My Seaswept Heart Page 3

“Nay, nothing.”

  Disappointment and fear coursed through her body, though Anne tried not to show either. But when he spoke she couldn’t help her nervous jump.

  “I must admit to a bit of surprise.”

  “How so?” Anne stood awkwardly, wondering what to do next. Unlike on the street outside of the tavern the captain didn’t seem in any hurry.

  “I expected...” His brow arched. “An impassioned plea for my help.”

  “Is that what you wish? For if it is I can...” Anne’s voice trailed off as he stepped forward.

  “ ’Tis not my desire.”

  Anne’s heart pounded. “I thought not. You already made your position very clear.”

  “Aye.” Jamie reached out to hook her chin with the tip of his finger, lifting her face toward his. “’Tis still the question of why you asked me here.”

  Without looking down Anne reached for the laces of her bodice. He said nothing as she tugged on the bow with trembling fingers. His hand covered hers as the top of her corset yawned open. The heat of his palm warmed the curve of her flesh.

  “Why are you doing this?” His words were as breathless as she felt.

  Anne swallowed. “You find my desires surprising? What of that woman... those women in the tavern?”

  “Ye are not like them.”

  “You are so certain?” Anne slowly pulled her hand from beneath his. Now there was nothing between him and the swell of her breast. She prepared herself to bear the repulsion, surprised when it didn’t come. With her fingers she reached out, touching the hot skin at the base of his neck. “Perhaps all women are alike when it comes to you, Jamie MacQuaid.”

  She expected the kiss, but not the fire that shot through her body. It left her unaware that he’d lifted one breast from her corset until the exquisite torture of his thumb became near unbearable.

  “Please.” Anne pushed against him with the flat of her palm. His head lifted but his hand continued to circle the puckered tip of her nipple until she pointed toward the glass decanter. “I’m nearly parched. Some wine... please.”

  She sank onto the bed when he reached for the bottle. There were two glasses beside the wine and she nearly wept with relief when he splashed amber liquid in both of them. The first he handed to her the second he drank as greedily as she wished to drink hers.

  But she didn’t.

  Before Anne could worry that he would notice he was on the bed beside her. She shoved the still full glass onto the table as he pushed her back onto pillow. His mouth covered her as easily as his body. The kiss was deep and searing and before it was over, Anne wasn’t certain which of them had been drugged.

  Chapter Two

  Why was he still awake? Not only awake but seemingly as fit... and amorous as before he gulped down the laudanum-laced wine. If the sedative had any effect upon him, Anne had yet to see it.

  “Please, Captain...” Anne managed to turn her mouth away from his passionate kiss.

  “Please what? And don’t ye think you can call me Jamie?” He wet the delicate underside of her jaw with the tip of his tongue. She tasted... smelled sweeter than any woman he could remember.

  Please what indeed. Anne wriggled under his weight, trying to think of something, anything to say. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her. And fighting him, fighting the temptation to stop fighting, was becoming more difficult with each passing moment.

  She jerked when his hand clasped her bared breast. And that’s when she felt it. It was large, long, and very hard and it pressed into her hip. “Captain... I mean Jamie.” Anne barely recognized the breathless quality of her voice.

  “Aye?” He lifted his head and looked down at her with eyes now grown dark with passion. His thumb never paused from its erotic arousal of her nipple.

  “Your pistols,” Anne managed to get out before she bit her bottom lip to suppress a moan. She couldn’t believe the way he made her feel. So different from the revulsion d’Porteau stirred.

  Thoughts of that hated of all demons cooled Anne’s blood. She pushed against the captain’s chest. “Your pistols are hurting me. Please remove them.”

  It took a moment for her request to pierce the fog settling over his mind. Jamie shook his head at his own stupidity and rolled to the side, planting his feet as firmly as he could on the rocking deck.

  No, floor. He wasn’t on the Lost Cause being tossed about by the savage winds of a hurricane, though, by God, it felt as if he were. Jamie lurched to his feet, yanking one, then the other of his guns from the leather strap crossing his chest. He laid them both as carefully as he could on the bedside table, annoyed with himself when he bumped the wine decanter. If not for the woman... Jamie searched his brain... ah yes, Anne Cornwall. If not for beautiful Annie’s quick movements the bottle would have shattered to the floor.

