The Blue Diamond (The Razor's Edge Book 1) (14 page)

“Stop,” he demanded, banging
his head hard against the door.

“Tell me that you felt
nothing. Tell me now, and I’ll stop!”

Carbonale twisted his head
against the door and then slammed his hands hard against it. “How can you give
something away that you never had?” he asked through his teeth and backed away
from the door. He leaned down and sluggishly picked up his damp, wrinkled shirt
from the floor near his feet and wiped his face with it before slapping it hard
over his shoulder.

“Are you referring to my
freedom?
 
Or you?” Ivory whispered and
fell silent.

“Goddamn you!” Carbonale
cried out, hitting the door a final time before he turned and stomped off. When
he finally reached his cabin, Green was leaning against the door with his arms
folded.

“I’ve taken the liberty of
detaining those two and securing them below until we reach Nassau.”

“What?”

“The two miscreants who were
plotting on Captain Shepard.”

“Wait, how were you even
aware of this?” Carbonale asked, brushing him aside and opening the door.

“Your cabin boy was
watching, and he ran for me.
 
However, I
assured him you could handle it yourself,” Green said while lifting the
decanter on Carbonale’s desk and nodding to him for permission.

“Of course. I’ll join you,”
Carbonale grunted as he stepped back into the passageway, pulled off his boots
and tipped them, releasing the rain water onto the boards outside the door.

“Do not worry, my
friend.
 
I am not here to, yet again,
make a plea for you to speak with Captain Shepard. I have the understanding
from seeing the direction from which you came, and the expression on your face,
that you already have,” Green said, striking a match and lighting Carbonale’s
pipe.

“Then you’d be wrong,
Alphonse. I simply reminded those two miscreants, as you called them, of the
rules where Captain Shepard is concerned and continued on my way back
here.
 
And don’t sit there—sit on the
wood chair. You’re soaking wet,” Carbonale ordered as he waved his pipe in the
air and motioned Green away from his velvet sofa.

Green chuckled lightly and
commented, “Maddox, you are so predictable.”

“I’ll thank you, sir, not to
judge me,” he shot back as he spoke with the pipe pressed between his
teeth.
 
He shook out his shirt, hanging
it over the back of the wooden chair. “Now, why don’t you take your judgments
and be on your way? I need to change out of these wet breeches before my ass
turns red and I can’t sit for a week.”
 

Green continued to chuckle
as he stood and walked to the door. “By the way, the key to Captain Shepard’s
cabin is kept by the boy who also minds you.” Green pulled the door open and
tipped his hat.
  
Carbonale picked up the
anchor-shaped paperweight from his desk and hurled it, just as Green ducked out
and closed the door. He poured what was left of the rum in his cup and held the
decanter upside down until it dripped no more. He took a long drink and sat it
down on his desk. Then, he unhooked his belt, unbuttoned his breeches, and let
them fall from his hips to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them
away, taking another puff of his pipe.

He walked in his
under-breeches to the windows and watched the lightning as it turned the black
sky white.
 
He removed his stockings, one
after the other, and tossed them to the floor. “Come in!” he shouted upon
hearing a light rap at his door.

“I’ve come to light the
candles, Cap’n,” said the cabin boy as he peeked in.

“Then do it, lad,” Carbonale
said, never turning away from the sea.

The boy went about, lighting
every candle in the room, until a warm, soft glow had overtaken the dank
darkness of the weak light that the lone candelabra in the middle of his desk
had offered. “Will there be anythin’ else, Cap’n?” the boy asked, picking up
the wet breeches and draping them over his arm.

Carbonale lowered his pipe
and turned to his right. The boy stood straight and silent with the light of a
single candle shining up on his face from below. “Here, take these as well.
What’s your name, boy?” he asked, tossing off the damp under-breeches.

“Why, I’m Richard, Cap’n.
I’ve always been Richard.”

“How old are you?”

“I was twelve me last name
day, sir. I assure ye, Cap’n, I’m quite old enough ta’ do the job!”

