A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (23 page)

Boswell elbowed her father in the ribs.
Her father grimaced. “I can’t do anything about this John. He’s right. The slaves need to be taught a lesson.”

Boswell gritted his teeth.
“Aye, I agree. But must Hannah witness this? She’s trouble. Things might go amiss.”

Hannah glared, but kept her mouth shut.
Same old Boswell.

A horse trotted
by, Hannah whirled around, but her shoulders slumped. ’Twas a fat man riding a black horse.

“Do you think I like this any better than you?”

Hannah turned at her father’s shaking voice. “What’s—”

“Come
with me.” Jacques grabbed her arm and led her around the mansion.

She shuddered and gritted her teeth, “Jacques, let go of me.
”

“No, you must see how we make examples of runaway slaves.”

The blood drained from her face.

Jacques
dragged her down a soft, smooth gravel path where seas of sugar canes grew on either side. Then the path changed. Sharp rocks and prickly stickers jammed into her ankles. She grimaced and pushed on Jacques’ hand, but ’twas like tearing off a manacle.

“Here we are,” Jacques said
.

Gray splintered shacks lined a small weedy clearing
. Barefoot adult male and female slaves in tattered clothing stood in a semi-circle in front of two tall pine beams, placed several feet apart. Black chains and shackles dangled from each beam. Chopped logs had been piled between the charred beams. The male slaves stared straight ahead. Tears streamed down the faces of the female slaves and the children clung to their mothers’ legs, hiding their faces in their skirts.

Her heart thumped,
she glanced at her father. Will the nightmare not end? She wanted to wake and be back on the
Soaring Phoenix
.

“Masta, masta, pleas
e.” A female slave wearing an eye patch threw herself at Jacques’s feet. “Please don’t burn him, please don’t burn him.”

Jacques kicked her in the stomach.
“Get away from me.”

“Jacques,” Hannah jerked her arm
, trying to pull away from him. “Leave her alone.”

“She’
s a slave and needs to know her place,” he said.

The sobbing woman
wrapped her arms around her shins and rocked. Hannah wanted to draw her into her arms and comfort her. “Will you release me?”

“No.”
 

“Release me,” she insisted
and slapped Jacque’s hand. “Let go of me. You’re hurting me.”

“I’m sorry.”
He released her arm, but wrapped his arm around her waist, imprisoning her next to his body.

She pressed her hands down on his arm.
“Jacques, let go of me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’
re right, you are not. Now, as a wife of a plantation owner, you must never let the slaves think you’re not in control, or they’ll rise up against you and murder you in your bed.” He leaned close to her ear, his hot breath brushed her neck and she grimaced. “I’ll show you how to keep this from happening again,” he whispered.

He lifted his head.
“Monsieur Dubois.”

A giant
white man cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. “Bring him out.”

Out of a faded gray shack,
two muscular white men dragged out a shirtless black male slave. The slave was taller than both men, but his shackles kept his strides short, almost shuffling. His torn breeches revealed his muscular calves and scarred back.

“No, no,” the slave said.
His wide eyes focused on the two wooden posts, and he dug his heels into the ground, flying dust up.

“Come on, Simone,”
Dubois said. “You brought this on yourself.”

Hannah cringed.
This couldn’t be happening. “What are you doing?”

“I told you.
He’s to be punished.” Jacques tightened his grip. “To be an example.”

Simone jerked on his chains, but the men yanked and Simone fell to his knees.
Sweat and blood covered his chest. He’d a cut lip and one swollen eye. He peered at Jacques. “No, Masta, masta. I promise I’ll na rise against you again, I promise. I would ne’er hurt you. I promise. Please Masta, please Masta, don’t burn me.”

H
annah blinked. Chills ran down her back. Burning? Civilized people didn’t burn each other alive. She dug her nails into Jacques’s arm. “Jacques, you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I’
m
chere
. Simone here tried to start an uprising while on the run. As my wife, you’d be a perfect target.”

Perspiration trickled down her chest.
“Jacques, please don’t do this.”

She glanced at her father.
“Father, please.” But her father avoided her gaze and cleared his throat.

“You’ll watch,” Jacques promised, his hand clutched her neck, his fingers digging into her flesh, forcing her to look straight ahead. “Dubois, Simone needs a lesson first.”

