Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress (18 page)

BOOK: Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress
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The knot of anger in her chest dissolved, and she found herself hugging him. “Mother of God,” she repeated as her eyes grew teary. “I was afraid ... afraid ... you were dead.” He kissed her again, and a thrill ran to the tips of her toes. This was definitely not the embrace of a dead man! She tried to remember she was annoyed with him as a delicious warmth began to spread outward from her loins.
He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up so that he could stare into her eyes. “Is this the practice in Cornwall?” he asked lazily. “When a man comes to rescue a damsel in distress, she tries to murder him?”
Heat burned her cheeks, and she burrowed her face into his sweet-smelling waistcoat. “Damn it, Jamie, what was I to think?”
His voice grew serious. “No one hurt you, did they? You weren’t ... assaulted?”
“Raped? Hell, no. My jaw is sore from where one of those clip-nits punched me, but nothing else, no.”
“Good. I’d hate to bloody these fine clothes by running a sword through an old friend.” He wiggled off her and sat up, then began to remove the waistcoat. “We’re not prisoners, chit, we’re guests. This house belongs to my old captain—Matthew Kay. I thought he went down with the
Miranda,
but he’s alive. He—”
“Your old friend sent that scum to the dock to kill us.” She sat up and began to untie her right ankle. “Your Matthew had me trussed up and guarded by a woman wrestler.” James pulled off his stock and draped it over a chair, and she watched intently as he took off his shirt and breeches.
“I warned Matthew that I’d kill him if any harm had come to you,” James said. He bent over to remove his boots, and Lacy shivered despite the heat. “I meant it.” He glanced back at her, and his dark gaze locked with hers. “I was afraid for you.”
She untied the last scarf and sat up on the featherbed, curling her legs under her. The sheets were linen, so finely woven that they were as soft as goose down. Pillows were heaped up at the head of the bed, and thin cotton drapes helped to keep away the flies and mosquitoes. It was the most wonderful bed she’d ever seen, let alone lain in. And now, she was thinking of doing more than sleeping in it. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“’Tis a strange place to put a prisoner,” she said, running a hand down the beautifully carved bedpost. James was totally nude now, and the sight of his broad chest and muscular thighs made her insides flap like a sail in squall winds. She brushed the tangled hair away from her face. “I look all a-tatter,” she began, “while you ...”
“You look like an angel to me,” he murmured. Kneeling on the bed, he began to untie her bodice. “And I told you,” he soothed, “you’re not a prisoner. You’re Matthew’s guest.”
“You’ve had a bath.” She ran her fingers through his dark hair, untying the green silk ribbon and letting his hair fall loose around his shoulders. Her mouth was dry, and she felt all trembly inside.
“Ummm.” He kissed the hollow between her breasts. Slowly, he pushed her blouse off her shoulder and nuzzled the exposed skin. “Are you certain you don’t want me to tie you up again, Lacy?” he said huskily. “Some women favor such play above all—”
“Nay,” she replied, shivering at his caress. “For I’ll be no man’s caged bird.” He lowered his head and she gasped at the sweet sensation of his tongue against her nipple. He took the swollen nub between his lips, and she arched backward and sighed with pleasure. “I could bind ye if ye want,” she teased. “They say a man—”
“Witch.” He ran a hand under her petticoat and she giggled. “’Tis too warm for all these clothes.”
“Then ye must help me remedy the problem.” His seeking fingers brushed her damp curls, and she squirmed with delight. He kissed her mouth again, and she took his hard, thrusting tongue deep inside, reveling in the taste and smell of him.
In minutes they were closely entwined, chest against chest, and she was wearing nothing but her stockings. His full erection pressed against her naked thigh, and his hands moved over her breasts and belly with consummate skill.
Unwilling to see him suffer, Lacy was doing everything in her power to ensure that James’s pleasure was no less than her own. The low groans that escaped his throat proved to her that her efforts were not in vain. “Why did your friend send those men to capture us?” she asked him between steamy kisses.
He nibbled at her shoulder, and bubbles of excitement radiated down her arm. “Mmm,” he murmured. “You taste good.” Then he drew one of the silk scarves down over her left breast, stroking her lightly with the soft fabric. “Are you certain you don’t want me to tie you up? A wench like you needs discipline.”
A sharp retort rose to her lips, then faded unspoken when she met the heavy-lidded gaze of his teasing dark eyes. “Discipline, is it, Jamie?” she murmured. “I think not.”
She loved him, and it was easy for her to let herself forget the night of fear and be swept up in his loveplay. Her body and mind strained to be one with his. The soft featherbed beneath her, the scent of orchids wafting through a louvered window, the luxurious surroundings, combined to push all else from her consciousness.
