My Seaswept Heart

by Christine Dorsey

  When everyone had eaten their fill, the tables were pulled aside and the dancing began. Lester Perdue’s violin flowed from one tune to another as the villagers tapped their toes and swung their partners about.

  Anne was sitting with her uncle, Israel, and Jamie when Matthew Baxter asked her to dance. “It’s the Cheshire Rounds,” he said as if that would somehow make her more willing to join him. It didn’t, of course. She wanted to stay as close to Jamie as she could.

  He worried her.

  Ever since the Lost Cause disappeared on the horizon he and Israel had downed mug after mug of rum. She glanced his way, hoping he’d say something about needing her to stay by his side... needing her at all.

  But he simply lifted his mug in silent toast, then turned back to Israel and downed his drink. Anne felt heat sweep over her cheeks, and she pushed to her feet, taking Matthew’s proffered hand. She didn’t look back as he led her to the center of the common area.

  “She ain’t a lass to hide her feelings be they good or bad.” Israel leaned back on his stool and crossed his ankles.

  “What are ye rambling on about, old man?”

  “Mistress Anne, as if ye didn’t know.”

  Jamie knew. He knew every move she made. He narrowed his eyes and watched as the thick-necked young man took her hands and circled her back to the right. He was taller than her by a head, not hard to look at, if you cared for thick necks, and just the type of man she should be with.

  He lifted his mug, growling deep in his throat when he found it empty. Anne Cornwall wasn’t for the likes of him, and he needed to remember that. Forget her. Forget about d’Porteau while he was at it.

  Hell, the good citizens of Libertia were right. The Frenchman probably wouldn’t show his face around here again. That was if Keena and Deacon didn’t catch him and bring him back.

  But the more he tried to forget, the more he tried to wash away memories under a flood of rum, the more his gaze was drawn to her.

  “Gawd, lad, but you’ve got it bad.”

  Jamie’s gaze whipped around toward Israel. He opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again. Flattening his hands on the rough-hewn table he wobbled to his feet. “I’m goin’ where I don’t have to listen to your jaw flappin’.”

  Israel’s laughter mingled with the strident strains of the violin as Jamie stumbled toward the beach.

  Anne saw him go. She missed her quick turn to the left, standing still and pumping into Matthew when he made the correct move. Being the sweet man he was Matthew steadied her, then set about apologizing profusely.

  “No, really. It was entirely my fault.” Anne took a deep breath. “Do you suppose I could sit for a while? I seem to be more tired than I thought.”

  “Of course. Let me see if I can find your uncle.”

  “That’s quite all right. Please.” Anne placed her hand on his sleeve. “Don’t bother yourself.”

  As she hurried out of the glow of the bonfire and burning brands, Anne heard Israel calling her. She stopped and turned to face him. He was puffing for breath as he approached her, but it didn’t stop him from getting right to the point.

  “Do ye know what yer about, Mistress Anne?”

  “I think I do.” Anne lifted her chin.

  “And I’m just as sure ye don’t.”

  “I really don’t see that this is—”

  “Now don’t go tellin’ me ’tis none of me business ’cause it is. This whole crazy scheme for ye to bring Jamie MacQuaid into this only occurred to ye because of what I told ye about him.” His voice lowered. “And I don’t like the thought of ye getting hurt.”

  For a long moment Anne could only stare at Israel. Backdropped by the flickering light of the village, he seemed an odd one to be giving her advice, a retired pirate with grizzled hair hanging loose around his gaunt face, and a pipe stuck in his mouth. It crossed Anne’s mind that she should be angered by his interference, but she wasn’t.

  She lifted her hand slowly, and though she couldn’t see his features, Anne knew they registered surprise when she touched his cheek. “I thank you for your concern, Israel. For all you’ve done over the years for Uncle Richard... for me.” Anne sighed in her breath. “But it’s too late. I already love him, you see.”

  Saying the words aloud seemed to make it real, bringing all her emotions glaringly into focus. Not waiting for him to say anything, Anne turned and started toward the beach. Her step didn’t waver when she heard Israel. He apparently recovered from his shock.

