My Seaswept Heart

by Christine Dorsey

  “Ah, that’s right. I’d forgotten the lad who helped me with my bath.”

  “I didn’t help you.” Anne crossed her arms, wishing he didn’t make her feel so uncomfortable.

  “Really?” His brows arched. “To my way of thinking, we each got ourselves a good look.”

  “You’re depraved.”

  “Of course I am. Pirates are supposed to be depraved. Or didn’t ye know that when ye made your decision to become a lad and go on account?”

  Anne didn’t feel that worthy of comment, so she simply bundled her arms more tightly. A fact that made the captain shake his head.

  “I wanted ye to know we’re headed back toward New Providence,” Jamie raised his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “Ye have no say in it. Till we arrive you’re to stay down here.”

  “Locked in your cabin?”

  “If need be.” He walked to the door and turned to face her. “I won’t have anyone else discovering Andy’s secret.” After saying that he left. But she didn’t hear the lock click so he must have decided it wasn’t necessary in order to keep her below.

  Anne imagined he was right. As much as she’d like a breath of fresh air her deception would be easier this way. With a shrug she returned to her task of straightening the captain’s cabin.

  She couldn’t understand how he could live like this, so completely unorganized. How did he ever find anything? Anne sorted through the books and charts first, piling them neatly on his desk. The number of books surprised her, as well as the diversity of subject matter. If he read them, and she wasn’t at all sure he did, he wasn’t as ignorant of the world as she first thought.

  There were novels by Milton, Spencer, and Dryden, as well as Payne’s Observation On Gardening. Several books on history littered his bunk. One, Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion, underneath. Some were bound in leather, others were quite plain. But when she’d gathered them all, Anne realized the pirate had himself a fairly extensive library.

  “No doubt, every single book is stolen,” she mused as she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. It was warm, too warm for a coat and wool cap, but she couldn’t be sure no one would come to the captain’s cabin, so she kept them on. She didn’t even wash the dirt from her face, though she was sorely tempted. Anne’s eyes darted to the dented pewter pitcher and bowl on the crudely made table. For all the pirate captain’s slovenliness he did keep himself fairly clean.

  Unable to resist any longer, Anne placed a book on navigation on the pile and walked toward the cracked bit of looking glass nailed to a timber. Standing on tiptoe she was just able to see the top half of her face, dirt streaked, and barely visible beneath the low pulled knit hat.

  Her eyes clamped shut. She would simply have to wait to get clean again. With a sigh she turned and surveyed the cabin. Meanwhile, there was plenty for her to do.

  ~ ~ ~

  He was avoiding his cabin.

  Jamie leaned forward, his arms resting on the cracked and splintered railing and watched the moon send slivers of silvery light to dance across the ebony sea. Above him stars twinkled. The night, soft and sweet as only the Caribbean could offer was its own excuse to linger. And normally Jamie needed no other.

  But for some reason his short acquaintance with Anne Cornwall, turbulent as it was, defied rationalizing. And forced him to be more honest with himself. It wasn’t the beauty of the night that kept him above deck, it was the woman in his cabin.

  “The men are not happy.”

  Jamie jerked around toward the man who spoke, a puzzled expression on his face. “A good evening to ye, too, Deacon.”

  “Make light of it if ye must, but the talk is not good.”

  Shrugging, Jamie turned back to contemplate the sea. The breeze was freshening. He could feel it on his face, hear it in the snap of the sails. “What has them vexed now? I thought they might be more agreeable without their leader.”

  “Is that why ye have Stymie chained in the hold?”

  His head tilted around. “Ye heard about that did ye?”

  “Every man on board the Lost Cause has heard of it, Cap’n. Did ye think to keep such a thing a secret?”

  Jamie thought about it a moment. “Nay, but I hoped his disappearance would give the crew a puzzle to fuss over.”

  “Ye should have tossed him to the sharks.”

