A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (22 page)

“
Oui vous ferez
! I think you’re sadly mistaken,
Mademoiselle
.” Jacques gave her uncle a cold stare. “Governor, I suggest you talk to your niece about our arrangement regarding the Emerald Sea and the
Sorcière de Mer
.” He spun on his heels and marched towards his waiting carriage.

She broke away from her uncle and put her hands on her hips
. “What arrangement?”

Her unc
le stared straight ahead, his expression devoid of emotion. “You’re bleeding. Let’s get you inside and patched up my dear.” He put his hand on her lower back to guide her back inside.

She
blocked his path. “Uncle Michael, what agreement? What are the Emerald Sea and the
Sorcière de Mer
?”

“
The
Sorcière de Mer
is Jacques’ plantation.”

“And the Emerald Sea?”

He linked his arm through hers. “Come on my dear.”

She stood her ground
. “Uncle, what’s the Emerald Sea?”

“
I think your father should have told you,” he mumbled.

He sighed and walked over to a
red rose bush and sniffed.

‘Uncle.”

“The Emerald Sea is your father’s sugar plantation.”

She blinked.
“My father has a sugar plantation?”

“Yes,” he straightened.
“’Tis next to Jacques’.”

“So, that
’s why father wants me to marry?”

“Yes, I’
m afraid so. Jacques has the richest soil, but your father has the most land. Combined the plantations would be worth a fortune. Jacques is a very determined man and wants both you and the Emerald Sea. Your father gambled and lost. Instead of demanding money, Jacques wants the Emerald Sea. Your father offered you, since he would still have control over the plantation and receive some profit. ”

She stared at her uncle, not seeing him. His words cut deep into her soul. Her own living parent betrayed her to keep his precious land. She meant nothing to him. A pawn to be played to fulfill his own desires.
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Where’s my father?”

Putting his hands behind his back, her uncle paced back and forth.
“Hannah, I’m not sure, but I’ll see he talks to you about it tonight at dinner.”

She clenched her fists and stormed away.

“Hannah, wait!”

“Enough.”
She left him.

Up in her room, she collapsed onto the bed.
Her scratches and cut hurt. But not as much as her heart. Damn her father. He gambled and lost. All of his preaching was nothing more than a ploy to justify his behavior, to cast scorn on others, to hide his own sins.

After dinner, Hannah followed her father into the parlor and sat on the
Provincial
couch. He poured himself a glass of brandy and the smell of apricots filled the room. He sat across from her in a chair and twirled his glass.

She forced herself to be demure and play the dutiful daughter
to entice her father into telling her about the agreement. “So?” she asked.

Her father took a sip of his brandy.
“Your uncle stocks the best brandy in all of Saint Kitts. Reminds me of London.”

“Father, tell me about the agreement.”

“Now, Hannah, you didn’t like any of the men I tried to persuade you to marry in London. They were all good matches.”

“If you like foppish
sops.”

“They were not sops.
They all came from good families and would have treated you well.”

“I
wasn’t in love with any of them.”

“Your sisters…”

“My sisters were in love with their matches. Your matchmaking worked for them.”

He licked his lips.
“If you’d have given them half a chance…”

“Then I would not be forced to marry Jacques…”

He put his glass down. “’Tis awfully hot in here. I’ll open a window.”

Hannah cocked her eyebrow.
Father never did manual work. He always ordered servants to do his bidding, but he unlocked the window and opened it. Cool air rushed into the room. He turned and smiled. “Now, isn’t this nice?”

She folded her arms across her chest.
“Father, why are you bringing up these past matches?”

He grabbed his glass, meandered over to the cabinet and poured himself another brandy.
He kept his back to her. “Jacques isn’t a floppy sop as you call them.”

She snorted.
“No, he’s a brute.”

He turned.
“You’ve a strong will Hannah and need a man who you can respect.”

“You’
ve got to earn respect father. He’s only earned my contempt.”

Her father sat in his chair again.
He mopped his red face with a handkerchief. “I’m still hot. Must be the brandy.”  He stopped mopping his face and sighed. “Hannah, I know I don’t show it, but I do care for you, girl. I want what’s best for you.”

She
clenched her fists in her lap. “Marrying Jacques is what’s best for me?”

