The Bride and the Buccaneer

by Darlene Marshall

  about how the turning wheel of fortune can put a woman within arm's

  reach and still make her inaccessible.

  * * *

  When Sophia awoke she felt warm arms holding her close, a large body molded to her spine, and a stiff prod at her backside letting her know her husband was awake, or at least parts of him were, and it would be prudent to carefully disengage herself from his embrace.

  She'd never slept next to a man before and never fully appreciated the implications of waking up alongside a healthy young male. She knew enough that a man who was aroused had a mind focused on one thing only, and some distance between them would be a good thing.

  When she tried to move farther to her side of the bed, however, strong arms pulled her back and a voice rumbled in her ear, "Good morning, wife."

  "Good morning, Captain Burrell," she replied without turning around in his arms. "We should arise because the maid will be in here to light the fire."

  He snickered in her ear and said, "This is Florida, madam, and most of the year a fire in the room is neither necessary nor desirable. You can lie here a moment longer."

  "Why?"

  "Because I like holding you in my arms. Don't you like being held?"

  She thought about this for a space, and then answered him honestly. "I do not know if I like it. It is an unusual feeling."

  "Unusual good, or bad?"

  Bad, she wanted to say, because it makes me want to have you hold me more.

  "Different. This pretending to be married will take some adjustment."

  "We are not pretending, Mrs. Burrell," he growled. "Like it or not, we are married—at least until we can confirm the legality of the ceremony."

  "Or until one of us leaves," Sophia said.

  Jack's arms tightened about her. "You are not leaving, little cat, not until this mad quest is finished."

  "As you say, Captain. What is important is finding the treasure. And we cannot do that if we are lolling in bed all day."

  This time when she tugged herself out of his arms he let her go, with a sigh.

  "Do you never take time just to have some fun, Sophia?"

  "Not when there is a treasure in gold and silver waiting for me to find it. Or have you forgotten others may be searching for Garvey's Gold as well?"

  She looked over her shoulder. Jack had rolled over and was lying on his side, his head propped on his hand. The pose brought into sharp definition the muscled chest and shoulders, and she hurriedly turned away from the temptation to crawl back under the covers with him and see if she could adjust her life to include some morning cuddling.

  When Sophia returned to the bedroom Jack was up and getting dressed, but he paused to ask her how she was feeling this morning.

  "I am well, as promised, Captain. I do want to go out and see the city."

  "Do not raise your expectations too high, Sophia. You will find it is more of a large village than a city."

  "But it is still more to see than aboard ship, and I would enjoy stretching my legs."

  "That I can understand," Jack said with a quick grin.

  That smile was almost as dangerous as seeing his near-naked form in the bed, and Sophia called over her shoulder, "I will meet you in the parlor for breakfast," before exiting the bedroom.

  Jack may have been less than impressed by St. Augustine, but Sophia was charmed by the small city surrounded by old walls and guarded by a massive fort looming over the harbor. It was indeed a multinational enclave attracting travelers from all over the world, Irish soldiers in the pay of Spain, French traders, Swiss and Minorcan settlers, African slaves, and the flotsam of the Caribbean. Harried representatives of the Church were busy keeping souls on the right track, educating the young, and participating in saints' days and fiestas that took the peoples' minds off their troubles for a space.

  There were still signs of the British occupation of the city but the overall flavor was Spanish, reflected in the cooking smells coming from behind garden walls, the dress of the inhabitants, and the languages spoken in the Plaza. She saw fierce Indians, some of whom looked more African than Indian, and Jack explained the "maroons" were those blacks and children of blacks who'd gone to live in the woods and savannahs, either as the Indians' slaves or as runaways from their white masters.

  "There is tension building between the whites and the Indians, and the maroons are a large part of that," Jack said. "Georgians raid into Florida to recapture runaway slaves, and the Indians resist attempts to make off with not just their property, but oftentimes their wives and children. And then there are settlers itching for more land and thinking they'd do well going South instead of West."

