Page 20 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

“I want every sheet checked for rips, every rope, block, and pulley inspected. Caulk the seams, tar the rigging, scrub the deck, polish every spit of brass, and pump the bilge from the hold.” Blake spouted a string of orders to Finn as they stood amidships. His quartermaster nodded, sending his pipe bobbing up and down in the morning light.

Blake continued, giving further instructions, though his friend no doubt knew what to do. He’d sailed with Blake for five years, since Blake had first set out as a buccaneer. “I want the brig cleaned from stem to stern, guns cleaned, supplies checked and replenished, and ready to set sail at a moment’s notice.”

Finn pulled the pipe from his mouth. “Aye, aye, Cap’n. Ye knows ye can trust me.” His grin, which was rarely so wide, revealed two missing teeth on the bottom and a gold one on top. Yet when he lowered his gaze again, ’twas to the Ring on Blake’s finger.

Blake clapped him on the back, hoping he could trust him, but remembering his vow to put no faith in anyone again, not a man or, especially, not a woman.

Finn pointed his pipe at the Ring. “Are ye tellin’ me that this Ring were the same Ring King Solomon wore?”

Blake nodded, fingering the relic. “Aye, that’s what I hear.”

“Well, I’ll be the son o’ a sea urchin. No wonder ye stole it from ole Slippery Crock.” He licked his lips. “And it ’as power! Mystical power. Blind me, but were it what made the storm on the island that ’elped us escape?”

As much as Blake would prefer to deny it, how could he? “So it would seem.”

Finn whistled and scratched beneath his bandana. “Wit’ that kind a power, ye’d be undefeated on sea an’ land.”

That was the idea. Still, the hungry gleam in the quartermaster’s eyes gave Blake pause. Friend or not, what man on earth wouldn’t want to possess such power? And who could blame him?

Chattering rang across the deck, and Bandit leapt from the ratlines onto Blake’s shoulder. He’d wondered where the monkey had run off to. Most likely swinging through the canopy, chasing birds, and enjoying the abundance of tropical fruits. Now, he screeched into Blake’s ear and put his spindly little hand on the Ring on Blake’s finger.

He could have sworn he heard Bandit say, “The Ring is hers.” But that couldn’t be.

Finn chuckled. “Seems even yer monkey wants the Ring.”

Blake shook his head. “Did you hear him say something?”

“The stinky varmint?” Finn’s brows crossed. “Nay. Are ye feelin’ well, Cap’n?”

“Never mind.” Blake grabbed Bandit and set him on the deck just as female laughter floated on the morning mist. Making his way to the railing, he could hardly believe his eyes. Charlie and Emeline frolicked in the surf like little girls, splashing each other over and over and laughing as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Amazed, he envied them, watching their childish play for several moments, finding it hard not to smile.

Joining him, Finn snickered. “Well, fire an’ flame. Ne’er saw Charlie act like a girl afore.”

“Aye, ’tis a strange sight, indeed. Now, quit dawdling and get to work.” Blake regretted his harsh tone, but he must prove his authority with his crew, even those he considered friends. Besides, he suddenly remembered that last night he had disclosed things to Emeline he’d never told anyone, and his anger burned.

What was it about the silly female that caused him to open his heart, a heart he vowed to keep safe behind a fortress of indifference and self-interest?

Shoving his pipe back into his mouth, Finn ambled away, grumbling, just as Bandit leapt onto the bulwarks. The traitorous monkey spotted Emeline and Charlie and wasted no time scrambling up the ratlines onto the forward yard and leaping from it onto a palm branch reaching for the brig. From there, he darted across the sand to the ladies.

Blake double-checked his Ring just in case, then cursed and ordered a pirate to row him ashore.

Emeline looked none too happy to see him, though how could he blame her? He must not show weakness, must not show that what happened between them last night troubled him in the least. Hence, he put on his most authoritative expression, ordered Charlie to the brig to aid Finn with the repairs, and told Emeline to accompany him.

Sighing her displeasure, the lady slipped her shoes back on, stood, brushed sand from her skirts, and gave him a pointed look. “Am I to run the gauntlet, Captain?”

Blake couldn’t help but grin. “Tempting. Unless you’ve done something to warrant it?”

“The look on your face. ’Tis the same one you give your crew when they’ve done something to incur your wrath.”

“Ah, you think you know me so well, my sugar bird.”

“Stop calling me that! I am not made of sugar, nor am I your little bird.”

Her face flushed in such an adorable way, Blake smiled again, something he was doing far too often for a pirate captain. “Follow me.” Turning, he started for the jungle, listening for her footsteps behind him. Would she obey?

Moments passed, but finally the sound of shuffling sand along with grumbling brought his assurance.

Pushing aside a large fern, he held it back for her as she entered the tangled wood. Bandit darted for her but leapt into a tree instead.

