Читать книгу Masters of Desire - Layla Chase - Страница 10

After being threatened once, Melodie didn’t dare disturb the old woman until she emerged from her hut. With the sun high in the sky and half the day gone, she’d paced the path between the cove and the hut at least a hundred times. She’d gone for a swim and rested her eyes for all of half an hour, and still the old woman remained in her hut. How long would Busara sleep?

When the Obeah woman finally surfaced, Melodie all but pounced on her. “What did you give him? What was in the potion?”

“Dat is between me and de young lord.”

“It won’t kill him, will it?” Melodie had never known the woman to use her magic to kill another living thing, but the precious secret of Siren’s Cove was sufficient reason to consider poisoning anyone who might destroy it.

Busara frowned at her. “He will get what he deserves when he chooses his fate.”

Melodie flung a hand in the air, all patience for Busara’s riddles gone with the long sleepless night. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Busara’s lips lifted in a secretive smile. “All will reveal in time.”

“By Poseidon!” Melodie spun and walked away.

“Where you be goin’?” Busara called out to her.

“Somewhere away from here, where people don’t talk in riddles,” she flung over her shoulder. Her feet carried her toward the cove, the last place she’d seen Rafe. Before he’d disappeared into the water.

“I have need of your assistance,” Busara called out.

“Kanoni can help. I’m leaving.”

“Aw, then you do not wish me to make your potion?”

Melodie was halfway into the woods when she ground to a halt. She made a slow turn. “You wouldn’t tease me, now would you?”

The old woman laughed. “Busara never teases.”

She took a step toward her. “You’re truly going to begin preparation to make me a mermaid forever?”

The old woman’s gray head dipped in a regal nod. “Dat I am.”

After wishing all her life to be a mermaid forever, now that the time had come, why was she so hesitant? Melodie trudged back to the hut and stood in front of Busara. “You have my attention. What do you need me to do?”

Busara reached inside the doorway and hauled out a heavy iron kettle. “Carry dis down by de cove and build a fire beneath it.”

For the next four hours, Melodie fetched, carried, gathered, chopped and mixed some of the most vile-smelling ingredients she’d ever dealt with in her entire life. She tied a piece of cloth over her nose, wondering how in the world she’d manage to swallow the concoction once it was complete.

When sun spilled into the sea on the horizon, Busara stood beside the fire and held her hand over the kettle. “De last ingredient is a scale from Poseidon’s tail. De only one I’ve ever found.” She dropped the scale into the pot and stirred it one last time. “’Tis done.”

Melodie untied the cloth from beneath her nose and used it to wipe away the beads of perspiration on her forehead. A sense of reckoning settled over her, or was it dread? Either way, she gazed down at the soupy brown fluid in the cauldron. “I guess this is it.” She glanced up at Busara. “What do I do now?”

“You must drink a cup of de magic before de sun sinks all de way into de ocean. So if you want to change forever, drink up.”

Melodie glanced toward the orb of orange mixing bright colors into the placid sea. With only a few minutes before the sun disappeared, she scooped a ladle full of the foul brew and lifted it to her lips, staring at the liquid. “Are you sure it will work?”

The old woman glared at her. “You doubt the Obeah?”

“No. Of course not.” But she hesitated, her mouth dry at the thought of swallowing the nasty mixture. This was what she wanted, what she’d asked of Busara for the past few weeks. If she drank this potion she’d never know the torment of being a freak. She’d blend in with one race, not be caught between two worlds, alone and afraid.

On the other hand, she’d never be human again, never walk on the land, and never make love with a man. She’d be forever a child of the sea. Although she could visit Siren’s Cove, she could never come ashore. Her hand trembled and her heart raced, her breathing coming in tiny gasps. She could do this and live the rest of her life in the sea she loved so dearly. Do it!

“Mamma!” Kanoni’s frightened voice rose about the humming in Melodie’s ears. “Mamma, where are you?”

“By the cove,” she answered.

Kanoni staggered through the trees onto the sandy beach, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her dress damp and torn. A bright red slash marred her right cheek, blood still oozing from it.

Melodie dropped the untouched liquid, ladle and all, back into the kettle and raced to her friend. “Kanoni, what happened?” She gathered the girl in her arms and held her shaking body.

“De governor caught me spying by de docks and beat me wit’ his whip.” She buried her face against Melodie’s chest and cried.

When Busara moved up beside them, Kanoni fell into her mother’s arms. “Mamma, oh Mamma.” Sobs wracked her slender shoulders. “I only managed to escape by falling into de water and pretending to drown. I almost did, but for de kindness of our people.”

