by Grace Walton
“Then what has happened to you, girlie?” Dorcas didn’t understand.
“She was set upon by one of my crew. I will know the man’s identity shortly, I vow this. And when I do, I will make sure he does no further harm to any woman.”
“You can’t kill him,” Jess rasped through her sore throat. “Murder is a mortal sin. You’d put your very soul in peril.”
She looked up into his stormy eyes. What she saw there must have frightened her. For her slight body shivered in his arms. Finn’s jaw locked. He would not terrify this innocent girl with his own inclination towards bloodshed.
“Shh, love,” clucked Dorcas. “Of course Lord Maitland will not harm anyone. Will you, Milord?” She sent a pointed look up to the man as she addressed him by his hated patrimony.
It took every whit of control. Every thread of sanity he still possessed, to nod his assent to the old biddy. On the surface, his face appeared carved from granite. He was unemotional and controlled. Inside his soul was demanding he seek awful, bloody vengeance. Some, heretofore unknown, demon of massacre wrested with Finn for control of his raging soul. He’d always been a cold, meticulous warrior in the countless battles he’d waged over the course of his violent life. In his world, it was very often an instance of kill or be killed. Just as it had been in the low tavern in Port Wentworth. But he’d never, never felt the acute burn of ferocity born in him now.
Someone, no some man, had dared to harm his woman. He could not reason how and why Jess had so suddenly become his. And he didn’t care to examine too closely the emotion that birthed that sentiment. He only knew she was wounded. And someone must pay.
“Thank you,” Jess croaked. “I could not stand it if you sinned so grievously on my account.”
Without thinking, he placed a solemn kiss upon her forehead. “Get some rest. You will be sore in the morning.” He settled her atop the counterpane of the bed. “I will send Saul with some willow bark tea and a hot bath. You will need both.” He turned to leave.
“And you won’t punish anyone?” Jess’s soft words stopped him at the door.
The fingers of his hand gripped the door frame with enough strength to turn the bones stark white. He lowered his head. He cast his face towards the dark corridor. He refused to face her. “The sea is a cruel mistress, Miss St. John. Life aboard ship is hard. The men, who take it as a profession, know well the consequences of mutiny. Disregarding a captain’s express order is mutiny, pure and simple. Whoever did this to you must face justice. But I promise you, I will take no pleasure in meting it out.”
“Of course, there are always consequences when we sin,” the girl on the bed agreed. “But I’m of the opinion that mercy is always better than judgement.”
Her kind, low words forced him to turn to her. She looked so small, so broken, there in his bed. He wanted to howl to the heavens and castigate the God who had allowed Jess to fall prey to a monster.
“Mercy is for women and children. Judgement comes to all men,” he said as his eyes bored deeply into hers.
“You are wrong. Mercy is for everyone. You needs must only ask the Lord for it,” Jess corrected as she drifted off into slumber.
Finn stood there for several long minutes watching her. The beast within him calmed at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully. She was safe. Jessamine St. John was safe. It became his silent mantra.
“You can leave now, Captain McLeod,” Dorcas said kindly. There was a knowing sparkle in her eye. “I will send for you when she awakens.”
He bowed to the old lady. “I’ll post a guard at your door. No one should enter except Saul. When she wakes, I will come.”
“I vow you will, Milord,” Dorcas said cheekily. “Just as I vow you will not kill the man responsible for her pain. The wee lass has had far too many broken promises in her short life already. Do not be another who fails her.”
“I will not,” Finn said. “But, I vow the man who hurt her will wish for death before I’m through with him.”
The old lady nodded. “That’s as it should be. Jess is too trusting, by half. And she should not have disobeyed you, and gone above decks. But you will make allowances for her, will you not?”
He nodded. There was a sudden lump in his throat. “Some day you will have to tell me of all these broken promises.”
Dorcas shook her head. “No, those secrets are Jess’s to tell and hers alone. Ask her, if you’re stalwart enough. But I will warn you. The telling of them is not easy to hear.”
