My Seaswept Heart Page 9

  Stymie appeared equally at ease.

  No hint of a mutiny.

  “Ye think ye could ’ave been wrong?”

  “No. I know what I heard?”

  Still she wondered as the sky darkened on another day at sea. A day with no sign of d’Porteau, a stomach that never really felt calm, and watching the captain and his adversary do nothing. Wondered not if she heard correctly, but what she was thinking when she stowed aboard in the first place. Why she even asked Captain MacQuaid for his assistance.

  Anne lay on the deck watching the stars appear, waiting for Joe to return. He’d gone below to use the head, still apparently not suspicious that Anne never went at the same time. At least that much of pretending to be a boy wasn’t difficult. Actually none of it had been too bad; she probably wouldn’t even worry about fooling Jamie MacQuaid if he hadn’t known her as a woman.

  Desired her as a woman.

  Anne sat up, disgusted with herself for thinking of that. So he’d kissed her. Knowing him, he probably went after anything in petticoats. She tried to suppress a giggle as she folded her hands beneath her head. What would the captain think when he discovered she’d been on board all along? She’d tell him after this was all over. When they captured d’Porteau and found Arthur, then she’d yank off her cap and wipe the dirt off her face. A smile curved her lips. She couldn’t wait to see his expression.

  Anne realized she fell asleep thinking about the captain when she awoke, her body humming. “Oh my heavens.” She sat up, wiping trembling hands across her brow. She’d been dreaming, but it seemed so real. The captain was lying beside her doing things to her with his hands and mouth and she hadn’t been able to resist... hadn’t wanted to resist.

  Anne tried to push those thoughts from her mind. She found the pirate captain repulsive. She did. Anne leaned back against the rope... and realized Joe wasn’t there. Unless he came and went while she slept, he’d been at the head way too long.

  Anne pushed to her feet, stretching and taking a look around. All seemed calm enough. The Lost Cause lolled about on a peaceful sea, what wind there was, filling her sails and taking her skimming into the night.

  There seemed to be even fewer pirates on watch tonight. Deciding if she could fool the pirate in the light she could certainly do as much to the blackamoor in the dark, Anne climbed the ladder to the quarterdeck where he stood at the wheel. He didn’t seem to recognize her, but he hadn’t seen Joe either.

  Nor had any of the other men on watch. Gathering her nerve, and deciding when she found him, she’d tell him what she thought of the scare he gave her, Anne climbed through the hatch.

  The few lanterns swaying overhead on the berth deck gave off little light. But enough for Anne to know that Joe wasn’t among the men lucky enough to have space for a hammock on the crowded boat.

  From there she went down the port aft gangway. She knew better than to try the captain’s door. And wandering beyond only led her to the dark, dank hole where she’d heard Stymie and his friends. She didn’t want to go in there again but something drew her. Something she couldn’t explain.

  She could hear the rats scurrying about, and the bilge water dripping. Sweat broke out across her upper lip as she moved further along the cable tiers. When she stopped and looked around, unable to see anything in the darkness, Anne called herself a fool for coming in here. Nothing was to be gained by roaming around in the bowels of the ship. Joe was probably on deck asleep by now and she was—

  The sound was little more than a whimper, at first too near the call of vermin for her to notice. But it kept up, a low keening that tore at her heart.

  “Joe?” Her first call was tentative. “Joe, is that you?”

  Anne climbed onto a grated shelf, moving toward the whimper. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out shapes, but it didn’t keep her from banging her knee into a timber.

  “Joe. Answer me.” The sound was louder now and she pulled herself onto another coil of rope in time to hear him call out in pain.

  “Oh dear Lord, Joe!”

  Chapter Six

  “He’s a spawn of the devil.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes heavenward, then lifted his hand, palm out when Deacon leveled his stare toward him. “I’m not disputing your words, Deacon. Really I’m not.” Pushing his chair. back on two legs, Jamie rested his own booted feet, crossed, on his desk, knocking a log book onto the deck in the process. He merely shrugged. “Unfortunately he appears to be our devil for the moment.”

  “Does that mean you will do nothing about this plot?” This from Keena who sat on the bunk in Jamie’s cabin.