Busara gathered herbs and made a poultice, applying it to the angry cut on Kanoni’s face. “What was so important de governor would tink you be spying?”

Kanoni grabbed her mother’s wrist and choked back her next sob. “He prepares a ship. Tomorrow he will sail into Siren’s Cove and kill you. You must leave.”

The old woman patted her daughter’s back. “Don’t you worry about dis ol’ woman. I can take care of meself.”

“But he’s bringing a warship, Mamma.” Kanoni pressed her mother’s hand to her cheek. “Even you cannot fight cannons wit magik. You need help. You need someone like Lord Herrington to help protect de cove from Braithwaite’s warship.”

“Do not worry yourself. Do not worry.”

“I have to worry, Mamma. I love you. We must send word to Lord Herrington at once. De governor is preparing as we speak.”

“Does anyone know where to find Lord Herrington?” Melodie asked.

Busara stared into the distance, her gaze unfocused in that uncanny way she had of seeing what was not there. “He has gone ashore at Devil’s Island.”

“The pirate’s port?” Melodie had heard of it and avoided it like the plague. Only wanton women and wicked men dared wander into the port. Many men met their deaths by the fearless cutthroats roaming the tawdry streets.

“He went ashore to speak to Glory Hogan.”

“The one-eyed pirate who skinned his first mate alive for stealing a woman from him?” Melodie’s breath caught in her throat. Rafe was in over his head in the midst of murdering marauders, and Busara refused to evacuate the cove in the face of certain death to herself and the treasure hidden in the cove’s waters. Melodie had to get to Rafe and warn him of the danger to the cove and beg for his help. Dare she go ashore on such a disreputable island?

The old woman glanced at the sun fading into the water and turned to Melodie. “You only have a moment to take your potion. Hurry before the last of the sun disappears.”

Melodie took the ladle from Busara. If she drank the potion, she couldn’t go ashore and find Rafe. She handed the ladle back to the old woman. “I can’t.”

“This is your only chance to be a mermaid forever. I cannot recreate de mixture without another scale from Poseidon’s tail and this is only good for a couple hours.”

She’d wanted this for so long, but now, her own needs were secondary to protecting Siren’s Cove and Busara from Braithwaite’s destruction. “So be it.” She untied her wrap and walked into the cove.

“Melodie? Where are you going?” Kanoni called out to her.

“Hush, child. She knows where. ’Tis all dat matter.”

Rafe sat with his back to the wall in the Gold Doubloon Tavern on Devil’s Island, his hand resting on the heel of his cutlass. He’d come with Seumus to recruit cutthroats and mercenaries to fight against Braithwaite’s army of British sailors due to attack Siren’s Cove on the morrow. A part of him resisted the idea of opposing his own countrymen. From what the Carib peoples reported, Braithwaite had replaced those against his “methods” with less conscientious rogues, easing the burden of guilt from Rafe’s mind.

Thus far, they’d secured the services of twenty men of questionable background, with one thing in common. They’d all been thwarted by the new governor in one manner or another.

Seumus had stepped out to talk particulars with another potential crew member, leaving Rafe tapping the edge of his heavy pewter stein against the stained wooden table. He sat with muscles tensed, ready at a moment’s notice to quit the foul-smelling establishment.

A buxom tavern wench sashayed in front of him and deposited a pint of ale, displaying a pendulous pair of breasts large enough to smother a careless man. “Care fer more ale or anything else yer heart desires?” She sidled up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “I could do a bit more than serve yer drinkin’ needs, if ye get me drift.” She reeked of stale alcohol and smoke and her hair lay in greasy curls around her head like a pile of soiled rags.

Much control went into suppressing his revulsion. “No, thank you. I’ve business to conduct.”

“I could be a little business fer ye.” She pulled the front of her chemise down exposing a rounded nipple large enough to suckle a bull calf.

“His business is with me, so leave.” The familiar, feminine voice spoke from behind the rounded bar maid.

When the tavern wench turned, she revealed the woman standing behind her. Flaxen hair and mocha skin stood out in the course establishment, garnering the attention of all the other men. Dressed in a similar style as the dirty tavern wench, she looked amazing and tempting all at once.

Rafe couldn’t decide whether he should throttle her or hug her. His cock pushed for the hug—anything to get close to the temptress of his thoughts.

The tavern wench planted her fists on her hips. “Ye think ye can make me leave?”

