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LENGTH: Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2004
ISBN 1-58608-439-9
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Rating: Contains sexual content and violence in keeping with the period.

CARIBBEAN SPLENDOR

By

Tracy L. Ranson

© copyright April 2004 by Tracy L. Ranson
Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright April 2004
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Prologue

June 1770

"Are you certain, ma cherie?" Raven questioned with his body poised over hers, ready to bring pleasure to her yet again. His voice was soft and warm, like finely aged brandy slipping down her throat.

"Aye, that I am, Raven," she whispered softly as her hands traced the soft angles of his jaw where the slight growth of beard tickled her fingers. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

"Then so am I," he murmured, his lips tantalizing the skin of her neck, igniting all of her emotions.

"May I take off this blindfold?" she asked in a whispery breath as her senses rose higher. "I want to see you."

"Not yet," he said, extending his arm away from her. She heard the hiss of an extinguished light before his lips returned to their former position. "Now you can."

Blaze removed her blindfold only to discover he had plunged the cave into total darkness. "Why did you put out the light?"

"'Tis too dangerous for you to see me, ma cherie," he said seductively as his fingers trailed down her belly toward her womanhood. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

With his slow ministrations, Blaze didn't bother to protest about the light anymore. His hands were all she needed. Languorously her hands traveled up and down, delighting in the hardened, chiseled plans of his body as well as the smoothness of his skin. Blaze shuddered. Why didn't Daniel make her feel this way?

* * * *

Blaze awoke and stretched languorously. How long had she been asleep? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that the ground was hard and unforgiving, its deep earthy smell mingling with the sweet scent of their lovemaking. She inhaled deeply. That was one aroma she wasn't going to forget as long as she lived. Perhaps....

Raven moved slightly, turning over on his back and taking her into his arms. "Are you awake, mon amie?" he asked sleepily.

"Aye," she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his bare chest. "Now that I've given myself to you, I am yours totally." Suddenly, he grew tense and stiff. "Is there something wrong?" Her heart banged in her throat. Did she say something wrong?

"Nay, my sweet," he replied then moved to sit up. "You caught me unaware 'tis all."

"I will go anywhere you ask, my love," she said, stroking the rope like muscled arm. "I belong only to you."

He let out a deep sigh. "You do not know what you are saying, ma cherie. If you come away with me, it means that you will never see your family ever again."

"I know what it means," she said, continuing to touch his velvety flesh, "From the moment I kissed you and you made love to me, I was always yours. It has never been any other way."

Without a word, Raven got to his feet and started dressing.

Blaze was stunned. Was this the action of a man who had just been told that a woman loved him with all her heart? "Did I upset you?"

She heard the distant shuffle of breeches as he drew them on and his shirt. Was he going to answer her question or leave her here to find her own way out?

"Since you have given me such a wonderful gift, I'm not wasting it," he said triumphantly. She heard the rustle of silk as he moved to get his boots. "I'm going to leave for a while but I will return. Can I trust you not to run away? To wait for me?"

She leaned up, clutching his arm. "Where are you going?"

Raven tamped his feet into his boots, the hard thud resounding through the cavernous region. "You will have to trust me."

"How will I know you'll be back?"

She felt him kneel next to her. Raven took her hands into his gloved ones, laying her naked palm on his bare chest through the open vee of his shirt. "This tells you," he said in a gentle voice. "This beats only for you. Will you stay?"

"Without question."

With that assurance, he possessed her lips with a fierce abandon then left her, threading his way through the formations that she had bumped into from time to time.

Blaze leaned back, a smile crossing her lips. Finally, the passion she had dreamed about all her life was finally to be hers. To hell with her father. Her grin widened. To hell with Daniel too.

* * * *

Moments ticked by and Raven didn't return.

How long had he been gone?

She wasn't sure. Without any light beside the dim glow of the rocks in the cave, she couldn't tell.

Blaze smoothed down the tattered remains of her calico gown. It was all she could do to keep from trying to find her way out of the cave but she'd promised him that she would wait. So, she would sit here quietly until he came for her.

With the boredom came the tiredness. Her eyelids grew heavy, threatening to close. Suddenly, she heard the distant beat of horses' hooves coming closer to the cave. Was it Raven returning as he had promised?

Blaze leapt to her feet while her heart pounded out control. Her passage to freedom was almost upon her....

"Blaze! Blaze, where are you?" echoed a familiar male voice, sounding irritated and angry.

Her blood turned cold as the harsh voice echoed through the empty caverns. It sounded like Daniel.

"Blaze? Damn it! Where are you?" he shouted, his voice rebounding through the cave. Daniel didn't sound too happy.

She put her hand over her mouth and sank to her knees, her mind whirling. Please let him go by, she prayed. I don't want him to discover me.

