The Pirate's Jewel (19 page)

He gently set Jewel away from him. She stared up at him,
her eyes wet and full of a sorrow he’d do anything to erase.

He wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. A raindrop
quickly replaced it.

“Don’t cry. It will be all right. Go to your cabin and get
some rest.”

Jewel clutched his sleeve. Nolan winced and pulled his arm
away.

“You’re hurt.” She eased out of his embrace. “I’d
forgotten. Let me see.”

His arm didn’t bother him, but it would if she tended it.
She needed to rest. He wanted to see her back in good spirits. A compromise
quickly came to mind. “I have a young surgeon on board, and he can use the practice.
As soon as I know you’re in your cabin trying to get some sleep, I’ll have him
tend to it.”

She gazed at him for a moment, seeming to struggle with
something. “Nolan, I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He understood. But he couldn’t watch
over her with the storm on their tail. He struggled to choose one of his men
who could stay with her until she fell asleep. Someone he could trust with her.
Wayland came to mind, but only because Jewel would find him unattractive. He
couldn’t blame her. Wayland wasn’t exactly cuddly. He swallowed his jealousy.
Jewel was too important not to swallow it. “Would you like Parker to keep you
company?”

“No. I want
you
.” She dragged her thumb across the hollow
of his cheek. The touch, combined with the words he took secret, selfish
pleasure in hearing, proved as erotic as anything he’d ever had said to him.

“I have to have my arm tended, and see to the ship. I’ll
check on you after that. But you have to promise to change into dry clothing
and try to get some sleep.” Nolan knew he shouldn’t be making such an offer,
but he could deny her nothing at that moment.

“I promise if you promise you won’t forget about me.”

Nolan took a deep breath. “I couldn’t forget about you even
if I tried.”

Jewel gazed up, obviously trying to see through him. Hiding
his feelings from her was growing increasingly difficult. He cared more than he
wanted to, but now was not the time to withhold the one thing he could give her—his
honest compassion. He kissed her knuckles. “Go, before I change my mind and
send Wayland in my place.” His teasing succeeded in getting Jewel to smile. She
took a step back, holding his gaze, and then turned and hurried below deck.

The patter of rain increased to a steady pour as Nolan went
to check on Parker’s progress before locating the surgeon. When he was done,
he’d send Jewel grog spiked with Wayland’s special brew. A hot meal would be
better, but they couldn’t light a fire with the unsteady sea. With any luck, the
combination of an empty stomach and strong spirits would knock her out before
he did something they’d both regret.

***

The sea’s violent thrashing surrendered to the sky’s dominance
as the dark clouds unleashed their fury.

A steady pounding on the deck above assured Nolan the weather
had not changed since he had retired to his temporary cabin. Despite the needle
dipping in and out of his arm, he relaxed. “Aren’t you through yet? I should have
let Mr. Blake stitch me after all.”

Wayland poked him extra hard with the next pass of the
needle. “Aye, but you didn’t let that young puppy do it. Ya came to old
Wayland. And not a bloody moment too soon. I hate sewing up a festering wound.”
He made an over-exaggerated sound of disgust.

Nolan glanced down. Though they sat huddled together on
the small bunk, he had avoided watching Wayland’s progress. “It hasn’t had time
to fester. And I came to you because I thought you could get it done fast.” And
because Blake was a pup. Nolan would rather his young surgeon practice on
someone else. He didn’t want another jagged scar, but he’d keep that to
himself.

Wayland picked up a bottle and offered it to him. When he
refused, the old pirate poured the fiery liquid down Nolan’s arm. Nolan jumped
and cursed. “What’s in that? Gunpowder?”

Wayland chuckled. “No, no ‘Blow-me-down’ tonight.”

Thank God for that. The last time he partook of “Blow-me-down”—a
Madagascar favorite among pirates; a concoction mixed with gunpowder for an
added kick—Nolan had woken up naked under a table at one of Bellamy’s favorite
taverns, two whole days unaccounted for. “Is that what you gave to Jewel? I
hope it didn’t make her sick.”