The two men chained Simone to the stakes
, his arms stretched wide over his head. Dubois cracked his whip, and it sizzled through the air. It split across Simone’s back. Each time, a lash hit him, the slave released a torturous cry. His knees collapsed and the chains stretched his convulsing body. Hannah wiggled, but Jacques only tightened his grip. “Stop this madness, Jacques.”

“No,
chere
,” he countered. 

Fine, then she would.
She stared at the whip and pulled on her power. Dubois raised his hand. She flicked her finger. The whip flew out of Dubois’s hand and landed at her father’s feet. Her father said nothing.

“What are you doing Dubois?” Jacques demanded.

Dubois scrambled to get his whip. He examined it closely. “I’ve never done that before, I don’t know what happened.”

Simone hung
his head on his chest. Blood trickled down his back and his chest heaved.  Hannah licked her lips. “Jacques, Simone has paid his debt. Release him.” 

“
His crime deserves death,” he said. “Dubois, proceed.”

The same two burly men poured oil, strong and pungent, onto the pyre of wood.

“Masta, please,” the woman
, wearing an eye-patch, begged.

“Shut up or you’
re next,” Jacques warned.

The woman
lowered her head and sobbed into her hands. Her powerlessness tore through Hannah. She had to help her. 

“You may light it, Dubois,” Jacques said.

A man
lit the pyre of wood. Simone threw his head back. “Gawd, have mercy!” Simone yelled and stomped the wood with his bare feet. 

Flames licked the logs.
Hannah stared at the fire, drawing on her power, and a spark exploded. A flame burst through the air, aiming towards Hannah and Jacques.

Heat warmed Hannah’s back.
“
Merde
,” Jacques cried as he released her. “My arm, my arm!”

Hannah
whirled around. Jacques hit the flames eating his shirt. She bit back a smile. The bastard deserved it.

She held up her palms and faced Simone.
The fire sizzled and rose, swirling smoke blocked out his face. Heat warmed her face and sweat poured down her forehead. She ignored Simone’s screams and drew on her power. Flames licked at Simone’s calves, devouring him like a hungry monster. He howled. Hannah’s eyes watered. She coughed and sputtered at burnt flesh, tasting it on her lips. Her stomach knotted and she wanted to vomit, but she concentrated on Simone’s chains. The links twisted around twice. Simone yanked and broke free. Hannah choked with relief.

Simone rolled on the ground, the dirt dampening the yellow and orange blaze on his legs.
A man cried, “He’s free! Grab him!”

“Dubois,” Jacques growled.

Dubois grabbed a jug.

“No,”
Hannah screamed.

But she was too late.
Dubois poured oil onto Simone and he burst into flames. The agony of his screams tore through the clearing.

“No,” she cried and sank to her knees.

Kane stepped out of the sugarcan
e field. Hannah had tried to save the poor man. Her strength never failed to please Kane. Her shoulders shook and she hung her head. He wanted to run down there and pull her into his arms, erase the new terror haunting her. Damn D’Aubigne.

Michael
hurried next to him. “What the hell are you going to do?” He grabbed his arm. “You’ve got to stay here.”

“I’ve had enough.” Kane raised his pistol.

“Aye,” Sean agreed. “Kill the man.”

Hannah
would not see a man slowly burn alive. The slave howled and run around the dirt courtyard like a headless chicken. Burnt flesh assailed Kane’s nostrils, his eyes water. He aimed at the shrieking man, following him as he ran. Children’s cries and women’s sobs turned his stomach. What the hell was wrong with Jacques? And William accused Kane of being a monster.

The slave stopped running and swayed.
Kane fired. Blood sprayed the stark ground.

“
Mon Dieu
,” Jacques yelled.

“Over there,” a man pointed.
“’Tis three men.”

Hannah whirled around.
“Kane!”

“O’Brien
,” Jacques snarled. “Get him, you fools.”

Jacques’ men
sprinted towards them, drew out their pistols and fired. Smoke and pellets whizzed past Kane. Sean and Michael pulled out their pistols and returned fire. Billowing smoke filled the courtyard. More men, firing pistols and waving swords, rushed down from the house like angry wasps. 

Hannah
stood. Jacques reached for her, but she jerked away from him and stumbled. She grabbed her skirt, hitched it to her knees, and raced towards Kane.

