Souls Entwined

by Anne B. Cole

  Anya placed her hand on his cheek then pulled back when she realized her hand was trembling. Confused at this sudden nervousness, she snuggled closer as thoughts ran through her head. She wanted to be with Lorenzo in every way. He was a sailor, almost twenty. Surely he had experience. She wasn’t afraid, but had never . . . that was probably it, first time jitters. Her heart skipped several beats. Something deep inside of her was afraid, urged her to leave.

  Anya refused to let silly nerves ruin her night, so she buried her head into Lorenzo’s chest. He wrapped a blanket around them. She found her hands working the fastening of his trousers as his hand slid beneath her chemise. She was ready but couldn’t command her body to stop shaking, to breathe slowly, to enjoy what she knew she wanted.

  “Wait.” Biting her lip, she drew back. “I need to . . .” Tilting her head to the sea, she swallowed hard.

  Lorenzo took a deep breath, releasing his hold.

  “Patience,” Anya whispered. As she rose, her dress slid down to her ankles. Lorenzo’s eyes trailed over her thin chemise. For a second, she wanted to fall back into his arms. Instead she stepped out of the dress and made her way over to three large boulders at the edge of the water.

  Behind the rocks, she removed the chemise, tossing it up on the highest one. Anya eased herself into the sea, relaxing in the cool water. It swept away her strange anxiety and empowered her with confidence. She closed her eyes as her heart steadied.

  A nearby splash caught Anya’s attention. Peeking around the rocks, she saw Lorenzo skipping stones across the still sea. The setting sun painted the sky around him into an array of orange and purple hues. His belt and gun were gone. Only his trousers remained, barely clinging to his lean body. Anya quickly pulled the chemise over her head onto damp skin.

  Lorenzo picked up another stone. Before he could throw it, he saw her. His arm froze in midair. Anya’s bare feet flew across the sand. The stone thudded to the ground. Their bodies, then lips, met tentatively before she crushed against him.

  The sun sizzled upon the water as they became one.

  Chapter 19

  Gone

  Anya woke, her head slowly rising and falling with each breath Lorenzo took. It was past sunrise. Clouds had moved in overnight, concealing the morning rays. Raindrops tapped the sides of the cozy tent. Lorenzo slept peacefully as Anya anguished. As beautiful as everything was in the past day, one thought lingered. Mama was never wrong.

  A tear dropped on Lorenzo’s skin. Anya gently whisked it away. He stirred, tightening his arm around her. Ashamed of her tears, she concentrated on the soft, rhythmic sound of Lorenzo’s heartbeat. She stared at his shoulder, at the wound that nearly took his life. It was that wound that had brought them together. When he was healing, she could always tell if he was awake even if his eyes were closed. His smile would be there, the little grin that she loved.

  Fear flooded in. Anya needed to make every moment count, every minute perfect. They had five days left until he had to leave, then months to wait until January when he would return. Horror gripped her. Maybe five days are all that are left. Mama foresaw his death. The ring. It remained on the Kalliste in her dress pocket. As she turned her face toward his, she brushed the top of her head against the underside of his chin.

  “Hey,” Lorenzo pulled her close. “You okay?” Anya nodded, unable to form words. “Bad dream?” His hand touched her cheek.

  She pressed her face into his caress, nodding once. It was a bad dream, a horrible dream interrupting a perfect one.

  “Mama, she told me . . .”

  Lorenzo drew her even closer. “I know.”

  Anya’s eyes widened in surprise then narrowed. Mama never told anyone about visions of death. A tear dropped to his chest and then another. Stupid tears. Sorrow replaced the concern on Lorenzo’s face.

  “Tatiana was coughing when I asked for your hand. That was when I saw the blood. Two sailors had consumption my first year on the Warren.” He paused as a flood of tears escaped her.

  He doesn’t know. Anya’s heart raced faster. She knew she had to get that ring. The idea of living without him was too much. The familiar urge to escape returned.

  “We must go.” Why did I say that? She watched hurt streak across Lorenzo’s face.

  “We can go back today.” He wiped her cheeks with his fingers.

  “No.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed a lock of hair away from his face. “I stay with you.” He studied her to make certain. When she formed a smile, his grin returned.

