Emeline gave a ladylike snort. “Foolishness! I am his prisoner.”
“Hmm.” Jo tapped one of her long fingernails on her chin. “Regardless, I do believe if anyone can get him to remove that dastardly Ring, it is you, my dear.”
Instantly, the woman’s features softened. Jo smiled. That imbecile Maston had been right. This prig cared for Blake and, from what Jo had seen, he returned the sentiment. The suggestion had been planted. Now it was up to the woman, for it would be far easier to merely steal the Ring when off Blake’s finger than put a hex on him and hope it worked this time.
Chapter 25
F
urious, Blake pounded on Josephine’s chamber door. He’d sent two of his fiercest pirates earlier that morning to escort her to her boat and ensure she rowed back out to her ship. He’d also ordered the men manning the cannons on either side of the bay where theSummonswas anchored to be on high alert should the vixen be foolish enough to attempt an attack after she boarded her ship.
But she hadn’t boarded her ship. Hadn’t even left the house. Instead, he’d found the two pirates wandering about the garden, laughing and smelling the flowers like flighty butterflies. When questioned, they had no remembrance of any orders to do much of anything. Blake had locked them in the guardhouse to enhance their memory.
Yet he began to wonder at his own memory, for he’d not slept in two nights. Not since the rain started and Emeline had dashed from his bed chamber. She’d been the only one to stay with him, care for him, after he’d injured his head. In return for her kindness, he’d been rude, harsh even, when she’d asked him to remove the Ring. But he couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that. Not for anyone. Hence, ashamed and feeling like the knave he was, he’d left her alone, didn’t demand she play her violin or keep him company during the night. And for that, he’d suffered terribly in her absence.
“Josephine!” He pounded the door again.
It cracked to reveal an insolent grin beneath a seductive gaze. “Oui?”
“What did you do to my pirates?”
One dark brow rose as she opened the door. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You turned them into goose-brained ninnies.”
“Moi?” Pivoting, she sashayed back into the chamber, perhaps to hide her smile. “You give me too much credit. I am a mere woman.”
Blake’s jaw tightened. He knew she dabbled in the dark arts, had seen books of spells and chants in her cabin long ago. Yet he’d never put much weight in such fanciful fables of otherworldly power.
Until the Ring. The odd thought struck him.
She spun, her long silky hair twirling about her. A few strands splayed gracefully upon the exposed crests of her bosoms above her leather jerkin. He shifted his gaze away.
She must have noticed and mistaken it for interest. “If you close the door, Blake, we can—” she glanced at the bed—“enjoy the afternoon together. Like old times,oui?”
Oddly, his body did not respond to the notion. His stomach did, however, as a bitter brew simmered within it.
Grunting, he gripped the hilt of his blade. “Gather what you brought. I’m taking you to your boat if I have to hoist you over my shoulder and drag you there.”
Seemingly unruffled, she chuckled. “Oh my, that does sound like fun.” She moved toward him, eyeing him up and down like one would assess a purchase.
Her scent of rosewater and the sea wafted around him, choking him. Halting, she lowered her gaze to his lips and licked her own. A slight moan of desire spilled from them as she leaned in for a kiss.
Blake shoved her back. “I am not the naïve lad you seduced into your web. You have no power over me anymore, Jo. Now gather your things.”
Stumbling, she caught her balance and glared at him with eyes that grew darker and more malevolent by the second.
“Très bien. I see you have made your decision.” She walked toward a desk in the far corner where a candle burned beside a dish, several bottles, and a large book.
Blake grew impatient while she fumbled with the objects, pouring liquid from one to another, and then capping and placing others in a pouch. Rays of afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, along with a salty breeze, but neither helped chase away the heaviness in the air.
Jo began mumbling something, almost singing, but without a tune.
“Let’s go!” he shouted. “I’ll not wait another moment.”
She continued chanting as she placed her items in the pouch and blew out the candle.
“Ready.” Turning, she raised both arms and then dropped them, flinging her fingers in his direction.
