A Kiss in the Wind (11 page)

“Plenty.” She descended on him like a plague. In spite of that, he wanted to cut off the arm Carrion draped around her. The idea bewildered him.

“I should apologize on behalf of Marisol,” Carrion said, “but then, better you be afflicted by her calamities than I.”

Marisol rolled her eyes and sloughed away from him, disappearing to the interior cabins through the forecastle hatch Drake’s mate, Valeryn, held open. Blade wanted to go after her. He imagined her settling herself in Carrion’s quarters, Carrion’s bed, to wait for her master. Marisol’s naked flesh against Carrion’s putrid body, the image summoned a rabid reaction. His fingers cramped from crushing the smooth handle of his flintlock.

He checked himself, keeping in mind that he had taken control of the
Sablewing. Clear your mind, man. She’s retrieving your cameo.
If she didn’t uphold her end of the bargain and return his cameo, he could tear the ship apart looking for it.

“You waste my time.” Carrion blew out a frustrated breath. “Your men will find nothing. Perhaps you should give chase to that mangy tyke getting away.”

“Should I?” The answer came as an impassive shrug.

Valeryn bent to Drake and whispered in his ear. He nodded. “He’s clear. No silver,” Drake said.

“As I have said, Tyburn. You waste time.”

“Aye, and yours will be up soon if you do not heed my warning. You would do well to not interfere in my business.” An empty warning. Carrion would do as he pleased regardless of the brotherhood. One day, he must be dealt with.

Drake moved to stand beside Blade, his back to Carrion. Lowering his voice, he spoke. “Our mystery ship is the same vessel that overtook the
Gloria.
”

Blade looked over to his friend. “How do you know?”

“I recognize it. The morning before the
Gloria
disappeared, I saw a vessel on the horizon traveling west. It looked like any other merchantman. But I remember a red flag. When I tried to focus on it, the flag was gone. Thought maybe I made a mistake. Now I’m sure. It’s one in the same.”

“Damn.” If he had known, well, he wouldn’t be standing around trading pleasantries like spars with Carrion.

At once, the hatch door crashed open and a man skittered backward to the deck. Marisol stepped through the threshold after him. “Lay a hand on me again and it’ll be your head I put my foot through.”

Carrion’s laughter resonated around the crowded deck. “That’s my lass.”

Blade had to agree and containing his smile was near impossible. Marisol smirked at him. She was a spitfire, all right.

He leaned over to Drake. “I suppose our quasi captain sheered off with the
Gloria,
as well.”

“Headed northeast.”

Just as expected. Monte took to the open seas.

“Should we put a bounty on him?” Drake asked.

“Let him go. There’ll be time for that. He may yet surprise me.” Blade redirected his attention to the impatient captain who had returned to glowering and stood with his arms across his bulk.

“I would thank you for your hospitality, but, well, swine are more cordial.”

“Preferable company to you,” Carrion retorted.

“Stop this childishness.” Marisol huffed and frowned at both captains. “Bloody men, always vying to best one another.” She shook her head as she crossed the deck to Blade.

Reaching for his hand, she pressed a familiar round object into his palm. Her eyes did not leave his and she smiled in tandem with his hiccupping heart, relieved with joy. His cameo, he knew it without looking. Ah, no more respite from his torturous condemnation. He was a beast meant to be collared and this small precious shell he squeezed tightly in his hand was his punisher.

“Forgive me.”

She had so much sadness weighing down her words. How could he not? He nodded once.

“What is this?” Carrion pointed a callused finger at their joined hands. “A bit friendly, I’d say.”

“No, Alain.” Worry creased her brow and she quickly dropped his hand. She moved to take up position beside her captain.

Alain? So that was Carrion’s real name. Coming from Marisol, it sounded so…personal.

“We’re not friendly,” she added.

“Not friendly? With Blade Tyburn? The debauchee of the Main?” Carrion’s nostrils flared with notable disdaining mistrust. “Is that so, Tyburn?”

“In all honesty, Carrion, we are not
friendly.
I can barely stand her.” The evil look she plastered on her face was laughable. He did well not to show his amusement. The line he walked couldn’t have been any thinner. Should Carrion detect deceit or insult, things could get nasty.

“That is good.” He cupped her chin to peer at her. “Otherwise I would feel compelled to kill you.” His voice dipped to affection. “You see, I will protect my sweet at all costs.”

