The Reaper (Pirates of the Coast Book 8) Read online

  She whimpered.

  “Well, perhaps I can stay for tonight.” Blade cursed his miserable hide, even as Charitye calmed.

  “Wonderful. I shall have Miss Hannah prepare a room.” Madalene snapped her fingers, and Jean Marc came alert. “My love, will you see to it?”

  “Of course, Mon Chou.” Then Jean Marc whispered to Blade, “And so it begins.”

  A mournful howl of wind brought Charitye awake, and she rubbed her eyes and gingerly touched the bandage Dr. Sampson used to dress her wound. Slowly, she rolled onto her side, dropped her legs over the edge of the mattress, and sat upright.

  Unlike the previous night, she suffered only mild dizziness. With care, she pushed from the bed and stood. At the window, she drew back the drapes and gazed at the world beyond the glass, as the storm raged.

  Just as quick, another image flashed before her, and she started at the ferocity of the vision. A vast red brick house trimmed in white, with a spectacular view of the Potomac River.

  “Alexandria.” She clutched her throat. “I am from Alexandria, Virginia.”

  “Hello?” Maddie called. “Charitye, are you all right?”

  “Yes, come in, Maddie.” Charitye turned and faced the door, just as the charming hostess entered the room. “Good morning.”

  “And the same to you.” Garbed in an impeccable gown of burgundy silk, with her hair in a perfect chignon, Madalene smiled. “I brought you a warm robe and some slippers. I am sorry that I didn’t think of it last night, but I was not expecting guests, so I hope you will forgive me. And Miss Hannah will bring you a few of my gowns and slippers, to see if anything fits, until Blade and Jean Marc travel into town to locate your belongings. I hope you slept well.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She eased into the robe and belted it tight. “And there is no need to apologize, when I encroached on your hospitality, but I am grateful to you and your husband.” Biting her lip, she reflected on the question foremost on her mind. “Is Mr. Reyson still here?”

  “He is.” Maddie dipped her chin. “He kept his word and stayed the night. In fact, he broke his fast an hour ago, with Jean Marc, and they are determined to ride into town, today.”

  “What do you know of Mr. Reyson?” Given Blade’s propensity for all things heroic, Maddie’s revelation did not surprise Charitye, and she desperately wanted to know more about him. “What is his history?”

  “You will have to ask Jean Marc about that, as I only met Blade yesterday.” For a second, Maddie hesitated and averted her stare. “But he is interested in working for our business, as a merchantman, and Jean Marc believes Blade will do well.”

  “How did Jean Marc meet Blade?” Hungry for the slightest scrap of information on the elusive but lifesaving Captain Reyson, Charitye pressed her hostess. “Were they both in trade?”

  “You could say that.” Maddie strolled to the hearth and stoked the blaze. “It is a tad chilly in here. Shall I have Miss Hannah bring you another blanket? Dr. Sampson insisted you rest and not catch a cold.”

  “Mrs. Cavalier, I have the gowns you asked me to fetch.” Miss Hannah, the friendly housekeeper, carried a stack of garments to the vanity. “Good morning, Miss Charitye. Should I coif your hair and help you dress?”

  “Not today, Miss Hannah.” Maddie wagged a finger. “Miss Charitye is to remain in bed, per doctor’s orders.”

  “But I really do feel much better.” If only she could remember her full name and past, but everything manifested a blank surface. “And I would like to speak with Mr. Reyson, before he ventures into town, if you would be kind enough to summon him.”

  “Are you sure that is wise?” Maddie wrung her fingers. “Dr. Sampson recommended no excitement.”

  “I need to know what manner of man I owe my life.” And she needed reassurance that he would come back to her. Why, she could not explain. “Please, Maddie.”

  “All right.” Maddie signaled Miss Hannah. “But you are to remain calm, and you should get back in bed.”

  “As you wish.” Charitye doffed the robe and draped it at the foot of the bed, before climbing between the covers, which Maddie smoothed. “When is your baby due?”

  “According to Dr. Sampson, any day.” She tucked the blanket beneath Charitye’s chin. “And I know in my heart it is a boy.”