  “He’s a pirate, Mistress Anne. He’ll break yer heart.”

  “He already has,” Anne whispered to herself. “He already has.”

  ~ ~ ~

  She found him standing in the surf, the water splashing onto his boots, his face turned toward the sea. Moonlight limed his broad shoulders and narrow hips, the long muscular legs. Anne resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him, to lean against his strong back. He didn’t turn around when she spoke.

  “Are you planning to swim out to find your ship?”

  She heard his deep intake of breath. “I don’t belong here, Annie.”

  “Really?” Anne walked to his side, feeling the tug of warm water as it seeped through her shoes. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

  He looked down at her then, the moonlight sparkling on the gold hoop in his car. He smelled of rum and the sea, but despite the swell of incoming waves his stance was firm. Anne wondered just how drunk he was.

  “I just don’t, is all,” he said before resuming his study of the endless darkness of sea.

  “The good citizens of Libertia seem to think you do.”

  “They be fools.”

  “What of me, Jamie? Am I a fool, too?”

  His head whipped around. Anne could feel the intensity of his stare. It warmed her in all the places she’d learned to crave his touch.

  “Aye, Annie. Ye be the biggest fool of all... except for me.”

  “I don’t want to believe that.” Her words were spoken softly and carried on a gust of wind toward the breakers.

  “Ye have no choice.”

  Anne’s spine stiffened. Jamie MacQuaid created a problem to be sure, but problems had solutions. “There are always choices, Jamie,” she insisted. “We simply need to find a way.”

  His laugh was sharp and without mirth. “Ye haven’t changed even a wee bit, have ye, Annie?” His tone was without rancor. “’Tis still your contention that a solution is there if only ye look hard enough.” He shook his head slowly. “Life, my dear Annie, doesn’t work that way. I’d have thought your brief acquaintance with me would have taught ye that.”

  “I want you to stay.” There, she’d said it. “With me.”

  “Here, on Libertia?”

  “Yes, why not? ’Tis a lovely island, and the people seem to like you. They—”

  “Tolerate me, Anne. They tolerate me. And that’s only because they don’t know who I really am.” He paused, and then tried to change the tone of his denial. “Besides, I don’t think I have it in me to be a follower of the great philosopher, John Locke.”

  “That’s not true. You ran your ship by his doctrines. I saw it for myself.”

  “Ye saw what ye wanted to see.”

  “Does that include you? Am I only imagining the feelings I have for you? Imagining that you care for me? Tell me I am. Tell me true and I’ll leave you in peace to stare into nothingness.”

  She gave him the perfect out. The perfect opportunity to take the easy road. He could lie to her. Lying was one of the things he did best. Part and parcel of the scoundrel he was. Then why couldn’t he do it?

  His fingers fisted. “My feelings for ye are not the issue.” Jamie strained to make out her features in the silver glow from the moon. “I’d lay down me life for ye, Annie.” He heard her swallow. “But I won’t stay and sacrifice it.”

  “But—”

  “Annie. Annie.” Jamie gave into desire and laid his hands on her shoulders. It seemed only natural to
pull her into his arms. To soften the reality. “I’ve a price on me head. A noose awaiting me if I’m caught.” He tugged in a breath but his lungs still seemed starved for air. “How much time do ye think we might have? A sennight? A year, perhaps? Though part of me... a strong part is willing to take the risk, I won’t.”

  “I’m not asking you to sacrifice yourself. I’d never want that.”

  “But it’s not meself I’m thinking of, Annie. ’Tis ye.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, loving the feel of it the way it curled around his fingers.

  “You needn’t worry about me.” Anne wrapped her aims around him. Water seeped up her skirts and petticoats. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but him. She held on as tightly as she could, but in the end it wasn’t tight enough.

