Pirate Wolf Trilogy (114 page)

With the stomacher laced so tightly, her
breasts were pushed up to form two pale mounds, which looked and
felt ready to burst over the edge if she leaned the smallest bit
too forward.

"I can barely breathe," she gasped.

"That will make two of us then." He gave the
laces a final tug and reached for the bodice of rose silk
embroidered with hundreds of tiny gold flowers, each with a pearl
sewn in the center. The bodice was no higher than the stomacher and
she realized he had forgotten to add the lace under-bodice.

“I didn’t forget,” he said casually when she
pointed out the omission. “I prefer it without.”

She looked down, seeing nothing but bare
pink skin.

Just as on his doublet, the sleeves had to
be attached under each arm by a series of ribbons threaded through
eyelets. They were striped pink with wide bands of gold to match
the underskirt, the cuffs trimmed with froths of delicate white
lace seeded with more pearls.

When he was finished attaching the second
sleeve, he stood back to inspect and her cheeks flamed under the
scrutiny. She could not lower her eyes without appearing to stare
at the way his hose fit his legs, nor could she look up and meet
his gaze—or the crooked smile that told her he knew why she would
not look down. The compromise was to simply close her eyes.

Gabriel was just as happy that she did. The
bedraggled waif with the rat’s nest of yellow hair and big green
eyes was gone, and in her place was a slender, beautiful woman who
was making the blood flow hot and sluggish through his veins.
Worse, he was having second thoughts about setting her out before
Muertraigo like bait; the man would have to be deaf, dumb, and
blind not to swell out of his codpiece when he saw her.

Eva Chandler was doing a good job of putting
up a brave front these past few days, despite everything she had
been through. Indeed, he knew of few others who could have survived
alone for two weeks on a plague ship, then come aboard a second
vessel full of strangers and still stand tall and brave and be
willing to do whatever was asked of her.

He knew the reason for her compliance lay in
the hope that he would help her find her father. But he hadn't
known that her stubborn bravery would affect him the way it had.
The kiss earlier had been spur of the moment, but once she was in
his arms he had wanted to prolong it, had wanted to keep her there,
had wanted more. His body had reacted then the way it was reacting
now and looking at her standing there, with her eyes closed, her
hair touched by the fading rays of sunlight streaming through the
gallery windows, he had to fight the urge to take her back into his
arms.

Instead, he turned and stepped into the
Spaniard's melon-shaped trunkhose again. At least they covered what
was going on beneath his hose. Eduardo had found a less hazardous
doublet, still thickly padded but with a band of jeweled pecadils
around the waist instead of the stiff, descending vee. There were
at least forty small gold buttons closing it in front, something
Gabriel's large fingers stumbled over until a pair of soft white
hands pushed them aside and finished the task for him.

"My previous boastings aside, I should
confess I am out of practice in my speaking of Spanish," Eva said
softly in that language. "I fear I may confuse a word or two."

"You will do fine," he answered in melodious
Castilian. "If you're not sure of something just look to me and,
like a proper boor, I shall interrupt and steer the conversation in
another direction."

"I truly am sorry to have caused this
trouble."

Gabriel tilted his chin up as she fastened
the last few buttons. "You didn't cause it. The greater trouble
would have come when I gave the signal to open fire."

Her eyes rose to his and she switched back
to English. "You were going to attack them?"

"I was considering it."

"What stopped you?" she asked on a hushed
breath.

"The fourth ship."

"The fourth—? I don't understand."

He watched the little flush of vanity mottle
her cheeks when he didn't attribute his change of mind to her
appearance on deck. "The fourth ship has not moved any closer over
the past two hours. It is staying well back, just out of range of
our ability to identify her."

"I see."

He chuckled and lowered his chin. "I'm sure
you don't see at all, but then there is no reason why you should.
I'm not even sure I see it myself. It's more of a feeling, a
sensation here—" he raised his hand and trailed a forefinger across
the nape of her neck.

