Only then did Esmeralda extend her own hand. Jack took it in his. Her palm and the undersides of her fingers were calloused from work and the grip of her sword, but the skin on the back of her hand was still as soft as he remembered. He bowed formally, then kissed the back of her hand. Her scent was sweeter than any perfume. He wanted to turn her hand over, to kiss her palm, then move upward, feeling the pulse in her wrist jump beneath his lips, and then he’d…
With a palpable effort, he made himself release her hand and step back. “Esmeralda, love, nothing would please me more, but I can’t risk it. Have you forgotten that I broke the Code? What if one of your men saw me, recognized me, then went to Teague, and told him I’m sailing for the EITC? Teague would…” Jack hesitated, thinking. “I’m not sure what he’d do, but I’m positive I wouldn’t enjoy it.”
She looked at him closely, and Jack glanced away. “I don’t think Teague would truly harm you, Jack,” she said, slowly.
“I’d rather not chance it, love. Couldn’t you row over here?”
“No,” she said, flatly. “That wouldn’t look right, and you know it. And if I’m aboard they’ll exercise at least some restraint, celebrating their prize of rum. If I left, they might get so drunk they…” She shook her head. “You know pirates.”
Jack did know pirates. And he was more than a little familiar with the effects of rum. “Is there anyone you can trust not to betray me to Teague?” he asked. “I could row over after dark, and make sure none of them gets a good look at me. If I had someone to bring me aboard and take me to you…”
“My first mate, Montoya,” she said. “Luis is loyal only to me, as he was to my grandfather. You need have no fear, Jack. He will meet you and bring you to my cabin, and never say a word about it to anyone. I swear that you will be safe.” She held Jack’s eyes with her own. “Until dark, then. Do we have an agreement?”
Jack thought about the coming night, and gave in. “Done.” He smiled at her, then added, honestly, “I shall be counting the minutes.”
After the terms Doña Pirata had specified had been fulfilled, Venganza removed the grapples holding the ships together. The vessels drifted until they were a few hundred feet apart, then hove to again. The water was too deep to allow them to anchor.
The sun set in a blaze of Caribbean color.
Jack, having spent half an hour freshening up in his tiny cabin, appeared on deck in his best clothes and ordered a boat lowered. He explained to his waiting crew that the Lady Pirate had invited him to dinner, and that he hoped to convince her not to take the rest of their cargo and provisions. His explanation was greeted with a couple of knowing grins, but no one was bold enough to voice a comment aloud.
Leaving Robby in command, Jack rowed himself over to the frigate, enjoying the cooler breezes of the evening. On the western horizon, blushes of color—coral, rose, apple green, lemon—still tinted the sky, and he could see both Venus and Mercury. Venus blazed with a pure white spark, dominating the lapis bowl of the night, but she would soon sink down, over the edge of the world. Only the fingernail moon and the stars would be left to rule the heavens.
When he reached Venganza, Jack tied his boat to the ship, then, after pulling his hat low and his neckcloth up, he climbed up the ladder, over the railing, and stepped down onto the deck. Doña Pirata’s second in command, a villainous-looking Spaniard named Luis Montoya, was waiting for him, as promised.
Jack inclined his head to the man, noting that he seemed sober. He glanced quickly around the deck as he followed Montoya to the ladder leading belowdecks. It was clear that Esmeralda’s crew were enjoying their prize, swilling EITC rum with abandon. The deck was full of crewmen, but he was reassured to note that none of them paid him the slightest attention.
Jack’s nostrils twitched at the smell of barbecued meat and his stomach growled; he realized he hadn’t eaten since dawn. Someone struck up a lively tune on the hornpipe, and voices began singing in loud, and in many cases, slurred, Spanish. Jack recognized the tune. He knew the words to it, though he knew it better in English. The scene before him was so familiar, so relaxed, so free.…
As he descended the ladder, Jack reminded himself again that many of these roistering men were doubtless doomed to swing from a gibbet someday.
Montoya led him to the captain’s cabin, then tapped on the door. “Enter,” responded a voice. Her voice.