“Well, I didn
’t mean for this to happen. I was trying to provide a better life for you. I should have known. Your uncle warned me, but my head was spinning and I couldn’t focus very well.” He gave her a small smile. “I’d drunk too much rum, my dear.” He frowned. “Nasty stuff. The devil’s brew. But I think Jacques knew this. ’Tis why I no longer drink rum.” He downed his brandy. “The man’s a clever bastard.”

Her father
mopped his red face again and stared at the carpet, avoiding her scrutiny. She lowered her voice, “What did you do?”

“Because of
a gambling debt,” he mumbled. “I’m forced to deal with Jacques.”

“
And?”

“
Not just you. My sugar plantation, the Emerald Sea. You’re a casualty.”

“
I’m a what? A casualty?”

“
If you’d married one of those other gentlemen, I would not be forced to have you marry Jacques.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My gambling
’s gotten worse, Hannah. I’ve tried to stop. ’Tis part of the reason, why I came here, to escape my debtors. I’m sorry. If you marry Jacques, I still retain some of the profits. If you don’t, he gets the plantation and I go to a debtor’s prison.”

The blood drained from her face.
She took quiet breaths. Her nails dug into the couch cushion. She tried to piece together what her father had done. He was her only living parent and he loved her in his own way. She didn’t want to lose his love, but this was too much to ask. “So, you’re sacrificing me to a monster so you can keep your plantation.”

He frowned.
“Jacques isn’t a monster.” He gulped more of his brandy, spilling some down his jowls. “He’s a very desirable man and considered the catch of Saint Kitts.”

She snorted.
“Why would any sane woman want to be married to Jacques? He was a slave trader.”

He refilled his glass
with more bandy and swirled his glass. “You don’t have a choice daughter.”

She tilted her chin.
“I won’t marry him, father.”

“Yes, you will.
” His eyes glossy and his cheeks ruby, he drained his glass and slammed it on the end table. “You need a husband. Both your sisters are married. They didn’t give me any trouble with their marriages.”

“They loved their husbands.
My brother in-laws don’t torture slaves nor do they threaten or beat my sisters.” The power slowly pumped her and her hands trembled, tingling. This time, she didn’t care. She wanted to hurt her father like he hurt her. Fathers were supposed to protect their daughters, not sell them into slavery. 

“His plantation, the
Sorcière de Mer
, is very profitable.” He refilled his glass again. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You’ll want for nothing.” He took a sip from the glass.

All he cared about was his plantation
, his damn brandy and the money. “You think I care about that?” She lost control and flicked her wrist. The glass flew out of her father’s hand, spilling gold liquid onto his shirt and smashed into the wall. Gold liquid splattered onto the wall. Shards of crystal crashed onto the floor.

“You unruly hellion
!”

Hannah flinched.
She jumped from the chair and darted toward the door, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her father grabbed her wrist and slapped her face. She cried out. Pain exploded across her cheek.

He raised his hand, clenching his fist. “How dare you!”

She focused on his fist, waiting for more pain. Why did she push the limits again? Her voice choked. “Please father.”

He lowered his hand
and grabbed her shoulders and shook her, rattling her teeth. “You won’t use your power down here. Do you hear me?”

“Father, I—
”

“Do you want to be burned as a witch?”

She blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head
and his hands slowly released her. “These people are a suspicious lot and would not accept this behavior.”

Like him.
He’d never accepted her behavior. He’d condemned her from the beginning. Besides her grandmother, only Kane had accepted her. He didn’t recoil from her. Or did he? Is this why he left her here? A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away. “How can you leave me here, Father? Do you hate me this much?”

“Don
’t be a fool.” He walked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ve no choice in the matter.”

She blurted, “I want to see it.”

He frowned. “See what?”

“I want to see the Emerald Plantation.”

“Why?”

She lifted her chin and clenched her fists.
“I want to see what I’m worth.”

He cocked his eyebrow and opened his mouth, but shut it.
Turning his back on her, he opened the door. “I’ll take you tomorrow.” He left her alone in the cold room, left her to think about her bleak future married to a cruel man whom she could never love. 

In the early morning hours, Hannah sat next to her father in the carriage, clutching her fingers tightly in her lap and peering out the window. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since last night. What was there to say? He’d betrayed her. She’d her trusty dagger strapped to her thigh as always, her hand caressed it. She needed to rely on herself. Kane believed in her. Now she needed to believe in herself.

