In a Pirate's Debt Page 7

  Lucas shrugged. “I want you and Sinbad to escort Miss Allston to her aunt’s house, which I understand is just off Bay Street. Take Mama Penn with you. She’s told me she would like to stay with Miss Allston. Maybe the aunt can use a good cook and helper. On the way, take Seema to Reverend Wentworth’s. Tell him I’ll see him later.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “And Thorpe,”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Two other things.” A frown crossed Lucas’ brow. “I’ve got to believe Sydney is going to make it through the strange sickness he’s come down with and accompany me back home. He was worse than this when I pulled him off the street two years ago.”

  “I’m with you on that score, for sure. And the whole crew, I’ll wager.”

  “The other thing. I haven’t told you, but the Spanish captain gave me some information about my parents.”

  Thorpe turned and stared at Lucas. “Can you believe him?”

  “That’s what I don’t know, but he says my mother could still be alive. And I’m trying to figure out exactly how and where I should go look for her.”

  “You know I’m with you every step of the way, Captain.”

  Warmed by Thorpe’s reply, Lucas added, “I’ll let you know when I’ve come up with a plan. But you know it will be dangerous.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Thorpe dumped his pipe against the railing, blew on it, placed it back in the fold of his shirt, and left.

  Travay made her way to the quarterdeck, and Lucas braced himself. He couldn’t help but admire the way she moved with such natural grace, even on the bobbing deck. Her bouffant skirts swayed in time to the ship’s rhythm, and her upswept hair glistened in the morning sunlight.

  “Good morning, Captain.” She stood beside him, her demeanor cordial. That and nothing more.

  So she was going to ignore what had happened. Fine. It was for the best. “Good morning.”

  He breathed in her sweet lilac scent and smiled. She had used the Castilian soap he had sent along, confiscated from his last Spanish ship conquest along with the dress she wore. The blue satin garment with its petticoat layers hugged her tiny waist as if it had been made for her, and her curls, though pinned, bounced about in the fresh sea breeze. One curl escaped to flutter about on her creamy neck. It begged him to touch it. Lucas had to look away.

  He leaned over the deck rail and pointed north. “Keep watching the horizon. In the next day or two, unless we hit a calm, we might see some of the outlying keys of Florida.”

  “Oh, my, are we truly getting close? Charles Town won’t be far then.” Travay tried to keep her gaze from the captain’s broad shoulders and his strong, tanned hands gripping the rail. She scanned the horizon and listened a moment to the recurring snap of the sails and the water capping against the hull. Was her heart beating faster because of the nearness of Charles Town or the nearness of the captain?

  She turned toward him, and his scent of the sea and leather pleased her. His white wide-sleeved shirt puffed about in the breeze under his rawhide baldric, and the thick dark plaits of his hair spread out over his shoulders. She turned away, remembering her new plan—cordial, just cordial, until they reached Charles Town and the end of whatever was going on between them. She would go on with her life, and he would go on with his pirating.

  “Should be docking in Charles Town in a few days, if this northwest wind continues and doesn’t turn angry.” Lucas wet his finger and held it up in the breeze.

  As he did, Travay saw the bend in the little finger on his right hand.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Memory crowded upon her.

  A boy and his indentured parents had come to live at the Charles Town plantation next to her father’s rice plantation when she was a child. She remembered the day she had met him fishing in the pond between the two estates. He showed her how to put a worm on a hook. That’s when she had noticed his bent little finger. She had asked him about it like any child would, and he had laughed and said it ran in his family. Now the story he had recently shared of his life fell, brick by brick, into place. And there was the color of his eyes—how had she missed that? She had never known anyone else with such distinctive green eyes.

  He must have noticed her staring at his hand. He moved it out of sight.

  She raised her brows. “Lucas Barrett, could it really be you?” Her voice trembled.

  Lucas sighed and looked down at his feet before raising his eyes once again to hers. “Yes, it’s me, Travay. I wondered when you’d recognize me.” His shining gaze locked onto hers for a wonderful moment.

