Read Online Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress by Judith E. French - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith E. French
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not decided if I’m going to tell you or not,” he answered seriously. “I’ve not made up my mind about you yet.”
Her pulse quickened as he gazed at her with sharp appraisal. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to brush back a stray lock of windblown hair. “Ye don’t mean to head for France, then, do ye?”
His brow furrowed. “You are the hardest-headed woman. You don’t listen to a word I say.”
“I listen,” she replied sharply “but I’m not your servant. I’ve a mind of my own.” A shiver passed down her spine. Whatever he was doing to make her feel so strange was unnatural, and the sooner she got away from him the better. “I’m not used to taking orders from a man.”
“So it seems.”
“While you’re thinking—and a hard task it must be—might I have your leave to wash my own hair?” He nodded, and she took the bucket and drew up sea water. Leaning over the low rail, she poured the salt water over her head, scrubbing as best she could without soap. When she was done, she sat down and leaned against the mainmast and ran her fingers through the tangled strands, letting the clean wind dry her hair. All the while she watched him, without letting him know she was doing so, and tried to think how to take back the Silkie without killing him.
James glanced over at the faint shoreline to be certain he was holding his course, then went back to watching Lacy. She was an enigma. Of all the women he’d known—and he’d been acquainted with his share—he’d never met any like her.
She was smart and tough with a ready tongue. What’s more, all that sassy personality was tied up in a face and body as sweet as any he’d ever yearned after. The crazy thought crossed his mind that such a pretty bird might not make a bad shipmate, but then he mentally pushed it away.
He’d fought his way across a green hell for a prize that still eluded him. Memories of that rich treasure had been all that had kept him alive when he’d seen his companions taken out and hanged. Nothing—least of all a woman—would stand in his way now.
He’d sailed from Port Royal, Jamaica, following the captain of his ship, Matthew Kay, and the leader of the expedition, Henry Morgan, to take revenge on the Spanish, who’d been at war with England for years, and to seize a city full of gold. Now, all those who’d sailed with him on the Miranda were dead. He was the only one left with a claim to the treasure, and he meant to have it. If he lived and gave up the quest, it would be as if they’d all died in vain.
No, by God and all that was holy! He meant to take this little vessel and sail her back to the Caribbean. He meant to have the gold or lose his life in trying. And if anyone, Henry Morgan included, tried to keep him from what was rightfully his, he’d see them in hell.
It was where he was bound for anyway ... James inhaled deeply of the salt air. One night in Condemned Hold, when his sanity had been stretched so tight that he thought he’d lose his mind, he’d been burning up with fever. Fever so hot that he began to hallucinate. And during that madness, he’d seen the devil and made a pact with him. Give me the treasure, and twenty years to spend it, and you can have my soul for all it’s worth to you.
He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and stared back at the frothy blue water. Arawak Island was halfway around the world, close to five thousand miles from London. A man would have to be a lunatic to try and reach it on a boat like this ... and even crazier to think of sailing there with a whore he’d known for only two days.
“Did you really sail with Henry Morgan?” Lacy asked. “Or is that another empty boast?”
His eyes widened. “Are you a witch that you can read my thoughts?” She paled as though he’d slapped her, and he softened his tone. “No need to panic. There’s none here to drag you to the stake. I did but jest.”
“Witchcraft is no joking matter.”
“I’m not a
Her pulse quickened as he gazed at her with sharp appraisal. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to brush back a stray lock of windblown hair. “Ye don’t mean to head for France, then, do ye?”
His brow furrowed. “You are the hardest-headed woman. You don’t listen to a word I say.”
“I listen,” she replied sharply “but I’m not your servant. I’ve a mind of my own.” A shiver passed down her spine. Whatever he was doing to make her feel so strange was unnatural, and the sooner she got away from him the better. “I’m not used to taking orders from a man.”
“So it seems.”
“While you’re thinking—and a hard task it must be—might I have your leave to wash my own hair?” He nodded, and she took the bucket and drew up sea water. Leaning over the low rail, she poured the salt water over her head, scrubbing as best she could without soap. When she was done, she sat down and leaned against the mainmast and ran her fingers through the tangled strands, letting the clean wind dry her hair. All the while she watched him, without letting him know she was doing so, and tried to think how to take back the Silkie without killing him.
James glanced over at the faint shoreline to be certain he was holding his course, then went back to watching Lacy. She was an enigma. Of all the women he’d known—and he’d been acquainted with his share—he’d never met any like her.
She was smart and tough with a ready tongue. What’s more, all that sassy personality was tied up in a face and body as sweet as any he’d ever yearned after. The crazy thought crossed his mind that such a pretty bird might not make a bad shipmate, but then he mentally pushed it away.
He’d fought his way across a green hell for a prize that still eluded him. Memories of that rich treasure had been all that had kept him alive when he’d seen his companions taken out and hanged. Nothing—least of all a woman—would stand in his way now.
He’d sailed from Port Royal, Jamaica, following the captain of his ship, Matthew Kay, and the leader of the expedition, Henry Morgan, to take revenge on the Spanish, who’d been at war with England for years, and to seize a city full of gold. Now, all those who’d sailed with him on the Miranda were dead. He was the only one left with a claim to the treasure, and he meant to have it. If he lived and gave up the quest, it would be as if they’d all died in vain.
No, by God and all that was holy! He meant to take this little vessel and sail her back to the Caribbean. He meant to have the gold or lose his life in trying. And if anyone, Henry Morgan included, tried to keep him from what was rightfully his, he’d see them in hell.
It was where he was bound for anyway ... James inhaled deeply of the salt air. One night in Condemned Hold, when his sanity had been stretched so tight that he thought he’d lose his mind, he’d been burning up with fever. Fever so hot that he began to hallucinate. And during that madness, he’d seen the devil and made a pact with him. Give me the treasure, and twenty years to spend it, and you can have my soul for all it’s worth to you.
He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and stared back at the frothy blue water. Arawak Island was halfway around the world, close to five thousand miles from London. A man would have to be a lunatic to try and reach it on a boat like this ... and even crazier to think of sailing there with a whore he’d known for only two days.
“Did you really sail with Henry Morgan?” Lacy asked. “Or is that another empty boast?”
His eyes widened. “Are you a witch that you can read my thoughts?” She paled as though he’d slapped her, and he softened his tone. “No need to panic. There’s none here to drag you to the stake. I did but jest.”
“Witchcraft is no joking matter.”
“I’m not a
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