  Stretching back, Jamie grimaced. “Are we not giving Stymie too much credit? A plot seems a wee bit more than he can handle.”

  “The boy heard him. You said so yourself,”

  “’Tis true, I did,” Jamie allowed. “But now that I think on it, Joe didn’t seem to have some of his facts straight. He couldn’t tell me where he was, or where Stymie was for that matter.”

  “Didn’t you question the boy?”

  “Of course I did... some. Hell, he woke me up, for God’s sake. Sorry, Deacon,” Jamie added when he saw his quartermaster’s expression. Cursing was one thing, in Deacon’s mind. Taking the Lord’s name in vain was something else entirely.

  “Perhaps we should talk to him again.”

  “Talk to him all ye wish.” Shifting his weight, Jamie sent the two front chair legs banging to the floor. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’d be the first to admit that Stymie wants to be captain. Hell, he’d kill me for the privilege and be glad of it. But hatching a plot isn’t for the likes of him.”

  “It would take a deposed prince to do that, eh, Cap’n?”

  Jamie let the barb pass. “It would take someone a wee bit smarter than Stymie.”

  “Perhaps.” Keena folded his fingers. “But I do not believe you give that man enough credit.”

  Jamie looked from the blackamoor to Deacon. “Would ye mind standing still? Your constant pacing is making me uneasy.” When the black-garbed man stopped in mid-stride to face him, Jamie’s expression was contrite. “If you both think there be something to this...” He shrugged. “Perhaps I should speak with the lad again. Though if Stymie wants the Lost Cause so dearly, I do not know why he doesn’t just challenge me for it.”

  “And risk fighting you? Besides, he knows better than to put anything to a vote. No matter how much the crew grumbles about chasin’ d’Porteau all over the Caribbean, they won’t kick you out.”

  “Grumbles?” Jamie leaned his elbows on the cluttered desk. “Hell, they should be singing me praises. Diamonds and rubies are worth more than we can take from a half-dozen worm-infested merchantmen.” Glancing up Jamie caught the look that passed between Keena and Deacon. His eyes narrowed. “What in the hell is goin’ on here? Tell me what ye be thinking.”

  Deacon went and flopped down on the window seat, his arms crossed, his expression blank, leaving it for Keena to receive Jamie’s stare. He shrugged his powerful, dark shoulders. “We wonder how much the woman had to do with your decision to pursue d’Porteau.”

  “The woman?” Jamie knew exactly what woman they meant.

  “In the Shark’s Tooth. She was a comely wench.”

  “And God knows you’re susceptible to the breed.” This from Deacon, who turned back to contemplate the inky sea after delivering the line.

  Jamie twisted back in his chair. “Let me be sure I’m hearing this right. Ye think I’m chasing down the Frenchman because I’m lusting after some lass?”

  “Now, Cap’n, we didn’t say—”

  “Aye, ye did. You think I’d risk the Lost Cause on a roll in the hay.”

  “There is no need to—”

  Jamie never discovered what Keena was planning to say for at that moment someone pounded on the door. Before he could ask who was there, the portal burst open. The lad, Andy, rushed in, filthy as ever, his face a mask of panic.

  “What in the h
ell—”

  “He’s hurt!” Anne tried to catch her breath. “Hurt badly, I fear.” Without thinking she grabbed the captain’s arm. “Come on.” Her yank didn’t budge him, but he did stand, though he didn’t seem inclined to follow.

  “Who’s hurt? Lad, you’ll have to be more—”

  “Joe.” Anne swallowed and spoke as calmly as she could. But she had to leave him to get help and she hated for him to be alone. “He’s been beat up down in the cable tier.” Before she could finish the words the captain was out the door, his two officers on his heels. Anne followed as quickly as she could, running into Keena’s back when he paused to grab a lantern of its hook.

  “Over here. Bring the light.”

  Anne pushed around the blackamoor and Deacon and climbed to where the captain crouched beside Joe. In the wavering puddle of light she saw Jamie glance up. Their eyes met, hers questioning, his unreadable. Then he scooped up Joe and sloshed through the water toward the entrance.

