Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress (13 page)

 

On the deck of the
Silkie,
Lacy watched James swim down into the clear, blue water. She watched until she could no longer recognize him as a man, but only as a dark form far beneath the surface. And waiting, she held her breath and counted off the time that he remained under.

When his head broke water, she hadn’t reached her own limit. She exhaled softly, relieved to see that he was safe. “James,” she called. “You’re all right? Did you see anything?”

He waved, treading water and holding himself in place as he caught his breath. A thin trickle of blood ran from one nostril and his face looked redder than normal to Lacy. She extended a boat hook for him to take hold of.

“I’m ... I’m all right,” he assured her. He was breathing hard and his eyes were bloodshot. With effort, he heaved himself aboard and crouched head down.

She draped his shirt around his shoulders. “How deep did you go?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know.” He was still panting. “Didn’t see anything that could be the
Miranda.
The reef extends—”

“We should be able to see it,” she interrupted. “I’ve never seen water so clear. I can’t imagine that there could be a wreck down there without us being able to see it. We’ll look around. Distance can be deceiving.”

“Damnation, Lacy! It was here, I tell you. It can’t have just vanished.”

She let her hand rest on his damp shoulder, and the solid feel of him made her want to take him in her arms and tell him that she had been afraid for him. Her earlier anger was only an irritation in the corners of her mind. James was certain of what he’d said. No man could be such a good actor. He believed that the sunken ship and the treasure were here. And if he believed it so strongly ...

“We’ll move the boat and I’ll try again,” he said.

“The hell ye will.”

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?” he demanded. “The
Miranda’
s here, and I’m not going to let seventy feet of water keep me away from—”

“From the treasure,” she finished for him. Folding her legs, she dropped down beside him. She was wearing breeches again. It never ceased to amaze her how easy it was to sit and climb in them. No wonder boys always seemed to have more fun than girls.

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. “I’m a woman who cares for you,” she said. “I’m your partner, remember?” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his pale fingertips. “You’re winded, James. Ye shouldn’t be, ye know. I’ve seen ye fight, and I’ve seen ye struggle with the sails in a squall. Some men are divers and others are not.”

“Nonsense.” He pulled his hand back. “I can do any damned thing I set my mind to. I can swim—”

“Swimming’s nay the same as diving—not deep diving. Ye feel light-headed, don’t ye? And your belly feels like it’s been pulled through a knothole and turned inside out?”

“No,” he snapped. “I’m fine.” To prove it, he stood up and strode the length of the
Silkie.
It took a keen eye to note the lack of steadiness in his gait.

“You’re sweatin’, James,” she went on. “And your head’s poundin’ like a smith’s hammer.”

He glared at her imperiously. “You know all about it, do you? A wench who can’t swim a stroke.”

She averted her eyes. “I lied to ye.”

“You lied to me? When? When you said you were a whore, or when you said you weren’t? When you—”

She reached for the ties at the back of her waist. “When I said I couldn’t swim,” she answered. “I can swim, James. I swim like an eel, so my daddy claims. He made us all learn—so we could take cargo from the ships he wrecked. I learned to swim at an age when ye were still tied to your nurse’s apron strings. I’m a wrecker’s daughter,” she said. “I’d be of poor use to my father if I couldn’t dive, wouldn’t I?”

“A virgin harlot, and now a mermaid,” he mocked. His black eyes grew blacker still with barely controlled anger. “How do I know what to believe?”

She peeled her breeches off and stood half-naked in the blazing sun. Taking hold of her shirt, she yanked it off over her head.

“No need to go into such theatrics,” James said. “Put your clothes back on.”

“Nay,” she replied. “I’ll prove to ye that I can dive. I’ll bring ye a token from the bottom.”

He lunged for her, but she was over the side before he covered half the distance. His shout was muffled by the blue water as she plunged deep, letting the force of her dive carry her down. She should have used a weight, something heavy to do the work on her way to the bottom, but it was too late now.

She opened her eyes, rolling over to get her bearings. The
Silkie
was a black shape above her; the bottom was only an indistinct blur. The water was softer than she would have believed possible, warm and inviting.

She had always loved the ocean, but the water off Cornwall was icy cold most of the year. What month was this? December? At home, she couldn’t swim now. The cold would kill her in only a few minutes.

She knew she didn’t have much time if she was going to have enough air to reach the bottom. Seventy-three feet was deeper than she’d ever gone before ... at least she thought it was. Rolling over again, she started down, swimming overhand, kicking her feet with regular strokes.

