Master of moonspell a da.., p.18
Master of Moonspell (A Dangerous Hearts Romance), page 18
“He doesn’t anymore?”
“Ootay is lazy. You can’t depend on him. He hasn’t shown up for work in a year or more. I guess he’s living off the old woman.” He held the reins loosely. “If you give Seabiscuit his head, he’ll race home on his own. I’ll be a gentleman and give you a head start. Are you game?”
She reined Seabiscuit to face the right direction, but shrugged indifferently. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve already scratched up my face and I probably shouldn’t—” Then she dug in her heels, tore off her hat, and slapped the gelding’s rump. “You’re on!” she shouted into the wind, and heard Buccaneer’s startled curse.
Seabiscuit laid back his ears and snorted. The big gelding plowed scrub brush, pounded saw grass, and stretched over the ground in long, sleek strides. Green and gold flashed past Julienne as she clung to the horse’s mane and glued herself to his broad back. She heard the thunder of hooves behind her and knew that Buccaneer and Blaze were catching up and threatening to overtake them.
She yelled at Seabiscuit, urging him onward. Faster and faster they flew, but still the thunder rumbled behind them. Suddenly the grounds of Moonspell spread out before them. Seabiscuit’s muscles bunched beneath her and his ears pricked forward. Home.
Julienne slapped his rump with her hat again, and the wind whistled past her ears and flattened itself against her face to burn her eyes and throat. She glanced back and then whipped her gaze forward again, alarmed to find Buccaneer and the red stallion just off to the side. Gaining. He was gaining!
The fence hurried toward them, presenting a most perplexing obstacle. Julienne sensed Seabiscuit’s questioning and she tapped his sides, telling him to go over the fence instead of turning him toward the open gate. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Blaze veering toward that opening. If they could clear the fence, she’d win! Julienne gathered Seabiscuit’s mane in both fists and buried her knees in his sides. The big horse quivered, then he was up and flying. Julienne’s heart soared into her throat, cutting off her breath. For a handful of moments, she was weightless and the world was utterly silent. Then Seabiscuit’s hooves connected with the earth again, and the sky fell away with an alarming jolt that nearly unseated Julienne. Her breath jostled out of her, and her heart stuttered and began to beat again, pounding in her ears, flooding her veins with warmth.
In the blink of an eye, she was upon the stables and tugging back on the reins with what strength she had left. Seabiscuit reared up, then settled back on all fours, his sides heaving, his beautiful brown coat as wet as if he’d swum to the stables instead of flying there. Buccaneer arrived seconds later and barely waited for Blaze to stop before he dismounted and strode to Seabiscuit.
He reached up, his hands closing on Julienne’s waist, and pulled her off the winded horse.
“You’re insane, taking that fence the way you did! You could have broken your neck.” He shook her slightly. Although he wasn’t smiling, his tone was light.
“You have to take chances to win,” Julienne rejoined. “And I won.” She smiled up into his face. “It isn’t often you’re beaten soundly, is it?”
“No, not often … and never so pleasantly.” His gaze devoured her face, and he ran a hand over the tumble of her hair. “You go to a man’s head, little jewel.”
“To his head?” she repeated. “Not to his heart?”
“If a man had one, of course.”
She pressed a hand against his chest where his heart leapt. “What is that pounding in your chest, if not a heart?”
“Desire. Wild, barely fettered desire.” He stroked the pad of his thumb across her lips. His fingers touched the scratch on her cheek, and his thumb settled in the corner of her mouth. Instinctively she wet his thumb with her tongue. He quivered violently. His heart crashed against his chest, against her palm.
“I can hardly wait until our next adventure together,” she whispered, beginning to comprehend the power she held over him.
His attention fastened on her mouth. “Neither can I.” He leaned forward and his breath touched her waiting lips. Something snared his attention and he stepped back hastily, his hands slipping away from her. “Ah, yes, Danny. You can see to Seabiscuit, but I’m taking Blaze after I’ve given him a drink.” Buccaneer glanced at Julienne, and humor lurked in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I could use a drink myself.”
The stableboy gathered Seabiscuit’s reins and led him away. Buccaneer retreated slowly from Julienne.
