Raven Quest (7 page)

She feared it never would be again.

Five

When Rory awoke, she looked out the windows over the bed. She guessed she had been sleeping about seven hours, for the sun was directly overhead. All signs of land were gone. She pushed herself away from the wall, trying not to think of what she had agreed to trade for her life.

She found a comb on the shelf and began to untangle her hair. There was no reason to wear the hot handkerchief over her braids any longer. Everyone on the
Vengeance
knew she was not a lad. She longed to wash her face but grimaced as she touched the bruise left by Yellow Hal.

Maybe in the cupboard. She went to it and opened the door. “Oh, goodness!”

A lavender frock hung there. Pinned to it was a folded paper with her name printed in bold letters. Her fingers shook as she unhooked the note and opened it.

Rory,

Please wear this. It is time for you to be the lady you should be. I hope you like it. The modiste told me it was fashionable.

Nathan's signature was as bold as he was.

Behind the dress hung petticoats. With delight, she stepped into the lacy petticoats and tied the ribbons around her. She pulled the dress over them. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she longed for a mirror. She touched the double row of lace that hid the hooks closing it. The sleeves ended in a ruffle at her elbows. The skirt was embroidered with silken flowers and split to show the lace on her petticoats. Her mother's locket glittered over the modest neckline.

A long piece of blue ribbon had fallen to the floor. She cut it into two uneven lengths and put her knife in its sheath under her skirt. The longer piece of ribbon she wound through her hair. The other she tied around her right wrist as the fine ladies of Port Royal did.

When she heard a bolt being thrown, she realized she had been locked in. Did Nathan think she would agree to what she had agreed to and then flee? Her sharp question evaporated in the heat of his gaze.

A smile uncurled along her lips as she discovered a sudden, intoxicating power. She had seen men looking at Olive and Caroline with this yearning, and she had seen the gifts those men had been eager to give them. “Good morning, Nathan”

“Good afternoon.” Grinning, he said, “In that dress, you look like the answer to a man's fantasy.”

“It's nice to be a woman again.” Letting her hips sway, which she had fought for the last two years, she stepped closer. “Thank you.” On tiptoe, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.

His dark eyes narrowed, and she knew he was suspicious of her ploy. “The dressmaker was curious why I wanted to purchase this gown and have it tailored to fit you.” With a husky laugh, he added, “No more breeches. I want to see you as a lady. As my lady.”

As his lips created soft melodies of ecstasy on her skin, her hands moved to his chest. When he took her hands in his, she glanced up in surprise to see his smile. He raised her fingers to his lips, and she closed her eyes to savor the pleasure surrounding her in a flush.

She forced the warmth aside. “Why are you locking me in here? I told you I'd stay. I don't go back on my word.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your word? Is that the only reason you are acting so sweetly?”

“I told you I'd do what you wished.” She drew away and offered him a frosty smile. “You're getting what you want, aren't you?”

Disgust crossed his face. “Don't think you are the most irresistible woman I've ever met. Although you look much better now, you're still an urchin.”

“Who has no interest in sharing your bed and your quest.” That was a lie, but revealing the truth of how she trembled at his fiery touch left her too vulnerable. She would not be so careless again.

“
And?
Does that mean you'll share one with me?”

She moved away from him. What game was he playing now? She had known the rules in Port Royal until Nathan came into her life with a whole new set. Running her finger along the windowsill, she said, “Maybe.”

“If you'll share only one, help me find the
Raven's
treasure.”

Her finger froze on the sill as pain riveted her. He wanted the gold more than he wanted her. Not that she should care. In fact, this should make things much less complicated. “Very well, Nathan. You'll have my cooperation in solving your puzzle. Nothing else.”

“I expected you'd say that, Rory.” He chuckled without humor. “That will be our bargain. I take you away from Warwick, and you help me find your father's ship while you sleep here and I bunk with the crew.”

“All right. No more than that.”

“And no less.” Holding out his arm to her, he said, “Let's go for a walk around the deck.”

“Walk?”

“Walk,” Nathan repeated. “You know. Placing your feet one after another. It's simple.” Taking her right hand, he placed it on his arm. He touched her wrist and said softly, “This looks lovely here. I'd hoped the shade of this ribbon would match your blue eyes. It's close, but I doubt if anything can mimic that color.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

“It's all part of a scheme. The gold is yours by right of inheritance. If I'm generous to you now, you'll feel obligated to give that gold to me when we find it.”

“And if we don't?”

All humor dissolved from his voice. “We must.”

“Why do you travel with so little in your hold?” Rory asked as she sat with her back against the mainmast. Her hair was tied with a single piece of ribbon but blew about her face in the sturdy breeze.

“We aren't traders.” Nathan leaned one hand against the mast and watched the men cleaning the decks. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Muir, check the bowsprit.”

The bos'n called from the upper deck, “Aye, Cap'n.”

“He's a hard worker,” Rory said.

“He is hungry for gold.”

“You're wasting an opportunity to finance your expedition. The merchants in Port Royal always look for honest captains.”

“Good!” When she stared at him in astonishment, he continued, “I don't want to be at some rich man's beck and call.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” he retorted. “Because I spent too much of my life answering to wealthy men who tried to tell me what I could plant and how much I could sell it for at the market.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Listen to yourself! You hate them, but you want to be just like them.”

“You're right!”

“Why?”

This time he did not have a quick answer. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.” Flinging out her hands, she went on. “Nathan, you've a grand life. Free to follow the wind. Free to seek your dreams anywhere you wish. You should realize how lucky you are.”

“Lucky? I've spent years chasing the
Raven.
I can't continue past the end of the summer. I'll have to sell the
Vengeance
then—the dream will die.”

