Fortune's Flames (13 page)

“Damn traitors, if you ask me,” one man declared angrily.

“Yep, this country is full of them,” Jared said. “Most describe themselves as loyal Americans while they sell us out to the Brits.”

“It’s up to you, Miss James,” one of the players said.

Maren pulled her gaze from Jared’s handsome face, glanced at the hand spread before him—a royal flush—and frowned. Only five of a kind could beat him and they were not playing any wild cards. “I’m afraid Captain Hawk is the winner tonight, gentlemen.”

Jared smiled and stood. “It’s closing time, so I’ll collect later. I can trust you to hold the money for me, can’t I, Miss James?”

“She runs an honest house, Captain Hawk, the best one.”

“You should take your winnings with you, sir. You can’t ever tell when you’ll be called to sea to battle our enemy.” The moment Maren had said that, she winced inwardly, for she knew he would leave some day soon.

“Better it be in your lovely hands than those of the British if I’m captured,” he replied, provoking laughter from the men who were rising to leave.
“What if I collect it tomorrow when I take you to lunch?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I do not see my patrons socially.”

“But I’m an old friend of your father’s and a sailor soon off to war.”

“So you are, Captain Hawk, but that doesn’t prevent gossip.”

Maren sighed heavily as she turned onto her left side. Then she screamed as her sleepy eyes touched on the man leaning neligently against her bedpost. The night candle revealed his face as he sat down beside her. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” she asked quickly.

Jared smiled. “I’m a soldier at war; we have our ways of getting into the enemy’s camp. I came to collect my winnings.”

There was a loud knock at the door of Maren’s suite, and Mary Malone called out, “Miss Maren, are you all right? Miss Maren?”

Maren flung the bedcovers aside and rushed to the door. Opening it, she said, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Mary. It was only a bad dream. I’m fine now, but thanks for checking on me.”

When Maren returned, Jared was stretched out on the warm spot she had so swiftly vacated. “I need to work on your bad habit of lying,” he stated coolly.

“You devilish rake, what did you expect me to tell
her?” Maren whispered as she stood beside her bed in a thin nightgown, her tousled hair tumbling about her shoulders. “How did you get in here? If you can enter at will, so can thieves. Tell me so I can correct it.”

“I’d like to think I have talents they don’t, Miss James. Relax, you’re in no danger from thieves or from me. I only wanted to talk privately with you. I tried at lunch, but I was told you were out.”

“I went to visit my cousin Marc, Eric’s brother.”

“Did you have a nice time?” he inquired casually.

“No, I couldn’t find him,”

“Is he that blond lad I met on my first day here?”

“At James Shipping?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it must have been Marc. He isn’t too bright, and I worry about him. I can’t imagine where he is.”

“What about at home on a Saturday?”

“I tried there, but no one answered the door. He lives with Eric in the townhouse we used to own.”

“Used to own?”

“Yes, Eric had to…You’re mighty nosy, Jared Morgan.”

“I know; it’s one of those bad habits you’ll have to break.”

“I’m going to break your neck if you don’t get out of here, after you tell me how you got in. What if someone saw you?”

“No one did, Maren. I can move like the mist.”

“In case you don’t know it, Captain Hawk, mist isn’t invisible.”

“Heavens, woman, haven’t you heard my legend? Captain Hawk and the
Sea Mist
can’t be seen or heard until they’re down your throat.”

“Very amusing, Jared. Are you going to answer me?”

“And give away my best secret?”

“You’re impossible!”

“No, my fetching siren, I’m not, at least where you’re concerned.”

“What do you want, Jared? It’s late and I’m tired.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday; you can sleep all day.”

“No, I can’t. I have books to do. I work, remember?”

“Why don’t you hire someone to do them for you so you can relax?”

“I can’t afford any more employees,” she said, then quickly added, “There is a war going on and business is not at its peak.”

“It doesn’t look to me as if it could get much better. People around here are carrying on as usual. The war is some distant nightmare to them, and I hope it stays that way,” Jared murmured. He wondered why Maren was handling the books instead of letting Dan do them. Had she changed that procedure?

