"Indeed, that is so, Jack. We are what we are, and unlikely to change."
CHAPTER 16The Plaza was bustling the next morning as frugal housewives and servants of the gentry did their shopping before the heat became oppressive. A few soldiers lounged near the entrance to the cathedral, and the usual layabouts were sitting and gossiping. They couldn't help but notice that the American sea captain, Burrell, was standing beneath the live oak at the edge of the Plaza, a frustrated look on his face.
"Come down, puss, there's a good kitty!" he called up into the tree's thick leaves, but nothing happened. The tree's leaves shivered in the breeze and sunlight, but there was no other sound from the branches.
A Minorcan fisherman in short jacket and knee breeches stopped to stare up into the tree alongside Jack.
"Problems, senor?”
"My wife's kitten has gone up the tree, the stupid animal, and it won't come down."
The fisherman shrugged. "It is the nature of cats and women to cause problems, senor. They will ever insist on doing things their own way, even if it makes no sense to us."
The two men stood silently, mulling over the perversity of felines and females.
"I do not see—wait, is that it, that patch of red?"
"Yes, she will insist on tying red ribbons 'round its neck. Next she will be dressing it in a baby's outfit. Women!"
By this time more onlookers had arrived, attracted by the sight of two men staring up into tree branches. Once they realized the problem,
all were ready to offer their advice and counsel, asked for or not, and Jack looked around in desperation for some real assistance.
He spotted a barefoot sailor boy on the edge of the crowd. The youngster was wearing a knitted cap, an oversized shirt, and ragged breeches he had yet to grow into. A seabag was flung over his shoulder.
"You there, boy! You look like you could climb the rigging. I'm too large to go up after that kitten, but you could get her down for me."
The boy rudely pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked up into the branches and spat on the ground.
"Yah, so you have a cat in a tree? What's it to me, Cap'n?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. "I will give you a silver half-dime for your own if you climb up and fetch her down."
The boy looked at him out of eyes paled to silver blue in the bright sunlight.
"American coin? Who wants that trash? Now, if you've proper English shillings...!" he sneered.
Some of the British citizens in the crowd responded, "Hear! Hear! You tell that Yankee what's what, boy!"
Captain Burrell's eyes narrowed as he stared down the impudent ragamuffin.
"Very well, just get the cat down!"
The boy approached the tree and studied the massive trunk and arching branches with an expert's eye.
"You'll need to give me a boost up, Cap'n."
Burrell made his hands into a stirrup, and boosted the boy to where he could grab onto the lowest branch. The lad then stood on the captain's shoulders, which gave him enough height to place one slender foot more securely along the branch. Burrell raised his hands and steadied the boy's rump while the other foot sought and found purchase on the rough bark.
"Do you want him to hold your bag while you go after the cat, lad?" one of the onlookers chimed in.
"What, trust my worldly goods to a Yankee? No, tha —yipe?”
"Sorry, lad, my hand slipped there."
The sailor boy scowled down at the American, then turned upward and began to climb with the assurance of youth and the skill of one who'd spent time in tree branches and rigging.
The crowd watched with bated breath, worried either the boy would slip, or the perverse cat would take it into its head to climb higher.
The onlookers thought Captain Burrell looked particularly concerned, his face drawn and tight, sweat streaking his brow. It spoke well of him, they said that he was as worried about a cheeky sailor lad as he would if his own little brother had been the one climbing high.
The crowd watched the rustling of the branches as the boy moved up through the tree, but the live oak's leathery leaves were too thick to allow more than a glimpse of a bare foot, the shadow of the cap, and the boy's soft crooning to the cat as he crept closer and closer to his prize.
Finally there was a furious rustling of leaves, an indrawn breath from the crowd below, and a high voice calling down, "I have her!" The boy shinnied down the branches and when he got to the lowest ones passed his seabag down to the waiting Captain Burrell.
"Careful with that, Cap'n, the cat's in the bag."
"I understand," Burrell said hoarsely, his eyes never leaving the boy. He held up his arms and the lad jumped, and if it looked to the crowd that Captain Burrell hugged the boy a bit fiercely, well, he had his wife's cat back and the lad had put himself at risk for a few shillings on the captain's behalf.
When the lad was set down he opened the bag and pulled out a tabby cat with a ragged red ribbon 'round its neck. The cat appeared to be drowsing, despite all the excitement.
"Poor puss! All worn out from your big adventure," the lad crooned to the kitty. He stroked the cat's neck and looked up at Captain Burrell, his little face alight with mischief.
"I think this is worth more than a shilling or two, Cap'n. Think of how pleased with you your lady wife will be!"
Burrell wiped his hand across his face, then looked sternly down at the boy.
"We had a bargain, boy. Now give me the cat and off with you!"
"That limey lad needs a good thrashing!" someone said in American accents.
"Indeed. I was just thinking the same thing," the captain said. "I will make sure he gets what's coming to him."
But he reached into his pocket and in sight of all the crowd counted out enough coins to make the boy grin and say, "You're a generous man, you are. Thank'ee, Cap'n!"