“Many have secrets,” he commented, looking back out into the black hall.
“Even you, sir?”
“Especially me.”
“Then I would beg of you to spare the child. Keep your secrets close. She doesn’t need to add your burdens to the sum of her own. Some things are too much even for the strong of heart to bear.”
“Call me when she wakes?”
“I will, Milord,” Dorcas said as she dropped into a deep curtsey, fit for the king.
As Finn mounted the rough steps to the deck, his name was called by Saul.
“Captain, we’re being trailed by a ship.” The man handed over a spyglass.
Finn scowled when he looked through the long glass to see, by the light of the moon, the other vessel. He could plainly see its flag. A black heraldry griffin rode rampant across a length of red silk. The banner whipped from the other ship’s mast in the gathering gale.
“It’s the privateer,” Saul said.
“Aye, so it is,” Finn muttered. “But, in this storm, he’s at least a day’s sail behind us. Assemble the crew, Saul. Then see to the women.”
“What do you want with the whole crew, Captain?”
Finn looked over at him with bloody murder in his eye. “I want justice.”
Chapter 8
“How is she?” asked the tall man in the shadows of the doorway.
Finn had spent a very trying night interrogating his crew. None of them claimed any knowledge of the attack on Jess. And, unfortunately, he had no way to prove any of them a liar. But one thought troubled him. None of his sailors had ever lied to him. It was a prerequisite to gain a berth on his ship. Lying was never tolerated. He was a hard man. And a harder captain. But McLeod was known to be fair and just.
Dorcas sat in the cabin’s chair, sewing by the light of a single candle. She’d been keeping a vigil all night by her niece’s side. The girl had barely stirred. The old woman was beginning to feel an uneasiness.
Jess should be awake. She should be complaining about being kept abed. She should be insisting on having something to eat and drink. She should at least be asking for the chamber pot. But she was doing none of those things. She lay in the bed with the rich covers heaped up to her chin. She slept like the dead, her breathing deep and easy.
“I’m worried, that I am,” said Dorcas. The quaver in her voice and the thick Irish accent showed her anxiety.
“Jess wilI be fine. I’ve seen people with worse abuse and suffer no ill effects. Go take a turn around the deck. Then ask the cook for a plate of food to break your fast,” Finn said. “Fresh air and getting something to eat will settle your fears.”
“Aye, lad, maybe you’ve the right of it.” Dorcas stood. “I would not leave her alone with you… but since you are betrothed there can be no harm in it.”
He understood that she was reminding him of his agreement to pose as the girl’s fiancé. And that he should act as a gentleman. Not as the pirate he’d been styled for the last fifteen years. He had no need of the warning. Though Finn was drawn to the still young woman in his bed. In a way both exhilarating and alarming. He had no intention of doing anything that would transform their false exchange of vows into anything real or permanent. He liked Jess too much to saddle her with the stigma of being attached to him, in any way.
“Aye, there can be no harm. I am no threat to her,” he replied.
Seeing the honesty in his odd-colored eyes, Dorcas nodded and made her way out of the cabin. “I’ll be but a moment,�
�� she told him as she disappeared through the door.
Finn stood in the middle of his cabin for several long seconds. He watched Jess. The rhythm of her breathing was comforting. For even though he’d tried to calm her aunt’s fears, the big man had a few misgivings of his own. If she’d not been raped, and she swore she’d not suffered that tragedy, she should have wakened.