  “We can stay through tomorrow afternoon.” Anya blinked in surprise. “If that is what you want,” he added cautiously.

  Her expression answered without words. No more time would be wasted. Five days were left; he was entirely hers for two of them.

  The rain ended later that morning. Anya sighed as Lorenzo peered out of the tent. Warm sun peeked through the dispersing clouds. Her arms instinctively tugged, pulling him back. No more wasted time.

  “Anya, I need to . . .” Lorenzo tilted his head toward the rocks, grinning sheepishly.After he sat up, she wrapped the blanket quickly around herself then scanned the tent for clothing. Finding only his shirt, she snatched it, wrapped in its warmth, and then kissed the back of his neck. Groaning, he placed a finger to her lips then grabbed his trousers. “Keep warm.” He quickly ran to the rocks to relieve himself.

  Anya crawled out of the tent. The sun warmed her face as cool sand filtered between her toes. Squinting from the brightness of the summer sun, she scanned the beach for her clothing. She found her gown on the blanket, soaked by the rain. Her stomach growled loudly as she spread the dress out to dry.

  “Hungry?” Lorenzo wrapped his arms around her from behind. Together they went to the tent, pulling out a sack of food. In no time, he had the fire lit and water heating for tea. They spread another blanket, placing bread, cheese, and dried fruit on it. Everything was delicious and practically gone by the time the tea was ready. Anya gazed at the Kalliste. A young crewman scrambled up the mast at Peter’s command.

  “Peter’s breaking in a new first mate,” Lorenzo chuckled, taking her hand. She watched his fingers trail around her ring. It was the first piece of jewelry she had ever owned. She continued staring at it while he continued, “I want to take you to America to meet my family.” His words were soft and honest.

  “Tell me.” Anya wanted to know everything about his life in America.

  Lorenzo’s eyes danced. “I haven’t seen them for over two years. My father owns land that we farm and rent. Mother takes care of the house, the boarders, and all of my siblings.”

  “Names?” Anya inquired, not knowing who or what ‘boarders’ were.

  “Lorinda is two years older than me, married with two boys. Then there’s me.” Anya sidled up against him with pride. “Next is William. He will be seventeen next month. Will works the land with Father. He wants to join the army like our Uncle Jesse.” He shook his head. “Father doesn’t like the idea, wants him to wait until I come home.”

  Anya failed in her attempt to remain expressionless. His voice softened, “Things are different now. My home is where you are. We will visit America . . . when you’re ready.” Anya knew he meant after Mama died.

  “I want to meet them,” she spoke up, trying to remain strong.

  “There are more,” his eyes sparkled. “I have three young sisters. Roxana is seven. Elvira is five, and Senantha was born last year. I haven’t seen her yet.” Lorenzo’s smile faded.

  Anya followed his gaze to the Kalliste. The Greek merchant flag was down. A solid red flag was being raised by a second member of Peter’s crew.

  Lorenzo jumped to his feet, walking hastily up and down the shore. He ran back to the boat and retrieved a sack from under it.

  “Get in the tent.” His tone was harsh. Anya obeyed, too shocked to
do otherwise. Lorenzo had never ordered her to do anything. She headed into the tent with him right behind.

  “I need my shirt.” He handed her a blue cotton dress and grabbed the pistol, making sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he placed the gun in his belt. She fumbled with the shirt buttons, trying to take it off. Lorenzo frowned and pulled the shirt over her head and onto his own in one motion. Anya threw the dress on, not knowing what was happening. He turned her around, quickly buttoning her dress.

  “A ship is approaching. I will go to Peter to be certain it is safe. Stay here until I return.” His lips barely brushed hers before he left the tent. Anya scrambled out. He scowled at her disobedience but allowed her to help take the boat to the water.

  A shot fired.

  Lorenzo spun toward the Kalliste.

  Peter stood on the deck with a gun held high in the air. One of his crew was lowering the flag.

  Relief washed over Anya. She assumed the ship had passed. Lorenzo dragged her by the arm into the boat without taking his eyes off Peter.

  “No red flag.” Anya didn’t understand his continued concern.

