Raven Quest (4 page)

He cursed and drew her shirt closed. This was going to complicate things. If the Blindman was to learn Rory was a woman … Nathan swore again. The old man knew! That explained his amusement tonight.

Standing, he said, “She is hurt. She needs to be in bed.”

Ernest chuckled. “A woman that lovely should be in bed.”

“Enough, Mr. Dawes.”

Ernest's smile vanished. “Where shall I have the boys put her?”

“My cabin.” He ignored the muffled laughs. It was the only place on the ship where he could post a guard and be sure Rory did not try to flee the moment she woke. “And I can carry her there.”

“Are you certain, Cap'n?”

He was not, but he gathered her into his arms and forced his knees to hold him. Gazing at the face against his shoulder and feeling her hair along his arm, he wondered how he could have believed she was a boy.

“What are you going to do with her, Cap'n?” asked Ernest as he walked beside Nathan toward the cabin.

“I have promised to get her to Santiago de Cuba.”

“Are you insane? You know what a crew would do to her before Port Royal had vanished over the horizon.” His eyes slitted, but rage glittered in them. “Or do you give her to the cap'n for his use during the voyage?”

“Rory can take care of herself.”

“Here maybe.”

It was easier to walk on the swaying deck than the steady earth when his head seemed so light. “If I want the answer to our riddle, I must see she goes to Santiago de Cuba.”

“You found the answer, Cap'n?”

“I found someone who claims to know. Rory's passage is the price.”

“I thought you had paid her.”

Nathan waited for Ernest to open the door to his quarters at the stern. “I paid Rory. This is the Blind-man's price. Ernest, go to Yellow Hal's place, and tell the whore named Olive that Rory will be delayed. Nothing else.”

“Aye, Cap'n.” He smiled. “If Olive is as pretty as young Rory, I may be delayed, too.”

Nathan laughed. Olive would be in for a surprise if she accepted Ernest's gold. There had been the stories from Port-au-Paix on Hispaniola … Not now! He needed to think of Rory.

He ducked and maneuvered Rory through the narrow door. He edged around the table. For one person, these quarters were comfortable. For two, cozy. More made the room as crowded as an overstuffed sea chest.

He placed Rory on the bed built against the stern. Brushing sand from her face, he put a bandage over the wound. She must have been knocked unconscious before she could draw her knife.

Nathan ignored the renewed pang in his own head as he lifted the bottom of her shirt and removed the knife. He plucked the small box and the book the Blindman had given her from her pocket. He set them on the shelf over the bed, but his fingers lingered on the pleasing curve of her hip. Staring at the tawny hair drifting across his pillow, he was startled at the flush of craving that ached more acutely than his skull.

How could he have been so blind? Her golden lashes rested on her downy cheeks. The soft line of her lips parted with each strained breath. From the side, he slit the fabric over her chest. A mistake, he knew right away. Although she breathed more easily, he could not pull his gaze from the slow rise and fall of her breasts pressing against her chemise.

He turned his back on her, his breathing rough. Slapping his hand on the table, he looked over his shoulder when he heard her low moan. She shifted, but her eyes did not open. With a groan of his own, he covered her with a thin blanket.

He paused as he went to the door. She had, with her warning, saved his life tonight. He would never forget that.

Three

Pain seared through Rory's head. She struggled to remember what had happened to her. Had she been caught in the middle of a brawl? No, she knew to avoid those.

The bed moved under her. She gripped the mattress.
Earthquake?
Tremors often shook the shore but not with this steady, constant motion.

Something damp was placed on her head. It was wondrous, easing the pain. She put up her fingers to discover what it was when her wrist was grasped. What was going on? No one should be in her room. She dragged her eyes open.

“Captain Lawler!” she choked. His dark hair tumbled forward into his eyes, but he brushed it aside. His waistcoat was gone, and he wore a shirt opened halfway down his chest to reveal his strong muscles. She shifted her gaze back to his scowl.

“Are you awake, Rory? I should have you whipped to within an inch of your life.”

