Page 23 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

“ I should lock you in irons,” Blake seethed. “How did you get past my defenses?” He allowed Jo to pull him aside, if only to get her away from Emeline. He’d learned from experience that the woman’s tongue was sharper and deadlier than any blade. Her disdain for all living creatures—save for herself—would no doubt inject poison into Emeline’s pure heart. And he could not allow that to happen.

“Why, Blake, chéri, put away this bad humor. I know you are happy to see me.”

Halting, Blake faced her. “Again, how are you here? How did you find my island?”

She leaned toward him, her familiar scent of rosewater invoking memories he’d long tried to forget. Memories of pleasures he’d not known existed, a love and bond he’d thought unbreakable, and an unbearable torment that had nearly destroyed him.

“All the brethren know about your island, Blake. You forget who taught you about defenses.” She smiled sweetly, seductively, and gave him a look that once had sent him to his knees, groveling for favors and willing to do anything she wanted.

Instead, her smile fell flat onto the floor beneath them.

Frustration brewed, and he turned, intending to escort Emeline back to her chamber to safety so he could deal with this vixen.

But the lady was gone. And all light and life abandoned the room with her.

Or perhaps ’twas Jo’s presence that leeched all joy and goodness away.

Even so, the banquet hall had grown unusually quiet as every eye remained upon them.

He gripped Jo’s arm. Tight. Happy when he saw her flinch, he dragged her from the room, out the open French doors, and onto the portico.

Releasing her to face him, he gripped the hilt of his cutlass. “How did you get onto my island undetected? Tell me now!” For he had every inch of coastline well-guarded.

With a snort, she flung her silky hair over her shoulders and gazed over the dark jungle. “There is but a sliver of a moon, and I rowed in a small skiff by myself.” She shrugged. “No doubt your men merely missed me.”

“Where is La Sorcière ?”

“Anchored not far off the southeast corner of your little paradise.” She gave a devious grin. “Never fear, my crew have orders to stand down.”

“Stand down? Pish, woman! My gunmen will sink her before she could fire a shot.” Something about her story bristled, for the lady had never been on good terms with the truth.

Crossing arms over his chest, he studied her. Even ten years older than he, she was still the comeliest woman he’d ever seen. Or was she? No doubt ’twas her exotic beauty that had first attracted him. That and her promise to teach him how to fight, captain a ship, become a formidable pirate. And, as she had so enticingly put it—transform the boy into a man. Yet as she stood smiling at him now, with starlight transforming her ebony hair into silver-kissed silk, her full lips, high cheek bones, and striking eyes, not to mention the crests of her bosoms peeking at him above her tight jerkin, he oddly found all desire he’d once felt for her melting into a forgotten puddle.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, keeping his harsh tone.

“I told you.” She pouted and gave him sad eyes. “I missed you. I wanted to apologize—”

“For leaving me stranded on that spit of land? Without a morsel of food or drop of water?”

Shrugging, she waved her jeweled hand through the air. “I knew you would survive.”

“Did you?” At the time, Blake hadn’t been sure whether he’d die of starvation or a broken heart. Both equally deadly.

“Well, here you are, non ?”

“I want you off my island forthwith.” Stiffening his jaw, he narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have my men escort you to your boat—if that is even true—and you will row out to your ship and sail away. Do you take me?”

“I’d love to take you. Do you not remember those many nights…?” She sidled up to him and whispered, “That one night when we…”

Blake shoved her away before she could finish the salacious memory. Even so, his body reacted to her words, and he hated himself for it. She’d found him a young man of only sixteen working at the docks, barely surviving, and she’d seduced him into her web of licentious wickedness. At the time, he’d been more than eager to partake of her fruits, more than eager to learn everything about pirating, about being a man and commanding a ship.

She’d promised they’d be together forever, sailing the world’s seas, hoarding all its gold, and living like a king and queen.

Until the day she grew bored of him and found another young man to play with.

“Don’t be so cruel, Blake. I have come to regret leaving you.” She pouted. “I have not found your equal in all the Caribbean.”

He gave an indignant huff. “I am not the innocent fool you once knew.”

“ Non . I don’t believe you are.” She gestured toward his ear. “You wear the black pearl I gave you. You still think of me, non ?” A sly grin curved her lips.

“Never.”

Sighing, she cocked her head. “ Alors , I have a proposition for you, Blake.”

“I want naught to do with you.” He started away to summon his men.

She grabbed his arm. “Hear me out. Why not join forces? Word is you are set to conquer more lands, gain more wealth and power.”

Was it his imagination or did her gaze flicker over the Ring on his finger?

“You’ll need more than one ship for the task, non ? You’ll need a fleet. Therefore, I am offering a partnership.”

He shook his head, jerking from her touch and eyeing her suspiciously. “I recall how our last partnership ended.”

“As I said, I have come to regret that. Will you not forgive me?” Her mesmerizing eyes shifted between his.

“Nay. I will not. Nor do I need you or your ship.” He rubbed the Ring, wondering if he could use it against her. “Now, I insist you leave.”

