A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) Read online

“Hannah,” her father warned.

  Jacques turned to her father. “Le Capitaine Kane O’Brien rescued you?”

  “Do you know him?” Hannah asked.

  “Oui, I know him.” His eyes narrowed. “We have tangled before.” Jacques held Hannah’s gaze and he lowered his voice, “You did tell him you were betrothed, didn’t you?”

  Hannah blinked. “I…”

  “Of course, we did,” her father sputtered. He mopped his red face with a handkerchief, which matched his stretched pink-colored knee length breeches.

  “S’il vous plait, Monsieur, I meant for the mademoiselle to answer.”

  Her heart pounding, she shifted in her chair and her hand clutched the dagger’s handle underneath her dress. She tilted her chin. “Enough about Kane.”

  His cheek twitched. “You referred to Le Capitaine by his first name, mademoiselle?”

  This wasn’t going well and she sank deeper into the sofa. Desperate to change the subject, she blurted, “Did you know monsieur the crew of the Fiery Damsel becomes vampires and kills all who they encounter?”

  Jacques stared. “Excusez-moi? Vampires? You indeed have had too much sun.”

  Concern filled her uncle’s eyes. “Hannah, you’re speaking nonsense. I think you need to lie down. Don’t you agree Justin?”

  “No, dear brother, what she says is true.” Her father sipped his wine.

  “What?” Uncle and Jacques said simultaneously.

  Her father nodded. “But we can kill them during the day time.”

  “No, you can’t.” Hannah stood. “They’re immortal. They’re awake during the day.”

  Jacques flashed his gaze over her. “How do you know this?”

  She wanted to shout that her eyes were on her head, not her chest, and folded her arms over her breasts. “Kane told me. Palmer and his crew drank from a fresh water lake that a demon cursed.”

  He stared into her eyes. “A demon? I think you’re naive and Le Capitaine spun this tale to keep you frightened so he could keep you close to him and take certain liberties.”

  She scowled. “No. He never took advantage of me. And ’tis true. There’s a demon.”

  “Demons? Vampires? ’Tis hard to fathom, mademoiselle.”

  “The Fiery Damsel attacked us and killed our crew.” She gritted her teeth. “They’re hunting father and me.”

  “What? Why?” Her uncle demanded.

  Her father shifted in his chair as if he sat on hot coals.

  Jacques rubbed his chin, looking between her and her father. “So, monsieur, is this true? Is Palmer looking for both of you?”

  Her father drained his glass. “Yes, he is. ’Tis because I testified against him and the judge sent him to Newgate for stealing from me.”

  “Father!”

  Jacques lifted his eyebrow. “This isn’t so?”

  Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. “No, ’tis not.”

  “Hannah, hold your tongue,” her father warned, but she didn’t heed his chilling stare.

  “Palmer’s looking for us, because father left three sailors on an island infected with small pox that wiped out most the native population. The Shaman prayed to his God who sent a demon to curse a lake and anyone who drinks from it becomes a vampire during every full moon.”

  “I see,” Jacques lowered his head and put his hands behind his lower back.

  Hannah bristled. She wanted to shake him to get him to listen. “That’s why I must return to England.”

  Rigid Jacques’ face reddened. “What?”

  “I’m in danger.”

  “Mademoiselle, you are quite safe and I won’t hear any more of this talk.” He waved his hand, dismissing her and glared at her father. “You’re in agreement with her, monsieur?”

  “No, no, Jacques,” her father blubbered. “The engagement is still on.” He shot an icy eye at Hannah. “She’ll marry you as we agreed.”

  “See to it. I don’t like to be double crossed.”

  Sweat trickled down her father’s temple. “I said she would, Jacques,” he said.

  Jacques clutched her chin, his fingers biting into her flesh, and forced her to look into his eyes. “You’re my fiancée, and I won’t have you pining over O’Brien.”

  Hannah twisted her head, but Jacques refused to release her.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  His scowl chilled her blood. He’d kill her, literally, when he discovered she was no longer a virgin.

  Her heart pounding, Hannah peered into his cruel eyes and lied, “Yes.”

  He released her. “Good.”