  Gently, as if he feared she might shatter at his touch, Jamie separated them. “But I do worry about ye, Annie. And that’s why as soon as the Lost Cause returns, I must leave.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Yet he hesitated, putting off his departure. The Lost Cause had sailed back to Libertia without the French Whore, as Jamie predicted.

  “We lost sight of her on the third day,” Deacon explained. “Off the coast of Jamaica.” He stared at Jamie soberly, fixing him with his good eye. “I don’t think d’Porteau wants to risk this island again.

  “Let us hope not,” Jamie said before rowing back to Libertia. He’d suggested that his crew would be better off staying aboard. They’d been less than pleased, but he promised they’d sail into New Providence soon and with jewels in their pockets.

  Which was all the more reason for him to finish his business here and be gone, Jamie decided as he sat across the table from several of Libertia’s leaders. Richard Cornwall was there. But as his mind kept losing focus, Jamie imagined his presence was requested out of respect.

  Anne was not present. He hadn’t seen more than a passing glimpse of her since he left her on the beach the night of the celebration. He planned it that way, purposely staying away from any place she was likely to be.

  And it was breaking his damn heart.

  “I don’t understand why you won’t transport these vile creatures to New Providence for us. We are willing to pay you well for your trouble.”

  Matthew Baxter’s words interrupted Jamie’s thoughts and he shifted his attention to the man who’d danced with Anne. Jamie knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t get past his dislike for the young man. He tried to hide it as he again gave his excuses... not the real reason he couldn’t sail into a British port with a brig frill of pirates, but the one he’d come up with when first asked.

  “I’d like to help ye, Matthew. But I can’t. We’ve tarried too long in these waters as it is. We’ve cargo bound for the New World that we must see to.”

  “But New Providence is but a few hours out of your—”

  “And I told ye I can’t do it.” Why wouldn’t the man just take no for an answer? He’d probably pursue Anne with the same dogged persistence, finally breaking down her resistance and wedding her. Jamie’s jaw clenched, and he flattened his hands on the tabletop, pushing to his feet. He had to get off this island before he lost his mind.

  “But what are we to do with them?”

  Jamie had no answer except to hang them all from the highest tree, but he knew the good citizens of Libertia didn’t want to hear that. Hell, he’d suggested it once and most of them had turned pale with shock. They were law-abiding people, who let the court system take care of their criminals. Even if it meant feeding and keeping the pirates prisoners in a makeshift jail until they could be transported to New Providence... where they would undoubtedly be hung.

  And where he’d most likely join them in their swing from the gallows if he took them there. As it was Jamie couldn’t imagine why some of the pirates hadn’t filled their jailor’s ears with stories about Jamie.

  Another reason for him to leave this island as quickly as he could.

  Which he would do. Today.

  That decision made, Jamie went in search of Anne. He found her in a cane field standing among the tall grassy plants.

  “Looks as if ’tis doing well,” he said, holding her stare when she whirled around.

  She hesitated a moment, then sighed. “I hope we can get one more good crop this year.” She turned back to survey the sweep of green.

  “I came to tell ye I was leaving.”

  Anne picked a leaf and twirled it between her fingers, but she said nothing.

  “Did ye not hear me?”

  “I heard you.” Anne tossed the leaf aside and turned to face him, anger and pain warring with her features. “What do you want from me? A goodbye kiss? A wish for a good voyage?”

  “Must we part like this?”

  “Yes, Jamie, I think we must, for you’re the one forcing the parting.” Crossing her arms Anne twisted away from him.

  “’Tis not me, but circumstances, as ye damn well know.”

  “Then take your circumstances and leave. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

  “If it helps any, I’m not pleased by the prospect of never seeing ye again, either.”

  “That surprises me.” Anne slanted him a look over her shoulder. “As much care as you’ve taken to avoid me.”

  Jamie reached out but dropped his hand when she flinched away. “’Twas for your own good, and ye know it.”

  Time passed with only the chatter of birds and the eternal wind breaking the silence.

  “There be something else.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t like asking, Annie. And if it were just me, I wouldn’t. But ye know how things be run on me ship.” He shuffled his feet, hating his reluctance to ask, and finally blurted it out. “I’ll be collecting those jewels now, if ye don’t mind.”