A turtle the size of a wagon wheel swam by, its wrinkled neck stretched out. The ancient creature’s back was green with moss. Lacy would have loved to stop and play with it, but her air supply was limited and the bottom was still a dark, swaying mass.

Next, a ridge of coral reef came into view, off to her left. James had said that the reef wasn’t made of stone, but of the bodies of tiny animals. She had seen coral jewelry and pieces of the rocklike substance that sailors brought home from far-off voyages. Fingers of living coral rose out of it, yellow and green, like winter trees with branches bare of leaves. Other corals were round and greenish-brown, much like overripe heads of cabbages. The reef was a feeding ground for fish and crabs. They darted in and out of the fantastic growth.

Lacy exhaled a tiny bit of air, and bubbles sprayed on either side of her body. This underwater world was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and yet it was strangely familiar. Then she remembered her vision and smiled.

This was right. It was meant to be. She had foreseen this place, and now she was here.

The surface of the sea was far above her now. No sounds from that upper realm could reach her. It was a silent kingdom of multicolored citizens in every shape and size, from sea urchins to squid, to grotesque fish with swaying spines and bulging eyes.

Something long and snakelike came into view. Lacy blinked. Was it the giant eel she’d seen in her vision? No. She wanted to laugh at her foolishness. It was nothing more than the
Silkie’
s anchor rope. Her chest ached, and it was hard to think straight, but she could see the bottom now. Sand and vegetation. No broken hull, no shattered masts. James’s ship, wherever it was, wasn’t here.

She was swimming slower now, and she could feel the weight of the ocean pushing down on her. She exhaled again, forcing herself to kick harder. An indigo-blue fish fluttered past, then another and another. The sea floor was ... was ... Abruptly, her fingertips dug into the sand.

The temptation to stay tugged at her, but a stronger instinct made her snatch a starfish from the sand, turn and pull herself up the rope. She blinked as silvery images clouded her vision. Her chest hurt, and her heart seemed to be beating too slowly.

I’ve come down, she reminded herself. I made it this far. Going down was the hard part. Going back up is easy.

But she was out of practice. She realized it now. She should have started with shallower dives and worked her way up to this one.

Her head was aching; her arms felt as though they would fall off from exhaustion.

A little farther. Just a little farther.

She let out the last of her breath. The surface danced above her, golden sunshine on the surface of a glass sea. She could see the hull of the
Silkie
clearly. Panic clung to her back like a banshee and tried to turn her muscles to water.

A dark form swam toward her. Was it a shark? No, not a shark, but a man.

James!

James caught her around the waist and swam the last ten feet with her. She burst into the bright, hot afternoon and sucked in lungfuls of fresh air. James bobbed up beside her, his eyes full of concern.

“Damn you, woman, don’t you ever do anything like that again!” he warned.

She grinned and held up the starfish.

T
he following day at mid-morning, Lacy spied the hull of the
Miranda
on the ocean floor. The ship was closer to the island than James had remembered. When he lowered the weighted line, they found that the wreck rested at about sixty feet. Immediately, they anchored the
Silkie
and Lacy dove down to explore the sunken vessel.

Storms had strewn wreckage over a large area, but the bulk of the hull rested on a limestone and coral ridge. Lacy was able to make out several cannon clearly, as well as a shattered mast, and the
Miranda’
s seahorse figurehead draped with swaying green growth. One of her first finds had been an iron cannonball; she’d deposited that in the bucket so that James could pull it up on the rope.

After that, her descents came faster and easier. She would hold on to the weighted bucket and let the heavy cannonball pull her down. It saved precious breath and energy, taking her to the bottom much faster than swimming would do.

Once James attempted to swim down with her, but his obvious discomfort when they climbed back on deck proved that his body wasn’t adapted for deep diving.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lacy said. “I’ve been diving for years. Some can dive deep and some can’t. It’s plain to me that the pressure’s too great for you.”

He’d glowered and busied himself coiling an already coiled rope. She knew from the tight set of his shoulders that he was angered by his weakness, but truth was truth. If she went down after the treasure, she had a reasonable expectation of coming up. If Jamie did it ... She pursed her lips. There was no sense in fretting over such things. Besides, as long as he needed her, she reasoned, there was less chance of his cutting her out of her rightful share of the Spanish gold. If there
was
any gold—which she still had doubts about.

