The Last Broken Promise (9 page)

“I’m Jess. Just Jess, not
Lady Anything
.” She was finally able to speak normally. “Call me Jess.”

“No, I think not,” he answered urbanely.

What sort of game was the minx up to? McLeod was not prepared to address the sister of Heartless St. John by her given name. He would have no mistakes between them as to the formality of their acquaintance. The mere circumstance that they’d spent a night together, however innocent it had been, would be impossible to explain to her brother. The fact of the matter was, with McLeod’s reputation, St. John would probably try to murder him before the pirate could speak a word in his own defense.

He’d had women try to trap him into compromising situations with the hope of marriage, many times. He’d become uncommonly adept at foiling their plans. There was the pretty contessa in Italy last year who’d tried to pass her babe off as his. Then there was the Lady Jane Emberly. She’d locked herself in his water closet for a whole day waiting to catch him unawares and undressed. Actually, women had been pursuing him since he was fourteen. And for the most part, Finn McLeod had been glad to oblige. He took what they offered. And he made sure the encounters were completely satisfying to both parties. He also kept those same encounters brief, to the point of offense. But he had no intention of having anything to do with the lovely girl on the bed. She might look like God’s gift to mankind come down to earth, but he knew she was a mantrap. She had to be, no woman could be as beautiful and vulnerable as she seemed. It was a lie.
She
was a lie. She had to be. All these things were rolling through his cynical mind as he prepared to speak. He moved a few steps away from her.

“Lady St. John, what in the name of all that’s holy are you doing in this gaol?”

The entrancing smile she gave him made his eyes narrow.

“Why, I’m persuaded I came just to find you Captain McLeod,” the young woman said with perfect candor.

He cursed again under his breath. Then he walked across the room to put even more distance between them.

“I must ask you to stop all this heathen cursing,” Jess said primly, swinging her black-clad legs over the edge of the rough cot. They didn’t quite reach the floor.

He thought she looked for all the world like a naughty angel. But this woman was no angel. No matter that she was masquerading as a nun.

“I know it’s difficult to remedy such a bad habit. But with prayer and strict discipline it can be done,” she lectured sternly.

He cocked his dark head in her direction and taunted, “Thank you for instructing me Sister Whoever-You-Are.”

“I’m serious,” Jess insisted. “We’re going to be in each other’s company a great deal and I will not tolerate your cursing.”

McLeod folded his arms across his chest. He leaned back against the wall of the gaol. “That’s where you’re wrong. We will
not
be spending
any
time at all in each other’s company, none. The night, that’s just passed is enough. More than enough.”

Jess got up. She stamped over to him arguing, “We
will
be spending time on the same ship. As much time as it takes to get to London. But you can be assured we will not be seeing each other. I will be staying in my cabin so that I can avoid you.”

“Listen well, Sister St. John.” His eyes bore into her. “
We
are not going anywhere together. The only ship in the harbor is mine and once I get out of this dirty little toad hole, I’m sailing her to Bermuda. And I don’t carry passengers.”

She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “No, you are not going to Bermuda. You are taking me to London.”

A mocking smile settled on his lips as he shook his head. “I’d rather stay here and rot.”

“That would suit me fine,” she replied sweetly. “But Mother Marguerite Marie is sending me to London and you’re taking me.”

“Sister, I wouldn’t take you out to the garden privy, if you paid me,” he said sourly.

“Will you two shet up?” said a surly lump under a threadbare blanket on the floor between them. “How’s a man supposed to git rest if you two keep a yammerin’ at each other?” Horace was awake.

Jess jumped in fright, tripping on the long skirt of her habit. With a helpless squeak she plummeted down. McLeod caught her in his arms to stop her fall. He held her captive there. “Go back to your safe little convent, Sister St. John,” he growled.

Their conversation was halted by the sound of a key wrenching in the keyhole of the gaol’s locked door. Jess squinted her eyes against the sudden bright sunshine that flooded the stuffy chamber.

