Corsair Cove Read online

  Esa didn’t miss the cab driver scowling in the rearview as Jacque pulled and tugged, fastened and unfastened the seatbelt on the way to the hotel. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “What happens in the event of a conflict? Is one to be trapped like fish in a trawler’s net?” he asked with such innocence it reminded her of a worried child.

  His acting skills were flawless. Eyeing him skeptically, she felt compelled to play along. “In the event of a conflict, that seatbelt just might save one’s life.” Good grief. Why did she even stoop to his level by answering the absurd questions?

  In a blend of horrific wonder, she found herself wanting to believe him. For as surreal as it seemed, there was a naiveté about his inquisitiveness, an authenticity in his mannerisms that just couldn’t be part of an act, no matter how skilled the actor.

  “I’ll see if there’s an extra room at the hotel, you look like you could use some sleep. I know I could. I’ll phone the office in the morning and see what charters are available.” She lowered her head and gazed at the large ruby cupped in her hand. It was exquisite. And here she was, holding something this extraordinary without a security guard hovering over her shoulder. It only added to the fairytale-like feeling that had come over her since encountering the mysterious stranger.

  Never had she seen a more radiant stone. Nor a more intriguing man.

  The glistening gem brought to mind the myth of the mammoth blue diamond rumored to be in her family for generations. The Devil’s Diamond, so named for the numerous deaths left in its wake. Namely, anyone venturing to declare it their own. Though she’d never personally seen the cursed jewel, never believed the frightful tale, the illusive heirloom was believed to be in her cousin’s possession. Her relatives believed in the curse so much that her Aunt Cindy refused to so much as talk about it. Staggering, how a legend could shake a person through generations of fear.

  If the diamond truly claimed the lives of those wanting to posses it, how was it their family had survived at all? What made fathers want to mystify their children with frightful family fables?

  But there was no doubting the tangible reality of the one in her hand. Where had the brawny buccaneer acquired the mystifying artifact? Was he a rich man’s son? Or, maybe an eccentric millionaire himself? No, his nails were much too dirty, his beard too unkempt. Still, he could be a wealthy man that got his kicks out of playing theatrical games.

  Or, even more frightening than anything else she could conjure up: he could be telling the truth.

  She toyed with the ruby, rolling the cool smoothness between her palms. A few calls to the more prominent jewelry stores should give her a feel of it’s worth. It was whole, pure and sparkled from every natural angle. How many of these precious stones of perfection were left untouched in the world?

  “I’m sure we won’t have any trouble finding a jeweler interested in purchasing this little beauty.”

  Jacque remained quiet beside her. Had she said something wrong? Was he sad about losing his ruby? When she turned to ask him, her heart came to a standstill. She hadn’t noticed, but he’d stopped fumbling with the seatbelt and ashtray at some point and was gazing at her as if attempting to solve a puzzle. Dreamy eyes smoldered with lusty mischief and sent her heart aflutter. She felt her face flush and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as the precious stone in her hand.

  “W-What are you looking at?” she asked, practically choking on the words. Did he think she would steal away with his magnificent jewel? Why not? He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. What was she getting herself into traipsing about with some odd fellow she’d met less than twenty four hours ago—and one freshly sprung from jail? And the way they’d met! The man could be a rapist, or a mass murderer for all she knew.

  Her father was probably doing summersaults in his grave.

  “Why have ye resolved to help me, mademoiselle? Ye believe my outrageous tale?” Jacque’s expression was thoughtful, even charming. No, he wouldn’t hurt her. “I have to admit, I’m having a terrible time swallowing it myself.”

  Did she believe him? How many times over the past hour had she asked herself that very question? How many times had Burk’s words taunted her thoughts? No I.D., no social security card, no visa, no green card, no missing persons, no reports of stolen jewels…just a rare ruby and seemingly genuine Letters of Marque. And if they weren’t his, where did they come from?

  Perhaps he’d never been in any trouble, thus untraceable without his real name. She dismissed that line of reasoning as the disturbed man oozed trouble from every pore of his heavenly being! And what about the silly tale about the curse? Something he’d spun up on the spur of the moment in his feeble attempt to scare her and take off with her ship, no doubt.

