then back to his brother. “You will never get away with this.”

A vindictive smile crossed Ambrose’s features as he repeated, “I can and I will.”

Ambrose watched as Harvey escorted his twin out the door. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the side of his face. He placed his pistol back in the desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of port along with a glass. He poured himself an ample amount of the expensive liquor and sipped. He was nervous. Hart was not a man you wanted as your enemy. About a month after the Spanish woman escaped from his tavern in Tortuga, Max, along with that damned pirate Alex, paid him a visit. Without mincing words, Max had informed him that if he tried to come for the Spaniard, his demise would be worse than that of
The Revenge
. Ambrose readily agreed stating he had more than enough women in his establishments.

Ambrose shuddered as he remembered the rumor of how
The Revenge
and her crew met their demise.
The Revenge
had been the one to originally capture and sell the Spanish woman to his man in Tortuga. She escaped. They found her and attempted to bring her back. When Max found them, he burned the ship, with the crew onboard, still alive.

Should Angelica be successful in her mission and Max came for him, Ambrose’s men would inform him. He then would instruct Harvey and the others to deliver Theodore to Max and he would leave the West Indies. It was not a way one wanted to have to leave the area, but he would be alive. He had enough money to reestablish in the Americas and resume operations there. It would be nice to have a change in scenery. He’d heard that Virginia was a lovely place. Yes. Virginia sounded grand indeed.

Chapter Fourteen

London woke the next morning smiling. She had been dreaming of her late night encounter with Eli, of his kiss, of the feel of his body pressed to hers. Her cheeks burned as she recalled the way his hand felt covering her breast. She liked the way he made her feel. She felt alive. She felt wanted. She felt desired. And since the first time this adventure had started, she felt like she was where she belonged.

She stood and walked over to the wardrobe and pulled on one of the dresses Madison had given her. It was an emerald gown with an ivory sash that sat just off the shoulders. A faint knock at the door drew her attention and in walked, Gladys, a girl Natasha assigned to help her. The young servant smiled kindly, curtsied and approached.

“Allow me to assist you, Miss London.”

“Thank you, Gladys. I can never manage to arrange my hair.”

Gladys picked up the brush and ran it through London’s hair. “You have such nice hair. It is so soft.”

“But it’s plain,” London complained looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes turned to the young girl. “I would love to have your hair. It is such a lovely shade of brown with curls. And your complexion is so beautiful.

Gladys blushed and looked shyly away. “Thank you, Miss London. I don’t get many compliments.”

“Neither do I.”

“But why? I thought gentle folks did stuff like that all the time.”

“No,” London whispered with sadness.

“Don’t look so sad, Miss London. Men should tell you how pretty you are. Now me? I’m a quadroon. Don’t nobody look at me twice.”

London turned to face the servant. “What difference does that make? You are kind and beautiful, Gladys. You are worth twice that of the people I knew in London. Why Dahlia Claiborne is as beautiful as a spring sunrise, but a mean witch. Why she even stole her own sister’s fiancé . . . ” Her words trailed off as a memory appeared.

“That’s dreadful,” Gladys acknowledged. She felt uncomfortable with the compliments London was giving her. Unsure of how to comment on London’s sudden memory, she simply smiled and arranged London’s hair. “All finished.”

As London stood and viewed her reflection in the mirror, she smiled. She looked pretty. Her face had completely peeled yesterday morning leaving a slight bronze complexion. There were several small freckles scattered about her nose. She furrowed her brows as she gazed at her shoulders and noticed the peeling skin. Her nose crinkled involuntarily. She picked at several loose pieces of skin. Once no more could be removed she turned and walked out the door and down the stairs. The pain in her leg had dissipated and the poultice that Natasha used to aid in healing the wound worked marvelously! The sutures had bound the edges together well and Natasha had promised to remove them in the morning. Other than the ugly red scar, her leg appeared healed.

London walked through Eli’s study and out the broken door. The sun was making itself known and drying the dampened soil. She stepped out and giggled as her bare feet were greeted by the damp grass.

“Yuh know, I tink dere are ah pair of Mistress Meredith’s shoes inna ‘ouse dat would fit yuh.”

“Good morning, Natasha,” London replied with a warm smile.

“Gud mawnin, Miz London.”

“It is so beautiful here.”

“Yes, it es. Now, ‘bout dem shoes.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. Madison gave me a pair of slippers, but I just felt like going barefoot for the time being.”

