Page 16 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

T

wo things rampaged through Emeline’s mind as she stood at the bulwarks amidships. One was the horrid nightmare she had last night. The other was the tender way Blake held her, caressed her back, and whispered words of comfort in her ears. She could not shake the pleasurable sensation of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his body, the salty scent of his hair. She’d felt safe, protected, and cared for. Something she desperately needed after her nightmare. And after her ordeal of the past two weeks.

But then the honorable hero became the heartless pirate again. A transformation so fast and unexpected that she was on tenterhooks as to which one she would meet moment to moment. Which made it nigh impossible to deal with the man.

Though deal with him she must, so long as he kept her imprisoned on his ship.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, a handbreadth above the horizon, she gazed across the aquamarine sea, relishing the beauty of it, yet its wildness, its fickleness. Things her father said he loved most about the Caribbean. Having been raised on a ship, Emeline felt a kindred attachment to the foamy waters. Yet now they seemed naught but a formidable expanse, an impenetrable fortress between her and freedom, her and her family.

Wind whipped her hair behind her, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily as memories of her nightmare surfaced. What does it mean, Lord? Am I supposed to save Blake from Della Morte? From the Ring ? She nibbled on her lip. Was he doomed to die and she along with him? How was she supposed to battle such evil? She was only one woman, alone and with no talents to speak of.

“I’m surprised to see the captain allows you on deck.” The female voice snapped Emeline’s eyes open to see Charlie approaching from her left.

Emeline glanced over her shoulder at Blake up on the quarterdeck talking to Finn. After she and Bandit had returned to her cabin, Pedro arrived with coffee and a biscuit to break her fast, informing her that the captain gave her leave to wander the ship.

Either he thought her safe from the pirates during the day, or he no longer cared what happened to her. Either way, she braved the salacious glances from the crew for a much-needed breath of fresh salty air and warm sun on her face.

Emeline smiled at Charlie. “He’s full of surprises.”

“That’s one way t’ put it.” The master gunner gripped the railing as the brig mounted a large wave. “He fancies you, you know.”

Emeline laughed. “Ludicrous. He needs me for something, ’tis all.” ’Twas the what he needed that had her nerves on edge.

“Mebbe. But I ne’er seen him order the crew’s hands off any female before. An’ aye, he’s had women on board more’an once.”

So he did care if she were harmed. She shook off the spark of hope that rose at Charlie’s words. “As I said, he wants me for something.”

One of Charlie’s brows arched as she scanned Emeline’s breeches, shirt, and waistcoat. “The garb suits you, Miss. We may make a pirate out o’ you yet.”

Chuckling, Emeline balanced her shoes on the heaving deck. “No offense, but I don’t wish to spend my life in thievery.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing. But very well. Your dress is dry. I’ll bring it t’ your cabin later.”

“Thank you.” The Summons dipped into a trough, sending foamy spray over them. A familiar sensation, a good one. Emeline wiped her face. “Do you know where we are heading?”

“Aye. The captain’s island.”

“He has an island?” Emeline asked, baffled. Of course the pompous pirate would have his own island.

“You’ll see,” Charlie responded, leaning forward on the railing.

Emeline longed to keep the woman talking. ’Twas nice to have female company. “How did you become one of the best master gunners in all the West Indies?”

“One of? You mean the best.” Winking, Charlie flung her long hair behind her.

“Your confidence does you great credit, Charlie.” A quality Emeline sorely lacked. Her father and mother always told her she was special with unique talents, but they could never voice precisely what those talents were.

“A fearless certainty in my skills along wit’ a cocksure attitude is the only thing these thieving toads respect.” Charlie’s eyes snapped to Maston across the deck, shouting orders to topmen. “It is the only way a woman can earn wealth wit’out a man’s help.”

Emeline thought of Delphine and wondered how she fared. “Surely you weren’t always this confident.”

Charlie stared over the sea for several moments. “Believe it or not, I used to be a decent woman raised by good parents. My father were a blacksmith. I were taught that if I behaved an’ married well, I’d be happy an’ fulfill my place in society.” She blew out a snort.

Wind blasted over them as the captain’s shouts to trim sheets bellowed across the deck. Still Emeline waited for Charlie to continue, not wanting to press her.

“ I learned the hard way that life don’t always work out like we plan. In the end, I’d much rather be a master gunner than some man’s subservient wife.”

Emeline pondered her words. In her family, she’d seen naught but happy marriages with love and respect flowing equally between husband and wife. Still, she wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that all marriages were so.

Sails flapped and thundered as the Summons tacked slightly to starboard.

“Truth is,” Charlie continued, “ I dressed like a man an’ joined a merchant ship pretending t’ be a lad. The master gunner took me under his wing, treated me like a son, an’ taught me everything I know. I kept getting better an’ better. We was captured by a pirate, an’ I were given a choice t’ join or walk the plank. I joined.”

Emeline stared at her friend, amazed. “They still didn’t discover you were a woman?”

“No. Stupid blokes.” She chuckled.

