Passion's Tide Page 12

  “Room. Singular.” Something flashed in her green eyes, and he was uncertain if it was anger or surprise, or, he secretly hoped (and berated himself for), lust.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to sleep with you, simply because of what happened earlier.”

  The little bit of hope in him died, and he instead sent her a demeaning smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. They only had one available room, the one I requested hours ago when I came ashore. And since you were supposed to be safe on the ship right now,” she flushed, “you understand why I didn’t request two rooms.”

  “None of this would have been a problem if you hadn’t captured my ship in the first place,” she grumbled as she brushed by him.

  He caught her hand as she passed. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” she answered in a deceptively sweet tone. He was not fooled.

  They followed the innkeeper up the stairs and down a narrow hallway to a door marked 14A. Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he flipped through it until he had selected the correct one, and then used it to unlock the door. He ushered Logan and Amber inside, who were quickly followed by a girl carrying towels whom he introduced as his daughter, Annie. A scowling young woman with mousy brown hair, Annie went about the room placing towels and filling up the washbasin with water from a tarnished pitcher that stood on the dresser. The innkeeper removed the key from the ring and handed it to Logan, assured him that if he needed anything else he could ask Annie, and excused himself.

  Amber studied the room. It was of medium size, and furnished with simple, yet sturdy, furniture. In the center of the room stood a large bed, covered with clean blankets and sheets. Glowering, the innkeeper’s daughter pulled an extra blanket from the trunk at the foot of the bed, then threw it over the wooden footboard and turned to leave. Logan’s voice stopped her.

  “Annie, if you would please, there is a large sack behind the bar downstairs. I’d like you to send that up, along with some clean clothes for my wife, and a hot bath. And if you could bring her some dinner when she is done, I would appreciate it.”

  Logan’s kindness was wasted on the girl. She glared at him, and planted a hand on her hip. “I’m sorry sir,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “we don’t do no catering to men and their wives. I think you got us all mixed up with a fancy hotel. If you’ll excuse me…” she spun on her heel.

  “Wait.”

  Pivoting back around she sent him a sour look. “What now?”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  Her eyebrows rose a quarter of an inch. “How much?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Won’t do it for no less than thirty-five.”

  “Drop the attitude and I’ll make it fifty.”

  “Deal.” She snatched the coins from him and bit into one before tucking them into her apron pocket, then sent them a crude excuse for a curtsy. “I’ll be right back up with your things, sir. Ma’am,” she added, turning to Amber, who held back her laugh until the girl had left the room.

  Logan’s mouth twitched at the corners. “What’s so funny?”

  “You really do have a way with women, don’t you?” He grinned and tossed his hat onto the bed, then ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Too bad you can’t pay me to drop my attitude. Though, even if you could, I doubt you’d have enough money to keep me quiet for two whole months,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him take off his baldric.

  “I promise you I have the money, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to change,” he responded as he laid the belt on the empty space next to her.

  “Why’s that?”

  He turned to her and planted a light kiss on her lips. “Because I happen to like your attitude problem. It’s endearing.” She stared at him. More impressive than his coercive ways with the female sex, she had to admit to herself, was his uncanny ability to render her speechless.

  She was saved from thinking of a suitable reply as a knock sounded, and Annie came in carrying what appeared to be a large blanket tied with rope. She deposited it on the bed where he directed, and left with a promise to return with the bathwater and clothes.

  As soon as they were alone again, Logan grabbed a knife from his belt and went to work on the ties holding the blanket together. Once severed, he tossed them aside and unrolled the cloth, revealing to Amber a set of dangerous looking knives in varying sizes, four axe-blades that he slid onto the lengths of four wooden handles, and six pistols, as well as a larger, more menacing looking gun that Amber couldn’t name. Along with the arsenal of weapons there was a long leather belt, fitted with loops to hang daggers and pistols.

  “What are you intending to do with all of those?” she asked, finding her voice again.

  “I’m going to go find that bastard Miguel’s ship before he finds mine.” He spread everything out on the bed and began loading the pistols with shot.

  “What if he’s already found it?”

  Logan smiled. “Did you think I would harbor her in the marina? I left just enough men on board to sail her, gave them orders to wait an hour after I had left, and then take her to the other side of the island. I assume that you snuck out moments before she set off.” Amber winced, remembering the anchor chafing her skin.”How did you escape, by the way?”

  “The windows.”

  He stopped what he was doing and stared at her for a moment, then began laughing. “I should have known you’d do something crazy like jump out the window.”

  She picked up one of the knives and examined it with mild interest. “What are you planning on doing if you find his ship?”

  “When I find his ship,” he corrected her, “and I should think the answer to your question would be fairly obvious.” Looking at the artillery before her, she would have to agree. They heard a light tapping at the door, and Logan jumped up to open it. There was a quick conversation that she ignored, choosing instead to inspect one of the pistols. Curling her fingers around the butt of the gun, she lifted it so that it was level with her gaze and ran her hand over it lightly, tracing a finger through the elegant carving in the polished ivory. She switched it so it was in her right hand, cocked it as she had seen him do, and extended it, getting a feel for it and trying to imagine if she could actually fire it successfully.