  Sophia put the plight of the Indians out of her mind as she examined the items on sale in the Plaza market. It was a far cry from the quality of goods brought into Portsmouth, but after weeks aboard ship the novelty of it enticed her. There was Spanish silver and Indian beadwork, veils of fine lace woven by nuns, and silks and muslins fresh off the ships from Europe. Deerskins were for sale, and tooled leather goods, and the varied produce of a land rich in sunshine and warmth.

  Jack paused to haggle with an ancient Indian selling a variety of animal skins and woven baskets and when he rejoined her she was examining some leather sandals. He seemed satisfied with the day's work.

  "Those skins Billy Panther's selling will fetch a good price up the coast. I can store them at Roberts's house until we're ready to leave."

  "You like being a merchant captain, don't you?" Sophia asked him.

  Jack thought about it for a moment, then nodded as he took her arm and brought her over to a vendor selling lemonade kept cool in a crock floating in water. They each sipped the drink while watching the activity around them.

  "I do enjoy being a merchant, the buying and selling of goods," he said. "My father expected I would take over the family's lands, but it wasn't a life that suited me. My brother is better capable and more interested, and I am happy to leave him in charge."

  "What will your family make of your marriage, Jack?"

  "Our marriage, Sophia." He scowled as he turned his pottery mug around in his hand before returning it to the lemonade seller. "My mother will be pleased I have married, and I have no doubt they will find you..."

  "Entertaining? Larcenous? Beyond the pale?"

  "No, none of those things! You are my wife, Sophia, so I am sure they will find you all that is proper."

  She just shook her head at his naiveté.

  "Oh, Jack, for a man so well traveled, you can be a true innocent. Your mother will be horrified when she learns my background. Your friends will offer you sympathy at being linked to a woman with such a

  disreputable upbringing."

  "Do you truly see yourself that way?" Jack took her hand and led her into the shade of a tall oak, the temperature dropping noticeably once they were out of the bright sun. "I think for all your unconventional upbringing you forget you are the daughter of a gentleman, and you can hold your own in any gathering, from dinner with pirates to the governor's assembly."

  Sophia looked at him, a long considering glance. He was half in shadow as the leaves rustled overhead, and his eyes picked up the color of the surroundings, green and brown mixing into a warm blend that was entirely Lucky Jack Burrell.

  "You are coming to believe this marriage of ours is all too real. You do not need to worry about what your family will say, for it is still my intention to take the money from the treasure and lead my own life."

  Jack said nothing, but from the way his jaw tightened she knew he was thinking she was deluded. He was the one living in a fairy tale if he thought she would align herself with an American sea captain who'd give up land for the life of a merchant, a man easily led astray by a pretty face, and too much a slave to his scruples. At his core, there was little of the highwayman in him, which was a shame. The highwayman, had amused her. Jack Burrell was just a nice man, and people like that,

  in her experience, never got ahead in life.
<
br />   * * *

  "Are you ready?"

  Sophia looked up from where she was buttoning her glove.

  "If I am going to stay in St. Augustine I will have to hire a maid. Mrs. Alvarez's niece did well this evening, but she had to go home."

  "She did well, but she had excellent material to work with."

  Sophia favored him with a smile at the compliment, and knew without false modesty that she did indeed look her best. The gown of ice blue satin was almost austere in its lack of embellishment, but die would have been lost in ruffles and furbelows. The cream-colored stripes running down the skirt gave an illusion of height, helped by her heeled slippers. She paused in front of her mirror to adjust one of the curls Rosa had arranged across her forehead, then joined Captain Burrell, who was lounging in the doorway.

  "I will be the envy of all the gentlemen this evening, Mrs. Burrell."

  Sophia felt she could say the same about being the envy of the ladies. Jack's severe black-and-white clothes showed the hand of an expert tailor, but then the tailor, too, had good material to work with. The breadth of Jack's shoulders owed nothing to padding, and his pantaloons showcased as fine a male form as she'd ever seen.

