The Winds of Fate (38 page)

He held her securely in his arms, dreams of this haunting him forever now real. He had never begun to imagine the magic that he could feel, and if he feared of anything, he was afraid that he might never come to a place in his life again when he could know such sweet and soaring pleasure. His wife slept against him naked, her hair splayed over him,
her slim white hand upon his bronzed chest. A fierce tension seized hold of him. He had not imagined that any woman could create such a desire within him, could arouse such passions, such a deep tempest.

She shifted slightly, then realized he was awake. She turned slowly in his arms and her eyes widened, grasping he’d been awake for some time, studying her. She searched his face, her eyes golden splendor in the silvery sheen. A look of longing held in her gaze, a longing as deep and as keen as the one hungering in his chest.

Devon moved a strand of her hair away from where it cloaked her breast. She moved her arms about him, beckoning him closer to her as they lay on his bed. Her scent and heat surrounded him like a sensual miasma. The magic and memory of this night swirled a potent brew that would drown him in heady passion. He rolled atop her into the white slant of the moon’s glow.

She wasn’t wondering at his thoughts anymore−his body tensed and tightened, felt the cup of his hand upon her cheek, and before she could speak, he kissed her, forcefully, seductively, denying any chance of protest. In response, she weaved her soft arms about his neck, splaying her fingers down his shoulders and back. He liked her free response, moving her hands everywhere to pleasure him.

A hand upon his chest, she pushed him back to his elbows. She leaned over him, her hair veiling them in a canopy of silk.

“Hungry?” she teased.

“Starving.”

When her lips met his, he needed no urging to part his own. Her soft breasts pushed into his chest. When he entered her, her eyes closed and he saw the soft sweep of her lashes and heard the soft pleading moans as she cried out for him in a sweet pinnacle of release.

How much more entranced could he be? Devon exhaled and glanced at the sky framed through the doors. Night still lingered in the west where the dark purple strip was studded with stars, but eastward the upper lobe of the sun peeked over the horizon. From now on, with his wife sleeping next to him, he would love to see the sun come up over the horizon and spread across the water.

Claire had always been his and their lay a certain male satisfaction of pride in that fact. She was his wife in every word and deed. The vows were spoken, and consummated. In fact, the way they couldn’t get enough of each other, it would not be long before she came to him and announced she would have their child.
His child
. The belief and joy of that occurrence lie beyond his wildest imagination. All her barriers of fear had faded away, and now she embraced him with a delight that filled him with a tenderness so deep he ached inside.

Then why this bothersome doubt that ran frigid along his spine?

He didn’t know, nor did he care. He curled against her, holding the woman he cherished tight against him.

Claire opened the small makeshift jail. She detested this errand and hated going against Devon’s orders to stay strictly in the house. But Cookie who normally took the prisoners their food had begged this one small favor. Bloodsmythe had planned a special outing. Cookie was walking on clouds with the expectation of a proposal. Who was she to stop Cupid’s arrow?

Claire shoved open the door of the prison, a small building cordoned off into two parts that included a barred cell. Her uncle blinked, the wavering sunlight made him appear more inhuman than ever. He wore no wig, and his bald pate had the luminescent quality of a cadaver. Sir Teakle, his silk and lace filthy and drooping fared no better.

“It’s my dearest niece come to feed us,” Jarvis sneered. “The world would call you a fool to keep company with a devil like that.”

“I would think in your current state, you’d be appreciative of the kindness given to you by Devon. I remember how well you treated him.”

“You throw away a chance to be a countess?” Sir Teakle snorted, his huge bulk winnowed down from his incarceration. “But you’re not the sort to put great store in rank and coronet.”

“Never would I desire to be your wife. You are as contemptible as my uncle.” Claire moved into the cell, eager to deposit the food and leave to seek out her husband.

“You think I know nothing?” Jarvis spat. “He’s a damned pirate, a cut-throat villain. I’ve known plenty, and they never change. It’s in his blood. He’ll have many women besides you. Would you be happy when he tires of you, to be cast aside? He only has the hangman’s noose awaiting him and disgrace for you.”

Claire seethed. “I will not listen to you disparage Devon. He is kind and noble, far from what you could claim for yourself. Never will I be in your power again. I love Devon and will never leave him.”

“So you play the whore with that pirate thief.”

That comment jerked her to attention, and she laughed in Jarvis’s face. “I am his wife!”

“
His wife
?” Jarvis exploded. “You think you are so smart. I’ll have you know that I plotted to have your family killed. Paid a heavy sum to have my brother’s carriage sabotaged, the wheel breaking precisely, rounding a bend, casting you, and your mother and father over a cliff. That’s right. I killed your father and mother. My entire life, I hated my brother and everything he represented. He had the beautiful wife, family, success in everything he accomplished. I was the poor younger brother with nothing, always in his shadow, and I hated him for it. Yet his brat survived. I couldn’t wait to throw you out. I burned the will that left the majority of assets to you and seized everything for myself,” he laughed. “You even own the plantation in Jamaica.”