“Come back here,” Jacques yelled.

“Hannah, no,” her father cried.

Biting her lip and eagerness in her eyes, Hannah rushed towards Kane. 

Kane’s heart pounded.
What was the lassie doing? She could be killed.

Jacques ran after Hannah.
His men fired again, hitting Kane in the shoulder. He gritted his teeth, against the pain gripping him.

“No,” she cried.
“Stop.”

Jacques gained on her and raised his fist.

“Hannah!” Kane sucked in his breath. Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he aimed his pistol at Jacques, but Hannah blocked his shot. “Move, lass!”

Jacques seized Hannah’s hair and his fist slammed into her temple.
She crumbled to the ground.

Kane roared
and rushed towards her. Michael and Sean each grabbed his arm. His right shoulder screamed with pain.

“Capt’n,” Michael yelled.
“We’ve got to go now.”

“Hannah, she’
s hurt.” Kane struggled to break free. ’Twas his fault she was hurt. He should have kidnapped her, her father be damned. “Let me go. That’s an order.”

“Sorry, Capt’n.
We can’t help her. Now isn’t the time,” Sean said. He and Michael tightened their grip and dragged him into the sugarcane field. The stalks towered over them. Long cane leaves whipped his face and blocked his view of Hannah, Jacques and his men.

Angry voices got closer.

“Burn
the field,” Jacques ordered.

“Jacques, you fool,” Hannah’s father said.

“No one takes what
’s mine,” Jacques snapped.

His? Hannah would never be Jacques’.

Heat broke out around him and smoke clouded Kane’s eyes. Each time, he took a step, his heart pumped hard, pain thumping into his shoulder. Sean and Michael led him through the field, the fire chasing them. His men waited for them on the other side. If Jacques’ men followed, they’d discover an ugly surprise.

Jacques had one more coming.
A vampire would visit him, repaying the same kindness he’d done to Hannah.

Hannah
woke to the sun shining down in her bedroom and a pounding headache. Her shift stuck to her body. She moved and a splitting pain shot through the back of her head.

“You’ve got a nasty bump on
da back of your head,” Bertha said.

Hannah peered at her.
“What happened?”

Bertha frowned.
“Da masta. He hit you, knocking you out.”

“Which master?”

“Masta Jacques.”

Hannah edged up to
sit, gritting her teeth as pain throbbed in the back of her head. The bastard. Next time she saw Jacques, she’d hit him over the head with an anchor. “How did I get here?”

“Your father brought you
back. Masta D’Aubigne came with him, too. He carried you to your room. Gawd, was he angry about da man who killed Simone. Simone was to be an example.”

Hannah gritted her teeth.
She’d make Jacques an example. He was a barbarian. She’d rather be thrown in the stockade than marry him.

Heart pounding, she
grabbed the quilt and flicked it over to the side. She had to find Kane. Hannah stood. “Bertha, the man who shot Simone, where’s he? What happened to him?”

Hannah swayed on her feet
and put her hand on her sweating forehead. Bertha grabbed Hannah’s arm, her hands trembling, and maneuvered her back on to the bed. “No, miss, you must stay in bed. Da doctor came and said you must rest. He said you’d be fine in a couple of days. Please, miss. Your pa said you had to stay here.”

Hannah studied her.
“Did my father hurt you?”

“No,” Bertha shook her head.
“But Masta Jacques he says I’s supposed to watch over you.”

Hannah grabbed Bertha’s
trembling arm. “What happened to Kane?”

“I don’t know.
Masta says they can’t find him. They’re hunting him.”

Hannah dropped her hand.
“He got away?”

“Yes, miss.
Do you know him?”

She smiled.
“Yes, I do.” Kane had followed her to Jacques’ plantation. It must mean something. She ached to feel his lips on hers again, to feel his kisses along her skin to have his arms wrapped around her, calming her fears. Where was he? Was the
Soaring Phoenix
hunting the
Fiery Damsel
?

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall.
“Hannah, are you awake?”

She grimaced. Just what she wanted.

The door whipped open.
Bertha scurried from the room.

Her father
swept in and put his hands on his hips. “You freed Simone, didn’t you?”

She tilted her
chin. “Yes, I did. Someone had to.”