She took a step back, defeat finally tugging upon her beautiful features. “In the middle of the night? Do allow me to stay. I promise to leave in the morning.” She drew close, rubbing against him. “For old times’ sake? You owe me, Blake.” She drew her full lips into another pout.

“For what?” he spat back.

“You would not be the captain of a ship, nor have wealth, nor this island, nor any hope of power without my—how do you say?—tutelage. You’d still be working at the docks in Barbados, dousing your sorrows with rum each night.”

Blake swallowed. Her words were true enough. But he’d more than paid that debt long ago. The only thing left to her credit was the lesson she’d taught him to never love or trust anyone ever again.

“Come now, Blake. What can one woman do against an island full of men? Put a guard on me if you want.”

’Twas like locking a tiger in a cage made of parchment. “Very well. One night. If you dare defy me, Jo, I’ll not hesitate to have you drawn and quartered.”

One side of her lips quirked in a charming grin. “Oh, you do know how to stir a lady’s heart.”

b

Emeline paced her chamber. Back and forth, back and forth over the lush Turkish carpet, onto the polished wooden floor, up to the mahogany wardrobe, then spinning, retracing her steps to her bed. She had waited for the sounds of revelry to fade, waited for the island’s inhabitants to sneak off to their beds, waited for naught but the sound of wind and wave and an occasional whippoorwill to grace her ears. Nerves aflame, all she needed to do now was wait until well past the usual hour that Blake would enter her chamber. Once that passed, as she was sure it would since the brigand had the ravishing dark-haired lady to attend to his needs, she could easily slip out of the house and find her way to the fishing boat.

At least she hoped she could do so in the dark. Still, ’twas the perfect time to make her move with this unforeseen distraction entering the equation.

Boot steps pounded the tile in the hallway. A door creaked open, then slammed moments later, the thrust of it shaking the walls. Blake had returned, no doubt besotted and, from all indication, angry.

Inching up to the door between their chambers, Emeline listened for the sound of a female voice, a murmur, a lover’s whisper. Nothing aside from a groan and the creak of a bed made its way to her ears. If Blake was alone, it wouldn’t take long for the demons to begin their torment and him to require her presence. Pah. She’d have to wait a while longer.

b

“You wish me to seduce him?” Josephine set the lantern on a table in her chamber—the one where Blake had imprisoned her with a single guard outside. A single guard! Pff! An insult.

It hadn’t taken Maston long to find her, send the guard off on some duty, and enter the room.

Drawing her close, the popinjay kissed her neck, inhaling her perfume with an intoxicating groan. “That should be no trouble. I see the way he looks at you. The way every man looks at you.”

Josephine smiled at the compliment. “But I only want you, mon amour .”

Maston wrapped his arms around her. “After this, we will be together forever.”

Or until she grew weary of him, which was fast approaching now that he’d served his usefulness. How fortuitous to have run into the fool, Maston, on Basseterre. Even more fortuitous had been to lure him to her bed and discover he was the bosun on board Blake’s ship, the Summons . Imagine her surprise at hearing that the young cockerel had survived being deserted on an island, and even more surprising was his success, his island, and the tale Maston told about a mysterious Ring Blake had gone to great lengths to acquire in a card game. All information the French fop happily conveyed in the throes of passion. Solomon’s Ring ! The ancient artifact coveted by all who dabbled in the mystical arts. It must be the one. Rumors had circulated throughout the Caribbean that it had been found. And though her powers as a witch were great, she must possess it. She must!

Thus, she expressed her undying love for Maston, along with her interest in the Ring, and he leapt and yapped and groveled at her feet like a puppy willing to do her every bidding.

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and caressed his hair. “How am I to get it from him?”

“Do you have the laudanum I gave you?” he asked.

“ Oui , in my pocket.” Little did the fool know she’d added a potion of her own.

Excitement with a hint of desire sparked in his dark eyes. “Put it in his rum. Insist he drink it before he beds you. Then, wait until he drifts off to sleep, and you’ll have your chance.”

With a feminine sigh, she pushed from him, turned, and sashayed away, a move she’d made dozens of times with dozens of admirers. She must never appear too eager, too forward. Men like Maston enjoyed a challenge. His strong arms curled around her waist from behind, and he leaned to kiss her neck once again.

“I’m mad with love for you, Josephine.”

“Then let us get the Ring and rule the world together.”

b

Hot! Why was it so hot? The crackle of flames pressed against Blake’s ears as searing tongues licked his skin. His eyes popped open. He stood on the edge of a jagged cliff. A black cloak blanketed the sky where nary a star could be seen. One peek over the side revealed yellow and red flames leaping and cavorting into the night from a molten lake bubbling like a boiling pot of crimson stew.

Horrified, he backed away. Into something solid. Reaching for his cutlass, he spun. No hilt met his fingers. No human met his gaze. At least not a living one. A black skeleton stared at him from hollow gaping holes where eyes once had been. Flesh began to grow over bone, slowly at first, like tar over oakum, then faster, filling in gaps with muscle and veins.

