Raven Quest Read online

Nathan said nothing as he followed Rory back to the moonlit beach. As they walked back toward the city, the boy stared at the book and the box.

  “Odd gifts to celebrate the anniversary of your birth,” Nathan murmured.

  “If it is my birthday. The Blindman likes to jest.”

  “You don’t know your birthday?”

  “My mother is dead. My father abandoned us. I heard he died before I was born.” With a stiff smile, he shoved the box and book into the pocket under his breeches. “Birthdays do not mean much when no one wanted you to be born in the first place.”

  “I—”

  Rory seized his arm. “Captain Lawler! Look out!”

  He whirled at Rory’s shout. Men leaped from the shadows. He saw the boy turn to run. Was this a trap? He should never have trusted the blasted imp.

  Nathan was down before he could pull his gun. He twisted free, but the man tried to pin him again. Nathan met him with a bare blade. The man’s shriek rang along the strand.

  Jumping to his feet, Nathan saw the other men fleeing. He wiped his knife on the dead man’s shirt and swore as he saw another body lying on the sand.

  “Rory!” he shouted.

  He got no answer. Hurtling over the corpse, he knelt next to Rory. He put his hand on the boy’s chest. No heartbeat! He cursed, then realized the whisper of warmth against his arm was the boy’s breath. Putting his fingers to the boy’s throat, he found a steady beat there. An ache across his head threatened to send him into oblivion, but he fought it as he groped for the lad’s chest again. Why was the boy wearing such thick undergarments in this heat?

  If he stayed here long enough to figure that out, the attackers might return. He had to get both of them out of here before they were dead.

  He angled the lad’s head toward him, then cursed. Blood trickled down Rory’s left cheek. He slipped his arms under the slight body and lifted it carefully. His knees foundered beneath him, and he sat hard.

  He should take the boy somewhere where someone could tend to his wounds. The Blindman? They were closer to Port Royal than the hut. The whores? They might ignore the lad. If Rory died, he guessed the Blindman would never give him the information he needed.

  Struggling to his feet, Nathan saw the Vengeance in the harbor. Ernest was a good leech. He would take Rory there. He and his crew had given up too much to find the Raven’s gold. They would not be stopped by this.

  His steps faltered. Had it been random? Another reason to get out of Port Royal with all speed.

  He lurched to the wharf, where Alfred was waiting, he ordered, with the lighter. Nathan was glad to see that. The cook had not been happy about waiting while Nathan went to Yellow Hal’s place.

  Splashing through the water, Alfred called, “What is that, Cap’n?”

  He cursed when pain seared through his head. “The boy saved my life, so the least we can do is patch him up.”

  Alfred steadied the boat as Nathan climbed in and placed Rory on the bottom, which was damp with bilge. Hoping the reeking water would rouse the lad came to naught. Save for the blood inching along his cheek, the boy could have been asleep. He checked the beat along Rory’s throat again. It was still strong.

  By the time they reached the Vengeance, the dull throb in Nathan’s head had become an explosion. His eyes blurred as he shouted up to have a litter lowered for Rory. Fighting to keep his footing, he grabbed the rope ladder and scrambled aboard before his knees gave out altogether.

  His crew clustered around as Ernest guided the litter to the deck. Nathan knelt next to Rory. The lad must be hurt badly if he still was not awake.

  “Is he dead?” asked Ernest.

  “No, knocked senseless,” Nathan replied, struggling to keep his own wits about him. A lantern was held high. “How bad is he?”

  Ernest pushed back the cloth around the boy’s head to reveal golden hair. “Looks bad, but ’tis just a scratch.” Sitting back on his heels, he asked, “What happened?”

  “We were ambushed. If not for Rory’s warning, I might be fish bait now.”

  “How ’bout you, Cap’n?”

  “Don’t worry about me right now. See to the lad.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” When Ernest drew off the floppy hat Rory wore, the scarf fell away. “What in—?”