  “Perhaps you should have some more wine.”

  Jamie watched as she poured the amber liquid into his glass. The motion of shaking his head now caused a wave of dizziness to swamp over him. “Think... I’ve drunk... too much already.” He knew exactly what he wanted to taste and it wasn’t in the glass.

  His hand reached out to touch the extended tip of her breast, and closed instead over something smooth and cold. The glass. Had he asked for it? Whatever, it seemed to stand between him and the sweet oblivion of Anne. With one jerky motion, Jamie gulped down the drink.

  The crystal shattered onto the floor, but Jamie didn’t notice. He propelled himself forward, falling onto the bed on top of Anne. His mouth settled over hers, open and hungry. His hands fumbled with her skirts and petticoat, surging higher when he felt the soft warmth of her leg.

  As his mind slowed and reality faded, his desires burned hotter. He couldn’t get enough of her. He couldn’t get her quickly enough. She wriggled and writhed beneath him, inciting his already explosive passions.

  He yanked at her skirts, pushing and prodding to untangle them from her twisting legs. When his palm covered her mound she bucked and he wasted no time slipping his finger through the tangle of curls. She was hot and moist. Inviting beyond reason.

  Jamie could bear it no more. He didn’t know which would explode first: his head or the swollen flesh that throbbed against his breeches. His fingers left the scalding heat of her body to fumble with the front flap of his breeches, but returned when he couldn’t master the buttons. Wild with a torture like he’d never known before Jamie jerked, dragging his mouth down her body.

  Her thigh beckoned and he tasted her sweet flesh, devouring it as he skimmed higher toward his goal. His hands spread her legs. His tongue blazed toward her waiting womanhood. He burned. He desired. He...

  “Stop. Oh please stop.” Anne grew hoarse from her strangled pleas. She shoved at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his sweat-slick skin, and only then noticed that he had stopped.

  Completely.

  His burnished gold head lay cradled between her thighs and she could feel the flutter of his breath fanning her tight curls. But he no longer teased with his mouth or moved at all for that matter.

  “Jamie. Captain MacQuaid?” Anne’s voice was ragged as she lifted her head. She could see nothing over the bunched-up fabric of her gown.

  She listened but there was no answer, just the sound of soft snores.

  Even when she called his name louder he didn’t respond.

  Letting out her pent-up breath Anne flopped back onto the pillow. He had succumbed just in time. Actually, she admitted to herself, he hadn’t passed out in time at all. She’d been touched and kissed and... Anne pushed all that from her mind as she rolled to the side, pulling her leg from beneath his head. This was not the time to think of what he did. What she’d let him do. Or the way he’d made her feel.

  Her hair was down around her shoulders, her skirts were a rumpled mess and her bodice... Anne shook her head as she pulled the linen over her exposed breast and retied the laces. She was finger combing her hair when she heard the first light rapping on the windowpane. Before she could pull
back the curtain Israel was pounding.

  “Cease what you’re about, Israel.” Anne shoved the casement open. “It is not impossible to wake Mistress Perkins.” The landlady was nearly deaf, but there was no need to take any more chances than they must.

  “Sorry, Mistress Anne, but I’s a wondering what was takin’ ye so long.”

  A good question to be sure, but one Anne didn’t wish to answer. “Come around to the door. He’s asleep, but I don’t know for how long.”

  “Aye and the laudanum will keep him dreamin’ sweet dreams till mornin’.”

  “Yes, well, let us hope so.” Considering the difficulty with which he fell asleep, Anne wasn’t convinced. She stared down at the captain, sprawled on her bed and wondered that he could could seem so benign. Even with his hair disheveled and a day’s growth of whiskers darkening his square jaw he appeared almost innocent. Like the fallen angel Israel described.

  But she was allowing foolishness to color her thinking. James MacQuaid was a pirate. He might be useful to her... to Libertia if he wished, but he was a pirate nonetheless.

  After scooping the wooden hairpins off the pillow she thrust them through her skirt pocket and turned to open the door.

