The Pirate's Jewel

by Cheryl Howe

  “Stop fighting me. I’ve got you,” Nolan said.

  She stopped thrashing at his rebuke, hardly aware that she’d been doing so. Too weak to do otherwise, she let Nolan guide her through the water until, without a word of warning, strong arms yanked her into the skiff. Her eyes burned from the saltwater, and her throat ached from swallowing the stuff. No wonder she had never had the urge to learn to swim. Who would want to? She was soaked from the inside out and completely numb. The men shoved her in the back of the boat, forcing her to sit in the bottom. She felt like a big fish being taken home for supper. A big, dead fish. Nothing would ever be right again. Her childhood dreams of adventure had turned into a nightmare that even Nolan couldn’t wake her from.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Cut the anchor line!” Nolan yelled as he hauled himself over the Integrity’s railing.

  “We’ve almost got her raised, Cap’n.”

  Seven strong crew members leaned all their weight against the wooden arms of the capstan to raise the anchor from the ocean’s depth. Their grunts of exertion revealed their understanding of the need for a quick departure. The newly rescued crewmen joined their mates, and the capstan practically spun on its axis.

  “Good work, Mr. Lamont.” Nolan raced to take the helm. “Raise the sails. Unfurl the main!” Thankfully, the tide was with them. One man was dead, another wounded. The British wouldn’t take that lightly. They were in on the beginning of a rebellion, and Nolan loved it.

  The fight had exhilarated him. He could still feel his heart racing. It had been a long while since he had done physical battle, and even longer since battle had moved him. His last years with Bellamy had been numbing. He had seen so much bloodshed, and his skill had grown to the point where he had lost all fear. Worse, he’d been fighting for things he’d stopped believing in. He’d been fighting for monetary gain.

  Nolan spun the wheel hard to the right, readying the Integrity to fly from the harbor once the main sail was unfurled. Tonight’s battle had been different. This truly had been about freedom and a man’s choice of how he would live his life, not a young boy’s wayward wish for glory and adventure.

  The wind caught the ship’s sails, and the Integrity was thrust forward, racing off to their next destination. For Nolan, it was almost ecstasy. Almost.

  His thoughts turned to Jewel. God, but she had surprised him. At first her presence on the Neptune had sent cold fear running down his spine, but then there was no time to think at all. Jewel had matched her opponent thrust for thrust. And she had bloody well saved his life. With the cut on his arm, he couldn’t have defended himself against two men. He realized, with only a slight twinge of horror, that he was glad she’d killed her opponent. During the battle, Nolan had almost forfeited his own fight with his constant glances her way.

  He looked down at his wound for the first time, finding his wet sleeve colored with blood and a healthy dose of red dotting the puddle of sea water at his feet. Once they were safely out to sea, there would be time to attend to it.

  They cleared the harbor. As they did, Nolan let up on the helm and pointed the Integrity on a steady course, running with the wind astern. Jewel had had no other choice but to aim for her victim’s heart. She couldn’t risk a flesh wound. Her opponent had outweighed her by almost double. He would have killed her if he had gotten his hands on her. Death was her only option, and Nolan was glad she’d had the courage to take it.

  He steadied the wheel against a fierce wind. Waves had begun to crawl over the deck in regular intervals. A storm was brewing. Nolan checked the sky to find the stars being crowded out by roiling clouds shot through with charcoal gray. Hurricane season had hardly begun, but he was well acquainted with the unpredictability of the sea. He wouldn’t be surprised with anything thrown his way. After tonight’s triumph, he felt as if he could conquer anything.

  A huge swell broke over the deck. He was already soaked, so Nolan took little notice when the foam washed over his ruined boots. At least it wiped away the traces of blood from his arm. Ignoring the growing throb in his wound, he ordered the main topsail reefed against the growing howl of wind.

  Parker rushed forward, out of breath. “Something’s wrong with Jewel. She’s sick.”