“Then when the master gunner got cut in half by a Royal Navy twenty pounder, I was put in charge. The captain liked what he saw an’ made me master gunner in his place.”

“Captain Keene?”

“No, a different captain, though he had a bit of gentleman in him.” Sorrow tugged on her features, and Emeline knew deep inside that this pirate captain had treated Charlie cruelly.

“What happened?”

“ Nothin’. I escaped while at port an’ a year later joined up wit’ Captain Keene.”

“I’m sorry that captain mistreated you.” She laid a hand atop Charlie’s, but the master gunner jerked away, her eyebrows colliding.

“How do you…?” Anger sparked in her eyes. “You proper ladies think you know what it’s like for the rest o’ us women. I have work t’ do.” Shaking her head, she marched away, leaving Emeline baffled as to what she’d said that upset her.

b

Blake downed yet another glass of rum, ignoring the voice within him that said he’d been overindulging of late. But how else was he to endure the excruciating temptation of Miss Emeline Hyde sleeping in his bed for the past three nights? Nay, she was not the fairest of the women he’d been with, nor the most sensuous, and certainly her tongue was not at all flattering to his ego.

But he found every ounce of him drawn to her like none before. She was everything he was not. Humble, kind, generous, at peace . She was light and love, and, like a moth to a flame, he was lured to her, unable to stop himself. Also like a moth, her light would surely kill him should he get too close.

Even worse, her presence brought unusual sensations of guilt and regret over the wicked life he’d chosen. Hang it! He’d never entertained such ridiculous notions before. He did not need this distraction. Not now when he was so close to achieving his dreams.

But he needed her .

She kept the demons and nightmares at bay. He twisted the Ring on his finger, staring out the stern windows at ribbons of sparkling sunlit waves.

“Cap’n.” Finn’s voice at his door spun him around. “We’s approachin’ Keene Island.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll be up shortly.” He faced the windows again. Finally home. Things would be better where he was not only captain but king. Where, with this Ring, he would maintain his power and protect his kingdom from all enemies.

Up on deck, he drew the spyglass to his eye. His island sat sturdily upon the sea, her mountain peaks reaching for the clouds, her lush greenery and creamy sands inviting him home. If only his father— and his mother—could see him now. Could see the fortune and land he’d amassed for himself. He huffed. Along with Josephine Arnaud.

Lowering the scope, his eyes latched upon Emeline standing at the starboard railing, her lustrous hair tumbling down to her waist, her blue skirts flapping in the wind. She stood tall, chin raised, facing the sea like a regal princess. Bandit leapt from the ratlines to the railing beside her and began jabbering as if telling her a story. Her laughter reached Blake, doing strange things to his insides.

“Fire when ready!” he shouted to Charlie stationed by one of the nine-pounders, matchstick in hand. Boom ! The gun thundered, sending a smoky haze back over the deck and announcing their arrival.

He was not the only one staring at the lady. Several of his pirates cast lecherous glances her way, along with Maston, who stood amidships ordering the topmen. He would have to watch the libertine closely.

Better yet, he must discover what power the lady held over demons, acquire it, and then send her back to her father. The sooner the better before her holiness infected him and ruined all his plans.

b

Emeline could only stare in horror at the same bay she’d seen in her recent nightmare, down to the coconut palms swaying in the breeze, the snowy white color of the sand, and the oblong shape of the bay. She tightened her grip on the railing as her heart squeezed. What could this mean?

The stone turrets of a small fortress gleamed in the setting sun upon a nearby hill. Beyond them, a gabled roof and white walls of a large house rose above the trees. So, this was Blake’s kingdom, as he put it. The man’s hubris would put any king’s to shame.

Kingdom or not, land or sea, she was still his prisoner. But to what purpose? It must have something to do with that infernal Ring, but what she could not say. He’d hardly spoken a word to her in two days. She’d been given her meals in her cabin and only summoned to his when the sun sank below the horizon. After three nights, she’d stopped fearing he would ravish her, for he seemed not the least bit desirous of her in that way.

Oddly enough, she took it as an affront to her feminine allure. Was she not attractive enough to even elicit the lust of a pirate? Yet no sooner did the thought enter her mind, then she repented, for she’d rather be considered the ugliest of women than to be ravished.

Still, as the soundings were called, the commands issued to lower sails, and finally the anchor dropped with a mighty splash, she wondered what the captain had in store for her on this island. She wondered what her family was doing and where they were. Did they miss her? Were they looking for her?

As if sensing her loneliness, Bandit jumped into her arms and clung to her neck. His familiar monkey scent brought an odd comfort.

“You are my only friend, Bandit.” She scratched beneath his chin, and he lifted his head and grinned.

“I’m yer friend too, Miss!” Pedro appeared beside her and tore off his floppy hat, his red hair tossed this way and that by the breeze and his smile beaming. “He says I’m t’ take ye ashore an’ show ye t’ yer chamber.”

The he must be the captain. But a chamber? That sounded more inviting than a jail cell. Besides, Emeline couldn’t think of a better escort.

