Blow Me Down (21 page)

The hard, flat look of anger was back in his eyes. “What bonus?”

“Our marriage, remember?” I set down my mug of ale and leaned across the table to level a glare at him. “You said if we got married I’d have access to your things, and you would get stuff to me through the blockade.”

“Yes, but that was before.” It wasn’t easy to catch the fleeting expressions on his face in the smoky, dark atmosphere of the inn, but I recognized the mulish expression on his face well enough. Lord knows I’d seen a similar expression on Tara’s face often enough. Oh, all right, and mine as well.

“Before what?”

“Before I knew I loved you!” he bellowed, slapping his hands down on the table.

Everyone in the room stopped, turning to look at our corner. I smiled weakly and gave a quick wave. “Little argument, nothing serious. Go back to your carousing and wenching and . . . er . . . vomiting.”

I looked away from the man ralphing into a slops bucket and gave Corbin my most patient look. “Corbin, I don’t want anyone hurt—not you or the people on Turtle’s Back; not even Bart.”

“No. There’s got to be another way.”

“Fine. Give me another option.”

His jaw tightened.

I put my hand on his, giving it a little squeeze. “I don’t think we have any other choice, Corbin.”

“Dammit!” He cursed profanely under his breath. I felt for him, I really did, but there just didn’t seem to be any other way around it—I was going to have to go to war against him.

“Good-bye, Corbin. I don’t want to go, but I don’t really have a choice—not if we want to bring an end to this. You’ll be hearing from me. I will hold you to your word about supplies for Turtle’s Back, by the way.” I stood up, gathering my things.

“You’re just going to up and leave me?” Corbin stayed seated, as if he didn’t take me leaving seriously.

“I’m not leaving you—not really. Bas and I are going home. I’d like to be home before morning since I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot to do before the blockade.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the mulish look back. “And just how do you plan on getting there? Whisking on a convenient bit of wind, perhaps?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I lifted my chin, stung by the fact that he didn’t seem to understand how badly I was feeling about the whole thing. “I’ll find someone to sail us there if you’re not inclined to help your own wife.”

“
My wife
would not abandon me for another man,” Corbin growled, getting to his feet at last.

“Now, that isn’t fair at all. Dammit, Corbin, give me an alternative!”

“I’ve given you one. You won’t take it,” he said, anger visible in his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who has a shred of pride,” I pointed out, angry, hurt, and sad all at the same time. “If the game calls for me to be true to my crew, then I’m going to be true. Especially since I think I can help bring about the end of the war.”

“You just don’t like conflict,” he snapped.

“Not when it concerns people I care about, no. I don’t suppose there’s a mechanism in the game for divorce?” I asked sweetly.

“No.”

I smiled. “Then we’re still married, husband mine. Good night. I’ll be in contact about the supplies we need on Turtle’s Back.”

“Amy!”

I turned on my heel and marched out of the inn, hoping against hope that Corbin either would come up with another plan that wouldn’t screw us up as far as the scenario went, or would at the very least understand why I had to go to war.

“Good luck findin’ yer way to Turtle, lass,” Corbin called after me in a voice loud enough to be heard across the entire lower half of the island. “There’ll not be a soul here who’ll take ye against me wishes. When ye’ve had enough of yer high-and-mighty act, let me know.”

I sighed. Hope is such a fickle thing.

—Ibid, Act I

“Holder, can you—”

“No.”

I gave him a disgusted glare. “You’ve been talking to Corbin, haven’t you?”

The first mate, now clad in tight leather pants, a swishy white shirt, and a red sash tied around his waist, cocked an eyebrow at me briefly before returning his attention to the blond barmaid who stood behind a tall counter polishing a row of metal tankards. “Of course I have. And he told me to tell you no when you asked me to sail you to Turtle’s Back, and I, ever the dutiful friend, have just done as I was so ordered. Can you be ready to leave in an hour?”

“Huh?” He grinned at me. I smacked him on the arm and said, “You’re going to take me? What was all that no business?”

“Corbin told me to tell you no. I said I would. So I said no. He didn’t actually forbid me to take you home,” Holder answered, still grinning. I grinned back.

