He didn’t answer for so long, just sat, his hands dangling between his knees, his eyes glued to hers, Anne wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. The boat bobbed, the sun sank farther into the western horizon, filling the sky with fuchsias and mauves, and still he said nothing.
“I said,” Anne began only to have him interrupt her.
“I know what ye said. I also know ’tis not a question I wish to ponder.” He wiped both hands down over his face. “No good would come of it.”
“I have a knife.”
His head shot up. “What did ye say?”
“I have—”
“How did ye get that?”
Deliberately, Anne shifted, reaching her hand down the length of her breeches and slowly pulling out the short hunting knife that Israel gave her years ago. The blade caught the last rays of sun, glinting as no jewel could, as she held it out toward him. “I always carry it. If you recall on Libertia I used it—”
“I remember how ye used it, Annie.” Shaking his head, Jamie laughed. “And not a one of the bastards thought to search ye.” His sun-browned fingers closed around the hilt.
Anne swallowed as she gave up possession. “I know it isn’t a pistol, but...”
Jamie paused in his examination of the weapon, and glanced up. “Ye think perhaps I should use it to slit your throat?”
Anne’s fingers reached for the skin above her collar. She couldn’t help herself. “I don’t know. You said...”
He said a lot of things, Jamie realized, that he didn’t always mean. He reached out and pulled off the woolen cap, freeing a tumble of brown curls. Angry with himself when she flinched at his touch. “’Tis a decision that doesn’t need made now.” His hand tightened around the knife handle. “Besides, I think we can put this to better use than slicing through your throat. Unravel that cap of yours.”
Anne looked down at her lap, then began doing what he asked. “What are you going to do?” He was busy rummaging around the bottom of the boat, making the sides dip and sway.
“This should do.” He held up a piece of wood, no longer than his arm. “I, Mistress Cornwall, am going to see about our supper,” he informed her, then proceeded to whittle matching notches at one end. He worked quickly, pausing several times to match up the knife handle with the grooves. Then he made deeper grooves at the other end.
“Rope,” he commanded, reaching for the yarn Anne unwound. Then he carefully twisted and braided the knife around the wood, knotting and reknotting until he was confident it held securely. After cutting that off, he tied the rest of the yarn to the other end, then wound that around the seat and knotted it.
When he was finished, he held the weapon up for Anne to see, a grin brightening his face. “Well, what do ye think?”
She didn’t know what to say. “I...”
“’Tis a harpoon.” With that he stood, bent over the side, peering into the indigo water. “Shark meat isn’t too bad, but I think I’ll forgo the pleasure of wrestling our friend tonight. Perhaps something small, though.” As he spoke he kept his gaze trained on the swells.
The boat tilted and Anne grabbed for the sides, when he lurched forward, tossing his makeshift weapon overboard. The first few times he pulled the harpoon back empty.
The third time he gave a whoop and tugged it back, a bright yellow fish wriggling on the blade. Sliding it off, he twisted to try his luck again. By the time it was too dark to see anything beneath the clear surface, there were five fish, all small and brightly colored, on the bottom of the boat.
Without removing the knife from the stick, he began slicing and gutting the fish.
~ ~ ~
It tasted terrible.
Anne at first balked at the idea of eating raw fish, but given the alternative... Besides, the captain seemed to be wolfing down his share without any hesitation.
Using her front teeth Anne tore another piece of flesh from the scales and chewed. By now it was dark, the only light skimming across the waves came from the quarter moon. She felt all the more alone and defeated.
The captain, on the other hand, seemed to have gained a fighting spirit. After finishing his fish he reached for the oars and settled into a steady rhythm of rowing. At first Anne said nothing, thinking he might only wish to put some distance between the shark, who she hadn’t been able to see since darkness fell, and themselves. But when it appeared that he planned to continue, she asked where he was going.
She could tell he glanced up, though it was too dark to see his expression. “Don’t take too much to heart, Annie. ’Tis still a waste of me time and yours. But I’m feeling a bit revived, so...” He let the rest of his words trail off.