Without warning, her resolved quickened. Raven's lair must not be discovered!

From what she could remember, Raven always exited to her left. Daniel's voice was coming from the right. That meant there must be another tunnel. If she got out of here....

Blaze darted to her left, her hands feeling the rough edges of the formations as she brushed past them, her heart in her throat.

Was she going the right way?

She put her hands in front of her and felt along the wall until she found the opening. With quick feet, she pushed through it, her hands brushing along the walls. The air was more acrid and salty, almost like she was close to sea. Follow it, her instinct told her. Hopefully, it should bring her to the other side.

The floor was damper here than it was inside the cavern. Somehow, it must let out somewhere near the sea. Each step brought her closer to the distant pounding flooded the heady air. Her heart lightened. It must be water crashing against rocks!

Another five steps and Blaze turned a bend. At the end was a bright shaft of pale gray light streaming through it. The end she'd been looking for!

Blaze picked up her pace and moved toward it, pushing through the small opening.

Finally, she was free!

The day was overcast and gray, most forgiving on her unadjusted eyes. Ahead of her, the sea yawned, sapphire blue with mild whitecaps. It rolled in to kiss the sand with regularity then retreated again. Sand, soft and powdery, felt warm under her dirty feet. Now, all she need do is wait here for Raven....

"Blaze!" shouted another familiar male voice.

The temperature of her blood cooled even more. There was only one man to whom that voice belonged to.

She slowly turned to see her father, Lord Combermere, mounted on his stallion overlooking the lush ridge. "She's over here, boys!" he shouted then pushed his horse down the ridge. Within moments, he was in front of her, dismounting his chestnut stallion. "Where ye been, gel?" he cried in his thick Scottish accent. "We hava been worryin' about ye since yer horse came back and ye did not!" The strong familiar aroma of tobacco clung to coat and person. Normally, it would have comforted her but this time it only served to add to anxiety to her discovery.

"I ... I ... guess I fell," she stammered. "All I remember is my horse throwing me."

"Remind me to shoot that nag," he murmured as he pulled away to examine her face. "Ye have a large bruise on yer forehead, gel. Do ye remember what happened?"

"No, Father," she lied. The one thing she would never do is betray Raven.

With that, Daniel and the others came riding over the hill, their frock coats waving in the breeze. From the look on his face, her fiancé was not entirely happy at finding her.

Daniel pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted. He strode over to her in a concerned gait, taking her into a hard embrace. "Blaze, I'm so glad we found you! I can't tell you how much I've missed you," he murmured in a voice tinged with false concern. "I thought something terrible had happened."

"I'm all right," she said, her heart falling to her feet. This was not what she wanted to happen. "How long have I been gone?"

"Three days, gel. You've had me, your mother and your poor betrothed," her father said, gesturing to Daniel, "out of our minds with worry. Promise me that ye won't go riding without someone else with you."

"I ... I ... promise," she said shakily. Her mind spun.

How was she going to let Raven know she didn't leave of her own free will?

"That's a good gel," her father announced as he remounted his horse. "Come, let us get ye back to Collingwood and looked at by a physician."

"That is a most excellent idea, Lord Combermere," Daniel piped in. "I'll take Blaze with me."

"I wouldn't want her with anyone else," he chuckled and turned his animal toward the rise of the hill and scaled it with the others in tow.

Once they were out of sight, Daniel leaned in close, drawing her toward him. "I know you've been with another man, you little wench," he hissed. "I'll find out who the bastard is and kill him."

"I haven't been with anyone, Daniel. I simply fell and hit my head. That's all," she said through clenched teeth, her anger rising. Why did she have to marry him in the first place? The muscles along the shelf of her jaw tightened. If only Daniel didn't have money or good breeding, she could be with the man she loved. Why must everything in her life revolve around status and money?

His lecherous eyes traveled up and down her body. "I know you have because I can smell another man on you. If you ever think you're going to take a lover after we're married, think again."

She whirled around, the heat of her anger igniting her cheeks. "Just what do you think you'll do about it if I decide to?" What difference did it make to Daniel? She wanted him no more than he wanted her.

His grip tightened. "If I catch you with another man, I'll kill you both without hesitation," he leered. "I always thought you were a whore now you've proved me right."

"Let go of me!" she demanded as she tried to writhe out of his grip.

"Never, my dear. I'm just as stuck with you as you are with me. If it weren't for that ridiculous marriage clause in my father's will, I'd be rid of you. But, such as the situation is, we'll just have to deal with it."

"Don't expect me to be the dutiful wife, Daniel. I refuse to play that part," she hissed, trying to wrest herself from his grip. The only thing she wanted to do was to run back to the safety of the cave and hide away until Raven returned. It was the only place she truly felt safe.