She dived four times that day, never attempting to penetrate the hull of the
Miranda.
Instead, she took her bearings, scouting out the danger spots and deciding what she was going to do before she did it.

Thinking under water was dangerous, especially when you went deep. After the first minute, a diver’s mind began to play tricks. Lacy always felt slightly tipsy during a deep dive, as though she’d swallowed several mugs of strong rum in rapid succession. On the bottom, risky maneuvers didn’t seem so foolhardy. The ocean floor was beautiful, an alien world that beckoned with open arms, and it was easy to believe you were invincible.

This sea world was a dozen times more inviting than any Lacy had ever experienced in Cornwall. Vivid splashes of color and faint whispers of sound that she couldn’t identify assaulted her senses.

Multitudes of strange fish swam through giant fingers of coral; brilliant yellow and blue creatures flowed in drifting patterns among the pale green, feathery plumes of vegetation. Whether they were fish or snakes or worms, she couldn’t tell; plants and insects and animals seemed to lose their differences, blending into a living, breathing landscape. Starfish and sea urchins lay scattered on the sandy plains amid beautiful shells and jagged outcroppings of stone.

Again and again, Lacy was struck by the sensual feel of the warm salt sea, soft against her bare skin. Nothing had ever felt like this, and no water had ever been so clear. The light was different from that on the surface. Here in the watery depths, sunshine cascaded in shimmering streams, casting liquid shadows amid the coral forests and yawning chasms.

On her last dive of the day, Lacy discovered a crevice in the limestone ridge. Her first instinct was to swim into it and explore what seemed to be the mouth of a cave, but caution got the better of her. Her remaining lungful of air would last another minute at best. Reluctantly, she decided to venture into the gap another time. Exhaling slowly, she swam upward until her head broke the surface of the sea a few feet from the
Silkie.

“That’s enough for today,” James ordered. “I saw something large on the far side of the boat. It might be a shark. There are man-eaters in these waters.”

Tired from the exertion, Lacy kicked her feet slowly, holding herself in place as she sucked in precious air. James leaned over the side and held out his hand to her. She turned toward him, took a single stroke, and then without the slightest warning, her world went black.

 

Startled, Kutii stopped. He straightened his back and breathed deep as tremors of sensation rocked his body. His eyes were still swathed in folds of darkness by the blindfold, but inside his head fiery colors swirled and danced.

“Kutii.”

Someone or something called his name. He heard it clearly—not with his ears but through an older sense.

“Kutii. I’m coming.”

He smiled and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “So,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “You have not forgotten.”

The angry shouts of the overseer were no more to him than the buzzing of a troublesome fly. And the whip, when it sliced through the raw flesh on Kutii’s back, had no power to cause him true pain. His legs began to move again. The muscles of his shoulders tensed as he threw his might against the wheel.

“You have not forgotten,” the Indian repeated, as his bare feet found the worn path in the sugar house floor. And his heart soared far above the smoke of the boiling cane kettles, higher even than the mountaintop, higher even than the clouds.

The promised one was coming. She would free him from his torment. She would pull the blinders from his eyes, and he would see her in all her golden glory. Kutii chuckled as the overseer brought the whip down upon his back again and again.

“Crazy Indian!” the German muttered.

But Kutii’s thin lips curved upward in a slow, deliberate triumphant smile.

 

Water closed over Lacy’s head. The blackness became a velvet mantle, settling her as gently as a mother’s touch. She ceased struggling.

“Lacy!” James caught her in his arms and swam with her to the boat. “Lacy!” he shouted urgently in her ear.

She blinked twice and took hold of the gunnel, heaving herself up out of the water. For a moment, the azure-blue of the sea and the weathered brown of the
Silkie’
s deck seemed more vivid than ever before; the scents of salt and canvas and tarred rope seemed stronger. The sun seemed too bright—too hot—for her to bear.

“What the hell—” James demanded. His voice was loud in her ears as he thrust her up onto the deck and scrambled after her. The echo of his words resounded in her head. “Lacy? Are you all right?”

She blinked again as her familiar world shifted, then settled into place. Had she had another spell? “All right?” she stammered. “Of course I’m all right,” she lied. “What ails ye?” It was hard to concentrate on James when her mind was filled with the red man and his strange message. She took another deep gulp of air and tried to regain her shattered composure.

“I thought you fainted on me.”

“Nonsense. I’m fine.”

“You started to sink.”

“I didn’t.” She shook her hair and droplets of water spattered across the deck. “You’re worse than an old woman.”

