The Pirate's Jewel

by Cheryl Howe

  Wayland pulled a silver flask out from his trousers. He knelt in front of her and lifted her skirt. He paused, a pink tinge creeping across his tobacco-colored skin. For the second time in their acquaintance, she’d made Wayland blush, a reaction she’d not thought possible from the grizzled pirate.

  He lowered his gaze. “I figured you wore those petticoat things. They’re made of soft cotton, so it won’t scratch your skin so much. Make a fine bandage.”

  Jewel smiled. “I do. Go ahead.” Now that she’d found Wayland’s soft spot, she couldn’t let the moment pass without getting him back for the thousand times he’d caused her to blush—even if her shoulder had gone from icy numb to burning hot. “I didn’t realize you were so familiar with a lady’s unmentionables.”

  Bellamy squatted, studying her wound. “Most of the women Wayland knows would be insulted if you were to call them ladies. They don’t wear anything but a light skirt that’s easy to toss over their heads.”

  Jewel refused to acknowledge her father. Instead, she watched Nolan, fearing her father’s nearness would cause them to come to blows again. Nolan stared straight ahead, his gaze unfocused. Though he still gripped her hand tighter than necessary, she understood his mind was not on her. She could see the muscle working in his jaw and feel the fury rolling off him like white heat.

  Asking him not to fight with her father had been a mistake. A mere day of pent-up anger had left him more volatile than she’d ever seen him. A lifetime would eat him alive and pervert any love he felt for Jewel into hate. Her father had been right, damn him.

  Wayland poured the contents of his flask onto the bunched cloth from her petticoat and pressed it to her wound. She drew a sharp breath between her teeth. The fire in her shoulder exploded into a thousand tiny sparks hot enough to sear her flesh. She exhaled on a sob.

  Wayland wiped away the excess blood and examined the wound once more. “It’s a puny thing. Bled more than it’s worth. Don’t even need a bandage. The fresh air will heal it faster than anything.”

  He pulled out a small knife and cut away the fabric that surrounded the wound. “There.” He handed her the flask. “Clean it at night and in the morning. In a couple of days, you’ll have forgotten it altogether.”

  Jewel twisted to examine the wound herself. The sun had disappeared completely. In the light blue twilight, the wound looked little more than a thick scratch.

  Wayland resheathed the knife, and then stood. He looked at Bellamy and Nolan. “Now, let’s settle things between you two, so the rest of us can have long and healthy lives.”

  Nolan’s wet grip tugged from Jewel’s and he got to his feet. Jewel let him go without a fight. She really had no choice. Though he hadn’t strayed from her side, he might as well have been an ocean away. She pushed herself to a sitting position, still feeling too unsteady to stand—whether from the wound or the drift of the conversation, she couldn’t say.

  He faced Bellamy, his stance that of a broad-shouldered avenging shadow in the growing darkness. “Tonight, on the beach. We’ll light torches and the crew can stand witness.”

  Bellamy folded his arms over his barrel chest, looking way too happy with the turn of events. “Don’t sound too fair to me. As I remember, last time you also had a crew on your side.”

  “I’ll relinquish command of the crew to Mr. Tyrell right now.” Nolan glanced at Parker.

  The lieutenant straightened from the palm trunk where he’d been leaning. “Is that really necessary? How far are you two actually going take this feud of yours?”

  “Nope,” said Bellamy. “If I win, I get the crew and the ship just like what you stole from me.”

  Nolan squared his shoulders, narrowing his gaze. “My crew wouldn’t serve under you even if you delivered them my head on a platter.”

  Parker strode to stand between them. “No one is putting anyone’s head on a platter.” He glanced at Jewel. “Do you think she wants to hear this?” he asked Nolan.

  Jewel closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. The image of Nolan’s words had already turned her stomach. It was too late for him to take them back as Parker urged.

  “I have to finish this once and for all. No matter the outcome. The way things are right now isn’t healthy—especially for Jewel. I think that’s obvious.” She heard Nolan’s voice, felt his gaze rest on her, but she refused to acknowledge him. Did he actually expect her to agree?