  Anne did her best to keep up, running along behind as the captain retraced his steps to his cabin. Stepping aside he allowed Anne to open the door and then waited while she swept clothes from his bunk. Then he lowered Joe to the mattress.

  “Fetch Big Will.” He tossed the words over his shoulder before brushing the boy’s hair off his face. Both eyes were shut, one swollen and discolored. And there were cuts on his cheeks and around his mouth. He wasn’t making any noise now.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Anne knelt beside the bunk, clutching Joe’s hand. She could see the rhythmic motion of his chest, but wished he’d open his eyes.

  “Doesn’t look too bad.” Jamie touched the kneeling boy’s shoulder. Andy obviously cared very much about his friend. “Be a good lad, and bring some water. Go on with you now.”

  Anne hesitated only a moment, then pushed to her feet. The captain had a tin pitcher full of what appeared to be fresh water. Anne stuck her finger in and tasted it to be sure. Finding a clean towel was more difficult. She finally had to settle for one that wasn’t filthy.

  By the time she returned to the bunk the captain was sitting back on his heels staring at Joe. One look at the captain’s face and she dropped onto the floor beside the bunk. “What is it?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Just these bruises. Can’t imagine why anyone would do this. Here now, hand me the pitcher.”

  The wet linen pressed to his forehead woke Joe. He moaned and opened one eye, grimacing with pain when the captain touched the towel to his cut.

  “Who did this to ye, lad?”

  The question made Joe shut his eye. With a whimper he turned his head.

  “Tell the captain, Joe. Who hurt you?”

  “He’ll kill me if I do,” came the tearful response. “He done said he would.”

  “No one is going to hurt you, lad. I’ll see to that.” The words sounded hollow to Jamie even as he said them. He hadn’t kept someone from hurting Joe this time.

  “You have to tell Captain MacQuaid, Joe. It’s the only way to bring the culprit to justice.” Anne gently reached up and ran her finger along the boy’s jaw. “We can’t let him get away with this, Joe. It wouldn’t be right.”

  She thought he would tell her. Leaning low, Anne listened intently as his mouth opened, but before he could speak the door pounded open and Big Will burst in.

  “Who does ye have hurt in here?” he demanded in a heavily accented voice. He was a big man, taller than the captain even, with a shaved head and light blue eyes that seemed lost in his moon-round face. It was more than his size and the scar across his forehead that made him frightening. He was one of the many pirates that Anne did her best to avoid.

  But now she couldn’t avoid him. He blustered over to Joe and she suddenly knew how a mother hen felt when one of her chicks was threatened. Anne had the strongest desire to throw herself across young Joe and protect him with her life. How could someone so large and boisterous do anything but hurt poor, beaten Joe?

  “I don’t think—” she began, but was pushed aside before she could finish.

  “Come on, lad. Let Big Will have a look.”

  There didn’t seem much she could do, since Big Will was already having his look. Anne stayed as close as she could, keeping an eye on what the pirate was doing, but he appeared to be doing no harm. His large hands seemed almost gentle as they skimmed over Joe’s body.

  “Don’t worry so.”

  Anne glanced around to see the captain staring at her. She pulled the knitted hat lower.

  “Big Will studied medicine in Prussia. ’Tis lucky we are that he joined our merry group.”

  “Ha!” Big Will opened a wooden chest and fingered through the jars and vials, his sausagelike fingers finally finding what he sought. “Luck had nothin’ to do with it, as you vell know. Get the boy a drink of something.”

  It was Keena who produced a mug. Big Will added a few drops from the jar, then lifted Joe’s shoulders and commanded him to drink.

  “That should let him sleep for a vhile.” Big Will stood and stretched his arms. “The boy vill be all right.” He pulled a small pot from the case. “A bit ov this on his cuts will help them heal.”

  “Good. Now, lad, just tell us where Joe’s hammock is and we’ll—”

  “He doesn’t have a hammock,” Anne said. “He sleeps on deck, as I do.”

  Captain MacQuaid seemed bewildered by this and glanced toward Keena who shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve a full crew. Not enough space for all the men.”

  “He could stay here.” Anne lifted her chin, before remembering her disguise. “It seems like a comfortable enough bed.”