“How long are we to be on this island?” She brushed past him. Her sweet scent blended with the smell of earth and greenery, defying her earlier declaration that she was not made of sugar.

A sugar he would love to sample.

“I haven’t decided.” He slipped beside her. “Are you bored already? Prefer the tiny cabin on the Summons ?”

Clutching her skirts, she stepped over a thick vine traversing the path and frowned. “What I prefer is to be home with my family.”

“Hmm. I doubt they have such a fine estate since I’ve heard they give away quite a bit to the impoverished.”

Halting, she glared at him. A strand of her chestnut-colored hair dangled over her moist cheek, and he longed to slip it behind her ear. “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?”

Now ’twas Blake’s turn to frown. “You quote the Bible to a pirate?” He started forward again.

“Then you know the Word of God.”

A lizard skittered across the trail and disappeared into a shrub. “My mother read it to me when I was a child. As you can see, it made little impact.”

“Obviously.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, listening to the birdsong and buzz of insects. Along with Bandit’s occasional babbling above them as the monkey followed them through the canopy. Though Blake preferred the sea, there was something magnificent about life that teemed thick in the jungle.

“What will make an impact on you, then, Captain?” she asked.

A pungent question, indeed. One he did not wish to answer at the moment, for it had much to do with the lady herself.

Soon, they emerged into a large clearing full of rows and rows of all manner of crops. If he admitted it, he enjoyed the way Emeline’s eyes widened at the sight.

“What is all this?”

“I cleared the land for the Caribs who live here. They were already good at growing some crops, but I introduced others. Over there,”—he pointed to their left—“they grow yams and peppers. Then here, you see the lines of corn. Toward the jungle to the south,”—he gestured to the right—“are bananas and Cassava. On the other side of the island, we planted coffee and sugar cane.”

Fisting his hands on his hips, he gazed over the vast farmland, still amazed at what he had accomplished. Several natives worked among the rows, tending the plants, while others loaded wagons with fresh produce. Surely the lady would find such a large farm impressive.

“They are your slaves?” she finally asked, her tone disapproving.

He frowned. Not the reaction he’d hoped for. “Nay, they are welcome to eat whatever they grow as long as they provide for me and my crew when we are here and my staff when we are at sea. You see, we are self-sufficient. With fish and wild boar aplenty, we have all we need to survive.”

Her eyes swept to his, nary a hint of the amazement and admiration he expected to see within them.

“Is that what you seek most? A kingdom of your own?”

“Who wouldn’t want that?” He clutched the lion emblem around his neck, frustration bubbling in his gut. “Surely you find something here worthy of your approval?”

Wind tore over them, fluttering her loose curls behind her. “What does my opinion matter? You forget I am your prisoner.”

Blake ground his teeth. “And yet you have your freedom to roam as you please.”

“It is still a cage, is it not?”

The ungrateful wench! “If that is what you prefer, it can be arranged.”

There it was. The first speck of fear crossed her eyes. The first speck of the respect he deserved. Though for some reason, he instantly regretted it.

As if angry at his censure of the lady, Bandit leapt from a branch onto his shoulder and scolded him. Unfortunately, Blake understood the monkey’s harsh castigation well enough. Shoving him from his shoulder, he hoped he would leave, but the treasonous beast vaulted into Emeline’s arms.

Drawing the monkey close, she lowered her gaze. “I am appreciative of the comforts you have provided, Captain.”

He wanted to add, as you should be , but thought better of it. Instead, he led her past the fields and down another trail, past the Carib village, the sugar and gristmills, and storage barns. All of which engendered not a speck of her admiration.

In fact, her jovial mood from only moments ago grew dour, and he longed for their joyful banter to return.

He plucked Bandit from her arms. “I trust this may quite astound you.” As it had astounded Blake when he’d first discovered this particular power of the Ring. “Bandit,” he spoke with authority, drawing the monkey’s gaze. “Go fetch the lady a ripe mango.”

Grinning, Bandit flew from his arms onto a branch above them, then swinging through the canopy, made his way to a mango tree Blake had spotted. Within minutes, the monkey returned, a ripe green and orange fruit in his hand, which he quickly gave to Emeline.

She stared at it, her delicate brows scrunching, as her eyes shifted between the mango and Blake. “He does your bidding. He understands you?”

“Aye.” Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I can hardly believe it as well.” He scratched Bandit on the head. “You mentioned one of the powers of the Ring was communicating with animals, did you not?”

“Aye.” She blew out a sigh. “I thought ’twas only that the wearer understood what the animal said, not the other way around.” Her eyes widened. “That was why Bandit stole the Ring from Della Morte on that island with the hurricane. You instructed him.”

Blake nodded, enjoying this brief glimmer of approval from the lady.

Smiling, she plopped the mango into her skirt pocket and caressed Bandit’s cheek. “Thank you, little one.”

The monkey’s grin couldn’t have been wider.