To watch Carrion touch her, to hear him speak of her, it scored Blade, etching into his already weakened defenses. Damn it. How could she let that scab fondle her? An ache radiated from his jaw. He needed to stop grinding his teeth.

Marisol whacked away his hand, and her eyes flashed. “Just like you protected Luc?” She leaned into him and snarled. “Did you leave him behind to die on the gibbet like you left Monte, to save yourself?”

The force of Carrion’s backhand felled her on all fours. The clean sound of swords scraping across metal scabbards sliced through the remnant sound of his slap to her face. Men all over the ship, his, Drake’s and Carrion’s alike, pointed their weapons at one another in a tense and frantic bid for the advantage. Blade angled his own cutlass at Carrion.

“Coward,” she spat.

Carrion snatched at her hair, dragging her to her feet. She cried out and clawed at his fist tangled in a knot on her head.

Blade closed the gap between them, raising the tip of his sword under the rogue’s jaw. Carrion’s twisted grimace bearing down into him was known to send grown men cowering under their straw beds. But not Blade. Carrion could threaten him with his evil defiant stare all he wanted. There was nothing uglier than Blade’s own dreadful soul.

“I won’t say that the lass doesn’t deserve to be punished for her brassy mouth,” Blade said. “No doubt she must learn her place. But I won’t stand by and watch you slap your woman around.”

The fragile moment prickling over every tightly wound fighter on board shattered with booming laughter. Carrion shoved Marisol from his grip in a fit of mirth. She stumbled, falling at Blade’s feet. The crew of the
Sablewing
remained poised for battle but they, too, chuckled.

Had Blade missed some joke? What was so damned funny? He didn’t care to be laughed at. Not at all. Poking his blade higher, he pressed the tip into Carrion’s flesh. “Did I say something that amuses you?”

The captain stopped laughing.

Blade slipped his cameo into his pocket and held out his hand to help her stand.

“Marisol is not my woman,” Carrion announced.

A happy vine of surprise curled around his heart and bloomed at the knowledge that she didn’t belong to the pirate. The strange feeling startled him.

“She’s my daughter.”

The vine sprouted thorns. It pierced with astonishing force. Carrion’s daughter. It should have amused Blade as realization struck. All the signs had been there. She was a murderess, a thief, a lying witch—with a sinful body. Ah, a woman like her he could take pleasure with in a wicked game of “who’s on top.” Yet he was not amused. He was livid. She should have revealed to him her identity and not played him for a fool. But he was a fool, wasn’t he?

He lowered his cutlass from the
Sablewing
’s captain. All others followed suit, eyeing one another for any false moves.

When he met her gaze, she looked away.

“Daughter or not, it is no way to treat the chit,” he said.

“I’ll deal with her as I see fit, Tyburn. She’s of my blood and therefore mine to rectify her disrespect.”

“I won’t stand for a woman to suffer at the angry hands of a man.”

“It’s fine, Blade,” Marisol said. Her fingers brushed along her reddening cheek. “I was out of line.”

Carrion crossed his arms and tipped his chin. “It’s always unwise to meddle in family affairs.”

“You are in no position to threaten me.” He tried to read Marisol’s expression. Was that what she wanted? For Blade to leave her to her father? Leave well enough alone? Her downcast eyes said it all. He was done. Blade waved his weapon haphazardly around. “But alas, I’ve grown tiresome of this encounter.” He sheathed his sword. “We will be on our way.”

“I should say so. You’ve given the quarry a smashing lead. Tell you what, old friend, let us see who can recover your lost silver first, eh?”

“You just don’t know when you’re beat, huh,
friend?
You won’t get far with the damage your ship sustained. You’ll be lucky to make it back to port.”

“A useless opinion.”

Blade shook his head at the captain’s arrogance and glanced at Marisol. Her one shot at rejoining with her brother had come and gone in a few fleeting hours. Perched at the knees of her captain, right back to where she started days ago. He could walk away right at that moment and leave her on the
Sablewing
with her father to continue her life of vagrant piracy, wiping his hands clean of her. Be worry free of missing valuables and hurling knives. Or he could whisk her away with him, for, well, a more noble life of piracy. At least until Santo Domingo. There she could reunite with her brother and be happy, if the bastard actually sailed to the port like he was told to do.

He could help her with that—happiness. Of course that would be for his own selfish gain. Certainly she would be so grateful that he saved her from the cruel clutches of her father that she would want to thank him, properly.