Numb with shock, Claire inched to the door. The demonic gleam in Jarvis’s eye rattled up her spine. He was mad. She moved to the door. “You paid to have my father and mother killed?” Claire reeled from the revelation. A warning voice nagged her. “Where is the guard?” She barely uttered the words when Sir Teakle grabbed her from behind. “How dare you do this on Devon’s island? You’re fools. You have no place to escape. Devon will hunt you down.” She opened her mouth to scream. Filthy lace was thrust into her mouth. Claire gagged. She fought and bucked. With her free hand, she swung and hit Teakle in the eye. He swore. Her uncle pressed a knife at her throat and she stilled.

“Now my lovely,” Teakle breathed into her ear. “You will do exactly as we say.” He laughed, his voice stayed absolutely emotionless and it
chilled her. She kicked at him. He wrenched her arms behind her and tied her hands.

“That’s better,” her uncle said. “You have been nothing but a bitch that needs to learn obedience. I’ve made an arrangement for our freedom. To think I can exchange the treasure dearest to the Black Devil.”

He flung her out the door. Claire stumbled over the guard. Young Johnnie lay bound and still. A large red lump swelled on the side of his head. Was he dead? Jarvis kicked him and he moaned. Claire closed her eyes, thankful he was alive.

“We’ve no time to waste,” said Teakle, nursing his eye.

“I should have had the Black Devil whipped to death when he was a slave under my thumb. But I think this plan is better. It will eat at him like acid, his wife vanishing with no trace of her footsteps. Le Trompeur will be getting a bigger prize. The wife of the Black Devil.”

Claire froze. The desperate reality of her situation came clear. She fought like a demon. She fell and he yanked her to her feet.

“It is useless to fight my dear. You will suffer at the hands of the French pirate.” He shoved her through dense foliage. Jarvis navigated a route far from the village and notice of Devon’s men. “I relish the fact that he is not kind to women. With great pleasure, I can get even with the Black Devil, and have the satisfaction of trumping my dead brother.”

On the beach, the black spines of the
Mer Un Serpent
lay silhouetted against a brilliant sky. She was picked up and tossed into a waiting boat. The rapid thrust of oars lapped against the water.

Le Trompeur was the first to greet her. “Mademoiselle, an honor to see you, again.”

Like a beached whale, Jarvis hefted his body on the deck eager to tell Le Trompeur his good fortune. “She is not Mademoiselle. She is the Black Devil’s wife.”

“His wife?”

The pirate’s pupils dilated enough for Claire to glimpse a flicker of insecurity. He circled her. “Untie Madame Blackmon’s hands.”

“He will hunt you down for taking me.”

He tapped a fingernail beneath her chin. “His ship remains in dry-dock. I will be days away before he is finished with repairs.”

“Devon will find you. This I promise.”

Le Trompeur raised his eyebrows. “So much boldness. I do not think you are as confident as you pretend. As I covet gold, I covet the wife of the Black Devil. You will perform for me the same as you do for him.”

“I will not let you touch me.”

He coiled a mass of her hair tight to his fingers and yanked her face inches before his own. “We are at an impasse. I do remember your dangerous feet. A lesson must be learned. I want you begging.” He jerked his head to his men. “Tie her to the mast. No water or food comes to her mouth except by my hand.”

Ropes were bound around her. The crew snickered. Jarvis and Teakle jeered. The sails were let out. A brisk breeze propelled them out to sea. Abandoned to the horrors of Le Trompeur, her vision blurred as the shore of Paradise grew distant, the tree line shrunk to a stripe of green until the island disappeared into an ocean of blue. If only she could see Devon one more time.

Devon sprinted from the shipyard. Claire was to meet him at noon. She was never late. No one was at the house. He checked the lagoon. Flawed reasoning suggested she visited with Jenny and had forgotten the time. Bloodsmythe and Cookie walked hand and hand toward him. “Have you seen Claire?”

Cookie shrugged. “This morning I gave her victuals to deliver to her uncle and Sir Teakle. I have not seen her since.”

His legs broke out into a run. Bloodsmythe shouted after him. Why didn’t he throw Jarvis and Teakle overboard? He reached the makeshift jail to find the door banging open and left unguarded. He would skewer Johnnie for abandoning his post. A whimper to the rear of the jail raised the hackles on his neck. Johnnie lay trussed like a sausage, a lump the size of a hen’s egg bulged on his forehead. He drew a knife from his belt and cut the boy’s gag and binds.

“Where is she?”

“Jarvis and Teakle are trading her for their freedom by selling her to Le Trompeur. They left hours ago.”

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. The great danger Claire found herself was born a result of his negligence. No chance Le Trompeur was still around. He would have left as soon as he had her. Images of what that French son of a bitch would do to Claire flashed through his mind. He raced to the boatyard. “Get the
Sea Scorpion
and
Golden Gull
ready to sail. Now.”

Dooley turned to see if he’d lost his senses. The
Sea Scorpion
was hauled up on rollers on the beach ready to be tarred.

Johnnie pulled up short and placed his hands on his knees, his head bowed in gulping breaths. “There’s more, Captain Blackmon. Jarvis told Claire how he hated his brother and paid to have her family killed to get the family’s wealth.”

Bloodsmythe huffed beside him and Cookie clucked. “My dear baby. I knew Jarvis was not to be trusted. I never conceived he murdered Claire’s parents.”

Dooley shook his head. “Six days before we’re ready, sir.”

“Le Trompeur has my wife! Every single man must work around the clock.”

Cookie flapped to the keel of the boat and picked up a bucket of hot tar. “I can wield a brush as well as anyone. We have to save Claire.”