Wayland’s brows narrowed, and he focused on sewing Nolan’s
wound. The grizzled old pirate’s uncharacteristic silence made Nolan long for
his usual bizarre words of lunatic wisdom. Wayland pulled the stitching tight.
“The lass looked awful pale. She was asking for you. Wanted to see you
something fierce. Said you were coming later.”

The silence had been better after all. Another forceful jab
of the needle made Nolan clench his jaw. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over
his skin. He was beginning to feel like a pincushion, and he had no doubt that
was what Wayland intended.

“You got no business using the chit like this, Nolan. Bellamy
wouldn’t like it.” Wayland squeezed the wound. Blood seeped out from between
the stitches. “Puss. Told you it was festering.”

Nolan jerked his arm away, the curved needle dangling from
the thread that crisscrossed his biceps. He would have finished the job
himself, but stitching wounds had always made him queasier than delivering them.
“Bellamy never did a damn thing for his daughter. The only time he ever saw her
was to use her. The only reason he gave her that map was to keep me with him. He’d
thought to keep me in line by putting his innocent child in danger.”

Wayland poured more rum over the wound. Nolan sucked air
through his teeth. He grabbed the bottle out of Wayland’s hands and took a long
swallow. The liquid hit his empty stomach like an ember bursting into flame.

Wayland took back the bottle and set it on the small table
near the bunk. “Don’t know nothing about that. But I know Jewel ain’t no child
now. All I know is, she saved your life and now she’s paying the price. I don’t
like to see women doing men’s work.”

Nolan stood. “I didn’t ask her to kill that man. Or to come
along.”

Wayland remained where he was. “Sit down. I’m not done.”

Nolan eased back down, but only so Wayland could finish
stitching. He didn’t need the pirate to tell him how to handle Jewel. He knew
he owed her his life—but that wasn’t why he wanted to comfort her, to take care
of her. It was more than that.

Wayland patted his wound with a white cloth. Nolan looked
down at his clenched fists. He forced himself to relax so the man could
continue. “I thought you were pushing us together.”

Wayland poured rum on the cloth, and then wiped off the needle.
“Maybe I changed my mind since I got to know her. It ain’t right for you to be
after her like a rutting sea lion. You being the man who killed her father and all.”

Nolan forced himself not to move. Having an argument with
a man who was sewing your flesh together put you at a disadvantage. He kept his
voice low and controlled. “I’m not after her. And taking Bellamy out of her
life was one of the best things I could have done. However”—Nolan ground out
the rest through clenched teeth—“I…didn’t…
kill…
Bellamy.”

Wayland’s next jab with the needle felt as if it had been
fired from a cannon. “All right. Well, Jewel ain’t no whore. That’s all I’m
saying.”

“I know that!” And he’d not explain himself further. Nolan
had come to realize during their conversation regarding Wayland’s advice that
Jewel had some misguided ideas of love attached to their mutual physical attraction.
He’d not hurt her by taking advantage of that. She’d had enough illusions shattered
for one lifetime. Unfortunately, she needed someone to comfort her right now,
and he wanted to be the one to do it.

Jewel was his now. He owed her. He might deny it to
Wayland, but he did feel responsible for Bellamy’s death. And if he’d been reluctant
to shoulder any responsibility for Jewel before, the fact that she’d saved his
life changed it. Not only did he owe it to her to help her through her grief
tonight, he
had
to do it. He would give her what he’d never had, and
maybe she could put her brush with brutality behind her instead of carrying it
around for the rest of her life.

It was funny how different they were, yet how often their
lives had taken similar turns. Not for the first time, Nolan had the unsettling
sensation that his and Jewel’s destinies were entwined. Bellamy had been only a
thread, not the whole cloth.

Wayland cut the end of the thread with a dagger he pulled
from his belt. “You’re done.” He stood and headed for the door with one last
warning. “Don’t be hauling any buckets with that arm tonight. You’ve already
lost too much blood.”

Odd, Nolan’s blood surged at the idea of what he
would
be doing for the rest of the night.

Jewel reached for the pewter mug resting on the desk wedged
against the bunk and forced a sip past her lips. After struggling to swallow,
she groaned. Wayland’s tincture tasted worse than it smelled. The wretched
mixture scalded her tongue and urged her to spit it out. Yet she badly wanted
to sleep, and Wayland had promised the brew would do the trick. She would have rather
drunk the pools of stale ale that formed under the taps at the Quail and Queen.