  Israel’s eyes were knowing when they first met hers. “’Tis sure, I am, whatever he tried to do ye took care of it since ye didn’t call for me help. Am I right, girl?”

  Anne lifted her chin. “Yes. Now how do you propose we get him to the pier?”

  There seemed only one way. Pushing and pulling and shoving and grunting the two of them managed to take the pirate captain out of the house and load him onto a wheelbarrow. From there the task was easier until they reached the dock. Then it was more hard work.

  “He must weigh near fifteen stone.”

  “At least.” Anne fell back onto the small sloop’s seat and looked down at the captain sprawled on the bottom. She didn’t think she’d ever been so tired. Out on the bay morning was painting the horizon a pale pewter and they still had a three-hour sail to home. Pushing to her feet Anne helped Israel maneuver the sloop out of the harbor, picking up a quickening breeze that snapped the sail smartly.

  “Have ye thought about what you’re gonna tell yer uncle?” Israel leaned against the tiller, his long, grizzled hair streaming behind him like a banner.

  “The truth.” Anne squinted up at the elderly man. “He won’t accept anything less.”

  He seemed to ponder that a moment, finally showing his agreement with a curt nod. “I reckon that’s fair. But there be truths... and then there be truths.”

  Anne shook her head and chuckled. Israel had a way of thinking that she found amusing, and often agreed with. He wasn’t one of her uncle’s settlement, but had lived on the island for many years prior to their coming. As a matter of fact no one knew exactly who or what Israel was. But Anne had her theories. Israel certainly knew a lot about sailing. And pirates.

  Israel was always helping the small group of settlers that lived on Libertia. He seemed especially fond of Anne—said he liked her spirit, but even for her he would not reveal his past.

  Anne studied her friend for a minute. “I think we have to convince Uncle Richard that d’Porteau’s threat is real. And that we need to do something about it.”

  “He still ain’t likely to look kindly on this here little undertakin’ of ours.” Israel’s dark eyes rolled toward the man who lay snoring on the bottom of the boat.

  He was right, of course, but... “What else was I to do? I couldn’t convince Captain MacQuaid to come to our assistance. Uncle Richard is much more persuasive than I.”

  “If’n he be in the mood.”

  Anne sighed. Though her arguments seemed sound when voiced to Israel, she knew that made little difference. Making her uncle understand reality was becoming increasingly difficult. And over the years it had become Anne’s responsibility. As time had passed and his dream of a utopian society unfolded, he became more and more idealistic and less realistic.

  And then there were the memory lapses, which seemed to be worse since d’Porteau’s raid on Libertia.

  “He has to understand what will happen,” she said as much to assure herself as Israel. But his response wasn’t what she wished.

  “Which he is ye talkin’ ’bout?” the old man asked, motioning with his head toward the pirate who was starting to stir, showing every sign of waking up.

  “I thought you said he would sleep till we reached the island.” Anne slid off her seat to get a better look.

  “Said I thought he would.” Israel squinted into the rising sun. “Should be there soon.”

  “But it won’t be soon enough, I fear.” Anne sidled up beside the captain, staring into his face. She was in that position, her breath held, when his eyes slitted open.

  His initial expression registered bewilderment, then a smile tilted one side of his mouth. “Ah, Annie,” he mumbled before licking his lips. His lids drifted shut, fanning his cheeks with the longest lashes Anne had ever seen on a man. They were a dark auburn with gold tips and Anne thought herself the silliest of creatures to notice such a thing. She was turning to rise, congratulating herself that he’d gone back to sleep when his eyes popped open again.

  This time he pushed up on one elbow, grabbing his head with the other hand. “Where in the hell am I?” His gaze swept over the small sloop before locking with Anne’s.

  She met his stare but words escaped her until she felt the bite of his fingers about her arm. That’s when she realized she should never have moved so close to him. The pressure increased till Anne sucked in her breath.

  “I asked you a question, Mistress Cornwall.”

  “And she’ll be answering it the moment ye let her loose... Captain.”