He brushed the scarf against the mound of her belly and she trembled at his touch, wondering if her unborn child felt the same thrill. Last night, she had believed James dead, and now he was here, warm and alive, loving her. No matter what danger they were in, she’d savor this moment to its fullest.
“We are in danger, aren’t we?” she whispered, voicing her concern.
“Shhh,” he murmured. “Later.” He followed the trail of the silken scarf with his lips and tongue. His fingers delved into her moist cleft and she gasped. “Darling Lacy.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as the tide of his passion swept her on to the joy and culmination of their union. She cried aloud when he entered her, arching her hips to meet his full thrust and riding the flood of ecstasy to sweet oblivion.
She wasn’t certain how long she slept in his arms afterward, but when she awoke, the shutters in the big windows were thrown wide and the shadows were those of late afternoon. James was standing over her, smiling, wearing only his breeches. He held a glass of wine in one hand.
“Maybe you’re not in need of discipline after all,” he said, lifting the goblet in a salute. “You were a very good girl.”
She sat up and threw a pillow at him. “So where is this captain of yours?”
“Later. He’s asked us to join him for an early supper. When you’re ready, I’ll call the servants to bring you a bath and some decent clothing.” He licked the rim of the wineglass suggestively and offered it to her.
Giggling, she took a sip. “That’s good,” she exclaimed and drank again. When the glass was empty, he refilled it from a leather-covered bottle.
“It’s Spanish, and very strong,” he said. “The gift of some grandee.” He dipped his index finger in the glass and rubbed the ruby drop of liquid across her full lower lip. She smiled up at him, and he leaned over and kissed her love-swollen mouth.
“Keep doing that, and you’ll start something ye may not be able to finish,” she said.
He tossed the glass aside and lunged for her. Together they rolled over and over, laughing. When he finally caught her, they were half off the bed on the far side in a heap of pillows and tangled sheets.
“Damnable wench,” he complained as she climbed astride him.
Giggling, she began to tie his wrist to the bedpost with one of the silk scarves. “Ye are the one who needs discipline,” she declared. Sliding down onto his thighs, she parted the folds of his breeches and took hold of his partially erect shaft. “It’s plain to me that you’re lax in—”
He groaned. “Woman.” He sighed as she bent to remedy his physical problem. “Woman ...”
She touched his warm flesh with the tip of her tongue. “I’d do nothing ye do not wish,” she whispered mischievously. “Shall I stop?”
“No.”
She shivered with delight as she lowered her head to take him between her lips. “This time I shall be in the saddle,” she promised, “and I shall ride ye over hedge and hollow until ye cry quit.”
His laughter rumbled from the depths of his chest, and he seized a handful of her hair and pushed her down to begin the exquisite torture.
Purple shadows of dusk were falling across the poster bed when they finally untangled themselves, and James bent to retrieve the half-empty bottle of wine. He took a long swallow and offered it to Lacy.
She smiled lazily and shook her head. “Nay, you’ve made me light-headed enough.” Her bold lust for James’s body had faded to a warm glowing shyness. She rubbed the back of her neck and covered her nakedness with the corner of the sheet. “I’ll have that bath now, I think,” she said softly. “But I’ll not have that serving woman who stood guard over me before. She was as surly as—” Suddenly she remembered the tattooed man. “The Indian? What happened to him?”
James shrugged and took another drink of the wine. “I don’t know. Matthew didn’t mention him, and since we were discussing more important things, I didn’t—”
“More important than a man’s life?” She crawled up onto the bed, dragging the sheet with her.
“Matthew knows about the treasure you brought up from the sea floor. He has the gold animals I sold. He knows we’ve found the
Miranda,
and he wants to be our partner.”
“Hellfire!” She scrambled down off the high bed. “I’ve one partner, and that’s more than enough.”
“My feelings exactly. But it won’t be so easy to deal with Matthew. Don’t let his appearance deceive you. Matthew is shrewd and utterly ruthless. He’s capable of doing whatever is necessary to reach his objective.”
“He lives well for a privateer,” she commented sarcastically, glancing around the chamber. After picking up James’s shirt, she pulled it over her head. It fell to mid-thigh. “A pirate, more like.”
James set the bottle down on a table and motioned her to come into his arms. When she did, he lifted the heavy mass of her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “I’m not certain he is a privateer, at least not anymore. There’s much of Matthew that makes me suspicious.”
“That saddens me immensely,” the captain said, pushing open the chamber door. “I’d trust you with my life, James.” He bowed to Lacy. “Madame. I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. “I am Captain Matthew Kay. And you are ...”