“You must leave, Jared. I can’t afford idle gossip. It’s hard enough to be a woman in business without having more trouble.”

“More trouble?”

“Must you pounce on every word I utter?” she asked, exasperated.

“You said it, so it must be important.”

“Why must it be important, especially to you?”

“Because everything you say or do or think means something to me,” he replied tenderly, sitting up and pulling her down beside him.

“Don’t do this, Jared,” she softly pleaded as she clutched his hand.

He was glad she had not fully realized the facts: he had broken into her room, she was attired in a nightgown, and in the middle of the night they were sitting on her bed, talking. “Do what, Maren?”

“Confuse me. You aren’t behaving the way you did years ago.”

Jared considered her words for a minute before asking, “What do you mean, years ago?”

Maren jumped up and turned her back on him. But he rose and pulled her around to face him. In the candlelight they could see each other’s faces. When Maren’s gaze lowered, Jared lifted her chin, and she bravely met his eyes.

“What did you mean?” he persisted.

“All right,” she yielded. “We met years ago, when I was fifteen, actually on my fifteenth birthday. I was smitten with you. That’s why I acted so…foolish on the ship and in Jamaica. I remembered you.”

“Cameron never introduced us,” he argued. “I would have recalled.”

“He didn’t,” she confessed, then revealed the entire story to him. Withdrawing from his arms, she retrieved the dried nosegay from her lowboy. “I found it when I was going through my things after I returned. It sounds so silly now, and I acted
so… stupid on the ship and in Jamaica. You see, Jared, I remembered you, but you could not have remembered me. No wonder you thought me so wicked.”

When Jared chuckled, she punched him in the stomach and chided, “It isn’t funny. I was a very impressionable young girl. I thought I had forgotten about you until you sailed into my life again.”

“Maren, my bewitching siren, it makes perfect sense, wonderful sense. The only silly thing about it is the misunderstanding. That’s why you seemed familiar. Honestly, I remember you as a young girl and a wharf lad. You touched me as both. Let your dreams of me come alive.” He drew her against him and hugged her tightly, and his lips wandered over her brown hair and her cheek before they found her lips. As their mouths fused and explored, Maren clung to him and responded to his demanding siege on her senses. Her body was pressed snugly to his.

“I want you, Maren James,” Jared murmured against her ear.

“And I want you, Jared Morgan,” she responded ardently.

Jared leaned away from her and asked, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be sorry about this later.”

“I’m twenty, Jared. I know what I want and need— you.”

“I’m not a girlish fantasy anymore. I’m real, Maren, and this night will be real. But I’ll have to leave soon. Can you accept having only this part of me until the war is over?”

Maren allowed her gaze to roam over his face. She had time to make her decision; he was not rushing her. She caressed his strong jawline and fingered his lips. She did not want to talk about the future; this moment counted most, these feelings. She must not intimidate him with a demand for a commitment. She must be honest to a point, then remain mysterious. She had to entice him to come back to her, and to keep coming back because he could not survive without her. She had to feed him little by little from love’s frightening dish, until he was addicted to her ambrosia and had to feast on it each day for survival. She must not pose a threat to his freedom, until he was willing to discard it. She had to begin this relationship on the bottom step, then mount the stairs with him one at a time. If they were to become friends, more than lovers, they had to climb together, slowly, deliberately, carefully. Starting at a romantic peak left no place to go but down if things did not work out. Yes, this romantic ladder had to be climbed one rung at a time, beginning tonight….

“Yes, Jared, it’s enough for now.”

“Swear you won’t make any more dangerous voyages. Swear you’ll remain here in New Orleans where you’ll be safe.”

“I can’t make such promises, Jared. My grandparents are old; their time is limited. If this war is prolonged, I’ll find a way to visit them again.”

“But we’re at war with Britain. How can you go back there? How can you socialize with our enemies?”

“They aren’t my enemies, Jared. I’m not at war with my family and my friends.”

“During a war, Maren, you have to take a side, a stand.”

“Not against my grandparents or my friends.”

“Then why did you leave London during the war to return to no one? You were safe with your grandparents.”

