Simply Anna

by Jennifer Moore

  Philip knew she was upset, and his chest was warmed to know it was because she was worried about him. Aside from his mother fretting when he left London, he didn’t believe anyone had shown such concern for his welfare, and in spite of the discussion of battle strategies and his eminent danger, the knowledge made his chest light.

  The meeting took much longer than Philip had imagined. He was amazed by Captain Courtney’s thoroughness when it came to stratagem. He knew each of his men’s strengths, their particular weapons, and the best position for them in the campaign. He discussed weather, laid out the road, and devised different scenarios and their ability to react to every eventuality imaginable. Tom and Malachi participated in the planning even though their injuries would prevent them from joining the party.

  Philip glanced out the window at the front lawn and saw the other buccaneers mingling in groups or resting. He was surprised how well behaved the men were. In fact, so far everything about the pirates had surprised him. He’d imagined them to be undisciplined savages—attacking, plundering, killing without a second thought—but the last two days had shown them to be organized, careful, and, judging by their captain, quite intelligent.

  The door opened, and Betty and Anna delivered a luncheon.

  Anna did not meet his gaze as she placed a tray of fruit and meat on the low table. Her lips were pursed, but somehow it did nothing to diminish her beauty. He was extremely proud of the way she had presented their case to the pirates and how she cared for Oakely Park. Her concern for the mission touched his heart. He would need to speak to her before he left. He couldn’t leave things unsaid when there was a chance that he’d not have another opportunity.

  Finally, in the late afternoon, they adjourned to begin their preparations. With any luck, they’d be ready to leave the next morning. Philip stood and shook every man’s hand as they exited the room.

  Malachi was the last to depart. He clasped Philip’s offered hand. “I will protect her,” he said in his deep voice.

  Philip raised his brows.

  “Miss Anna. I know you worry, sah. I watch over yo’ house while you are gone.”

  “Thank you,” Philip said. The immense relief at having this man protect the people he cared for washed over him like a cool wave. “I do worry. You, of all people, know what Horace Braithwaite is capable of.”

  Malachi nodded. “I know dis too well, sah. De ol’ busha, he a wicked man.”

  “I am lucky to have you at Oakely Park, Malachi. Perhaps when I return, we can discuss your position? I hoped you would perhaps consider assisting Mr. Norton in the overseer duties while he establishes a coffee farm.”

  Malachi’s eyes squinted the smallest bit. He lifted his chin slightly, and his lips spread in a smile. “Perhaps, sah,” he said before he strode out the door.

  Chapter 20

  Anna rose early the next morning to bid farewell to the men as they set off on their journey. The previous day had been filled with preparations. Ezekiel had run back and forth from the slave’s village, delivering coarsely woven, thin clothing for the pirates to wear. He even managed to procure a variety of broad-rimmed hats to complete their disguises.

  Men had loaded wagons, discussed strategies, and prepared weapons late into the evening. Anna spent the majority of the day assisting Betty in the kitchen building, as feeding twelve extra men took quite a bit more work. She’d only seen Philip a handful of times after the meeting, and each was merely in passing. She still didn’t know what to say to him. The idea of him participating in the trap—in the battle—filled her insides with lead. She didn’t think she could speak to him without her emotions getting away from her.

  Philip was a gentleman, not a combatant, no matter what training he’d had in London. As the day had progressed, so had her dread. Guilt that the entire mission had been her idea overwhelmed her. If something were to happen to him—to any of them . . . She couldn’t bear to allow her mind to travel that path.

  Anna swallowed back her tears as she hurriedly dressed and left her bedchamber. She stepped through the front doors and in the faint, predawn light saw the men preparing the mules and carts. She could feel the excitement in the air, but it only increased her dread. A chill ran over her skin as she spied swords, sabers, muskets, and even axes hidden beneath the canvas covering the barrels. Her stomach turned from heavy to sour. As she scanned the scene, looking for the plantation owner, Captain Courtney approached.