  Wayland joined them. “Save it for when you got your sword in your hand.” He turned to Bellamy. “Nolan earned the respect of your crew while you lost it. He doesn’t have to order his crew to follow you. This fight is between you two and nothing more.”

  “Fine.” Bellamy’s smile shone in the dark. “The sooner the better.”

  “I’m not going to be a part of this.” Parker’s voice rose a few notches.

  “Afraid of a little bloodshed, boy?” Bellamy laughed. “Some fierce crew you got here, Nolan.”

  Parker swung his gaze toward Jewel’s father. “You deserved a lashing for trying to drown Nolan—or better yet, he should haul you in and let them hang you in Charles Town. From what I’ve heard, you no doubt have a price on your head.” He turned to Nolan. “Fighting the British for our freedom is one thing, but, Nolan, why would you waste your skill and time proving something to this common criminal? I say, lock him in irons and let the authorities deal with him.”

  “Parker, no. They’ll hang him.” Jewel struggled to her feet. She didn’t like the idea of Nolan and her father having another swordfight, but neither did she like Parker’s idea.

  “I’d like to see Nolan try to throw me in chains. Who’s going to help him—you, puppy?” Bellamy sneered at Parker.

  Parker held the man’s gaze for a moment before he glanced away, apparently choosing to ignore the taunt. Though, he didn’t definitively back down either. He squared a shoulder that had gotten noticeably broader since the start of the journey.

  Nolan broke the tension between them. “Jewel’s right. I won’t turn Bellamy in as a pirate. I’d have to turn myself in right along with him. We’ll settle this by the rules of the Brethren. A fight to the death.”

  Even Parker seemed too stunned to have an answer for that. If no one would speak up to stop this lunacy, neither would Jewel. She felt Nolan’s gaze on her again and forced herself to meet his eyes. The first scattering of stars dotted the sky, pulsing in glee while the man she loved stared at her without the slightest hint of a smile. His expression mirrored the bleakness that sank through her limbs, numbing even the wound in her shoulder.

  “I have to do this,” Nolan said to her, though loud enough for all to hear.

  She forced herself not to blink or glance away. “I know.”

  He turned back to the other men. “The rules are—there are no rules. Agreed?”

  Bellamy pointed at Parker. “Tell pretty boy over here that the crew is not to get involved. Even after I’ve stuck so many holes in you you’ll be spewing blood like a fountain.”

  Parker’s voice sounded lower than normal. He’d recovered from his shock with a new surge of anger. “I won’t interfere. I won’t be around to see it.” He strode past them and into the jungle.

  “Lads today have no respect for their elders,” mumbled Bellamy.

  “Are we agreed?” asked Wayland.

  “Agreed,” said her father and husband in unison.

  Jewel closed her eyes to block out the sight of her father and Nolan staring at each other with such undisguised hatred. She would lose one of them. As desperately as she loved Nolan, she couldn’t wish her own father to die. She also knew Nolan would rather die in a fair fight than live the rest of his life forcing himself to be civil to a man he despised with his whole being. Either way, Jewel would lose. “Agreed,” she whispered to no one in particular.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Nolan paced the perimeter of light created by the torches, while they waited for a crewman to bring the swords from the ship. Ordinary cutlasses wouldn’t
do for this occasion. Nolan had two beautiful, well-balanced swords crafted from Damascus steel hoarded from his days with Bellamy. The gold hilts each sported two rubies and a large emerald, but that wasn’t why Nolan kept them when he had renounced every other ill-gotten item he had acquired in his youth as a pirate. He had convinced himself the weapons represented a perfection in craftsmanship that he valued above their monetary worth. But the truth was, he had saved them for this moment. The swords were perfectly matched. Neither he nor Bellamy would have any advantage in weaponry.

  He stole a glance at Bellamy, who looked peaceful and calm as he lounged in the shadows of the night. The older man saved his strength. He would need it.

  Nolan fed on his anger, not wanting to sit and calm down. All he needed was to close his eyes and see the blood staining Jewel’s dress, and endless, hot strength spewed up within him. He glanced around the men crowded on the beach. That Jewel was not among the crew saved them both the emotional turmoil sending her away would surely cause, a distraction he couldn’t afford. After this was all over, he would find a way to convince her to still love him. And if he didn’t win, it wouldn’t matter.