  Nolan raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t take his gaze off the churning sea. “Seasickness?” He hadn’t noticed Jewel to be affected before, but the ocean had definitely turned wicked as they’d veered away from the shelter of the Bahamas. Or was it...

  Nolan could have kicked himself. How could he have forgotten how Jewel would feel after killing a man? She’d fought so well, it hadn’t occurred to him she had never killed before.

  He had been like her once, and he remembered the first time he ran a man through. He’d been so exhilarated from fear and victory, he hadn’t thought of the life he had taken until he closed his eyes to sleep. Then, the restless night had been spent unwillingly recalling the features of the dead man.

  He’d been burly and twice Nolan’s age. The fight had broken out in a tavern after a late night of drinking and whoring. Nolan had been too young to do much of either, but he’d had no choice but to join in the fray or he wouldn’t have left the tavern alive. The man had engaged him, no doubt expecting an easy kill to warm up his sword arm. Desperation had made Nolan quick, and he’d stuck the man in the gut before his opponent ever took a proper jab. The man had died with shocked surprise on his face. His eyes had stared at Nolan all night. If he tried, Nolan could still remember. Over the years, he’d learned never to try.

  “Take the helm. I’ll see to her. Is she in her cabin?” he asked.

  Parker relaxed visibly. Obviously he found steering a ship into a storm a preferable task to dealing with a hysterical woman. “She’s hanging over the railing. You can’t miss her. Wayland’s with her.”

  Nolan heard Jewel before he saw her. Her sobs drifted over the roar of the waves, and he braced himself against the tumble of emotions she evoked. Empathy, compassion—and a protectiveness laced with a possessiveness he recognized as all too dangerous—collided and surged in chorus with the storm. He didn’t want anyone else to be with Jewel but him.

  Despite the warning that urged him to stay clear of her, Nolan quickened his pace. Wayland had his arm around Jewel, keeping her from tumbling off the ship in the event of a large swell. She had her head hung over the side and didn’t see him approach.

  He gestured with a nod of his head for Wayland to go. For once, the man eagerly obeyed.

  Nolan wrapped his arm around Jewel’s stomach, bracing her backside against him so he could massage her shoulders with his other hand. She instantly stiffened at the intimacy.

  “It’s all right. I know you’re hurting. I should have been here sooner,” he said in a soothing tone he hadn’t even known he possessed.

  She relaxed against him, and Nolan bit back a groan. She felt so good. But it hadn’t been his intent to take advantage, just to comfort her. And he’d be damned if he would give in to how she felt.

  “Harvey never taught me to wound my opponents, just to kill them,” she said suddenly. “I think he thought I was just having fun and would never get into a real swordfight,” she added between sniffles.

  “I think he taught you well. You had no choice. In a real fight, you can’t aim to wound when your opponent is aiming to kill.”

  “But you didn’t kill...” Her words trailed off. He heard her ragged breaths and understood she was struggling not to cry.

  “I probably should have. Dead men can’t tell tales, nor can they find you later.”

  Jewel shivered. “I can’t think like that.”

  He pulled her more snugly against him, wrapping her in his arms to warm her with his body. “It’s the only way, if you live by the sword. Your father taught me that.”

  Her slight tremble warned him that she had given into her tears. The silent sobs were worse than any loud, hair-raising ones. Why was he saying this? He was supposed to be comforting her, not sharing his feelings
. “It was a hard lesson to learn for me, too, Jewel, but learning it kept me alive. I’m glad you did what you did, or we could have been the ones left lying on the Neptune’s deck.”

  “I wish I had died.”

  Nolan squeezed her tightly. “Don’t say that!” She remained motionless in his arms. He turned her to face him, squeezing her arms. “Don’t ever say that again.”

  She hung her head, avoiding his gaze. “I feel so wretched. I was a fool to sneak onto your ship in the first place.”

  And in that moment, Nolan realized the extent to which his life had changed because she had. If she hadn’t forced her way into his life, he would have likely spent years chasing a false trail. She’d seen something he never would have. She was a kind, smart, beautiful woman. And though he tried to convince himself those were the only reasons he experienced such a tremendous sense of loss at her words of woe, he couldn’t.