“I think I am.” She closed her eyes. “Where am I?”

“On the
Vengeance.
”

She glanced around the chamber, which was even smaller than her room—a table, a chair, a chest. “Your ship?”

He nodded. “I need you on your feet when we go back to the Blindman.”

“The Blindman …” She recalled their visit to her friend. And on the way back. She winced. “I should have let them jump you.”

“They did.” He chuckled. “However, you took the brunt of it, Rory, if Rory is really your name.”

“My name is Rory Mullins. I told you that.” She fought the agony whirling across her head.

Captain Lawler put another cloth on her forehead. “Rory is not a lass's name.”

“How hard were
you
hit on the head, Captain Lawler?”

“Hard enough to knock some sense into it.” He picked up a strand of her hair and dangled it before her eyes.

Rory drew back, horrified. “You are mistaken. If—”

He caught her by the shoulders and brought her up to sit. When she pressed her hands to her aching head, he grasped them and held them to her chest. She gasped, realizing the quilted binder was gone, along with half the buttons on her shirt.

“I am not mistaken.” A tight smile uncurled along his lips. “Don't worry. I did not take advantage of your lost senses to steal your virginity from you.” He laughed shortly. “If it still exists.”

“Do you think I would dress like this if I wanted a lover?”

He handed her the cloth, and she leaned back against the wall as she held it to her forehead. Closing her eyes, she wished she could go back to the moment Nathan Lawler had first come to Yellow Hal's place. She would hide until he left.

When he cupped her chin, he tipped her face up so she could not avoid his gaze. It was as fierce as his voice. “I want the truth. What is your real name?”

“If you must know, my real name is Aurora.”

“Aurora?” He smiled and sat on the bed. “Now
that
is the perfect name for you because your eyes are the blue of the sea at dawn.”

“Do not waste fancy words on me, Captain. If you want a woman to cozy up to you, find yourself a whore.”

“Are you Yellow Hal's daughter?”

“He does not even know I exist. My father is dead. He left my mother and me to die in Port Royal. My mother did, but I have survived.” She drew her knees up to her chest and clasped her arms around them. “He saddled me with a name I hate and left me to take care of myself.”

“Mullins?”

“No. That bastard left instructions that his bastard should be called Aurora Raven Mullins. After his blasted ship.”

“Raven?” he choked. “Aurora Raven?”

Rory's eyes narrowed. Too many people had laughed at her name. That was why she had been glad to be called Rory while she was shifted from one relative to another until most of them had forgotten whose child she was. But no one had gaped at her like this. “Do not blame me for my father's foolishness!”

“Father? You are Stuart Powell's daughter?” He stood and stared down at her.

“That is what they tell me.”

When Captain Lawler turned his back on her, she heard him mumble, “Raven. Aurora Raven.”

He must be as mad as she had thought from the beginning. She had to get out of here. She pushed her feet over the side of the bed. When she tried to stand, she groped for the table. Hands caught her by the shoulders. She tried to shrug them off, but her knees had turned to quicksand.

“Where do you think you are going?” came Captain Lawler's most demanding voice.

She raised her eyes to discover his face so close to her own that his breath brushed her lips. His arms enveloped her, and she leaned her face against his firm chest, too dizzy to move. Beneath her ear, his heart beat slower than hers. When his hand curved around her nape, he brought her face beneath his. His mouth grazed hers. The feathery touch sent a fiery flutter through her as his hand moved along her back.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“A kiss to make you feel better.” He laughed. “How about one to make feel
me
better?”

Her retort vanished as he claimed her mouth again. His tongue flicked along her bottom lip, tantalizing her lips to part. Boldly, his tongue teased hers. In shock, she pulled away. He laughed and tugged her back to him. As his lips swept along the curve of her neck, she could not keep from softening against him. She should not want him to touch her like this, but she did.

He smiled as she dropped to sit on the bed. “And I believed you were a boy.” Brushing her hair over her shoulders, he whispered, “You are sweet to kiss.”