  But she did mind. His request at least temporarily blotted the pain of his leavetaking from her mind. “But I... I...”

  “It be true we didn’t capture d’Porteau, but it weren’t for lack of trying. And most everyone agrees he’ll not be coming here again, and—”

  “I don’t have them.” She blurted out the truth.

  “Well now, of course, I knew ye wouldn’t be carrying them around with ye but—”

  “No.” Anne sighed and wrung her hands. “You don’t understand. I really don’t have them.”

  Realization of what she was saying spread across his face. “Ye mean ye lied to me?”

  “No,” she blurted out. “Not exactly. I had the jewels, every one I offered you. But they’re gone. Stolen by d’Porteau. That’s why I wanted to go with you so I could find them when we captured his ship.” Anne couldn’t tell by his expression whether or not he planned to give in to his desire to wring her neck. She stepped toward him ready to plead for understanding when they both turned toward the boy running their way. He was yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “What’s he saying?” Jamie asked when he saw how pale Anne had become.

  “Arthur is back,” she murmured before taking off at a run. “My cousin has returned!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How did you escape him? Wherever have you been?” Anne hugged her cousin closer. “Oh, never mind all that. I’m so happy you’re home.

  “You just can’t imagine how upsetting this has been for Uncle Richard. Have you seen your father yet? Oh,” Anne pushed away with a laugh, “of course you haven’t! I’ve kept you as much a prisoner as d’Porteau ever did.”

  Despite her words Anne wrapped her arms tighter and buried her face in his shoulder, unaware that the man she was holding, and the man she loved were staring at each other. And that their expressions were anything but friendly.

  They stood on the dock. The small schooner that brought Arthur to the island bobbed at anchor, the handful of sailors still busied themselves furling the sails.

  “Come. Come. We must go find Uncle Richard. Arthur, he just hasn’t been the same since you left. But I’m sure now that you’re—” Anne paused, catching h
er breath and realizing that though she had Arthur by the arm and was doing her best to pull him toward the settlement, he didn’t move.

  “What...?” she began and swallowed as she caught sight of her cousin’s face... and the direction of his stare. She whirled toward Jamie and the chill in his eyes made gooseflesh pepper her skin. “I don’t under—”

  “What is this... this man doing here?”

  Anne stepped away from Arthur, unconsciously placing herself between the two men. A few other settlers had come down to the dock when Arthur arrived, but most of them had wandered back to the village to spread the word.

  “Arthur,” Anne began. “I don’t think you realize what has happened here. This is—”

  “I know who he is.” Arthur’s hard gaze left Jamie to focus on his cousin. “The question is, do you?”

  Anne let out a breath of amazement. She couldn’t believe the way her cousin was acting. “Yes, yes, I know. I also know he saved us from—”

  “What he has or hasn’t done is immaterial. This is Jamie MacQuaid.” His jaw jutted out defiantly. “And he’s a pirate. No doubt he’s part of some deadly plot with his friend d’Porteau to destroy us.”

  “No, don’t... please.” Anne’s hand pressed against Jamie’s chest; the pleading look in her eyes, stayed him from grabbing Arthur. And Anne had no doubt what the outcome of any altercation between the two would mean to her cousin. But there were more ways to be hurt than being beaten to a pulp. She meant to protect Jamie as well. “Let me talk to him.”

  “Talk all ye want, Annie. Will do no good.”

  “Annie, is it?” Arthur raked his gaze over his cousin. “How well do you know this blackguard? Did I save you from rape at the hands of one pirate only to have you become the whore of another?”

  She couldn’t stop him this time. Jamie was around her, his hands buried deep in the bunched-up fabric of Arthur’s jacket before Anne could do anything. She’d never seen Jamie look so fierce as he did now, the tendons in his neck standing out in bold relief, his eyes no more than shards of blue-green glass. He lifted Arthur up so that his toes barely touched the sand.