Men turned at the sound of her raised voice, their leering grins giving Rafe an uneasy feeling and a distinct twinge of something very like jealousy.

“No,” Melodie replied in a low, calm, yet firm voice. “I would hope you’d have the decency to step aside and let me conduct my business with the gentleman.”

A smile tugged at Rafe’s lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. How would she squirm her way out of this confrontation? She deserved a little shaking up for taking the risk of coming to Devil’s Island on her own.

“I say he’s mine.” The wench planted her heavy hands on Melodie’s shoulders and shoved her hard enough to send her reeling into a toothless pirate’s lap.

Rafe leaped to his feet.

“Now, I see’s ye be wantin’ some of what I ’ave to offer.” The barmaid stuck out her over-large breasts, blocking Rafe’s path to Melodie.

He grabbed her shoulders and smiled down at her. “I said no thank you.” Then he set her to the side and strode across the floor.

Trapped by the filthy hands of a drunken ruffian, Melodie fought and kicked. “Let me go, you dirty pirate!”

His hands groped the front of her dress, ripping the bodice down, exposing her lovely breasts to the cheers of the crowd.

White-hot rage roared through Rafe’s veins and he jerked the pirate up by his matted hair.

The pirate screamed like a woman and dropped his hold on Melodie.

She tumbled into a heap at his feet and scrambled away, pulling the tattered remains of her dress over herself.

Rafe held the man up by the hair with one hand, while clutching his throat with the other. “Do not ever lay your hands on this woman again, or I’ll slit your neck from ear to ear and toss you to the sharks.”

The man gurgled; his lips moved but no words made it past his vocal chords. When his face turned an alarming shade of blue, Rafe shoved him over the table into another man’s chest. Men scrambled to get out of the way of the angry lord, leaving Melodie standing alone.

Rafe grabbed her by the hand and jerked her against his chest. “You’re coming with me.” Without pause, he tossed her over his shoulder and strode out of the tavern to the cheers of the men left behind.

“Put me down!” Melodie gasped. Between having her stomach smashed against Rafe’s brawny shoulder and being bounced through the busy port at Devil’s Island, she could barely breathe.

A man with steely gray hair and a shaggy beard joined them and ran to keep pace with her captor.

“I can walk by myself.” When he didn’t respond, she pounded Rafe’s back. “Put me down, at once.”

He smacked a large palm against her bottom. “Keep quiet, woman.”

“I’ll take ’er when yer done with the bonny lass,” a man with only two teeth shouted from the entrance to an even more disagreeable tavern than the Golden Doubloon.

Melodie trembled, fighting the nausea rising up her throat. She’d never seen Rafe in such a state, rage burning in the dark red color of his face. What did he hope to accomplish by carrying her through the streets like a common trollop?

Her own anger built. When they reached the docks and Rafe set her on her feet, she flew at him with both fists clenched. “How dare you treat me like a child or worse, a whore?”

“Be quiet and get in the boat.” Before she could formulate a sharp retort, he picked her up and tossed her into the dingy tied to the dock. He turned to the man who’d followed them. “The men?”

“Already aboard the Serpent’s Curse, Capt’n.” He waved his hand toward the rocking boat where Melodie stood, ready to climb back out. “After ye, sir.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Melodie reached up to grasp the pier and pull herself out of the swaying dingy.

“You will sit and hold your tongue, woman.” Rafe dropped into the boat, took his seat and pulled her onto his lap. “Let’s be off, Seumus before someone decides to challenge us for her. I may be tempted to let them have her.”

“Aye, Capt’n.” He untied the rope from the pier and stepped into the skiff. Applying his back to the oars, he struck out across the bay to a lone sloop resting in deeper waters.

“And to think I came out here to ask for your help. I’ll be boiled in oil before I ask for anything from you.” She wiggled in an attempt to shake free of his stranglehold on her body. The movement made her aware of her affect on his desires. A hard ridge pressed against her bottom, reminding her of the things he’d done to her on the seashore, of his cock sliding in and out of her pussy.

Just as quickly as it had built, her anger shifted into an equally fiery passion. She rationalized to herself that Rafe had rescued her from a ruffian. That should count for something. So, he’d been a bit abrupt in his method of removing her from danger, but he’d gotten her out relatively unscathed. She squirmed against his cock.

A low moan sounded in her ear. “Be still, wench,” he whispered so low that the other man would not hear.

If not for the man facing them in the tiny boat, she’d have been tempted to shuck her clothing and attack Rafe in an entirely different manner.