A part of him wanted to ease down onto that bed and fold her into his arms. He wanted to cradle her against his body. He would will her to wake up, to be whole again. Another part of him knew that was a very foolish idea. One with potentially devastating consequences. He was known for his iron control. But that legendary control always seemed to be on the verge of collapsing, when he was near the lovely Jessamine St. John. And it wasn’t just her physical beauty that called to him. He loved her spirit. And he deluded himself into believing that he might be made clean and whole, if she claimed him. Truly claimed him, not as just a means to an end. But as the man she might one day come to love and cherish. He shook his head to rid himself of such a foolish pipe dream. A woman like Jessamine St. John would have no real use for a rough seaman with a bounty on his head. She was a lady of faith, as well. And that would pose an almost insurmountable obstacle. For Finn had learned by hard experience, early in his life, to mistrust the clergy.
Some men might believe in the comforting fairy tale of religion. McLeod was not one of them. In his experience, life was a cruel mistress. Only the very strong prospered. Only the well-armed survived the onslaught. Only the cunning lived to great old age. He did not aspire to longevity. In truth, there were many times he’d hoped for the sweet oblivion of death. For surely a state of nothingness was less painful than his life? He held out no hope for an afterlife. He wanted none. Living one awful, pain-filled existence was enough.
The goodness that had been bred into him as a child by his gentle mother, had been beaten out of him by his father and brother. The clergy, he’d run afoul of in Edinburgh, had taken a malicious delight in polluting what had remained of his youthful idealism.
Finn only believed in what he knew to be true. That life was warfare, bloody and long. And he’d best be keeping his hands and his wayward thoughts as far away from the purity of Jessamine St. John as was possible.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep her safe. He might not be able to marry her. He might not be able to ever be the kind of man she’d love. But he could keep her safe. He was good with his fists and a cutlass. He had the ability to sense danger. He was cunning. All skills the rough years at sea had taught him. He could put those questionable skills to good use now. He could protect Jessamine St. John.
A whimper from the girl set his feet in motion across the cramped room. Without meaning to, Finn eased himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He cupped her cool, smooth cheek with one calloused hand.
“Shh, love,” he crooned deep and quiet. “Nothing can harm you. You are safe. I will allow nothing to hurt you. I promise.”
Jess heard the words as if from a great distance. She didn’t know who spoke. She only knew the sound of the man’s voice felt like coming home. It reminded her of a warm fire in the parlor hearth on a snowy evening. There was a wealth of security communicated in his words.
She decided it was time to wake. It was past time to put aside her childish fears and face reality. She couldn’t just turn over once again, amidst the luxurious bedclothes. She couldn’t fall back into an unknowing slumber. The time had come to face her every demon.
Her eyes came open with full awareness. She registered two stunning facts. Finn McLeod sat on her bed. And there was an unsettling flare of something hot and tender in the depths of his gaze.
The man watched an adorable flush of delicate rose tint her pale cheeks. He frowned. “Are you in pain?”
Jess squirmed under the covers. She silently sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for her study old cotton night rail. It concealed every inch of her from her from the chin down. What the counterpane left revealed. The old white nightgown hid. And that was a very good thing. For Jessamine St. John, though certainly no prude, had never experienced such intimacy. Let alone, with such a handsome, virile man. She burned. Though he was only sitting by her side in a most innocous manner.
“I’m fine. You need to leave,” she said it all in one frantic breath.
One side of his mobile mouth kicked up into a rakish grin. “Why are you in such a great hurry to be rid of me?”
“I’m not… that is…” she sputtered.
Now she sounded as if she’d just issued the man some kind of sensual invitation. One she had no idea how to keep. One that truly was the farthest thing from her mind. Truly… well, to be completely honest, she did find McLeod dangerously appealing. But she kept that low, animal reaction firmly in check. Yes, she did. Just because the wretch could reduce a woman to a mass of quivering jelly with his knowing smile, didn’t mean she would fall victim to his charm. A charm, she must admit, that was potent in its effect.
“If you’re not in pain, and you’re not in a rush to show me the door, what is wrong?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said through stiff lips.
It was a shame how the glow from the chamber’s lone flickering taper turned his face into a work of art. The shadows deepened the carved recesses of his jaw. Light danced over the knife-blade edges of his sculptured cheekbones. His eyes became the same muted amber of the flame.