As the boy passed Burrell the cat and turned to leave, the captain called out, "Boy! My wife would likely want to thank you in person. And you look like you could use a meal. Come with me to my house for dinner."
The boy thought about this for a moment and then agreed dinner at the captain's table didn't sound like a bad idea. The crowd murmured its approval at Captain Burrell's generosity toward the rude youngster, who had rescued the cat but displayed atrocious disrespect to his betters, and wasn't that just the way it was now... and the conversations continued as the onlookers scattered back to their business, and Captain Burrell, the drowsy cat and the sailor boy headed to the Captain's house.
* * *
"That was one of the most frightening things I have ever experienced."
"You weren't the one climbing, Captain."
Sophia grinned up at him and knew her smile was so wide it almost hurt her face. Now that she was safely down from the oak with her treasure clue, there was the feeling she had whenever she won a huge pot of money at gambling, or survived yet another dangerous encounter.
Or kissed Lucky Jack Burrell.
She pushed that last thought from her mind to focus instead on the task at hand, opening the clues to the gold.
Senora Alvarez's cat was placed on a hearthrug where it settled down with a sleepy purr to dream laudanum-laced visions of mice. Sophia put the weathered package tied with a red ribbon on the table. She was prepared to rip it open with her teeth, if necessary, but a hand on her arm stopped her.
"You're limping. Before we do anything else, we need to tend to your feet."
"But Jack, the clues—"
"Were in that tree for years and can wait a while longer while you tend to your scratches."
"How can you be so prosaic? You are a privateer, not a...a...an apothecary!"
"Cut-up feet can become infected. Besides, you don't want to be delayed in our hunt for the treasure while your feet heal, do you? I might have to leave you behind if you can't keep up."
To forestall further argument, he simply lifted her in his arms and carried her to the kitchen. Luisa Alvarez was gone for the da
y, but a kettle of water was still warm. Jack placed Sophia in a chair and then
gathered a basin, water, soap, and clean rags.
Sophia watched him, finding the sight of such a well-formed man doing simple housewifely tasks entertaining. And oddly arousing.
"You are a useful person to have around, Lucky Jack."
He flashed her a quick smile as he rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands.
"A ship's captain has to deal with all sorts of situations and it's best to be prepared. Sometimes when there's no surgeon available at sea it falls on the only person aboard ship who can read to make out what the bottles of medicine are for."
He knelt at Sophia's feet and looked critically at them before pulling her left foot into the basin of soapy water.
Sophia sucked in a deep breath and gripped the seat of the chair.
"I know it stings," Jack said, sympathy lacing his voice, "but you do not want to neglect your feet, Sophia. We will be doing a great deal of walking and you need to be in good condition." He wiped gently at the soles, examining each scrape for debris and gently blotting where blood beaded up in the deeper scratches.
"I could use someone with your skills aboard ship, Sophia. Where did you learn to climb so well?"
She bit her lip to keep from crying out when he touched a tender spot.
"When the remaining apples of the fall harvest are at the top of the tree, you either climb, or you go hungry. I preferred to climb."
The cloth wiping gently around her heel paused, and then resumed as he rinsed off the soap.
"You have not had an easy life, have you?"
Sophia shrugged. "There are those with lives worse off. My father, for all his ramshackle ways did care for me, and most of the time we had sufficient food and fuel for our fires."
"You weren't tempted at all by Lord Whitfield's offer to take you into his home? Certainly it would have been easier than working in a bookstore."
She looked at him sharply, but the sun-streaked head was still bent over her foot, his lean brown hands handling her like a delicate piece of chinaware.
"I value my independence, Captain."
He had started on the other foot, and now looked up at her. "Of course. All little cats do."
She would have taken umbrage at being called a "little cat" but
drew her breath in sharply when he brushed against the ball of her foot.
"I think a splinter is wedged in there," Jack said, eyeing her foot closely. He pulled up on it and Sophia held onto the chair to keep from sliding forward into the water.
"Yes, I can just see it."
"Can you pull it out?"
"Hold still, this may sting."
And then Jack stunned Sophia by leaning forward and putting his mouth on her foot. She felt an instant's sensation of warmth and a tickle as his lips brushed against the sole, and then with a tug the splinter was out.
"Got it," Jack said, removing the wood from between his teeth.
Sophia cleared her throat. "I have never seen a splinter removed like that."
"You have to be careful who you do that with. Some people misunderstand your intentions. In fact, I think I see another—"
He leaned forward, and Sophia watched, stunned, as Jack took her toes inside his mouth and sucked on them, running his warm tongue around the edges, bathing them in sensation.
It should have tickled, but it instead felt as if there were nerves in her toes connected to areas in her body far removed from her feet, most noticeably nerves in her belly and between her legs. She could feel it in her scalp, and in her own fingertips as she released her death grip on the chair to touch Jack's hair, shining in the sunlight coming through the kitchen doors.
"I was scared to death when I saw you moving higher into that tree," Jack said hoarsely, raising his head. "One slip and—" He didn't finish but kissed his way along her instep, back to her heel, and then onto her ankles and the sensitive spot where her ankle bone jutted out, and she felt a shiver of heat run down her spine. Jack still had that tight expression around his eyes she'd seen when she came down from the tree into his arms. Was he truly worried about her?