“Lacy Bennett,” she said. “And your manners, sir, are lacking.”
James tightened his arms around her protectively.
“Your wench has a tongue on her,” Matthew said.
“She’s right,” James replied. “If we are your guests, we should expect a measure of privacy.”
The captain smiled, all the while letting his gaze run down Lacy’s bare legs. “You always did have good taste in women, James. This one is a prize.”
“I’m not his woman,” Lacy corrected sharply. “I’m his partner.”
“She’s a natural redhead, isn’t she? They’re quite rare in the islands.”
James’s grip tightened. “She’s mine, Matthew.”
Lacy’s temper flared. “I told ye, I—”
“Keep still,” James warned her. “This is not open to discussion, Matthew,” he said quietly. “She’s mine, and she stays mine.”
“Under the circumstances, I don’t believe you’re in a position to be unreasonable, my boy,” Matthew answered. “Name your price. I’ll buy her from you. Or ... if you’d rather ... You always were a sporting man. How about a game of cards? Winner takes all.”
Lacy stiffened as James chuckled. “I’d say it all depends on what you’re willing to bet in return.”
The floor seemed to sway under Lacy’s feet. “No,” she protested. “You can’t. I—”
James spun her around, shoved her toward the bed, and swatted her backside. “Wait there, chit,” he said. “One of us will be back to keep you company, I promise.” With that, he strode across the room and slapped the captain on the back, and the two of them departed arm in arm, leaving Lacy to stare after them in complete shock.
Chapter 17
A
n hour passed and then another hour. Lacy’s astonishment changed to disbelief, then anger, then back to disbelief again. Surely she could trust James, she assured herself. He wouldn’t really wager her on a game of cards! Pretending to go along with Matthew Kay’s suggestion was only a ploy. It had to be! James might be a rogue, but he did love her. He loved her, and he was the father of her unborn child. Regardless of how he drove her to distraction, he’d never hand her over to another man.
Or would he?
Her fears and doubts battled with her common sense. How could the man she loved so deeply possibly betray her? She paced the floor, hating the waiting, the not knowing, while locked in this bedchamber with its grand furniture and carpet-strewn floor. For all the fancy trappings, this was a prison and she was as much a prisoner as she had been in the bowels of Newgate.
As soon as James and the captain had left the room, she’d run to the window and flung open the shutters. Outside, a pigtailed seaman, armed with a blunderbuss, had lounged against a palm tree. The leering guard had made an obscene gesture to her; she’d returned an equally filthy insult and slammed the shutters tight.
Guests of Matthew Kay, were they? The sentry outside her window satisfied any doubts she might have had about the captain’s intentions. Regardless of what had happened between Jamie and Kay in the past, she now knew that Captain Kay was her enemy.
She’d thrown herself on the bed, then risen and paced again. She’d drained the last of the wine, then heaved the bottle against a wall and smiled when it broke into a dozen pieces. But finally, when two black serving maids had entered the room with lit candles and a copper bathtub, she hid her displeasure from them and pretended to be too frightened to protest their instructions.
“I be Jumoke,” the older of the two women said. “Cap’n Kay, he say you wash.” She motioned to the younger girl, a round-faced beauty with close-cropped hair and huge sloe eyes. “This Oni.” Oni put her delicate ginger-colored hands over her mouth and giggled.
The women set the tub in the center of the room and Jumoke clapped her hands. Immediately, a procession of servants filed into the chamber, carrying buckets of hot water, soap, towels, silk slippers, stays, a shift, and an old-fashioned Spanish farthingale.
Jumoke glanced at Lacy impatiently. “Into de tub, lady, do it please.”
The matron spoke with such authority that Lacy was certain she was more than just a maid in this house. Lacy had never come in contact with a black woman before, and she wasn’t certain how to behave toward her. The slave woman—if she was a slave—showed none of the submissiveness of white servants at home in England.
“You
bath,”
Jumoke repeated firmly.
Lacy shook her head. “I can’t. Not with all these ...” She trailed off, feigning shyness.
Jumoke clapped her hands again, and the parade of servants departed. Obediently, Lacy stood still while Oni removed James’s white shirt. She stepped naked into the tub and allowed Jumoke and Oni to bathe her, wash her hair, and brush it into submission.
Next, Oni left the room for a few moments and returned with a magnificent Spanish-style gown of gold and black satin, set with rubies and seed pearls. The two maids tugged and poked and tucked until Lacy was fastened into the stiff undergarments and adorned with the priceless gown.