“Don't say that!” She was the greatest fool in Port Royal. First she allowed her disguise to be compromised; now she let him befuddle her brain with his feverish kisses.

“'Tis true.” His finger wandered along her arm, and he laughed. “Surely, I am not the first to tell you that.”

“No, I never—I mean—” Heat coursed up her face.

“You have never been kissed?” He sat at the table. His smile became cool. “You work in a brothel, and you want me to believe you have never been kissed?”

“Everyone but Olive and Caroline thinks I am a boy.” She never had been so out of control of a situation, or herself. “Captain Lawler, you cannot tell anyone about this.”

“About kissing you?” Rocking the chair back on two legs, he set his feet on the table.

“If the truth gets out, my life will be that of a whore. Captain Lawler—”

“Nathan.” He leaned forward to twist his fingers through her hair. “I want you to call me Nathan.”

“You do not tell me what to do!”

“No?” He raised the strand and ran it along her cheek. “Either you do as I tell you, Aurora Raven Mullins, or I will reveal your little secret to anyone who wants to listen.”

Rory pulled back in horror. She had believed the eager desire on his lips, but he was just like the other brutes who came into Yellow Hal's place.

“All you need to do is help me, Aurora,” he continued, “and I shall leave Port Royal. Then you will not have to worry about your secret.”

“My name is Rory.”

“So will you help me,
Rory
?”

She clasped her fingers in her lap. “I do not have much choice, do I? What must I do? I will not help with a murder.”

“I was not going to ask you to kill anyone for me.” He laughed.

“And I will not sleep with you.”

“A worse crime than murder?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Don't fret. All I want are answers to some questions.” He put his hand over hers. Tracing an aimless pattern along her hand, he raised his eyes. She recoiled from the intensity in them. “Agreed?”

“Yes, if I can.”

“What do you know of Stuart Powell and the
Raven?
”

“What everyone knows. The Spanish hanged him and the rest of his pirates.” Standing, she said, “I wish they would hang all you pirates.”

“He was not hanged.”

She snapped a curse and pushed past him.

He caught her before she could open the door. Whirling her to face him, he frowned when her knees buckled. He held her against the door. “You are not leaving until you listen to what I have to say.”

“I have no time for legends and lies.”

He pulled her toward him. “Listen to the truth, Rory. Stuart Powell was not hanged. He and his ship disappeared after they evaded an attack by rival pirates who were after the gold he had taken from a galleon bound from Mexico. You must realize what that means!”

“It sank.”

“Maybe.”

Rory shivered as she saw the fire in his eyes. She had seen the look before when the talk in the taproom was of lost gold. “Are you trying to find the
Raven
's treasure? You fool!”

“Maybe, but I shall be a wealthy one.” He drew her up against his hard chest. “And you are going to help me.”

She tried to pull away but froze when his mouth brushed her cheek. By the devil, she was pleasuring him with her motions. Yet not to resist would mean staying here in his arms where.… She sighed as his tongue caressed her earlobe. She cursed and jerked her head away. She must not surrender to this sweet temptation.

“We could do much for each other,” he murmured.

“Why do you think I could help you, even if I wanted to?”

“Because you are the answer to the first line of the riddle that has led me here. You must be the blackbird of the dawn.”

“I don't know what you are talking about. Let me go!” Her knee rose.

He jumped aside.

She grabbed for the door. She opened it a hand's breadth, then it slammed closed. Spinning, she saw Nathan leaning his hand against it. Her heart contracted as he closed the distance between them, for she knew it was not only her father's gold he wanted. His gaze strayed along her, making her fear her clothes had become transparent.

Her breath burned. “I can't help you.”

“Yes, you can. You are the blackbird of the dawn.”

“I don't know what you're babbling about.”

“Aurora is dawn. Raven is blackbird. That is you.” His hand edged along her shoulder. “Stuart Powell left a single clue to find his gold. You.”

“Me?” She slapped his hand away. “I do not know anything about the
Raven.
If I did, I would have hired a crew myself to find it.” Sliding away, she laughed. “Legend! That is all it is.”