“Why not gain more time by trading?”

He sighed. “I'll talk to Ernest about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” Ernest smiled.

Before Nathan could reply, Alfred called him to look at the supplies in the galley. Rory quickly explained to Ernest.

He shook his head in dismay. “'Twould kill the cap'n to do that.”

“Why?”

“If he does that, Miss Rory, he'll be admitting he'll never find the
Raven
.”

“I don't understand! You could have your search and make a profit at the same time.”

“You think that way, as do I, but he doesn't see it as we do. He told those he respected that he would follow the clues and become a wealthy man.” Ernest sighed and scratched his unshaven cheek. “They laughed at him when he left, and he vowed not to return until he could laugh at them.”

“Then he must sell his ship if he doesn't find the
Raven
soon.”

“Aye, that he must.”

Rory's exasperation grew while, for more than a fortnight, the ship sailed with no destination. Her frustration burst from her as she stood with Ernest and Nathan on the stern deck. “This is ridiculous!”

Exchanging a wry grin with Ernest, Nathan asked, “What is ridiculous?”

“All of this! ‘The blackbird of the dawn?' How do you know Stuart Powell didn't mean something other than me? He never knew me.”

“He knew
of
you.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

She tore herself away before he could remark on her trembling. It was both anger and fear—anger that her father would enmesh her in his horrid games, and fear that Nathan would sense her reaction to even the most chaste touch.

When Nathan leaned on the railing next to her, she said, “Maybe he knew of me or maybe not. Either way, he's probably laughing at us from hell.”

“What if it isn't a prank, Rory?”

“Then why hasn't the gold been found?”

His lips twisted up at one corner. “The sea is vast. Men die. Secrets are lost.”

Putting her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Father, if you can hear me, are you enjoying this?”

“Rory Mullins!”

She spun to face Ernest's fury. With his finger directly in front of her nose, he said, “Don't believe if you wish, Miss Rory, but don't disparage those of us who do.”

“How can I believe this? It's outrageous.”

“Most things are.” He jabbed his finger in his chest. “But I believe it.”

“I can't. You accept the story of a sailor dying in your arms, Nathan? How do you know he didn't describe his death dreams?”

Nathan grasped her arms and scowled. “We don't ask you to believe. We ask you to help.”

“Can't you see, Miss Rory,” interjected the first mate, “that your existence proves the riddle is correct? Powell may have left a dozen children, but I'm sure you're the only one with this name.”

“I don't know,” she said slowly. “I wish I could share your dreams, but I can't!”

Nathan glanced at Ernest, then said, “You may not, but don't forget that Yellow Hal Warwick does. How long do you think it'll take him to discover who you really are, Rory?”

She backed into the railing. She fought to control her panic. When Nathan put his arms around her, she clung to him like a child frightened by a storm in the night. He cupped her chin and smiled tautly. “Warwick won't find you, Rory.”

“I can't believe he would try to chase us when even you don't know where we're bound.”

“He wants the
Raven's
gold.”

“He's a fool!”

He sighed. “They whipped all dreams from you, didn't they?”

“I have dreams! But I don't want excitement. I had enough of that in Port Royal. I want a quiet life.”

Nathan turned and walked away. She wanted to call after him, but Ernest said, “Leave him be.”

“But—”

“You won't change him, Miss Rory.”

She knew Ernest was right. Nathan might treat her kindly and try to seduce her with his kisses, but he never wavered in his determination to find this gold and prove that he had not given up everything for a treasure that did not exist.

Rory went into the cabin and sat at the table. Staring out the window, she took a deep breath. Could Nathan be right? Could she have forgotten how to dream? No, she had her dreams. Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. If she dared to believe the poem would lead them to a fortune in gold, that might be the way to pay for her cozy house and garden.

But how to decipher the poem?

She leaned back in the chair. It was pleasant here. The windows over the bed were open to freshen the small cabin. Everything was wonderful except for her fears. She was terrified of Yellow Hal's greed, but her surrender to Nathan's urgent kisses frightened her more.

The sunlight flashed off something on the shelf. Rising, she picked up the box the Blindman had given her. She ran her finger along it gently. Not once when she had dreamed of putting Port Royal behind her had she considered never seeing the Blindman again. Only he had believed she could be more than she had been born to be. She had overheard her mother's cousin suggesting she be sold to one of the brothels, where he believed she would inevitably end up. She would prove him wrong.

She opened the cracked cover of the book the Blindman had given her. A Bible! Why had he given her this? As she turned the first page, she knew.

To Kassy,

on your tenth birthday

Love, your grandmother

May 7, 1663

God bless and keep you always

This had been her mother's. Kassy Mullins had been younger than Rory was now when she died in childbirth, so Rory had no memories of her mother. No fond recollections of soft touches and loving lullabies. Her fingers toyed with the pages. Odd that the Blindman had given the book to her after all this time and that he never had mentioned he had it.

She frowned as two pages stuck together. “Oh, my!” she whispered when she saw the psalms printed on the pages. Throwing the door open, she called, “Nathan!”

He waved from where he stood with a crewman by the prow. She fought to be patient, but it was impossible. When he came toward her, he put his hand on her cheek and tipped her face up to kiss her.

Pulling away, she gasped, “This isn't the time, Nathan.”

He chuckled. “It's always the time to kiss you.” He bent to whisper in her ear, “Why don't you stop telling me no when you know your heart says yes?”

“Forget about kissing me!”

With a laugh, he swept her into his arms. She slapped his arm with the Bible.

“Rory, if you're trying to knock some sense into me—”

“Will you please be serious for a moment?”

He placed his lips against her neck. “I thought I was.”