  Standing beside the strong, attractive man, playmate of her childhood, Travay’s palms turned clammy, and shock raced across her belly. The new plan seemed an ocean away. Could this be a man she could trust after all, even though he was a pirate? He had certainly fought a life and death battle to save her from Byron Pitt. Heat rose in her cheeks as his kiss also came to mind. She pushed the memory away. She needed to know more about this man and what had occurred over the years since their youth.

  “You said your parents were captured by a Spanish ship and that’s why you ran away. But I seem to remember another incident about the time you disappeared.”

  Lucas scowled and leaned over the railing.

  “I never got a chance to apologize for what happened,” she continued. “It was my fault entirely for pushing you to saddle Sir Roger’s prize mare for me.”

  “I should have known better.”

  “But who could know the horse would miss the jump and break a leg?” She leaned to peer into his face. “And that Sir Roger would blame you? I am so sorry.”

  “It’s over. Long over. Let’s forget it.” He took a deep breath. “But if your apology is sincere, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “A favor?” She cocked her chin.

  Lucas gripped the rail in his strong hands. “No one on the ship knows my real name but Thorpe and Sinbad. Will you continue to call me Captain Bloodstone as long as we’re on board?”

  Travay stiffened. “Oh, yes. I almost forgot. You are a pirate, and you don’t want anyone knowing your real name. What are you doing? Living a double life, deceiving others in addition to piracy? She stamped her foot and glared at him. “You know, I was glad when you escaped from the Pooles’ indentured service. I knew what a rogue your master was, and now I’ve learned how much worse his son is. But how absolutely horrible that you’ve used your freedom to become a thieving, lawless pirate instead of a merchant.” She tossed her head and clamped her mouth shut.

  Lucas gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry you have such scorn for my occupation, Travay, which is privateer, not pirate. But may I remind you that if I had not been in that bay to rescue you, pirate that you believe I am, you’d be at the bottom of the Caribbean right now? As would your horse.”

  Travay glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. “I should have known you would bring that up, to remind me I should be forever in your debt.”

  A wave of heat rose from Lucas’ midriff and scalded his face. He didn’t care if he hurt her or not. “If you were not so spoiled, Travay Allston, you would be more appreciative of someone saving your life.”

  She sputtered, bristling with indignation. “Well, I refuse to be in debt to a thief, a liar, and a low-down pirate.” She turned to go.

  Lucas grabbed her elbow. What she really needed was turning over his knee, something she surely had missed growing up so stubborn and unthankful. Instead, he drew her into his arms so tight the air whooshed out of her lungs. She surrendered without a word, shocking him. Her breath feathered his chin. He looked at her soft, full lips, and she closed her eyes. He fought a terrible battle, then groaned and pushed her back. As he released his hold on her, her knees buckled. He caught her and looked into her stunned face, heard her labored breathing.

  I love you, Travay. I’ve always loved you.

  Her eyes swam with tears. “Let me go.” She ducked her chin, and a tear spilled down her cheek
. He flicked it away with his thumb and willed his heart to quit bruising his ribs. He made sure her legs no longer threatened to fold before he released her.

  “I don’t want you in my debt, Travay.”

  She jerked away from him and stumbled across the quarterdeck and down the steps.

  He slumped against the railing, willing sanity to settle back over his fire-blasted mind. Reverend Wentworth would be proud of him today, if not yesterday.

  Travay gasped for breath as she flew through the cabin door and fell onto the bunk. Thank heaven the room was empty. She turned over and crossed her hands over her heaving chest. She’d never been held like Lucas had held her. Why did she allow a pirate to take her into his arms? The conceit of the man. The shame of her response. And the ecstasy!

  Yes, she had wanted him to kiss her again. In his arms, she was filled with an amazing sense of completeness. But it was all a lie. It had to be. No pirate could have any place in her life. Not even one who had been a childhood friend or who called himself a privateer. Privateers, her father had told her, usually had a letter of marque from the king that permitted them to attack and plunder the ships of England’s enemies. But he also told her many of them attacked ships of any nationality that might carry treasure. Had her father not been killed in just such an attack as a passenger on an English ship attacked by Dutch privateers?