  He lifted Jewel’s chin, forcing her to gaze up at him. “You saved my life,” was all he felt safe revealing. A tremendous surge of emotion savagely swamped him, leaving him as off balance as his ship riding the storm. “You need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel better.” She leaned her forehead on his chest.

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. The brisk wind had chilled her wet clothing. Her shirt felt like a sheet of ice. He kissed the top of her head, pulling her into him. A drop of rain fell on his cheek. He lifted his head before he became lost in the embrace. Luckily, none of the crew paid any attention. They were too busy reacting to the storm.

  He gently set Jewel away from him. She stared up at him, her eyes wet and full of a sorrow he’d do anything to erase.

  He wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. A raindrop quickly replaced it.

  “Don’t cry. It will be all right. Go to your cabin and get some rest.”

  Jewel clutched his sleeve. Nolan winced and pulled his arm away.

  “You’re hurt.” She eased out of his embrace. “I’d forgotten. Let me see.”

  His arm didn’t bother him, but it would if she tended it. She needed to rest. He wanted to see her back in good spirits. A compromise quickly came to mind. “I have a young surgeon on board, and he can use the practice. As soon as I know you’re in your cabin trying to get some sleep, I’ll have him tend to it.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, seeming to struggle with something. “Nolan, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He understood. But he couldn’t watch over her with the storm on their tail. He struggled to choose one of his men who could stay with her until she fell asleep. Someone he could trust with her. Wayland came to mind, but only because Jewel would find him unattractive. He couldn’t blame her. Wayland wasn’t exactly cuddly. He swallowed his jealousy. Jewel was too important not to swallow it. “Would you like Parker to keep you company?”

  “No. I want you.” She dragged her thumb across the hollow of his cheek. The touch, combined with the words he took secret, selfish pleasure in hearing, proved as erotic as anything he’d ever had said to him.

  “I have to have my arm tended, and see to the ship. I’ll check on you after that. But you have to promise to change into dry clothing and try to get some sleep.” Nolan knew he shouldn’t be making such an offer, but he could deny her nothing at that moment.

  “I promise if you promise you won’t forget about me.”

  Nolan took a deep breath. “I couldn’t forget about you even if I tried.”

  Jewel gazed up, obviously trying to see through him. Hiding his feelings from her was growing increasingly difficult. He cared more than he wanted to, but now was not the time to withhold the one thing he could give her—his honest compassion. He kissed her knuckles. “Go, before I change my mind and send Wayland in my place.” His teasing succeeded in getting Jewel to smile. She took a step back, holding his gaze, and then turned and hurried below deck.

  The patter of rain increased to a steady pour as Nolan went to check on Parker’s progress before locating the surgeon. When he was done, he’d send Jewel grog spiked with Wayland’s special brew. A hot meal would be better, but they couldn’t light a fire with the unsteady sea. With any luck, the combination of an empty stomach and strong spirits would knock her out before he did something they’d both regret.

  ***

  The sea’s violent thrashing surrendered to the sky’s dominance as the dark clouds unleashed their fury.

  A steady pounding on the deck above assured Nolan the weather had not changed since he had retired to his temporary cabin. Despite the needle dipping in and out of his arm, he relaxed. “Aren’t you through yet? I should have let Mr. Blake stitch me after all.”

  Wayland poked him extra hard with the next pass of the needle. “Aye, but you didn’t let that young puppy do it. Ya came to old Wayland. And not a bloody moment too soon. I hate sewing up a festering wound.” He made an over-exaggerated sound of disgust.

  Nolan glanced down. Though they sat huddled together on the small bunk, he had avoided watching Wayland’s progress. “It hasn’t had time to fester. And I came to you because I thought you could get it done fast.” And because Blake was a pup. Nolan would rather his young surgeon practice on someone else. He didn’t want another jagged scar, but he’d keep that to himself.