  “Why, Deacon, ye surprise me. Such bloodthirsty talk coming from a man of the cloth.” Jamie took a deep breath. Humor was lost on Deacon. “Haven’t ye been after me to do something about him? ’Tis all ye and Keena speak of.”

  Deacon aimed his good eye at Jamie. “He shall cause ye trouble, Jamie MacQuaid. Mark me words.”

  The hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck stood up and it had naught to do with the breeze. “Ye know I hate it when ye prophesize like that.”

  “’Tis fear that my words are true.”

  “One time, Deacon. ’Tis only that one time in Barbados that I recall ye foretelling the future.” Jamie turned to face him. “That does not an Old Testament prophet make.”

  “’Tis blasphemy ye speak.”

  Letting his head fall back, Jamie took a deep breath, letting the tangy sea air fill his lungs. “What would ye have me do, Deacon? And don’t say throw him overboard.”

  “What did ye have in mind to do with him?”

  “Bring him before the crew. ’Tis the usual way we deal with crimes against a fellow seaman.”

  “But Stymie isn’t the usual pirate and ye knows it.”

  “He’s a londmouthed bully and no more.” Leaning forward he laced his fingers together to keep from making a fist. “Except that he finds an odd fascination in pounding on those weaker than himself.”

  “How is Joe?”

  “Better” Jamie glanced up, a grin twinkling his eyes. “Asleep in Stymie’s hammock at present.”

  “And the other boy?”

  The grin faded. “Below in my cabin, learning the proper way to speak to a captain.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Anne sat on the edge of the bunk mentally listing what needed done on the morrow. She’d managed to sort the books, arranging them by subject, which at times, due to her lack of formal education was difficult. There were several works written in what she supposed was Latin that she had to guess about placement. But anything was better than the random ‘toss where ye may’ method the captain used to store his books.

  The maps and charts were rolled neatly and stacked beside his desk, which now proved her earlier assumption that it did indeed have a top.

  She’d accomplished quite a lot actually, and the chore kept her from dwelling on the fact that Jamie MacQuaid turned the sloop toward New Providence. Not that she hadn’t extended considerable thought on how to get him to change his mind.

  But other than defying him and revealing her identity to the crew, she could think of nothing. And the captain had convinced her that was not a good idea.

  Anne worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Another thought kept infringing upon her mind as she organized today. What made Stymie hurt Joe? She could only hope it had nothing to do with what Joe told the captain. Anne rocked back, grabbing her knees and pressing her chin forward. She needed to speak with the captain. She needed to speak with Joe.

  But neither of them had seen fit to come below since the captain roared in earlier. No one had come. Which meant there’d been no food either. Anne sighed, twisting around till she could stretch out on the recently cleared bunk.

  The captain didn’t plan to starve her to death, did he? Anne fell asleep wondering.

  ~ ~ ~

  And woke to a loud thump that made her jerk to sitting. Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized someone was in the room with her. Someone large, loud, and angry.

  “Damnit it to hell, woman! I told ye not to mess with me things.” Jamie bent to rub the knee he’d banged. “What?” he asked between clenched teeth, “is this?”

  Waking up was never something Anne did easily... or well
. A slow, gradual greeting of the morn was the one luxury she allowed herself. This arousal was sudden and abrasive... and it was hardly morning. Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she took a moment to steady herself. Her hat had come off while she slept and she swept her fingers back through her tumbled curls.

  When she glanced up it was to see the captain, limned in moonlight, straightening to face her. She looked from him to the once neat stack of books, now tumbled helter-skelter on the floor. With a sigh she pushed to her feet. “Now see what you’ve done.”

  “What I’ve done?” Jamie grabbed her shoulder when she bent to pick up one of the books, pulling her to stand beside him. “What I’ve done,” he repeated louder this time. “Seems to me, lass, ’tis you who’ve been doing more than ye should.”

  Her tone was exceedingly patient... to Anne’s way of thinking. “I simply straightened your things.”