Montoya opened the door, and they went in.
Esmeralda’s cabin, once her grandfather’s cabin, was large and richly furnished. On the left there was a working space, where a good-sized table held writing implements and stacks of maps and charts. She was sitting there, charts spread before her. She glanced up as Jack entered, and slowly rose to her feet.
For their evening together, she had donned a rose silk gown, not too different in design from the one he had seen her wear that first time they’d spoken together in Shipwreck Cove, five years ago. Black lace edged the low-cut bodice, which was studded with jet beads that sparkled in the lamplight. Her hair was caught up with combs to hold it away from her face, but tumbled down her back, soft and wavy.
Montoya had hesitated in the doorway, and she flashed him a brief smile, and said, in Spanish, “Dinner may be served now, thank you, Luis.”
Montoya bobbed his head, and left, closing the door behind him.
Jack moved toward her, mesmerized by the way she looked, by the rustle of the silk gown, by the scent of her perfume. “Blimey, Esmeralda, you look…” he searched for a word. “Ravishing, love.”
She smiled, a playful smile that made her seem, all at once, like the fifteen-year-old girl who had thrashed him, then rubbed his face in the dirt. “Does that mean I am to be ravished, Jack?”
Her words and smile were deliberately provocative, and it took all Jack’s self-control not to lunge at her then and there. But, recalling that Luis Montoya would doubtless be back any moment with their food, he merely smiled and said, “What man could deny you anything when you look so beautiful, darling?”
She laughed, a little breathlessly, and gestured to a chair. “Madeira?”
Now it was Jack’s turn to chuckle as he sat down with her. “I thought your buccaneers drank it all.”
“Not quite all. I saved the best. Captain’s privilege.”
She poured him a glass of the wine, then gathered up her charts, clearing space on the table. Jack studied the goblet, which was silver, chased with gold. “Very nice,” he said, enjoying how the lamplight shone on the burnished surface. “Booty?”
“But of course,” she replied. “A nice little Dutch brig we took a day’s sail east off the Northwest Providence Channel. These belonged to her captain.”
Then, her expression growing serious once more, she raised her goblet. “A toast, Jack. To the fair winds of fate that blew us together today.”
Jack inclined his head. “To fate,” he murmured, then they both sipped their wine. A moment later, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Enter,” she said.
Montoya came in, carrying a tray. He set it down, nodded, then left. Esmeralda rose and locked the door. Jack sipped his wine, feeling his heart speed up.
“My cook made good use of your supplies, I see,” she said, returning to the table and lifting the covers over the dishes.
“I know he did a better job than mine could have,” Jack said, ruefully. “This smells delicious.”
They fell to, eating with the appetite of two active people who hadn’t broken their fast since the sun rose.
After they finished the meal, they cleared away the dishes and moved their chairs so they were sitting side by side in the cabin, lit only by a single lantern. Esmeralda had the luxury of having several casement-style windows that would open to provide ventilation. After such a hot day, the night air was cool and refreshing.
Jack gave his companion a sidelong glance, only to find that she was doing the same. They both hastily looked away. Jack racked his brain for something clever and amusing to
say, but his customary gift of gab seemed to have deserted him.
Jack was accustomed to ladies of the evening, women who knew what they were being paid for, women who didn’t need or want much in the way of conversation. Everything was understood, and they wanted to get right to work. Seduction wasn’t something he’d had all that much experience with—and never with a woman like this. Esmeralda wasn’t a chambermaid, or some lass who waited tables in a tavern. She was a pirate captain, a woman with power and authority. Talking to her most of the time was like talking to another man. And yet, he could never forget she was female.
It was true that they’d been together before, but that had been an entirely different situation. Five years ago, they’d been cornered, desperately hiding, forced into close quarters in the dark, together. They’d been terrified they’d be discovered, then giddy with relief when they weren’t. Things had just…happened.
Esmeralda looked away from him, nibbling at her lower lip, clearly as unsure of her next move as he was. Jack took courage from that realization. He knew what he wanted. Esmeralda’s a lady, he reminded himself. The night is young. Patience.… And it was good just sitting here with her, sipping the excellent Madeira, for once not having to guard every word that came out of his mouth. He was keyed up, there was no doubt, but in another way, he felt more relaxed than he had in years.