A malicious grin spread across his thin lips. "Oh you will and bear me as many brats as possible. You'll turn a blind eye to my infidelities because I have no plans on being discreet," he smirked. "There really is no point, is there?"

"I hate you, Daniel Montgomery, and I always will," she spat as she freed herself from his clutch.

His hateful laughter rang through the air, echoing in the mouth of the cave. "As I hate you, my dear, but it is really best to make the most of the situation is it not?"

* * * *

Justin returned to the cave from readying everything for his and Blaze's departure, his heart light. When Blaze first proposed going with him, he was taken aback. He had never considered the possibility of an ongoing relationship with her. He had seduced her for the sole purpose of getting revenge on her fiancé, Daniel Montgomery. Now that he'd tasted from her cup of passion, he wanted more. He hungered for her like no other woman, scaring him down to his soul. He'd never felt like this before. Usually, he'd leave a woman's bed as soon as the lovemaking was over. He had a rule. One time only and that was it. He had no room in his life for love.

His anger flared slightly. Had it not been for Daniel Montgomery, he'd never have found his father lying in his study in a pool of blood with a broken decanter near his hand.

Justin blinked hard as the hated images arose.

He had walked into Father's study to ask some sound advice on a matter when he discovered his father face down in a pool of blood. Father had cut his own throat.

In Father's fingers, he had found the reason why. Daniel Montgomery, preying upon the Earl's passion for gambling, had filched everything belonging to the Blackmore family, short of the title. After his father's funeral, Justin received a note asking him to honor his father's debt. At first, he refused, thinking it was a ruse to get money. After checking with the steward, he confirmed the validity of the debt. So Justin paid it and embarked on a career of piracy in order to keep everything they owned and his mother and sisters safe. He scowled. If it hadn't been for....

"Blaze? Mon amie? Ma cherie?" he called out into the darkness.

Nothing.

He called for her again. His voice echoed through the jagged crags, amidst the lichen-encased rocks only to bounce back to him eerily.

His pulse quickened along with his heart. Where was she?

Justin stepped inside of the cave and struck a match, finding his way to the candles. He lit them and searched around the dank cavern.

She was gone.

He sank down to a rock, running his gloved hands through his wild black hair. He should have known she would run. She promised she wouldn't but something deep down inside of him knew she was a temptress with no redeeming qualities. Perhaps she had known his intentions all along and played his emotions as well as he played hers....

Flying to his feet, Justin paced around the dim cavern, his gloved fist slamming into the other. It may just well be that she and Daniel had known of his plan and decided to beat him at his own game.

Justin looked up, his fists clenching. Blaze had played him for a fool.

He let out a frustrated sigh. Perhaps she did not go willingly. After all, he tasted the sincerity in her kiss as well as tasted it from her body. What if Daniel had found her and dragged her back...?

His fists clenched harder. No matter what it took, he would find Daniel and Blaze. For Daniel, he'd make him pay. For Blaze, he was going to get the truth one way or another.

Chapter 1

Daniel was dead. Killed by the hand of an angry gambler who accused her husband of cheating. Lonely tears tracked down her face. They weren't for Daniel because she had never shed any tears for him in the past and there was no reason to start now. No, the tears were for her uncertain future as well as Beau's. What if all that Daniel owned passed back into his family's hands? How would they survive?

She should have expected Daniel's death, given his penchant for gambling and women, among his many other vices. What had surprised her was the fact it had taken his enemies this long to do it.

Eerie silence enveloped her as she sat in the damask chair near the window, adding to the numbness flooding her body, making her tense. What was to become of her? She cared nothing for society status so its loss was not important. Her only concern now was income. What kind of position could she obtain? Being the daughter of an English blueblood did not rank high on the employability list.

Blaze Elizabeth Montgomery rose from her chair, letting the telltale parchment fall from her stunned fingertips. Soft sighs escaped her lips as she strode over to the window and placed her hands on the chilly marble sill. Strands of her fiery red hair floated free from its confining snood but she didn't care. None of it mattered now. Perfect images and appearances were of no importance now.

Her husband was gone as well as the life she knew.

So, why couldn't she be the least little upset at the fact he was dead?

Maybe if she loved him, at least a little, she would have been. The fact of the matter was she had hated him with all she had in her. He had been loud and rude not to mention cruel at times. For years, he had paraded his many mixed mistresses in front of her as if they were trophies, meant to hurt her. It did nothing of the sort, only succeeding to drive her further away. The only constant and comfort in her life was little Beau, the quiet reminder of a love long past.