When Lacy’s hair had dried enough to suit Jumoke, Oni used irons heated in a charcoal brazier to curl the ends, then gathered the heavy mass of red tresses into a chignon in back. Next, Oni took a double string of freshwater pearls and wove them around the arrangement and over Lacy’s forehead to form a dainty crown. Finally, the younger black woman pulled cascading curls forward to fall on either side of Lacy’s face.
Jumoke fastened ruby earrings in Lacy’s ears and brushed her lips and cheekbones with the juice of berries to redden them. Lastly, the older woman dusted a faint layer of powder over Lacy’s face and accented her brows with charcoal. “Cap’n Kay see you now,” Jumoke said. “He say, tell you he be honored for de lady’s comp’ny.”
Still pretending submission, Lacy followed Oni out of the room and down a series of shadowy corridors to a richly furnished parlor. Both James and Captain Kay rose from a heavily laden table to welcome her.
“Come in, my dear,” Matthew Kay said smoothly. “You look magnificent.” He waved her to a seat, and a manservant hastened to pull back a walnut and gilt chair on the far side of the table. “Doesn’t she look exquisite, James?”
Lacy kept her eyes modestly averted as she attempted to sit down. The fullness of the gown and the rigidity of her too-tight stays made the action nearly impossible. When she finally managed to perch on the damask upholstered cushion, she felt as though she was balanced on the chair rather than actually in it. James was seated to her left at the foot of the ornately carved walnut table; the captain was at the head. Across from her, standing stiffly at attention, were three black manservants.
“I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to have you as my guest,” Matthew said. He raised his wine goblet in a salute. “Your beauty would grace the royal court of England.”
Lacy shielded her face from the captain with one hand and ventured a questioning glance at James. He offered a strained smile and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
“James has something of importance to tell you,” Matthew said. “James?”
James squirmed in his chair. “Luck was against me tonight,” he said.
“What he’s trying to tell you, my dear,” Matthew said, “is that you belong to me now. He lost you in a game of piquet.”
A servant removed the pewter plates in front of all three diners and replaced the empty dishes with silver ones containing stuffed squabs and a deep yellow vegetable that Lacy couldn’t put a name to.
She fluttered her lashes and smiled provocatively up at the captain. “The two of you played cards for me?” she asked softly, trying to imitate James’s refined speech. Matthew nodded. “And James lost?” The older man nodded again. “So, it is your belief that I will now be your ... your ...”
“Ladybird,” Matthew supplied.
Lacy’s rage was so great that she felt as though she might shatter like the wine bottle she’d thrown against the wall. By sheer force of will, she managed a coy smile, then glanced at James. “You wagered me on a game, Jamie? Like a mare or a hound bitch?”
He shrugged and flashed a boyish grin. “I didn’t expect to lose.”
Still smiling sweetly, Lacy seized the stuffed pigeon on her plate and heaved it with unerring accuracy straight at James’s head. “Ye egg-suckin’ snake!” she swore.
“Now, Lacy!” James threw up his arm to ward off the flying bird, but before it glanced off his elbow, she pitched her pewter wine goblet at him as well.
“And ye, ye pompous muck-worm!” She leaped to her feet and flung the contents of a gravy boat into the captain’s face. “’Twill be a merry day in hell afore I’ll spread my legs for the likes of you!” The captain roared with anger, and she seized a two-pronged fork from the table. “Stay clear of me,” she warned, “or I’ll grill your bollocks on the devil’s hearth.”
James rushed toward her, and she turned and started for the doorway. A servant blocked her passage. She raised the fork threateningly and he ducked out of her reach. James caught her arm and twisted the weapon from her hand. She struck him twice in the eye with her free fist before they both went down in a tangled heap on the floor. He pinned her wrists against the Turkey-red carpet, and for an instant, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I’ve not betrayed you.”
Her stinging reply scorched his ears.
James disengaged himself from the folds of her skirts and yanked her to her feet. “I told you she was a handful, Matthew,” he said breathlessly.
The captain’s answer faded as Lacy began to sink into the void of her own private world. Her eyes widened and she drew in a deep breath, trying desperately to hold back the spell. But it flowed over her in a dark, suffocating wave. She had the briefest sensation of falling ...
And then the room was gone, and she was surrounded by water. The coral reef was as bright and dazzling as a sunrise; each fish glistened as though the
scales were painted with liquid jewels. The ghostly sea plumes swayed in silent majesty amid the brilliant azure water.
She swam strongly, paying no heed to the menacing hammerhead shark that detached itself from the spires of an outgrowth of yellow-green cathedral coral. As she approached the wreck of the Miranda, she saw that the ship had rolled. A great crack ran from deck to keel a midship, severing the vessel nearly in two. Clearly visible in the bowels of the ruined schooner was a chest of gleaming gold.
