A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (19 page)

“Hannah, Hannah,” Kane whispered.

She woke and blinked
. The blindfold was gone. She winced at the blaring sun. She sat in Kane’s lap and realized he was sitting on a large boulder in the midst of a lush jungle and the roaring of the water had stopped. Through the foliage, she spotted the ocean and a white sandy beach. He gently sat her down and steadied her. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Her cheeks heated.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Hannah,” her father ordered.
“Time to go.”

Ignoring her father,
Kane tilted his head. “Follow the coastline toward the sun. At the fort, soldiers will take you into Saint Kitts.”

Amadi handed her father a knapsack.
“Cook prepared leftovers for you.”

“You need to share, Captain,” Kane scowled.

“Like I would not,” her father glared. “Come on Hannah, let’s get the hell out of here while we still can.” Swinging his arms like a pendulum, he marched through the jungle toward the beach.

She scanned Kane
, William’s and Amadi’s faces for the slightest change, but found none. Swallowing the pleas welling up inside her, she blinked back tears. Keeping her voice free of emotion, she muttered, “Um, I guess this is good-bye.”

Amadi bowed.
“Aye, good-bye, poppet. Take care.” He turned and disappeared into the thick jungle.

William bowed.
“Remember. Get out of Saint Kitts. The
Fiery Damsel’s
hunting you.” He glanced at Kane and followed Amadi’s path into the jungle.

Kane slipped his hands around her waist, his fingers locking behind her, pulling her against him, pinning her against his rock
-hard body. His mouth captured hers, deepening the kiss, sweeping away her fears on a wave of fire, dragging her into a forbidden world. She broke off the kiss. Why keep longing for what she couldn’t have?

“Why didn
’t just drop me off the ship? Why come at all?”

He smiled and brushed his thum
b down her lips. “For one, you never would have found your way through the jungle. And two, I wanted be with you a little longer. You’re so beautiful.” Releasing her, he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. “Go before I do something that we’ll both regret again.”

She nodded, but couldn
’t answer him. He regretted what he’d done last night? She felt anything but regret.        

Bowing to her, he stood
and grinned. “
Slán agat.
Health be with you.”

With that, he
disappeared into the jungle. She debated following them, but he’d only bring her back here. Coldness gripped her and she wanted to drop on the ground and cry, but she was too stunned to cry. He was gone as quickly as he had entered her life.

Her heart shattering into a million pieces,
Hannah stared at the jungle where Kane had disappeared. She was alone.

Squaring her shoulders,
Hannah headed down the path her father had gone. She placed her hand on her thigh and clutched the familiar outline of the dagger. Kane might not want her, but she’d not remain her father’s puppet. When her father discovered she was no longer of use to him, he’d throw her in a convent to repent. She had to escape.

Her father sat on a large rock, watching the ocean, waiting for her. Rubbing his chin, he said, “They’re gone?”

She hesitated.
“Yes.”

He
walked over and towered over her. “Hannah, my dear, I find myself in a quandary. According to your blasted
pirate
friends, the
Fiery Damsel
is hunting us. I know you don’t believe me, but Jacques D’Aubigne will keep you safe.

Even if he knew I slept with another man?
Doubtful. Very doubtful.

“
I’ve thought long and hard about this,” her father rambled. “His Majesty has a small fleet of ships protecting Saint Kitts and I’ll ask your Uncle to send them out to blast the
Fiery Damsel
to Davey Jones’ locker.”

“Father, no!
The Royal Navy can’t defeat them. You’ll be sending them to their deaths. That will be murder!”

He pinc
hed her cheek. “Nonsense, they’re vampires. Our ships will attack them during the day. It will be easy.”

“Father, these vampires don
’t sleep in the daytime.”

Her father waved his hand at her.
“Bah!”

“Father, listen to me.”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her down the beach. “I’ll hear nothing more of it, Hannah. The only thing that matters is your safety. You can’t trust those blasted pirates. They’re full of lies.”

“No, they’
re not!” She struggled to get lose, but his grip tightened. She stared at a rock on the beach, drawing on her power, and flicked her hand. The rock flew across the air, smacking her father’s right shin.

“Ow,” he cried.
He released her and hopped on one foot.

“Father, listen.
You can’t send the British to kill them. All those sailors will die.”

