Page 44 of The Pirate Lord
As they watched, however, the ship started to veer to the right. It was still making for the island, but now it seemed to be making for the furthest end of it.
“Maybe this ain’t the island after all,” one of the women standing behind Sara remarked. “Maybe we just got to get around it.”
“I don’t think so,” Sara mused aloud. “If they’d wanted to avoid it, they could have passed it from a greater distance.”
The women surged forward against the railing as each sought to get a better look at the huge expanse of dead grass and half-submerged boulders that was now so close they could make out the white seagulls flitting in and out of the jumble of rock.
The ship turned fully to the right and was sailing parallel to the island. It took several minutes to round the rocky outcropping on the end, for Atlantis was wider than they’d expected. But as the ship passed the point, putting them in view of a new side of the island, the women collectively gasped.
This side was as green and lush as the other had been brown and dry. Feathery coconut palms lined the sandy curve of shore, and beyond them a veritable jungle of exotic trees, twisting vines, and matted undergrowth stretched up toward the top of the island, a peak that appeared to be several miles inland.
Thatched huts of various designs were nestled into the forest banking the beach, and at one end of the natural lagoon a dock that looked substantial enough to accommodate theSatyrstretched out into the water, as if waiting to claim them. Another vessel was moored to it on the side away from them, a sloop about half the size of theSatyr, but obviously seaworthy and probably still capable of carrying a large cargo.
As the ship slowed, Sara glimpsed a silvery sliver of a stream bisecting the shore. Beside it lay a couple of rough wooden carts, obviously used for hauling containers of water. There was even a rude track along the beach where the carts had obviously been dragged.
Paradise. She had to admit it. Clear blue waters filled with tropical fish, colorful fruits dripping from the trees, and a light, warm climate. Heaven itself.
The sound of wood scraping against wood jolted her from her thoughts, signaling that they’d reached the dock. As men scurried to weigh anchor and secure the ship against the newly cut posts, the women began to point out sights and to chatter excitedly about their home.
“So what do you think, ladies?” came a voice behind them. “Does it meet your expectations?”
As a chorus of women exclaimed over the island, Sara tightened her lips. Gideon. Apparently, with the ship docked he now had time to come boast about his precious island. Bother it all. She had half a mind to tell him exactly what he could do with his paradise.
From his standpoint behind Sara, Gideon surveyed her stiff back and rigid stance, wondering what she was so angry about now. He’d expected her to be pleasantly surprised by the delights of Atlantis Island, not furious.
Why in the blazes do I even care?he thought sourly when she refused to look at him or say anything.She made her bed with that blasted Hargraves. Let her lie in it.
The trouble was, he couldn’t stand to let Hargraves have her. God knows she was a troublesome wench with a tongue that could strip the barnacles off a ship’s hull. But he couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to hold her and kiss her, how, for just a few moments, she’d been an eager, melting softness in his arms. Confound her, thoughts like that had kept him up half the night, making him call for Queenie and just as quickly turn her over to Barnaby when he realized she wasn’t what he wanted.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, Queenie sidled up to him and slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. “Good mornin’, guv’nor. Hope you’re feelin’ as good this mornin’ as I am.”
He stared at Queenie incredulously. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been railing at him for not bedding her. It had taken both him and Barnaby to convince her to vacate his cabin after he’d made the disastrous mistake of calling for her. What was her game now? He knew she’d spent the night with Barnaby, and judging from the first mate’s smile and her pleasant expression, it had been a good one. What did she want with him?
Then Queenie slanted a glance at Sara’s unyielding back, and Gideon instantly understood. Obviously, Sara had heard about his calling for Queenie. And Queenie must’ve let Sara believe that she’d spent the night with him.
So that was why Sara refused to speak to him. She was angry about Queenie. The thought gave him immense satisfaction. Despite all Sara’s protests that she didn’t want him, she was jealous over some tart she thought he’d made love to.
Then a sobering thought hit him. She might merely be pretending to a moral disgust over his supposed lechery. It would be just like Sara to look down her nose at him for seeking relief for the very fires she’d roused in him and refused to quench herself.
As Queenie plastered herself to his right side, he glared at Sara’s back. The little witch. She had no right to be angry. He’d done nothing to be ashamed of, and even if he had, it was all her fault for making him ache for her.
He started to thrust Queenie away, then stopped himself. If Sara was jealous, let her have a taste of what he’d suffered yesterday when he’d seen her fussing over Hargraves like a frigging mother hen. Maybe then she’d admit she didn’t want that ugly sailor. And if it wasn’t jealousy that had roused her temper, at least he’d have the pleasure of rubbing her nose in his “lechery.”
The other women had disappeared, helped off the ship by his men so they could explore the island. Only Sara remained at the rail. He grinned. Draping his arm casually about Queenie’s shoulders, he said smoothly, “Good morning, Miss Willis. And what doyouthink of our island?”
She faced him, paling when she saw him with Queenie. But she quickly recovered herself. “It’s lovely.” Her voice lowered in acid condescension. “It’s the perfect place for you and your lecherous companions to sport with your unwilling concubines.”
A slow smile touched his lips. “You mean, ‘sport with our prospectivewives,’ don’t you? And I assure you, not all of them are unwilling.” He cast a lecherous glance down at Queenie’s ample bosom. “Some of them are more than happy to be here.”
The look on Sara’s face was priceless. He would wager his ship she was jealous, though she’d never admit it, even to herself.
Then she tilted up that stubborn chin of hers and said in a lofty voice, “Some have no self-respect. I’m not talking about them. They have their consciences to deal with.”
Queenie bristled. “Why, you haughty little bi?—”
“That’s enough, Queenie.” He dropped his arm from around her shoulder. “Why don’t you join the other women? I have some things to say to Miss Willis.”
For a second, he thought Queenie would refuse, but apparently she decided it wasn’t a battle worth fighting, because she shrugged and released her hold on his waist. “If you say so, guv’nor. I’d like to see if the beds are as comfy on land as they are on sea.” And with a last, come-hither look in his direction, she strolled off down the deck, her hips swaying provocatively.
