Tempest’s Embrace

Port Royal, Jamaica:

"Seriously, Millicent! Did he look that scary?" bright eyes filled with intrigue for adventure and the unknown leaned forward anxiously, waiting for her best friend to continue the tale.

"Scary me se, him wear a patch over him eye like so." Millicent covered one eye.

A brief silence passed between the two before they erupted into cackles of laughter.

Straddling a large tree branch, the two young girls sat and spoke of the seedy pirates that frequented the port.

Port Royal was a popular safe haven for pirates and a commodity due to its location of easy access to their prey on the trade routes.

It was a fascination they held, speaking about the privateers turning to debauchery and mutiny.

If her nanny or mother ever caught wind of such talk, she would surely be chastised. A young miss as she, innocent and cloistered, should not know what goes on beyond the walls of her plantation home.

But, if it weren't for her friend Millicent who snuck around those parts, she would never know about such things.

They were as different as night and day. Millicent was native to these parts; she had that rich Caribbean hue of beautiful dark caramel skin, long black tight curly hair, and deep brown eyes, whereas Tempest was the total opposite. She grew up in these parts. Her skin was proof of many days playing in the sun’s rays, giving her a peaches and cream gold tan. She had wild chestnut brown hair and luminous dark aquamarine eyes that resembled the dangerous waters of the Sargasso Sea; therefore, her father named her Tempest.

The noonday caught them happily lounging in one of the tall trees nearing the sugarcane fields her grandfather owned. Hot humid air mixed with salty tropical breeze brushed over them both as they enjoyed their day.

They soon fell into whispers and soft laughs until her name was called.

Sitting upright, they peered through the branches watching her nanny search for her. They giggled as the elderly woman called to her flushed with the midday heat, fanning her face, and holding up her skirts carefully as she walked, stumbling over uneven ground.

As she came closer, she stopped just a few footsteps away from them.

"Tempest!" she shouted again, looking high and low for the girl that held a mischievous grin in the branches above her.

When the woman bellowed again, Tempest answered her from above in the tree.

"I am up here, Nana Josephine," she said.

Smiling at Millicent, she turned to watch the woman spin around, look up, and then gasp.

"Young lady! Get down from there this instant!" Josephine shook her head.

Tempest shook her head playfully and giggled at the older woman stomping and fuming in anger.

"No."

"Tempest, get down this instant, or I will tell your father of your boorish and unladylike behavior." She stomped again, pointing to the ground.

Tempest scowled, crossing her arms before her.

"You betta go." Millicent shook her head with a smile.

Giving up the standoff, Tempest shimmied down the tree with ease until she landed on the pads of her bare feet before Josephine.

"Good Heavens! Look at you, Tempest." Josephine shook her head.

Horrified, she gave Tempest a disapproving onceover. 

"There is not enough time left in this day to get you ready." Her gaze rested on Tempest's rumpled gown, wild hair, and dirty bare feet.

"Time for what, Nana?" Tempest frowned at the woman's perplexed look as she frantically began to pace and fan herself.

"Why, to get you ready, dear girl. We have dinner guests arriving in an hour's time. By the time we return, it will not be enough time to get you ready. It's very important that you are present." Josephine huffed.

She stopped pacing as she heard Tempest giggle.

"You're so silly, Nana. Georgette can take us back." She laughed.

Josephine stiffened and looked at Tempest as she pointed behind her. The nanny turned to look at Georgette and paled. With a scrunched-up nose and disdainful stare, Josephine watched the scraggly beast tied to a tree snort and switch its tail to swat away the flies on its back.

She then turned to Tempest with her nose in the air.

"I will do no such thing. I will not go near that...nag. Look at her. She can barely stand up straight."

Tempest shrugged off the insult of her horse that once belonged to her grandfather.

"Suit yourself. I will ride back alone then."

"You will not. If your father sees you riding that thing back home... bareback!.. he will have my head on a platter. Now, let us walk with haste. We don't have time." She began to step forward.

With a glum look, she waved to Millicent that still sat in her spot and waved back, staring at Tempest and Josephine walking off towards their home.

Shaking her head, Millicent smiled as the older woman fussed with her friend as they continued. “Walk straight, hold your head up, don't sulk so...”