He folded his arms across his chest
. “You better not be in an alliance with that pirate.” His scowl promising he was about to tie her to the stakes for a harsh lesson.

“How could I be? I’ve not seen him since I have come to this island.”

“
People are asking questions.” His eyebrows drawn together, he paced back and forth. “You’ve got to be careful.”

“What people?”

He ran his shaking hand through his hair. “Jacques for one. He can’t figure out how this happened. He’s so damn angry.”

“Then
you should not be forcing me to marry him.”

He
shook her. “’Tis too late for that.”

Pain shot through the back of her head. She whispered, “Father, please.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He slowly released her, his hands slid down her arms.

He
sank into the bedside chair and put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. “Jacques is obsessed, Hannah. I fear I can’t control him. He accuses me of betraying him, suspects you of plotting to run away with O’Brien and insists the engagement be moved up.”

“Wha
t do you mean, move up the engagement?”

He sighed
and lifted his head. “To show our good faith, we’ll be hosting a ball tomorrow night where we’ll announce your engagement.”

“No!”

He glanced at her. “You don’t have a choice nor do I.”

“What do you mean you don
’t have a choice?”

He patted her leg and bit his lip.
“Hannah, if you don’t marry him, he’ll seize the Emerald Sea.”

“
And you’ll be handed over to your debtors?”

“Yes. T
he Emerald Sea is what’s been supporting us. Without it, I’ll be forced to sell our assets and we’ll end up in a debtor’s prison. Do you want this?”

Hannah gripped her fists.
“Either way, I’m being forced to pay for your sin.”

“I’
m sorry, daughter, but with Jacques, you’ll want for nothing.”

She scoff
ed. “You keep saying this.”

He reached over and she flinched, waiting for him to hurt her
. Instead, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “If there was another way, Hannah, I’d save you from this.”

“Father, Kane could help us.”

He dropped his hand. “Hannah, he’s a wanted man. A pirate. Even if you left with him, Jacques would pursue you. Do you want to send the
Soaring Phoenix
to a watery grave and her crew hanging from the gallows?”

“You’
re assuming Kane would lose.”

He snatched her hand and squeezed.
“Jacques is a deadly opponent. His ally
is
the
Fiery Damsel
.”

Hannah sucked in her breath. “You mean?”

“Kane would have to face two opponents. Do you think he could survive this?”

Hannah swallowed.
The
Fiery Damsel
had almost sunk the
Soaring Phoenix
in Tortuga. Could Kane defeat two ships?

Her father gave her hand one more squeeze.
“I am sorry, Hannah.”

A singl
e tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry, too.”

The ball arrived too soon and the hours ticked by too quickly. Madame Blanc delivered a burgundy gown with a straight neckline, puffy sleeves, and a tight bodice that hugged Hannah’s trim figure. She tried to smile. “You’re truly talented,
Madame
.”

“Thank you,
Mademoiselle
. Oh by the way, your fiancé ordered your wedding gown. I should have it ready for you by the end of next week. Could you come by to be fitted?”

Hannah
answered in a sweet voice, hiding the volcano brewing inside her. “Yes, that will be fine.” 

She wanted to run away and find Kane. But if she did, Jacques would have her father thrown in jail. How could she do this? True, he deserved to be punished, but she couldn’t live with herself for sending him there.

S
oldiers reported to her uncle about their progress in hunting for Kane. Thankfully, they’d been unsuccessful. Had Kane retreated to the cove and left? Cowardice wasn’t one of his characteristics. What was he up to? He’d have ordered his men to stay aboard his ship out of harms away.

He needed to get away from here and forget about her.
He’d need all of his skill to defeat the
Fiery Damsel
. But how could he if Jacques was in league with them? Jacques swore he wasn’t a vampire. What if he lied?

After Madame Blanc left, servants hauled in a large copper tub and filled it with hot steaming water and lavender. Bertha burst into the room and shooed the servants away. She held a velvet box in her hand. “Mistress, this was sent from Masta Jacques.”

Hannah
bristled. She didn’t want any gifts from the man, but what choice did she have? She opened it. A ruby pendant and matching earrings glittered in the light.

“Masta be taken with
you to send these over to you,” Bertha said.

“Yes, they
’re beautiful,” Hannah answered. So, did he think this made up for what he did to Simone? Or was he buying her?

