Corsair Cove Page 14

  Jacque said nothing but lifted a perturbed brow in wait. Sid continued, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you mean anything but a good time to that one.” He nodded toward the doors leading out to the pool. “Esa’s had the wooly cushion of money her entire life. She can have whatever she wants. Men are but a sport for her. Are you hearing me? She thrives on toying with men—and there’ve been many I can assure you. One minute she pretends she’s as sweet and innocent as Sandra Dee and the next she’s turned into Heidi Fleiss. But, make no mistake my friend, before she’s finished, you’ll think she’s Lorena Bobbitt. Better turn tail and run before she gets a death grip on your most prized possessions.”

  Jacque gaped at Sid as though his brain was the size of a bean. What the hell was he babbling about? Who were these women he mentioned? Was this his feeble attempt to insult Esa? His eyes narrowed accusingly. “Ye dare to slander Esa?”

  “Slander?” Sid laughed. “No, wouldn’t dream of it. Look, I know we got off to a bad start. I don’t know what she told you about our relationship, but the woman’s a man-eater. She took everything I had to give. She held my heart in the palm of her pretty little hand and squished it like it was but a measly grape. I’m just trying to save you from the same pain pal. Once you’ve fallen beneath her spell, she’ll use her feminine wiles to bleed you dry, no shit. Wait and see, she’ll do the same to Rafeull.” He threw his hands up, adding, “You do what you want. I just thought I’d warn you as you seem so involved.” With an indifferent shrug, Sid spun on his heel and trotted toward the elevator.

  Never mind witnesses, he ought to snatch the oaf up right now and throttle him till he turned purple! But, what if, just what if, Sid spoke the truth? Women were a conniving lot, to be sure.

  Sid surely didn’t sound like the beloved fiancé. Why would Esa say she was going home to her betrothed if it were a lie? And who exactly was this Rafeull she spoke of? She’d told him he was to take over the family business. Was it true? Had her trickery given rise to her father’s decision to entrust his company to a stranger? “Hold ‘er there,” Jacque called and Sid stopped and faced him again.

  “Are you and Esa betrothed?”

  Sid snorted. “Were. At least, I thought we were. But it would appear she’s moved on. As I said, it’s a game to her. You’ll see. You’ll be standing in my shoes if you hang around long enough, pouring your heart out to some unbelieving fool—no offense. She did it to the guy before me, but I was too much in love to want to believe it. One day, you’ll walk into a hotel room, and she won’t be alone. And then you’ll know. It’s all part of the act.”

  “Act?”

  “She told you we were still betrothed?”

  “Perhaps I misunderstood.” Why was he standing here listening to this biased man? Because you’ve played the fool before, that inner voice reminded him. Besides, the wench had been sending him contrary signals all along. Perhaps that too was part of her act.

  “No, she’s only trying to make you jealous. It’s only the first spin of the web she’s set on trapping you in.”

  Could it be true? To hear this man tell it, he should get as far away from Esa Keats as he possibly could. Hell, her last name alone should send fireworks up in his head. He’d fair better chances of finding his treasure, and keeping his wits about him, without her unnerving lattice of lies.

  On the other hand, what if Sid was lying out of vengeance? Was this his way of getting revenge? Or getting back at him for pummeling the lanky brute earlier? Something didn’t set right with the story. It was plain to see the fabrication weaved throughout his woeful tale.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jacque left in pursuit of Esa.

  He hated to admit it, but Sid’s words lay heavy on his heart. He didn’t want to believe such vile things about his rescue angel. But, above all else, he must remember, she was a woman.

  Woe-man, labeled as though a personal warning from the Creator Himself.

  ~ * ~

  “Esa?”

  The toe curling tone slipped from inside her head, calling her out of a delightful dream. Her eyes fluttered open. Her breath caught as she realized she was outdoors. When had she drifted off?