  “Mr. LaFleur—”

  “Jacque. Please lass, if we are to be comrades over the course of the coming weeks ye may as well do away with the formalities, aye?”

  “All right, Jacque. No, I don’t believe it. But I’m almost convinced you do. As far as why I’m helping you, I guess I just need to get away, get my mind on something else for a while. I can’t explain it, but sailing has always helped me think.”

  “Ye miss ye pappy, lass?”

  “Hmph, like you wouldn’t believe. Even after what he did…” she trailed off, not wanting to talk about the details.

  Dark furrowed brows penetrated her soul. “What he did?”

  She sighed. “My father left the family business, a business that should have been mine, his only child, to a total stranger.” Even to Esa, her tone carried the sting of the angry lash of a high sailing whip.

  She paused to take a breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to dump on you, I don’t even know you for chrissake. It’s just that, in a matter of a few weeks, I’ve managed to lose everything I ever wanted, everything I ever loved. My hopes, my dreams, I have nothing. Not even Hobie.”

  “Hobie?”

  “My dog, a Chinese pug. My father gave him to me after my mother died. He passed only a few weeks before my father. All that’s left for me now is my job at the museum, and my fiancé. And I’m not even sure I have those,” she paused, throwing a frustrated hand in the air. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I love working at the museum, but I never expected it to be my life’s work. The shipping industry is in my blood, the pace that sets the beat of my heart. He knew how much I loved it. It’s not fair that I should have been left with...” She caught herself just in time, relieved she’d not revealed the pending fortune her father had willed her. Not that she wouldn’t have gladly given up all the money in the world in exchange for the business, but here again, she didn’t know Jacque from Adam.

  Did he already know? Was there meeting by chance, an accident of fate? Or part of a meticulous plot to break what was left of her heart as well as her approaching inheritance? Perhaps that’s how the cunning swindler obtained his wealth, by seeking out shattered well-to-do women and stealing them blind. With his staggering good looks, this thief of hearts could easily be a professional conman and a player. Lord knows he certainly knew how to play her!

  Honestly, time-travel? Stretched the imagination a bit to read it in a book or watch it on the silver screen, yet here he was, claiming it as truth. Utter nonsense.

  A scowl creased the renegade’s forehead. His brow was raised in a knowing arch as he watched her, waiting for her to finish.

  She cleared her throat and shivered, wondering for the second time if he were able to read her thoughts. For crying out loud, he’s not Superman! Albeit her wayward libido begged to differ. Amending her previous broken statement, she made a feeble attempt at a smile. “It’s just not fair.” Jacque nodded agreeably, encouraging her to continue.

  “As if pulling the rug out from under me wasn’t enough, Pops left me with one final duty: I am to see that the new innkeeper gets settled in comfortably.” She growled. “If my father could be cold enough to slap me with such humiliation and betrayal after his death, why on earth would he thi
nk I’d agree to such a foolish arrangement and see Mr. Rafeull contented? Lord knows, I don’t want to make it easy on the cad. I shouldn’t do it. I should just leave and start over somewhere else, someplace where people won’t look on me with pity, won’t point and gossip about why I was unfit to be left the family business.”

  Jacque snorted and her head snapped in his direction. “Ye sound like a pirate I used to know.” He wasn’t looking at her, but absently flipping the ashtray open and closed.

  Then, with a smile that could charm the wool off a goat he looked askew at her and uttered, “Why such ill-will toward someone you’ve never met?”

  “Met? Hell, I never even heard of the marauder before the reading of the blasted will!” Flashing a sheepish grin, she slipped out the side of her mouth, “No offense, Jacque.”

  He merely shrugged and she continued, “And do you think this Rafeull had the nerve to appear at the reading? Hell, no he didn’t. He had a representative sit in because he was detained in gay ‘ol Par-ee!”

  “You might feel differently once you’ve met the new commander.”

