by Andrea Jones
“Raven. My dear.” His manner was steadier, this morning. “Send word when you have need. We’ll not risk more difficulty for the Messengers. Best, perhaps, that we speak through Lily.” He kissed her full on the lips. He seemed in no haste to be rid of her, and for this dignity Raven was grateful. She kissed him in return, receiving the affection he withheld from his other woman.
“I thank you,” Raven replied, “and I will be ready when you sail.” She joined Tom by the door and picked up her basket. Looking back, she braved the fire of Jill’s gaze.
“Lady,” she said, softly, “I did what I could to heal the Black Chief’s wounding. It is not my medicine that he needs.” She raised her hand to Hook, in farewell, and Tom escorted her from the pavilion.
Hook watched her steal away. When she was gone, he turned, stone-faced, to Jill. Still aching and amazed, she searched for words. Yet now that Hook and Jill stood together once more, as of old their need for speech dwindled. While he glared at his brazen Jill, Hook narrowed his eyes as if he found something unexpected.
She heard her voice shake as she began, indignant, “Hook, what on earth—”
But with his broken wrist he commanded silence, waving her words away. He cocked his head, listening to some inaudible signal. Heartbeats passed, and his face began to clear. He strode to Jill and seized her upper arm.
As their bodies touched again, their sense of estrangement lost power. It sank beneath a new sensation, an intuition that prickled with urgency.
“I did not know.” Hook’s gaze roamed her face, as if conning for damage. “I could not sense it.”
The lost emotions came flooding back to fill his features. For Jill too, the circumstances were sliding into place, and she began to comprehend. She stepped backward. “Oh!” Her hurt surged as it mingled with his, to redouble. “Oh, no….Hook, I never betrayed you.” She shook her head. “It was Giovanni I crossed. I spurned him, and I sent him away.”
“You lost consciousness, did you not?”
“I awakened in a cave…sealed within.”
“I lost my sense of you, and I was alone again. And then my eyes deceived me.”
“Your eyes deceived you? What did you see?”
“I saw Deception herself, dressed like a queen.”
Hook took hold of Jill, and pressed her to his breast. She found harbor in his arms. All barriers tumbled down, and their souls flowed together. They imbibed each other’s love, like wanderers finding water in a barren land.
At last, with his wrath washed away, Hook exhaled and said, “Thank the Powers. You are alive.” He held her secure, in the protection she had missed throughout the night.
“It is no wonder you did not perceive the danger,” Jill answered, “I blocked it from even my own mind.”
“Had you not acted as you did, he would have slaughtered you.”
“So I believe.” She shivered, recalling her peril. “And had you not acted as you did…”
“Raven sustained me, but you, my love, triumphed on your own.”
“As did you, Hook, in all the long, long time before we found one another.”
“To believe in Time is to trust in a cheat. I allowed you an hour…”
“…and an eon has passed.” As they gazed their fill of one another, no time ticked at all.
Hook offered his marred arm, and she freed his wrist from the scarf. Gathering up his harness, he thrust his stump in the base of his hook. Together, they settled the straps on his shoulders, then dressed him. With the tip of his claw, he lifted her necklace to watch the colors flow through the opals.
“Always changing,” he reflected, “yet ever the same.”
With their thoughts now open to one another, she held up her crimson hand to him. He raised his left, and they pressed their palms together, their blood bond renewed. Then he circled her fingers with his, and, bringing them to his lips, he kissed them, one by one. He led her to the willow-bough chair, he set her on his lap and wrapped the blanket about them both. There they settled, united once more and grateful to be so, enlightening one another as to the evening’s incidents, while the ocean wind freshened to agitate the tent, and dawn burst upon the beach. With its gaiety and guile, the old night paled away, and the coming day offered its promise.
CHAPTER 25
“Phallusies” and Fantasies
The sounds of the village reached Raven’s ears as she hurried through the cool, dewy grass. Dogs begged for bites of breakfast and women carried water from the river, bantering and sloshing their pails. As soon as Raven entered the encampment, White Bear accosted her.