So he was rowing them... someplace. Though he denied knowing where, Anne noticed he occasionally tipped his head to study the heavens. The stars hung bright in the black velvet sky and Anne wondered if he gleaned some reading from them.
But she didn’t ask, for she sensed he would deny it. And maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want her to put false hope in something he couldn’t provide. At any rate, she followed his suggestion that she settle into the bottom of the boat and get some rest. It was cooler now and Anne was glad for the coat, but though she tried, sleep would not came. Not even with the gentle sway rocking her and the hypnotic swish of the oars.
“What made you become a pirate?”
Jamie paused, braking the flow of his pull through the water when he heard her question, so unexpected in the darkness it seemed to come from his own mind. He thought her asleep, spared for a bit the reality of what was to come. Selfishly he was thankful she wasn’t. For he was lonely to his soul. He’d been thinking, of the past... of his wasted life. And sitting on the cusp of oblivion, facing his own mortality, as he was, his thoughts were far short of comforting.
So he carved the oars through the swells and smiled. “What makes ye think I wasn’t born one?”
“Because I doubt that’s possible,” came the voice from the darkness.
He decided to tell her the truth. What difference did it make? “’Twas the hangman’s noose that convinced me that piracy was my calling.”
“If you don’t wish to tell me, just say so.”
“But ’tis true. I swear it. I’m surprised Israel didn’t tell you the tale, he seemed so eager to have ye trust me.”
“He didn’t say. I thought perhaps he didn’t know.”
“He knew.” Jamie pulled in the oars and stretched his back. “Israel was one of the first of his kind I encountered on my sordid voyage toward freebooting. ’Twas a ship he captained that captured one I’d booked passage on.”
“Booked passage?” The tone was skeptical and Jamie could hardly blame her.
“Aye. Thoughts of staying in Scotland and hoping not to be recaptured held little appeal to me. I was a sad product of the defeat at Culloden. Caught I was, red-handed. The British brought the lot of us to trial and charged us with sedition. I barely knew what the word meant, except that being found guilty of it made one forfeit his life.”
“How old were you?”
“Old enough to know better than to tangle myself with a lost cause,” he answered cynically. “Seventeen,” Jamie added more to himself than for her benefit. “Anyway, I managed to find a berth on a vessel heading for the colonies.” He took up the oars again. “But the brig was attacked, those aboard were given the choice of joining the pirate crew or being killed.” He paused. “I chose to live.
“Clever choice,” Anne mumbled and heard him chuckle. But when he spoke again his voice lacked humor.
“Sometimes I wonder.” He took a deep breath. “But what’s done is done, and I’ll not regret it.”
“It would be a waste of time to do so.”
“You’ve the right of it there, Annie.”
After that neither said anything. The moon rose, the stars dimmed, and still Jamie rowed, wishing he knew why he bothered. He assumed, her curiosity quenched, Anne was asleep... that is until she spoke again.
“You thi
nk we’re bound to die, don’t you?”
Earlier he’d wanted her to stop her foolishness and face reality. Now he couldn’t stand the thought. But he couldn’t lie to her either. Instead he pulled in the oars and shifted off the seat to settle beside her in the bottom. Without a word he lifted her up against him.
His palm covered her check as he pressed it to his chest.
Chapter Eleven
It was the sun, bright and incessant, that woke them up.
Anne opened her eyes to find herself staring straight into his. At first, mesmerized as she was by the clear, sealike color, she forgot where they were. Finding herself in his arms was just a continuation of a most pleasant dream. One that had haunted her sleep. All she could do was smile.
He wanted to forget.
Fatigue and the constant draining of the tropical sun had been enough to allow Jamie to drift off to sleep. But though he’d appreciated the feel of Anne in his arms, frustrating as it was, his dreams were dominated by demons. Demons of his past.