“I like how you think. Yes, we can be ready to leave in an hour. Er . . . that is, we’ll be ready if you tell me where Bas is.” I looked around the inn in which I’d finally tracked down Holder. It was located near the governor’s mansion, in a much more affluent area of town, and seemed to be patronized by upscale pirates, if there was such a thing. Even so, an inn with bawdy women and drunken men was no place for a child. “You didn’t bring him here, did you?”

“Naw, I left him at Wry Wenham’s.”

I accepted the small glass of ale the buxom barmaid brought and, distracted for a moment by a thought, asked Holder, “I swear I’ve seen that woman before. Why do all the barmaids here have an overabundance of bosomage?”

He laughed. “Because this game is going to appeal primarily to men, and I like them that way.”

“I thought you were happily married,” I said, sipping my ale.

“I am. See Saucy Sally there?” He nodded toward the barmaid, who was serving someone at the other end of the counter. She was identical in every way but clothing and hairstyle to the barmaid who’d been ogling Corbin. “That’s my wife, Linda.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“Or rather, her face and body are my wife’s. Linda was one of the models we digitized for the game. She makes a fine barmaid, doesn’t she?” He paused to admire the woman as she jiggled her way to the next customer.

“Very fitting. Who or what is Wry Wenham’s, and where is it located?”

He smiled indulgently as Saucy Sally slapped the face of a pirate who was apparently getting a bit too fresh. “I had Corb program in that response whenever a man gets too blatant. I don’t mind them looking, but no one is going to have her but me.”

I opened my mouth to say something about that but changed my mind. “Wry Wenham’s?” I prompted, instead.

“Surgeon. His place is two streets down, on the corner. Big bougainvillea bushes outside it.”

“A surgeon?” I asked, a little surprised. I had assumed Bas would drift along with whatever morbid whim claimed him. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Does his house have a nice view?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not really. He’s also the undertaker. The second Bas heard Wenham had in the bodies from a recent shipwreck, he was off like a scalded seal.”

I smacked him on the arm. “That is not responsible child care. Now I’m going to have to put up with listening to him yammer on and on and on about drowning victims. I’ll get you for this; see if I don’t. Which ship will I meet you at?”

He gave me the ship name and directions to find her, and promised to be at the dock in an hour or less.

“One question,” I said before leaving him.

“Why am I going against Corbin’s wishes?” he asked, taking a long swig of rum.

I nodded.

“Well, I like you, you see. And I think you’re good for Corbin. He’s worth a small fortune, you know? So lots of gold diggers have him in their sights. They drop into his lap. It’s not good for him to just have everything handed to him—but you’re not like that. He has to work to win you, and if I can help make things just a teeny bit more difficult for him, then I will.”

I smiled, despite myself. “You really are something else. First you go out of your way to throw us together, marrying me to Corbin despite the fact that I didn’t want to be married to him, and now you’re trying to keep us apart.”

His eyebrows bobbled at me. “It’s for the best.”

“Best for finishing the scenario and finding Paul, or best for Corbin and me?”

“Anything to say it can’t be both?”

“Nope.” I thought for a moment, unwilling to put into words what I wanted to ask. “Do you think we have a chance?”

“You and Corbin?”

“Yeah.”

“Inside the game? Absolutely.”

“That’s well and fine, but what about outside it? That’s what really matters.”

The laughing light left his eyes as he gave me a long look. “I’d say that’s completely up to you.”

Approximately four and a half hours later, Bas and I took a lantern from Holder and marched our way along the leeward-side path up and over the turtle’s back, down to the town proper. As I feared, Bas had been full of the (to him) fascinating facets of drowned bodies and had spent the entire trip describing in great detail his time spent with the surgeon/undertaker. I let him go on not only because it was one of his few pleasures, but also because I was currently struggling with a few unwieldy and unwelcome emotions.

I’d only been parted from him for six hours, and already I missed Corbin.