“If you’re lying to me ...”

She averted her eyes and forced a grin. It had been a
seeing.
The memory was clear in her head now. But she’d never slipped into a trance in the water before. If James knew, he might refuse to let her dive again. “It’s beautiful down there,” she babbled. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen. Fish and crabs and—”

“I’ve swum on reefs before, shallower than this but much the same. Are you sure you—”

“Ah, Jamie. Ye do care about me,” she teased.

He grabbed the frayed edge of her shift and pulled it over her head so that she was naked in the hot sunshine.

Startled, Lacy stared up into his eyes. For a heartbeat she could see past the protective wall that guarded James’s innermost thoughts. The raw emotion revealed there made her breath catch in her throat. The force of his gaze was frightening in its intensity, and she trembled.

“Jamie?” she whispered.

His fingertips seared her bare shoulders as he yanked her against him. “God, woman! Don’t ever do that to me again!” The harshness of his words was overridden by the faint tremor of his body. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with a demanding kiss. “I was crazy to let you go down there.” He wound his fingers in her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her again—hard.

This time, she kissed him back, opening her mouth to receive the thrust of his tongue, welcoming the surge of excitment. The taste of him was sweet ... the sensation of fullness made her bold.

“I want ye ...” she whispered. Trembling, she ran her hands up under his wet shirt ... caressing ... tracing the outlines of his hard muscles. “Oh, Jamie, ye drive me mad with wantin’ ye.” Her fingertips found his male nipple and she pinched it between her fingertips until it swelled to a hard nub.

He molded her body to his with almost brutal strength, pressing his throbbing heat against her naked thigh. “Lacy,” he groaned.

Her breath was coming in quick, jagged gasps. Her skin felt as though it were on fire. Her fevered blood sang with the need to be part of him, even as his mouth claimed her again and again with hot, wet kisses.

Never before had they come together with such urgent need. Shamelessly, her seeking fingers felt the source of his desire pressed against her naked thigh, and she stroked the swollen length until he shuddered with passion.

“Jamie,” she murmured. “Ah, Jamie.”

He kissed her once more, and she clasped him against her so tightly that she could feel the thud of his heart. Her hands dug into his broad back as her body molded against his. His teeth nipped her throat; tiny, teasing caresses that made her cry out with pleasure.

Together, they sank onto the deck, possessed by a need so great that they could not wait to be part of each other. Quickly, urgently, she helped him off with his shirt and breeches.

“Lacy ... Lacy,” he whispered.

His hands moved over her, driving her wild. Her breasts ached to be touched and kissed ... her nipples swelled with desire. “Now, take me now!” she urged. “I want you inside me.”

He laughed, and the sound of his voice lashed her lust higher. His probing fingers found the source of her hunger. She moaned and arched against him, writhing beneath his touch.

“You know what you do to me?” he murmured. “You’re mine and I’ll never let you go. Never.”

His heated caresses moved down her body in a path of molten flame until she was sobbing with yearning. She could feel his tongue ... his lips ... against her tingling skin. He teased her nipples with slow, exquisite torture until she groaned and sank her teeth into his bare shoulder. Still, he did not give her what they both wanted so badly. Instead, his mouth moved lower and he pressed his face into her soft, damp curls.

“I want to taste your sweetness,” he whispered. “All of it.”

Realization of what he meant sank through to her consciousness. “No . . .” she started to protest. “I . . .”

“Sweet Lacy,” he said. “Sweet, sweet Lacy.”

She gasped with wonder at his gentle invasion, then her eyes widened as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. “Please ... I can’t,” she protested. “I need ...” She pulled him down to her, wanting to give him what she had been given ... wanting to share the bright, hot joy.

To her surprise, the rolling tide of rapture continued without receding. There was no break in her own gratification. The instant James filled her with his huge, swollen member, her desire came surging back, and she found herself not just giving, but receiving.

Crying aloud with happiness, she met him thrust for thrust. Laughing, she stared into his eyes as he found his own shuddering release, and she held him tight in her arms as they drifted on a warm sea of shared contentment.

It was James who spoke first. Lacy wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours later.

“Woman. Woman. You are ...” He sighed and stroked her tangled hair. “There’s none like you in all the world, Lacy Bennett.”

“Ummm.” She closed her eyes tightly and snuggled against his chest.

“I’ll never let you go, you know that, don’t you? Not ever. You belong to me.”

“Ummm.” A tiny breath of cold rippled down her spine, but she ignored it.