Free Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress by Judith E. French

superstitious man, I no more believe in witches than I do in ghosts.”
    “So say you, but I saw a woman burned once for witchcraft. Besides, I’ve never met a sailor who wasn’t full of fancies.”
    He shrugged. “You’ve met one now. And yes, to answer your question, I did fight under Captain Morgan.” Fool that he was, he’d done it. But then, it wasn’t really Morgan he’d followed, but Matthew Kay, captain of the Miranda and the closest thing to a father he’d ever known. It was Matt who’d taught him how to maneuver a brigantine through a gap in a coral reef in a hurricane, and Matt who’d kept him alive long enough to call himself privateer.
    Matthew had gone down with the Miranda off Arawak, and James had mourned the captain as much as the loss of his own freedom. Taking back the treasure would help avenge Matt’s death.
    Some of Lacy’s color returned. “I was just wondering,” she said. “Were ye with Morgan when he attacked Porto Bello or when he raided Panama City?”
    James swallowed. Too many nights he’d thought of Panama. It wasn’t a memory that a man cherished. “Panama City,” he said. His friend Corbin had died of snakebite on the way. He’d taken the strike above his boot, and his leg had swelled until it didn’t look human. They’d buried him in a water-filled grave and pushed on toward the Spaniards and glory.
    “We heard Henry Morgan burned the town and took a king’s ransom in gold.”
    “For a whore, you’re well-informed on what happened an ocean away.”
    “My family lives by the sea. Toby—he was a gunner before he took consumption—he told us. He works for my father. Toby’s been to the American Colonies and as far south as Barbados. He fought the Spanish once, said that the men on his ship battled like tigers because the Spaniards would burn Englishmen alive if they captured them. Is that so?”
    He nodded. “Yes. They hold us all to be heretics.”
    “Zooterkins.” Her mood darkened. “I can think of better ways to die than being roasted alive.”
    “So can I.” He stood up, suddenly eager to make a decision about her. “You claim to know ships,” he said, tossing her the length of rope. “Tie a catspaw.”
    She erupted into merry laughter. “Why should I?”
    “Prove it. Tie the damned knot, woman.”
    Her fingers flew. In seconds, she held up the knot he’d asked for.
    “Sheepshank,” he prodded. She complied. “Timber hitch.”
    “Give me your arm, Jamie.” Woodenly, he held it out and she encircled it with the rope, twisting the hemp into the knot he’d demanded. “I can tie a half-hitch around your neck, if you’d like,” she said saucily. Her chin went up and she stared at him boldly. “Shall I furl the sails? Or take a sounding?” Her cinnamon-brown eyes dared him to give her a task she couldn’t perform.
    He took a deep breath, trying to think straight—trying to ignore how magnificent she looked with the sunlight reflecting off her bright hair ... and her mouth ... her mouth so damned full and provocative.
    He’d put in to shore and let her off. It was the only sensible thing to do. He started to tell her so.
    “I’m going to the Caribbean,” he said instead. “I’m going on this boat.”
    “Why in God’s name would ye want to do that?”
    “I know where there’s a Spanish treasure, a treasure to make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. Come with me. Help me sail this damned boat there, and I’ll give you a share.”
    “A share of a madman’s dream,” she mocked.
    “The treasure’s real enough.”
    “Why me?”
    “You said it yourself. It takes two to sail this pink properly. I’ve got a better chance if you come along.”
    Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Sail across the ocean with you? In the Silkie?”
    “What’s waiting for you in England, Lacy?”
    She sat down on the deck as though her legs had collapsed under her. “You’re serious.”
    “I am.” Suddenly, he wanted her to come. Wanted her so