“I have a proposition for you, Carrion.”

“Oh?”

“The
Rissa
used a good bit of shot saving your sorry arse. As payment, I require Marisol.”

She looked stunned, no doubt by his generosity. The sweet filly. She really should close her mouth. ’Twas not attractive.

Carrion grunted. “Why would I do this?”

“Your other option is
Rissa
and
Widow Maker
finishing you and the
Sablewing
off with a round of double shot.”

“Extreme measures just for a strum with my daughter.”

“I have plenty of less ungovernable doxies to occupy my time with.”

The ice in her piercing angry stare should have cooled the hot midday sun.

“What use would you have of her, then?”

“The lass is exceptional at pick-pocketing. I should think her an entertaining advantage in port. I could use a gallows bird like her on my crew. Once she ceases to be a profitable bawd, I’ll toss her back.”

Carrion rubbed his chin, an obvious ruse at contemplation. No one bargained with Carrion. His pride swelled too large for that. The man had already made up his mind. Blade had him right where he wanted him.

“Your answer, Carrion.”

“Done.”

“What?” Marisol sputtered, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Alain, why would you do this to me?”

“My ship, for you? I’d say I made off like a thief.”

No. It was Blade who made off with the thief.

“Don’t raise your voice to me.” Blade pulled her inside the companionway away from the working crew. “I doubt Carrion let your tongue wag under his command. I won’t have you doing it here.”

“Carrion.” Marisol had been unaware of her father’s brethren name. Disgusted by the sound of it, she spat, landing her mark directly on Blade’s boot. Blade lifted his eyebrows, not at all pleased with her aim. “To hell with Carrion,” she said, for good measure.

She reached her limit. The edges of her control began to crumble away. She’d dug herself in too deep this time. All she wanted was to have her brothers together again. A family sailing the ocean blue in search of adventure and riches. Fanciful? Perhaps. But something to dream of at night after she lay her head down.

As usual, she tangled things up, plunged herself into another bungle. This time it became clear Alain no longer planned to bail her out. She’d been problematic, at best. If not for her, Alain would not have gone after the
Gloria.
The
Sablewing
would not have been damaged. And she would not have been traded off to a pirate captain she knew damn well and good she couldn’t trust herself around.

It hurt. Deep inside, she hoped that Alain loved her more, at least more than his actions showed. Hadn’t she proved to him her loyalty? Hadn’t she worked on an even keel with the rest of the crew, expecting nothing but fair treatment in return? Hadn’t her escapades helped pad his strongbox with riches? What more could she have done?

The truth was hard to swallow. To expect to earn his love had been foolish. He showed so little of it with her mother and she wasn’t certain he was even capable of the emotion. She assumed that there had to be some fiber of affection within him since he occasionally visited her mama. For what other reason would he go to her if not out of love? His visits made Mama happy. His visits made them all happy.

But this wasn’t about Alain.

She gave Blade a hostile glare. “How dare you demand me of him?”

“I’m a pirate, love. It’s what we do.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her head. “We take what we want.” His smoldering green eyes darkened as he bent his head. He had her pinned with absolute craving. She couldn’t be sure if it was his desire or hers that kept her fixed in place. His lips loitered so close. “Especially if what we want holds some advantage.”

His musky scent mingled with a hint of sulfur from the earlier gun battle, a deadly mixture sure to break her. She inhaled deep and slow, breathing in as much as she could of him. “You want me?”

“Aye.”

The word fell like heavy velvet, warm and thick.
Curse it! I’m going down.
She lifted her mouth to meet his.

Blade pushed off the wall, away from her. “You may come in handy when I need my rum brought to me. Henri don’t get about as easily as he used to.”

“What?” Shock followed closely by humiliation soon became colored by anger. The bastard meant to turn her into a cabin boy.

“You can wipe that look of reprisal from your face, Marisol.” He reached up with both hands and grabbed hold of the door frame above him. His relaxed posture filled the entire hatch. “What else would I have you do?”

He challenged her. Oh no. She wouldn’t take the bait. Davy Jones would have her soul before she’d admit hoping for a warmer, cozier position on his
Rissa.

“You could put me back on Alain’s ship.”

“No. That wouldn’t do.”

“For who? You?”

“That’s right. For me.” He wore smug well. It infuriated her.

“Do you require my company in your bedchamber again?” There. Switch what went unsaid around and toss it back into his lap.

“Require? No. But I wouldn’t turn you away should you seek
my
company.”