After her night of intimacy, she jumped to feel his touch on her arm. Her movement startled an unruly blue jay from the bushes. It screamed, and White Bear looked up at it with a scowl, the feathers of his scalp lock twisting in the air as if wishing to fly free like the jay.
“The sun has only just rimmed the horizon. Where did you go, so early?”
Thankful that she had thought to bring her basket, she showed it to her brother-in-law. It was full now, with cradle moss. “The little one must keep dry.” She disengaged from his grasp, and kept her head low, hoping her face did not reveal what she felt. Raven wasn’t sure what that feeling was, and she needed time to herself to identify it. She knew only that it wouldn’t squeeze into White Bear’s tepee. In this new morning, her life force burgeoned like the jaybird, boisterous and boundless.
White Bear wore a blanket wrapped around him, slung over one arm, and his battle-marked chest expanded as he inhaled the fragrant morning air. When he looked over his shoulder, though, he seemed distrustful. Raven understood why; Lean Wolf Silent Hunter stretched out by the tepee door, lolling in a patch of sunlight. He bore an orange band on his biceps, and a lazy smile. White Bear’s voice rumbled low so that Lean Wolf would not overhear. “Lean Wolf came from the forest, too. I feared for your well-being, but I see that you have not been careless. Now that you have returned, you can serve us our morning meal.”
“Yes, White Bear.” Raven followed him home, preparing to hurry past Lean Wolf on her way through the tepee door. Lean Wolf looked more than usually pleased with himself this morning, and Raven’s instinct warned her to be wary. His hunter’s eyes missed nothing when a woman was near, and she knew that her own color was too high to bear his scrutiny.
As she had feared, her disregard of White Bear’s law stirred her spirit. Worse, the Black Chief’s rugged lovemaking had shaken Raven from the role she had chosen. The Shadow Woman ceased to exist last night. Her entanglement with Hook, like that first kiss from Lean Wolf, ignited the desires Raven used to feel for her husband. But while her urges lay so near the surface, she could not afford to draw the braves’ attention. Since Ash’s passing and the shearing of her hair, she had not even a natural curtain behind which to hide. She could not chance finding the Silent Hunter on her trail again. She averted her face from Lean Wolf, and, once she’d greeted Willow in the confines of their home, Raven took a pinch of corn meal from the breakfast fixings and rubbed its grit into her cheeks. She wished she might obscure herself completely, but, knowing that she would soon depart forever, she contented herself in obedience to White Bear.
In the five suns since the baby’s birth, Raven was granted a reprieve from her brother-in-law’s insistence. The nights seemed shorter, broken up as they were by the little one’s hunger. The man’s hunger had had to wait, but Raven understood that the hour must come when she need yield to him. Glancing at her pallet, she viewed the furs that still lay scattered by her nocturnal leave-taking. She did not yet know whether her intrigue with the Black Chief would cause her to react more favorably to White Bear’s lusts. She did not want to find out.
As she worked to prepare the meal, the stimulus of her venture became muted by the soft sides of the dwelling and the trappings of her family. Raven tried to settle into life in the tepee, if only temporarily. She watched her sister tend the bundle of her baby girl; the child burbled and cooed. Raven’s heart swelled wi
th sorrow at how little time was left to share her sister’s company. To tear herself away would be agonizing. To stay would be worse.
Cloaking her emotion, she vowed to keep close to Willow in the days that remained. She knew not with which of the lady’s lovers Cecco’s wife might settle, nor what his frame of mind might be, and she could not risk finding out. In any case, she realized with a pulse of pleasure that she could renew their friendship once she sailed with him. At the thought of traveling over the big water in his great wooden ship, Raven’s own boldness jolted her, and she nearly dropped a platter. She must stop thinking of pirates. She must stop thinking of braves. She must behave like the Shadow Woman she used to be.
One day, soon, she could think again outside the boundaries of her village, as she had done last night. She could choose her path. One single thing was certain. After her encounters with Lean Wolf, with Cecco, and with the Black Chief, the role of ‘wife’ was increasingly difficult to refuse. In recent days, Raven had been touched. She had been loved. Alone again now, just as the Shadow Woman had feared would occur, she felt nearly as bereft as on the day that Ash died.