  “Good morning, Lady Anna. Fine day, is it not?” He strode toward her with his white smile flashing.

  She forced a smile to her own face. “Yes, Captain. And again, I must thank you for what you are doing for us—I mean for Oakely Park.”

  He offered his arm and led her down the stairs and along the pathway. They walked in silence, passing by the groups of men loading the carts and then strolling a bit farther. Once they were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her, taking her hand from his arm and holding it in his. “I’ll not allow any harm to come to Lord Philip. You have my word.”

  Anna was startled by the intensity in his gaze and the directness of his statement. She felt her cheeks flush. “I do not know what to say, Captain. I obviously desire all of you to return safely . . .”

  He placed his other hand over hers. “My lady, I have, ah . . . known women all over this world. As ya may have realized, I’ve a soft heart for ladies. But if any one of them had ever looked at me the way you look at ’is lordship, I’d’ve left the sea in an instant. I confess I’m mighty jealous.”

  Anna’s flush deepened, but she did not sense any judgment in his words, only kindness. They turned back toward the group, who had finished loading the wagons and appeared to be nearly ready to depart.

  Philip was still nowhere to be seen.

  When they arrived at the Great House steps, Mr. Blackbird motioned to Captain Courtney.

  “I bid you farewell, my lady, and don’t forget my pledge. Set your mind at ease.” He bowed and turned to go.

  The lump in Anna’s throat grew as she looked at the group of men. She did not know which of them would return. She placed her hand on his arm. “I care about all of you, Captain. Even though you attempt to convince me that you and your band are blackhearted scoundrels, I have found you to be quite the opposite.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I wish you well, Captain Alastair Courtney.”

  The grin returned accompanied by increased color in his sun-darkened cheeks. He cleared his throat, bowed his head again, and left to join Mr. Blackbird.

  Anna turned and found Philip standing in the doorway. A sword was strapped to his belt, and two muskets protruded from the waist of his trousers. He wore only his shirtsleeves with no cravat, jacket, or waistcoat. His hair was tied back in a string, but without a hat, it blew over his forehead. Even though he was not filthy, unshaven, and scarred like the rest of the group, he appeared every bit the swashbuckling adventurer.

  Anna could not help but stare at the dashing gentleman-turned-pirate, and a flush of heat surged over her, leaving her slightly breathless.

  Philip’s gaze was on her as he stepped down the stairs and strode toward her. “I noticed Captain Courtney received a kiss. Do you reserve your affection for true buccaneers, or might I ask for the same treatment?” He touched a finger to his cheek, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  “You look like a buccaneer, my lord.” Anna’s throat tightened, and she fought to keep back the tears she could feel stinging the backs of her eyes. Would Philip return from the mission?

  “Good,” he said, waggling his brows up and down and turning his cheek toward her.

  How could he possibly tease at a time like this? Anna wondered. She didn’t know how he remained so easy when her insides were tied into knots. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, closing her eyes and breathing in his spicy smell. When she pulled away, tears filled her eyes. She blinked, and they escaped to roll down her cheeks.

  All traces of playfulness fell from his face
in an instant. He slid a hand beneath her ear and wiped his thumb over her wet cheek. “Do not fear, Anna. In a few hours, all will be well.” His gaze held hers, and for just an instant, his confidence slipped, revealing vulnerability in his eyes. And something else as well—fear?

  The sight brought a fresh wave of tears. “I am sorry, Philip. I did not mean to act like a ninny this morning.”

  “I will return, Anna.”

  Her throat closed, and her tears blinded her until she closed her eyes. “How can you know for sure?” she whispered and immediately wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want Philip to think she had any doubts that he would succeed.

  “I will because I must.” He lifted her chin, and she raised her eyes to his. “I will because I know you are here.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek and departed.

  Anna wanted to run away and hide or to strap on a saber of her own and join them, but she knew now what Philip needed. He needed her confidence.