  Her head jerked toward the sultry purr. She’d just opened her mouth to tell him what she thought about a meeting with the mysterious commander when she saw the muted laughter wafting from his eyes. He was toying with her, as though he actually found humor in her outrage.

  Only then did she grasp how foolish, how desperate and cold hearted she must sound. “Er, perhaps we should change the subject.” With a crooked smile, she added, “Besides, who wouldn’t want to search for buried pirate treasure?”

  “Indeed,” he replied, recoiling back into his hard shell.

  ~ * ~

  Esa was not prepared for the response of the desk clerk once they returned to the hotel. “I’m sorry Miss Keats, the only available room was rented several hours ago. We’re booked solid through the next week.”

  “Thank you,” she replied wearily, inwardly cursing the festival. She’d be glad if she never saw another pirate again in her life. Now what was she to do with her time-traveling companion?

  It had been a long night. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head and forget anything else existed for the better part of the next day. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind returning to his beach bunk until daylight. Unfortunately, not only was her body well cushioned, but her spirit was even softer. Whether a crazed or criminal, she didn’t have it in her to send him off alone. As foolish as it seemed, she didn’t think he would hurt her. In fact, she had a passionate feeling he would protect her with his life, should the need arise.

  He yawned, the simple act lifting a weight from her strained shoulders. Surely he was as exhausted as she. Considering the hour, what harm would it do to allow him to share her suite for the remainder of the night? After all, they’d soon be sharing a small yacht. He could sleep on the sofa; she’d have the protection of the locked bedroom door.

  But could she trust him not to read more into her kindness and attempt to reenact the sizzling scene on the beach? Better yet, could she trust herself to thwart him if he tried?

  She studied at him. A predatory gleam danced behind mesmerizing black sapphires, matching the sinister smile that had erupted onto his smug mug. Good grief, she couldn’t even look at him without getting all hot and bothered!

  Groaning, she pulled him aside. “Look, if I let you sleep on the couch, will you promise me you’ll keep your hands to yourself? As a matter of fact, I’d like to have your word that you’ll not touch me for the duration of our time together.”

  Jacque’s expression went from one of a frolicsome puppy set loose in a box of old shoes, to one of being scolded for piddling on the floor. Shoulders resembling a balloon having just brushed a sharp edge, he took a moment before answering. When he finally did speak, his voice was teasing and resembled rich, melted chocolate, “Ye’d accept the word of a reformed pirate?”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, just forget the whole damned thing! I don’t know what I was thinking. Find your own way home. Good night and good luck Mr. LaFleur. Sorry I even bothered.” She started to turn when he captured her arm.

  A prudent brow lifted in concern and Jacque released her as if her skin were on fire. Crossing powerful arms over his thick chest, he stated, “Aye, lass. We’ll play by your rules.” He nodded as though adding his signature to the statement and smiled like the Cheshire cat. “For now.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Should she feel fear or the anticipation of an unfulfilled promise that wisped through her at that moment?

  The lopsided grin disappeared. He almost looked sincere. “Avast, I vow not to lay my hands on ye tonight, or for the remainder of our excursion. Unless, of course, ye ask me to.” His head dipped in a muted promise.

  Esa tore bewitched eyes away from his sensual stare and practically sprinted toward the elevator. “Somehow that declaration doesn’t do much to ease my apprehension.” She’d said it low enough that he shouldn’t have heard her, but she could tell by the devilish chuckle as he caught up to her that he had.

  He was looking at her; she felt his eyes travel over every curve, leaving her skin to smolder in their destructive path. She dared a glance over her shoulder and winced. The seduction in his eyes held both a promise and a warning. She didn’t know which was more lethal.

  Jacque leaned close enough that she felt hot breath on her neck and whispered in a slow guttural tone, “Forbidden fruit is always the tastiest.”

  Her knees nearly buckled. She gave a sigh of relief when the sharp ding of a bell announced the arrival of the elevator. Suddenly very warm, she refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge his last remark, no matter how true it might be as she stepped into the confined compartment, determined she and the silver-tongued Corsair would remain strictly business partners.

  Nothing more.