She didn't need Jack Burrell worried about her. She didn't want anyone worrying about her. It was better that way.
"Jack, did I not tell you there was noth—"
Her words were cut off when he stood and grabbed her out of the chair, pulling her up against him as the water spilled onto the floor and sloshed over her feet, unheeded. She could feel him vibrating with tension against her body, every muscle taut, and his mouth on hers was hard and tasted of salt and maybe a touch of his fear for her.
But then his tongue was seeking entrance between her lips and with a sigh she let him in, her arms tightening around his neck, her hands threading through his hair. He took his time, exploring her mouth, learning what made her shiver, what brought her breath gasping, the little noises from deep in her throat.
When he lifted his head, she saw his eyes glitter in sunlight and his face was grim.
"No more games, Sophia. I am not waiting a moment longer, fearing what crazy stunt will send you crashing to your doom."
And this time Sophia felt it, too, the urgency of the blood coursing through her veins after risking her life in the climb.
Jack didn't wait for her acquiescence but lifted her in his arms, effortlessly carrying her up the staircase and kicking the door open to the bedroom. The mosquito bar was pulled back, the net framing the head of the oversized bed like a bower designed for lovers. He threw her on the middle of the bed and she bounced lightly, the bed ropes creaking as he sat alongside her, yanking off his boots before climbing atop her, framing her face with his rough hands, covering her in kisses—her brows, her eyes, the corners of her mouth, waiting for her soft gasp before seeking the inside of her mouth again, ramping up the heat between them with his skilled lips, his hands pulling apart her shirt and sending the buttons flying.
He lifted his head from where he was ravaging her mouth and she dazedly murmured, "But I don't even like you, Jack!"
"You like me well enough for this, little cat," and then she couldn't speak anymore because his lips were on hers again, gliding across her mouth, coaxing from her a response she didn't know she had inside her.
She could tell herself it was the danger of the climbing, and their forced proximity, and the fact they were both healthy young animals, but the truth was she wanted this with every fiber of her being.
Her arms were around his neck, holding onto him and freeing his hands to move down to her thighs, easing them apart and allowing him to move in closer to her. When his body came into contact with hers, she gasped into his mouth and rather than pull away, moved a fraction closer. Only a few thin layers of cloth separated them, and she could feel him as he throbbed against her, and she responded with little noises deep in her throat when he began to rock against her, his hand under her hips pulling her closer.
Sophia's lips broke away from his and she shakily pulled in a breath of air, only to let it out on a squeak when his free hand moved up under the boy's shirt to cup her breast. The noise of approval he made deep in his throat told her he didn't think her bosom was too small...but she wasn't going to dwell on that now, not when it felt so good to have Jack cup her in his palm.
"Perfect. You feel perfect in my hands, Sophia. Let me see..."
He pulled the shirt off over her head, blinding her for a moment before she blinked in the light streaming into the room.
"Jack!" She gasped as his thumb played over her nipple, her body responding to his caresses, to remembering what it felt like to be touched and receive pleasure from another, the arousal, the sensitivity, the blood rushing through her, the arrow of fire arcing down from her lips to her womb. Even as her body came alive with the remembrance of the heat of passion, she could tell there was an edge to Jack's lovemaking. An undercurrent of tension and stress mixed in with the passion and fanning it higher, making his caresses just a touch more forcef
ul, more dangerous.
And she liked it. She reveled in this knife's blade edge of passion, rousing her in a fashion her body recognized, even if her mind did not.
Jack might still want to shoot her someday, especially when their journey came to an end and he discovered the truth, but for now his focus was totally on her, not the treasure, and she could use these stolen moments to allow herself to let go and focus on her own needs, and her own desires that had nothing to do with the gold.
He broke from his exploration of her body to unbutton her breeches. He slid his hand inside, groaning when he found her wet core. His fingers glided slickly over her, spreading their heat, but he paused where he toyed at the entrance.
"Sophia? Is this your first time? I don't want to hurt you," he said huskily.
She took a deep breath. "It is not my first time."
He stopped and looked deeply into her eyes for a moment that stretched until she could hear her own heart beat, and finally a smile curled the corners of his lips.
"Then we will both enjoy this."
He pulled her clothes off and tossed them aside, then pulled his own clothing off, racing through the motions while Sophia watched him, but when she moved her hands up to cover herself he frowned at her.
"Leave your hands at your side, Sophia. After all this time and aggravation I deserve a good look."
She would have taken issue with his orders had he not climbed back into bed, his long body hovering over hers as he resumed kissing her, moving his fingers in circles down to where she was aching for a release.
"I know you like this, little cat. I remember how you made the hammock rock."
"Stop talking and...aaaahh!"
She arched against the long finger slipping inside her and dimly heard his chuckle through the blood pounding through her head.
"Anything to please a lady."
He coaxed her legs farther apart and braced his forearms alongside her head, lowering his own head for one more drugging kiss while he fitted himself to her, easing in just enough to frustrate her and make her dig her nails into his back, letting him know this wasn't nearly enough.
The Bride and the Buccaneer Page 17
