She allowed his embrace, enjoying the feel of his strength cocooning her, sheltering her. Could this man be the hero of whom she’d always dreamed?
“Blake.” Pushing from him, she gripped his arms. “I beseech you, give up this mad quest for the Ring.”
Frowning, he shrugged from her embrace and retreated to his desk. Picking up his glass, he took a sip.
“Don’t you see?” she continued, praying their love would be enough for him to change his ways. “The power you seek is all a delusion. It will corrupt you. It will never be enough, never give you the joy and peace you seek. Neither will it shield you from the betrayal of others, as you hope.” She gave him a pleading look. “Leave the Ring. Let it go. Take me home and meet my family. You’ll like them.” In truth, she hoped her father or grandfather could divert Blake onto a more godly path.
Tossing the rest of the rum into his mouth, he slammed down the glass. “But will they likeme? Besides, what would a reprobate like me do with a bunch of missionaries?”
She felt as though a boarding axe had embedded in her heart. “You don’t have to be that man anymore.”
He turned to stare at the moonlit waves out the windows. “You fell in love with this reprobate. Or so you say. I will not change for you or anyone.”
Emotion burned in Emeline’s throat. She forced back tears. “Then will you keep your promise to take me back to Jamaica?” For she knew now there could be no future between them.
He faced her, the affection gone from his eyes, replaced by pain and a resolve that would not be put off. “After I get the Ring. You have my word, Emeline, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”
b
Blake planted his boots on the heaving deck and gripped the quarterdeck railing as theSummonscrested a foam-capped swell. Morning sunlight cast swaths of golden lace upon both ship and sea, creating a masterpiece more beautiful than those hanging in his gallery. He smiled. Wind whipped over him, and he inhaled the familiar scent of brine and freedom. This was the life he’d chosen. Freedom to do what he wished and the power to rule the seas.
“Loose head and topsails!” he shouted, then gripping the lion medallion, he turned to Rummy. “Two points to larboard. Full and by.”
The helmsman nodded and adjusted course, while his new bosun Layton sent men up into the ratlines to unfurl tops for maximum speed. ’Twas a vast ocean to cover in order to find Josephine, but he knew her well, knew her haunts and hunting grounds. ’Twas only a matter of time before he found her.
He grimaced, forcing down his rage for the time being, reserving it for the witch—the witch who had used and murdered Maston, among many other vile things. Yet Blake’s anger at the Frenchman had abated the minute he’d ordered his body tossed overboard at dawn. ’Twas not a just fate for the simple crime of loving a woman, albeit the wrong woman, an evil woman.
However, Blake’s murderous thoughts vanished the moment an angel in blue skirts emerged from the companionway and made her way to the starboard railing. Her chestnut hair blew in silken strands behind her while every ray of sunlight diverted course and landed on her, glittering in her hair, shimmering across her gown, and sparkling over her skin as if she were not from this world.
Blinking, Blake cursed himself for the ludicrous thoughts. Then why did every one of his crew stop to stare at her?
“Back to work!” he shouted over the crash of waves and blast of wind. Still, she would not look his way.
For the first time in weeks, he’d slept deep and sound. No nightmares plagued him, no phantom demons infiltrated his cabin. Just as Emeline had said, ’twas the Ring which opened the gates of hell. Was it causing Josephine the same distress? He hoped so.
With all canvas spread to the favoring breeze, theSummonscut through the azure sea, plunging into the rollers and sending spray back over the deck in brilliant showers. Snapping hair from his face, Blake gripped the railing and closed his eyes, listening to the creak and moan of the ship, the dash of the sea against the hull. Music as soothing as any violin.
Emeline. Only her presence had controlled the dark side of the Ring, but he could no longer keep her prisoner against her will. She deserved so much better than that.
She deserved so much better than him.
Charlie approached the lady and leaned on the railing beside her and the two women began conversing. Their laughter bubbled over Blake like a soothing elixir as Bandit dropped from the ratlines beside them. Scooping him up in her arms, Emeline nestled her cheek against his hairy forehead, eliciting a wide grin and joyful screech from the beast. And a surge of jealousy within Blake. Absurd!
He looked away. He’d kissed her. Deeply and passionately. ’Twas like no other kiss he’d ever experienced, for it touched a part of him far deeper than his flesh, a part of him no one had ever touched before. Even worse, he’d declared his love! When he’d vowed long ago never to show such weakness again, never to put himself in a vulnerable position where he could be harmed, cast away, or betrayed.
TheSummonsleapt over a mighty swell, sending a spray of salty water over him, cooling his humor. By his admission of love, he’d given her power. And what did she do with it? She tried to convince him to give up his quest for the Ring. The most alarming part was that—for a brief moment—he’d wanted to. If only to please her. Scads! Her goodness was infecting him! And he must not allow that.
Pedro eased on her other side. Tousling his wavy hair, she gave him a hug. A hug? Pirates didn’t hug! Nay! As soon as he retrieved the Ring, he would honor his vow and take her home. Before his entire crew became a band of jingle-brained do-gooders.
Or worse, missionaries!
At that very moment, as if she sensed his thoughts, she glanced at him over her shoulder. The tender look she gave him, along with her gentle smile, nearly broke through his resolve to do anything but love her for the rest of his days.
Thankfully, “A sail, a sail!” trumpeted down from the lookout at the crosstrees, interrupting his dangerous thoughts.
Plucking the spyglass from his belt, Blake leveled it on the horizon, shifting it to the left when the lookout added, “Off the larboard bow!”
There, in the distance and barely discernable, were the swollen white curves of several sails. Too far to know to what ship they belonged.