  She climbed the steps and watched as the group set off. She forced a smile to her face and waved until Philip caught her eye one last time. As soon as they were out of sight, Anna’s shoulders slumped, and she brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

  Ezekiel appeared on the step next to her and offered a handkerchief. Even he had lost his smile.

  “Thank you,” she said, wanting to embrace the boy but knowing it would only embarrass him.

  “His lordship will come back, Miss Anna.”

  Anna nodded.

  Ezekiel opened the door and held it for her, but she didn’t want to enter the empty house. “I think I will take a walk, Ezekiel. Would you join me?”

  “Sorry, miss. I must press my lord’s cravats.”

  “Of course.”

  Ezekiel bowed and entered the house, leaving her alone.

  Anna walked slowly down the steps. She didn’t want to continue in the direction the men had gone, so she strolled around the side of the house and made a point of admiring the colorful flowers.

  An image flashed into her mind. I am on a dock, held in my father’s arms, waving a handkerchief toward a ship. Who was she waving at? Was the ship arriving or departing? She tried but could not see her father’s face. Still, somehow she knew that was who it was. The surety that she had a father, that he held her in his arms, comforted her.

  Her tears slowed, and she no longer felt desperate and frantic. She was resigned, as was Philip, that this was the best course. Captain Courtney and his men were fighters. She remembered the sure way they had handled their weapons, and it comforted her a bit more. Remembering the pirate captain’s promise helped as well. He would protect Philip, and a pirate’s oath is worth its weight in gold.

  She knew Philip was grateful to be doing something instead of looking over his shoulder every moment in trepidation, worrying about what Horace might do. This time they had the element of surprise, which gave them an advantage. That knowledge eased the fear but did not completely abolish it.

  Anna rounded the corner of the house and came face to face with Malachi. She gasped. “Oh my. You startled me.”

  He stepped back. “Excuse me. I did no’ mean to scare you.”

  Anna’s heartbeat sped up as it did each time she’d saw the man. But she did not feel the shiver of fear accompanying it. Malachi didn’t seem as intimidating as he had before. “I am not scared.”

  He smiled slightly, watching her. He pointed to the scars on his forehead and cheeks. “Dis is frighten you befo’.”

  “Yes.” Anna blushed as she admitted it. “But it does not frighten me now.”

  His eyes squinted, and he nodded once. He pointed at her bare arm. “De firs’ time I see men wit’ white skin, I t’ought dey was devils. Dey climb over de wall of my village and take me and my sister away from our home. I was frighten’ of de strange talk and hairy faces.”

  “They were devils, Malachi.” She studied his face. Beneath the mask of scars, his eyes were kind, sad even, and she found that she was not frightened at all. “I was going to see if Betty needed help in the kitchen building. Would you like to walk with me?”

  He dipped his head and walked next to her toward the back of the Great House.

  Anna glanced at him from the side of her eye. Malachi was still the largest man she had ever seen, but in his low voice and soft tones she perceived a gentle giant instead of the menacing hulk she had assumed him to be. “What happened to your sister?” she asked, hoping that she wouldn’t offend him by prying into his personal life. “Is she here in Oakley Park?”

  “When we come to Jamaica, the ol’ busha take me, but I will not leave wit’ ou’ her. So he take her too. When he wan’ to punish me, he punish her. And one time, he sen’ her far away”—Malachi’s expression did not change, but his eyes were pained—“to punish me,” he finished softly.

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “She is dead.”

  “I am so sorry. What was her name?”

  “Aminata,” he said in a quiet voice. “I call her Ami.”

  Anna thought of a frightened brother and sister taken from their homes and forced into slavery. The only family Malachi had was gone, and her heart ached for him.

  “I work hard. Buy my free papers. Seven years. Den I work to buy hers. But when I get to Whitehouse, she is already dead.”

  “Whitehouse?” Anna said slowly. The story sounded familiar. Betty had said her friend went to Whitehouse. “Is Ezekiel Ami’s son?”

  “Yes.” Malachi raised his brows and turned to her.