Natasha shook her head. “Yuhs ah strange lady, Miz London.”

London playfully crinkled her nose. “How do you figure, Natasha?”

“Well, yuh want ta guh ‘bout barefooted, yuh know ou ta wuk on Masta Eli’s books, yuh made Lord St. John laugh suh loud I could hear him inna de kitchen. And dat nah an easy task considerin’ him’s usually ah serious mon.”

“That does not make me strange. That makes me . . . unique, but not strange.”

“I ‘ave been nuf places an yuh ah de strangest lady I eva met.”

“So you have not always resided here?”

“No. I was sold ta Mastar Eli rite afta him an Mistress Meredith married. Him bought me jest as soon as iz ship docked fram England. Mistress Meredith saw me masta bein’ mean ta me an told Masta Eli. Shi said something inna har mind told har I was ta be her ‘elp. Suh Masta Eli told mi masta dat him jest married an dat iz new wife needed ‘elp wid har ‘ouse. Masta Helton did nah want ta sell mi but Masta Eli handed ‘em enough gold dat him changed iz mind.”

“I can’t picture you being owned by Eli. You order him around more than his mother.”

Natasha laughed. “I suppose yer rite, mi du boss ‘em ‘bout rightly. But he needs ta be bossed.”

“Indeed he does. Now, from the way you spoke when we first met, it led me to believe that you knew Eli before he married,” London said with confusion written all over her face.

“Masta Helton used ta duh business wid Masta Eli. Him took mi wid him when him did. Said him did nah want mi ta run wey. Masta Helton wuz a mean mon. At times, him beat mi bad.” She purposely left out the sexual abuse her former master forced on her. Natasha sensed that London was an innocent in the ways of the world and the cruelty of her former master’s action would permanently scar the innocent young woman’s mind.

“Oh, Natasha!” The horror on London’s face caused a sympathetic expression to appear on Natasha’s face.

“It’s aal rite, Miz London. ‘Iz cruelty es wah Mistress Meredith made Masta Eli ta buy mi. Shi needed help bossin’ him around.”

“So how long have you been with Eli?”

“Nine years now. Before dat I wuz on ah slave ship. It waz attacked by pirates. Dey took mi an mi son and sold us. De man wo bought us wuz Masta Helton. Him decided him did nah want mi bwoy an sold him. Him wuz just fifteen.”

London’s mouth dropped down in horror. “Oh, Natasha. I am so sorry. Why did he not want your son?”

Natasha grimaced. London did not need to know that she was purchased only for carnal reasons. She simply said. “I du nah know.”

“Do you know where your son is now?”

“Yes.” Natasha’s expression changed to that of pride. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Him ah second-inna-command of ah ship. Him ah done rite gud fah hisself.”

“So you know where your son is?”

“Yes, Miz London, I do. Him has made mi proud. Him has made a name fah hisself.”

“Does he plan on acquiring your freedom?”

Natasha laughed again. “I aredi free. Masta Eli give mi my papers long ago. But mi son does nah know where I am at.”

“You haven’t contacted him?”

Natasha shook her head. “I ‘oppy here. I haf mi Albert. Been marrid ta him fah eight years now. Mi bwoy’s ‘oppy, too. Him successful an free. If’n him knew where I wuz at, him would stop wat him ah doin’ ta stay wid mi. But I know him es happy wid wat him es ah doin’.”

“He’s your son,” London stated, trying to comprehend Natasha’s reasoning. “He’s probably been searching for you. Worried sick about your safety. You need to let him know you are safe and happy.”

“Once him’s marrid an has ah wife of iz own, den I’ll let ‘em know. Dat way him can mek de decision based on wat him wants an nah wat him tinks I want.”

London just shook her head still wondering why Natasha did not contact her son. Instead, London changed the subject, knowing that Natasha would not change her mind—yet. “When is Eli going to fix his door?”

“As soon as I gather the needed supplies.”

London whipped around and spied Eli standing in the doorway, his shoulder leaning casually against the broken doorframe. The breath caught in London’s chest at the sight of her extremely handsome host. He appeared at ease and well rested. However, the overpowering confidence and arrogance he possessed was evident. But those traits did not take away from his attractive appearance or the control he had over London. His eyes held her captive. She bestowed a warm smile in his direction.

“And when do you foresee that happening?”

“When I see fit.”

“And when will that be?”

“Why are you so concerned with my home repairs?”