“No, no, no, son…I’m not
questioning that.
 
I’m just bored and
curious.
 
But not nearly drunk enough, so
bring me another bottle.
 
That’s all—I
want nothing else from you.” Carbonale turned back to the sea as the last of
the lightning and thunder rumbled and flashed in the distance. “Oh, and one
more thing!” he shouted after Richard.

“Yes, Cap’n?”

“See to Captain Shepard. I
believe she’d requested a candle last night.”

“Aye, Cap’n. I’ll be just
outside the door all night if ye need anythin’ else.”

The door closed, and
Carbonale tapped out his pipe in the ashtray and sat back, naked, in his armed
chair behind his desk. The candles had already begun to warm the room slightly,
and the chill from his wet clothes and tangled thoughts was fading away. Once
Richard returned with the rum, Carbonale managed to get through only half of it
before locking his door, falling into his bunk, and closing his eyes.

Chapter
Fifteen

“There’s a storm up ahead. I
hate storms!” Miranda squealed as she rushed up to Cassandra in her bare feet.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Ke says she never wears
shoes on deck, so I tried it, and I kind of like it.
 
What the hell difference does it make, Cass?
I’m going below. There’s no way I’m staying out here. Look, it’s already
starting to rain!” Miranda said, holding her hands out and catching the first
of the many drops to follow.

“I’ll join you,” Cass said,
closing the spyglass and sliding it in her sash.
 
The skies were quickly darkening, and the
water was already beginning to chop. “Ke?” she shouted to the bow, “We’re going
below!”

Keara waved in
acknowledgement as she stood her post and held tightly onto a line, watching
the smothered sun and the dark clouds approaching. “You there!
 
Get Willy up here straight away!” she called
out to the sailor closest to her and stepped carefully, holding the lines until
she reached the quarterdeck.

“Willy, get her through the
storm. I’ll have the hatches secured, and you mind the sails and the helm.”

“Will do, Master Shepard.
This storm’s gonna set us a back a bit.”

“Well, do your best. I’m
sure it’s set the
Cat
back a bit as
well.
 
Perhaps if we ride it out well, it
will give us some gain.”

Keara rushed about ordering
the hatches secured and assisting in any capacity, until the boat was prepared
to weather the storm. They’d still not gained sight of the
Black Cat
, but since they now had a plan, catching the
Cat
wasn’t necessarily the agenda as
much as just reaching Nassau under cover of night.

“Put your shoes on, Mir,
please,” Cassandra directed as they entered their cabin.

“Let me dry off my feet
first, will you?” she answered, flopping down on her bunk.

“I hate storms, too, but
I’ve seen much worse and, unfortunately, I can’t imagine this one giving
Blacksnake much worry in that galley of his.”

“Okay…stockings and shoes in
place, sir. Now, may I go take care of the log?”

“What is it, Miranda?
Obviously something’s in your craw,” Cass remarked, folding her arms.

“I’m worried that Tommy and
Sandy are going to come to blows, and I haven’t the slightest idea how to stop
it.”

Cassandra laughed and sat
down on the bunk next to her cousin. “Miranda, you dangle yourself in front of
them like a bag of pearls and then wonder to whom you’ll hand the prize! I
don’t know how you’ve lived this long, carrying on so.”

“Tommy is, well, he’s
just…young and dumb, but he has the most magnificent bum.
 
It’s true!
 
Ask Keara!”

“I’d rather not, if you
don’t mind,” Cassandra said, backing away slightly.

“But Sandy...John, I mean…
is mature and worldly, and, although I have yet to have the pleasure, the way
he looks at me as if I’m the only woman alive,”
 
Miranda shivered slightly.
  
“There’s a lot to be said for having complete control over a man’s eyes,
wouldn’t you agree?”

Just the word “eyes”
triggered a memory in Cassandra of two bright green eyes staring back at
her.
 
She paused, imagining those eyes
again, wondering what they were looking at, and if they, too, had memories.