As she served the meal to White Bear and Lean Wolf, Raven’s knees trembled. She remembered the bright-striped pavilion and the raw, carnal coupling, and she could not look at these men. Her husband was dead. She was a widow desired by each of them. If she wished to fly free like the jaybird, they must not witness her wings.
✽ ✽ ✽
Lightly of the Air skimmed under the canopy of the trees, scanning the forest floor for signs of Mrs. Hanover. Early this morning, he discovered that she had abandoned the Wendy House. Under his arm he carried her dress. In his heart he carried concern. It was his job to watch her, and she had lulled him into trust.
He and Rowan found no indication of force, nor had the twins’ sentry shrieked warning of intruders. No one knew how long she’d been loose, but everyone who knew her had a notion of the kind of damage she could do, in just one evening. Lightly sighed, and prepared to be castigated.
Approaching Neverbay, he saluted the lookout, who waved back and shouted to the company, “Stand down, mates, it’s the Lady’s son. The white Indian.”
Lily, Lelaneh, and Red Fawn came walking toward Lightly from the beach, accompanied by his brothers, the golden-brown skinned twins. They were laden with blankets and bowls, obviously on their way home to the Clearing. Upon seeing her son’s companion, Lily dropped her burden and rushed forward, trailing her flowered shawl. “Are the babies all right?”
“Yes, we had a fine little party. Looks as if you did, too,” Lightly observed, although as the other women came closer, he noted that Red Fawn’s eyes looked somber and hollow. “Rowan’s giving the children breakfast.” Lightly twisted the fringe on his vest and confessed, with reluctance, “The only problem is Mrs. Hanover. She ran away in the night.”
The women showed relief for the children’s safety, yet Lightly was puzzled as they looked suddenly enlightened, nodding at one another with knowing glints in their eyes. Lightly asked, “So you’ve seen her?” He hoped that their signals meant good news, but, at Lily’s answer, his apprehension swelled.
“No, we did not see her. But the commodore did.”
Lightly blanched, and Lily took the dress from his hands. “I will return this to Mr. Yulunga, and tell him what has happened. I advise you to keep your distance for a while.” She reached up to Lightly’s face, soothing him, and pushed his wheat-colored hair from his forehead. “Please tell the children we will be home with them soon.”
“I will, Lily. Thank you.”
She kissed his cheek and waved him off, watching as he leapt in the air, lightly, like his name.
Lily took the arm of one of the Men of the Clearing, and said, “You three may go back to the children. We will manage here.”
As the People of the Clearing separated, the pirates gathered together on the beach. Although somewhat besmirched, their colorful shirts showed bright in the morning sun. Shading their eyes against its glare on the water, they viewed Captain Cecco’s boat as his rowers sped him to shore. A sense of tension prevailed among the sailors. They were curious, naturally, but also uneasy, waiting for resolution of last night’s brawl between their officers.
Lily spotted Yulunga stretching himself awake. He slapped the sand off his breeches, kicked a sleeping seaman, then, rising to his gigantic height, he looked up to see her. Even Lily was apprehensive at breaking bad tidings to him, but she didn’t hesitate. Best to tell him quickly.
She soon found that words were unnecessary. Yulunga took one look at the maroon material in Lily’s hands, and his face set in lines. “What has she done?”
Lily gave him the dress, saying, “Dark Prince, I ask you not to deal harshly with Mrs. Hanover. She is young, and her baby needs your protection.”
Yulunga tossed the gown across his shoulder. “If anyone but you made that suggestion, Lily—” Medallions jangled behind him.
“And if I suggest it?”
“Sir?” Yulunga pivoted to face Captain Cecco. “Good morning.”
Dressed in striped satin breeches, his brown boots shining, Cecco was crowned in his gypsy regalia. He gestured his respect to Lily, then excused himself, steering his first officer away from the crowd of men. Eyeing the garment on Yulunga’s shoulder, he said, “Mr. Yulunga, I see that you are aware of your mistress’ disobedience.”
“Everyone but me seems to know of it.”
“Do not be alarmed for her. She is on the ship, where I watched over her last night.”