Blaze leaned forward, gazing deeply at the white sand gracing the edge of the lush verge growing under her windows, its specks glowing as though diamonds nestled in the powdery material. Slaves and freemen, their dark skin glistening in the sun, loaded the ships with precious sugar for the rum makers. When she had first come here, she would marvel for hours how well the men worked together, almost like cogs in a wheel. Here, no one was black or white. They all yearned for the same thing, something to call their own.

Her thoughts traveled back to vitality of Splendour. Ah, this wonderful plantation! Her husband's family had built Splendour two generations before, having come from England in search of riches. In Martinique, one could find plenty of that.

Shortly after arriving, the Montgomerys had set up shop and made a quick fortune from sugar cane and pearl cultivation. After a short while, they had discarded the pearl cultivation because it was not as lucrative as the sugar cane. With all of this, Daniel's great grandfather had been able to buy the governorship of the island before the English had handed it back to France.

Her thoughts swiftly returned from the past, enabling her to revel in the beauty before her. Crystal, sapphire waves of the sea greeted her, topped with whitecaps rolling in to kiss the pale sand, wetting it through. In the distance, she watched as a schooner sailed closer to the shore, dropping anchor a safe distance away. White sails, made of starched white canvas, rippled in the strong wind before they came down for docking. The dark vessel bobbed gently in the rolling water, the ocean spray lapping at the hull.

Somehow, that ship reminded her of him. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, making a thin sheen of sweat form on her brow. Oh, how many times had she dreamt of him, her body shivering with anticipation and longing. He made her body alive and filled with desire, an emotion she had not felt in five years.

Raven.

His name blazed into her memory as a brand burned into wood. The feel of his hands over her body, awakening every inch, making her tremble with anticipation ... Blaze shivered. She had to stop thinking about Raven.

Blaze stood rock still, staring outside, her heart beating quickly as the shivers ran up and down her spine. She couldn't think about him anymore. He was a rogue pirate and an undeniable part of her past, but that was all he was.

She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged tightly, as the fears seemed to mount. What was to become of both of them?

"Mama, where's Papa?" Beau yawned as he entered the room, dragging his well-worn doll by one arm.

She turned at the sound of his voice to see him sleepily rubbing his eyes. Her lips widened in a smile. He was the most precious man in her life. "Why are you up, my sweet?" she questioned softly, hiding her emotions for the moment.

Five-year-old Beau shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Mama," he said, his head swiveling around, surveying the room. "Why isn't Papa here?" He stood there in his long nightshirt, clutching the stuffed doll she had given him at Christmas time under his arm. Black tendrils gleamed in the morning sun, taking on an almost blue hue. He was so beautiful.

Tears welled in her eyes. If only Raven could see him! He would certainly be proud of the little man Beau turned out to be.

She slipped into the gold brocade chair and smoothed her ivory gown out, gesturing for him to sit. A smile lit up his face as he ran to her open arms and climbed into her lap. "Now, my sweet, I have something to tell you," she said softly, swiping his hair from his brow. "Your papa is not coming back."

Beau's dark eyebrows shot upwards in question. "Why not?"

Blaze let a tear roll out of her eye so Beau would think it was for Daniel. It wasn't. That bit of emotion was for Beau's beauty as well her own shame at not being able to tell Raven that she carried his child. "Because, my precious, he has gone to sing with the angels."

"Just like old Emma did last year?"

She sat in surprise for a moment, her eyes wide. "I didn't know you remembered that Emma died last year."

His little legs kicked. "I do remember her because she always gave me sugar biscuits when you weren't around."

"Oh," she replied weakly. "I am sorry about your papa, little one."

"I'm not."

She tilted his head up as shock from his words ran through her. "What do you mean? You can't be glad your father is dead?"

Beau shrugged as his hands rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Aye, I am glad he is dead."

"Why?"

"He used to call me 'bastard child' and do mean things to me when you weren't home," Beau murmured as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his pudgy fingers wiping them away.

Blaze embraced him hard as the remainder of her heart shattered into fragments. She knew what Beau meant. On several occasions, she had returned from town to find Beau with new bruises. Once, she found that he had a sprained arm. He said that had happened when he was playing with the slave children. Daniel had concurred. Later that night, she had crept into Beau's room and examined his arm while he was asleep. A plethora of bruises had covered his injured arm with some of the inflictions looking angry.

Why had she not questioned that before? What kind of a mother would let her child be hurt?

Her emotions tumbled inside of her like a turbulent sea, as anger became a frightening storm. If she had known this was happening, Daniel would have died at her hand, no one else's. He didn't deserve to live. Thankfully, he no longer did.

Blaze swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. "So Daniel was the one who hurt your arm and did other things to you?"

Her son lowered his head in shame. "Aye, he did. He made me promise never to tell you. He said he'd kill my kitten if I did."