But now, awake and looking into Anne’s multifaceted brown eyes, feeling the gentle softness of her body pressed to his, the devils that haunted him, seemed more like ghosts, wispy figments fading away on a strong-edged sweep of desire.
The arm that pillowed her body tugged closer. The hand still molded to her cheek shifted, tilting her face. His thumb traced a smear of grease across the slant of her brow.
“’Tis inconceivable to me that no one saw through your disguise.”
“They saw what they wanted to see.”
His mouth inched closer. “They were blind.”
“Perhaps, but—” Anne’s protest that she had fooled him for several days was cut off when his lips touched hers. Tremors of pleasure, stronger than she could control, shot through her, curling her toes. His mouth rubbed against hers, a delicious light friction. Then his tongue was there, dampening the sun-parched fullness, silently begging her to open to him.
She had no choice.
Anne accepted his kiss as she had on the beach at Libertia, with wonder that he could do so much to release her passions with so little effort.
Their positions were cramped, the wooden seats imprisoning them at the top, the slanting sides of the boat cradling their backs. But Jamie managed to shift, pressing his body tightly against hers. A wave of fevered desire quickened his loins.
He pulled away enough to read her expression. For there was no way she could know how much he wanted her. Under the circumstances it surprised... and embarrassed even him. His life was one of debauchery. But there was something about taking her, forcing her, while she had nowhere else to turn that he found unacceptable. Even as his body screamed for release.
He didn’t want her to think badly of him.
Jamie spread his fingers back through her hair. “Annie?” Her name, the question, was barely more than a whisper, lifted and carried away by the soft morning breeze.
His mouth skimmed from her cheek to the tip of her nose, the abrasion of his whiskers sending shivers down her spine. She swallowed, sensing a hesitation that seemed foreign to him. She longed for the kisses that overwhelmed. Kisses that would stamp out reality... at least for the moment.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his mouth back to hers.
And he was lost.
A moan escaped him as her lips opened, and then his tongue was inside, tasting. She was all sweetness and surrender. Kissing him back with an urgency that matched his own.
Jamie’s legs tangled with hers, and he wished he had room to move, but he forced that thought from his mind. No use fancying something that couldn’t be. Better to let erotic oblivion seize control.
Her jacket was coarse and bulky and Jamie longed to peel the fabric aside and rediscover the silken skin beneath. He faltered with the buttons, his fingers unwieldy, unwilling to break the seal of their lips to see what he was about. The jacket V’ed open and he fumbled through the linen shirt.
When he finished exposing her to the sunlight and his eyes, Jamie bent down, nestling his face against her skin.
That’s when something bumped the boat. Hard.
Anne screamed as it lurched to the side, then swished back to right itself.
There was a flurry of arms and legs as Anne and Jamie tried to extricate themselves from each other and the row of wooden seats.
They were banged again, this eliciting a string of curses from the captain as he bumped his head against the side.
“What is it?” Anne managed to pull her head high enough to look over the edge. What she saw made her cry out. “It’s the shark!”
Jamie was desperate now to be free of the confining seats. Each time he knocked an elbow he berated himself for getting in such a bind. When he finally yanked his body from beneath the seats the boat was listing from side to side so violently that water sprayed over them. He grabbed for the makeshift harpoon, determined to kill the attacking shark or die trying.
Clambering to his knees, Jamie lifted his arm, the knife blade aimed toward the mass of grayish brown floating near the surface of the water. He blinked, ready to begin a downward thrust. And stopped.
“What is it?” Anne asked when he collapsed on a seat, his head thrown back in laughter. “Why aren’t you killing it?” She managed to free herself from the bottom, but her coat was twisted and her hair tangled down in her face. With one hasty swipe she brushed it aside, trying to figure out what was so funny about being attacked.
“’Tisn’t a shark,” Jamie managed to say. He stuck the harpoon under the seat and reached into the water, shaking his head when Anne gasped. “’Tis but a dolphin.”
