Abandoned Memories (23 page)

The ship teetered over an incoming wave, creaking and groaning. While the rest of them stumbled to keep their balance, the captain stood, arms crossed over the trinkets shining on his waistcoat, like a statue of some Greek god demanding worship.

“I am Captain Ricu, and I take what I want when I want.” Eyes as dark and hot as coals measured each one of them like a judge deciding a prisoner’s fate. He rubbed the handle of a pistol stuffed in his belt, and James wondered if the captain was trying to decide who to shoot first. He knew they had nothing to bargain with. Pirates were notorious torturers, and James was sure Patrick or Dodd would sing like birds at the mere threat of such measures. He was also sure the captain knew that as well.

“Captain, we will gladly share our knowledge of these maps as long as you promise not to harm any of us and release Angeline and Hayden,” James put forth.

For once Patrick didn’t protest. Though it may have had something to do with the blade jabbing his back.

The creak and moan of timbers marked the unbearable passage of time as the mad pirate considered James’s proposal. Or perhaps he was merely deciding the most painful way to kill them all. Golden sunlight cast an amber halo around Ricu’s dark curls. Plucking a handkerchief from his desk, he wiped his face and neck, his gaze assessing each one of them in turn. Finally, he grinned and waved the cloth through the air. “I agree. You”—he pointed toward Patrick—“tell us how to read maps.” He gestured for his man to lower his blade.

Patrick released a breath. “And what do I get in return?”

Ricu gave an incredulous huff. “Your lives.”

“We accept,” Blake and James said in unison.

Standing knee deep in water, James extended both arms toward Angeline. “May I?”

She knew he intended to carry her from the small boat, but just the thought of being held in those powerful arms, nestled beside that powerful chest, sent warning bells off in her heart. It was bad enough James had rescued her once again—along with the others—but then the man had gone and stripped to his bare chest in an effort to preserve her modesty. No man had ever wanted to preserve her modesty. Quite the opposite, in fact.

She nodded her assent. But as she feared, the way he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a cat, the feel of his muscles encasing her in steel, his masculine scent, and the look of protection and care in his bronze eyes threatened to break down all the barriers she’d so carefully erected between them. Thankfully, once he put her down on the sand, Eliza and Magnolia dashed toward her, flinging their arms around her and asking how she fared. After ensuring them she was well, both ladies flew into their husbands’ arms. As the pirates rowed back out to the ship, Dodd and Patrick slogged off, grumbling under their breath.

“I’m all right, Princess.” Hayden pushed his overzealous wife back. “Not a mark on me, see?”

“We are all safe, for now.” Blake smiled at his wife, who quickly slipped from his arms and eased beside Angeline. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Eliza brushed hair from Angeline’s face, her gaze suddenly dropping to James’s shirt. Fear laced her eyes. “Oh, you poor dear. Come with me.” She swung an arm around her and started off when Angeline stopped her.

“He never touched me.” She faced her friends.

“But your…your bodice…” James said.

“He ripped it, yes, but only to make his men believe he had ravished me.”

“I don’t understand.” Blake’s dark brows bent.

“I can’t say that I completely do either.” Angeline leaned onto Eliza, suddenly feeling weak. “He fully intended…”—her voice muddled as if the fear of her predicament suddenly struck her—“intended to…”

Eliza squeezed her close.

Angeline drew a breath. “But the man has a weakness.”

“Aye, he has barnacles for brains.” Hayden snorted.

“Better than that. A lady.” Angeline smiled. “Crazy as it sounds, Captain Ricu loves a real lady. And he wants to change his ways so she’ll love him back.”

Looks of shock assailed her, followed by declarations of disbelief.

“It’s true. It’s why he didn’t touch me. It’s why I believe he won’t allow his men to harm the rest of the women either. They fear him. With good reason.” She trembled as memories of his many attempts to ravish her saturated her thoughts. “I convinced him his lady would be abhorred at such a thing.”

“You placated him for one night,” Hayden said. “I don’t trust him. Men like him rarely change.”

“You changed.” Magnolia smiled at her husband.

Without warning, Stowy leapt into Angeline’s arms and began burrowing beneath her chin, bringing levity to the somber topic and a speck of joy to Angeline’s heart. She kissed the cat on the forehead and stroked his fur as purring filled the air.

“Seems you were missed,” Eliza said.

“By more than the cat.” The tone of James’s voice chipped away at her heart. But she couldn’t allow it.

“I agree with Hayden,” she said. “I was spared, we were all spared this time. But I have no faith this man’s love or desire or whatever it is he harbors toward this woman will placate his passions forever.”

“Indeed. He’s as volatile as a rusty cannon.” Blake shifted weight off his bad leg. “We must find a way to escape, to sneak back to Rio. Perhaps the emperor would allow us to move to another location.”

“But we haven’t paid a single
réis
for this one.” James shook his head and squinted toward the rising sun.

Blake flattened his lips. “I’m not admitting defeat. Not yet. We can still start a colony elsewhere.” Nods of affirmation spread among Angeline’s friends. But she didn’t join them. How could she? Though her heart seemed ready to crack in a million pieces, she still intended to part ways with these beloved people. She had no choice. Extricating herself from Eliza’s calming embrace, she gave an excuse of exhaustion and walked away, ignoring their offers of help, ignoring the look of love in James’s eyes, and ignoring the tears that now spilled down her cheeks.