“Cass? Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You were
saying?”

“There’s only one way to
work this all out and make a decision,” Miranda declared, jumping to her feet
and rushing to the mirror on the wall.

“Oh, really?”

“Can you keep yourself busy
for a bit?”

“For heaven’s sakes,
Miranda.
 
I can always find something to
do. As a matter of fact, I’ve been meaning to get the books balanced from our
trip to Kingston. I noticed you hadn’t managed to get around to it yet,” Cassandra
scowled at her cousin. “One of us has to account for what we spent, because
when we get Ivory back, she’ll want to know…”

“Wonderful. Give me an
hour.
 
Actually, better make it three.”

“Miranda, are you planning
to…”

“Yes. That’s exactly what
I’m planning,” she answered, barely allowing Cassandra to say a word. She
combed back her hair, pinched her cheeks, and, as always, set her bosom high in
her bodice.

“Cover those damn things,
will you? We’ve appearances to maintain! You know this is not permitted aboard
ship, right?”

Miranda grabbed a shawl from
her trunk and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, “I’ll see you later!”

Cassandra could only laugh.
She slapped her hands on her thighs and headed off to Ivory’s cabin to balance
the books and make the log entry for Miranda. She hoped to find a decent novel
in the bookcase as well, to carry her away during the storm and take her mind
off of those green eyes and the handful of man who’d been blessed with them.
First, however, she imagined something else, and her change in mood persuaded
her to give Miranda a hand with her decision.

* * * *

Sandy had been put to task
below decks in the hold, repairing and rebuilding barrels. He hadn’t seen
Miranda at all since the day before in Ivory’s office, but he had suffered the
sneers and lowered brow of Tommy when he requested wood and tools. Fortunately,
Tommy had been called under all-hands to assist with the rigging and sails for
the storm. Sandy was, for now, quite alone.

“Are they keeping you busy
down here?”

“Oh! Miranda, love, ye
nearly turned me head around!” Sandy exclaimed as he spun to find her there.
“Yes, as ye can see there’s lots ta’ be done here. I was goin’ up for
all-hands, but bein’ as I’m a traitor and all…well.”

“You wouldn’t have, say, a few
minutes to spare, would you?”

“For ye, lass, I have the
rest of me life,” he whispered, reaching out and placing his thick hand on the
back of her waist and pulling her closer.

“For now, let’s wait on that
whole life and just be thankful for today,” Miranda whispered back as the sloop
tilted, tossing her against him. He caught her easily and wrapped both arms
tightly around her to steady her as her wrap floated to the floor. “You have
wonderful sea legs,” she said over a heavy sigh.

“Well, why don’t ye let me
show ye how wonderful the rest of me is, too?” Sandy growled as he leaned back
slightly and took in a long drink of Miranda with his eyes, starting at the
rise and fall of her breasts as they strained against the material of her
bodice with each breath.

Her hands flew up and
clasped the sides of his bald head, and she pressed her lips down hard onto his
as he reciprocated equally, taking her kisses powerfully into his mouth over
and over. He squeezed her so tightly against him that she thought she’d faint,
and she began to struggle against him for air. “Sandy! You’ve got to allow me
to catch my breath.”

His passion was unlike any
she’d experienced before. He was possessed and pulled her to him again,
thrusting his face down into her bosom, kissing them hard as his hands slid
from her back to clasp one firm breast in each hand, pushing them higher, until
they almost climbed completely over the top.

“Wait!” she cried out, his
mouth still hungrily exploring her neck and chest.

“What? Wait? Ye can’t be serious,”
Sandy mumbled.
 
His hands clasped now at
her sash, pulling to untie it.

“Stop it! Listen, come with
me,” Miranda whispered, placing her forefinger over her lips.

Sandy released a low groan,
but he obeyed, releasing her and then taking her hand as she ordered and
following her stealthily to her cabin door. “I can’t go in there. What if
someone sees me?”