“You caught her?”
“She stowed away in my skiff, no doubt to steal time with poor Pierre-Jean.”
“I will punish her soundly. But, Sir,” Yulunga’s wide smile opened up, “you are looking contented this morning. My congratulations on winning your wife back.”
Instantly, Cecco seethed. “You mock your captain?”
“No, Sir.” Yulunga stepped back. “I do not mock you. Are you not reunited with the lady?”
“I am not. Why should you believe such a story?” Cecco grimaced at his own choice of words.
“Captain, we all thought—”
“The only woman in my quarters last night was yours.”
“I see, Sir. I apologize. I was misinformed.” Yulunga’s mind worked quickly, seeking, first, a means to smooth the offense he’d caused his old friend. “I hope Mrs. Hanover served as good company for you.”
“Not in the way that you offered her to me. But her behavior made me mindful of my duty. Mr. Yulunga,” Cecco looked candidly into Yulunga’s black eyes. “You and I have been mates for many years. I do not presume to change your customs, but, as your captain, and as Mrs. Hanover’s, I advise you to be generous with her.”
“She disobeyed my command. We don’t yet know what disruption she has caused.”
“I was told of Flambard’s death. It is most unfortunate.”
The degree of disruption that Mrs. Hanover had caused was fast becoming clear to Yulunga. “Captain, as we’ve learned, when bad luck strikes, Mrs. Hanover is usually at the heart of it. The company had troubles last night— more, even, than you are aware.”
“Whatever has occurred, I tell you now. Mrs. Hanover has been served her full punishment.”
Yulunga squinted, trying to read his captain’s meaning.
“Here is my order: feed her need, rather than starving her. Indulge her appetites. Trust me, my friend.” Cecco smiled and his white teeth flashed, a sight that Yulunga had not beheld for weeks. “As you have heard me boast often times, I am naturally understanding of females.”
“Cecco. What has come over you?”
“What else? ‘The love of a good woman.’ ” He clapped Yulunga’s back. “Enjoy your mistress. In doing so, you will keep her from mischief among the men, and you will make yourself happy, too.”
Tom joined the two officers, and knuckled his forehead to Cecco. “Captain, Mr. Yulunga. The commodore requests your presence. I’m to fet
ch Mr. Smee next.”
Cecco’s earrings swung as he looked benevolently upon Tom. “Mr. Tootles, you look worn.”
Rueful, the young bo’sun’s mate grinned. “Aye, Sir. Mayhap I’ll take watch aboard ship, next time there’s a party.” Tom’s eyes opened wide as he realized the significance of the dress draped over Yulunga’s shoulder. “Oh, no.” His head snapped toward the boats, and, in his mind’s eye, he saw Mrs. Hanover stealing amongst them under the moon, a little stowaway. He felt for the scar at his temple— the old reward for his kindness to her. “So that’s what we saw…”
Collecting his wits, Tom straightened up and tucked his shirt in his straining trousers. Inwardly, he prepared for a squall. Tom had learned the hard way not to trust Mrs. Hanover. He pitied his brother, who’d had charge of her. No doubt Lightly acquired the same knowledge, today.
“Well, Sir,” he cautioned Cecco, “you’d better brace yourself. She’s bollixed us again.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“I warn you, Pierre-Jean. You must resist little Mrs. Hanover.” Dressed once more in his red and blue uniform, Monsieur Guillaume pocketed the keys to the brig. “This ship has no need for champions, only sailors.” He handed Pierre-Jean a broom. “Now you will sweep out the straw, and you may go.”
“Oui, Monsieur.” Pierre-Jean saluted as his officer left him, then he hurried to finish his job. He’d had enough of this dark lower deck and its fusty odors. Its atmosphere pervaded even his sleep, for, last night, he dreamt he was locked in a dungeon. As if of like mind, his confidant, the calico cat, waited for him halfway up the narrow steps, licking her paws. The chaff swirled upward, and she sneezed. When Pierre-Jean finished, he fingered his long blond braid, picking out stray wisps of straw. He chuckled to imagine the gold of his hair had been spun from it, as in a fairy tale.