  The image of a naked Jack flashed into her mind, as it did all too often, and she tried to push it away.

  Sophia told herself it didn't matter if her pretend husband caught the dark-eyed gaze of a Spanish maiden. If she wanted to claw those eyes out, it was only because what was hers, she kept. And until they found the gold, Lucky Jack was hers.

  "Yes, I am ready now." Sophia picked up her India paisley shawl from the bed and joined her husband at the door.

  He arranged the shawl around her shoulders and then asked abruptly, "Are those pearls the only jewels you own?"

  Sophia touched her mother's pearls at her neck.

  "Yes, they are. But they suit all occasions and I like them well because they belonged to my mother."

  "You should have more," Jack said.

  Sophia looked up at him, and he was frowning. "Do not be silly, Jack. You can sell jewelry, but hard currency is better for daily life. One can spend it, or invest it. Jewels just look pretty."

  As they walked down the stairs she could see Jack thinking about what she'd said. When he reached the bottom he turned up and looked at her.

  "So when you get your share of Garvey's Gold you aren't going to spend it on jewels and such?"

  Sophia made an unladylike noise some would call a snort. "Do not be foolish, Jack. I will buy land and property with my money. That is something of real value! Handled properly, it brings returns many times over the initial investment."

  "Is that what you did with the money you stole from me?"

  "Stolen from Lord Whitfield, rather. You were just the courier who conveyed it to me."

  She gave him a sunny smile as they stepped out into the street and she took his arm. It was a short walk to the governor's residence, and a mild evening. Sophia's shawl was more for fashion than protection from the night air, air perfumed with the fragrance of the blooming orange trees and pots of jasmine vines growing behind the courtyard walls.

  "But to answer your question, I needed that money to live on with

  Annie and start our business. I still have a stake in the bookstore, but it is not enough to have one property, one must have a cushion against disaster. And besides, I am only part owner of the bookstore. I want my own property."

  "That's not an unworthy aspiration, Mrs. Burrell. Having property, whether land or ships, is the key to living a comfortable life. But there's more to life."

  "Is there?" Sophia murmured. "I find, Captain, only those who lead comfortable lives spout sayings like 'there's more to life than money.' I prefer to investigate these things for myself."

  They'd arrived at the governor's home, a private residence since Government House was now used for official business. Lanterns were hung in the well-kept patio, and voices drifted out from an interior awash with light and color. The younger Spanish ladies sported vividly bright silks and satins while their black-clad duennas sat against the wall and gossiped about everyone while bemoaning the lax standards of the younger generation in general and Americans in particular.

  The officers from the castille were gleaming in braid and decorations, and the merchants and planters mingled freely in a babe of languages, Spanish, English and French for the most part, with the Irish accents of the Hibernian regiment adding to the linguistic mix. St Augustine's troublesome harbor kept it from becoming the bustling port that Fernandina was, but it also helped protect it against seabone invaders. So the people there went about their lives, making a living a various trades and shifting with the political vagaries of life on the edge of nations scrabbling for control. Being able to speak four or five languages was an asset in the polyglot community.

  For now, though, it was a night for Sophia to enjoy herself, he hand on the arm of a man she had to freely admit outshone all others appearance and demeanor. There were handsome Spaniards, but next t her American spouse they looked too swarthy to her eyes. There were red-faced Irishmen sweltering in the tropical heat, and hardened frontier planters and traders, and a few other seamen, but nothing compared to Lucky Jack Burrell.

  That thought almost brought her up short as they passed from the courtyard into the house. When did this man whose firm arm rested beneath her fingertips start making her pulse race?

  She strove to put the thought from her head and concentrate on who she was really there, to see if more clues regarding Garvey's Go could be deciphered. She knew there was something in St. Augustin that would lead her to the next step on the treasure hunt, but she had to figure out what and where that clue was.