Instead, she attempted to revive her anger, reminding herself she’d been treated poorly. She had yet to tell him of Braithwaite’s pending attack on Siren’s Cove and she still needed his help. “I can sit on the seat next to you, you know.”

His hands tightened on her waist. “I like you just where you are.”

“Can no argue wit the Capt’n. Yer a bonny lass.” Seumus’s gaze drifted to the ample amount of skin exposed by the tear in the dress she’d stolen from a laundry line on Devil’s Island.

She gathered the edges, pushing them higher, while glaring at the man’s leering gaze.

“Tell me, Melodie, why were you on Devil’s Island?” Rafe turned her enough to stare at her eye-to-eye.

She swallowed her anger and anything else she’d been feeling. “Siren’s Cove is in danger. Lord Braithwaite’s preparing an attack as we speak. He plans to invade the cove tomorrow night. We need your help to stop him.”

“And why should we stop him?” Rafe’s brows rose. “You’ve yet to tell me why the cove is so precious.”

Melodie bit hard on her lower lip and shot a glance at Seumus. “I can’t tell you.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

“Oh, you!” She raised a hand to slap his face. But he caught it in his own.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I told you,” she said through gritted teeth, “I can’t.”

“Guess you’ll be my permanent guest until after Braithwaite does his deed.”

“If you won’t help me, then at least let me go so that I might help them myself.”

“No.” His answer was flat and final.

She bucked against him, kicking and biting, but no amount of effort broke his grip. When she finally realized the futility of her fight, they’d reached the ship.

“Toss down a rope,” he called up to the tall redhead leaning over the rail.

“Aye, Capt’n.”

A length of rope fell into the boat and a rope ladder snaked down the side of the sloop.

Rafe bound her hands.

Even if she wanted to leap from the skiff into the sea, she’d be weighed down by clothing and her hands would be useless. She’d drown before she could make the change into her mer-form. “You’re a monster!”

He stared into her eyes—his own were black, shining orbs, completely unreadable and dangerous. “Aye, I am a monster, in more ways than you know.”

Once again, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her up the rope ladder to deposit her on her ass on the deck. “Take her to my cabin.”

“Aye, Capt’n.” The tall redheaded sailor grinned and lifted her as if she weighed nothing, carrying her more like a child than a sack of meal. At least he had more sense than his captain. When he set her down on the floor of the captain’s cabin, she turned and pleaded, “Please, you must let me go. Braithwaite will attack Siren’s Cove on the morrow and I must be there to help defend it.”

“My apologies, my lady. Until the captain says so, I can’t let you go.” He backed out of the cabin, his departure followed by the soft click of the lock being turned.

With her hands tied behind her back, Melodie had little hope of breaking out of the cabin. She searched the room for a knife, sword, or anything sharp to scrape against her bonds, finally settling on the rusty hinge of a trunk. Dropping to her knees she scooted her back to the trunk and scraped the rope against the hinge. A strand broke and she could move her wrists a little better, but she had a way to go before she could free her hands.

Digging against the hinge, she worked at the rope, scraping the skin off her wrist in the process. Another strand broke. She jerked and tugged her wrists until the rope burned her skin and finally, she managed to free her hands at last.

As she stood, shaking the feeling back into her fingers, the door opened.

Melodie shoved her hands behind her back.

Rafe strode in and kicked the door shut behind him. “Now that we’re alone, you’ll tell me what the witch is protecting in Siren’s Cove.”

“No, I won’t.”

A frown settled between his brows and he marched across to her, grabbing her shoulders. “You will tell me, now.”

“I will not.” She jerked her hands up through the middle of his, knocking his hands free of her shoulders. While she had him off guard and off balance, she shoved him hard.

The back of his legs caught the edge of a trunk and he fell backward.

Melodie raced for the door, throwing it open.

Before she reached the top of the gangway, a hand caught her thigh.

“Stop, woman!” Rafe bellowed.

She grabbed the handrail and kicked out at her tormentor, landing a heel on his chin.

He grunted, but maintained his grip on her leg, dragging her backward until he held her in the vicelike grip of his arms.

“Let me go. I have to help Busara.”

Rafe carried her back into his cabin, kicked the door shut and turned to lock it. After dropping the key into a drawer in a built-in cabinet, he turned her to face him.

Locking her arms against her sides with one of his arms, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead.

A pang of guilt burned in her gut at the angry red mark marring his chin where she’d kicked him.

“You will tell me what secret the Obeah woman keeps in the cove before the night is over.”