  Anna turned over the information in her head. The pieces of the puzzle tumbled around, and her mind worked to put them together. “And you purchased his freedom instead.”

  He nodded again.

  “And Ezekiel’s leg—the injury happened while he was at Whitehouse?” Anna could not imagine Malachi would have allowed the boy to be harmed under his care. It must have happened before.

  “De doctor say his leg was broke and not put right. It healed badly.”

  Poor Ezekiel. A child with a broken leg seemed such a simple thing for a doctor to mend. Anna’s chest ached. They rounded the back corner of the house and neared the kitchen building.

  “Why would you return to Oakely Park and its cruel overseer when you and Ezekiel were free to go anywhere you like?” Anna asked. Betty. The last piece clicked into place, and she spoke before he could answer her. “You returned for Betty.”

  He said nothing, but Anna saw the truth in his eyes. And along with it, fear. She realized why his feelings for Betty were kept secret. Malachi knew if they were discovered, the relationship could be used against him as his sister’s life had been.

  Anna stopped walking and turned to him. “I’ll not reveal your private affairs, Malachi. You can trust me.”

  He was quiet as he watched her, and finally he raised his chin. “T’ank you.” His gaze moved to the kitchen building and then back to her. “When yo’ life is no’ yo’ own, you hold those t’ings dat are yours close to yo’ heart.”

  Anna felt a rush of compassion for this man. For Betty. For Ezekiel. For all the slaves in Jamaica. People who suffered physical and emotional pain and found their only strength in concealing the things that made them human.

  They walked the remainder of the distance in silence, and when they reached the kitchen building, Anna opened the door and peeked inside. Betty was not there.

  “Maybe she is in the house,” Anna said.

  They crossed the small court to the outer dining room door. Malachi held it for her, but before she stepped inside, they both paused, hearing a sound from the front yard.

  “Horses,” Anna said, rushing past Malachi into the house. She hurried through the dining room, down the hallway, and into the drawing room to watch from the large windows. Had the company returned so soon? Had everything gone to plan? Was it really over? She stepped into the bay of the windows and peered up the lane.

  A grand carriage—an open landau—pulled by four horses approac
hed. Anna’s stomach hardened as she recognized the lone passenger. Clarissa Stapleton.

  Chapter 21

  Philip followed Mr. Blackbird through the jungle on the side of the road. It didn’t matter how carefully he tried; he could not make his footsteps and movements as silent as his companion’s. He had learned—through very few words on Mr. Blackbird’s part—that the man was an Iroquois of the Mohawk tribe. His people were driven from their land in New York after the Americans revolted against the Crown. The tribe settled in Canada, where they joined with the British to fight against the American colonists.

  Mr. Blackbird had been a crew member of a ship Captain Courtney had captured and had joined the buccaneers without question. His former captain was “not fond of Indians.” The statement was the only clue Mr. Blackbird gave as to his experience in the navy, but the way in which he said it gave Philip reason to believe he had been treated cruelly.

  They pushed through the vegetation without the benefit of a machete to clear a path, trying to keep the wagons in view while they themselves remained hidden. Mostly it was the noise of horses and the creaks of the wooden wheels that kept them apprised of the caravan’s position. They lagged behind—trying to keep fifty meters between them and the wagons. When the highwaymen attacked, they would be surrounded and caught unawares.

  He thought of how different this journey was than the one of the day before. When he’d walked with Anna, he’d not even noticed the heat and the insects and the scratching branches. Their outing had started out pleasant, enjoyable even. He’d watched Anna study every flower, bird, even insect with interest, and even now, his mind turned to her, wondering how she fared after they’d left Oakely Park. Though she had put on a brave face, he had seen apprehension in her eyes.

  Philip’s cheek tingled where Anna had kissed him. He pressed his fingers to the spot, remembering the softness of her touch. Her eyes had been wet and frightened, and the sight of her lip trembling made his heart twinge. He would do almost anything to keep her from tears.