Page 22 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

T

he next two days passed in a blur of shame, fear, and loneliness. Save for occasional outings during the day with Pedro as her chaperone and a prattling Bandit in her arms, Emeline remained in her chamber. Even when Blake sent Charlie one night and Finn the next to escort her to dinner, she insisted she was ill and refused to come. She could not face the captain. She could not face herself. Had she forgotten all her parents taught her, what God taught her about keeping herself pure for marriage?

Moving to the window, she admired the exquisite swaths of maroon, saffron, and tangerine the Almighty painted across the horizon above the setting sun. An evening wind sent palm fronds dancing and leaves fluttering across the small island, bringing with it the sweet scent of flowers and earthy loam.

She pressed fingers onto her lips as memories returned of the unimaginable sensations Blake had evoked with his kiss. She’d never kissed a man before, save for the one Blake had stolen once before. That one didn’t count. This one…this one…suffice it to say, she had no idea the power of a man’s touch.

She’d already repented repeatedly of her wanton reaction and had hence decided she must avoid Blake at all costs and escape as soon as possible. Yet each night as she waited for the house to grow silent in sleep, Blake had opened the door between their chambers, drawn up a chair, and sat just inside her room. He said not a word, not a good evening, not a reproof, nor even a request for her to play the violin. He merely sat there in silence like a predator keeping watch over an unsuspecting prey. She pretended she was asleep.

Again, the man baffled her. Why did he not say something? Mention their kiss? Insist she accompany him to dinner? Why did he make no effort whatsoever to see her? Perhaps he’d found her kiss dreary. Perhaps he’d felt nothing. Worse, it disgusted him. ’Twould certainly explain why he’d told her to leave soon after.

“Lord, I’m being silly.” She turned from the window and moved to sit on her bed. “Worse than silly. Why should I care what he felt? I’m grateful he dismissed me.” She heaved a sigh and caught her reflection in the looking glass. The same plain woman stared back at her, the same dull hair, same ordinary features. She looked away.

One thing she did know. If the captain were to sit in her chamber each night, she must make her escape during the day. She must choose the time wisely, when servants and crew alike were busy with their tasks. Better, she must create a diversion—something that captured the attention of everyone.

b

Blake plucked a pickled oyster from the platter and popped it in his mouth. The sharp fishy taste tickled his tongue and brought a sense of satisfaction. Cook had done well. Surely, Emeline would appreciate having her choice of so fine a variety of small dishes instead of a main meal. Especially since she’d not eaten dinner the past two nights—two nights he’d kindly afforded her. But his kindness was at an end.

He glanced around the banquet hall, his gaze shifting over Charlie pouring herself a drink next to Rummy who already held a bottle in hand. Then over to Sam Goode, who appeared to be lecturing a small group of sailors about something that kept them riveted. Down the table from Blake, Pedro helped himself to potted shrimp on toast, while Finn, who had donned a clean bandana for the occasion, headed his way, pipe in his mouth. The rest of his crew lingered about the room chattering like a band of monkeys. Speaking of…where had Bandit run off to? Blake had not seen him since yesterday when he’d spotted him in Emeline’s arms as she strolled about the gardens with Pedro. Yet another member of his crew appeared to be missing—Maston. Odd. The Frenchman rarely missed one of Cook’s fine meals.

Finn drew up beside him and plucked the pipe from his mouth. “Quite a fancy spread ye got goin’ tonight, Cap’n. What be the occasion?”

Grabbing a bottle of rum, Blake poured himself a glass. “No occasion. Just thought the crew would like one more hearty meal before we set sail on the morrow.”

“Aye, Cap’n. A good idea. It’ll soon be back t’ nothin’ but ’ard tack, salted pork, an’ over-ripe fruit.” Crossing beefy arms over his chest he glanced about the room. “Where be that miss you been keepin’ all t’ yerself? Hadn’t seen ’er in a while. She still ill?”

Instead of answering him, Blake rattled off a list of tasks he’d given his quartermaster to accomplish to ensure the Summons was stocked and in fine shape for sailing. Regardless, his thoughts were on the miss that Finn had mentioned. He’d sent one of his crew, a rather imposing man, to her chamber to bring her to the banquet hall. Whether she wanted to or not. He’d have done it himself, but ’twas not his place to beg a lady for attention. Hang it ! When it came to the fairer gender, he’d never had to plead for favors at all.

Finn poured himself a drink and began answering each of Blake’s concerns, but Blake’s attention shifted to the open doors at his right.