“I’m going back to the tobacco fields,” he said. “I will see you at dinner tonight, mam’selle.”
“Until then, Captain.” Smiling, she placed her hat on her head and strolled toward the house. She felt his gaze on her the whole way.
Chapter 13
I used to think he would never hurt me, but now I’m not so sure. He looks so evil sometimes. He is a jealous man and he swears he’ll kill me before he allows another man to have me. I laughed, but I wasn’t laughing inside. He’s capable of murder, and it wouldn’t take much to send him over the brink. If I do one thing he doesn’t like, if I rebuke him or criticize him once too often, he could easily break my neck. I find this chilling … thrilling!
Julienne closed the diary and put it back in its hiding place. A shiver of revulsion raced through her. Magdalena believed that Buccaneer could murder her? She curled herself into the wing chair. The more she read of Maggie’s diary, the more troubled she became about how she should feel about Buccaneer LaFlamme. Allowing his advances might be the same as enticing Satan. Certainly he was a devil around Maggie. The difference between her and Magdalena was that Maggie liked the sinister streak and cruelty. To Julienne, Buccaneer was a reformed pirate, but Maggie’s diary contradicted her. The man Maggie knew didn’t make love, he raped and ravaged; and he didn’t want a partner in life, he wanted a love slave. Humiliation was his idea of a game, and violence wasn’t reserved for enemies.
The wind stirred the draperies, capturing her attention. Julienne pulled her wrapper more closely to her body and escaped outside. Fireflies winked in the night. She stood for a few minutes on the patio, drinking in the peacefulness of the grounds and the beauty of the night sky, then she heard a rustling nearby. Turning, she gasped when a shadow loomed before her, then took the shape of a man.
“Do not scream. It’s only me.” White teeth flashed in the darkness.
“Wh-Who?”
“Lorenzo.” He stepped into the light that sailed through the open doors. “I have been watching you. You have something I want, señorita.”
“Watching me? You mean, just now?”
“You are a beautiful woman. I love beautiful women, especially ones with bedroom eyes.”
Bedroom eyes? She hadn’t the foggiest idea what he meant, but it sounded dirty. She told herself not to let him know that he terrified her. “You have no business spying on me. I want you to leave me alone and stop following me or I’ll tell Captain LaFlamme.”
“What will you tell him?” he asked, propping an arm high on the outside wall, his hand dangling inches from her face. “Will you tell him that I want you just as much as he wants you? You should choose me over him. I will be good to you, and I haven’t had two women die on me.” He grinned and craned his face closer to hers. “Anybody ever teach you how to pleasure a man? I can show you, señorita.”
Julienne retreated to the open doors, afraid to turn her back on him. “I don’t find you amusing or attractive, Lorenzo. Good night.” She slipped inside and closed the doors. As she bolted them, she heard his fist slam against the other side, sending vibrations skittering through the wood. Julienne swallowed a shriek and backed away, expecting another blow that would shatter the bolt. After a minute, she realized he was gone and she relaxed. She was about to turn away when she heard the wolf’s howl. The moaning cry sent shivers through her. Just like at Spirits Cove, she thought. Lorenzo had been in the cave!
She’d explored that memory often, sometimes convincing herself it had been her imagination, sometimes that it had been Buccaneer playing tricks on her, sometimes that there had been another man in the cave with them that day. The wolf called again—Aaah WOOOooo. So lonely. So completely out of place. Was it Lorenzo teasing her, just as he’d done in the cave?
Someone tapped lightly at the door, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her startled scream inside. Swallowing hard, she set to mending her unraveling composure.
“Julienne?”
She smiled, recognizing Buccaneer’s voice. “Wait just a moment.” She belted her wrapper tighter and opened the door. Desire curled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him—disheveled hair, half-lidded gaze, bronze skin, muscled body encased in tight black breeches, loose shirt, and riding boots.
“Good evening.” She glanced toward the French doors. “Did you hear the wolf?”
“Wolf?” His eyes widened. “You heard a wolf? When? Where?”
“Outside. Just now.”