  Though Parker was barely speaking to him and certainly not taking his orders, the man agreed to watch out for Jewel during the fight. He didn’t say it, but it was understood his care would extend beyond that as well if need be. Not that Nolan still believed a romance budded between them, but Parker was a good man with three sisters and a mother. He knew what women needed better than most. Also, though his sexual preferences ranged on the edge of deviant, Parker was an honest man.

  That he was so adamantly against what Nolan was about to prove might mean he was a better one. Though Nolan believed in the revolution, would fight for the patriots the best he could, his longing to have another chance at Bellamy was greater than his commitment to that cause. Not even the promise of the treasure waiting in his ship could persuade him otherwise.

  Nolan had never beaten Bellamy in a fight. True enough, Nolan had had the crew behind him during the mutiny, and the fact that Bellamy had been on a month-long bender rendered him easy to overpower. At the moment, Leggett appeared more sober and alert than Nolan had ever seen him. But neither was Nolan still a boy. He was a man, with a man’s anger. He had waited years for this. Fear of death or love for a woman could not stop the inevitable. His hatred of Bellamy had been building for too long.

  Nolan turned at the sound of someone trudging across the beach. The crewman lumbered under the weight of the large box encasing his swords. The man fell to his knees when he reached the center of the circle of light. Nolan strode toward him. The sand’s density, which left the other man panting, didn’t slow Nolan’s pace. Nothing would. Nolan flipped up the case’s lid. He lifted one of the heavy swords with the same effort it would normally take to lift a bamboo reed. He turned toward the nearest torch, letting the jewels in the hilt come alive and the blade’s steel wink in deadly contrast.

  Bellamy remained lounging under a palm tree where the jungle encroached on the long stretch of beach, his face hidden in the shadows. Nolan strode forward and, without warning, tossed a sword to him by the hilt. Bellamy caught it with a minimum of motion. His actions were swift and sure, like a diver cleaving a still pond without a ripple. Either his relaxed pose was feigned, or Bellamy’s reflexes hadn’t lost their sharpness over the years. If anything, they had quickened. Then again, Bellamy didn’t drink near as much as he used to.

  Nolan turned to retrieve his own sword. The first shiver of fear penetrated the heat of his anger. He wrapped his fingers around the cool hilt. His determination quelled his fear. He had no choice in this. Never again would he let Bellamy manipulate him. Nolan’s time had come, and he planned to prove it to Bellamy—even if he had to kill the man to do so.

  Quickly, Nolan composed himself and turned to face Bellamy. His stance had changed to that of a seasoned warrior. He gingerly tested the edge of his sword with his fingertip, and then raised his weapon and slashed through a small tree. The sapling tumbled in two neat pieces on the sand. Bellamy nodded in satisfaction.

  Wayland moved to the center of the light cast by the torches, signaling to Bellamy and Nolan to step forward. The crew’s unusual silence added to the confrontation’s seriousness. No yells of encouragement or heckling penetrated the heavy tension. This was no friendly tussle. This was a fight to the death, and everyone knew it.

  Wayland stood between Bellamy and Nolan. “I want you two to shed everything but your breeches. I don’t want no extra weapons sneaking into this. This fight’s going to be a fair one.”

  Nolan kept his gaze on Bellamy while he shrugged out of his shirt. Bellamy glanced at the scar on Nolan’s chest. Nolan stiffened.

  Bellamy smirked. “Didn’t learn your lesson the last time we fought over my girl, did ya, boy?”

  Nolan yanked off his boots. His anger made his motions stiff and the simple task difficult. “She isn’t your girl anymore. She’s my wife. Nor am I a boy. Your daughter can verify that.”

  Apparently, Nolan’s words finally nicked Bellamy’s composure. His jaw clenched, and he buried the tip of his sword in the sand. He stripped off his shirt in angry movements that matched Nolan’s. “She’s going to be a widow, is what she’s going to be.” The handle of a knife stuck from Bellamy’s breeches. He pulled it from his waistband and dropped it to the ground. “Even if you win, you’re going to lose, Nolan.”