  “Is this your first?” How Charitye longed to have a child.

  “Good heavens, no.” She tittered. “We have four beautiful daughters, at home in Boston.”

  “How marvelous.” Another memory shot to the fore, and Charitye flinched.

  “What is it?” Maddie brushed a curl from Charitye’s face. “What is wrong?”

  “I just recalled something.” She wrestled with a rush of sorrow. So much sorrow. “But I am not certain of the origins.”

  “Remember what Dr. Sampson said.” Maddie eased to the side of the bed. “Do not force it. Let it happen naturally, on its own.”

  The door opened to reveal Blade, or at least a new and improved version of her rescuer.

  “I was told you wished to see me.” His sparkling blue gaze gave her gooseflesh. “Am I interrupting something of importance, because I can come back after I return from town?”

  “Not at all, as my memory seems to be returning in fits and starts, Mr. Reyson, and do come in.” She patted Maddie’s hand. “Thank you so much, for all your support.”

  “I will check on your morning meal.” Maddie gave Charitye’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Ring if you need anything.”

  Maddie and Blade crossed paths, and she exited, and he neared. “Do not upset her, else you will deal with me, and my husband will tell you that you do not want that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” At Charitye, he winked. “You are looking better this morning. Your cheeks are rosy.”

  “I could say the same of you, because I almost didn’t recognize you.” She admired his clean-shaven face and blond hair, which he tied with a leather thong. “You are quite handsome, Mr. Reyson.”

  “A compliment, Miss Charitye?” He favored her with a lopsided grin, as he plopped at her side. “So what did you remember? Is your name really Charitye, or have I been addressing you incorrectly?”

  “That I do not recall, but I know where I am from, because I saw it clearly, as though I stood before my home.” She scooted to sit upright, and he fluffed her pillow, which brought them in close proximity, and she detected a hint of soap and sandalwood. “I am from Alexandria, Virginia. And just as you came into the room, I revisited a conversation with an unknown person, about children. While I cannot recite the exchange, in detail, I can say, with some clarity, that my wishes were rebuffed, and I was heartbroken.”

  “With whom did you share this exchange?” Was it her imagination, or did Blade express more than a passing interest in her otherwise unremarkable recollection? “Was it, perhaps, a husband?”

  “A husband?” At the utterance, she thrust back in time, to another place, and another man. The boyish countenance, dark brown hair, and round cheeks merged for form a familiar face—and then the vision was gone. “I do not believe so.” She lied. “It could have been my mother or a sister.”

  “And they reside in Virginia?” He frowned. “You are positive?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “The view from my home bears a striking resemblance to that of Fair Winds, and it must have triggered something when I looked out the window.” Given his silence, she reached for his hand. “Do you know Alexandria?”

  “No.” He shook his head and did not elaborate.

  “Does your business ever take you to Virginia?” she asked hopefully.

  “My business?” He opened and closed his mouth. “What do you know of my occupation?”

  “Maddie said you met Jean Marc a long time ago, and that you were both in trade.” Although her head still ached, she had no trouble comprehending what Madalene explained. “Is she mistaken? Is that not true?”

  “No, she is not mistaken.” Blade raked his fingers through his hair. “And I have
never ventured to Virginia, because most of my work has kept me in the Caribbean, although I have sailed the Atlantic but not that far north.”

  “I see.” She tamped her disappointment, because she hoped to maintain an acquaintance. “But I am told you are to work for Maddie and Jean Marc, and their mercantile is in Boston, so you may dock in Alexandria, some day.”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” He scowled. “Are you making a study of me?”

  “I apologize, as my intent was only to know you.” She gulped beneath the weight of his sudden ire. “And I have not properly thanked you for saving my life. I owe you a debt I can never repay, but I would try, if you permit me.”

  “Heal and regain your memories, and that is thanks enough.” As he made to withdraw, she maintained a firm grip on his hand. “And what is there to know about me?”

  “Where were you born?” She seized the opening. “Where do you live? What of your kin? Have you a wife?”

  “Something tells me your last query is of most concern, so I will answer it first.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “No, I have no wife, and my parents have long since passed. I was born in Kingston, and I make my home aboard the Thunder Child, wherever she takes me. Anything else, Miss Charitye?”