  “They will replace it.” Lorenzo pulled ferociously on the oars. She watched as another flag was raised.

  “Black?” Lorenzo inquired through gritted teeth. His back was to the ship. Anya nodded. “Can you swim?”

  “Yes.” Anya’s heart pounded.

  “If Lubber is on board the Kalliste, swim back to the island and hide. Stay there until it is safe. If we get there first, go downstairs. Do not come on deck.”

  Anya nodded as he maneuvered the boat alongside the Kalliste. Peter called to a boy named Matthew to help pull them aboard.

  Lorenzo studied the pirate ship, which had anchored, nearly a hundred meters away. Lubber and two men, an African and an Ottoman, climbed into a small boat. Two others remained on deck.

  Peter handed a gun to Matthew, and then turned to the other. “Daniel, my swords.” The older boy retrieved them. The pirates were fast approaching. It was too late to pull anchor. Peter handed a sword to Lorenzo and turned to Daniel. “Take Anya downstairs. Stand guard.”

  “Aye,” Daniel replied.

  Lorenzo took his eyes off the pirates, pressing the pistol into Anya’s hand.

  “No, you keep it,” she begged.

  “If any of them get past Daniel, use it.” Before she could protest, Daniel grabbed her arm.

  “This way, Mrs. Taylor.” He took her down the steps. Daniel was Greek, in his late teens, a little shorter than Lorenzo but very strong.

  The skin on Anya’s neck tingled. “I must go. We have to go now.” The ever present urge to run returned. Mrs. Taylor? He called me Mrs. Taylor. Anya’s thoughts moved from fear to determination. She stopped struggling as he pressed a key in her hand.

  “Can you shoot?” Daniel questioned.

  “Yes.” Anya remembered how Alec taught her how to shoot to kill after her arm healed. It was a long time ago, but she had no doubt she could kill a pirate.

  “I will be at the bottom of the stairs, right outside your door. Lock it.” Daniel closed the door behind him. She stared at the gun.

  “Mrs. Taylor?” Through the door, Daniel sounded annoyed. “The door, lock the door.” Anya placed the key in the lock and turned.

  “Why don’t they just kill them?” Anya cried out to Daniel.

  “Gentleman’s code,” he replied.

  Angry, threatening voices sounded on the deck. The ship swayed as the pirates boarded. Lorenzo’s voice joined Peter’s in a rebuttal with Lubber. On deck it was three against three. Daniel made four. Gripping the gun, Anya made five.

  Swords clanged. Lorenzo’s words to Thomas rang clear in her head. ‘He is the finest swordsman I’ve ever seen. You’re lucky to be alive.’ A shot fired, followed by another. Anya couldn’t take not knowing. Her hand turned the key, cracking open the door.

  She saw Daniel crouched behind a barrel, ready to blindside anyone who came down the steps. At the top of the stairs, Peter fought Lubber. They moved out of sight. She pushed the door open a bit more, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lorenzo. Daniel pointed sternly to get back in. Glaring, she obeyed.

  Fighting sounded overhead. “Hand it over, and I will kill you quickly. You won’t feel a thing,” Lubber taunted Peter.

  A thump followed by the sound of breaking glass outside the door made Anya jump. Laughter erupted, but it was not Daniel’s voice. The gun shook in her hand.

  Footsteps plodded up the stairs. Anya grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a rack before cracking open the door. She watched the African drag an unconscious Daniel up the steps. She crept out and froze at the sound of Lubber’s voice from above.

  “Another?” Lubber sneered.

  “Plenty more,” Peter snarled back.

  “He’s lying, just the two boys,” Lorenzo cried out. Anya ducked behind the barrel as the African’s heavy boots clomped down the steps, pausing just inches away. She had left the door to the room ajar, and he noticed.

  Anya had to use the gun. The man was huge, as tall as Alec and much heavier. She held her breath as he passed the barrel, then aimed. The African heard the gun click as she drew back the hammer.

  Before she could pull the trigger, he grabbed the barrel of her gun. Without releasing her grip on the gun, she swung the bottle with her other hand, crashing it against the side of his head. Whiskey and glass sprayed, yet he remained standing. Anya slammed the butt of the gun into the back of his head. He went down on one knee, groaning once before she walloped him again.