“When I left London with Eric, I didn’t know my parents were dead. We had been out of contact since June of 1812. Eric told me they’d died after we were underway.” Maren brushed over the explanation of her parents’ deaths and of what she had believed when she’d met Jared on the
Martha J. “I
didn’t know I still had Lady Luck; that’s why I needed to keep the necklace. I intended to sell it so I could make a fresh start. I think Eric was right to withhold the tragic news of my parents from our grandparents. How could they endure the death of their last son?”

“That still doesn’t explain why Eric came after you at such an inopportune time. Why did he sail into the arms of
the
enemy and risk losing his ship and crew? Why didn’t he leave you there until
the
end of the war? He took you away from your grandparents when their years are short, deprived you of their support and of good surroundings to drop you into a gambling house. It doesn’t make sense, Maren. Why did he visit London?”

“I can’t tell you, Jared. Please don’t ask again. Besides,” she said softly, “this isn’t the time to discuss war or business.”

Maren’s first words had implied there was something
she could not reveal, something important. Being a presidential spy was an arduous task, one that demanded a great deal of Jared, and he must keep his mission secret, even from his newfound love. Much as he craved Maren, he had to press her on this urgent matter before things went any further between them.

He said firmly, “You must tell me the truth this time, Maren. Why did your ship stop in Jamaica and why did you sail so hurriedly after my arrival? Where is Eric now? What is he doing?”

“I’ve told you all I can, Jared. Please let this subject go, especially tonight.”

“I can’t, Maren,” he responded. “We have to settle this matter before we get any closer.”

“You seem overly interested in my cousin,” she said accusingly. “In fact, you seem more interested in Eric than in me. Why is that, Jared?”

“That isn’t true, Maren, but I have to know everything about him. He had a reason for being in London, and it wasn’t to rescue you. All that stuff about sailing from France and carrying French papers, it wasn’t true. Why did an American on an American ship put into a British port? Will it help you to decide to answer my questions if I tell you I’m working for President Madison? I am, and this information could be vital to America, to our victory.”

Maren took offense at Jared’s tone, look, and implication. She wondered if this mysterious privateer had learned about the gold shipment and had
been trailing them to steal it. When he had been unable to locate it during his attack, perhaps he had followed them to Jamaica, then to New Orleans. Was he manipulating her, using her love for him so he might learn where the gold was hidden? She spoke to the man who was with her, to this stranger Jared had become. “If you thought we were French, Captain Hawk, why did you rob us? If you didn’t believe it, why did you let us sail away? And have you forgotten that you also entered that enemy port? We had export business there, but you didn’t. You were trailing us, weren’t you? Perhaps you should tell me the truth for a change.”

“I told you, Maren, I’m working for the President, for America. I use Captain Hawk and the
Sea Mist
to carry out my secret missions. I think Eric James is a traitor and a British spy. Convince me he isn’t.”

Maren was stunned by this accusation. She knew what happened to traitors and spies—they were executed—but she could not believe Eric was guilty of either crime. Nor could she betray her own kin, not even to Jared, unless she had undeniable proof. Fragments from her parents’ letters came to her mind. Perhaps she was wrong about Eric. She had no proof that he was misleading her; she had only suspicions which might have logical explanations. After reading those letters, she could believe a lot of things about Eric James, but that he might be committing treason and spying were too much for her to accept. Maybe Jared was the one she shouldn’t trust, at least not so blindly and quickly. If he was
working for the President as he claimed, wouldn’t he know about Eric’s mission? And she could not forget how Jared had treated her upon his arrival in New Orleans. Was he only after the gold?

“Well?” he prompted. “Can you?”

“Even if you didn’t already have your mind set against him, why should I try? If you knew Eric James at all, you wouldn’t say such things.”

“If that’s an invitation to hang around until he returns, I accept. Since you’re so protective of him, I’ll just study him on my own. I hope you learn to trust me, Maren. If what I think about your cousin is true, he could get you into real trouble if you stick with him.”

“If that’s supposed to scare me into betraying Eric, it won’t work.”