  Jamie twisted around toward the source of the voice, Anne Cornwall in tow. His head hurt like hell, even worse when he moved, and somehow or another he was sailing on the high seas. That much he could tell. But he hadn’t the foggiest recollection how that circumstance came about. And shocking as that was, Jamie was in for another surprise when his eyes focused on the man standing by the tiller. Not only was he aiming a pistol toward Jamie—one of his own or he was sadly mistaken—but he looked hauntingly familiar.

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Israel... is that you?”

  “One in the same, Cap’n.”

  Jamie gave a sharp laugh. “Expected you’d be picking the devil’s pocket by now.”

  “Reckon that’s what most folk thought.”

  “You know this man?” Anne’s question was directed toward Israel, but it was Jamie who answered.

  “Israel and I go back a long way. He once sailed on the Lost Cause.”

  Even though she’d long suspected Israel of having a less than exemplary past, Anne’s mouth dropped open. “You really were a pirate?”

  Neither man answered as they stared at each other.

  It was Israel who broke the silence. “Cap’n, I suggest ye be lettin’ the girl go.”

  “Annie’s all right, and will be as long as we turn this tub about and head for New Providence.”

  “Ye seem to be forgettin’, Cap’n, who’s got the pistol.” Israel moved the muzzle in a lazy arc.

  “True enough.”

  “Good ’a ye to see it me way. Now if’n you’d just be loosenin’ yer grip.”

  Looking first at Anne, then back to the grizzled old pirate, Jamie complied, not surprised when she scurried away. “What’s this about, Israel? Revenge for what happened all those years ago?”

  “Now, Cap’n, I ain’t out to kill ye, though at first when I stood there onshore watching the Lost Cause sail away leavin’ me stranded, the thought kept me goin’.”

  “Understandable.”

  “There was times, I dreamed of your cursed mug staring up at me blank-eyed while flames danced about your head.” Israel laughed and to Anne’s surprise so did the captain.

  “So if not revenge, then what?”

  “Ye talked with Mistress Cornwall. Ye sho
uld know.” Jamie searched his foggy brain for what they’d discussed. “D’Porteau?”

  “Aye.”

  “But what has he to do with you?”

  Israel settled back against the side. “The low-down bastard don’t deserve to live.” His whiskered jaw locked about his pipe with an air of finality as if to announce that nothing else need be said.

  Jamie didn’t buy that. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. But most of all he wanted to turn this sloop around and head back to New Providence. He shifted his weight toward the tiller, settling back when Israel cocked the pistol. The old blackguard wasn’t as decrepit as he seemed. At least he appeared quite capable of pulling the trigger and blowing a whole the size of a small island through Jamie.

  He decided to change tactics, wishing his head didn’t feel like it was full of good Scottish wool. Jamie turned his attention toward Anne Cornwall who was studying him, her expression suspicious. “And just what do ye hope to accomplish with this kidnapping?”

  “It isn’t a kidnapping.” Anne ignored the arch of his brow. “I simply thought it would behoove you to meet my uncle.”

  “Ah.” Jamie’s finger followed the curve of his whiskered chin. “This...” His hand spread to indicate the sloop and surrounding ocean. “This nonkidnapping is just by way of an introduction.” His voice grew deeper. “An introduction I want no part of.”

  Crossing her arms Anne met his stare. “You have no say in the matter.”

  “True enough, Annie. For the time being.” His lids lowered and Jamie leaned toward her. “But I shan’t always be at your beck and call, my lady.”

  “Sit yourself back, b’for I forget it was you who saved me life.”

  This revelation was enough to make Jamie twist toward the older man. “What foolishness are ye speakin’ there, old man? I never did a thing for you, certainly not saving your miserable life.”

  Israel didn’t seem to take offense at the captain’s denials. “I knows what I knows,” he said, then waved his hand toward the east. “There be Libertia.”

  Jamie’s gaze followed and he saw the island for the first time. it was like so many other oasis of land that spotted the sapphire-blue sea, the interior mountainous and green with vegetation, rimmed by blinding white coral sand. It wasn’t until they sailed into the protected harbor where the waters turned a clear turquoise that Jamie noticed anything to recommend this over any of a hundred other islands.