“I am not going to do this,” I told myself a short while later as we slipped into Renata’s house. I sent Bas off to the small closetlike room Renata had given up to him, and headed toward my own room. Although it was the small hours of the morning, I could hear voices and the sound of a concertina from the main room, while assorted giggles, shouts, and moans from some of the bedrooms told me the ladies were still going strong. “I’m not going to become one of those women who can’t exist without a man. They’re nice in many aspects, and handy when it comes to dealing with spiders, but I can get along just fine without one in my life permanently.”

“Can ye, now?” Renata asked as she emerged from my room just as I was reaching for the half-opened door, causing me to jump in surprise.

“Oh, man, you startled me. Evening, Renata.”

“Good evenin’ to ye, too,” she said, giving me a shrewd look. “Ye’re comin’ in a wee bit later than normal, eh?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I . . . Bas and I were out sailing, and we didn’t get back until late. We ended up on the other side of the island,” I said, fingers crossed behind my back even though I wasn’t outright lying.

She nodded, but the look she gave me told me I wasn’t fooling her. “Ye’re a woman with a few brains about ye,” she said, surprising me again. Renata wasn’t one to heap praise on someone where it wasn’t due. “Ye’ve got yer wits about ye, and ye’re not afraid to work. And ye stand up for what ye believe in.”

“Thank you,” I said, humbled but wondering what brought on the praise. And what had she been doing in my bedroom? I didn’t have anything there but a few items of clothing that had been given to me, and the fake leg I’d acquired the first day. Certainly nothing of interest for anyone to snoop around.

Her gimlet glance turned even sharper. “There are times, however, when I think ye’ve less sense than that tick-riddled harbinger of death that clings to Bas’s shoulder. Ye’re riskin’ losin’ the man what is meant for ye over a few scraps of pride. ’Tis folly of the worst sort, lass, but I don’t expect ye’ll be seein’ that until it’s too late.”

She hobbled past me, leaving me sputtering, “But . . . he . . . we’re only . . . I’m not . . . huh?”

“If I was ye, I’d be doin’ everythin’ I could to join me man.”

“Er . . . we’re on opposite sides of the blockade. That makes it a bit difficult.”

“Does it?” She stopped for a moment at the door to the common room. “Perhaps ye’re not tryin’ hard enough.”

“Not trying hard enough!” I made an impatient gesture. “I like that. Just what am I supposed to be doing that I’m not?”

She made a thoughtful face. “Well, as ye’re askin’ me advice . . . if we was wearin’ each other’s shoes, I’d be makin’ sure that I talked to Black Corbin as soon as possible. If ye truly want to resolve the blockade, that is.”

“Of course I do, and I’d love to talk to him, but there’s no time. Bart says the blockade ships will be here tomorrow morn—scratch that, this morning—and short of using Girl Scout semaphore, I don’t see how I’m going to be able to talk with him.”

“Get him on yer ship, dearie,” Renata said, smiling.

“Hmm.” I mused that thought over. “That might be possible.”

“Aye, ’twould be an unnatural man as could resist a wench as comely as yerself.”

“Thank you . . . I think.”

Her laughter floated through the door as she closed it behind her, leaving me alone in the hallway. I shook my head before entering my room.

“I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as she seems to think it is. And why should she care whether or not Corbin and I are on the same side?” I asked the silent room as I entered. Faint moonlight entered through the unshuttered open window, but the room was empty, and it gave me no answer . . . until I started to undress. As I opened the small, battered chest where I kept my clothing, I noticed that someone had been in it. Half tucked down under a pair of striped knickers, as if hurriedly shoved there, was the corner of the letter Corbin had sent me. I sat back on my heels as I considered the fact that it wasn’t where I had left it. Just what on earth was Renata doing going through my things and reading Corbin’s letter?

I fell asleep with my mind whirling with questions about Renata. Interspersed with them were random memories of my last few hours with Corbin, and the sudden knowledge that what I felt for him was going beyond anything I’d felt for a man before.

My brain amused me with the most erotic dream I’d ever had. In it, Corbin was covering my body in hot kisses that had me squirming with myriad forms of desire and need and want. I begged him to stop the torment and allow me to take my turn romping on his playground, but he wasn’t listening to me.