  “It is,” the captain assured her. “And ’tis mine.” He met her stare, then shrugged. “Ah, let the lad use it for a bit.”

  “Vonderful, Captain.” Big Will slapped Jamie on the back, hard enough to knock him forward. “Now, I could use a drink.”

  While Keena poured a generous serving into another mug, Anne settled on the bunk beside Joe. He looked up at her, his gray eyes already showing the effects of the sleeping potion he received.

  `Just rest now, Joe. There’s nothing to worry—” Anne gasped when he reached up and locked his fingers about her hand.

  “Andy,” he said, a hitch in his voice. “Stay clear of Stymie.”

  “Is he the one who beat you?” It was hardly a surprising revelation, but when Anne watched Joe close his eyes and nod, rage boiled within her.

  She pushed to her feet, whirling around to face the four men, three of whom now had mugs in their hands. “It was Stymie who did this.”

  “Did Joe tell ye that?”

  “Yes.” Anne paused. “Well, aren’t you going to do something about it?”

  They all stopped drinking and looked at her. But only one stepped forward, eyes narrowed and staring at her as if there was a hint of recognition. Too late Antic realized she was not acting like a humble cabin boy.

  He moved closer.

  Anne dropped her lashes.

  “Vouldn’t surprise me none if it vas Stymie. He’s a mean one.”

  “I doubt ’twould surprise any of us,” Jamie said, but he didn’t take his eyes off the boy standing before him.

  And with each step he took he came closer until Anne could feel the sweat bead on her upper lip.

  “I should be getting on deck,” she mumbled and turned toward the door. But before she could move Captain MacQuaid’s hand surrounded her upper arm.

  “Leaving us so soon... Andy, is it? Aren’t you interested in giving any more orders?”

  Anne swallowed. “Ain’t in me place to be givin’ orders, sir. Reckon that’s for the cap’n to do.”

  “Is it now?”

  “Aye.” He was pulling her closer, until she could smell the musky scent of his skin. Anne tried to keep her head down, but he hooked her chin, jerking it up with his thumb. Recognition sparked in his blue-green eyes when they met hers. She knew that he knew.

  Anne squirmed, but it did no good. His grip was ir
on tight. “Let me go, Cap’n.”

  “Aw, come on, Cap’n, the boy didn’t mean nothin’ by it. He’s just vorried ’bout his friend.”

  “Is that it, Andy? Are ye worried about your friend?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.” Anne tried to dig in her heels as he started dragging her toward the door.

  “Cap’n, where are you takin’ the boy?” Keena stepped in front of the door, but one look at his friend’s face and he stepped aside.

  Before anyone else could say a word, Anne and the captain were in the passageway. He grabbed a lantern with one hand and shoved her into a small cubbyhole of a room with the other.

  Anne lifted her arm against the glare as he held the light up to her face. She didn’t even resist when he yanked off her hat. A tangle of curls spilled down about her shoulders.

  Though he knew before, the irrefutable proof of her hair was more than he could handle. He speared five fingers through his own hair, loosening the thong of leather holding it back.

  “I can’t believe this.” He looked away, and then back, as if thinking his eyes deceived him. “What in the hell are ye doing here?” Anne opened her mouth to explain, but he kept talking. “You’re a woman, for God’s sake. On a pirate ship.” He paced a step to the door, then back. “Who else knows of this, my God, I’ll cut out the liver of any of my crew who helped ye.”

  “No one knows.”

  “What? What did ye say?” Now both hands were in his hair as he continued to stride back and forth.

  “I said no one knows. No one helped me.”

  He stopped then and looked at her, his eyes narrowed. On the floor, where he’d dropped it, the lantern sent a tapestry of shadow and light dancing over his handsome features. Anne could only stand her ground and hope for the best.

  “Ye fooled the entire crew?” He sounded skeptical, until his jaw dropped and he shook his head. “Hell, ye fooled me, sure enough. And I’ve...” What? Kissed you? Dreamed about you? Somehow Jamie didn’t think saying either was appropriate. He leaned back, finding the door with his spine and sliding down the length until he sat knees bent on the floor.