  She rubbed her throbbing chin. The man was a bastard and she refused to be married to him.

  He bent over and whispered in her ear. “If you disobey me, mademoiselle, you’ll find out what happens when women betray me.”

  Hannah flinched. She slid her shaking hands into the folds of her skirt, wishing she could whip out her dagger and stab him in the heart. She fought back tears. Kane was right. This man was dangerous. Deadly dangerous.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’ve sent for Captain Keats,” the Governor said. “I’ll order him to pursue those Fiery Damsel devils.”

  “Don’t worry, ma chere, we’ll hunt down Quinton Palmer and make him pay for his sins!” Jacques raised his goblet to his lips and tossed his head back, gulping a huge swallow of wine.

  The man was a buffoon. She couldn’t prevent them from going after the Fiery Damsel, but she could make Jacques pay for his crowing.

  Hannah stared at the goblet, gathered her powers.

  As he lowered the glass, she causally flicked her wrist. The glass cracked, shattering into a million slivers. Golden liquid splattered, staining the wood floor. “Mon Dieu!” Jacques shook his hand. Blood dripped down his middle finger.

  “Jacques, are you hurt?” her uncle asked.

  “Oui.”

  She bit back a grin.

  “Hannah,” father scolded.

  Hannah shrugged.

  Jacques gave her a curious look as he sucked his finger. “I don’t know why the glass broke. I wasn’t holding it tight. You must have faulty glasses, Governor.”

  “Nonsense! I’ve nothing but the best crystal.” His saucer eyes widening, Uncle stared down at the floor and scanned the room. “Sweet Jesus, is the demon here? What could have caused that?”

  “Idiot,” Jacques said. “Certainement pas! You’re letting your imagination run wild.”

  Hannah bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. If they only knew…

  The butler walked into the room and bowed to her uncle. “Excuse me, Governor, but Captain Keats’s here to see you.”

  Hannah’s mood soured.

  A blond British naval officer entered the room. Silver sleeve badges gleamed on his blue silk waistcoast. He stepped over the glass and cocked his eyebrow. “You sent for me, sir?”

  “Ahh, Captain. This is my brother, Captain Knight and my niece, Hannah Knight. Captain Palmer of the Fiery Damsel sank their ship and murdered their crew. I want you to hunt them down and bring them back to Saint Kitts to be hanged.”

  “Tell him, Uncle, or I will.”

  Uncle wiped his brow with a lacey handkerchief. “Oh, uh, yes. Lieutenant, supposedly the crew turns into vampires at night so you’ll have to attack them during the day. They must hide in a cove somewhere so they can sleep. Foul things only come out at night? Isn’t that the legend?”

  Captain Keats’s mouth fell open, and he looked at her uncle like he was ready for Bedlam. “What? I’m sorry. Did you say vampires?”

  Hannah stuck out her chin. “They’re real, Captain Keats.” She gave him a piercing stare, daring him to argue. “Don’t think these pirates sleep during the day. If you go after them, then you and your men are dead.”

  Keats cocked his eyebrow again. “Vampires?” He grinned. “I’m not even sure how to kill one.”

  Her palms itched to slap his patronizing look, but she held her hands tight in her lap, her fingern
ails digging into her flesh.

  “I believe,” Uncle tapped his double chin, “you stab a vampire through the heart. Yes, yes, that’s how you kill one.”

  “Uncle,” she gritted her teeth. “John Vane, our boatswain stabbed one through the heart and the pirate laughed. The pirate grabbed John, who was taller and stronger than all of you, and he sank his teeth into his neck, sucked him dry and tossed him overboard.” She folded her arms across her chest. “A stake through the heart’s a falsehood. They’d laugh and rip out your throat.”

  The clock chimed three times. Her father stared straight ahead, his face pale and his eyes slowly widening, like he was reliving the horror. Her uncle made the sign of the cross. Jacques’s face was immobile.

  Keats held her gaze and frowned. “So, if what you say is true, how do we kill them?”

  “If you can capture them, find the Soaring Phoenix. The crew aboard that ship knows how to kill them. ’Tis your only chance.”