Finally, back at the great house, Blake ushered her into the dining hall and ordered a light lunch of fresh bread, cheese, and plantains. Against all reason, he wanted to spend more time with the lady, found her company challenging and enjoyable like none other.

But ’twas obvious the lady did not return such sentiments. “I fear I am not hungry. May I retire to my chamber, Captain?” She stood before him, eyes and jaw like steel.

“Forgive my earlier outburst, Emeline.” He approached, enjoying her flinch at the sound of her Christian name on his lips. He quite enjoyed the sound of it as well.

“An apology?” A spark of playfulness flitted across her eyes. “Are you feeling well?”

He knew she meant it in jest, but he was not in the jesting mood. “Will you at least admit that I have accomplished more than most lads tossed from their homes at only sixteen?”

Her eyes met his, sorrow and sincerity burned within them. “You have done well, Captain. I merely wonder to what purpose?”

To what purpose ? The woman muddled his brain. Any normal woman, anyone, in fact, regardless of their approval of his lifestyle, would be more than impressed with what he had accomplished in so short a time. Storming to the window, he stared out upon his island, his kingdom. Why did he care what this feeble missionary woman thought?

b

Emeline stared at Blake. A man of intense conflict and deep sorrow. Much like the funnel she’d seen in her dream, confusion, pain, loss, and betrayal all spun around him in a desperate need for power and control that would eventually pull him under. Worse, he was volatile. She never knew what would set the man off like a matchstick to a cannon.

He snapped an angry gaze her way. “You baffle me, Emeline.”

Thankfully, before she could respond in kind, Pedro entered the room, a wide grin on his face.

“Cap’n, can I go t’ the stables an’ ride one o’ the horses?”

Blake gave a disgusted grunt. “If you want to be a pirate captain someday, you need to quit wasting your time in idle pursuits. Pish! You should be on board the Summons helping Finn with repairs. But what do I expect from the likes of you? At your age I was working from dawn to dusk on my father’s plantation!”

Emeline’s body stiffened at the demeaning words pouring out like bilge water over the innocent lad. Pedro’s cheerful countenance sank to the floor. His shoulders slumped. All life and sparkle fled his eyes.

“I have work to do.” Blake marched to the door, the slam of his boots on the tile echoing his fury through the room. “Pedro, take Miss Hyde to her chambers and then report to Finn on the Summons immediately!” he shouted over his shoulder before he disappeared down the hall.

Forcing back her own fury, Emeline approached Pedro, who remained frozen in place, staring out the window like a pirate who’d just been keelhauled. Though he tried to contain himself, his bottom lip quivered.

“He didn’t mean what he said, Pedro. He’s angry with me, not you.” She tried to pull him close for a hug, but he jerked away.

“He’s righ’, Miss. I’m not much good for nothing.”

She gripped his shoulders and made him look at her. “That is not true. You are a smart, capable young man, and you will make something great out of yourself someday.”

His lips slanted, but he shook his head. “If my own father didn’t want me, Miss…” His voice trailed off into a sob.

Sorrow gripped her heart so tight, she slumped into a nearby chair. How does a child recover from such rejection? Why, Lord? Why do you allow so much pain in this forsaken world? “Come sit with me a moment.” She gestured to a chair beside hers.

“Nay, Miss, I best do what the cap’n ordered.” He ran a hand through his shock of red hair and smiled. Always a smile on this boy, no matter his pain.

“You must believe in yourself, in who God made you to be. And know that whatever task is set before you, He will equip you to do it well.” Even as she said the words, she realized she needed to hear them as much as this lad . Wasn’t she just as much an accident as this boy? She’d been only seven years old when she’d overheard her parents saying they’d not wanted another child after Caleb, how upset they’d been when her mother had found out she was with child again. How they wanted to spend their time and money helping orphan children, not having more of their own. It devasted her at the time. She was an accident, an unforeseen tragedy, a burden to her parents.

“Thank you for your kindness, Miss.” Pedro interrupted her thoughts. “You’re the only one ever been nice to me.”

Emeline smiled, then allowed the lad to escort her back to her chamber. Once there, she checked the bottom drawer of the dressing bureau and found the coins and pistol just where Charlie had put them. Astounding. She closed the drawer and spent the afternoon praying for Pedro, for Charlie, for the captain, and for all of them.

“I must be here for a reason, Lord. All these people desperately need to know You, to know they are loved and that You have a better plan for their lives. But am I doing any good at all?” For it seemed to her, she was wasting her time. “Perhaps You should have sent my sister… or better yet, my brother.” Surely, they would have the entire island bowing their knees to the Almighty by now.

Feeling every bit the failure that Pedro felt earlier, she paced her chamber throughout the afternoon, one minute glancing out the window onto the gardens below, the other resting upon her bed, the next counting the steps from wall to wall.

All the while thinking of that fishing boat Charlie had shown her and plotting her soon escape.