What a fool she had been to ever sneak on board Nolan’s
ship. Or to fall in love with him.

He had broken his promise. He wasn’t coming. Though she
shouldn’t be surprised, considering the state of their relationship, she had
somehow convinced herself he’d put aside his restraint in light of her misery.
Never before had he seemed less guarded than when comforting her on deck.
Perhaps her desire and need for him had overshadowed her judgment. She’d
revealed herself miserably to him, and perhaps he’d merely said what he must to
calm her down and encourage her to go below. As usual, she’d been another
problem someone had to solve.

She held her nose and forced down a large swallow of grog.
Her face screwed up almost painfully in her effort to keep the vile concoction
down. Knowing drinking it all would be impossible, she set the mug back on the
desk, blew out the lantern and stretched out on the bed, hoping that what she
had forced down would be enough to make her drowsy. Unblinking, she stared into
the darkness.

The rain beat steadily on the deck above. Occasionally,
she could hear the men shuffling, but mostly she heard the rain. She dared not
close her eyes lest she see him. Her murdered foe. Just a boy. Why had she ever
asked Harvey to teach her to fight? Better yet, why had her father ever come
into her life at all, spurring her to ask to learn? In light of her current
situation, her life at the Quail and Queen had been almost blissful. Right now,
she’d give anything to be home, in her own bed.

Jewel thrashed to one side, and then the other. Everything
seemed lost. Even her desire to believe in the good—some good—of Bellamy
Leggett. Killing was what he had done on a regular basis. Certainly the ships
he had attacked didn’t always give up without a fight. Why had the wrongness of
such a life never occurred to her before?

The door to the cabin clicked quietly before its handle
slowly turned. Jewel sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets to her chin. Even in
the dark, she knew the tall, broad-shouldered shadow that crept into the cabin.
He silently closed the door, and then leaned back on it.

“Nolan,” she whispered.

He hesitated. “I thought you might be asleep.”

She shook her head. A burning built behind her eyes, but
she didn’t think she had any more tears to shed. “I couldn’t...” She swallowed
her words, unwilling to express the horror of what she felt. She balled the
sheets in her hands.

He sat on the bed, and his weight dipped the tick covering.
She slid into his arms. “It’s all right. I’m here now,” he said. He seemed
truly sympathetic, smoothing his hand down her back while pulling her against
him.

Jewel meant to slip her arms around him, but his sharp intake
of breath stopped her. She tried to pull away, to see his wound, but he held
her to him. “Your arm. Let me see,” she said.

His palms moved over her back in soothing circles, erasing
everything but her desire to lean more deeply into him. “It’s been taken care
of. All’s well.”

She braced her hands on his chest, careful not to graze
his arm again, and then slid her hands down his ribs and around his waist. His
inhalation of breath sounded deeper, huskier than before. With her cheek pressed
against his chest, she gorged on his scent. He smelled of rum and heat, spice
and wind. She closed her eyes, relieved to find only the image of Nolan
invading her mind. Her limbs grew heavy and hot, while her thoughts seemed to
float above her. She leaned into Nolan, the only thing grounding her, and
briefly wondered if Wayland’s concoction had finally started to take effect.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she whispered.

Nolan didn’t say anything, just held her tighter. With his
free hand, he brushed the length of her unbound hair.

“Mmm, soft. I knew it would be,” he murmured.

His voice reverberated over the rain and the thump of his
heart. The thick timbre of his words stirred Jewel’s senses with the same
intensity as his physical nearness. Time slowed to the hazy density of a dream.
She didn’t know if they sat entwined for minutes or forever. Wrapped in Nolan’s
arms, feeling the beats of his heart as if it were her own, was all there ever
was, all she ever wanted there to be. He leaned down and kissed the top of her
head. Without thinking, she turned her face up to his, offering him her mouth.
Her pulse counted out the moments he hesitated, first searching her face, and then
staring at her with trancelike fascination. Then, slowly, as if he was pulled
to her by a will that wasn’t his own, he pressed his mouth to hers.