The carriage passed a peeling brown
-painted church with a cracked steeple bell. An old bent preacher bent with age swept dirt off the lopsided steps. Drunken patrons wobbled from a brothel across the street to gaming houses, shouting obscenities. The carriage slowed through the crowded street at the Lighthouse Tavern. She wanted to jump out of the carriage and race inside, demanding someone take her away from this place. But now wasn’t the time. 

The carriage slowed.
The same man, wearing the crowned hat, sat on a dapple-gray horse. The hat shadowed his face, but when he tipped his hat, the sun hit his left cheek. There was a white jagged scar. She sucked in her breath and dug her fingers into the folds of her dress. Her heart pounded. Kane?

Hannah
wanted to rip off the man’s hat. She called on her power, tingles raced through her. The man kicked the side of the horse and galloped down the dusty street. A carriage passed between them, hiding her view of the man momentarily. She waved her hand. The man turned the corner and the horse’s tail flicked. The hat sailed through the air and landed in a water trough. The man and horse were gone.

She slammed her fist in her lap.
“Damn!”

Her father demanded. “What?”

She glanced at him. “Nothing.”

Had it been Kane?
Or was it her imagination? The man had a scar. But was it Kane? Had he come to rescue her? Where was he going? How she longed to feel his hands and lips on her again, whispering into her that he’d never let her go.

“Hannah, sit back down,” her father urged.

She
peered out the carriage window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kane, but only passed seas of sugar canes and other carriages. 

T
he driver pulled into the courtyard of a white mansion with six columns. Sentinels of palm trees surrounded the large plantation home. Green birds chirped and hopped along the yellow and orange flowers bushes blooming next to the porch. The carriage stopped and a groomsman opened the door. She took his hand and descended from the carriage. Her heart sank at the empty road. No dapple-gray horse. No Kane. No rescue.

“Hannah,” her father said.

She turned and followed him up the wooden steps.
Two gold cherub sculptures, bearing harps, hung over the oak door as if to sing when anyone entered. Only her father would demand such a herald.

The door whipped opened.
Her father’s former boatswain, John Boswell, strolled out, the same powerful man she remembered, but older. His thick blond hair was streaked with gray and he still wore it tied back in the same slick tail. He’d the same golden hue skin and the same mossy green eyes now framed by deep wrinkles. John Boswell had spanked her more than once for using her powers. Same man. She hid her trembling hands in the folds of her dress.    

“Ahoy, Captain.” Boswell grinned. He cast his gaze over her and she shrank.

“Why
Hannah, I’ve not seen you since you were knee high.” He pointed to her swollen cheek. “Still getting into trouble I see.”

Ignoring his gruffness, she curtsied. “Hello, Mr. Boswell.”

“Well, Mr. Boswell, my daughter wants a tour
of the Emerald Sea,” her father gestured as if to present the king’s palace.

“Um, this might not be a good idea t’day, Captain.” He nodded towards her.
“One of the slaves attempted to run away last night, and someone’s going to make an example of him.”

“Oh. I see.”
Her father lowered his head and kicked his right heel into the ground. “Hannah, I think we should come back tomorrow.”

She frowned.
“Why? What’s happening? You said I could see the plantation. What do you mean someone’s going to make an example of him?” 

“He means
,
mademoiselle
, just what he says,” a smooth voice said behind her.

Hannah
bristled. Jacques. This time, he dressed in all blue, matching her mood. He removed his wide-brimmed blue and white hat, bowing to her, his eyes never leaving her face. His cloying cologne turned her empty stomach. Did the man bathe in it? Subtle wasn’t a quality Jacques possessed.

“Hannah,” Jacques studied her.
“What happened to your beautiful face?”

“She and I had a disagreement,” her father said.

“Since she’s to be my wife, I’ll decide on whether or not there will be any disagreements.”

Hannah
cringed.

Her father bowed.
“As you will.”

Jacques
took a step toward Hannah. “Since
Mademoiselle’s
going to be mistress of a plantation, she needs to see what we do with runaway slaves, no?”

Her father blocked his path. “
Jacques, I don’t agree.”

Hannah hid behind her father.
For once, her father protected her. Maybe he was having second thoughts?

“
Capitaine
Knight, ’tis imperative she sees how things are done. There’re reasons my plantation’s one of the richest in Saint Kitts.” He pointed his walking stick at her father. “Your slaves have become a bit lax and need to be taught a lesson.
Comprenez-vous, Capitaine
?”