Though she gave him a curious glance, silence, save for the whisk of wind and crash of waves, spanned between them.
“I have a sister too.”A gust blew strands of her light hair into her face.Snapping them aside she faced him, her tone growing somber.“She’s very sick and I need to get back to her.”
He arched a brow.“Then perhaps you should not have snuck aboard my ship and stolen my Ring.”
She flattened her lips.“I didn’t… Oh, never mind.”Huffing, she waved a hand through the air.“Go ahead, cut my hand off, feed me to the sharks, or whatever you pirates do.But I must get back to her, to my life.”Her voice caught with emotion.
Caleb had one fatal flaw, an overwhelming weakness for a lady in distress, especially a comely one.It had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to admit.
Hence, against his better judgment, he announced, “When I determine your innocence, you have my word that after I complete my mission, I will take you home.Wherever that may be.”
She frowned.Sunlight shimmered in streaks through her hair, and he wondered at the length, for no lady he’d met kept so short a coiffure.
“Miami, Florida,” she said.
“La Florida?That is your home?”Suspicion prickled his skin.’Twas Spanish land, enemy territory.Could this woman be a spy?“I know not this Miami.”
Her eyes shot to his, anger flaring within them.“Please stop.Please.If this is all some twisted joke, I beg you to stop.”Releasing the railing, she rubbed her temples as if they pained her.“Either that or please wake up, Desi, wake up!”
The wind nearly stole her whisper, but Caleb heard it nonetheless.Could this woman truly believe she lingered in a dream?
Liam slid on her other side.“Are ye causing this lovely lass pain, Cap’n?”He winked at Caleb.“Perhaps I can tell her an Irish tale or two to cheer her up.”He leaned toward the lady, but she was still rubbing her temples as if somehow doing so would transport her back to this Miami.
“Return to your duties, Liam,” Caleb ordered.
Liam shrugged.“I have none at the moment.”
Finally, the lady glanced toward the Irishman.
Without hesitation, he took her hand in his and planted a kiss upon it.“Liam O’Neil at yer service Miss… miss…”
“Miss Starr.”Caleb shoved between them.“Back to work, Liam.”Though constantly arguing with Caleb, the man was harmless, a good bosun.He was one of the best sailors aboard.The kind of man who could rig sails in a hurricane and knew every inch of theSentinel.But he had a penchant for ladies, particularly those loose in morals.
A fact yet to be determined with this woman.
Wind shifted, snapping the sheets above them.
“Brace up the yards!”Alden shouted from the quarterdeck.
Caleb faced the lady again.“How did you get the Ring?”’Twas the one question eating at his soul.Even if she had sneaked aboard, even if she was a Spanish spy, how did she know where the Ring was hidden?
Her jaw tensed, staring over the sea as if its waters held the answers.“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“A sail!A sail!”A shout blared down from the crosstrees.Rot and Ruin!Caleb hated to end the conversation when he seemed to be making progress.And he couldn’t leave the woman on deck unescorted.Not with the way his crew was ogling her.
“Then until you answer my question, I have no choice but to lock you below deck and hand you over to the authorities when next we make port.”
Chapter 8: No Dream At All
The lantern’s flame flickered, as if holding its breath against the damp, musty air of the hold.Barrels of salted pork and crates of musket shot loomed like silent sentinels, their shadows warped along the wooden beams.In the furthest corner, cloaked in shadow and silence, Ayida Noire knelt beside a battered crate, a tattered cloth spread before her like an altar.
She hummed under her breath—low, guttural, and pulsing with ancient rhythm.From the folds of her apron, she drew a tiny leather pouch and emptied its contents—a dead black beetle, three rat bones bound with red thread, a lock of hair—Caleb’s—and a pinch of ash from the stove.
She whispered ancient words as her fingers moved deftly, weaving the bones into a crude figure with twine, binding it tightly with hair and ash.Grabbing a small vial, she uncorked it, releasing a rancid, iron-tinged stench into the air.She smeared the foul liquid over the rat-bone talisman and held it aloft.
“Let dem come, swarming in shadow… bring rot an’ fear to dis vessel,” she breathed, her voice rising.“Let de captain lose sleep, let him doubt his course.Let his men whisper o’ curses…an’ force him to’ de island.”
A gust of unnatural wind whispered through the timbers.The lantern sputtered.