Without asking for permission, he pushed inside and strode to the French doors. Unbolting them, he pulled them open and went outside. Julienne followed, waiting for him on the patio while he went around the side of the Bride’s House. He came back within minutes.
“What is it, Buccaneer?”
“Who, you mean,” Buccaneer said. “Someone is howling around here, and I want to know who and why.” He moved back inside, waited for her to join him, and then bolted the doors again. “If you hear it again, tell me immediately.”
She nodded and thought about telling him she suspected Lorenzo, but decided against it, since she had no proof.
“I wanted to know if you’d be interested in a trip to Key West. I’m sailing there tomorrow for supplies.”
“That sounds wonderful! Alissa needs to get out more. Does she like Key West?”
“Alissa?” He beetled his brow. “I hadn’t thought … Alissa’s never been sailing or to Key West. She might not want to go with us.”
Julienne placed her hands at her waist and sent him an exasperated look. “The daughter of a sea captain has never been at sea?” She shook her head. “Well, it’s high time she sailed, don’t you think?”
“She’s a bit afraid of the water.”
“A bit afraid?” she echoed with a scoff. “Alissa is a bit afraid of nearly everything. My father always said that courage is found when facing fear. By the time we sail to and from Key West, Alissa will have found her courage and be in love with the sea, just like her father.”
He smiled, but not convincingly. His attention seemed to stray from her and he surveyed the room slowly, carefully, before he strolled toward the fireplace. Julienne tensed and held her breath. Did he know about the secret compartment and the diary? He ran a hand over the side of the mantel, his fingertips caressing the bricks—the brick—then lifting to a blown-glass vase holding hibiscus.
“Isabelle so loved this house. Her house. And the flowers. She loved flowers.”
“Did you ever love Isabelle?”
He shook his head. “No. Mostly I pitied her.”
“Why did …” She bit back the question, realizing it wasn’t her place to ask for private revelations.
“What?” He turned to face her.
“Nothing.”
“No. You were going to ask something. Ask it.”
“Why did Magdalena move in here?”
His eyes darkened to gunmetal gray, and muscles clenched in his jawline. “That’s not what I thought you were going to ask.”
“What did you think I’d ask?”
“Why I didn’t have my marriage to Isabelle annulled.”
She considered it and nodded. “That is a good question. Why didn’t you? She could have still become a nun, if that’s what she wanted.”
“Oh, that’s what she wanted, but our marriage was a business deal, and neither one of our fathers would have allowed us to renege. Even though Isabelle begged her father to dissolve the marriage, he refused. A deal was a deal. I knew Isabelle was unhappy, but I didn’t know how miserable she was until …” He turned away and caressed a hibiscus petal with a gentle fingertip. “She was so fragile.” He sighed and squared his shoulders. “You and Alissa meet me at the pier at six o’clock sharp and we’ll shove off.”
“We’ll be there, Captain.” She saluted him, and he smiled. “Which vessel will we be sailing on?”
“The Golden Conch.”
“Oh, good. That’s the sloop I haven’t seen yet.”
“Until tomorrow, then.” He paused on the threshold and looked back at her, his eyes suddenly dark, his mouth pulled down at the corners. “Maggie moved in here because she was afraid of me. I threatened to kill her with my bare hands,” he said softly, matter-of-factly.
Julienne’s lips parted in a silent gasp. A few moments passed before she could muster up her voice. “Kill her, why?” But he was already gone, closing the door behind him.
The Golden Conch sparkled on the water like a jewel. It was painted gold with black trim; its figurehead depicted a conch shell with a sea serpent emerging from it. Alissa hung back, but Julienne tugged firmly on her hand.
“None of that cowering, Alissa LaFlamme. You are the daughter of a sea captain and you will act like it. We’re going to be part of your father’s crew today, so look sharp.”
“I don’t wanna go. I could get killed.”
“You could, but you won’t. Want to know why?”
“No.”
Julienne looked heavenward for patience. “I’m going to tell you anyway. We will be perfectly safe because your father will captain our ship, and he’s a splendid sailor.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone says so.” Julienne spotted Buccaneer and waved at him. He rolled the rope ladder over the side of the sloop.
“Welcome!” he shouted.