  “Hannah, you don’t know that!” Her father slammed his glass down on an end table. “You’ve your orders, Captain. Now, carry them out.”

  “You heard him.” Her uncle flicked his hand. “Carry out your orders.”

  Hannah glanced at her father, Uncle and Jacques. They were sending these men to their deaths. Her father was repeating history. All to save himself.

  She darted off the chair and grabbed the Captain’s arm. “Please listen to me. Find Kane O’Brien. You don’t want to face the Fiery Damsel without him.”

  Captain Keats smiled and patted her hand. “I will, miss. Don’t worry.”

  Hannah sagged and dropped her hand. He was lying. He saluted her and winked, whirled on his heels and exited. She fixed a frown at her father. “I can’t believe you.”

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “His Majesty’s Royal Navy will sink the Fiery Damsel to the bottom of the sea.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a fool and a murderer.”

  “Hannah,” her father and uncle warned simultaneously.

  Jacques marched over to her and grabbed her, his hand biting into her flesh. She jerked but he only tightened his grip. “Monsieur. I demand you release me.”

  “Hannah, you appear to be losing your sanity.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’re no such things as vampires. Your father’s crew was actually ill equipped to fight a pirate ship.”

  Hannah sucked in her breath. “You won’t say this sir when the Fiery Damsel attacks Saint Kitts hunting for me.”

  He relaxed his grip. She yanked her arm free and rubbed her throbbing arm. Jacques was everything she didn’t want in a man.

  Arrogant. Dictatorial. Cruel.

  She peered out the bay window, facing the ocean. British ships were docked in the harbor, but soon, those very ships would challenge an adversary beyond their experience and innocent men would die. Would Kane help them? Could she get word to him?

  Jacques leaned close to her. “Palmer won’t attack Saint Kitts.”

  She stepped away, her fingers clutching her arm. “How do you know this?”

  “Because I know him. We’ve had dealings before and he’s never tried to bite me.”

  Hannah’s heart pounded and her stomach churned. Her hand slid to her thigh and gripped the dagger handle. Wait. William never said Jacques wasn’t a vampire. “So, you’re a…”

  “Vampire?” Jacques tilted his head back and laughed. “Hardly, I’d a lucrative business until O'Brien interfered.”

  “Yes, I know,” Hannah said. “Slave trading.”

  Her father snorted. “What did the bastard do to you, Jacques?”

  “Besides sinking my ship, he stole some of my property. Don’t look so prudish Mademoiselle. Plantations couldn’t thrive without slaves here or in the American colonies. So, tell me…” Jacques brushed his finger over her cheek. “Did you see any escaped slaves aboard his ship?”

  Hannah cringed from his cold touch. “What?”

  “Oui, I take it you saw them? Two of them. One was called Amadi, the other Nahjil. The slaves referred to Nahjil as Doc.”

  “Yes, we encountered the bastards,” her father mumbled.

  She snarled at her father. How could he be so cold? Doc had cared for him when he was injured and when he was sick. And he made sure father was comfortable in the brig.

  Jacques gritted his teeth, “I’ll have O’Brien hung for harboring runaway slaves.”

  “No,” Hannah cried.

  “Ever since Amadi and Nahjil have escaped, the slaves have been rebelling against me. I won’t have my authority challenged. ’Tis O’Brien’s fault. He should have returned my property.”

  Hannah surged with pride. Good for Kane. He was an honorable man, not like the three in the sitting room. “So you’ve no ship?”

  “My plantation is quite profitable, mademoiselle. I assure you I’ve purchased another ship and am quite capable of hunting down O’Brien.”

  Jacques flashed his gaze over her, sending chills down to her toes.

  She swallowed. She had to get away. To keep Kane safe.

  Mary walked into the room and curtsied to the governor. “Excuse me, Gov’nor, but dinner be ready as you requested.”

  “Thank you, Mary.” Uncle motioned. “Let us retire for dinner and forget all this dismal talk. I for one could use a good distraction.” He pointed to the floor. “Mary, have one of the servants clean this mess up.”

  Jacques put his hand on Hannah’s lower back and escorted her into the dining room. He pulled out her chair and leaned closer, his scent of overripe oranges suffocating her. “Ma chere, soon you’ll appreciate my touch.”