  Wayland picked up a bottle and offered it to him. When he refused, the old pirate poured the fiery liquid down Nolan’s arm. Nolan jumped and cursed. “What’s in that? Gunpowder?”

  Wayland chuckled. “No, no ‘Blow-me-down’ tonight.”

  Thank God for that. The last time he partook of “Blow-me-down”—a Madagascar favorite among pirates; a concoction mixed with gunpowder for an added kick—Nolan had woken up naked under a table at one of Bellamy’s favorite taverns, two whole days unaccounted for. “Is that what you gave to Jewel? I hope it didn’t make her sick.”

  Wayland’s brows narrowed, and he focused on sewing Nolan’s wound. The grizzled old pirate’s uncharacteristic silence made Nolan long for his usual bizarre words of lunatic wisdom. Wayland pulled the stitching tight. “The lass looked awful pale. She was asking for you. Wanted to see you something fierce. Said you were coming later.”

  The silence had been better after all. Another forceful jab of the needle made Nolan clench his jaw. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. He was beginning to feel like a pincushion, and he had no doubt that was what Wayland intended.

  “You got no business using the chit like this, Nolan. Bellamy wouldn’t like it.” Wayland squeezed the wound. Blood seeped out from between the stitches. “Puss. Told you it was festering.”

  Nolan jerked his arm away, the curved needle dangling from the thread that crisscrossed his biceps. He would have finished the job himself, but stitching wounds had always made him queasier than delivering them. “Bellamy never did a damn thing for his daughter. The only time he ever saw her was to use her. The only reason he gave her that map was to keep me with him. He’d thought to keep me in line by putting his innocent child in danger.”

  Wayland poured more rum over the wound. Nolan sucked air through his teeth. He grabbed the bottle out of Wayland’s hands and took a long swallow. The liquid hit his empty stomach like an ember bursting into flame.

  Wayland took back the bottle and set it on the small table near the bunk. “Don’t know nothing about that. But I know Jewel ain’t no child now. All I know is, she saved your life and now she’s paying the price. I don’t like to see women doing men’s work.”

  Nolan stood. “I didn’t ask her to kill that man. Or to come along.”

  Wayland remained where he was. “Sit down. I’m not done.”

  Nolan eased back down, but only so Wayland could finish stitching. He didn’t need the pirate to tell him how to handle Jewel. He knew he owed her his life—but that wasn’t why he wanted to comfort her, to take care of her. It was more than that.

  Wayland patted his wound with a white cloth. Nolan loo
ked down at his clenched fists. He forced himself to relax so the man could continue. “I thought you were pushing us together.”

  Wayland poured rum on the cloth, and then wiped off the needle. “Maybe I changed my mind since I got to know her. It ain’t right for you to be after her like a rutting sea lion. You being the man who killed her father and all.”

  Nolan forced himself not to move. Having an argument with a man who was sewing your flesh together put you at a disadvantage. He kept his voice low and controlled. “I’m not after her. And taking Bellamy out of her life was one of the best things I could have done. However”—Nolan ground out the rest through clenched teeth—“I…didn’t…kill…Bellamy.”

  Wayland’s next jab with the needle felt as if it had been fired from a cannon. “All right. Well, Jewel ain’t no whore. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I know that!” And he’d not explain himself further. Nolan had come to realize during their conversation regarding Wayland’s advice that Jewel had some misguided ideas of love attached to their mutual physical attraction. He’d not hurt her by taking advantage of that. She’d had enough illusions shattered for one lifetime. Unfortunately, she needed someone to comfort her right now, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

  Jewel was his now. He owed her. He might deny it to Wayland, but he did feel responsible for Bellamy’s death. And if he’d been reluctant to shoulder any responsibility for Jewel before, the fact that she’d saved his life changed it. Not only did he owe it to her to help her through her grief tonight, he had to do it. He would give her what he’d never had, and maybe she could put her brush with brutality behind her instead of carrying it around for the rest of her life.