  “Careful,” Logan’s voice broke her concentration. “She’s got a light trigger, and I wouldn’t want you to blow a hole in my head by accident. Now here, help me with this,” he said, gesturing towards the belt. He instructed her how to wrap it around him so that it crossed against his abdomen, creating a large “X” on his chest, then enlisted her help in loading it. The larger gun, which he explained was called a blunderbuss, was tucked in a loop so that it lay flush against his back, easily accessible for him to reach behind him and pull it out.

  As if this weren’t enough, he tied his regular baldric around his waist after checking the pistols and cleaning the cutlass. Amber turned her head as he drew the long blade from the sheath, the sight of blood splattered on the shining silver too much for her to stomach. It took him only a minute to wipe it clean with a wet towel from the dresser, and then the belt was on. At last, he tucked the last remaining dagger into his tall boot and pulled on a dark blue jacket that effectively hid the ridiculous number of weapons he wore strapped to his body. The four axes were wrapped back into the blanket.

  There was another knock, and Logan opened the door to let in two men carrying a large tub. They set it in the corner just as Annie entered, a large bucket of steaming water in her hands. She emptied it into the tub, then returned into the hall for another bucket, the men following behind her.

  Logan tied his hair back and tugged his hat back onto his head. Amber was humiliated that she couldn’t shake the nagging sense of worry that overtook her. “Will you be back?”

  If he noticed the slight tremor in her voice, he didn’t say anything. He smiled. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.” A man appeared in the doorway, and Logan’s smile
slid from his face. He turned to her again with a serious expression. “And Amber, in case you were thinking about another escape attempt, know that I don’t make the same mistake twice. David here is going to sit outside your door until I get back, and Creed is stationed underneath your window.” Annie looked up with curiosity as she emptied the last bucket of water into the tub, but stayed silent.

  Amber’s anger again flared. She stood and thrust the bundle into his arms without a word and turned her attention towards the bath. Logan watched for a minute, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Amber sat at the edge of the tub, lost in thought until Annie spoke, making her jump. “He’s a handsome one, he is. Are you really married to him?”

  “Yes,” Amber replied without thinking.

  The lanky girl’s face fell. “Damn, I was hoping that he was lying earlier when he said you was his wife. No offense. I just wouldn’t mind liftin’ up my skirts for the likes of him,” she said, offering Amber a towel.

  Taking it from her, Amber waited until she had turned around to strip off her chemise and petticoats, and lower herself into the warm water. “How old are you, Annie?” she asked, as she reached for the soap and began scrubbing her scalp with vigor.

  “I’ll be eighteen next July,” the girl replied with a hint of pride in her voice.

  “You’re only seventeen, and already you’re…”

  Annie shrugged as she walked across the room where she had left a pile of folded clothes. “Nothing wrong with a roll in the hay, from time to time.” She set the clothes on the stool next to the tub, where Amber had begun rinsing her hair. “Want me to do that, miss?”

  “No thank you,” Amber replied awkwardly, and Annie plopped down on the bed.

  “Suit yourself. If you’re just about done, I’ll go ahead and leave these clothes here. I woulda given you one of my dresses, but on account of you’ve got more curves than me, I didn’t think they’d fit. So I found you some breeches that a man left here last week after his wife barged in on him in bed with some wench. She darn near dragged him out of here half-naked, hollerin’ all the way. I don’t know what all the fuss was about; from what I saw of him he weren’t nothing too impressive, if you know what I mean.”

  Amber blushed, and nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean. I’m finished here now.”

  Annie jumped to her feet. “I’ll go get you that food now, Miss.”

  She returned five minutes later with a tray of stale bread, a bowl of stew, and a piece of shepherd’s pie. Amber turned from the mirror where she had been trying to brush out her curls, her mouth watering at the aroma that wafted towards her. “I knew those pants would fit you,” Annie exclaimed triumphantly as she set down the tray. Amber looked down at the breeches that hugged her hips and thighs, accentuating every one of her curves. If it were up to her, she would have chosen a larger pair. But the simple white shirt she wore hung loosely on her torso like a potato sack, and it covered her so that she didn’t feel quite so exposed.

  She sat down and reached for the glass decanter, lifted it to her nose and inhaled. “Is this rum?” Annie nodded. “Do you have anything else?”

  She shook her head. “All we’ve got is rum and whisky.”

  “No water? Milk?”

  “Why would you waste your time on milk or water? This here is the best rum on the whole island. Trust me.” Amber didn’t doubt for one minute that the girl had sampled all the liqueur on the island and was capable of making an educated decision regarding quality. So she thanked her, and dismissed her. Annie gave her another curtsy. “I think I’d make a damn near perfect lady’s maid, don’t you?” Amber nearly choked on her bread, but reassured her that her skills were unparalleled and would be hard to match. The other girl beamed and left her to finish the meal.