With only the light of a
single candle in her hand to show the way, they stood at the cabin door without
witnesses, and Miranda handed the candle to Sandy. She pulled at the laces of
the top of her bodice and ripped it open, allowing that bit of her which hadn’t
already been exposed, to catch the glow of the candle before Sandy dropped it
to the floor and then scrambled to retrieve it.

Miranda turned the key in
the lock and pushed in the door. The room was alight with at least a dozen
candles and smelled of lavender. A basin of clean water and a fresh washcloth
was sitting on the dresser and the bunk bedding was turned down. “What the…?”

“Well, ye sure went ta’ a
lotta trouble,” Sandy said, holding her from behind.

“I’d take the credit if I’d
have done it, but I didn’t. However, I’m fairly certain I know who did.” She
laughed.

Sandy turned to the wash
basin and began to clean himself up while Miranda fell back on the bed and
unlaced her bodice the rest of the way, tossing it aside. Her brown peasant
blouse fell loosely from her shoulder, and she pulled the pins from her red
hair and threw them to the floor. Sandy watched her over his shoulder in the
reflection of the wall mirror and picked up his pace washing.

“Clean enough yet, there?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever
be clean enough for ye lass but I’ll do me best.” Sandy unbuttoned the top of
his shirt and whipped it up and over his head, revealing the body of a man
who’d worked hard for a very long time. His well-muscled stomach and thick,
round pectorals were covered in a rich layer of reddish blond man fur, and his
back rippled in waves of strength when he turned away and washed his underarms
and neck.

“Allow me,” Miranda said as
she slithered from the bed to her feet and sashayed to Sandy, taking the
washcloth and soap from his hand. She rinsed the cloth and filled it with
lavender soap. She began to gently wash over Sandy’s shoulders and down over
the waves of his arms and back. His head fell back and his arms hung limp at
his sides as she continued on her journey, dragging the washcloth over his
chest and up and down the peaks and valleys of his form. She knelt before him,
unbuttoned his knickers, and pulled them down slowly past his hips until they
fell to his ankles.

“Oh dear Lord. Oh dear
Lord,” he repeated.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda
whispered, looking up at him.

“I was thinkin’ I may be
dead and gone up ta’ heaven so I wanted to say me prayers quick,” he sighed,
looking down at her.

“Is this where you were
shot?” Miranda asked, taking the tip of her finger and tracing a scar almost an
inch wide, and nearly as deep, on his thigh. Sandy only swallowed hard and
nodded. She leaned in and kissed it softly as she brushed the washcloth up
behind his thigh, over his right buttock and back down again.

“Dear lord, you’re goin’ to
be the death a me,” he moaned, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders and
then grasping them when she once more rinsed the washcloth and this time came
right up between his thighs, gently washing him there. “Holy Mary,” he said as
his legs trembled and his semi-arousal became fully prominent. Miranda wasted
no time now finishing her task, and when she was satisfied that he was clean
from head to toe, and having found no blemishes other than his scar, she
brushed her face against his belly.

“Good God!”

“Are you alright! Did I hurt
you?”

“Enough o’ this already!”
Sandy shouted, pulling her from under her arms to her feet and scooping her up.
“How much do ye think a poor man can take, woman?” he exclaimed, tossing her
onto the bunk and taking a deep breath before climbing atop her and pulling the
peasant blouse up over her head.

“Now, it’s time fer me to
have me fun!” Sandy laughed, burying his face between her breasts, growling and
nipping at them as she laughed hysterically and squirmed beneath him.

“Ouch! Easy!” she shouted,
all the while still laughing as he groped and pawed at her, until she climbed
to her knees in front of him and he pulled at her tied sash. “Come on! We don’t
have all night,” she said laughing as he was finally able to untangle it and
get to the buttons of her breeches underneath.

“Ye know, there aughtta be a
law against women in pants!” he declared, pulling them off along with her
under-breeches in a single hard tug and throwing them across the room. “Oh
goodness, Madame, there aughtta be a law against ye wearing anythin’ at all!”