“Jess, are you in there?” asked the matronly voice from the open doorway. Finn felt the girl stiffen suddenly in his arms.

“Aunt Dorcas?” the girl whispered towards the light. Her eyes silently pleaded with him to release her.

There was a bustling, rustling sound as the old lady stepped in. “Jess girl, you’ve landed yourself in the briars for good and sure this time. I’m thinking your brothers will be a mite upset to find their precious little sister has been sleeping in a gaol. You could be put right back in that excuse for a nunnery, if you don’t take care,” she joked until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then she got a clear look at the man cradling her relative. “Get your hands off my niece, you blackguard,” Dorcas barked.

“What’s this? Get away from her, McLeod,” ordered a grizzled man from behind the old lady. He was the same one who’d locked Jess up the night before. Only now he was bowing and scraping for all he was worth. “Miss St. John, are you all right? I’m sorry, right sorry. I didn’t know who you were until your aunt knocked on my door this morning. I hope you won’t hold this against me, Miss St. John. I surely don’t want your brothers peeved with me.” He swallowed and wiped his brow. No, he thought, Lord knows I don’t want the St. Johns after me.

Jessamine’s face was suddenly wreathed with a smile, as she watched the nervous man at the door. A plan was born. One that would get her to London with as little fuss as possible.

“Aunt Dorcas, help me.” It was a weak pitiful whisper. “Please, please help me...”

Finn’s golden eyes narrowed. He released her as if she’d suddenly burned him. What was the cursed minx up to now, he wondered? Her arms shot out to encircle his waist, effectively trapping him. His mouth settled into a straight, hard line as she leaned limply against his broad chest.

“Jess?” her aunt murmured in concern. “What’s wrong, dear?” The older woman quickly moved into the chamber. “What have you done to my niece?” She bristled up at McLeod.

“Nothing, Madam,” he tried to explain. “I swear, I have been aught but a model of Christian rectitude.”

That statement drew forth, first a snort, then a shuddering sob from the girl along with pitiful answer. “Oh, Aunt Dorcas, it was awful... so very awful. I tried to tell him who I was. But he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe me.”

The girl crossed her fingers against the captain’s impressive chest. It was only a partial untruth, she rationalized. She’d tried to convince the night watch she was not a thief. Her Aunt Dorcas could interpret the statement any way she liked. And about any of the men currently in the small room with them. It would not be Jess’s fault, if a grievous mistake was made in her aunt’s understanding.

“Madam, she’s lying...,” Finn started to defend himself, but didn’t get very far.

“Scoundrel, Blackguard!” the old lady shouted as she made to hit him about the head with her reticule. She was short. Her aim was bad. So she only ended up thrashing his shoulder with the soft, knitted purse.

The big man instinctively turned to shield the girl in his arms from the attacking banshee.

“Do you know who you’re calling a liar, you foul animal?” Dorcas huffed as she realized her strength was no match for his. “That’s Miss Jessamine St. John you’re handling like a common doxy. She’s going to be a nun, for Heaven’s sake. Nuns don’t lie, you miserable excuse for a man.”

“Amen!” the cell’s other occupant added his opinion. “I tried to protect her, Your Worship,” he whined. “I tried to tell him she were a nun. But he wouldn’t listen to me.” Horace always did like to get the quality to be on his side. Maybe the old hag would be so grateful, she’d get him out of gaol. He shrugged to himself, it couldn’t hurt.

“The bloke’s a raving beast when it comes to wimmen, you know.” Horace paused to let his words sink in. “Pore lady.” He shook his shaggy head soulfully. “Pore, pore lady.”

“Get your filthy hands off her!” Dorcas was at her wit’s end.

