Chapter 6 PiratePreacher?
Caleb drew a deep breath, studying the lady’s eyes, the brightest blue he’d ever seen, as they shifted over him, across the cabin, then back to him again.
You could tell a lot from someone’s eyes if you looked deep enough and long enough.
And within this woman’s he saw naught but fear, confusion, and oddly, strength.
No malicious intent or nefarious purpose.
And especially no evil, as Ayida had proclaimed.
But then again, Caleb had been bewitched by a woman before, having not seen the trickery in her eyes. And his foolishness had cost many dearly, including his sister Esther.
“Surely you have a name?” He attempted again, narrowing his eyes. “Or are you a mermaid after all and have no ability to speak?”
She swallowed, her voice emerged not more than a whisper. “I am no mermaid.”
“Ah. A fair start.” And a sweet feminine voice to match her pleasant face.
Her quiet, arresting beauty unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Damp strands of golden hair fell in waves to her shoulders, framing a face both delicate and dignified.
A fine, regal nose, cheeks kissed by the sun, and eyes the hue of shallow Caribbean waters—beautiful, dangerous, and far too easy to drown in.
But it wasn’t their color that held him.
It was the feeling that he’d seen them before…
somewhere beyond memory. Somewhere that still echoed in his dreams. Perhaps not a mermaid, but a siren nonetheless, come to draw him toward a fate already written, a death already determined.
Such dismal tidings were more than warranted after all the strange misfortunes that had overtaken the Sentinel of late.
Pushing from his desk, he moved toward her…slowly, awaiting her name, yet wanting to get closer for a better look.
At his advance, she took a step back, both determination and fear in those lustrous eyes. “Desi Starr.”
He halted. “Desi. An odd name that, Miss Starr.”
“Desiree.” She hugged herself. “Desi for short.”
A fitting name, for the closer he came, the more he struggled with his desire. “And to the second question?”
She drew a deep breath. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Caleb found the words as confusing as the woman herself. Not to mention her strange accent, one he could not place. “My guess has naught to do with the truth, Miss. Which you will tell me posthaste. When did you sneak aboard? Was it at St. Johns?”
The lady shook her head. “I did not…” She gripped his coat tighter and glanced out the stern windows. “I don’t know how I came to be here. I was diving…I found a shipwreck...” Her voice cracked as if she were about to cry, yet she raised her chin and no tears came.
“Diving? You were swimming in the sea?”
“Deep underwater. Searching for treasure.”
Ludicrous. He snorted. “You should know, Miss Starr, that lies aboard my ship are punished severely.”
“I’m telling the truth.” She met his gaze head on. “I was diving. I found… and then I appeared on your ship. Just like the first time. Remember?”
He did, indeed. ’Twas a moment hard to forget.
The tightness in her expression softened. “Why did you say, ‘you found me’?”
Now ’twas his turn not to answer. Spinning, he retreated to his desk, his jaw stiffening. How could he tell this strange woman that he’d oft seen her in his dreams? “I mistook you for someone else, someone I must have met before.”
The deck slanted, and he balanced his boots over the planks, his gaze landing on the Bible atop his desk. Lord, grant me Your wisdom. Does the lady bring good or evil, and what is to be done with her? He lifted up the prayer, though he expected no answer. Heaven had been silent for too long.
“What is the name of this ship?” she asked.
Her question spun him around. “The Sentinel. But then I sense you already know that.” If, indeed, the woman had stowed aboard.
At the name, a wave of unmistakable shock traveled across her face. Her brow folded and her breathing seemed to increase. Perhaps she had no clue what ship she’d boarded, after all. Even so, why would the name invoke such a response?
He grew weary of this mad subterfuge. “Enough!” he shouted a bit louder than he intended.
The lady flinched.
“Tell me how you came to be aboard my ship and for what purpose, or I will have no choice but to lock you in the hold.”
?
From the look in the captain’s stormy gray-blue eyes, Desi knew his threat was real. As real as the shifting deck beneath her feet and the whisk of wind against the stern windows. As real as the creak and groan of timbers and scent of spice and wood and salt permeating the cabin.
The Sentinel! The ship Pops had told her about, the one that sank in the Bermuda Triangle with a timeless treasure aboard that would “change her life”. Or so he’d said. The one she’d promised him she’d find.
But how could that be? Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to think, to reason, to make sense of what was happening.
No time for that, however, as the captain’s boots thundered across the deck. She flung her eyes open and answered him in haste. “I don’t know. I swear. I have no idea how I came here. If I did, I would tell you.”
He halted. The rage in his eyes abated, assessing her, seeking any hint of untruth. “What is this black skin you wear?”
She almost laughed. But then again, if she was in the past… “It’s called a wetsuit. We wear it for diving as insulation and protection.”
“What is this insulation?” He scratched the stubble on his jaw.
“You really don’t know?”
His eyes never left hers, impatience growing within them.
“It keeps the body warm in cold water.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, if only to ease her nerves. “What year is this?”
Growling, he raked back his hair. “Madness! The year of our Lord seventeen hundred and eighteen, as well you know.”
All strength fled her, turning her legs into pudding and her mind into mush. She felt herself start to fall.
Strong arms caught her, held her steady, shifting her weight onto his. His scent of salted leather, bay rum, and something smoky she couldn’t place surrounded her, evoking a sense of protection, a memory of safety and love she’d only felt in her dreams. A jolt shimmied down her body.
He must have felt it too. Confusion lined his brow. He jerked from her as if she were too hot to touch, then backed away, his boots thudding over the wooden deck, his absence leaving an eerie chill that scraped over her.