  Amber was thirsty, but hesitant to drink the rum. Eyeing it with caution, she finally poured herself a glass. Her first tentative sip sent her into a fit of coughing as the dark liquid burned a path down the back of her throat. As she finished her first glass, however, she seemed to have acquired a taste for the drink, and for the way it made her thoughts fuzzy.

  And so she finished the decanter.

  Chapter Eleven

  “New friend?” Logan’s voice came from the now open doorway, drawing Amber’s gaze up from the orange-striped tabby who lay stretched across the bed, purring languidly as she stroked him. The cat took little note of Logan, casting his brilliant yellow eyes in his direction before returning his attention to Amber.

  She continued petting the cat as Logan dismissed David from his post and closed the door. They were alone in the room now.

  Amber cradled the cat against her breast and pulled herself off the bed. “He was wandering the streets and thought Creed’s leg would be a good place to sharpen his claws. Luckily Creed took pity on the poor creature, and, since misery loves company, passed him off to me.”

  “Neither of you seem all that miserable at the moment.”

  “True,” she remarked, nuzzling her nose against her furry companion’s head. “I had my dinner and a bath, and Tybalt had a saucer of milk.” The cat purred in response as Logan smirked.

  “Tybalt?”

  “It’s from Romeo and Juliet, he was the Prince of Cats.”

  “I know what it’s from, sweetheart. I just find it…amusing.” He paused to throw his hat onto a chair, and then attempted to hold back a grimace as he began to pull off his jacket. But Amber noticed his discomfort at once and rushed to his side, Tybalt carelessly dropped to the floor. He sauntered over to the corner of the room where he curled up and fell asleep, tail twitching.

  Logan held up a hand to stop Amber before she could get too close. “I’m fine, really.” To prove it, he slid an arm through the sleeve, swearing under his breath as it got stuck.

  “Obviously you’re not,” she told him, and she pushed him backwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Why are you always getting injured?”

  He grinned. “It’s not exactly a safe job.”

  She freed his arm from the sleeve, and noticed the large splinter of wood sticking out from his shoulder. “What the hell happened to you tonight?” she demanded as she began working on his other sleeve.

  “We followed Miguel to a brothel, and after speaking to a woman who knew where they had anchored for the night, we rowed out to his ship.” He winced as she removed the jacket and stared at the other shards of wood embedded in his skin. She shook her head and started stripping him of his weapons. “We took them by surprise when we boarded her, and easily won the battle. Then we lay a fuse to blow the stores of powder once we were a safe distance from the ship.”

  “Like you did to the other ship.”

  “Yes, except—ow!”

  “Sorry. Please continue.”

  “Except something went wrong this time. We laid the fuse, got in our boat, and we were rowing away when she exploded. One of Miguel’s men must have lit it. These,” he said, nodding his head at the splinters, “are a result of that.”

  “Did your men get hit too?”

  “Bits and pieces, here and there, but since I pushed them into the water before the fire reached the second reserve of powder, I took the brunt of it. What are you doing?”

  “Cutting off your shirt. How else do you expect me to take care of you?” She slid the knife through the fabric with care, trying not to pull at the slivers. Finally his upper body was bare.

  Logan grew apprehensive. “You aren’t going to pour rum into my cuts again, are you?” He was surprised to hear her laugh, and even more surprised to find how much it warmed him.

  “I wasn’t planning on it, no. But even if I was, I’m afraid there isn’t any left.”

  He stared into her face as she nursed his shoulder, noticing for the first time her flushed cheeks and easy smile. “Good god Amber, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

  “What a preposterous presumption,” she giggled. “Now sit still while I pull this out,” Gritting his te
eth, he complied until every last splinter had been removed. She leaned back to admire her handiwork, then stood and walked over to the washbasin.

  “Amber?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me the truth. Are you, or are you not intoxicated?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I’d say it’s pretty damn important, seeing as how you were just extracting the hull of a ship from my body.”

  “Oh, stop exaggerating, it was just a few splinters. Now don’t move.” His head shot up as he felt warm water trickle down his chest.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Cleaning your cuts,” she replied, concentrating on the task. Logan watched her as she ran the cloth over his shoulders, his broad chest, his firm stomach.

  He closed his eyes and relaxed under her careful ministrations, her touch both soothing and intensely arousing. The tension in his muscles dissipated as she washed away the dirt, sweat, and blood that covered his skin. He didn’t notice as her hand slowed, or even when it stopped. When it dropped to her side, however, he inexplicably mourned the loss of her touch.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he had intended.

  “Oh, nothing. I’m just…curious,” she mused.

  “Curious about what?”

  She leaned forward and caught him off guard by brushing her mouth against his. Then just as quickly she pulled away. Logan stared at her in shock.

  “Nothing…” she murmured to herself, her brows drawn together in deliberation.

  “What the hell do you mean, nothing?”

  She looked up, startled. “I mean that I felt nothing like I did when you kissed me outside.”