He
limped toward her. “Hannah, you’re trying my patience.”

She ran down the beach,
the wet sand clutching her boots.

“Hannah,
come back here!”

She gritted her teeth.
Her father wasn’t fooling her. He was scared, damn scared. She wasn’t going to let him lead those sailors to a slaughter.

“Hannah,
will you listen to me?”

“No.” She called over her shoulder.

Riding in the carriage from the wharf, Hannah peered out the window at the white, rose and yellow buildings and framed houses. Men loitered outside a tavern and women entered and exited the shops along the street. But what caught her eye were the ships docked in the harbor—tall sleek schooners, short fat transports, two-mast framed brigs. One of them had to be willing to take her to England, away from this place.

The carriage rounded the corner of the business district of hotels,
inns and a brothel. Beyond the busy town, a huge white mansion with pink-colored trim and shutters was protected by a tall thick white wall loomed in the distance. The mansion had to be the Governor’s. They stopped at an iron gate and two footmen opened it. Palm trees circled the home like skinny brown soldiers with green hair. Flowering bushes covered the grounds. A white marble dolphin fountain spurted out water onto lily pads floating in the water.

The carriage stopped.
A solider opened the door for them. She gripped his outstretched hand as she stepped out. “Thank you.”

H
er father barged past them, marched up the stairs and pounded on the door. “Open up!”

A gray
-haired butler opened the door and frowned. “Yes, wha…”

Her father pushed pas
sed him like he was the King of England.

Darting in front of her father, the butler declared.
“Excuse me, you can’t just burst in.”

“I most certainly can. I
am
Justin Knight, the Governor’s brother, and this is my daughter, Hannah. I demand to see my brother at once.”

The butler cocked his eyebrow, but bowed slightly and disappeared, mumbling under his breath.
A minute later, her uncle, Governor Michael Knight, ran into the foyer. His gray wig was lopsided and sweat glistened upon his chubby cheeks. His blue and white justaucorps with gold buttons strained as he rushed over to her father.  “Oh my God, Justin! What happened?”

“We we
re held prisoner aboard the
Soaring Phoenix
.”

“Father,”
Hannah scowled.

Her uncle
grabbed her father and hugged him. “You’re safe, dear brother!”

“Yes, yes, I’
m fine.” Her father maneuvered out of his brother’s arms.

When he
r uncle glanced at Hannah, he slapped his cheek. “My word child! What are you wearing? You look dreadful!”

“
The captain made her wear that,” her father said.

“Father,”
Hannah said.

Her father gave her a warning look, but she
shrugged.

“Uncle, I choose to wear these,” she said.

“Well, my dear, you can’t be seen wearing those here in Saint Kitts,” her uncle said. “It would be scandalous.” Her uncle clapped his hands and a large black woman appeared. “Mary, order a bath for my brother and take this poor child and fix her up.”

He turned to the forgotten solider.
“Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir.”

“Send for Captain Keats at once and notify Jacques D’Aubigne that his fiancé
e has arrived.”

She grimaced
. Fiancée? She clutched the emerald in her pocket.
Not for long.

“Dis way miss,” Mary said.

Hannah
followed Mary up the curved wooden stairway and down a long red carpet lining the hallway. Tapestries of English battles hung from the walls along with paintings of past Governors, one of them her beloved grandfather. He’d have let her choose her own destiny. But her father never agreed with him. Said he was too fanciful.  

Hannah
entered her room and gasped.  A violet quilt embroidered with gold thread and gold tassels covered a mahogany four-poster bed taking up half the room. A matching mahogany French bureau and dresser sat across from the bed. An unlit brick fireplace sat empty, north of the bed. Ashes dusted the bottom of the chimney. French doors opened onto a balcony, letting in the rays of the sun filtering through the foliage of a nearby tree.

“’ere, is your bath, miss
.”

“I can bath
e myself,” Hannah insisted.

“But miss
,” Mary said.

“No
.” Hannah shooed the maid away.

Within minutes, Hannah bathed and dressed in a simple
yellow gown. The white bodice, girdled high underneath her breasts fell loosely onto the floor in wide folds. The sleeves buttoned tightly extended far below her hands. She missed Kane’s loose shirts and pants. The dagger was secured against her thigh again.