  Dropping her feet from the railing, she slipped into her sandals and caught a glimpse of the lofty shadow hovering beside her. She gasped when she made eye contact with the alluring form. Smoothing a hand over her hair, she spouted, “Jacque, what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said so softly she barely heard him. Curiosity caused her to look up again. A pang of guilt pinched her conscious when she noted the concern marring his expression.

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m a big girl, in case you haven’t noticed. I can take care of myself, contrary to popular belief.”

  “Avast, ‘tis not fit for a woman to be out at such an hour in lack of a proper chaperone.” He sounded somber, as though his sole duty in life was to protect her.

  “So you’ve come to chaperone me, eh?” She smiled and saw his features relax in return. God, she could get lost in those mystical eyes.

  “Aye.” He glanced at the night sky before his gaze settled on her again. “These are ripe hours for a harlot. A respectable woman should be at home, tucked beneath layers of satiny coverlets, under the watchful arm—eye of a chivalrous knight.” He smiled playfully and she laughed.

  How did he know her bedding was satin? The thought of him anywhere near her bed caused her heart to pick up it’s rattled pace. Good grief, this had to stop.

  It was impossible to stay upset with him for very long. He had a way of making her forget her troubles, if only for a little while. “I’m sorry, Jacque. Did I wake you? How did you know I was here?”

  “The door to ye private quarters was ajar. I thought it a personal invitation to bury my stick. Imagine my disappointment when ye weren’t there.”

  He was teasing. In his own way he was letting her know she’d injured him earlier. She giggled. “I’m sorry; I guess I was a bit harsh before.” Not that she hadn’t meant every word. The blonde she’d seen at the pizza parlor flashed in her mind and rage stamped out whatever desire had been ignited by his commanding presence.

  He smiled and dipped his head. “Apology accepted.” Beefy arms crossed over his chest and he leaned against the railing, looking like some GQ cover model with only a few buttons holding the white cotton shirt closed at his waist, accentuating that marvelous washboard tummy and V-shaped torso. “In sum, I was concerned when I could not find ye and a clever fellow pointed me in the right direction.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep, but I’m sure I won’t have any trouble now so I can go back up. Ready?”

  He nodded and waved a hand for her to proceed. “After you.” He bent forward slightly before that sexy grin returned to taunt her.

  “You better get some sleep yourself, you’ve a big day ahead of you.” She paused to glare at him then whipped her head back toward the breezeway, chin thrust high. “Unless you’re meeting your girlfriend.”

  Jacque’s heavy footfalls came to an abrupt halt behind her. “Girlfriend?”

  She stopped. Pretending it made no difference to her, she turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, you know, what was her name again? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. You’re a free man. At least in this century.” She chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget, you’ve a big day ahead.”

  “Indeed. As do you, mademoiselle. I’m quite certain you’re fiancé will be pleased ye’ve resolved to crawl back to him.”

  “Crawl? Crawl?” Her entire body went rigid in her flaring rage. “I do not crawl LaFleur! Not that it’s any of your damned business.”

  “Ah, ‘twould appear I’ve struck a nerve.” Those bulging arms braided over his chest as he assumed that superior stance. “Tell me lass, who is this Rafeull? A lover? Odd that ye lover shares the name of ye father’s beneficiary, do ye not concur? Odd indeed, or perhaps, convenient.”

  Esa actuall
y felt her blood begin to percolate. Had she ever been more infuriated? She wanted to slap the insult from her malefactor’s face. How dare he imply such a scandalous deed!

  Suddenly, she could hear Sid making the same allegations in her mind. Good god, they were both raving lunatics.

  “How dare you! I don’t owe you any explanations. This may come as a shock to you LaFleur, but not everyone lies. I told you I’ve never met the man before. And I don’t appreciate the subtle accusation. Why would you say something like that?”

  “Curious, I suppose,” he said free of expression while extending his arm toward the entrance once again. “After you, Cherie.”

  After a moment of muted reprimanding, she stomped passed him and headed for the elevator, cursing all men in the process.