********

In no time, she was rushed through the kitchen towards the back steps leading to her room where her two maids Lily and Ernestine worked fast to get her ready.

She was dunked in a tub of water where she was scrubbed clean under the disappointing huffs of her nanny who began cleaning the grime from beneath her nails. In a blur, she was lifted out of the filmy perfumed water, dried off, then sat on her chair.

Nervously, Ernestine dried and combed her unruly tresses as the curly wet strands seemed difficult to tame.

Finally, squeaky clean and smelling fresh as rain, she was helped into a beautiful evening gown that her father brought back from London. They stood back with satisfied smiles, admiring their handy work as she turned to look at herself in the mirror. 

With a shiver, she stepped closer to observe her appearance. The lacing at the back accentuated her small waist and moderate cleavage, and the color made her eyes appear lighter.

She felt out of sorts with it all. She had never dressed so. There was never a need. They rarely had guests. Very few traveled to these parts as of late due to the unbearable heat and weather. She was accustomed to it.

"You look absolutely breathtaking." The familiar deep voice pulled her away from her musings.

She turned slowly to look at her father standing near the door. Dressed in his uniform, he looked regal and distinguished. She smiled, taking in his warm gaze upon her. He raised his hands, and she walked slowly into his outstretched arms.

He kissed her forehead and slowly pulled her away to hold her at arm's length.

"Papa, who is coming to visit us?" she asked.

With a sigh, he lovingly cupped her cheeks before tapping her nose playfully.

"It is a surprise. Now, come, let us be off to supper before your grandfather finishes off my port and begins to eat without us." He offered his arm for her to hold as they descended the steps into the main dining room.

When they arrived, two gentlemen stood from their chairs. Her gaze fell on them both—one in uniform just like her father's and the other in evening attire. They smiled sweetly at her.

"Gentlemen, I present to you my daughter, Tempest." They politely bowed.

"Tempest, I present to you Mr. Faulkner, my solicitor, and Captain Monroe. He navigates the Floating Pearl." She turned to them with a smile and dipped into a curtsy.

"Shall we, gentleman?" he pointed to the table and pulled out a chair for her to sit. The gentlemen followed.

"Admiral Whitwell, you never mentioned you had such a beautiful daughter." Captain Monroe smiled.

She looked away shyly with a demure smile from the older gentleman that spoke.

"Indeed, I have not." He chuckled.

"She will be the belle of the coming season; I don't doubt it," he added.

She stiffened.

"The season?" She looked at her father.

He leaned forward and poured wine for them all waiting for dinner to be served.

"Yes, my dear, it is time for your coming out. This season, you will be attending. Your mother has sent word that she wants you to attend," he told her.

She swallowed hard at the lump forming in her throat. The London season. She would have to leave for London.

"Pish, posh...say it like it is—the marriage market," the grumbly voice behind her spoke up.

Slowly, she turned to watch her grandfather enter and take a seat beside her. He barely looked at the men seated before them.

"Hello, poppet." He bent over and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Hello, Grandfather," she whispered with a smile that barely touched her lips.

Her gaze fell to her father’s that glared angrily at her grandfather.

Ignoring her father, he continued.

"All it is is just a fancy way to prance around the poor girl like a chess piece for her mother's ambitious social gain," he huffed.

She lowered her head, saddened by her grandfather's words.

"Hold your tongue, old man. That is my wife you are insulting," her father hissed.

"Yes, and a very ungrateful daughter. She sends word for her pawn to come out, but does she send word to ask of my well-being? No!" He pounded the table with his fist.

A long stretch of silence followed. The men before them uncomfortably exchanged weary glances.

"She is going. End of story." Her father leaned forward.

Tempest's gaze shot up to meet his.

Unable to speak, her heart raced in her chest with her grandfather's next words.

"Yes, send my only grandchild to some poor old lech. The more wealth, the better," he scoffed sarcastically.

She paled.

"Enough!" her father fumed.

"Tell me, will the poor dear be a widow come her wedding night?" her grandfather questioned.

Tears filled her eyes as she gasped in horror, looking at her father that did not contradict her grandfather's words. He barely looked her way.