  She pressed her eyelids until the tears stopped. Her heated emotions wrestled with the memory of Lucas taking her into his arms so fast she lost her breath. But why didn’t he kiss her? He definitely intended to—she was sure of that. What had stopped him? How many other women had he kissed? She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. How many other women had shared this cabin with its pirate owner? Even Seema, perhaps? She had seen the way Seema looked at him when she thought no one would notice. And Lucas was, after all, a pirate, whether he called himself a privateer or not. What difference was there between the two?

  Travay sat up and looked around. As her confused emotions becalmed like trees after a hurricane, one fact remained clear in her mind. Never had she dreamed of such feelings as Lucas’ embrace aroused. Both heat and ice traveled through her veins. She needed to stop thinking about the childhood playmate she’d looked up to and tormented at every opportunity. He was gone forever, replaced by one who called himself Captain Bloodstone.

  Seema walked through the door and slouched down in a chair at the table. She tossed her thick black hair across one shoulder and pointed a finger at Travay. Her dark eyes shot daggers.

  “I saw the captain hold you in his arms, Miss Uppity. How could he not, when you threw yourself at him?” She smirked.

  Heat traveled up Travay’s cheeks, and then pride stepped in. “How dare you speak to me like that! I did not throw myself at him. But I’m sure whatever I do—or what the captain does, for that matter—is no concern of yours.”

  Seema’s lip curled. “He’s besotted with you, no doubt.”

  “I don’t care what he is. All I want is to get to Charles Town and off this ship as soon as possible. He’s nothing to me.” If that were true, why did her heart scream something different?

  “I don’t believe that any more than you do.” Seema’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the way you melted into his arms. You couldn’t resist him.”

  Travay stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I did not do that. He forced that embrace.” She busied herself picking up around the cabin, wishing Seema would slink back to wherever she’d come from. Instead, the girl stepped in front of her with her head thrown back and her full lips in a tight line.

  “I give you fair warning, milady. Make no plans for Captain Bloodstone. He’s taken.” Then she flounced out the cabin door.

  Travay sank onto the bunk. So Lucas was exactly what his line of work indicated—a womanizing pirate.

  She turned her face into the pillow and wept.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next night, Travay was thrown out of her bunk by the rocking ship. The keening sound of the wind and the heavy pounding of the waves against the hull alarmed her.

  Mama Penn burst into the cabin. Travay had not heard her leave. “They say one of them hur’canes is blowing up from the south waters and coming ’bout as quick as you kin say scat.”

  “What do we need to do?” Travay couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice.

  “You stay right here in this cabin, milady. Don’t even think about going out on that deck, no matter how bad it gits. I’se got to go down in the sick bay and tie down the sick men so they won’t be tossed to the floor.”

  “But can’t I help you?”

  Mama Penn eyed her and seemed to make up her mind. “I guess you’ll be about as safe there as here. Maybe more. And Sydney will be glad to see you if he’s awake.”

  “I’ve missed him. Thorpe told me the boy was sick but advised that I not visit because it might be contagious.” Travay grabbed up a shawl. “I would love to check on him.”

  As they left the cabin, Travay locked arms with Mama Penn, who clutched the railing with her hand. With her free arm, Travay tried to keep her billowing skirts from toppling them both as they made their way across the tossing deck and blowing rain to the lower-level hatch. As they stepped down into the sailors’ hold and then to the sick bay, the stench of sickness and unwashed bodies assailed Travay’s nose. Her stomach roiled.

  A small, forlorn figure in a makeshift bed in the corner drew Travay’s attention. Sydney. She walked over and looked down at him. He opened his eyes but couldn’t seem to focus, he was so sick.