Emeline Hyde walked in. Nay, more like she was dragged in by his man, Layton. The pirate started to pull her toward Blake, but she jerked from his grasp and said something that caused the man to send a questioning look his way.

Blake gestured for him to leave her be.

There she stood, head held high, chin in the air, staring him down as if he were the Kraken himself. She was an angel perched amidst a pack of demons. A bright light in a dark world. Sweet as honey yet sour to the taste. Soft as silk yet sharp as any knife.

“There the wench be, Cap’n,” Finn interrupted his list of accomplishments. He stuffed the pipe back into his mouth and took a puff, but his gaze wandered to the Ring on Blake’s finger.

The woman made no move in his direction. Ignoring Finn’s obsession with the Ring—for now—Blake started toward her, all the while gauging her mood. He knew he’d frightened her with his kiss, knew his reaction to it must have caused further alarm. For it had greatly alarmed him. Hence, the reason he’d left her alone the past two days. That and the fact he knew now without a doubt he must return the woman to her family posthaste. Her goodness, her purity was infecting him like a cancerous tumor spreading throughout his heart, turning the pirate into a puritan, the thief into a benefactor, the libertine into a gentleman. This was no way for a pirate captain to behave! Concerned for the feelings and chastity of a woman prisoner? Pish! He should have heretofore had his way with her and been done with it. Locked her in chains in his bedchamber to keep his demons at bay. He frowned. At best, he must avoid any and all contact with her.

Her golden eyes, sparking with both defiance and fear, locked upon his as he approached. He’d brought her here to both feed and inform her they were to set sail on the morrow. But in truth, he’d wanted to see her. Now that he did, he felt all resolve to keep her at arm’s length trickle off him onto the tile floor.

“You summoned me, Captain?” Her sharp tone cut, yet he sensed a tremble course through her, and she lowered her gaze.

“You must eat, Emeline.” He proffered his elbow.

Anger accused him from her eyes, but she slipped her hand onto his arm, nonetheless, and allowed him to escort her to the long table where all manner of meats, fish, cheese and pastries were elegantly displayed.

“I was sorry to hear you’ve been ill,” he teased as he swept an arm over the buffet and handed her a plate.

Her lips flattened. “An illness borne from being your captive, Captain.” She took the plate, her eyes moistening. “And from being your plaything.”

He could not help a slight grin. “You speak of our kiss.”

“’Twas your kiss…a kiss you stole.”

“I am a pirate, after all.” Raising a brow, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

She snagged it away. “You find this amusing?”

“Nay, I found our kiss…quite captivating.” He searched her eyes.

They flicked between his, unsure, fearful, before she swallowed and glanced away.

He leaned toward her. “Could you not tell?”

“I could hardly think with your bold intrusion into my mouth.”

He chuckled. “You are quite enchanting, Emeline.”

Her brow folded in a most adorable way as she stared at him aghast. “No one has ever called me so.”

“Then they are fools!” Scads! What was he doing? He was supposed to put distance between them, not lure her closer. He took a step back. “Nevertheless, we are to set sail on the morrow for Jamaica.”

Hope, followed by suspicion, traveled across her moist eyes. “What of your demons, Captain?”

“I’m the captain of the pirate ship, Summons and the king of this island. I can handle a few demons.” He attempted a smile, the joy of which languished within him, for he had no idea how to do such a thing. Perhaps if he acquired a Bible, a flask of Holy Water? There were many things he could attempt. None of which involved either this precious lady or her God.

The look she gave him was rife with doubt, but she said naught for several moments. “I pray you do not trifle with me, Captain, and give me hope where there is none to be found. Will you, indeed, take me home?”

Blake poured more rum into his glass, and, against everything within him, answered her, “You have my word. Now, eat.”

After casting him a dismissive glance, she turned and moved down the buffet, placing morsels of shrimp, cheese, pickled vegetables, and bread onto her plate. Instead of returning to him, she joined Charlie and Pedro, who were engaged in a game of dice along with a few of his crew.

He tossed the rum into his mouth and poured another glass, frustration brewing in his gut. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For her to keep her distance? Finally, the rum took effect, relaxing his nerves and numbing his agitated thoughts. Still, he could not take his eyes off her.

Light followed her, along with the eyes of many of his crew and staff. And he found himself jealous of their attentive stares. Forcing his gaze away, he located two musicians and ordered them to play something…anything…to liven his mood.