"Will the old buzzard you choose at least be able to consummate the marriage?"

The gentleman coughed, sputtering wine.

"That is enough!" her father shouted furiously.

She grew nauseous and bolted out of her chair and ran to her room. Tears blurred her vision.

She fled through the door, slamming it shut and locking it. She turned in tears, wept uncontrollably, and fell to her bed.

It wasn't until some time had passed that a solid tap came from her door, and the deep rumble of her father's voice could be heard on the other side. In an unwavering tone, he bid her open the door so that he could talk to her. Some more time passed before she stood and slowly walked to the door to let him in. She backed away with her head held low. He stood mere inches from her before gently reaching for her hands and pulling her over to a small settee in the corner.

A long-stretched silence filled the awkward void between them before he began to speak again.

"I know this is all very sudden. But you must understand, Tempest, that this is what is expected of you," he said gently, cupping her cheek and peering into her eyes.

"Why? Why must I? I do not want to leave here." She sniffled.

He sighed.

"My dear, the London season is upon us, and it is about time you make your debut. You missed last year. Your mother will have a fit if you miss this one as well," he said.

She lowered her head and slowly dashed away her tears.

"Sweetheart, if I had a say in this matter, you could stay, but my hands are tied. You must take up your obligation of finding a suitable marriage prospect," he whispered then continued, "You cannot spend your days running about wild, free, and barefoot on this land. Those days are behind you. You're a young lady of noble birth." He held her chin up.

She looked away from his gaze. For the first time in a long time, panic filled her chest and threatened to consume her, dreading that this day had come. The time when she must leave this beautiful island for the London season and be amongst her peers. It was inevitable she must go.

She lowered her head in silent acceptance of his words. Her bitter reality hung over her as the urge of a verbal refusal threatened to spill from her lips, but it could not.

"Do not worry, Father. I know what is required of me now," she whispered softly. Sad, painful regret flashed across his face as her shoulders slouched in defeat and more tears slid from her eyes.

With that said, she sat and listened quietly as her father spoke softly of her departure to London in two days' time. 'Home,' he mentioned. She drew in a deep breath, holding in her tears until he left.

Before she could think about his words, like a bolt of lightning, they vanished.

"Home is where the heart was," she whispered to herself.

And her home was Jamaica.

The Dead Knave...

Caribbean Sea **********

His head lulled back and forth as his unconscious body was dragged aboard the ship.

They anxiously walked the shaky planks that connected the ship to the port's dock. The salty sea air thick with fog cloaked just enough of the ship that night for them to do their dirty deed then be off before none the wiser.

He was tossed to the ground with a thud as the lithe figure followed and cleared a path to look down at the unconscious man on the floor then to the burly man that stood before her.

"There you have him. Where is my coin?" the thick Spanish accent spilled from the females' lips that did his bidding.

Seduce and lure the Black Scourge to the ship.

Triumphant cackles could be heard all around as the burly man stepped forward not before kicking the man's boot to ensure he was indeed unconscious and cautiously held out a pouch heavy with coins above her outstretched hand.

"You did well lass, better than I expected." He dropped the pouch in her palm.

"It was not hard, after pouring the sleeping drought in his wine it was easy," she shook her head staring down at the helpless man on the deck.

"Take him below and chain him up. Be wary of this one....," he warned.

Stepping aside they watched as he was dragged away.

"What will you do with him?" Curious eyes followed his body as the men dragged it out of sight.

Silence lulled between them before he faced her with a grin that chilled her to the bone.

"An old score to settle, lass. That is all you need to know."

With a dismissive retreat, he took off in the direction where they took his captive, leaving her there alone with his crew. One by one they walked away soon after she left as well.

Below deck, he ordered his men to chain the man to the wall and stepped aside waiting for them to finish. When they stepped away, he closed the distance and grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back to get a good look at the man that cost him an entire ship months ago.

The Black Scourge of the sea he was indeed. Fierce, dangerous, and very unpredictable as he has been for some time. He was victim to his revenging heart as he stole his loot, threw his men overboard, and sunk his ship. Justin O'Shea was not one to pick a few bones with that much he knew.