Because you’re back with your own kind? he wondered. Then he sternly reminded himself that pirates were no longer his kind.
With the window open, they could hear the men laughing, singing, and dancing on the deck above. One song ended, and another rollicking tune began. It was the pirate ditty Jack had heard before. Its quick rhythm and ribald lyrics filled his mind, and he found himself humming, then actually singing along. Jack had a nice tenor, smooth and true. Esmeralda listened to him, tapping time, then smiled impishly at him and jumped to her feet. “I cannot sing,” she said, breathlessly. “But I can dance!”
Picking up her skirts with a silken rustle, she began to dance. Her movements were a cross between those of a traditional Spanish dancer and a pirate’s jig. She moved gracefully, her heels tapping the floor, her dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the cabin. Her black hair swirled around her shoulders, and she laughed and flung it back, then danced faster, keeping time with the music. Jack began to clap time as he sang. The music floated across the dark Caribbean Sea like cream-topped waves of cheerful sound.
Jack watched her, catching tantalizing glimpses of buckled shoes with red heels, and shapely ankles clad in black silk stockings. Finally, as the music wound down, she held out both hands to him, and he found himself up out of his chair, grasping her hands, as they whirled around. He was dizzy, not from the motion, but from the scent of her. She was wearing some exotic perfume that reminded him of an oriental garden.
The music stopped, and so did the dancers, both laughing, then moving closer together. They stood there, almost touching, their breathing coming fast, regarding each other in the dimly lighted cabin. He was just about to pull her closer and kiss her when she tensed, shook her head, and stepped back. “Jack,” she said, her eyes glinting with mischief, “you don’t look at all like a man who belongs here, aboard a pirate ship! You look far too civilized.”
Jack chuckled. “Do I? If you knew the trouble I’d taken with my toilette, love, before rowing over here…what you see is the best I have.” His amusement at her comment was genuine, but he found himself wondering why she had retreated. Biding his time was growing more difficult, but he knew she was not a woman to push.
“I want you to look like my Jack,” she whispered. “I want my Jack here, not this civilized merchant officer!”
Moving forward, she put her hands up to his neck, and untied his neckcloth, pulling it free and dropping it on the table. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as she walked behind him and tugged at his best blue coat with the brass buttons, sliding it off his shoulders, then down over his arms. She hung it over the back of the chair. “Worst of all,” she murmured, “your feet. Sit down.”
Putting her hands against his chest, she pushed him down into the chair, then, before he could protest, she dropped down to kneel before him. Carefully, she pulled off one proper buckled shoe, then the other. She slid her fingers up, past his ankles, along his calves, and slowly peeled down his white knee stockings. Jack was silently glad that they were his best pair, and had no holes. The feel of her fingers sliding along his calves made his head spin.
He rose to his feet and pulled her against him, but before he could kiss her, she again skipped back, out of reach, then stood regarding him mock-thoughtfully. Jack felt his color rise as she scrutinized him, eyeing his waistcoat and loose-sleeved shirt with the cuffs edged with tattered lace. “Better,” she murmured. “Much better. But that shirt won’t do.”
Moving closer again, she carefully unbuttoned his shirt so it hung open halfway to his belt. Feeling the trails of her fingernails on his chest, Jack closed his eyes, fighting for control. He couldn’t just grab her; he sensed that would be a major mistake. Is she trying to drive me mad? he wondered, clenching his hands into fists.
Esmeralda’s last “revision” of his appearance came when she reached over his shoulder and pulled loose the black ribbon tying back his hair, so it hung loose on his shoulders. He didn’t move, hoping that this time she wouldn’t step back. But she did, then regarded him, her head cocked to one side. Finally she nodded approvingly and smiled. “Now you look like my Jack once more,” she said. “My Jack is a pirate. A beautiful pirate.”
Jack’s laugh was a bit shaken. “No, darling. The beauty stands before me.”