  ~ * ~

  Jacque couldn’t sleep. Esa had long retired and not a sound came from her chambers. He flicked on the television but lost interest when he discovered the pencil and paper in a small drawer of the table. A thrill of excitement shot through him. For other than the sea and a bottomless tankard of Jamaican Rum, there’d never been a better escape.

  His mind breathed a sigh of relief as he shaded the dark lead over the small blank sheet and Esa’s face began to take shape. It started as a soft silhouette, and fleshed into her very likeness as passion took hold of his hand. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d craved this moment. When he could capture such timeless beauty on canvas.

  He only craved one thing more, the feel of her skin beneath his, their bodies entwined as one as they shared a spark in time. While his fingers shadowed the soft arch of her brow, he couldn’t help but reflect on their disagreement near the pool. Much to his surprise, the lass had been telling the truth about Rafeull.

  He almost wondered if she possessed the ability to lie. Almost. He laughed, for she was a woman after all, a deceptive creature by nature. Look what happened to Adam, the very first man when he allowed his woman to roam about freely.

  And if Esa was telling the truth, then Sid had boldly lied in his face. His molars ground together. He clutched the pencil a little harder. What was Sid up to? He’d had a sense of deception when they’d spoken, but wasn’t clear as to its exact birth. And he was almost sure Charles Keats had felt it too.

  Still, the lass planned to return to him. He could see it in her eyes. Would the shifty rat hurt her once she was free of his protection?

  Perhaps he should convince her to accompany him to Guadeloupe after all. On the principle of her safety, of course.

  ~ * ~

  Esa awoke early and showered while Jacque slept soundly on the sofa. She toyed with the idea of tagging along on his treasure hunt just to annoy him. If she thought he cared one way or the other, she might be more than a little tempted do just that. But he didn’t care. She could fall off the face of the earth and Jacque LaFleur wouldn’t even notice. Fear she’d run off with his money was all that had sent him searching for her last night, she was certain.

  The conversation she’d had with Jeff yesterday assured her that Jacque wouldn’t be lonely. He’d informed her of a young couple that had recently inquired about traveling to the Islands and wondered if she might enjoy their company.

  Thrilled for the distraction they would offer, she’d agreed to the additional pair, not that she thought of her and Jacque as a pair by any means! Jeff promised to make sure there were enough provisions to see them through to the next port. So she needn’t worry about being alone with him if she decided to go. Which she hadn’t—wasn’t.

  She only wished she wasn’t looking forward to the once in a lifetime adventure. To hunt for authentic pirate treasure with a genuine pirate would have to be the ultimate getaway!

  In fact, it was the only thing that had been able to distract her since the untimely death and heart wrenching betrayal of her father. At least until Jacque had managed to ruin it for her by goading her into changing her mind. And isn’t that what he wanted? For her to remain behind? He carried some two hundred year old phobia of women and ships.

  His ship, he’d called it. Esa snorted, it was her ship. Reality struck her like a falling brick, constricting her air flow.

  It wasn’t her ship, either.

  The ship, as well as the rest of her father’s generous fleet, belonged to one Mr. Rafeull. “Damn it, Pops, you should have told me!” A tear trickled down her cheek and she brushed it away. He should have prepared her for such a traumatic blow. How could someone that supposedly loved her more than anything else in the world leave her in such a destructive manner?

  She wiped away another tear, not wanting to think about her father just now. It only depressed her, and she was depressed enough to fill a stadium with a script of Zoloft.

  Hadn’t she come here to escape the chaos? Since the vexatious Jacque LaFleur had entered her miserable life, her life had become a tornado of confusion. Suddenly, all of her thoughts revolved around him. She would be glad when the barbaric bulk was out of her sight once and for all. Happy when she could go home and be with Sid.

  Tiptoeing through the living room, her eyes fell on the papers scattered on the carpet beside the sleeping giant. Had he been writing something? Her head tilted to one side and she edged toward the paper trail. She smiled for he’d been doodling. Creeping closer still, she crouched down and snatched up the drawings before scurrying back to the room like a frightened mouse scrambling for the feigned shelter of his hole in the wall.