"Leave him there, sooner or later he will awaken and when he does, I want to be informed. Am I clear?" he ordered.

"Aye, Captain," they murmured stepping around him as they left him chained to the wall.

With disdain, the Captain spits on him before storming off with a gruff and cursing underneath.

In due time he will deal with O'Shea...

********

The rough swaying and movement beneath him slowly stirred him awake. With a groan, he tried to move but it was impossible to do so. Groggy and feeling faint, with very little strength left in him he reared his head back plopping it against the wall wincing at the enormous headache he was beginning to feel.

With a curse and groan, he straightened up a bit frowning now at the chains that held him against the wall. Slowly he opened his eyes blinking once then twice then again, he yanked his arms forward, but it was no use.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

He leaned his head up taking a look around. ‘Where was he?’ He thought.

He closed his eyes tight pushing through the thumps and trying to remember what happened.

"That damn fool Quinn must have overdone it with the wine." He shook his head hissing at the pain. But it still did not explain why he was chained to the wall.

He stiffened and squinted his eyes. He looked around again noticing for the first time this was not his ship.

He slouched back furiously. Jangling and pulling at his restraints trying to remember what happened. Then a sadistic smile formed on his lips with the memory of the beautiful woman that approached him in the tavern. That cunning wench was behind this.

Simmering with rage he yanked the chains again with a curse. He caught the slight movement at his side as someone sat up.

With a moan, the man snorted and stirred awake only to slouch back sloppily and begin to snore again.

With a scowl, Justin yanked his chains again and yelled to the man that was placed there obviously to watch him.

Scrambling to his feet and placing his hand on the hilt of his dagger, he faced Justin.

"Why am I chained to your wall?" He shouted straining against the iron bonds.

The man did not answer with a scoff he gave him a once over then turned to leave.

Justin's curses and threats followed at the man's heels as he walked away. A brief moment had passed as he continued to pull at them, he heard the heavy footsteps from up above coming close until he was faced with the person holding him prisoner.

"Cuthburt," he hissed furiously yanking on the chains.

With a devious smile, he inched closer.

" I see you are awake," he chuckled.

Justin said nothing as he glared at the man before him.

"Now that I finally caught you, you're going to lead me to where you have my treasure hidden." He demanded.

"You mean Gaspar's treasure, you thieving bastard," Justin clenched his jaw tight willing his emotions to calm.

Cuthburt laughed dismissing Justin's claim.

"His treasure. My treasure ‘tis all the same but last it was in my possession and I want it back," Cuthburt growled furiously.

"Yours? You mean stolen you, bloody bastard. You killed him. You murdered him in cold blood."

He angrily yanked on the chains as Cuthburt carelessly shrugged his shoulders. "It would not have come to that if he had just given it over without a fight." He stopped to face Justin. "He did not stand a chance either way."

"Agh!!! When I get free from these chains, I'll fly your bloody head as my banner," he yelled enraged ignoring the biting pain of the shackles on his wrists as the boards holding them, popped, croaked, and moaned under the pressure.

With a curse Cuthburt panicked and furiously punched him hard across his jaw once then twice until Justin slumped against the wall.

Between heavy breaths, as blood trickled down his chin he looked up into Cuthbert’s eyes.

" Ye will rue the day your mother spawned you ye mutinous dog," he spits at Cuthbert’s boot before he angrily cursed and kicked Justin across the jaw rendering him unconscious.

"Not as much as I rue the day your mother spawned you." He hissed turning away.

Upset and bothered with the outcome he stomped up the steps to the ship's deck where he inhaled deeply the fresh sea air. He needed the chest filled with all his possessions that Justin stole. Nervously he walked to the side of the ship where he gripped the railing tight for support.

He needed it back before Justin opened it and found out the truth. It was true, it all belonged to Gaspar. But it held secrets that could not be known. Not to him or anyone because he would surely die at Justin's hands.

He scoffed shaking his head staring sadly over the railing, reminiscing about his evil deed that put them all in this predicament. What a fankle he created all for the pretty smile and caresses of a willing whore and greed of a couple of coins. He ruined the life of a young lad, helped kill his father then his uncle. All for what?

For karma in the shape of Justin O’shea to exact his revenge upon ye you old fool...