She could dance with him all night.
“Excuse me, Capt’n.” A swarthy buccaneer stood in the cave entrance.
The music died. Willie broke off in mid-chorus. Sam stood. Blade let go of her, his smile wiped clean.
“What is it, Cromby?”
“The men, they haven’t made it back,” Cromby said. A look of concern creased his frown. “But there is a glow in the sky, northwest of here, over the ridge. Maybe a large fire.”
Blade snatched his sword and tied it back on to his waist. The urgency of him rearming himself skittered curdling dread down Marisol’s spine. Something was very wrong.
“And the Rissa?” Blade said. “What’s the word?”
“Repairs are done, sir.”
“Good. Willie, make the ship ready. Chances are we will sail sooner than planned. Sam, Henri, get the men on alert and ready for any action. Cromby, grab a few hands. We’re going to see what’s going on.”
Blade spat out his orders in rapid fire and his crew rushed in a flurry of excitement to do what was required of them.
He turned to her and, in an instant, stood inches from her. Taking her hand, he planted a firm kiss to it. The warmth of his lips branded her skin. Intense eyes rose to meet hers. “We will dance again, dove. I promise.”
The low timbre of his words, the force of his stare, melted her insides. Quite suddenly, panic reared up. She didn’t want to be apart from him. The very idea constricted in her breast.
“Stay here, in the cave.”
She expected him to say that, but she shook her head. “I want to come with you.”
“You’ll be safe here.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“The cave’s well hidden. No need to worry.”
Worry? Did he not hear her? “I said I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not. You’ll stay here where it is safe.”
“But—”
“That’s an order.”
“An order? You can’t order me—”
“I can and I did.” His impatience built in the hemming of his brow. “Have you forgotten that I bartered for you? You are mine to do with as I wish.”
“I’m not a possession to be owned.”
“I say you are.” His jaw squared and grim gloom tinted his darkening eyes. “And if I have to spend you like a piece of eight to keep you safe, I will.”
A snap of rage exploded within her and she swung at him. He caught her wrist before making contact. She snarled and spit in his face.
With eerie calm, he dabbed at his cheek. “This is not child’s play, Marisol. You will stay here.” He turned and left her standing in the middle of the grotto.
She called after him. “Bastard!”
She sank down on a hard rock. The corked pitcher of rum lay nearby. Just what she needed to clear her mind and sulk. If it had been Alain ordering her to stay put, by now she’d be making her plan to disobey him. Perhaps she’d already be out the door. Why wasn’t she doing the same now? She simmered. There wasn’t much she could do but wait. The beach swarmed with his men. It would be foolish to set off on her own. If she caught up to Blade, he’d probably send her back with an escort, or two. And that was a big “if.” With the dangers of the island at every turn, and those damned cacti, she couldn’t possibly find her way in the dark.
“Damn him.”
* * *
Half the rum was gone when she first became alerted to a noise outside. Leaves rustled like crumpled paper and the vine curtain shook. She plugged the bottle.
“Sam? Is that you?”
No answer.
The leaves stirred again. Marisol reached for her knife tucked in her waistband. But she’d forgotten Blade took it. Damn him! Twice! Raising the flagon above her head, she moved toward the entry and steadied herself, ready to deliver a crunching blow to any unwelcome guest.
A man burst through the vines, flourishing a pistol. Impulse kicked in and she smashed the flagon over the intruder’s head. The ting of the metal reverberated in her hand, causing vibrations to tickle her fingertips. The man swiveled his head and fell to his knees.
“Monte? Oh dear Lord, Monte!”
His eyes rolled around, wavering in a dizzy fog. “Ooh. Whaddya do that for?” He rubbed at the top of his head.
She helped him to his feet. “You’re not dead.”
Her little brother stood before her, alive and well. Maybe not well with the big knot growing on the crown of his head, but as sure as the sea was deep, there he stood living and breathing. She squeezed him in a hug, hardly able to believe it.