  “I suppose not.” She should have known a man of the sea would not tarry in one place. “So you are alone in the world. Do you never want to have something more, like Jean Marc?”

  “What do you have in mind, Miss Charitye?” In the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed, and she knew not what to make of him. And then he reversed course. “My dear, while I am flattered, you should confine your energy to your recovery, and leave seduction to the professionals.”

  “How dare you.” She released him, as her throat tightened, and she vowed she would not cry. “I only wanted to find a way to do something nice for you, Mr. Reyson. Not that I profess to know what you need, but I wanted to be of service, as you have helped me. I see now that is not possible, and I am truly sorry if I offended you, but my motive was honorable. However, I will trouble you no more. If you wish, I can return to town and find my own way home.”

  “Stop.” In that moment, he reached for her, and she tried but failed resist him. As he enfolded her in his arms, it dawned on her that naught but a thin layer of fine silk separated her naked body from him. “Please, forgive me, Charitye. I have no more brain than a sea turtle, and you are going nowhere until you are well.”

  “Why did you say such hurtful things to me?” As he massaged her back, the tension investing her spine seemed to vanish. “Do you dislike me?”

  “On the contrary, I like you very much.” To her shock and amazement, he pressed his lips to the crest of her ear, and she shivered, as gooseflesh covered her from top to toe. “I am going to ride into town, with Jean Marc, and see what can learn of your history. When the time is right, and you are fully recovered, I will sail you to Virginia.”

  Then he shuffled her in his arms and kissed her.

  Chapter Three

  The sun broke through the clouds, as Blade and Jean Marc rode into Port Royal and steered toward the inn. In the saddle, he shifted and sighed, as he had been painfully aroused since he claimed one kiss—a single kiss, from Charitye, and he could not stop thinking about her.

  “What is wrong with you?” Jean Marc asked, as he narrowed his stare. “You blush, and you keep making weird little noises.”

  “It is nothing.” Blade came alert and ignored his friend’s gloating expression. No doubt, Jean Marc knew the source of Blade’s unrest. “I am hungry, and my belly grumbles.”

  “Then we should eat at the inn, because the return trip will take just as long.” As they turned onto the main thoroughfare, Jean Marc urged his stallion into a gallop, despite the muddy roads. “But I will not linger anymore than necessary, because Maddie may go into labor at any moment, and I would anchor at her side, as I have for the birth of our daughters.”

  “Is birthing babes not women’s work?” A vision formed of a heavily pregnant Charitye, and Blade blinked and shook his head. Why could he not get her out of his mind? She was no different than any other bit o’ fluff. Of course, that was not true. “And how are we to convey Charitye’s possessions to Fair Winds, when we have no rig?”

  “I am expecting a load of supplies to be delivered to the house, today.” Jean Marc shrugged. “If we find her things, I will have the men pick up her belongings. If we brought a wagon, it would have slowed us down, and I promised my wife I would return in time for dinner, and I never break my promises to Maddie.”

  “All right.” Nervous for some unknown reason, Blade drew rein at the inn and slid from the saddle. After tying up his horse, he dusted his hands on his breeches. “Then let us have done with it, because I am anxious to get back to Charitye.”

  “Oh?” What began as a snort soon erupted into full-blown hilarity, and Jean Marc wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Let me guess. You tried your hand at courtship and failed miserably.”

  “Worse.” Blade huffed a breath but took no offense, because he relied on Jean Marc’s advice on women. Whores he could manage, but respectable ladies presented an altogether different hazard. “I insulted her.”

  “I knew it, and I told Mon Chou as much.” Again, Jean Marc burst into laughter. “Now are you ready to sign the pact and begin your year of atonement? I wager you are equally impatient to make the pretty Charitye your bride and beget some babes on her.”

  “My friend, you have the head of a chicken, the heart of a yellow dog, and the bowels of a worm.” Blade snickered. “And those are you good qualities.”

  “Ah, but I have Maddie, so what do I care?” Jean Marc elbowed Blade. “And you are hardly one to talk, given you are as bone-headed as a backwards blowfish.”

