The Pirate Bride (16 page)

Afterward they lay together, soaked and spent, gasping, for long moments. The sun dappled them as its rays passed through the trees. The sounds of the waterfall and the rustling palm fronds made themselves evident once again. The world returned.

Holding her was so sweet that he didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. He idly moved his fingers gently over her flesh while they regained their breath….

As time passed, the breeze grew chill upon their naked, cooling flesh.

At last, her sense of self returning, she drew away from him, no false modesty now, but proud in her naked glory. She got nimbly to her feet and looked down on him with a knowing smile.

“Actually,” she said, “I do believe that was quite a bit…nicer than anything I’ve ever seen in a tavern.”

And with that she returned to the water to rinse. And, in time, without looking at him again, she found her clothing and dressed, then walked away.

C
ASSANDRA STOOD ON
deck, staring out at the beauty of the water. The day was sunny, and yet the breeze was enough to keep the air cool, making it far more pleasant outside than in her cabin. She only wished the breeze could blow away the worry that tore at her heart.

A little while ago they had passed a merchantman and learned of the storm that had demolished many a vessel. And there had been no word from the feared pirate Red Robert, so many assumed he had gone down to the bottom, as well.

She winced. She was and always had been a child of privilege. But a responsible one, she thought. Now the lesson that her father had always tried so hard to teach her came home with a vengeance.

Money could not buy everything. It couldn’t stop the wind, and it couldn’t control the seas. It couldn’t defeat death.

She sensed her father coming to stand by her. “We will find him,” he consoled her gently.

She hesitated, unsure what to say. She loved Logan. He was her best friend. But she didn’t dare tell her father that she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend a lifetime with him. She didn’t want to explain that she didn’t want to be there, where they were, sailing the dangerous seas that Logan loved so much. She liked dry land. She loved tea parties and balls. And books. Logan was handsome and strong and exciting, and she loved his stories of adventure. Loved the passion and excitement in his eyes when he talked of his life on the waves. But…she wasn’t sure she wanted to share that life.

There were times when she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to survive the mad combination of passion and fire that made up his life.

But that was something she certainly wasn’t about to attempt to explain now. Now when her father was risking life and limb and fortune on Logan’s behalf, first to find him and ransom him from pirates, and then now…hoping against hope he was alive. Somewhere. In a sea that somehow seemed larger than the whole of the universe.

“Of course we will find him, Father,” she said now, then smiled and hugged him tightly. He was such a fine man. He always stood up for his beliefs, even when it meant disagreeing with the governor, and even if his opinions were not always popular. But he was above reproach. Quietly firm, never violent. His mind and his eloquence were his weapons. He had funded homes for orphans, the aging and the dying. He had told her once that God had been so kind to him that he would surely rot in hell if he didn’t match God’s heavenly kindness here on earth.

She pulled away and studied him. He had a fine and firm physique for a man of such peaceful conviction. He was tall and sturdy. His snow-white hair was abundant, so he was never in need of a wig. His cheekbones were high, his brows were bushy and slightly darker than his hair. He was always dressed impeccably, and stood ramrod-straight, except when he paused to offer a hug to a friend, a child or his own beloved daughter.

“We will find him, Father,” she said again. “I have no fear,” she assured him, though inwardly, she winced, for was it not her fault Logan was here, at best a prisoner, and at worst…

For Logan had set out to sea at least in part to earn enough money to be worthy of her hand.

But there were darker reasons, as well, she knew and had always known. She had tried to dissuade him from his search for vengeance, even though she had known that should she succeed, she would surely change the man she so admired.

Her best friend.

No, as dear and fine and reasonable as her father was, this was not the time to explain that when she saw Logan again, she would have to tell him that they were not meant to be man and wife, partners for life.

“Logan is a survivor, child. He is out there. The ship might have been damaged. They may even now be lying low in an inlet somewhere, making repairs. Whatever has happened, child, we shall find him.”

“Ahoy!”

The call came from above. Shading her eyes against the sun, Cassandra looked up as the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted out, “Ship on the horizon!”

Her father fumbled for his spyglass. She heard the captain running forward, and she hurried with her father to join him at the bow.