“You tryin’ to suffocate me? Let go.” He shrugged away from her embrace, bristling something fierce.
Monte was much like their father. He kept his hair shorter, of course, a mop of unruly curls. He had a slighter build, too. But the similarities didn’t come from appearances. Rather, their likenesses emerged in their mannerisms.
He straightened his jacket and gave her the same reprimanding look Alain did every time her father had to clean up any mess she’d created. She dismissed Monte the same as she dismissed Alain—come what may.
“I thought you were dead. The hurricane. The Gloria, it was destroyed. How? How did you survive? How is it you are here?”
A grin slunk up one side of his mouth. “It takes more than a temperamental briny drink to take me down. I’m invincible.”
Arrogant. Just like Alain. She crammed down the urge to chuckle, but her smirk gave her away.
“Don’t mock me, sister.”
Marisol had not heard him speak with such malice before. His icy words sent a chill surging through her blood. She read the rancor in his murky eyes and could not recall them being so dark, almost black. In the dim light, long shadows lengthened across his angular face. He was too much like Alain and his threat alarmed her.
“Of course not.” She fumbled to regain poise. “It’s only that you used to say you were invincible when we were children. You remember. You’d stand on ole James Mason’s fishing house with your wooden sword—” she paused, grinning, “—fighting pirates.”
The spite furrowing deep in his scowl loosened. “Ironic, isn’t it? But then who could blame the useless musings of a stupid boy?”
He picked up the flagon from the cave floor. “Weren’t you the one pretending to be the pirates? A pirate queen, correct?” He opened the cork and pulled from the drink.
“Aye. When Luc wasn’t insisting I act a governess instead.”
“Phff.” Monte wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “He took the joy out of it.”
Luc had always played the hero. At least until Monte would sit square in the middle of the footpath and squall like a wee babe. Monte wanted to be the dashing swashbuckler. But even when Luc conceded to be the villain for their little brother, he still wielded his sticks and make-believe pistols with grace and gallantry, often over-dramatizing his defeat by Monte. He’d clutched at his chest from where Monte had inflicted his imaginary fatal wound, spun around several times, flung an arm out before collapsing to the dirt, and let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth. Monte hated it, complaining real people didn’t die that way. Marisol and Luc would laugh to near hysterics till their pouting Monte would crack and join in the hilarity.
She missed those gay times betwixt them. She missed Luc. He would always be her hero.
“Those were good times,” she said.
“We were ignorant. Pretending to be something we were not.”
“We were children. Play acting is natural. We worked hard to help Mama keep us fed and clothed. The games made us happy.”
“You forget, sister, we starved and she barely kept a stitch on our bodies.” He shook his head.
Marisol struggled to understand his disappointment. Certainly, they had lived hand-to-mouth and there were times they were forced to wear clothes they had long out-grown. But Mama gave them a roof over their heads and a bed to sleep in at night. And love, plenty of love. She had no complaints and ne
ither should he. “Look at us, Monte. We made out fine.”
His demeanor changed. Boyish softness, if not for the weathered roughness, returned to his face.
“You’re right.” He pulled her into a hug. “More than you know.”
Harried voices carried in from the beach. A call came for extinguishing the fires. The men outside were ready for their next orders.
“We need to go,” Monte said.
“Go? Go where? Why would we need to go? Wait. Tyburn doesn’t know you’re here?” She realized he hadn’t answered her earlier question. “How did you get to this island?”
He smiled as if humoring a child. “Dear sister. The storm blew us all into the middle of the Mona Passage.”
Monte raised his eyebrows, indicating that his reply should be good enough for her. It wasn’t. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I came when I saw the Rissa on the horizon. It wasn’t hard to find you, watching Tyburn and his men from a nearby outcropping.” Hushing her with his hand before she spoke, he tilted his head and listened to the noises outside. “We must go.”
“Why? We’re safe here.”
“Safe from whom?”