  Nathan stared as a river of gold hair flowed across the deck. He picked up a strand of the silk, not sure he could believe his eyes. Snarling an oath, he ripped open Rory’s shirt. He pushed aside a tarnished chain that held a charm and a small pouch. He stared at the binding around his—no, her chest.

  “A woman!” exclaimed Ernest, as the other crewman pushed forward. “I’ll be cuckolded and called the king’s fool!”

  As he stared at Rory’s face, softened with senselessness, Nathan wondered how he could have been so stupid. The delicate curves of her face were unquestionably pretty. She was slim-waisted, and he suspected the breasts hiding beneath the binding would offer much pleasure to a man. Recalling how her fiery eyes snapped at him, he imagined that passion surging all around him.

  He cursed and drew her shirt closed. This was going to complicate things. If the Blindman was to learn Rory was a woman … Nathan swore again. The old man knew! That explained his amusement tonight.

  Standing, he said, “She is hurt. She needs to be in bed.”

  Ernest chuckled. “A woman that lovely should be in bed.”

  “Enough, Mr. Dawes.”

  Ernest’s smile vanished. “Where shall I have the boys put her?”

  “My cabin.” He ignored the muffled laughs. It was the only place on the ship where he could post a guard and be sure Rory did not try to flee the moment she woke. “And I can carry her there.”

  “Are you certain, Cap’n?”

  He was not, but he gathered her into his arms and forced his knees to hold him. Gazing at the face against his shoulder and feeling her hair along his arm, he wondered how he could have believed she was a boy.

  “What are you going to do with her, Cap’n?” asked Ernest as he walked beside Nathan toward the cabin.

  “I have promised to get her to Santiago de Cuba.”

  “Are you insane? You know what a crew would do to her before Port Royal had vanished over the horizon.” His eyes slitted, but rage glittered in them. “Or do you give her to the cap’n for his use during the voyage?”

  “Rory can take care of herself.”

  “Here maybe.”

  It was easier to walk on the swaying deck than the steady earth when his head seemed so light. “If I want the answer to our riddle, I must see she goes to Santiago de Cuba.”

  “You found the answer, Cap’n?”

  “I found someone who claims to know. Rory’s passage is the price.”

  “I thought you had paid her.”

  Nathan waited for Ernest to open the door to his quarters at the stern. “I paid Rory. This is the Blind-man’s price. Ernest, go to Yellow Hal’s place, and tell the whore named Olive that Rory will be delayed. Nothing else.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” He smiled. “If Olive is as pretty as young Rory, I may be delayed, too.”

  Nathan laughed. Olive would be in for a surprise if she accepted Ernest’s gold. There had been the stories from Port-au-Paix on Hispaniola … Not now! He needed to think of Rory.

  He ducked and maneuvered Rory through the narrow door. He edged around the table. For one person, these quarters were comfortable. For two, cozy. More made the room as crowded as an overstuffed sea chest.

  He placed Rory on the bed built against the stern. Brushing sand from her face, he put a bandage over the wound. She must have been knocked unconscious before she could draw her knife.

  Nathan ignored the renewed pang in his own head as he lifted the bottom of her shirt and removed the knife. He plucked the small box and the book the Blindman had given her from her pocket. He set them on the shelf over the bed, but his fingers lingered on the pleasing curve of her hip. Staring at the tawny hair drifting across his pillow, he was startled at t
he flush of craving that ached more acutely than his skull.

  How could he have been so blind? Her golden lashes rested on her downy cheeks. The soft line of her lips parted with each strained breath. From the side, he slit the fabric over her chest. A mistake, he knew right away. Although she breathed more easily, he could not pull his gaze from the slow rise and fall of her breasts pressing against her chemise.

  He turned his back on her, his breathing rough. Slapping his hand on the table, he looked over his shoulder when he heard her low moan. She shifted, but her eyes did not open. With a groan of his own, he covered her with a thin blanket.

  He paused as he went to the door. She had, with her warning, saved his life tonight. He would never forget that.

  Three

  Pain seared through Rory’s head. She struggled to remember what had happened to her. Had she been caught in the middle of a brawl? No, she knew to avoid those.