Ooh.
She clenched her fists and willed her rigid arms to not take a swing at him. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“By your moans as I pleasured you last night, I’d say that you’d like it, too.”

“Wretch.”

“Hypocrite.”

She considered plugging him with her gulley knife for being right. Or, at the very least, slapping him across his conceited mug. His arresting dimples kept her from it. She struggled to not become distracted by his beautiful smile, not to become ensnared in his magnificent charm.
He wants to make you his personal valet. Remember that. Walk away, Marisol. Walk away.

Tearing her eyes from him before she did something foolish, she headed for her cabin. His low laugh reached her when she came to her door.

“I can’t figure you out,” he said.

She turned to him as he closed the distance. The corridor suddenly became too narrow to accommodate them both. No telling what she would do to him in the uncomfortably confined proximity.

“You do things without thinking of consequence,” he said. “You seek instant gratification.”

“Don’t we all?” she asked. “You said it yourself. You take what you want, when you want it.”

“Aye.” He leaned his back against the wall, the space still too cramped for her liking. “But my mates and I take advantage of opportunity. We’re not greedy, bloodthirsty hellions like our earlier brethren. A little planning gets you much more than whimsy. Spares the innocent, too.” His eyes grazed over her. “You’re quite careless.”

“It sounds as if you think you
do
have me figured out.” She crossed her arms in protest.

“Not at all. You rectify yourself and your actions as an afterthought. You either are indeed manipulative or plain lucky to have managed this far in this dangerous line of work. My guess is that you’ve your brothers to thank.”

The idea made him chuckle, something she didn’t quite appreciate.

“What I don’t understand,” he continued, “is how someone as strong-willed and skilled in weaponry as you can be so…vulnerable. One instant you are battling tooth and claw for control, the next you gladly relinquish it and, forgive me for saying so, to someone who cares more for his rotten ship than his own daughter.”

“Is that what you thought you were doing? Saving me? How chivalrous of you.” Her petulance sounded harsh even to her own ears. Yet Blade was right on target. She could stand defiant against the most infernal cutthroat, and then submit to Alain with the snap of his sullied finger. The verity of it stung.

Why did the men in her life feel they needed to shelter her? ’Twas true, her brothers taught her how to defend herself and fight well. ’Twas equally true they coddled her. Though that made her madder than hell, she couldn’t help but feel a pinch of contentment that they cared enough to shield her from what they considered too hazardous. Sometimes she felt they deliberately withheld things from her so she would always be in need of them. Now, more than ever, with the events of the last several days, she believed it to be true. “You need to be thinking of saving yourself, Blade.”

His warm laugh echoed in the tight space. “I can take care of myself, I assure you.”

“Alain will not tolerate being dishonored by you.”

He tilted his head and studied her like an oddity. One corner of his lip twitched. “You worry for me?”

“No.” She answered too quickly. The other corner of his lips twitched. She looked away. In truth, she worried far more than she should.

Alain had been known to inflict torture on people. He had at times receded into a place far from sanity, drunk on the agonizing screams of his victims. He terrified even his most hardened crew. The first time she witnessed his cruelty, he’d bound a prisoner to the mast and cut him open, bleeding him to death. He collected every last drop of the blood into a bucket and held another prisoner’s head down into it until he drowned. Alain thought then, that after seeing his savagery, Marisol would beg to be returned home. She almost had. She’d become so sickened by the deaths, she hadn’t recovered for several days.

She had questioned her will for independence. There had been no freedom remaining home. A woman had little hope to achieve much more than becoming a prostitute, or worse, a wife to a husband who lived by the sea, coming home once every couple of years to make another babe. Just like her mother. Marisol did not want that for herself. She wanted more. She wanted to see what lay beyond the shores of Cow Island, to experience the colorful life of a seaman, to feel the rewards of hard work. And one day, along with her brothers, she wanted to have a ship and crew to call her own. She expected the dangers of the life she longed for. A short courageous life held far more appeal to her than a long, lonely, monotonous one. But beholding such unspeakable violence by her father’s hand nearly cracked her.

Luc and Monte had been there. Luc sat with her all night, rocking her and giving her comfort. Monte paced the room like a caged animal. Her dear Luc had opened her eyes to the truth of survival on the seas. Insubordination could not be tolerated, he had said. It literally meant the difference between life and death. Those captives had planned a mutiny against Alain and would have killed them, too, for being kin. And, Monte had added, the mutineers would have had their way brutally with her before they finished her off. She remembered the spark of liveliness in Monte’s wild eyes, sparing her no detail.