I
f she wore the rubies, was she giving in? Being another one of those women who put up with men as long as they bought them pretty trinkets? Not the life she wanted. But maybe, along with the emeralds, the rubies would come in handy.

Within minutes, Hannah finished her bath. Bertha picked out a corset and handed it to her. Hannah shook her head. “I’m not wearing that.”

Bertha held
a corset in her hand. “Mistress, you need to wear a corset.”

Hannah
tilted her chin. “No, means no.”

Bertha clicked her tongue
, but put the corset away. She helped Hannah slip into the burgundy gown and pulled her hair into a coiffure. Hannah would rather wear it loose since Kane preferred it loose, but in this too she gave in. Kane was gone and she needed to focus on surviving this without him.

Bertha clasped the ruby necklace around her neck
and Hannah stared at her preened reflection. She was the image of any woman of society, a society she didn’t want. She’d be mistress of Jacques’ plantation, expected to run it the way he wanted it and be forced to endure the man’s touch. Her freedom slipped away and a noose tightened around her neck.

“
Oh, Mistress, you look beautiful,” Bertha said. 

Hannah
feigned a smile. “Thank you, Bertha. I appreciate it.”

Berth
a curtsied. “You welcome, Mistress.”

Someone
rapped at the door. Hannah cringed. Time’s up. Bertha opened the door and Mary entered. “Your fiancé is here, Mistress. He’s waitin’ for you below.”

Hannah
nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute. Bertha, would you excuse me for a minute?”

“Yasum, Mi
stress.” Bertha shut the door quietly.

Hannah
retrieved the dagger from underneath the mattress, stuck it in her garter and patted her thigh. She might be forced to marry Jacques, but she’d be damned if she’d play the part of a battered wife. He’d get more than he bargained.

At the foot of the stairs, Jacques stood d
ressed in the latest male fashions—a black waistcoat with pearl buttons, a silk white ruffled shirt and snug black breeches. She wasn’t impressed. His pretty package masked the devil within.

She forced a tight smile on her lips.
When he extended his hand, she reluctantly clasped it. He kissed her wrist and her stomach revolted. How was she going to get through this? 

He
took a step back and his eyes flashed over her. “
Ma chere, tu es très jolie
!”

“
Merci
, Monsieur,” she murmured. She clutched the folds of her dress to keep from slapping him. Did he think he was buying her? Was she worth his precious coin?

He
stuck her arm through his and escorted her to the ballroom where he introduced her to the dignitaries. Her interests piqued when he introduced her to a gray-haired admiral with a thick mustache and oversized belly. “Admiral Parkington,” she asked, “have you heard from Captain Keats? Any reports?”

Admiral Parkington shook his head.
“No, I’ve not.” He slapped one heavy thigh. “I was unable to sail with my men because of this cursed knee. Sometimes I cannot even stand on it in the morning due to an old battle injury. Based here, because the king didn’t think there would be much action or maybe he sent me into exile. One can never tell.”

He turned to a thin blond
e girl, dressed in a rose lacey taffeta gown with a very low neckline, and a heavy set blonde woman wearing a green silk gown one size too small. “Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Emily, and my wife, Mrs. Helen Parkington.”

“
’Tis nice to meet you both,” Hannah said.

Jacques bowed. “Hannah, may I have this dance?”  Before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and whisked her out onto the dance floor. He crushed her to him and she gasped for air, but only inhaled his noxious perfume. Her stomach swirled. Maybe she’d not have to feign being ill.

“
Hannah, you’re exquisite.”

“
Jacques, you’re holding me too close.”

“You’
re trembling,
ma chere
,” he said. “Soon you’ll beg for my touch.”

She’
d rather be hanged than have him caress her skin.

After the waltz, he returned her to the admiral.
She sighed with relief and broke free of Jacques’s firm hands. He scowled, but changed his expression and smiled demurely. “Ladies, would you like some refreshments?”

Both Emily and Mrs.
Parkington nodded but Hannah declined. He bowed, “If you’ll excuse me.” He clasped Hannah’s hand, bent and kissed her wrist. She yanked her hand away and wiped her wet wrist on her gown. Her other hand moved over the dagger under her dress. She wanted to fling the dagger into his broad back.