  The bed moved under her. She gripped the mattress. Earthquake? Tremors often shook the shore but not with this steady, constant motion.

  Something damp was placed on her head. It was wondrous, easing the pain. She put up her fingers to discover what it was when her wrist was grasped. What was going on? No one should be in her room. She dragged her eyes open.

  “Captain Lawler!” she choked. His dark hair tumbled forward into his eyes, but he brushed it aside. His waistcoat was gone, and he wore a shirt opened halfway down his chest to reveal his strong muscles. She shifted her gaze back to his scowl.

  “Are you awake, Rory? I should have you whipped to within an inch of your life.”

  “I think I am.” She closed her eyes. “Where am I?”

  “On the Vengeance.”

  She glanced around the chamber, which was even smaller than her room—a table, a chair, a chest. “Your ship?”

  He nodded. “I need you on your feet when we go back to the Blindman.”

  “The Blindman …” She recalled their visit to her friend. And on the way back. She winced. “I should have let them jump you.”

  “They did.” He chuckled. “However, you took the brunt of it, Rory, if Rory is really your name.”

  “My name is Rory Mullins. I told you that.” She fought the agony whirling across her head.

  Captain Lawler put another cloth on her forehead. “Rory is not a lass’s name.”

  “How hard were you hit on the head, Captain Lawler?”

  “Hard enough to knock some sense into it.” He picked up a strand of her hair and dangled it before her eyes.

  Rory drew back, horrified. “You are mistaken. If—”

  He caught her by the shoulders and brought her up to sit. When she pressed her hands to her aching head, he grasped them and held them to her chest. She gasped, realizing the quilted binder was gone, along with half the buttons on her shirt.

  “I am not mistaken.” A tight smile uncurled along his lips. “Don’t worry. I did not take advantage of your lost senses to steal your virginity from you.” He laughed shortly. “If it still exists.”

  “Do you think I would dress like this if I wanted a lover?”

  He handed her the cloth, and she leaned back against the wall as she held it to her forehead. Closing her eyes, she wished she could go back to the moment Nathan Lawler had first come to Yellow Hal’s place. She would hide until he left.

  When he cupped her chin, he tipped her face up so she could not avoid his gaze. It was as fierce as his voice. “I want the truth. What is your real name?”

  “If you must know, my real name is Aurora.”

  “Aurora?” He smiled and sat on the bed. “Now that is the perfect name for you because your eyes are the blue of the sea at dawn.”

  “Do not waste fancy words on me, Captain. If you want a woman to cozy up to you, find yourself a whore.”

  “Are you Yellow Hal’s daughter?”

  “He does not even know I exist. My father is dead. He left my mother and me to die in Port Royal. My mother did, but I have survived.” She drew her knees up to her chest and clasped her arms around them. “He saddled me with a name I hate and left me to take care of myself.”

  “Mullins?”

  “No. That bastard left instructions that his bastard should be called Aurora Raven Mullins. After his blasted ship.”

  “Raven?” he choked. “Aurora Raven?”

  Rory’s eyes narrowed. Too many people had laughed at her name. That was why she had been glad to be called Rory while she was shifted from one relative to another until most of them had forgotten whose child she was. But no one had gaped at her like this. “Do not blame me for my father’s foolishness!”

  “Father? You are Stuart Powell’s daughter?” He stood and stared down at her.

  “That is what they tell me.”

  When Captain Lawler turned his back on her, she heard him mumble, “Raven. Aurora Raven.”

  He must be as mad as she had thought from the beginning. She had to get out of here. She pushed her feet over the side of the bed. When she tried to stand, she groped for the table. Hands caught her by the shoulders. She tried to shrug them off, but her knees had turned to quicksand.

  “Where do you think you are going?” came Captain Lawler’s most demanding voice.

  She raised her eyes to discover his face so close to her own that his breath brushed her lips. His arms enveloped her, and she leaned her face against his firm chest, too dizzy to move. Beneath her ear, his heart beat slower than hers. When his hand curved around her nape, he brought her face beneath his. His mouth grazed hers. The feathery touch sent a fiery flutter through her as his hand moved along her back.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “A kiss to make you feel better.” He laughed. “How about one to make feel me better?”