Soon the hall brimmed with the dulcet sounds of strings, bassoons, and a harpsichord as more staff and crew entered to partake of this final feast—a soirée he typically held before they set out to sea once again. Laughter, music, chattering, and even a shout or two filled the air as pirates and servants alike enjoyed the food and companionship. Blake prided himself on including everyone, no matter their status. He would not be like his father, who had belittled and berated those beneath him. Especially Blake.

He sipped his drink, scattering thoughts of the man, and glanced at the Ring. The crimson jewel in the center glistened in the candlelight. Nay, not candlelight. It possessed light all its own, shining from within. Power . Ultimate power. With his new venture to begin tomorrow, he’d be on his way to more conquests. Soon his name would be on every trembling lip in the Caribbean—a name that would evoke respect and fear.

After he returned Miss Hyde to her home, that was.

Against his will, his gaze found her again, laughing with Charlie, who apparently had won a pouch of coins. The master gunner excused herself and left the hall, passing Maston as he entered and giving him both a wide berth and a threatening look. Ignoring her, the Frenchman waltzed into the room in a flourish of silk and lace, his sharp gaze scouring its occupants. Upon spotting Emeline, he started for her.

Fury boiled under Blake’s skin. Did the man not see him standing here? Did he think he could accost the lady again and not pay for it with his life? Gripping the hilt of his cutlass, Blake charged toward him just as the Frenchman halted before Emeline, took her hand, and planted a kiss upon it. Disgust flared on Emeline’s face. Tugging from his grasp, she started to turn when Maston must have said something that upset her, for she raised her hand to slap him. But before she could, he caught her wrist and grinned.

All this, Blake saw in the seconds it took for him to reach them. Seconds in which his rage flamed as hot as a furnace. He thought to draw his sword and run the man through, but that would be too quick a death.

Instead, he flung his body against Maston’s, sending him reeling across the floor. Before he recovered, Blake slammed his fist across his jaw. Maston tumbled backward. The music halted. The chattering ceased as all eyes landed on the battling duo. Blake nudged Emeline behind him.

Instead of outrage, the Frenchman grinned, rubbed his jaw, and started for Blake.

Movement lured Blake’s gaze to the doorway. Not just any movement, but a familiar movement, a familiar visage. One that sent a whirlwind of confusion, desire, and anger through him.

All eyes swept to the intruder, including Maston’s, who halted, placed one hand on his hip, and smiled.

Dressed in tight leather breeches and a jerkin, both of which molded to every curve, a flowing rose-colored linen shirt, and a cutlass strapped to her side, the woman marched into the hall with the authority of a captain. Hair the color of black silk cascaded over her shoulder down to her waist, while eyes as sharp, lustrous, and as deadly as a leopard’s locked upon Blake. And just like a cat who’d caught her prey, she grinned.

Josephine Arnaud.

b

Emeline had barely recovered from Maston’s salacious insult and Blake’s heroic rescue when a woman caught the attention of everyone in the room. Including Blake’s. Not just any woman, but a rare beauty, an exotic beauty. The kind of beauty men only dreamed about and women envied. Despite being dressed in pirate attire, or perhaps because of it, she exuded a feminine charm, an allure that even set Emeline’s heart beating a bit faster.

Whispers sped about the room. Blake seemed unable to speak, and Maston, along with most of the men, grinned at her as if they’d captured a ship full of gold.

She sashayed toward Blake, her gaze shifting between him and Emeline, before she halted and gave him a seductive smile. “Blake, mon cher , I have missed you,” she said in a sultry French accent. “You are looking more handsome than I remember.”

“What are you doing here, Jo?” Blake’s tone was one of disdain.

She cocked her head. “As I said, mon amour , I missed you.” Her gaze shifted to Emeline and the sparkle in her eyes from only moments before turned to dust. “ Mais I see you have found another?” She scanned Emeline from head to toe. “Hmm. Rather plain for your tastes, non ?”

Anger welled at the insult, anger and shame. Emeline took a step back.

The woman gave a disgusted snort. “Run along, little mouse, back to your hole.” She flicked jewel-adorned fingers at Emeline before looping her arm through Blake’s and dragging him away.

Mind spinning and emotions in a whirl, Emeline stared after them, expecting Blake to turn about, defend her honor, castigate the woman for her affronteries. Was it not just moments ago he dashed in like a hero to protect her?

Yet as the minutes sped by and Blake, with the woman on his arm, moved farther away, forgetting that Emeline existed, she realized she’d been a fool to ever think she mattered to him.

Grabbing her skirts, tears burning in her eyes, she dashed from the hall, more determined than ever to make her escape tonight.