Hence, within an hour of anchoring, she found herself ashore with Pedro and two pirates, trunks hoisted on their shoulders. The captain remained behind, managing the offloading of his precious stolen goods. All the while, the beach flooded with Caribs and other natives who hailed Blake as if he were a god returning from the skies.

“This way, Miss.” Pedro headed toward the jungle where a path broke through the leaves.

She started forward but felt a strange inkling and turned to see the captain’s unwavering gaze upon her from the ship. Though she could not make out his eyes nor his expression in the distance, a uniquely powerful sensation stretched between them. What could it be? What did darkness have to do with light? A chill scoured over her as she shifted her gaze to the soft sudsy wavelets of the bay, remembering how she’d tried to save him from the deadly funnel in her dream.

Turning, she followed Pedro into the web of green. Perhaps her mission was to save Blake. But from what, and more importantly, how?

The mansion, for that’s what it was, was not at all what she expected. For one thing, ’twas much larger than it appeared from afar, with several wings spreading out from a central large parlor that opened up to a massive ballroom. Fully armed, native guards stood before the gate, granting them entrance when they spotted Pedro.

To say she was impressed would be an understatement, for the home looked more like a king’s palace than a pirate haven. She spotted paintings hanging on walls and longed for a tour, but Pedro led her up a set of curved stairs, down a long hallway decorated with carved crown molding, to a room toward the back.

The chamber was small but well-appointed. The walls were paneled in fine wood with gilded moldings and decorative cornices. A window, framed by blue damask curtains, let in a modicum of afternoon light onto the Turkish rug gracing the floor. A four-poster bed centered the room, draped in a rich velvet coverlet. Two gilded chairs, a dressing table beside a framed mirror, a porcelain tub, and a large ornately-carved wardrobe filled the rest of the room. Oddly, a closed door stood off to her right. Perhaps leading to a dressing closet. She stared in shocked delight. ’Twas a far cry from the tiny cabin she’d been stuffed in for the past several days.

“Cap’n says t’ stay in here, Miss.” Then, as if sensing she didn’t want him to leave, he added, “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

“ You’re very kind, Pedro. You must have been raised well in that monastery. You said your parents left you there?”

“I got no parents, Miss.” Shrugging, he gazed out the window, longing in his eyes.

“Everyone has parents.”

“Natural ones, I suppose.” He faced her. “But not ones who love you. I were only five, Miss. I don’t remember them.”

Five ? Sadness weighed on her heart. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“I were a bastard, Miss.” His voice started out high-pitched, then grew deep, reminding Emeline he was fast becoming a man. “The nuns told me Francisco de Taboada were my father, an’ me mother were a chamber maid in his estate on Panama.”

Emeline drew a deep breath. Such sad stories. Did anyone on board the Summons have a normal, happy childhood except for her? She’d never considered how blessed she’d been. Oh, how the enemy loved to kill, steal, and destroy every life…and the younger the better.

“I’m sorry.” She could think of nothing else to say.

“Don’t be, Miss. Some people are just born t’ be nothin’. Others are born t’ be great. The sooner we accept our lot in life, the happier we will be.”

What foolish wisdom was that?

Emeline sensed a deep sorrow in the lad, far too deep for one so young. A sorrow he often hid behind his childish grin. Approaching, she reached for his hands.

“That is not true, Pedro. God never creates rubbish. Every single person is valuable to Him and has a purpose in this world.”

He took a step back. “I gots t’ go now.” He flipped his hat atop his head, smiled, and left, closing the door behind him.

b

No sooner did Blake’s feet land on his island than the Caribs he paid to protect it gathered around him, bowing and greeting him like the king he was. Two dozen of them to be exact. He’d built homes for them, gave them clothing, food, weapons, and the freedom to live on the island in whatever way they chose. In return, they were loyal to him and protected his home when he was away. That was what power and money provided—loyalty, fear, and lifelong service. All of which put Blake at the top of society and not the bottom. A place he would never be again.

He greeted them in return, uttering his appreciation and thanks in their native tongue, a bit of which he had learned. Then, with one last glance at the Summons, where he’d left a small crew as first watch, he plunged into the jungle.

As much as he loved the sea, he looked forward to coming home to a warm bath, a meal that wasn’t hard tack and fish stew, and to a place where he could enjoy the finer things in life—music, dance, art. He was most anxious to show Miss Emeline his art collection, though why, he couldn’t say, except that she might be the only one on the island who would appreciate it.

Emeline . He wondered at her impression of his home, picturing her surprise and astonishment at how cultured he was, how wrong she’d been in thinking him a barbaric, unlettered brute. He would prove to her that he could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

Scads! He instantly cursed himself for those thoughts. It had been a long time since he’d cared what anyone thought of him, and he wasn’t going to start now. Especially not for some highborn, virtuous, nose-in-the-air female.

However when that nose-in-the-air female sashayed into the banquet room later that night, dressed in satin and lace and with her hair pinned up in a bounty of curls, Blake found he did care what she thought. A great deal.