“Permission to board, sir?” Julienne asked.
“Permission granted.” He held out his hands to navigate them onto his ship. “Careful now. You first, Alissa.”
Julienne had to push the child into his hands. He lifted Alissa into the air and then down onto the gleaming wood deck. Julienne slipped her hand in his and hitched up her skirts. She stepped onto the rope ladder, and Buccaneer steadied her as she climbed the two top rungs. Then he wrapped his free arm around her waist and lifted her up and over the railing. Julienne released a laugh of surprise. Gaining her balance again, she wedged her boater more firmly on her dark brown hair, which she’d piled high and secured with two strategically placed combs.
She’d chosen to wear one of her new dresses, the rose one with its apron front and lavishly full, pleated skirt to allow her liberated movement. Alissa wore a bright yellow pinafore dress, perky straw hat, and fearful expression.
“Papa, I can’t swim,” she said, yanking at his shirt sleeve.
“I know, that’s why we’re sailing to Key West.” Buccaneer chucked her playfully under her chin. “Why the long face, Lissa?”
“We could drown, Papa. Like Mama, we could die out there.”
Buccaneer’s gaze bounced to Julienne before returning to his daughter. He gathered Alissa into his arms. “It will be a grand adventure. You’ll see. You’ll have a wonderful time, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Alissa’s eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. “Why do I have to go, Papa? Why are you making me go?” She buried her face in the side of his neck, and he looked to Julienne for help.
“Captain, how many pirates and princesses do you know who have never been out to sea?”
He blinked, then caught on. “None, that I can recall.”
“Exactly. Wouldn’t you say that it’s the duty of the princess of Pirate’s Key to sail at least once?”
“Oui. It is your duty, Princess Alissa.” He bounced his shoulder, forcing her to raise her tear-stained face to look at him. “As your captain, I will protect you, princess. The sea can be a wondrous thing. Won’t you let me show you?”
A smile teased the corners of Alissa’s mouth. “Well … I guess.” She wiped away her shimmering tears. “I like it when you call me princess.”
He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “You are my princess. The princess of my heart.”
Julienne’s throat tightened with sweet sentiment and she averted her gaze from the father and daughter, feeling her own loss acutely. It had been ten years, yet she still missed her father’s kiss, his voice, his wisdom, his laugh. If she accomplished nothing else here at Moonspell, she wanted to mend the tear in Buccaneer’s relationship with Alissa. First she had to completely understand it. Someone wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Alissa wanted to love Buccaneer, but something or someone was preventing her from trusting him.
“Shall we cast off?” Buccaneer set Alissa on her feet, but kept hold of one of her hands. “You come with me. You’ll be my first mate.”
Julienne looked around, getting her bearings. Two men, dressed in knee-length black pants and red and white striped shirts, scurried to cast off lines and hoist the anchor. All across the deck were coils of rope. She touched a length with the toe of her shoe.
“Looks like seaweed strewn about,” she noted.
“Seaweed?” Buccaneer repeated.
“These ropes.”
“Ropes!” He shook his head, his expression censuring. “Begging your pardon, landlubber, but these are not ropes.”
She stared at the braided hemp. “Looks like rope to me.”
“That’s because you’re not seaworthy yet. A sailor never calls this rope. Each piece, each coil, has a name and a purpose. Stays, shrouds, braces, and so on. Each has its function.” He strode toward the bow of the ship, and Julienne and Alissa followed in his wake.
“I suppose those aren’t sails.” Julienne pointed to the sheets being raised into position by the crewmen.
Buccaneer glanced at the rigging and grinned. “Sails? The devil, you say. Those are the ship’s clothing.”
Alissa giggled and skipped along beside him as he took her on a tour of the ship. From time to time he glanced back at Julienne to share a comment or check on her progress. She enjoyed hanging back to watch him relate information to his daughter. Alissa gazed up at him with an absorption only possible between a child and parent. A sharp, sweet pain speared Julienne and she recalled Buccaneer’s prophecy that she would bear children. She dared not dwell on the possibility, she told herself. Remember, Carmella said nothing of children. That old witch spoke only of doom and gloom, of shadows and danger.