“Well?” her father demanded.

“Looks like…someone just took down the Union Jack.”

“So…it’s a British ship?”

“I don’t know,” Captain Reynolds said. He was heavy in physique, still hinting of a once powerful body, and his bandy little sea legs were strong. His face was a mask of worried wrinkles.

“A British ship, changing its flag?” Cassandra said.

“It’s a pirate ship,” the captain said.

“A pirate? It might be…Red Robert!” Cassandra said, hope flooding through her. The pirate would keep their bargain; she was certain of that with all her heart.

But the captain shook his head slowly. “I know the flag beneath which Red Robert sails.” He was frowning.

As they watched, they saw the other ship raise a skull and crossbones.

The gun hatches opened.

The captain turned in a rush and shouted,

“Man the guns! Steer hard to the east, and pray God we can outrun her!”

J
IMMY
O’H
ARA
found Brendan at the captain’s desk, his expression dismal as he studied charts. So many islands. So many inlets…

Were Red and Logan even alive?

They had to be. Red’s quest had been his quest. Life was…the fight, the chance, the hope, that she had given him. Given all of them. She was out there, she was alive, and he was going to find her. That was that.

He had bidden the man to enter but been so intent on his maps that he hadn’t even looked up. When O’Hara cleared his throat, Brendan shifted his attention to his visitor at last.

“Aye, O’Hara?”

“I thought I might be of service.”

Brendan was skeptical. The man was a damned good cook, but he was also a coward, and he had accepted money to attack Red when she had done him no ill. That was hardly laudable, especially in the pirate world.

“You wish to be of service?” Brendan asked skeptically.

O’Hara nodded.

“In what way?”

O’Hara walked forward and picked up Brendan’s compass, setting the point upon a spot on the chart. It appeared to be water, surrounded by tiny islands.

Brendan arched a brow to him.

“Me brother was a mapmaker, and he told me a secret of the mapmakers’ brotherhood, the existence of Isla de Muerta. Those who have happened upon her do not chart her. A silent agreement.”

“Isle of death?” Brendan asked, confused.

O’Hara shrugged. “She is an oasis many a captain does not care to share, and so the name. Volcanic formation, a fresh water spring, rich with mangoes and fish. If you look at our position before the storm, think of the wind and currents…” He drew an invisible line.

Brendan nodded, feeling a surge of hope.

And a sense of wariness.

He had no problem believing that the men who had chanced upon the island and partaken of its resources might not want its presence known, but…

He stared hard at O’Hara.

Was the man offering this information in honest friendship and good faith?

Or was it a trap?

A
H
,
YES
,
SLAKE THE THIRST
, and then it will go away.

No. It would not.

Red wished Logan were cruel. That he was foolish, unaware of books or the world. That he had the usual sense of superiority possessed by titled men. She wished she could find one thing about him that was loathsome.

She wished…

She wished with all her heart that she had never set eyes on him. And she wished most desperately that she had never touched him, never let him touch her, for now she knew a passion that was far sweeter than any revenge.

She felt the heat of the sun and wondered just how long she had been staring at the waves, her mind in constant turmoil.

She knew she must make a small and pathetic figure against the vastness of the sea and sky. Insignificant. The Old World was far, far away, and even the New World seemed to be distant here. All her rage and hatred were nothing against the scope of the ocean, and yet the ocean itself was as nothing to the hurt in her heart and soul.

Because sooner or later they would be found.

And then…

Whatever bond they had created here would be nothing once they were back in the world, just as she was nothing against the enormity of the sea.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she was startled when his hands fell on her shoulders. She spun around to look at him, then quickly stepped back, afraid now of closeness as she had not been before.

“Tea is served, Captain,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Tea. Also, a delicious menu of softened biscuit and sugar, with tidbits of coconut.”

“Lovely.”

“Not to mention the not-so-delicately seasoned salt beef I just uncovered. I’m afraid I’ve been soaking it for a bit now, but it’s still a challenge to the teeth.”

She lowered her head, smiling. “My God. I had no idea how long I’d been standing here. You’ve…prepared a veritable feast.”