She laughed, too, but there was an undertone of tension in it. “Flatterer. What is it your Obeah woman used to call you? The one you told me about? Ah, yes. Witty Jack.”
He shook his head ruefully. Why in the world was she talking about Tia Dalma? “Tia Dalma isn’t ‘mine,’ love,” he corrected her. “She’s her own woman, make no mistake. No man will ever possess her. She’s…” he groped for words to express something indefinable he’d always sensed about the hoodoo sorceress. “She’s…she…sometimes it seems like she wears her woman’s body…the way you would wear a gown.” He shivered. “She has power,” he said. “Real power. She’s no one I’d want to cross.”
“Is she pretty?” Esmeralda asked, and he sensed a touch of jealousy in her voice, which he found immensely gratifying.
He shrugged. “She’s…attractive…in certain ways. But not pretty, the way you are. You are lovely.”
Why is she stalling like this? he wondered. His patience was eroding, but he sensed that she wasn’t doing this to be coy, but for another, more personal reason. And somehow he knew that reason was important.
He gazed at her in the soft light. She was, indeed, beautiful. Her eyes looked huge and dark, for she had outlined them somehow. There was a faint flush of color in her cheeks, and on her lips. In the years since he’d last seen her, she’d learned to enhance her appearance, the way women of her class at court did. “Your eyes,” he said. “I love your eyes. The way you’ve enhanced them. What did you do?”
She smiled. “A little trick I picked up in the east. It’s called kohl. They all outline their eyes there, in that part of the world, both men and women. The sun is so hot, and it helps protect against the glare off the water. It also helps prevent infections. You should try it, Jack. It would look wonderful on you. Let me show you.”
After rummaging in a drawer, she returned with a small pot and a fine-tipped brush. “Hold still. Don’t blink,” she commanded, after dipping the brush into the dark substance. Jack did as she bade, and felt the brush glide along his lower lids. “Now close your eyes,” she said. This time the brush touched his upper lids, each in turn, slipping smoothly along.
Esmeralda stepped back and nodded. “It looks very good on you, Jack,” she said, after giving him an appraising glance. Jack looked into the mirror she handed him and was inclined to agree.
�
�Thanks, love,” he said. “I like it. I’ll have to remember this, next time I’m in the east.”
“Oh, they sell it in Tortuga,” she said. “You know Tortuga.”
“I do,” he agreed. “Port Royal has its charms, but it can’t hold a candle to Tortuga.”
Silence fell. Jack peered at her in the dimness, and realized she was trembling. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. “What’s wrong, love?” he asked, gently. “I can see something is wrong. Tell me.”
Esmeralda hesitated for a long moment. “I…I…” she broke off, then shook her head. “Perhaps this evening was a mistake,” she whispered. “It was such a long time ago. But…”
Jack held his breath, wondering whether she’d just open her door and tell him to leave, rather than give him the truth.
Finally, not looking up, she said softly, hesitantly, “Jack, that time we met in Barbados, I didn’t know whether I ever wanted to speak to you again. The way you left that night, without saying a word to me. After…after we had been…together.”
“But, Esmeralda, I explained it wasn’t by choice!” Jack protested. “I was betrayed, I told you, just as you were. Just as Don Rafael was. It’s not like I planned what happened! I couldn’t help it. It was go with them or be killed out of hand by those rogues!”
She nodded, and half turned away. “I know. At least, my head knows that. But my heart…” she swallowed. “My heart remembers how I felt that next day, and it makes me angry. I know it’s not fair, but you asked why I…” She broke off and shook her head impatiently. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jack drew in a breath, as, for the first time, he thought about what it must have been like for her. “No, I asked because I wanted to know, love.”
Esmeralda looked down, twisting her hands together. “The next day, my grandfather ordered Venganza made ready to sail, saying on the morrow he planned to go rogue-hunting. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, after I waited all day for you to appear, I dressed up in the cabin boy’s clothes, and went to The Drunken Lady. And that’s when they told me you’d run off with the rogues. I felt like…” She made a small gesture of tossing something away.
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom Page 10