  They were presented to the governor, and to Sophia's eyes he appeared worn down by his administrative duties, and no wonder, dealing with revolutionaries in Fernandina, disgruntled Indians to the west and south, and Americans encroaching everywhere. Governor Coppinger was pleased to see Jack Burrell, and greeted him fondly. He seemed especially pleased to meet Sophia.

  "I hope you can talk this gentleman into settling in St. Augustine, Mrs. Burrell. We need more men like him in Florida—levelheaded men of business."

  "What the governor really means is, men who won't be a drag on the local economy," Jack whispered in her ear as they walked away. "Scoundrels of all stripes come to Florida hoping to make their fortune, and most end up just causing trouble for the authorities."

  "Unlike us, who will make our fortune and ideally never come under the eyes of the authorities," Sophia said, bestowing a gracious smile on a matron who nodded in her direction. Many of the older women with daughters of marriageable age were less than pleased to see the new Mrs. Burrell. Captain Burrell was considered a fine catch, even if he was a heretic and an American. Much could be overlooked when a man was prosperous.

  "Jack Burrell! It has been an age since I've seen you!"

  "Sophia, I would like to introduce you to Zephaniah Kingsley, one of our prominent residents. Zephaniah, my wife, Sophia Deford Burrell. How is your family, Zephaniah?

  The Lilliputian plantation owner beamed. He was barely taller than Sophia, aided in his case by Spanish boots with heels raising him up.

  "Anna and the wives are doing well, Jack, and the children are growing up tall and strong. You have to come up and visit us, and bring your lovely wife with you."

  "I will keep the invitation in mind, Zephaniah. Your hospitality is a byword on the river."

  The smaller man preened himself again and expressed his congratulations to Jack on his marriage. As they excused themselves, Sophia's curiosity got the best of her.

  "Did Mr. Kingsley say 'wives'?"

  "Zephaniah lives by his own rules. He has multiple wives, though Anna Jai is chief among them and a sizable landowner in her own right. The Spanish consider her a heroine of the recent war for her efforts in keeping the Americans out. However, Anna and the other wives are African, and it isn't always comfortable for her to go o
ut into social situations. Especially when there are Americans present, who tend to take a dim view of these arrangements."

  "You are an American."

  "I am, but maybe because I have traveled more than many of my fellow Georgians, it gives me a broader perspective."

  By this time the band had begun to play the dance music and sets were forming up in the parlor, cleared of furniture and rugs, the wood floors gleaming in the lantern and candlelight. Jack led his wife out in the first dance, then passed her on to the governor who helped her navigate a lively Spanish folk dance.

  Sophia never lacked for partners, while her husband cut a swath through the ladies, and she relaxed into an evening pleasurable for its own sake. She didn't expect to hear anything that would give her a clue as to Garvey's Gold, for Jack had already warned her that it was treated as a tavern tale, so she resigned herself to just having fun.

  By the time they adjourned for supper, Sophia was using her fan for more than fashion. The evening was cooler than the day, but the air was still heavy. Young boys pulled cords to operate fans at the ceiling, stirring the close air perfumed with the smells of cooking, liquor, and people sweating up a good time.

  When Jack offered Sophia a glass of wine, she asked for a lemonade instead, relishing what had quickly become her favorite Florida drink. Never having lived where lemons grew in abundance, she intended to grab every opportunity to enjoy the treat.

  The tables of the supper room groaned beneath haunches of venison, pork pastries, shrimp, and fresh mullet. The rice and corn were from nearby farms, and the squashes and vegetables were seasoned with the hot peppers the locals loved. Cheeses imported from Europe and pastries and custards using seasonal fruit finished off the feast. As they exited the room, Sophia remarked to Jack that whatever else could be said about the residents of St. Augustine, they knew how to have a good time.

  "Indeed." Jack smiled. "It's a shame you weren't here during Carnival, for then the town goes into a frenzy of dances and celebrations. But if we are here for the Feast of St. John in the summer you will—"

  "You! Lucky Jack!"

  They were brought up short by a man who stepped into their path as