Finn calmly lifted both of his hands to show her he was not the one holding on with a death grip. And that brought the old lady up short, indeed it did. Also, Jess was hiding her face in the tall man’s shirt. Something passing strange was going on here. The girl could never get by with a lie, if her aunt could see her eyes. It just didn’t work, Dorcas knew her too well. So the chit was hoaxing them, but why? Dorcas heaved out a relieved sigh. At least Jess was all right. Her aunt decided to go along with whatever freak the girl was up to. After all, things couldn’t get much worse.

“Young man.” She eyed McLeod sternly. “I said, release my niece.”

“I will gladly
release
Sister St. John,” he drawled cynically. “As soon as she releases me.”

Jess had the grace to blush. She loosened her hold on his waist. “You have the most difficulty with names and titles, don’t you Captain McLeod?” she lectured him with her hands on her hips again.

“I never have, until now,” he replied coldly.

“Well, you’re having the devil of a time with mine.” She sniffed.

“An excellent reason to terminate our acquaintance,” he added sarcastically.

She ignored that jibe and continued, “My name is Miss Jess St. John, not sister, or Sister St. John, or Your Grace. Do you think you can manage to hold onto that truth, this time?”

“I can’t imagine why I would care to remember your name at all.” It was supremely condescending and certainly had a lowering effect on all the others in the cell, but not Jess.

“You must
try
to remember how to address me correctly, Captain McLeod.” She gave him a victor’s smile as she moved in for the coup de gras. “You must remember how to address me correctly because, you see, we are to be married.”

“Bloody Satan and all his black imps, we are not!” he roared.

“Jessamine!” her aunt squealed.

It took all the fortitude she possessed not to cower from the big man’s wrath. She stood her ground. She waited as he spewed forth a streak of obscenities that turned the air blue. When he finally stopped and glared down at her, she continued, “We have to get married because we shared that bed last night.” Jess pointed dramatically to the little cot.

“Aye, they did,” chortled Asa. “Aye, they surely did. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

“Shut up Horace!” Finn roared again. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped up and bit you on the backside.”

Dorcas started to fan herself weakly with one wrinkled hand. For the life of her, she didn’t have an inkling what her scatterbrain niece was about. But she prayed the girl really wasn’t set on marrying the captain. Granted, he was a fine figure of a man, almost as handsome as her darling nephews. But he was little more than a pirate. Lady Jessamine St. John was not going to marry a pirate. Not if her aunt had anything to say about the matter. No, Jess would marry a title, if Dorcas could arrange it. And she knew without conceit that she could. She’d gotten her own sister married off to a duke’s son, hadn’t she? What she needed, for Jess, was some man with a nice tidy title. One that wasn’t too grand. Since he’d have to give it up to come in live in America with her niece. That kind of man would be easy to come by in London, the woman was sure. Jess’s dowry was enormous, thanks to her doting brothers. And the lass was stunning, when she wasn’t plotting mischief. If only Dorcas could get the chit to London, everything would fall nicely into place. Getting to London, now that was the hard part.

Finn leaned down until he was on eye level with the little nun. He gritted the words through his teeth, “We did not share a bed last night. We did not share anything. I did not sleep in the same bed as this little, scheming witch. If I had, I’d be frozen dead.”

Jess blinked. She suddenly had a few second thoughts about her scheme. Finn McLeod shared many qualities with her oldest brother, she decided. The first of which was the fact that he could be very intimidating, extremely intimidating. Also, he was angry, well not just angry, she qualified to herself. He was caught up in a very impressive rage. Captain McLeod was probably going to begin breathing fire, like a medieval dragon, any second now. It wasn’t a good thing to have big powerful men angry at you. She’d learned that from all her brothers. But, said her conscience, you promised the Reverend Mother. And promises of that sort can never, ever be broken. And so Jess recklessly plunged ahead.

“But that’s what you told me.” Jess widened her eyes and blinked like an innocent baby owl.

“I lied,” he ground out. “I told you before, I always lie. Get a doctor in here, he can examine you and settle this. You’re still a virgin, if that is what you truly were last night when you arrived in this godforsaken hole. A leech will prove that fact.”