Hannah
rushed down the hall. She’d not allow her father to convince his brother to send out ships to pursue the
Fiery Damsel
. Her uncle had to listen to her. He was sending the sailors to their deaths. Uncle Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs next to a man with black curly hair and cold blue sapphire eyes. She skidded to a stop. The man exhibited voluminously wide petticoat breeches, pleated with loops of red ribbons around his waist and at the knee. His red waistcoat matched the ribbons and his short flared burgundy shirt fell below his narrow hips. The coat sleeves fit close below his elbows, and he wore a burgundy linen cravat around his neck. An impressive sword belt hung around his hips.

Here was a
nother dandy who spared no expense in his clothing and obviously desired the finest material, not like Kane, who wore a simple shirt and breeches. 

H
er uncle brushed his hand over the man like he was a show piece. “
Monsieur
Jacques D’Aubigne, may I introduce my niece, Hannah Knight.”

Hannah gritted her teeth.
Could things get any worse?

Jacques bowed.
“
Mademoiselle.
”

Playing the dutiful fiancée, Hannah curtsied.
“
Monsieur
.”

Jacques
offered his hand and she stared at it. Her hand shaking, she took it and he rubbed his thumb over her palm and she tensed. His hand was too smooth, too small compared to Kane’s large callous one. How could a grown man have such small hands?

“You’
re quite beautiful,
Mademoiselle
, even with your hair still damp and too much sun on your face.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“Here, you won’t have to worry about being in the sun too long. You’ll have the comfort of my house to keep your skin white.”

Her stomach churned.
She didn’t want to be a mistress of a house, overseeing servants and worrying about her complexion. She wanted to be free aboard the
Soaring Phoenix
.

He squeezed her hand
and leaned his head closer. “
Ma chere
. I’m so glad you’ve been found. I was so worried about you.
Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?
Are you well,
Mademoiselle
?”

He smelled of overripe oranges. She
longed for the scent of musky sandalwood. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Jacques led
her into a sitting room and deposited her onto a plush velvet couch and released her hand slowly. He stood too close and Hannah put her finger under her nose to block out the bushel of oranges from smothering her.

She turned to her father.
“What have you told him?”

Her father squirmed on the sofa.
“Nothing yet.” 

“
Mademoiselle
, I’ve been awaiting your arrival and was distressed at your disappearance.” He picked up a lock of her hair.     

She frown
ed and jerked away. What the hell was he doing? 

He
shrugged. “What’s it that you think I should know? The name of this buccaneer who held you captive, perhaps?”

She
scoffed. “No, Kane didn’t hold us captive. He rescued us.”

“He held us captive
,” her father insisted.

“
No, he didn’t. He rescued us.” She glared, but her father’s knotted eyebrows and tight mouth left little doubt he would not change his story.

“I’m talking about Quinton Palmer, the Captain of the
Fiery Damsel
. Have you heard of him?”

“
Oui, Pourquoi
? He’s a shameless pirate.”

“Everyone knows of the
Fiery Damsel
,” Uncle Michael said. “Is he the one who sunk your ship and kept you captive?”

Her father nodded.
“Palmer sunk our ship, but Captain Kane O’Brien held us captive.”

“He did
not
hold us captive, he
rescued
us,” she persisted, clenching her fists. “You know that.”  

“Hannah,
” her father warned.

Jacques turned to her father.
“
Le Capitaine
Kane O’Brien rescued you?”

“Do you know him?” Hannah asked.

“
Oui
, I know him.” His eyes narrowed. “We have tangled before.” Jacques held Hannah’s gaze and he lowered his voice, “You did tell him you were betrothed, didn’t you?”

Hannah blinked. “I…”

“Of course, we did,” her father sputtered.
He mopped his red face with a handkerchief, which matched his stretched pink-colored knee length breeches.

“
S’il vous plait, Monsieur
, I meant for the
mademoiselle
to answer.”

Her heart pounding, she shifted in her chair and her hand
clutched the dagger’s handle underneath her dress. She tilted her chin. “Enough about Kane.”

His cheek twitched
. “You referred to
Le Capitaine
by his first name,
mademoiselle
?”

This
wasn’t going well and she sank deeper into the sofa. Desperate to change the subject, she blurted, “Did you know
monsieur
the crew of the
Fiery Damsel
becomes vampires and kills all who they encounter?”