Eva shuddered as an entire waterfall of icy
prickles and shivers flooded down her spine... a reaction that was
not missed by the amber eyes. Once again he came perilously close
to curving his hand around her neck and pulling her forward.
Instead, he unfastened the thick coil of braided hair and let it
unravel down her back. While his fingers untwisted the braid she
stood perfectly still, focussing on one of the buttons on his
doublet. When he was finished and the soft blonde waves were
rippling through his hands, he thought he heard her whimper, but
she adamantly refused to look up at him.

“
Poco
esquilo
,” he murmured.

He started to bend his
head, but the sound of the ship’s bell forestalled him, warning him
a longboat had been launched from the
San
Mateo
.

He reached instead for the neck ruff and
crouched down so she could fasten it around his collar. That done,
he scraped a pair of brushes through his ragged mane to tame it,
waited for her to affix a delicate lace veil and jewelled biretta
in her hair, then offered up his arm to escort her on deck.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Eva stood nervously by the
gangway as the Spanish pirate and five of his officers from
the
San Mateo
came on board. Estevan Muertraigo, calling himself Francisco
de Cuellar was in his mid thirties, tall and lean, with jet black
hair and deep-set black eyes. More than half of the left side of
his face was stained by a birthmark which marred what otherwise
might have been a regal countenance. The imperial on his chin was
trimmed to a fine point and there was not a speck of dust or
wrinkle to be seen anywhere on his doublet or hose. Among the men
accompanying him was his quartermaster, introduced as Salvador
Diego, a short strut of a man with spindly legs and a large paunch
made excessively prominent by the extra padding of his doublet.
While the Spanish captain assessed his counterpart in Gabriel
Dante, Stubs MacLeish eyed Diego. The other officers were in full
armor with steel helmets and breastplates.

It was as much of a charade as the ranks of
scarlet-clad crewmen Dante had assembled on deck. They stood at
ramrod attention holding pikes with scarlet pennons hanging limp at
the tips. That there were muskets, swords, and pistols tucked away
behind capstans and netting went blithely unnoticed by Muertraigo,
who merely nodded belligerently at the display.

Dante presented Eva as his beloved wife,
Carmelita, at which time Muertraigo offered an elegantly flared bow
as he bestowed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Senora Padilla. Your beauty exceeds
anything these poor eyes have beheld in many weeks.”

"You flatter me, Senor Capitan," she said
softly, smiling over the rim of her fan as she sank in a delicate
curtsy. "And you honor us greatly with your presence."

The Spaniard kept hold of her hand as he
looked around, inspecting the ship and crew, noting the cannon
placements and the various calibers, which prompted Eva to lower
the fan and lure his gaze to the wide expanse of bare, plumped
flesh mounding over her bodice.

The ferret-like eyes feasted on the bounty
for a moment before he murmured, "The honor is mine, I assure you.
To that end, allow me to present a small gift in thanks for your
gracious hospitality." He waved one of his men forward. In his arms
was a large wooden crate holding six bottles packed in straw. "It
is a refreshingly delicious wine from France, and it would please
me greatly to have you enjoy it with our meal."

Eva dipped again and glanced at Dante, who
smoothly suggested they all might move below out of the dampening
evening air. Muertraigo assumed the role of escorting Eva to the
large cabin that had been transformed into a formal dining room.
The long trestle table was covered in dazzling white linen. Solid
gold plates and tall gleaming candelabra glittered under a halo of
beeswax candles. Cut glass goblets were quickly filled with the
gifted wine and as the guests were seated, Eduardo and several of
the other boys, all neatly dressed in crimson and gold striping,
began bringing in trays of fruit and cheese and flat warm biscuits
dripping with butter.

Conversation to that point had been polite
and vacuous, discussing weather and sailing conditions but as Eva
touched the wine glass to her lips, hoping to unstick her tongue
from the roof of her mouth, Muertraigo leaned close and smiled.

"I am in despair to have to say I have been
in Nueva Espanola many long years and have not had the pleasure of
your acquaintance until now. Neither you nor your husband."