Lacy reached out to pick up the treasure, and suddenly the scene changed. She was no longer in the Miranda—she was in the underwater cave. There before her was a heap of golden statues, jewelry, and sparkling gems. When she looked down, she saw that she had a golden mask in her hands. She added the
mask to her hidden trove, then turned to swim ...
“Lacy!” James’s voice cried. “Lacy!” He shook her roughly.
She opened her eyes to see him staring into her face. “Jamie,” she whispered faintly. It required too much effort to keep her eyes open, so she closed them again.
“Don’t do this, woman,” he ordered. “Come back.”
She sighed, content to rest in Jamie’s arms. Memories of the trance were strong. It was so hard to make the jump between this world and that; she wanted to drift in the warm blackness.
“Lacy.”
Obediently, she forced herself into the present. James’s face was pale, his lips taut. She couldn’t see Matthew Kay.
“I’ll take her back to our room,” James said. “She’s not well.”
“Take her to my chamber,” the captain said. “If she needs attention, I’ll call a physician from Port Royal. She is, after all, my responsibility now.”
James’s mouth turned up in a roguish smile. “What say you give me another chance, Matthew? High card takes the lady.”
“Not again,” she protested, pushing herself away from James. She caught the back of the chair for support. Her mind wasn’t yet clear, but she knew what she’d just heard. “You’ll not—” she began.
“High card, Matt?” James offered.
“And you? What will you wager?” the captain asked silkily.
“I know where the treasure lies,” James said. “You’ll never find it if—”
“No!” Lacy protested loudly. “Don’t tell him.”
Matthew chuckled. “High card.” He snapped his fingers, and instantly a servant produced a deck of playing cards. Matthew shuffled them, then laid the deck facedown on the table. “If I win, James,” he said, “I’ll have the woman and the gold.”
James laughed and reached for the deck.
At that instant, Lacy had an image of a card in her mind. This was no spell—she was wide awake—but she could see the features of a woman on the card James had yet to draw. And just as surely, she knew that the captain would pull the king. “No,” she interrupted, stepping between James and the table. Her voice dropped to a sultry tone. “If I’m to be the prize, I’ll choose.” She put her hand over the cards, then hesitated and flashed Matthew Kay a dazzling smile. “Ye first, m’lord.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “If ye dare.”
The captain moved closer. “As you wish, madame,” he replied. Smiling, he cut the deck and revealed his card. “A lady for a lady,” he said.
It was the dark queen, the card she had seen as James’s choice. “A good selection,” she murmured. “But if luck favors me, sir, what proof do I have that you’ll let us go free?”
Matthew Kay’s lined face hardened. “My word.”
“Ye shall let us leave this house and this island,” she said. “Swear it.” She leaned toward him, holding his gaze with her own. “No disrespect to your honor, captain,” she purred, “but a woman must look after her own interests.”
“And if mine is the winning card,” Matthew insisted, “you’ll give to me freely what you’ve given to James.”
“Of course,” she lied sweetly. Damn all men and their ridiculous rivalries! she fumed inwardly. Thank God she’d been born with more sense. No matter what happened, she’d never give her heart to another man. What she’d offered to Jamie could only be given once in a lifetime.
“Lacy,” James said, “this isn’t your—”
She glared at him. “I told you, I’m no saddle mare to be bartered at your will!” She smiled again at Captain Kay and drew the king from the stack of cards.
 
Two weeks and an open stretch of water separated them from Captain Matthew Kay’s hospitality. They were once more aboard the
Silkie
, anchored off the island of Arawak, and Lacy was preparing to dive down to the wreck again.
This time, they weren’t alone; the Incan Kutii was with them. He’d been waiting on the
Silkie
with the cat when James and Lacy had returned to the boat. To James’s annoyance, Harry showed no hostility toward the Indian. In fact, he seemed as willing to rub against Kutii’s ankles or curl up in his lap as he was with Lacy. And nothing James could say would convince Kutii to leave the boat or Lacy’s side.
“She saved me,” Kutii said simply. “Now I serve her.”
To James’s surprise, Lacy had agreed. “He was in my vision,” she said. “I don’t know why or how, any more than I know how he knew where to find the
Silkie,
but he did and he’s supposed to be with me. Even Harry knows it. And if we leave Kutii in Jamaica, they’ll capture him again.”
“If that damned cat likes him, it’s because he fed it half our rations,” James grumbled. Harry ruffled the fur on his back and hissed at him.
“I stay,” Kutii repeated.
“I saw him in my vision,” Lacy insisted.
Outnumbered, James had thrown up his hands in defeat and Kutii had become a member of the crew.
BOOK: Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress
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