  She clutched her dagger beneath her dress folds. If he took another liberty, he’d be the one with the stake through his black heart.

  A chandelier hung over a large narrow table of the dining room. Large French doors opened to a white porch. Wine glasses and fine china decorated the table along with a magnificent feast of steamed lobsters. Small bowls contained melted butter. Larger bowls of white rice and buttered yams sat on either end of the table. A basket of freshly baked bread was in the middle of the table. On dessert plates were sliced papayas and mangoes.

  Jacques sat next to her and leaned too close, his eyes peering down her gown.

  She cocked her eyebrow. “Do you mind?”

  He gave her a cruel smile. “As my wife, I like to appreciate what’s mine. You’d do well to remember this.”

  She’d rather be a spinster. How could she endure his touch after lying with Kane? Simple. She couldn’t.

  He stuffed a piece of fruit in his mouth and leered at her.

  Gazing at her in triumph, Jacques popped another piece of mango in his mouth. “Hannah, you’ll be expected to run my household and make sure all is in order, especially the servants and slaves.”

  Her father nodded approvingly. “I assure you she has been thoroughly trained in how to run a household.”

  “I expect strict obedience.” He tapped his chest. “If not, ’tis a reflection on me.”

  He waved his hand and knocked over a goblet of ice water, spilling it onto his lap.

  “Mon Dieu!” Jacques jumped out of his chair.

  Hannah smirked and hoped ’twas nice and cold.

  He glared at the little maid who came into the room carrying a pitcher of water. “You stupid little fool.”

  The maid shrank. “What, master?”

  “Bertha, you put Monsieur D’Aubigne’s glass to the edge of the table and it spilled on him,” her uncle rebuked.

  Bertha’s lower lip trembled and she took a step back. “No, I didn’t. I swears I didn’t.”

  His hand raised, Jacques marched over to her. “You’ll pay for your insolence.”

  “Monsieur, no,” Hannah commanded.

  He stopped. “What did you say?”

  “You were the one who was clumsy and you blame her.”

  “Hannah,” her father scolded.

  Jacques’s face darkened, he stormed ov
er and towered above her. “I’d not address me in such a way. You’re to be my wife and will treat me with respect.”

  She stiffened. “You earn respect, monsieur. Beating a young girl deserves none.”

  He sat and lowered his voice, “I’ll show you respect.”

  Hannah bit back another retort. Bertha stared at her with her eyes saucer-wide and her mouth opened. Her hands shaking, she placed the pitcher next to Hannah and hurried back into the kitchen.

  “She’s strong-willed Jacques, but I’m sure a man like you will be able to control her.”

  Hannah gawked at her father. Her stomach tightened and bile rose in her throat.

  How could Kane leave her to marry such a man? Did he even care about her? He liked her body, but was that all? Maybe her hopes for him had been too high.

  Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to get through the meal, trying not to give Jacques another reason to beat her. She’d given him plenty tonight. She drained another glass of wine, wanting to block out her living nightmare.

  Jacques tapped his fingers on the table. “That is your fourth glass.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry.” She put her elbows on the table and rubbed her temples. “’Tis this terrible headache. I thought the wine would make it better, but ’tis made it worse.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jacques said.

  She glanced at him, trying to play the good wife. “May I be excused? I think I need to go to bed.”

  “Oui, oui.”

  She stood and swayed, cursing the wine. All three men rose when she did, but their gentlemanly behavior didn’t impress her. Cruelty and selfishness ruled them.

  “Do you need assistance, Ma chere? I can help you up to your room.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can go up by myself.” She gripped the back of the chair to keep from falling.

  “No you’re quite inebriated. I’ll escort you.”

  Jacques grabbed her tender arm and she winced. He whirled her out of the dining room and nearly dragged her to the stairs. Her muddled mind refused to focus. “Stop please.”

  A thin smile slithered across his face. “Of course, mademoiselle.”

  Hannah stumbled and peered into his faces. He stepped closer to her. His citric cologne smothered her. Did the man bathe in it? She edged backwards. “Monsieur, please.”