She held him tight, never wanting to let go. "Never forget, my darling, that none of that was your fault. It was mine. I didn't protect you as I should have," she murmured as she rocked him back and forth slowly. "I'll never let it happen again," she promised, her cheek caressing his silky soft hair.

"'Tis all right, Mama," he whispered. "He is gone and he won't hurt either of us any more."

"No, he won't."

Blaze held her son tight as a maelstrom of tears escaped his eyes while more tales came from his lips.

Iron clad resolve filled her soul, forcing her determination to take over. No matter what she ever had to do, she would always protect Beau from the cruelties of life. He would never know another day of suffering while she was alive.

* * * *

Dark, malicious clouds crossed the overcast sky, marching as though they were an advancing army out to destroy their enemies. Soft breezes swept through the small Montgomery family cemetery as they stood before the gray stone vault, the wind rustling the tall blades of emerald colored grass growing wild around the base. Daniel's simple wooden coffin rested on biers, covered in more flowers.

Blaze stood next to Beau holding his tiny hand. Yards of black silk covered her, culminating in an ebony bonnet with matching sheer veil covering her face. Beau was equally clad in midnight colored silk. Only a handful of people had turned out to for Daniel's funeral, most of them probably had money owed to them by Daniel.

Blaze shrugged it off. Most of the women in the town didn't trust her, let alone talk to her. She didn't care. They were nothing but nosy hens anyway.

"We commit the body of your beloved servant, Daniel Robert Montgomery, to the ground. From the earth he came and to the earth he shall return. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the priest droned on as he read from the giant Bible in his hands.

Blaze tuned him out and slowed her heartbeat, gripping Beau's hand tighter in her gloved fist. No matter what happened, Beau would never know the secret of his true parentage.

* * * *

Two days after the solemn funeral, Blaze decided to take Beau to town for a little while in order to get his mind off the solemnity of the occasion. She let him play with the town children amid the glowering eyes of the town people. Unsavory murmurs about her peppered the air and she tried to block them out but it was without success. What did they know anyway?

"She's a witch with that red hair," an older woman openly commented to another elderly hen as they walked down the street behind her. "A real devil's woman."

"It can't be natural," cackled another woman joining the pack. "I'll be she uses something on it."

"To think, she is out and about the day of her husband's funeral!" one young girl gasped. "That child is playing as though he hasn't a care in the world! The dirt has barely settled on her husband's coffin!"

"Well, what did you expect from a woman like her? After all, her son isn't the product of her husband."

"No!" they gasped in unison

Blaze ignored them as their mindless chatter continued, the hurt carving deep grooves into her soul. She was no witch. Her only fault was being born with natural attributes other women envied.

The insults continued until she couldn't take it anymore. Blaze called Beau over and he reluctantly left the town children, climbing sourly into the carriage. She followed him, the insults still ringing in her ears.

"Well, I heard she's had more than one man waiting on her arm," replied the other nosy woman. "I'll bet he's another woman's husband."

Part of her rebellious side wanted to retort a stinging reply to those nosy hens but she restrained herself. What good would it do? Bring her down to their level of insults? No, she had far more intelligence than that. "Drive on, Martin," she ordered the sleek black driver and slid back into the hard leather seat. She left them staring at her. Living well and being happy would be the best revenge on them.

* * * *

Her carriage, stamped with the crest and motto of Splendour, pulled to a halt in front of Madame Garland, the seamstress' establishment. "We're here, Beau," she said, nudging her sleeping son next to her.

He rubbed his eyes with both fists. "Where are we, Mama? I want to go home and play," he said plaintively as boredom crept into his voice.

"We're here to buy you some new clothes," she stated sternly as she stepped out of the carriage and helped him out. "You don't like wearing rags, do you?"

Beau shrugged and yawned. "No, I guess not but I have a lot of clothes at home. Why do I need more when I would rather have toys?"

"Come with me," she sighed. Argument was one thing she was not in the mood for today.

She knocked on the door. There was no response. Blaze looked to the gauzy curtain in the window and saw it part slightly. Good. Madame Garland's was open.

The door opened revealing a plump blond woman with scowl on her face. "Yes?" Normally, Madame Garland was cheerful and happy, always ready to hand Beau a sugar cookie when she came to have her dresses made. She frowned. What caused the sudden change of heart?

She straightened her black bonnet, allowing the ribbons to dance on the breeze. "How are you today, Madame Garland?"

"Good. What can I do for you?" she questioned through slashed red lips.

"Well, I'd like you to measure Beau for a new suit...."

She shook her head sternly, refusing them entry by placing her bulky form covered in blue wool in the way. "I'm afraid not."

"Why not?"