“A dolphin?” Anne leaned forward cautiously at the same time the creature lifted its head. Diamondlike droplets dripped from the snoutish nose. No gaping mouth full of jagged teeth appeared. Instead Anne found herself staring into rather soulful eyes. And feeling foolish. “I saw the fin,” she mumbled, annoyed when Jamie laughed all the harder.
Now he was actually petting the dolphin as if it were a lapdog, going so far as to scratch behind where its ears should be. Which seemed a bit reckless to Anne after what the creature did to their boat. The dolphin still had it bobbing in the wake of its playful antics.
“What does it want?” Anne settled on a seat and rested her chin in the cup of her palm.
“Some company, I’d wager.”
Anne just rolled her eyes as the captain continued to talk to the dolphin as if it were a child. “But why was it attacking our boat?” Granted the animal seemed harmless enough now, but it had nearly swamped them earlier; things might have been different.
“I don’t think we can call what Lucy did an attack.”
“Lucy?” The dolphin seemed to glance around but Anne ignored it. “You named it Lucy?”
“Had to call her something,” Jamie said, a grin forming.
“And what makes you so certain the dolphin is a girl?”
The grin was full-blown and wicked. “I know these things,” he said as his gaze traveled down Anne’s front. Blushing Anne hastily yanked the edges of her clothing together, covering her breasts. Which only made him chuckle.
“No need to hide yourself. I know you’re a woman, too.”
Anne sent him a scathing look, as she buttoned the jacket. “I still don’t understand what the dolphin—”
“Lucy.”
Her lips clamped together. “Have it your way... What Lucy was doing if she wasn’t attacking us.”
“Signaling, perhaps.”
Anne cocked her head in disbelief.
“Or getting our attention.”
Anne wanted to tell him how foolish he sounded, but decided against it. If he wanted to think the dolphin was trying to get their attention, so be it. It did seem like a friendly creature and after several coaxings Anne reached over to touch the top of its head.
“She likes ye.”
Anne shrugged. “I’d say she seems fonder of you.”
“I do have a way about me,
when it comes to the fairer sex,” he responded and Anne felt the heated color rise all the way to her curls.
The captain continued to play with the dolphin as the sun rose higher in the east. Though she wanted to suggest he could make better use of his time... rowing perhaps, or catching something edible... Anne kept quiet. For one thing the light showed them surrounded by water just as yesterday. Even Anne was beginning to wonder if it was worth the effort to row.
And though she was hungry and thirsty, the idea of eating more raw fish made her nauseous. The only thing that held any appeal was settling back down on the boat bottom with Jamie MacQuaid, and she didn’t think she should suggest that. So Anne sat, brushing her fingers back through her hair and waiting for the captain to tire of rubbing the sea creature pressed to the side of their boat.
As it happened, it was the dolphin who seemed to tire of the massage first. With a flip of its tail that sent a shower of salt water over Anne, the creature turned and dove beneath the surface. Moments later the dolphin shot into the air, gracefully executing an arc before again disappearing into the sea.
They both watched in awe as the dolphin performed her water show, each time moving farther to the south. When the creature had all but disappeared, Jamie sighed. “’Tis a sad thing we cannot swim like that.”
“I can’t swim at all.”
He glanced at her, his dark brows raised. “Ye live on Libertia, surrounded by beaches and water so blue it hurts your eyes and ye don’t swim?”
When he put it that way it did seem strange. But then she didn’t spend her days lolling on the beach. She was the one everyone else depended upon to make certain the sugar was cut when it should, and boiled, and shipped. Anne lifted her chin. “I never had time for such pursuits.”
He stared at her in earnest now, a quizzical expression on his bronzed face. Anne finally became so uncomfortable she crossed her arms and turned away, but not before she noticed the slight shake of his head. Well, he had a lot of nerve, disapproving of the way she spent her time. He who roamed the seas preying on innocent people. Robbing, and Lord knows what else.
My Seaswept Heart Page 16