“Well, I…I don’t know. ’Tis something amiss farther up the coast. Tyburn has gone to investigate. Moreover, the mystery ship that attacked the Sablewing is still out there.” She gasped at a sudden awareness. “What if the mystery ship is here?”
“Ha. Mystery ship, you say. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that your safety would be in jeopardy with Captain Tyburn as long as he has a nameless adversary prowling after his silver? He’s tenacious and will insist on engaging his enemy.”
“You’re losing me. What is wrong with that?”
He exhaled an irritable sigh. “Damn it, Marisol. I know you think going into battle is an adventure, but it is not. It’s horrific. You fear for your life. The fear controls you. You taste it, breathe it, it courses through you like venom.”
His gaze shifted. He curled his lip and stared into the recesses of the cave. Pain swirled within the depths of his eyes and she suspected his nightmare at Matanzas replayed in his mind with vicious clarity. “You fight but there are too many. Weakened, you run, you hide, a wretched coward. Caught, you stare down the barrel of a gun, not ready to meet your maker. You mess your pants, lose all dignity. They laugh at you, call you worthless, weak, and should be fed on your mama’s pap. If you live, they beat you like a mangy dog until you wish they would finish you off.”
The horror of his suffering she could never imagine. It plagued her mind to know of his pain. Guilt beleaguered her and the anger toward Alain for not returning to rescue his youngest son devoured the tears forming in her eyes.
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes flitted down to her hand then up to latch on to hers. “There’s no glory there for you. Would you rather die beside an egotistical rogue or come with me, your flesh and blood, to live out your destiny.”
With Monte alive, Marisol had no reason to join in the folly of chasing Blade’s mystery ship. What she had wanted, the reason for her reckless behavior, stood right in front of her. Vengeance over Monte’s death had vanished like a raindrop in the sea as soon as he stepped through the cave door. Retaliation was worthless to her now.
Yet, she couldn’t leave Blade, not without an explanation, not without a goodbye. In truth, she wasn’t certain she wanted to leave Blade at all. The blush of springtime in her heart when he approached, the nest of comfort he cosseted when he held her, and her sensation of completeness when she stood beside him. These were newfound emotions and she had merely begun to welcome them.
“There’s no time, Marisol. They won’t let you leave. He won’t let you leave.” He held out his hand. “We must go, now.”
“Monte…”
“Now, Marisol. Come with me.”
Her mind reeled. She had no choice. The challenge in his expression warned that she may never see him again if she dared stay. He had come for her, unlike how she failed to rescue him at Matanzas. Marisol would not forsake him again. They would be together, a broken family no more.
She took his hand.
Monte drew his pistol. He used the muzzle to pull back the vine door enough to peer out. Looking over his shoulder, she saw that most of the men were off to the far right of the beach, far enough away that she and Monte could dash out into the darkness undetected.
Breezy sea air ruffled her clothes but did little to cool the duplicity of her departure. She wished there had been another way. The budding affection for her irresistible pirate shriveled inside her racing heart. To be with her brother, she must sever ties with Blade. He would be angry, of that she had no doubt. No man tolerated defiance. She had a scar or two which proved it. But never would she fault Blade for scorning her. Their intimacy went beyond hasty trysts. He had whispered secrets only bestowed between lovers. Now, as she left his camp behind, she imagined how hurt and betrayed he would feel.
She felt sick.
Perhaps they would meet again. She could plead for his understanding. That glimmer of hope, to one day meet him again, was worth holding on to. He may yet forgive her.
At least she had been able to return his cameo. The treasured trinket kept him sound. Lucky man. She had nothing but another memory, sure to vex many sleepless nights. She sighed.
Monte pulled her along to the steep slope leading up to the plateau. In the dark, it loomed high and promised peril.
Eyeing the incline, she whispered her concern. “Isn’t there another way?”
“Aye. But those men back there are blocking the passage.”