  “That’s for Daniel,” she muttered. Thankfully, he fell unconscious into the room. Anya shoved his legs inside the door and turned the key.

  Halfway up the stairs, Anya paused. Lorenzo and the Ottoman were at the stern. This pirate was older and seemed to be tiring. Their blades locked. Chills ran down her back as the Ottoman screamed in Arabic. Lorenzo hit the side of the man’s face with his fist. The pirate’s legs buckled before he dropped to the deck. Lorenzo tossed him overboard. They were down to one.

  Anya straightened, scanning the deck. Both Daniel and Matthew were tied to the center mast with Daniel bent over, unconscious. Matthew appeared alert, with his left arm bleeding.

  Lubber tangled his sword within Peter’s then drew a jeweled dagger. Sunlight flashed upon the blade and sparkled in the red and green jewels of the handle. Peter’s eyes locked on the dagger.

  From the corner of her eye, Anya watched Lorenzo halt. He, too, noticed the dagger and seemed to become mesmerized by it. She watched in horror as Lubber swung the blade through the air, plunging it deep into Peter’s chest.

  “No,” Anya gasped.

  Lorenzo’s eyes darted to her; they blazed and silently screamed, ‘Stay back!’

  Unable to move, she watched Peter drop to the deck.

  Lubber cocked his head, withdrawing the dagger. Blood spread over Peter’s chest, flowing down his side.

  Peter moaned, reaching into his vest. “Take it, leave the others.” His eyes caught Anya’s and held. All sparkle of life had vanished.

  Her feet fled toward Peter. Lorenzo stepped in front of her and fiercely pushed her against the rail.

  Lubber bent down and took the black book from Peter. He pocketed it then removed his hat dramatically. “My apologies for not killing you in a painless fashion.” The green scarf wrapped around his head slipped down over one eye.

  Lorenzo charged with two swords. Lubber fumbled with the scarf, replaced his hat, and then parried Lorenzo’s blows with ease. “You’ve improved.”

  “I would have killed you on Kimolos, but Peter stopped me.” Lorenzo attacked ferociously.

  “Quite the gentleman . . . he was.”

  “He won’t stop me now.” The hatred in Lorenzo’s voice scared Anya. Lubber also not
ed his fury, swiftly tangling the sword in her husband’s left hand. It clattered across the deck.

  “Join me, American,” Lubber roared. “Together we will be unstoppable.” He lowered his sword slightly.

  “You killed my friend.” Lorenzo shot back, taking a quick breath. Lubber flicked his wrist and Lorenzo’s other sword flew out of his right hand and over the rail.

  “And now, I’ll kill you,” the pirate tittered, placing his sword on Lorenzo’s neck. A shot rang out. Lubber’s hat blew off his head, plummeting overboard. He spun around in dumbfounded disarray as his scarf slid back over his eyes.

  Lorenzo landed several blows to his face then grabbed his sword, placing it upon Lubber’s chest.

  “How sweet, a girl saved you,” he taunted even in his precarious position.

  Lorenzo held the sword firmly.

  Do it, Lorenzo, Anya thought. Kill him. A strong hand suddenly grabbed the gun out of her hand, placing it against her temple. Her attacker twisted her arm behind her back. A gasp of pain fell from her lips.

  “Let her go,” Lorenzo cried. There was no response from the man who held her. Lorenzo turned to Lubber. “Order him off.”

  “Berk is new, doesn’t take orders well,” Lubber said with a flippant smile, adjusting his scarf.

  Lorenzo pressed the sword through the fabric of Lubber’s shirt. The gun against her head cocked as the assailant twisted her wrist. Anya screamed in pain when it snapped.

  Lorenzo’s face paled. “Let her go.” He tossed the sword to the deck. “Do with me as you wish.”

  Lubber raised one brow. “Finally, a solution that is acceptable.” He turned to Berk, commanding him in Arabic. Anya broke free, running to Lorenzo’s side. Dripping wet, Berk must have swum over from the pirate ship. Anya’s stomach flipped. She should have stayed below deck.