  “Ah.” Jamie bent his face toward hers. “Then ye admit they are my things we’re discussing here.”

  “Of course I do.” She’d done him a favor, though that wasn’t her motive by any means. “I couldn’t live in such squalor.”

  “Squalor?” They were nearly nose to nose now. “Me cabin was the way I liked it.”

  “It was a disorderly mess.”

  “Mess or not, it be my mess, and the way I like it.”

  His eyes were so close that even in the near darkness she could see the prisms of blue and green that made them so intriguing. So mesmerizing. She forced herself to focus on the whole of him. “Little wonder.”

  “Aye, little won...” He paused. “Now what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Anne shrugged delicately. His hair, gilded silver by what moonlight filtered through the salt-encrusted transom windows waved wildly to his shoulders. She didn’t have to look down to know his shirt flapped open. The warmth from his chest was proof enough.

  Anne swallowed. “You have a pier glass, though it be barely more than a sliver. Surely you’ve looked in it.” She knew he had. She’d watched him shave off the beard that had now returned as stubble shadowing his jaw shade’s darker than the sun-bleached mass on his head.

  “If you’re questioning my cleanliness I’d say it be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” With one finger he traced the curve of her cheek. A mistake he realized as soon as he felt the silky skin. He was almost thankful when she knocked his hand away.

  “You know very well why I’m covered with dirt. And I hate it.” Anne bit her bottom lip, wishing she hadn’t said the last. It was too close to a crack in her defenses. She even thought she noticed an expression of sympathy glitter in his sea-colored eyes before he turned away.

  “Well, that is your doing as I recall. All of this has been your doing. And ye are the one stuck with it until we reach New Providence.”

  His words gave her pause. They reminded her that her well-laid plan was failing and she hadn’t been able to devise a new one. She took a deep breath. “I apologize.”

  “Of course ye do, but—”Jamie cut himself off, his eyes narrowing as he searched her delicate, blackened face.

  She’d surprised him. Anne didn’t wait for another word from him before pressing her advantage. “It was wrong of me to put your cabin in order. I realize now that you are a man who enjoys a certain amount of...” She searched her mind for a word to describe the muddle he lived in. A word that she could accept and that he wouldn’t find insulting. She finally settled on, “Disarray. I imagine you find it comforting.” She smiled up at him, hoping she’d assuaged his male pride.

  Comforting, hell! He found it easier than cleaning. But he nodded anyway, wondering why the sudden urge to be accommodating struck her. He had a pretty good guess, of course, and it didn’t take her long to confirm it.

  “Well, at any rate, I shall mess it up for you again... I mean put it back to your comforting disarray in the morning.” Anne felt her jaw tighten and she tried to relax.

  “I thank ye for that.”

  “Of course, I don’t wish to be any bother.” Though she couldn’t see his face well enough to discern his expression, Anne was sure his brow quirked. “Which is why I think you should forget this worry you have about returning me to New Providence right away.”

  “’Tis no worry.” Jamie moved away from her and settled on the bunk. He couldn’t help noticing the blanket and sheets were tucked in. And there was a pillow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on a bit of down softness. He wondered where she found it. But not as much as he wondered why she felt it necessary to help him off with his boots.

  Anne knelt on the deck, her back to the captain and tugged. “I really wish you’d reconsider and just find d’Porteau. Having me along will make no difference.” She clamped her teeth together when his other boot pressed into her backside and yanked. On the third try the boot flew free... and only Anne’s elbows saved her from sprawling face first on the floor.

  “All right, are ye?” came the mocking inquiry from the bunk and Anne could well imagine the wicked grin crinkling his eyes.

  She pushed herself up and reached for the other boot. “I’m fine.” This one came off easier, and she managed to stay upright on her knees. She stood, brushing at her breeches, a useless gesture given the state of their cleanliness. Turning to face him, she planted hands on her hips. “Well, what do you think?”