Madame Garland thrust a stack of parchments in her direction, her scowl deepening and allowing the corners of her scarlet tinted lips to pull downward. "Here are all the bills still unpaid by your husband. I will not do any more work until these get paid first."

Shocked by Madame Garland's attitude, Blaze went on the defensive. "I'm sure there's some mistake. If you will just send those to my steward...," she pleaded.

"I have," she barked. "He told me there was no money to pay them."

"There's money to pay them! Let me see those charges," she demanded. Madame Garland dropped them in her gloved hand.

She stared at the telltale numbers.

Ten pounds for her ivory dress and matching hat.

Fifteen pounds for Daniel's white waistcoat and breeches with matching frock coat .

Three pounds for hair ribbons.

The list went on and on. Blaze rifled through them, her mind exploding with confusion and anger. What in the world was going on?

She handed them back. "There is a mistake because I know I've got the money. I'll meet with Monsieur LaSalle and see what the problem is. You will be paid."

"I'd better," the older woman snarled, "or else I will turn you into the governor as a debtor." With that, Madame Garland pushed her large frame through the open door slammed it rudely.

Blaze's anger brimmed to the surface but she managed to quell it with a few deep breaths.

This was a mistake.

It simply had to be.

* * * *

Blaze sat before the roaring fire with a tumbler of brandy in her hand she sipped slowly. The last few days had not gone well, starting with Daniel's funeral. Barely anyone showed up except those who thought they'd get something from his demise. She could take the staring but when they had started whispering behind their hands and pointing to her then to Beau, giggling all the while, she ignored them. They weren't worth her trouble to acknowledge.

After the disastrous trip to Madame Garland's, her next journey had been to the shoemaker. He too, had refused her service because of previously unpaid bills. Like Madame Garland, he had gone to her steward, asking for money. Her steward had none to give.

She took a deep breath. Where had all the money gone? Had Daniel gambled it all away?

Worry beat at the temple of her head, tearing at the last remnants of her sanity. Had Daniel lost the deed to Splendour as well?

Blaze took another strong sip, feeling it burn down her throat. Drinking herself into oblivion held no enchantment for her but it did help calm her erratic nerves, enabling her to see things more clearly.

Just as she began to ponder again, soft raps echoed through the room. "Come in," she said half-heartedly, her head swimming in the effects of the brandy.

Angelique, Beau's mulatto nanny, entered the room, her dainty hands behind her back. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

She nodded, refusing to look at anything but the fire. "I am fine, Angelique. Is something wrong?"

Angelique sat in the chair across from her, garnering her attention. Dark hair wrapped around her slender head in multiple braids. Jet colored eyes glared out from under dusky lashes, complemented by high cheekbones, a mark of her Indian ancestry. "It's just some of the servants are getting upset and are threatening to quit if we cannot collect our wages."

"How long as has it been since any of you have been paid?" she questioned quietly despite the fact her anxiety had just tripled.

"More than a month, I do believe," Angelique offered, then sat down across her from her. "We don't want to leave, ma'am. We all love it here."

"So why is everyone threatening to leave?" she said in a slightly belligerent tone. Her servants had previously vowed their undying loyalty until the end. So why were they trying to abandon the sinking ship? No, she would not have everyone leaving her at once.

"I'm not, ma'am," Angelique confessed as she wiped a tear away from her eyes. "It's just that some cannot support their families on nothing."

"If they need food to keep them going, tell everyone to take what they need from the larder," she offered. Maybe that would smooth things over, at least for a little while.

"There is little there, ma'am. The cook cannot buy any more food because the merchant has not been paid in quite a while."

Fury swelled to dangerous tide, making her tremble. When was it going to end? "How much food is left?" she asked wearily, knowing her anger couldn't change anything and gave it up.

Angelique shrugged. "One week, maybe two if the cook can stretch it a bit."

"Good. Tell her to do that," she said sternly, her hands wrapped firmly around the tumbler. "Tomorrow I'm going to see Monsieur LaSalle and see exactly how much is left. The harvest is coming next week and with the cane we have produced, it should be more than enough cover the debt. Tell everyone, I will pay them at the end of next week."

Aye, the harvest! Suddenly, her heart lifted when she said that. She must have completely forgotten about it beforehand. Their plantation had produced more cane last year and the year before that, more than any other plantation in Martinique. Why couldn't they do that again this year?

Angelique breathed a sigh relief, her hand going to her chest. "That is wonderful, ma'am. I will let everyone know," she said happily, bouncing up from her chair. "They'll all be grateful."

"I'm pleased. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little time to myself to think things through."

Angelique bowed. "Aye, ma'am. Would you like me to draw you a bath later?"

She shook her head. "I will let you know if I decide to bathe. Until then, I have a lot to think about before I go and see the solicitor tomorrow. I do not want to be disturbed for the rest of the evening."