  Barefoot and bare-chested, Nolan picked up his sword and backed away. He knew Bellamy was right, but the man he thought himself to be, the man he needed to be, wouldn’t rest until he proved Bellamy couldn’t beat him. “That won’t stop me from drawing your blood.”

  Bellamy retrieved his sword from the sand. He held it in front of him, as if expecting Nolan to attack at any minute.

  “Wait.” Wayland stepped between them. The rest of the crew kept their distance. Wayland strode toward Bellamy. “Lift your arms.”

  Bellamy did as instructed. He lifted the sword above his head effortlessly. Nolan felt that twinge of fear return. He wouldn’t put it past Bellamy to have signed a pact with the devil. How else could he have remained so strong after all these years? And in one piece. Most pirates had been hacked away like Wayland and Handsome Jack. It was a testament to Bellamy’s strength and cunning, his looks. Nolan gripped the handle of his sword. The scar on his chest itched with memories of their last battle.

  Wayland circled Bellamy, searching him with his gaze. Shaking his head, he pulled something from the back of the ex-pirate captain’s breeches. He tossed the pistol to the ground. Hands on hips, he faced Bellamy. “You got anything else hidden, or do you want me to go fumbling around your Jolly Roger?”

  Bellamy glanced at Wayland and smirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s it.”

  Wayland stalked away, grumbling under his breath. Bellamy called to his back, “Hey. Aren’t you going to search our boy, Nolan?”

  “He’s too honest for his own good. That’s why you two are fighting.” Wayland turned to face them. “Have at it, lads. Kill each other.”

  Nolan held his sword in front of him with both hands. His initial impulse was to rush Bellamy and take the first swing. He denied his desire, opting for a more strategic attack. He waited for an opening. He forced all his raw anger back in on itself. He would have his chance.

  Bellamy grinned and winked, apparently amused when Nolan held his ground. It was obvious he had expected a wild, emotional attack as well. “Learned something, have you, boy?” He started to circle.

  Nolan followed Bellamy’s movements, keeping his opponent in front of him. Ignoring Bellamy’s confident grin, he focused on the man’s blade. He wouldn’t let Bellamy taunt him. He was no longer an adolescent with more temper than sense. “Bet Jewel’s glad you’re not rushing ahead of yourself, anymore. Remember that whore on Tortuga you liked so much? What was her name?”

  Bellamy continued to circle wide and Nolan followed, with tighter, more concentrated s
teps. He studied every twitch of Bellamy’s taut muscles. Bellamy’s cajoling bounced off Nolan’s icy concentration. The first slip or opening, Nolan would be there.

  “Rosalinda. Aye, that was her name. She used to come to me after you had worn yourself out on her. She needed a real man to satisfy her after your boorish fumbling. We used to laugh about it, we did.”

  Nolan smiled. Not because of anything Bellamy said. He heard the words but didn’t quite process their meaning. Bellamy’s wide circles were tiring him. The powdery sand could wear a man out quickly. No doubt Bellamy knew that, but he was waiting for Nolan to lose his temper and attack with uncontrolled ferocity. And why not? Bellamy’s strategy had always worked in the past.

  Not this time.

  “Yep, wonder what my girl thinks about Nolan the Noble in bed. ’Course, she doesn’t know better. Not to worry. Once I do you in, she’ll have her pick of young bucks. Probably a different one every night.” Bellamy lunged.

  Nolan was ready, his stance solid. When Bellamy’s blow came, Nolan put all his strength into parrying. He got his blade under Bellamy’s and used his knees and arms to propel the weapon into the air. He pulled back his sword and jabbed at Bellamy’s ribs. Bellamy fell back into the sand before the blade found its mark. He tried to scoot away, but Nolan charged him. He straddled Bellamy’s prone body and Bellamy abandoned his backward crawl. With both hands, Nolan brought his sword, straight up, positioning it to hammer down into the center of Bellamy’s chest.

  Bellamy stared up at him with a mixture of shock and terror in his eyes. Nolan was glad Jewel wasn’t here. It would hurt her deeply to see her father like this. The thought sobered him like a dunk in icy water.

  He froze, with his sword still poised to strike. No matter what he said, Jewel wouldn’t forgive him for killing her father. He was her husband. He could physically force her to stay with him, he frantically reasoned. She had no one else.