  “Ye make a decent cabin boy,” Jamie said, deliberately misunderstanding her.

  “I mean about letting me stay aboard till you find d’Porteau.” Her tone lost its accommodating edge.

  “Ah, that.” Jamie stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. “Perhaps I should think on it tonight.” With that he stood, removed his shirt, reached for his breeches and thought better of it, then crawled beneath the sheets.

  And Anne was left standing in the dark, holding his boots and wondering where she was supposed to sleep. Asking him didn’t seem a good idea. For one thing she was trying not to cause any trouble. For another he was already snoring. But at least he said he’d think about letting her stay on board. Thinking of that made the floor seem a little softer as she lay down.

  By morning it seemed almost comfortable.

  Anne sighed and burrowed her body deeper into the softness, her eyes popping open when she remembered there was no way the deck could be soft.

  She was in the bunk, thankfully alone, nestled between the clean sheets she found yesterday in one of the captain’s sea chests. Her head resting on the pillow she discovered amidst a pile of dirty clothes. Yawning, Anne glanced about.

  Sunlight poured through the windows, splashing across the cabin’s shabby furnishings. There were no dark corners this morn. There was also no Captain MacQuaid. It appeared she would have to wait for his answer about keeping her with him.

  Unless, he already made the decision and was heading back toward San Palma. Anne climbed out of the bunk slowly, wondering when the captain put her there, and went to the window. But try as she might, there was no way she could see the sun to figure which way they were heading.

  When she turned back toward the room, she noticed something she’d missed before. On the desk was a wooden trencher piled high with a rice and fish mixture. Beside it was a pewter mug of rum. Without even considering it might be the captain’s breakfast, Anne scraped the cabin’s only chair to the desk and scooped up a bite.

  She’d cleaned the plate, washing the sticky concoction down with the rum when the door opened. Realizing she forgot to yank the hat over her curls, Anne jumped up and dove for the bunk. The captain’s voice stopped her.

  “’Tis no need to worry. I’m privy to your deception, remember?”

  Anne just sent him a fulminating look over her shoulder, that changed to a smile when she recalled her new strategy. “I wasn’t certain it was you. And I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize your position on your ship.”

  “How thoughtful.” Jamie glanced at the empty platter, then back at Anne. She not only was
without her hat, but her jacket was missing, draped over the back of the chair. Without its thick, camouflaging folds, there was no doubt of her sex. The shirt was loose, but threadbare. Beneath it she wore none of the female trappings. Her breasts were small, but standing in profile as she was, with the windows behind her, obviously womanly.

  And he could recall their taste.

  Jamie started flipping through the rolled pile of charts to get his mind going in another direction, hoping the stirring in his loins would subside. He found what he was looking for, and admittedly it took him less time than usual thanks to her arrangement, then turned to leave.

  “By the by,” he said when his hand rested on the door latch. “We should reach New Providence by tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” Anne whirled around. “But I thought... You said...” He faced her, that cat-ate-the-cream grin on his face, and Anne lost her temper. Hands fisted she propelled herself toward him, striking first his chest then flailing for his chin.

  “Ouch! Damnit, Annie. Watch where you’re hitting.”

  He clutched her shoulders, making it difficult for her to aim high. So she aimed low. “You scoundrel. Rogue. Pirate!” Anne couldn’t think of enough bad names to call him. She also could barely catch her breath. Rather than try to hold her away, the captain opted to draw her against him, pinning her arms to her side and her body to his.

  She blew a tangle of curls from her eyes and glared at him. “You never were considering taking me with you,” she accused.”

  Jamie shifted her away from his manhood, only to have her body slip back into the V between his legs. “You’re damn right I’m not keeping ye aboard. ’Tis what I said since discovering ye.”

  “But you led me to believe—”

  “Ye were so busy trying to smother me with attention, ye weren’t paying any mind to what I said. Did ye think I couldn’t see through your ruse, Annie?” Jamie tightened his grip. “Did ye?”