“Feast? You are too kind, dear Captain.”

“Ah, well, these days, one’s definition of a feast can be quite…fluid.”

“Come, then, if you will?” He offered her an elaborate bow. “This is the kind of feast much better enjoyed hot, before the true taste makes itself known.”

She lowered her head, smiling, and preceded him back to their living area.

“Shall I pour?” she asked politely.

“Indeed,” he said, and she made a play of preparing their tea, her mannerisms a perfect mockery of afternoon tea at the finest mansion in the colonies.

“You’re very good,” he said.

She shrugged. “Brendan said I could have been an actress.”

“A better choice than pirating.”

“I didn’t choose pirating, it chose me.” She kept her attention on the food he prepared.

“Pirating
chose
you?”

She stared at him then, her expression a mixture of defiance and matter-of-factness.

“It did.”

“Many a pirate has found a way to make a living on dry land.”

“Some have,” she admitted. “But usually they find their end in the embrace of a noose.”

“Because they didn’t change their ways before they were caught by those who give orders to the hangman,” he said, his tone hard and aggravated.

She looked up at him, refraining from returning his anger. “Laird Haggerty, you will not change me, nor will you deter me from my purpose.”

Stubborn woman, he thought angrily. Couldn’t she see that his intent was to help her? He had to make her see the error of her ways, no matter how passionately she loathed Blair Colm. He could, and would—somewhere, somehow, some way—deal with the man himself. He had as much right or more.

“You must realize—”

“I realize a great deal, Laird Haggerty. And it changes nothing.”

“You are a stubborn mule, and a foolhardy one.”

“Foolhardy was taking you prisoner,” she returned, and he saw that her temper was rising to meet his own.

“It makes no sense for you to continue pursuing the man so feverishly.”

“I’m stranded on an island,” she reminded him. “I’m not pursuing anyone.”

He moved closer and leaned over her, his face so close to hers that she couldn’t possibly ignore him. “I will find him. We will both be avenged.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes, the laird will go after him, the all-powerful laird
.
”

“I have power you don’t.”

She stared at him for a long while, not flinching away. And then she smiled again. “Who was the prisoner,
Laird
Haggerty? And who had the power?”

He swore, moving away from her, his patience tested by the fact that he had no good answer to her question.

He wished he could walk out on her.

That there was a door to slam.

Since there wasn’t, he swore beneath his breath again, then strode away to stare out across the water.

A few moments later, he heard her come up behind him.

“What?” he snapped.

“You really should partake of the food you prepared,” she said.

He turned and stared at her.

“I can go elsewhere, if you wish, and leave you in peace while you eat,” she offered.

“I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve met you and now I shall have no peace,” he muttered. But then he started back toward the fire, food and his tea. He was hungry, damn it, and he had prepared the meal, after all. He winced. Was there something of male pride in all this? God help him. Was it instinctual? They’d made love. Made love, dammit. For what they had shared was no simple act of desperate sex.

Why couldn’t she see that he was trying as hard as he could to protect her?

She followed him back. “You are attacking me, bear in mind. I’ve not said a word against you or your way of life. However
stupid
it might have been.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You knew the sea was full of pirates when you decided to make your riches-laden journey across the Caribbean.”

That she was right didn’t help matters in the least. He knew he shouldn’t have risked the voyage. Knew it. But he had gambled. He had the right to gamble—and the need. How else could he find the wherewithal to make his way in society and rebuild the home that had been so brutally taken? Those were things he needed to do in his father’s name. And yes, once Cassandra had seemed to be part of that dream. But he had always intended revenge, as well.

“I knew what I was doing.”

She simply stared at him cuttingly.

“It was a calculated risk.”

“Your calculations were off.”

He smiled politely. “I am alive,” he told her.

“Because I’m merciful.”

“And you’re alive right now because of
me,
” he reminded her pleasantly.

“I didn’t ask you to save my life,” she said.

“No. Sorry, it was just an instinctive thing to do.”

She spoke slowly. “You saved my life, and I am grateful. But it is still
my
life.”

“Actually, in certain cultures, you would now be my slave.”