  Leaning against the closed door, Esa looked at the paper and her mouth fell open. A chill enveloped her as her own image gazed back at her. Jacque did this? Had immortalized her on paper? Goosebumps broke out along her arms. She swallowed, amazed by the beauty beheld in her hands and taking extra care not to wrinkle the frail sheet as she lowered herself onto the bed.

  History never mentioned the man was an artist.

  Why? It was obvious by looking at the sketches the mysterious interloper possessed a rare gift. Butterflies swarmed in her belly like bees around a hive. She studied every line of the first drawing. It was so similar an image that she might well be looking in a mirror. It was her face all right, only it was beautiful beyond words.

  Did he really see her this way?

  A dark curl looked as if it might blow off the paper as it dangled from her forehead. She appeared upset, but not really, almost as though she were pretending. Fascinating. How could anyone capture such emotion with a mere pencil and notebook paper? The shading added such contrast, brought such life to the small portrait she thought to sweep the annoying curl off her forehead. She’d never seen anything like it.

  The next page saw her standing near the pool, her bust and hips were a bit over exaggerated and she thought for a moment he was making fun of her shape, but the expression on her face caused her heart to give a thud.

  It described perfectly how she’d been feeling over the last few weeks. Hurt, betrayed, confused, afraid…and so frighteningly alone. An open hand reached for her from a corner of a picture, but she seemed to shun its muted comfort. “I want you to promise you won’t touch me.” Her own callous words burned her ears. Tears streamed down her cheek as she moved to the next drawing.

  This one saw her standing in the midst of what appeared to be a rather large Schooner. The Sainte-Anne? The ship was at sail. She could almost hear the ocean slap the sides of the powerful vessel. She wore a dress similar to those she’d seen women wear in his time and was leaning near the rail looking out over the sea. The wind seemed to dance with the sails, she could almost hear them flapping in the breeze. It was so lifelike a person might think to step inside the sketch.

  Her waist looked frighteningly small, but once again, his imagination had gone wild with her bust and hips. But she was smiling as if she were the happiest woman in the world.

  In reality, her smile wasn’t that brilliant. But was she really that round? She ran a hand along her hip in inspection. “Pretty damn close.” She grimaced, analyzing her smile in the mirror.

  The b
athroom door shut and her heart fell. Damn, had he discovered his pictures missing? Pulling the door open, she dashed over to the sofa and repositioned the papers along the floor as precisely as she could remember then rushed back into her room. She had enough since to stay burrowed in the bedroom while Jacque showered and dressed.

  ~ * ~

  After they’d loaded the rental car and turned in the hotel key, they grabbed some breakfast and headed toward the bank to retrieve Jacque’s money. Afterward, she would unload him at the harbor and catch a plane home.

  Why should that depress her?

  Jacque broke the awkward silence between them as she parked in front of the bank. “Lass, I know I’ve no right to ask it, but would ye be kind enough as to hold me resources until I return? If it turns out the treasure is not there, ‘tis all I have in the world to get by on. I don’t want to risk losing it,” he pleaded, sorrow lingering in the corner of those mesmerizing almond shaped eyes.

  Well, when he put it that way, how could she deny him? And Lord only knew she wanted to deny him, wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with his resources. But she didn’t. She resisted the urge to check the rearview to see if the word SUCKER was plastered across her forehead.

  “All right Jacque.” She searched her purse and pulled out a notepad, scribbled her number on it and handed it to him. “Find a phone and have someone call this number when you return and I’ll see that you get your money.”

  She forced herself to keep her eyes on the road. Damn, how much dumber could she get? This entailed seeing him again. Why should her soul leap for joy at the news? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

  His eyes branded her and she felt her face flush with nervous heat. He didn’t take his eyes off her. Why was he staring? Studying her profile for future sketches perhaps? And just what had he done with the other pictures?