  Her retort vanished as he claimed her mouth again. His tongue flicked along her bottom lip, tantalizing her lips to part. Boldly, his tongue teased hers. In shock, she pulled away. He laughed and tugged her back to him. As his lips swept along the curve of her neck, she could not keep from softening against him. She should not want him to touch her like this, but she did.

  He smiled as she dropped to sit on the bed. “And I believed you were a boy.” Brushing her hair over her shoulders, he whispered, “You are sweet to kiss.”

  “Don’t say that!” She was the greatest fool in Port Royal. First she allowed her disguise to be compromised; now she let him befuddle her brain with his feverish kisses.

  “’Tis true.” His finger wandered along her arm, and he laughed. “Surely, I am not the first to tell you that.”

  “No, I never—I mean—” Heat coursed up her face.

  “You have never been kissed?” He sat at the table. His smile became cool. “You work in a brothel, and you want me to believe you have never been kissed?”

  “Everyone but Olive and Caroline thinks I am a boy.” She never had been so out of control of a situation, or herself. “Captain Lawler, you cannot tell anyone about this.”

  “About kissing you?” Rocking the chair back on two legs, he set his feet on the table.

  “If the truth gets out, my life will be that of a whore. Captain Lawler—”

  “Nathan.” He leaned forward to twist his fingers through her hair. “I want you to call me Nathan.”

  “You do not tell me what to do!”

  “No?” He raised the strand and ran it along her cheek. “Either you do as I tell you, Aurora Raven Mullins, or I will reveal your little secret to anyone who wants to listen.”

  Rory pulled back in horror. She had believed the eager desire on his lips, but he was just like the other brutes who came into Yellow Hal’s place.

  “All you need to do is help me, Aurora,” he continued, “and I shall leave Port Royal. Then you will not have to worry about your secret.”

  “My name is Rory.”

  “So will you help me, Rory?”

  She clasped her fingers in her lap. “I do not have much choice, do I? What must I do? I will not help
with a murder.”

  “I was not going to ask you to kill anyone for me.” He laughed.

  “And I will not sleep with you.”

  “A worse crime than murder?”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  “Don’t fret. All I want are answers to some questions.” He put his hand over hers. Tracing an aimless pattern along her hand, he raised his eyes. She recoiled from the intensity in them. “Agreed?”

  “Yes, if I can.”

  “What do you know of Stuart Powell and the Raven?”

  “What everyone knows. The Spanish hanged him and the rest of his pirates.” Standing, she said, “I wish they would hang all you pirates.”

  “He was not hanged.”

  She snapped a curse and pushed past him.

  He caught her before she could open the door. Whirling her to face him, he frowned when her knees buckled. He held her against the door. “You are not leaving until you listen to what I have to say.”

  “I have no time for legends and lies.”

  He pulled her toward him. “Listen to the truth, Rory. Stuart Powell was not hanged. He and his ship disappeared after they evaded an attack by rival pirates who were after the gold he had taken from a galleon bound from Mexico. You must realize what that means!”

  “It sank.”

  “Maybe.”

  Rory shivered as she saw the fire in his eyes. She had seen the look before when the talk in the taproom was of lost gold. “Are you trying to find the Raven’s treasure? You fool!”

  “Maybe, but I shall be a wealthy one.” He drew her up against his hard chest. “And you are going to help me.”

  She tried to pull away but froze when his mouth brushed her cheek. By the devil, she was pleasuring him with her motions. Yet not to resist would mean staying here in his arms where.… She sighed as his tongue caressed her earlobe. She cursed and jerked her head away. She must not surrender to this sweet temptation.

  “We could do much for each other,” he murmured.

  “Why do you think I could help you, even if I wanted to?”

  “Because you are the answer to the first line of the riddle that has led me here. You must be the blackbird of the dawn.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Let me go!” Her knee rose.