The climb became more hazardous since the sun disappeared into the western ocean. Had someone greased the blasted slope with cooking fat? Without the benefit of light, Marisol made a sloppy effort to scale the unsafe path without falling. Loose earth slid from beneath each footfall. Her fingers smarted from soil and pebbles embedded deep under her fingernails. Dust swirled behind Monte’s ascent, causing dirt to sting her eyes. She choked on the grime coating the inside of her throat and, in an attempt to steady herself, grabbed an unstable rock. It tumbled free, rolling and bouncing down the embankment, dislodging other rocks on its way down. She cringed as the stones bashed and cracked together on the sandy beach below.
Monte groaned. “I verily believe you to be a devil’s curse. You’ve alerted them.” He climbed faster. “Move!”
A glance back confirmed they had indeed been spotted. Sam and a lad bearing a torch ran to the base of the rising footpath. The firelight clearly displayed Sam’s disappointment. He drew his pistol.
Madre de Dios, what have I done?
The weight of her actions hit her with astonishing force, rendering her certain that Blade would have her killed should she try to escape. But hadn’t they gone past that? Wasn’t she something more than spoils plucked from her father’s ship? For God’s sake, she wouldn’t make a decent serving wench, anyway.
What was worse was the danger she put Monte in.
“Come on, sister, before you’re picked off the hillside.” Pebbles nipped at her cheeks as he scuttled up the path.
She risked another quick look at Sam. Hanging by a moment, she took in a full breath of brackish air, listened to the gentle song of the waves and waited. Waited for the blast of the gun.
But Sam lowered his weapon, slowly shaking his head.
The loss of Sam’s respect stung worse than any flogging.
Marisol scrambled the rest of the way to the top. Monte helped her scale the last few paces and she bent over, hands on her knees, to catch her breath in her burning chest. She filled her lungs with the fresh air rising in a mild shoot up the ridge. Beyond a peninsular part of the island, a dusky light flushed the sky. That must’ve been the fire Cromby spoke of and the direction Blade and his band of men traveled.
Monte peeked over the edge. “They’re not following us. Dirty, chicken-hearted fools.” Patting her back, he walked past, into the dark ahead. H
is form silhouetted against the faint orange haze. He, too, headed for the distant glow. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
“Wait.” She lifted a finger, not ready to push on, but Monte ignored her request.
She trotted to catch up to him. “If they’re not coming for us, what’s the hurry?”
“We need to get back to my ship. The crew is waiting to weigh anchor.”
That didn’t make sense. The Gloria broke up in the storm, thrashed to mere fragments of splintered planks and rags of canvas. There was nothing left of the ship he captained. “Your ship?”
“Aye. My ship.”
Marisol pulled him to a stop. “You don’t have a ship.”
He lifted his brow but chose not to reply. She pressed on.
“How did you make it through the hurricane? Were you picked up by another vessel? Were there other survivors?” Please let there be other survivors. Blade would be glad to hear of news that some of his crew made it out alive.
A smile twisted the tips of Monte’s lips.
Nighttime creatures chirped from the nearby grasses. Foliage from the palms and leafy trees fluttered with the wisps of wind blowing across the terrain. But his silence lingered. A harbinger of doubt scratched the walls of her perception. Not all was as it seemed. Monte skipped around her every question, being vague if not downright nasty. Whatever his reason, she didn’t have a good feeling about it.
“Well? Speak me the truth.”
He snorted. “All right. I left the Gloria before the storm. I alone.” He turned and walked away.
Whoever heard of a captain leaving the ship he was in charge of during the middle of a voyage willingly? Had her brother gone daft?
“I don’t understand. You left your post on the Gloria?”
Marisol sprinted to catch up again. She stumbled on an iguana nesting hole, pitched off to the side and rolled down an embankment, coming to an abrupt stop against a scrubby bush.
“Marisol!”
Branches poked into her back. Knarls of sticks and thorny twigs scratched and pecked her arms. “Christ!” What was it about the bloody plants on this island?
A Kiss in the Wind Page 20