HAPTER
20

A
ngeline finished the final chorus of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and sat down in between Eliza and Blake on one side and Sarah and Lydia on the other. She could hardly believe it was Christmas Day. Dates seemed of little consequence here in Brazil, especially with all the tragedies of late. And with the sun blaring overhead, it certainly didn’t feel like Christmas, neither in temperature nor in temperament, for no one was very cheerful. Yet when James insisted they hold a service, they’d all banded together to haul logs and stumps and a few chairs salvaged from the flood to form pews in their thatched-roof church.

With the crash of waves thundering behind him, James rose to stand before the crowd, open Bible in hand. His gaze landed on something behind Angeline, and his slight flinch caused her to glance over her shoulder at the two pirates sitting in the back. She’d seen them come up during the singing but assumed they’d leave when the sermon began. Yet, there they sat, arms crossed over their colorful waistcoats, scarves blowing in the wind, pistols and blades sticking out everywhere like bloodthirsty porcupines, and looking like attending church was a normal occurrence. In fact, the past two weeks of living among pirates had proven much easier than everyone had anticipated. Though they drank too much and their leering gazes caused some of the ladies to squirm, they kept mostly to themselves. Angeline was sure it was because the fear of their captain was stronger than their passing passions.

James’s voice brought her gaze around as he began to recite a passage from scripture. Wind tossed strands of his wheat-colored hair in a chaotic dance that made him look like a little boy at play. No, not a boy at all. He was all man. Every six-foot brawny inch of him. Not to mention all the manly qualities stuffed within that handsome frame: courage, selflessness, determination, honesty, integrity…and the way he looked at her like she was worthy. Just like he was doing now.

She loved him.

If
a woman like her could love a man. If the burning in her belly whenever he was near was love. If her desire for his happiness above all else was love.

James glanced over the assembly as he began his sermon. Something about Jesus and a woman at a well. An odd take on the Christmas story, but regardless, Angeline found herself mesmerized by the deep tenor of his voice, the way the sun angled over his shoulder and kissed the tips of his hair blowing in the breeze, how his bronze eyes flamed with passion while he spoke. Why hadn’t she attended church more often? If only for the opportunity to gaze at him without anyone thinking her forward. Even Thiago had made an appearance today and seemed enthralled with the message as he sat on the other side of Sarah.

Angeline smiled at little Lydia asleep in her mother’s arms then glanced at Eliza’s rounded belly on her other side. What would it be like to carry the child of the man she loved? The thought shamelessly brought her gaze back to James. Despair threatened to send her running from the crowd, but instead she lowered her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap. She could entertain no hope of such joy as long as Dodd threatened her. Thankfully, the annoying rodent had been too busy searching for gold with the pirates to bother with her. It had been a nice reprieve, but she knew it wouldn’t last. Whether they found gold or not. Whether the pirates stayed or left, Dodd was not the type of man to give up what he considered a worthy prize.

Which is why she must leave as soon as possible. Before her feelings for James grew to the point of shattering her heart. Before Dodd blurted out the truth and exposed her shame to everyone. She couldn’t bear the rejection, the shock, the looks of disdain from people she’d grown to love. As if sensing Angeline’s angst, Eliza gave her a tender smile and placed a hand over hers, bringing tears to Angeline’s eyes. She gazed out to sea.

“She was a prostitute, a woman who’d had five husbands and was living with a man out of wedlock.” James’s voice sharpened in her ears. “Yet Jesus traveled a day’s journey out of His way just to speak to her, just to tell her God loved her.” He took up a pace before them, eyeing them each in turn. “To tell her to stop drawing from a broken well that did not satisfy, but to receive the living water He offered.” His eyes latched upon Angeline’s. “Then she would never thirst again.”

The light in those eyes seemed different somehow. Brighter, dazzling even. And they seemed to pierce her very soul. Forcing back the mist in her own eyes, she lowered her gaze to the sand by her shoes. Yet, his words kept repeating in her mind. Jesus traveled a day’s journey out of His way for a prostitute. To tell her God loved her. Could the same be true for Angeline? She began to tremble. But if God loved her, why had He allowed so much heartache? Why had He allowed her to become what she’d become?

A fire crackled. A voice, distant and sounding much like the thunder of the waves called her name. Her eyes flew up and scanned the shore. A man stood with his back to her, staring at the sea. He turned around, his braided frock coat flapping in the wind and a suggestive grin on his rounded face. “Come here, Angeline. The water’s warm.”

Her heart dropped like a stone.

“Angeline,” another man called, drawing her gaze to the other side of James, where the old trapper, Swain, stood beckoning her toward him with a curled finger. “Come for a swim, my precious peach.” Perspiration dampened her skin. Her breath clogged in her throat. No. Not two of them here at the same time! And why now?

To remind her she wasn’t worthy enough to sit in a church service. That she had no right to be here among proper folk. She glanced around the crowd to see if anyone saw the men when a third one appeared just feet away. Charlie Wilkins, one of her regulars. Smoke curled from the cigar hanging from his lips while he counted out dollars in his hands, just as he used to do when he paid for her services. He glanced down at her, eyes cold and void. “Go in the water, Angeline. You aren’t clean. You must be clean to sit there.”

Angeline couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t live with the memories anymore. She wanted to shut her eyes and never open them again. She
did
shut her eyes, but the voices continued. She covered her ears, but they rang in her head. “Whore. Hussy. You’ll never change. The water, the water, it’s the only way,” all three men brayed in unison. Eliza squeezed her hand. James’s voice grew distant. Sweat slid down her back. Every breath became a struggle. “Filthy whore. The water will cleanse you. The water, the water, the water—” Punching to her feet, she barreled straight through ole Charlie and dashed toward the sea with one thought in mind. To silence the memories. To end the pain.