"If you should have need of me, just ring."

"I will," Blaze promised as she poured herself another tumbler of brandy.

Once Angelique was gone, she leaned back in the heavily embroidered yellow settee, propping her feet on the matching footstool. She held the glass up to the flames, watching with fascination how the brandy distorted the fire. In an odd sort of way, it reminded her of her own life. Twisted and turned so that it was hard to tell what was false and what was true.

A sudden plethora of tears filled her eyes.

Where was Raven when she needed him?

* * * *

The ship bucked against the waves, making the wrought iron light bob above his head. Smooth polished boards glowed with a dull golden shine. Justin watched it for a moment then let his mind drift as it always did when he finished a raid. He lay on his bunk, stripped to his waist, letting the cool sea breeze blow over him. This raid had been better than the last, bringing more gold than he had ever expected.

When he had received the information that the H.M.S. Winston would be sailing from the coast of England, near Liverpool, a certain thrill surged through him.

Liverpool and Lady Combermere.

He could still remember the sweet smell of those fiery strands as they spilled through his hands while he buried himself in her body, making mad passionate love to her in that cave.

His midsection tightened. How lucky it had been to find his mortal enemy's fiancée lying in the tall grass, unconscious from a fall. Justin snorted. Luck had nothing to do with it. He had been following her movements for weeks, watching and waiting for the right moment. She had a penchant for riding alone, so one day he had followed her to her favorite spot. He had noticed her horse was a skittish mare so he managed to put a harmless snake in her path. Her horse reared, throwing her into the meadow where she had hit her head on a rock. The rest was easy. Several passion-filled few days in the cave completed that part of his plan. Her seduction had been uncomplicated but the havoc it wreaked on his senses was not. The way her body swam under his, so soft and surrendering....

Justin sat up quickly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, a souvenir from his last raid. He had to stop thinking about her. She had abandoned him, perhaps some sordid part of her plan.

He played into her hands like a lust filled school-boy, believing all the words falling from her lips. She had bewitched his mind, making him want her all the time. So, when she had offered herself to him, he had hesitated at first but as he thought about it, he had decided to take her with him.

Wouldn't it be the perfect revenge?

He had returned to the cave, his suspicion on alert. What if she were not there as she had promised she would be? Nay, from the way she spoke to him, she wanted to leave with him.

Inside the cave, silence had greeted him, confirming she was gone.

What a lying temptress she was. Perhaps Daniel knew what he intended to do and sent his little harlot to do his bidding.

Justin snarled. He was no woman's toy and never would be. He had never forgotten or forgiven her for what happened those long five years ago. She took over his mind before he knew what happened then left him. That was his method, not hers.

She was the tease and temptress he thought her to be.

He grinned widely. It wasn't as though he was actually in love with her but it was the principle of the situation. Thankfully, he thought far enough ahead to make sure that she never saw him. That way, if they ever met again in person, he could get the truth out of her.

Soft thuds echoed through the room. "Justin?"

"Come in, Henri," he stated, running his hands through his wild tangle of jet colored hair.

Henri, the closest thing he had to a brother, opened the door and stepped inside. His blond hair, dusted with a bit of powder, glinted in the sun. Gray wool covered him while a matching walking stick remained firmly tucked in his hand. "Good morning, my friend. What news of the Colonies?"

Justin yawned. "They are fighting for their freedom from tyrannical England."

"I take it they were grateful for the cloth and food you gave them."

He nodded, wincing at another twinge in his shoulder. "Aye, they were. The man I met with, Benjamin Franklin, was particularly happy because I brought some good tobacco with me this time."

"Don't they harvest their own?" Henri pondered as he picked up a pipe and lit it, inhaling deeply.

"Aye, they do but for some reason, they're having trouble so I managed to steal a few bags of special tobacco seeds that should work well in that soil."

Henri let out a puff of smoke to waft lazily through the air like a white puffy cloud. "I suppose that should keep them happy until we bring them another load," he said then took another deep draw. "Where are we bound for now?" he said as he let another stream of smoke from his nose.

"Martinique," he said dryly. He had found Daniel and his wife after five years of extensive looking, paying every informant with his ill-gotten gains. He was going to destroy Daniel Montgomery just as Daniel had destroyed his family.

"What's in Martinique that is so interesting? I've been there a dozen times and there's nothing that wonderful about it," Henri conjectured as he put his feet up on the deep leather of the bench.

"I have my reasons," he replied.

A blond brow rose. "Care to enlighten me?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Do you remember Daniel Montgomery?"

Surprise crawled across Henri's aristocratic features. "You don't mean to tell me...?"