“You’re twitching like a scalded cat.”
That rude statement brought her right out of her pleasant daydream. He was not some splendid knight errant, come to save her from a fire belching dragon. No, Finn McLeod was the mythical reptile himself.
“I’m not twitching. You need to get out of here, right now.”
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, concerned. He plowed a hand through his black unruly hair. “You have no need to ever be frightened of me, Jess. I would never do anything to cause you harm.”
“So you’ve said before. But here you sit, slavering at me like some great shaggy beast,” she snipped. She sat straight up in the bed. She hauled the voluminous bed covers up to her chin. “And I’m not afraid of you. That is, by far, the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard from you. And that’s saying a lot. Because almost every time your mouth opens, you spout some kind of nonsense.”
“You’re not afraid? Fine words from a chit who’s got the bedclothes wrapped around her like a shroud,” he mocked.
Later, he’d look back on this moment with no small amount of regret. He’d wish he’d possessed the foresight to retreat rather than to advance. He’d wish their first true intimacy had been one of gentleness and tenderness.
Just as she parted her lips to deliver him yet another blistering set down, Finn leaned in towards her with a slow deliberateness. He planted one hand on the lurching wall behind the bed. The other he plunged into the riotous waves of hair spilling down around her flushed face.
“Now would be a fine time to close that tempting mouth of yours, Miss St. John,” he growled. And with no other warning, he captured her lips with his own.
To his shame, he found that he had a voracious, insatiable appetite for the woman. He’d meant to use this caress as a punishment. But Finn found that disciplining Jess St. John was the very last thing on his mind. If he could have consumed her in the raging flame that was his beleaguered soul, he would have done so. But he had a fair question in his mind as to who was consuming whom. For the girl’s budding passion seemed to have taken instant blaze, as well.
Finn knew when a woman wanted him. He was gratified to understand that Jess did indeed feel some of the sweltering heat between them. The inferno he’d been at such pains to conceal. He had no doubt the little pseudo nun in his arms would be horrified by her wild and untutored response. Though it was a precious gift to a man such as himself. There was a pristine innocence to her actions that made him want to protect her and ignite the true depths of her passion, all at once. What she posse
ssed was a priceless treasure. Chastity with the promise of a soul-deep satisfaction for the man who would call her wife. Unfortunately, he knew he would not be that man.
Jess felt the spiraling ache all the way down to her toes. The feel of his hard lips. The spicy clove and lemon smell that was his alone. The heat of his sheltering body. All caused her senses to reel. This must be passion, she thought amazed. It was a foreign emotion to her. But she suddenly realized exactly what a true sacrifice a nun’s solemn vows of chastity were. And for the very first time, since she’d decided to seek that life, she wondered at her ability to make and keep such holy vows.
Abruptly he broke from her. Jess whimpered in dismay at the sudden cold emptiness she felt. His strong hands clamped firmly upon her shoulders. His forehead rested upon her own. The room was silent except for the explosive rasping of their breathing.
“That was a mistake,” Finn managed to grate out. “One that will not happen again.”
Jess’s heart plummeted in her chest. He was calling the single-most earth shattering experience of her life a mistake? Kissing her was a mistake? She was instantly devastated. So she went on the offensive, with a startling vengeance.
“Get out of here, you scabby ruffian. How could you think to accost me? And to do so directly after offering me your protection? My brothers will see you dead, on the field of honor, for this night’s work. Do not doubt it. I knew you were nothing but a worthless, scurvy…”
He jerked back. Jess’s hot words were a whiplash to his already battered soul. Everything she’d said was true. He was worthless. He’d taken advantage of an innocent young woman. He’d broken his promise to keep her safe. The last promise he’d ever thought to break. He’d done all of that and more. When would he ever learn? When would he finally realize, he was hopeless and irretrievably damaged? Only the lowest, most perverted of men would press himself on a wounded innocent girl.