  At the entrance, Blade held open the door and swept his arm in an exaggerated flourish. “Age before beauty.”

  “Rather, intelligence before ignorance.” Smug, Jean Marc crossed the threshold. At the counter, he rapped his knuckles on the polished wood surface. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “I will be right with you.” Seconds later, the stuffy innkeeper appeared, but he smiled as he extended a hand to Jean Marc, which he accepted. “Mr. Cavalier, this is an unexpected pleasure. Are you here for another portion of our famous gizzada? Antoine tells me Mrs. Cavalier craves it, and how is she?”

  “Ready to burst at any minute, Mr. Hinson.” From his coat pocket, Jean Marc retrieved the receipt Blade found in Charitye’s purse. “But I am here at my wife’s bidding on an altogether different charge, and I am hoping you can help me. Did you rent a room to a young lady named Charitye?”

  “You mean Mrs. Vanderley?” Blade’s blood ran cold at the innkeeper’s reference. So she was married. “I did, indeed. Why do you ask?”

  “Vanderley, as in Vanderley Mills?” Oblivious to Blade’s torment, Jean Marc rested an elbow to the counter. “She is related to the family?”

  “Indeed, she is Reuben Vanderley’s widow, although I didn’t know he had a wife, until she showed up at my doorstep.” In that instant, Blade exhaled. Mr. Hinson produced a ledger, and he flipped through the pages. “Here it is. She took the Harvest Suite a sennight ago. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I have some unfortunate news.” Jean Marc cast a side-glance at Blade. “Mrs. Vanderley has taken ill, and she is convalescing at Fair Winds. I am here to collect her personal items, and I will dispatch my men to pick them up, but I would like to gather some of her toiletries, with your permission.”

  “Of course, Mr. Cavalier.” From a small box, Hinson drew a key. “If you will follow me, I will show you to the room.” As they climbed the stairs, he peered over his shoulder. “Do you know if Mrs. Vanderley will be retaining the accommodation, because she paid in advance?”

  “She will be staying as a guest in my home, for the foreseeable future, so you may feel free to re-let the chamber.” Jean Marc halted, as the innkeeper paused before a door. “Perhaps you can have one of
your servants pack Mrs. Vanderley’s belongings.”

  “I shall do so, posthaste, sir.” Mr. Hinson stepped aside. “After you, gentlemen.”

  Had Blade attempted to gain access to Charitye’s quarters, he doubted he would have got past the front hall. But freshly shaved, and wearing a coat he borrowed from Jean Marc, Blade appeared almost as respectable as his friend.

  Surrounded by Charitye’s personal things, he rolled his shoulders and toyed with a silver-backed brush, as he pondered the revelations of her marriage and subsequent widowhood. Then he grabbed a small bottle from the vanity, removed the crystal stopper, and inhaled the subtle aroma of lavender. After securing the fancy perfume, he dropped it in his coat pocket.

  “Did anyone travel with Mrs. Vanderley?” he inquired of the innkeeper. “Did anyone call on her, while she stayed here? Does she have friends or acquaintances, locally?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” Mr. Hinson snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, someone left a message for her, yesterday.”

  “A man?” Blade wrapped the brush and matching mirror in a shawl.

  “A woman.” The innkeeper wrinkled his nose. “And she was a lady of questionable character, if you take my meaning.”

  “Had you seen her before?” Jean Marc opened a large trunk and sifted through the contents. “Was she familiar?”

  “I should say not.” Hinson blanched, and Blade bit his tongue against laughter. “I do not frequent such establishments of ill repute, Mr. Cavalier.”

  “What did she look like?” Blade traced the delicate leatherwork of Charitye’s trunk. Had he captured her at sea, the elaborate, hand-tooled craftsmanship would have piqued his interest. “Can you describe her?”

  “Well, she was about this tall.” The innkeeper held up his hand. “And she had unkempt hair and a dirty gown that left little to the imagination.”

  “That fits about ninety percent of all three-penny uprights in Port Royal.” When Blade opened the armoire, he reached for a frilly silk gown but something stayed him. “Jean Marc, someone has been here.”