Her brothers had been right. Understanding these dangers dulled her fragility. If she were to stay, if she truly wanted the seaman’s life, she had to toughen up. It was their reality.

It wasn’t frequent that Alain became crazy carrying out atrocious suffering, but it happened often enough. If death was the order, in her mind, then death should come clean and quick.

Somehow, she couldn’t bear the thought of Blade and Alain…

“He will come and get me.” She let out a breathy sigh. “Even if it’s not me he’s after.” Her whisper left her mouth quiet and defeated.

“I count on it.”

She glanced up at him.

“You see, Carrion is careless, too,” he said. “He challenged me for the silver. ’Tis only a matter of time before we cross paths again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have the advantage, dove.”

She frowned, still not getting his meaning. What would she have to do with any part of his mission?

“You can go back to your father after I get that silver to Charles Windham, if you’d like. ’Til then, have my rum handy.”

“I’ll not be your…”

He shook his head and turned to leave.

“Hey. Don’t you walk away. Blade?”

Hands on either side of the hatch door, he paused. The sunlight filtered through, illuminating his golden hair and highlighting all of his masculine lines. He turned his eyes on her. The brightness diluted their color and she quaked at how intense his stare had become.

“You will dine with me tonight.” He looked back outside, distant, distracted. “Aye,” he said, as if agreeing with himself. “I’ll have Henri bring you a dress. Practical clothes are nice, but I want to see you in something that suits me.” Stepping through the door, he disappeared into the sunlight.

Marisol stood alone in the companionway that no longer felt small. It felt empty. Despite the humid, still air, she shivered in the darkness with the chill left in his absence.

Her shoulders slumped and she went inside her cabin, plunking down onto the bed she’d slept on the night before. She needed to sort out the day.

All morning Blade had been aloof, not once giving away that she had shared his bed. She was left without the benefit of even a smile. Then he’d been angry with her about Alain. She’d given him back his cameo. He got what he wanted and was free of her. What else could he want? Certainly not her. He wouldn’t even kiss her in the companionway.

She lay back and rested her head on the impossibly soft pillow.

Many emotions showered her—anger, guilt, apprehension, sadness, resignation, exhaustion. And what of her family? Alain bartered her away, Monte disappeared again and Luc was dead. She choked back a sob and rolled over, curling up into a ball. How would she manage to get herself out of this one? How would she make things right?

She opened her eyes at the sound of a knock. Her body ached from lying askew and it took a moment to get orientated. She had fallen asleep. For how long, she did not know.

“Lass?” Henri called from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” She arched her stiff back and sat up.

Henri ambled in with a deep golden gown draped over his stubby arms. He tried with much difficulty to keep it from dragging across the planks. She rushed over to help the old man.

“Oh, it’s heavy.” She lifted it from him and let the dress unfold. The fabric rustled to the floor in layered satin. She gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”

The triangular stomacher matched the petticoat, their cream-colored arabesque design stunning against the darker gold of the gown. She had never seen a more beautiful dress. The dresses Luc would bring her from raiding forays were indeed pretty, but she rarely had occasion to wear one. She couldn’t very well work her shipboard duties layered in skirts and so she had asked Luc to bring her more useful gifts, like weapons.

The dress she held gleamed in the light; the patterns surely had been sewn by meticulous hands meant for a woman of nobility, someone worthy of flaunting its feminine beauty. And Blade wanted her to wear it.

“I can’t imagine why Tyburn would have a dress like this. It’s so lovely.”

Henri shoved a pair of matching mules at her. “He keeps a supply of ’em on hand. Likes to please his lady friends in port.”

She frowned and a pang of jealousy slipped. “Does he, now?” She snatched the pointy shoes from him. “And I suppose he has a lady in every port.”

“Nearly.”

“Of course he does.” Why wouldn’t he? The infamous libertine probably had
two
girls in every port along the Main. Ugh. She shouldn’t care and it burned her hide that she did. Knowing what pleasures he brought with his warm touch and how he made her feel like the world had been created for only them, she didn’t want to think of Blade making love to another. She didn’t dare.

“Capt’n says for ye to come to his quarters when ye be done.”

“Humph.” She’d just as soon stay in her own cabin than go back
there,
to the same room, with his candlesticks, with his bed.