She tilted her head to the right. “If you must know, it’s a safety issue.”

“Safety issue? What do you think will happen?”

“Snakes.”

“Snakes?” Eli questioned with skepticism.

“Yes. You said yourself the other day that Natasha killed them. I’m just afraid one might get into the house. And I for one do not want to wake up cuddled next to a slithering serpent.”

“Very well. You have made a valid point. I will go purchase the necessary supplies today and fix the door myself.”

Natasha snorted in disbelief. Eli gave the outspoken servant a hard look.

London ignored the noise and asked, “What time are you going?”

“Just as soon as I saddle my horse for I would hate to keep you waiting, my lady,” he said with a mocking bow.

“Can I go with you?” London hopefully asked.

“What?”

“I haven’t been off your property since I arrived. Madison keeps telling me what a beautiful place this is, but all I have seen is your rose garden.” Eli took a frustrated sigh at her explanation. She interlocked her hands together and held them up. “Please.”

He looked at her and the pleading in her eyes was irresistible. “Fine. I will have Albert get a buggy ready.”

The most radiant smile Eli had ever seen crossed her face. She leapt towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said as she placed a small peck on his cheek.

Natasha observed the scene before her. She watched as the tall brunette beauty leapt into Eli’s arms and then kissed his cheek. Eli’s facial expression changed from annoyance to shock to pleased. He appeared to actually enjoy the attention that London gave him. Women normally threw themselves at Eli at every opportunity. Most were title-hungry promiscuous women looking for a way to increase their station in life. They openly displayed their sexual interest in Eli. He never enjoyed the attention tossed his way by those women—never acknowledged them in public other than with an annoyed glance. He used them for his carnal needs, nothing more. But he actually appeared pleased to make London happy. London unwrapped her arms from Eli’s neck and bashfully looked away. Eli abruptly let go of London’s waist and then shuffled uncomfortably from right to left. Natasha was suspicious. If she had to guess, this was not the first time they had embraced.
Good
.

“Let me get my shoes and I’ll meet you out front,” London bubbled as she turned and headed towards the house.

“Shoes?” Eli asked, drawing his brow together, watching London leave.

London ignored the question and darted inside the house.

Eli turned his gaze to Natasha. Her brown eyes blasted him.

“What?”

“Notin’. Jest behave yuh self, Masta Eli. Shi ain’t one of dem bad women, suh don’t taint har badi.”

“Mind yourself, Natasha.”

She picked up the chicken foot around her neck and twirled in between her fingers.

“And don’t be placing a curse on me either. You have chores to do and I now must entertain London for the day.” With that being said, he turned and proceeded to the barn. He hooked the horse and buggy up, without Albert’s help, and drove the buggy to the front of the house to await London.

She bounded out the door just as he pulled up. She reminded him of a child with her enthusiasm. He smiled as he dismounted and then assisted her into the carriage.

They rode for about ten minutes. He would point out local wildlife and greenery telling her the names of each, which ones to be wary of and which ones were safe to handle. Her excitement at seeing the exotic treasures the island held caused a strange sensation to enter his chest. As they rode, two riders approached. London noticed a dark scowl entered Eli’s expression.

“Morning, Eli,” Nicholas replied as he pulled the reins in on his horse, commanding it to stop.

London studied the man who had addressed Eli. He was quite handsome. Ruggedly handsome in fact. He had unfashionably long blond hair that was tied back with a brown leather band and a well-trimmed short blond beard. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. He had a calm appearance about him; however, London had a feeling that his guard stayed up at all times—like a sentry on duty.

“Nicholas,” Eli grumbled, his eyes never leaving the other rider.

“St. John,” Max replied.

“Hart,” Eli growled.

Nicholas’s eyes turned to London. “You must be the infamous London my Madison has been telling me about. So good to see you out and about and looking human.”

“Pardon?” London questioned.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Madison’s husband, Nicholas. And this dark brooding character to my left is Kristina’s husband, Max.”

London’s eyes grew wide with recognition of the names. “Oh! It is so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Sinclair. Madison has told me all about you.”

“I doubt that,” Nicholas replied with a teasing wink.

London turned her eyes to the dark, menacing-looking man beside Nicholas. Her mouth dropped down in disbelief at the sight of him. He looked identical to Lord St. John with his firm jawline and black hair. His eyes reminded her of Eli’s—soul sucking and black as sin. Before she had time to contemplate the thought of her words, she blurted out, “You look just like your father!”