Blake started to dash around the horrifying figure. Dozens of gray shifting specters appeared, moaning obscenities, forcing him back. Behind him, the molten lake, before him loathsome ghouls. More flesh took form over the bones, eyes filled sockets, nails on fingers, and finally hair appeared.

“Hello, little mongrel.” His father smiled wickedly.

“Leave me alone!” Blake roared, charging past the man toward the demons. Better them than his father. Or the lake of fire.

His father clutched his arm, digging nails into his skin. “You sent me to hell! Now you will join me!” He dragged Blake to the edge of the cliff. Fighting with all his strength, Blake punched, kicked, and clawed, but to no avail against his father’s otherworldly power. One final push sent Blake careening over the side…falling…falling toward the searing flames.

“Nay!”

Blake sat up in bed. Sweat moistened his forehead and neck. Breathing hard, he swung his legs over the side and dropped his head into his hands.

He needed Emeline. Hang it. He needed her!

Pushing to his feet, he raked back his hair and started for her chamber when his own door creaked open. With lightning speed, he plucked his cutlass from the table and charged forward. “Who goes there?”

“Only me, mon amour .” The feminine French accent scraped over him. A sour taste rose in his mouth.

His door shut, and the curvaceous figure slithered his way. “Do put down your blade, Blake. I have not come to fight. Quite the opposite.”

Groaning, Blake set down his sword and lit a lantern. Josephine stepped into the light, a tiger on the prowl, a rather scantily dressed tiger wearing naught but a sheer night dress that left little to his imagination.

He narrowed his eyes, limiting his gaze to her face. “Did you seduce my guard?”

She fingered a strand of her silky black hair. “Did you truly believe one little guard could keep me from you?” Her smile was bawdy, predatory.

Snorting, he looked away, searching for his rum. Indeed, he should have known. “Go back to your chamber, Jo.”

She inched toward him and slithered a finger down his arm. “The desire in your eyes defies your words.”

Jerking from her touch, he found his rum and poured a glass. Was the vixen right? Did he still desire her, even after her betrayal? Nay, even though much time had passed since he’d enjoyed female company, even though a most alluring one stood before him, even though admittedly, his body reacted slightly to her touch, he found that his heart, his soul felt naught but repulsion.

He faced her. “You no longer captivate me, Josephine. Return to your chamber, or I’ll have you locked in the guardhouse.”

Frowning, she fluttered her long lashes like she used to when she wanted something from him. “Very well, Blake. I’m not one to beg. However, let us have one last drink together.” She nodded toward an empty glass beside his full one. “For the times we once shared?”

Suspicion etched down his spine. Still, what harm would it do? A quick drink and she’d be gone and then he could open the door to Emeline’s chamber. Emeline . Even with this half-naked woman standing beside him, ’twas Emeline who invaded his thoughts.

Only one sip remained in the bottle. He moved to the sideboard and grabbed another. Yet when he turned around, he thought he saw Jo slip something into the pocket of her nightdress. No matter. There was nothing of value here to steal.

b

Emeline leaned her ear against the door, clearly hearing Josephine’s accent. Heart folding in on itself, she backed into the darkness. What did she expect? Blake was a pirate with the morals of a goat and Josephine was the most beautiful woman Emeline had ever seen. Besides, ’twas obvious from their encounter earlier that she and Blake knew one another—had no doubt been intimate in the past.

Ignoring the twinge of jealousy, Emeline moved to the window where a night breeze swept in, cooling her skin and sifting through her hair. It did naught to assuage the fear, heartache, and anger bubbling in a tumultuous brew in her belly. In the distance, dark clouds gobbled up the moon, casting gloomy shadows over the land—just like her fading dreams for a true gentleman, a hero to sweep her off her feet.

Every time she thought there was hope for Blake to become that honorable man, he shifted back into his old ways. When would she learn? Hadn’t her father always told her she was far too na?ve, too trusting, and always kept her head in the clouds?

She must take this opportunity to leave. Blake would be occupied for quite some time, and the rest of the house was fast asleep.

Turning, she gathered the money and gun from the drawer, stuffed them in a small sack she’d found, and started for her door. She’d already mapped the best way out of the house unnoticed and the most unguarded way through the jungle to the fishing boat.

She reached for the door handle when a crash sounded from Blake’s chamber and a chilled mist enveloped her. Halting, she shivered, staring at Blake’s door. Why had the air suddenly grown so cold on such a balmy night? Not only cold, but a heaviness fell upon her, a malevolence that nearly shoved her to the floor.

Breath heaving, she flung a hand to her throat and crept toward Blake’s chamber door, listening for voices or movement from within.

Pray .

The unspoken voice blared within her. A command, an urging she could not deny.

Pray .

A dark mist slithered underneath the door into her chamber, snaking around her shoes, winding up her legs. Air seized in her throat. When she glanced down, it was gone. Yet the icy cold remained. And she had no doubt. Evil was present on the other side of this door.

Pray .

Emeline obeyed. Taking a step back, she closed her eyes and appealed to Almighty God for His protection over Blake, over her, and for victory over the evil presence.