  “He’s come down with a strange fever, milady.” Mama Penn laid her hand upon his forehead and shook her dark head tied up in a red scarf.

  Travay’s heart caught in her throat. She knelt down and took the boy’s hand in hers. Suddenly he turned to her.

  “Muther! I knew you’d come back. Why did you go ’way?”

  Travay’s gaze shot up to Mama Penn. The woman wiped away a tear.

  The boy tossed aside the dirty blanket and looked up at the rain-soaked boards above. “Please, Muther, won’t you sing our little song for me? I can almost hear it now.” The ship rolled in the storm, and Travay had to hold the thin body on the cot. He reached arms around her neck. She blinked away tears and began to hum a song her mother had taught her. Soon she began to sing the words to the lullaby, gently rocking the thin, hot body clinging to her. She closed her eyes.

  Mama Penn worked around the beds, tying the now quieted men to their bunks. Travay did not notice the towering, rain-soaked form that came to stand at the door to the sick bay.

  Lucas could scarcely believe what he saw. Travay knelt beside Sydney’s cot, rocking him in her arms and filling the foul-smelling room with the sweet sounds of an angel. All ears seemed to be tuned to the heavenly singing coming from Sydney’s corner.

  “Oh, Captain Bloodstone! I’se glad you’s come.” Mama Penn cast hurting eyes toward the two in the corner and then continued her work among the sailors’ cots.

  For a moment, Lucas couldn’t move. The sound of the storm raged above deck, and the ship tossed about under his helmsman’s steerage, but here was an island of peace. Not finding the women in the cabin had drawn him to the sick bay.

  Travay glanced at him but didn’t move. Tears coursed down her cheeks. A spasm coursed through the boy’s body, and she bowed her head to look down at him. Lucas rushed to her side. He knelt and gently unwound the thin arms from around her neck, then laid Sydney back on the cot. In death, the sweetest look of tranquility rested on the young face.

  Lucas’ heart crushed against his ribs and choked off his breath. He closed the eyelids over the unseeing eyes and rocked back on his heels, shaking his head.

  Groaning, Travay stumbled to her feet and ran across the room. Later, she didn’t even remember climbing the rain-swept steps of the sick bay to the upper deck. She barely recognized Seema standing at the top as if waiting for her.

  The heavy wind and rain whipped Seema’s clothing back and
forth. She reached out a hand to Travay as if to guide her, and Travay latched onto it. Then they battled their way across the deck, hanging on to the railing and trying to keep upright as the ship rolled with the waves.

  Suddenly, Seema wrenched her hand away and pushed Travay. That was all it took. Travay hit the deck and slid to the other side as the ship tossed in the strong wind.

  Her full skirts billowed and then soaked up the driving rain like a sponge. She grasped for something, anything to stop her slide across the tilting deck. A huge wave washed over the railing and left her sputtering for air. She knew she must find something to grasp or the wave would take her back with it. She found a thick black boot.

  Bounding up the steps, Lucas saw Seema push Travay. At that moment, he could have thrown the slave woman over the railing without regret, but he knew he had only moments to save Travay from being washed overboard. He reached her and stopped her roll on the deck by grabbing her flapping skirt while holding onto the nearest rail. When Travay wrapped her arms around his boot, he slowly bent, pulled her up from the deck, and clasped her to his side.

  “Put your arms around my waist, Travay, and lock your hands.” For once, she obeyed without hesitation. Her soaked skirts added great weight, and the blowing rain almost blinded them both, but Lucas half dragged her the length of the railing toward the cabin hatch. Once, they both fell to their knees. Finally, they reached the steps, and Lucas staggered down them, still holding Travay to him. He kicked the cabin door open and slammed it shut behind them.

  Travay loosened her grasp around his waist and sank onto the floor under the weight of her drenched skirts. With one hand, she pushed back the wet hair blinding her and looked up at Lucas. “Thank you for saving me.” Then her lips tightened. “Once again, I find myself indebted to you.” Her voice sounded rusty as a nail, and her eyes were cold.