  The elevator began to move and Esa thought she would surely lose control of her bladder. Jacque’s face reeked of stunned horror as he recoiled in the corner; his knuckles chalk white as he clutched the small metal railing in a death grip. Trying hard to control her laughter, she assured him he was safe and found herself explaining the function of the elevator through her snickers, which seemed to do little to calm his rattled nerves.

  The rib-tickling ride finally came to an end and Esa escorted the shaken sex-god down the lengthy hallway toward her suite, offering words of encouragement along the way. Jacque’s mouth fell open when she withdrew a small card from her purse and slid it into the slot to open the door.

  He didn’t utter a word though his eyes resembled tea saucers when she flipped a switch, causing a ray of light to vanquish the shadows of the lavish hotel room. Once again, the eccentric foreigner appeared genuinely awestruck by the marvels of the twenty-first century.

  Pointing to the sofa she stifled a yawn with the back of her free hand. “You can sleep there, I’ll grab a pillow and blanket for you.” Smiling to herself, she disappeared into the next room. If his terror-stricken appearance were any clue as to her safety, she could sleep with the door wide open and be perfectly all right.

  With a backward glance, she decided it was probably best to close and lock the door anyway…just in case.

  ~ * ~

  Jacque dropped onto the oversized settee and sank deep into its irresistible comfort. “Ahhh,” he sighed. This, he could learn to live with.

  The lass’ quarters were more polished than one’s he’d been in earlier. The other wenches had used an actual key to enter their brothel, something he was accustomed to. But not Esa, she’d used a thin strip of what looked like a piece of layered parchment. Incredible!

  Who could he share his fantastic voyage with once he returned to his own time? No one would believe him. In fact, they’d lock him away for the remainder of his days if he dared breathed a word of the strange yet wonderful things he’d seen. That is, if Louis’ thugs didn’t get to him first.

  And what the hell was that contraption that caused his stomach to flutt
er and his head to feel dizzy as though it sat amidst the clouds? His heart still palpitated from that horrid experience. Esa reappeared in the next instant with bedding materials in tow.

  “Here you are. The bathroom is just beyond that door.” She tipped her head in the appropriate direction adding, “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Jacque LaFleur.” With a soft chortle, those curvaceous hips disappeared into the next room.

  The click of the lock brought forth a knowing smile to his lips. Good thing he was too tired to prowl, else that sweet little morsel would require more than a measly piece of wood to keep him out.

  He yawned, uncertain whether he was more tired or hungry. Fatigue triumphed over hunger as his nose neglected to pick up the scent of anything edible and it didn’t seem likely the lass would sleep in the kitchen, therefore no food was to be had anyway.

  The heavenly scent of his rescue angel lingered in the lavish room. Fresh and clean with just a hint of rose petals that stirred a different kind of hunger within him. Yet with the cursed promise she’d bound him to looming like an ax over his head, he knew he’d not be able to quench that particular craving tonight.

  He slipped off the soft leather boots before proceeding to the rest of his clothing. Once settled into the opulence of his makeshift bed, he surrendered to exhaustion in the soft solace of paradise.

  ~ * ~

  Bright, blinding sunlight assaulted the room. Damn, she’d forgotten to close the curtains. Feeling the bite of a hangover but cheated of the thrill of deserving it, Esa groggily made her way to the bathroom. Her eyes traveled along the creamy carpet in search of the lavatory, slowly rising to the coffee table and falling upon the massive lump draped casually and oh so beautifully along the sofa.

  She froze.

  As if a dam had caved, yesterday’s memories flooded her mind. Jacque Lafleur.

  How could she have forgotten such an unforgettable character? A temporary lapse of sanity, she mused, her senses instantly, painfully and oh so deliciously alert. Funny, the suite had seemed much more spacious before this compelling figure arrived. He slept with one long leg tossed carelessly over the back of the sofa. The thin blanket barely curtained his most intimate body parts, leaving his broad sculpted chest exposed and Esa salivating enough to water a small garden. The curly mass of dark hair on his chest narrowed just before trailing a path down his washboard stomach and disappearing beneath the blanket.