"That I've found him after all these years? Aye, I have and I intend to destroy him as well as that wife of his."

Deep laughter erupted from Henri's throat. "Still steaming after that little wench up and left you? I'm not surprised. Normally, it's the other way around."

Justin gritted his teeth in an effort to abate his seething anger over the situation. "That has nothing to do with it, you stupide ane," he stated, pronouncing the last words with a perfect French accent.

Henri's blue eyes narrowed. "I resent being called an ignorant ass in my own language," he smirked, "even if it's true. Now, tell me, what does it have to do with?"

"Nothing," he growled. It had everything to do with her leaving but he wasn't about to let on. He looked to Henri. From the expression on his friend's face, he wasn't doing a good enough job.

"Say that all you want, my friend, but you're still upset that she walked away from you. The great Justin Blackmore, Second Earl of Sexton, has been spurned!" Henri jibed.

"Get out, Henri," he ordered in a surly tone. "I want to be alone for a while."

Henri got up, his mirth still ringing through the room. "All right, Justin. You win this time," he said as he was stepping outside the door. "This trip to Martinique should be interesting indeed."

The slamming of the door ricocheted around the room, piercing the uneasy silence.

What was he thinking?

He couldn't just go to Martinique and surprise them both. No, there had to be another way to do this. He didn't want them to see him coming.

Justin lay back down on his bunk and stared at the polished oak ceiling above his head. A wrought iron lantern swung back and forth in time with the ship, moving in time with the gentle slaps of the water against the strong wooden hull of his ship, the Noir de Chevalier or Black Knight.

Father, I will avenge your death, he vowed silently, and I will make sure that bastard Montgomery pays for it.

His mind drifted to the hated memory of finding his father. He'd been riding most of the day to relieve his tension about his situation with Lady Holston, a woman he'd seduced then refused to marry. She was merely a dalliance to pass the time and cure his boredom.

With all that on his mind, he had sought his father's council on the matter. What he did find turned his blood cold. His father was in his study, collapsed over his desk. He did not move. At first, Justin had thought him to be asleep but his chest didn't move. He stepped closer, noticing the broken glass scattered around his father's head, mingling with the congealed pool of blood. His first instinct had been to yell and draw attention. He had tried to feel for a heartbeat but his father's flesh was cold, almost too cold. He had been dead quite a while. Under his father's fingers was a note, explaining why he committed such an atrocious act.

Justin blinked hard, refusing to let the tears flow. He hadn't shed a tear then and he wasn't going to now. Now was the time for revenge.

Daniel Montgomery had been behind it all. Montgomery had preyed upon his father's penchant for gambling and bled his family dry. That's why his father killed himself. He couldn't face the shame of losing it all to gambling.

He scowled. Montgomery had forced him into piracy. At first, it was rather difficult but with an experienced crew, he'd been able to make quite a good living. Now he was at the point where he could help the Colonies gain their freedom from England. Not that he wasn't loyal to the crown to a certain extent, but he believed the people in the New World could do better governing themselves than some foreign country across the ocean.

His eyelids grew heavy as the pain in his shoulder increased. He smiled. Henri was right. This was going to be one interesting trip indeed.

* * * *

"It's about time you got here," Andre Le Croix snarled as he paced around the dank cave that smelled of death and moss. He did not want to be here at this time at night. Someone might see him and it wouldn't do his reputation as the magistrate of St. Pierre any good.

"I came as fast as possible, Le Croix. What else to do you want me to do?" the man answered in surly tones.

"I expect you to be here waiting on me, not the other way around!" he growled, his hand itching to punch this man square in the jaw. Incompetence was something he would not tolerate for long.

"It won't happen again," the man apologized. "Now, where is the log?"

Andre pulled the thick book from his frock coat pocket and turned it over to the thin being in front of him. "This is it," he said, all but throwing it at the waiting hands. "Take a look."

His friend went over to where the moonlight streamed through the open orifice in the ceiling. Beady eyes narrowed and widened as he read the passages. "Ah, there are a lot of ships between here and England and France. Plenty of them ripe for the taking," he said slyly, the corners of the man's thin lips twitching into an evil smile.

Andre nodded. "Aye, they are. Now give it back," he demanded, jerking it out of surprised fingers.

"Wait! How am I to raid the ships when I don't know they're coming?"

Andre shoved it back into his pocket. "No. I do not want anyone questioning anything. What I will do, however," he replied in smug tones as he extracted a cheroot from his pocket, "is send you a message before each shipment. You will memorize the contents then destroy the note. I don't want to take any chances." He lit the end of the thin cigar and drew deeply. This was working perfectly.

The pale face squinted. "Do you think me stupid?"

"Of course," he replied sarcastically. "Your name is Daniel Montgomery, is it not?"