"Likely because we have come from my posting
in Barranquilla," Dante said easily. "We were to join the flota in
Havana before returning to Spain, but arrived too late." Knowing
that Muertraigo’s keen eyes would have noted the fresh repairs on
the upper deck, he added, "Bloody English pirates attempted to
engage us but our guns quickly showed them the futility of such an
endeavour.”

The Spaniard nodded and pursed his lips.
“Ah, the English plague. They grow bolder each day and multiply
like fleas on a dog. But perhaps it was fortuitous that you missed
the rendezvous in Havana. You will have heard, no doubt, of the
attack on the fleet?"

Dante set his wine glass down on the table
and managed a suitably shocked expression. "The fleet was attacked?
When? By whom?"

"English pirates. A massive attack involving
dozens of ships, which must have required months of planning, for
they swarmed like bees and ambushed all along the line. The chain
of command was broken and most of the ships have been forced to
return to Havana!"

Dante looked adequately stricken. "I had not
heard this. Alvarez?" He looked at Rowly who had to choke down a
slice of half-chewed pear before he could answer.

"Most shocking, indeed, senor capitan. One
wonders who could have been so bold as to lead the cunning rogues
in an attack against an entire fleet?"

Muertraigo took a sip of wine and swirled
the rich red burgundy around the bowl of the goblet. "It is said...
the Pirate Wolf himself was in command.”

“Surely not,” Gabriel protested. “We were
told he fell afoul with cannibals and was roasted alive.”

Muertraigo laughed. “We could only wish such
a fate on his entire pack of whores and bastards. Years ago,” he
mused, still twirling his glass, “when I was first posted in
Havana, I begged to be allowed to pursue the vermin, to hunt them
down and rid these waters of them once and for all. I destroyed
one, I could have destroyed them all.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. "You destroyed
one? How so?"

"The bitch whore. The one they call the
Black Swan. I holed her ship so many times there was nothing left
of it but a shell. She limped away like a beaten dog with her tail
between her whore legs. Unfortunately she survived, but I’m told
she has only half an arm to remind herself of her defeat every
day.”

Dante’s expression did not change by as much
as a flicker. His smile remained fixed in place and his thumb
continued to toy with the base of the wine goblet.

It was Eva whose heartbeat started to race
like a snare drum. She sensed rather than saw the sudden tension
that tightened the line of his jaw and turned the hard gleam in his
eyes cold and deadly.

If this was a chess game, Dante had just
been put in check. But instead of leaping to his feet and blasting
a hole in Muertraigo’s chest, he raised his glass and tipped his
head. "A toast to your skill then, Capitan. There are few who can
say they have emerged victorious from an encounter with the Dante
curs."

Muertraigo accepted the praise with solemn
nod. "They are not as invincible as the rumors would make them out
to be. Indeed, Havana was all abuzz with the news that one of the
cubs had been captured. We have had no news of what became of him,
but since he was taken by Don Cristobal Recalde, one must assume
his flesh has been flayed from his bones and whatever was left has
been crushed between the teeth of sharks by now."

Eva took a very deep swallow of wine. The
gleam in Dante’s eyes had turned even colder, if that was possible,
and she spoke hastily to draw Muertraigo’s attention away. "And
you, Senor Capitan? Will you be returning to Spain soon?"

The Spaniard smiled at her breasts. "Alas
no. My business interests keep me here. I served twelve years in
the jungles of Nombre de Dios, another four in Havana, and now I
find I have acquired a taste for the finer things in life."

“You are engaged in trade, then, Senor?”

“Trade… and adventure,” he said.

She leaned closer as if he was the most
fascinating man she had ever met. “My husband tells me these
islands are deserted and pestilent and he cannot wait until we are
home again in Castile.”

He chuckled and waved a hand to have his
glass refilled. "I assure you that even the bleakest of islands can
hold many secrets and treasures, senora.”

“You are hunting treasure?”

“Treasure that has been guarded by ghosts
for many decades,” he whispered against her ear.

As fast as Eva’s heart had been beating just
moments before, it slowed to a sluggish thudding. “Now you tease
me, Senor Capitan."