The cat awoke, stretched out its paws, and gazed at Desi curiously with one eye. A black hole appeared where the other should be. Moving off the bed, it leapt onto the captain’s desk, and he stroked its fur affectionately. A man who loved cats couldn’t be all that bad, could he?
She lifted her chin. “You know my name now. What is yours?”
He gripped the hilt of his sword, saying nothing at first. The man’s presence was overpowering.
Like nothing she’d felt before—commanding, intense, passionate.
Thickly muscled and standing well over six feet, he was the epitome of women’s dreams, a hero from days of old.
And if she weren’t so frightened, he might take her breath away.
But looks could be deceiving. And she was no fragile damsel in distress.
“Captain Caleb Hyde,” he finally answered.
“Are you a pirate?”
Huffing, he grinned. “Nay. Though I hail from a family of pirates. Perhaps you’ve heard of my father, Alexander Merrick, Viscount Hyde, and my grandfather Captain Merrick Hyde, Earl of Clarendon?”
From his tone, it was obvious the man was proud of his noble heritage, but in all her historical research, she’d never read about a pirate earl. “No, I’m sorry.”
Frowning, he swung about, circled his desk, and strode back to the windows.
The cat followed, plopping into a patch of warm sunlight.
Desi glanced behind her. She could easily open the door and escape.
But where to? Instead, she glanced about the room, ever as masculine, orderly, and commanding as its owner.
Aside from the large oak desk, shelves bolted to the wall contained various navigational tools, artifacts, and books.
A wooden sea chest with iron fittings sat at the foot of the cot, while a handwoven mat covered the deck before it.
And oddly, carved into the bulkhead above the sea chest were the words With God, All Things Are Possible.
Two unlit oil lamps were mounted on the walls, while one hung overhead, swaying with the ship.
Candles in brass holders littered the room on both desk and shelves, along with various carafes and glasses and even what appeared to be a silver tea set.
To her right, a weapons rack held three flintlocks, another cutlass, and a musket.
One velvet stuffed chair was bolted to the deck beside where she stood.
Her gaze returned to the only thing that seemed out of place—an open leather-bound book perched atop a slew of charts on his desk.
A Bible? She took a few steps forward for a better look.
A wavering ray of sunlight shifted over the word Psalms at the top, the sight giving her hope this man-pirate was not as cruel as history dictated.
“A nobleman pirate who wears a cross and reads the Bible?”
He faced her. A slow smile spread over his lips. “Reformed pirate. In truth, my family helps round up pirates while we spread the Gospel and help the poor.” He gripped the silver cross at his neck.
If he had said he was part dolphin, she wouldn’t have been more shocked.
All the pirates and privateers she’d read about in history were ruthless, violent, greedy, sea-hardened men.
And though some were religious, none were philanthropists, and especially not evangelists.
Could such a thing be true? Or was this all a part of a crazy dream she was having, and she was actually curled up in her bed above Ocean’s Echo?
If so, she must figure out a way to wake up.
And soon.
Before this man labeled her as completely nuts, if the look on his face was any indication, and he and his crew tortured and burned her like they did to those poor girls in Salem, Massachusetts back in…if she remembered, only a few years before 1718.
She swallowed down a burst of terror.
The black cat leapt from the window ledge onto the captain’s desk again, sidling up to him with a rumbling purr. Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Cats amuse you, Miss Starr?”
“I never expected to see one in this bizarre dream I’m having.”
“You believe this to be all a dream?” He cocked a brow as he picked up the cat and flung her over his shoulder. “I assure you, Miss. I am quite real. And so is Patches.”
“Patches?”
“She lost an eye when a shot splintered our mast,” he offered.
“We tried to get her to wear a patch, but she would have none of it.” The handsome man who looked more pirate than preacher, wearing both cross and cutlass, stood there stroking the cat’s fur on a tall ship in the year 1718 in the most outlandish scene she’d ever witnessed.
Maybe she was going crazy.
He set the cat down again and studied her. And for the first time, the hard sheen fled his eyes, replaced by a hint of kindness, prompting her to attempt an explanation.
“Listen, Captain, this is the deal. Either I’m having some crazy dream or somehow…somehow… I’ve been transported back in time.”
The hard sheen reappeared, along with anger and distrust. He crossed muscular arms over his chest. “Do not presume to take me for a fool!”
“I would nev—”
“I find the only plausible explanation is that you snuck aboard my ship at port. Hence, if you will not own up to your actions, I fear I will have to lock you up until I can turn you over to the authorities.”
And he would do it too. Here was a man of power, used to ordering his crew around and demanding prompt obedience. How could she get him to believe her?
The Ring! It was the only link between past and present. Wait. The last time she’d appeared on this ship, hadn’t she returned to her time when she dropped it? What a dimwit! Why had she not thought of that before?
Sliding her hand into the pocket of her wetsuit, she fished it out and instantly tossed it onto the deck. The clank of gold on wood rang through the cabin. She slammed her eyes shut. Soon, she’d feel the warm wash of water over her wetsuit, hear nothing but the gurgling muted peace of the sea.
Instead, the captain shouted, “Thunder and Flame! You thieving imp!” Withdrawing a knife that made her clutch her throat, he marched to the stern windows, stooped, and pried open a plank of wood that made up the seat.
He reached inside but came up empty. Slowly rising, he faced her, his expression twisting with a fury that no doubt sent his crew scurrying.
“How did you know where it was? Tell me now, or I’ll have your hand chopped off as per the penalty for thieving on this ship! ”