strident bullet piercing the door instead of his skull.
“He didn’t hurt me, Father!” She skirted across the room, her ears ringing from the
blast, and wrestled with her parent for the weapon. “It was the redcoats!”
Dawson relinquished the gun and slammed his fist into his stalwart palm. “I’ll kill
them!”
“They’re already dead,” she snapped, breathless. “Black Hawk killed them.”
“Damn it, that’s my duty!” He glared at James. “I’m her father.”
Slowly James righted himself. “I’m sorry, Dawson.”
He humphed again, then set his wild eyes on Sophia. “What’s for supper, woman?”
She sighed. She buried her father’s pistol inside a copper pot, her head pulsing, her
bones aching.
She looked across the room at James, who offered her an encouraging smile, and she
wished with all her heart that he would stay with her—forever.
Chapter 4
We can burst the bonds which chain us,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And where none shall dare contain us
We can meet again, in thought.
“PARTING,” CHARLOTTE BRONTË
J ames rested on the cool deck of the verandah, his legs stretched and crossed at the
ankles. The thick wood beams supporting the awning supported his back, as well. He
listened to the distant swell of the water, the beach a few chains away from the
abandoned plantation house, and lazily perused the unkempt garden, feral with jungle
growth.
“I suppose even pirates need a break from pillaging.”
He chuckled at her sharp wit. The blood warmed in his veins. She cut through the ferns
and approached the house in an idle manner, her long white dress flirting with the sultry
breeze. Sunlight caressed her dark and wavy locks, the thick tresses highlighted with
touches of gold.
James’s world righted itself as soon as he spotted her. A part of him had still sheltered
misgivings about his plan. However, now that he was with her again, he was sure he was
doing the right thing.
Sophia pulled him toward her with her bewitching brown eyes, and he obeyed her
silent, sensual call. He lifted off the front steps.
“Why have you summoned me here, Black Hawk?”
There was a smudge across her tanned cheek, the shadow of a bruise. He stroked the
healing wound with the pad of his thumb, blood pounding in his head with rabid rage. He
quashed the black memory of the attack with savage dismissal. He would not let it spoil
the intimate moment.
“Was it a summons?” he said gruffly.
She swatted at his distracting fingers, huffing…but he had sensed the wanton shudder
that had wracked her bones. He had missed her, too. He had suffered the pangs of
separation from her for nigh three weeks. The sea had served as his mistress for so long,
but now land beckoned to him, as wel . Sophia beckoned to him.
“The note read: meet me at the old plantation house.” She quirked a slender brow. “It
sounded like a summons to me.”
He smiled. “An invitation.”
James girded his muscles as she pressed her belly into his midriff, weaving her fingers
through his unruly beard, scratching his cheeks like she was greeting a faithful mutt.
“I don’t know if I like the beard. It hides the infamous brigand.”
He sighed at her rough touch and bussed the palm of her hand, blood swelling in his
veins. “And do you like the infamous brigand?”
She smiled coyly.
“Why have you invited me here, Black Hawk?”
She walked around him and scaled the front steps, strolling the portico like the lady of
the house. She observed the classical structure for a moment: the thick stone walls, the
slatted shutters, the shell-and-coral motif that framed the large wood door and arched
windows.
“Do you like the house, Sophia?”
She wrapped her arms around a wide column. The gingerbread fretwork stretched
across the length of the verandah, casting her features in playful shadows.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“It’s mine.”
Sophia looked at him, bemused. “What?”
He
“He didn’t hurt me, Father!” She skirted across the room, her ears ringing from the
blast, and wrestled with her parent for the weapon. “It was the redcoats!”
Dawson relinquished the gun and slammed his fist into his stalwart palm. “I’ll kill
them!”
“They’re already dead,” she snapped, breathless. “Black Hawk killed them.”
“Damn it, that’s my duty!” He glared at James. “I’m her father.”
Slowly James righted himself. “I’m sorry, Dawson.”
He humphed again, then set his wild eyes on Sophia. “What’s for supper, woman?”
She sighed. She buried her father’s pistol inside a copper pot, her head pulsing, her
bones aching.
She looked across the room at James, who offered her an encouraging smile, and she
wished with all her heart that he would stay with her—forever.
Chapter 4
We can burst the bonds which chain us,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And where none shall dare contain us
We can meet again, in thought.
“PARTING,” CHARLOTTE BRONTË
J ames rested on the cool deck of the verandah, his legs stretched and crossed at the
ankles. The thick wood beams supporting the awning supported his back, as well. He
listened to the distant swell of the water, the beach a few chains away from the
abandoned plantation house, and lazily perused the unkempt garden, feral with jungle
growth.
“I suppose even pirates need a break from pillaging.”
He chuckled at her sharp wit. The blood warmed in his veins. She cut through the ferns
and approached the house in an idle manner, her long white dress flirting with the sultry
breeze. Sunlight caressed her dark and wavy locks, the thick tresses highlighted with
touches of gold.
James’s world righted itself as soon as he spotted her. A part of him had still sheltered
misgivings about his plan. However, now that he was with her again, he was sure he was
doing the right thing.
Sophia pulled him toward her with her bewitching brown eyes, and he obeyed her
silent, sensual call. He lifted off the front steps.
“Why have you summoned me here, Black Hawk?”
There was a smudge across her tanned cheek, the shadow of a bruise. He stroked the
healing wound with the pad of his thumb, blood pounding in his head with rabid rage. He
quashed the black memory of the attack with savage dismissal. He would not let it spoil
the intimate moment.
“Was it a summons?” he said gruffly.
She swatted at his distracting fingers, huffing…but he had sensed the wanton shudder
that had wracked her bones. He had missed her, too. He had suffered the pangs of
separation from her for nigh three weeks. The sea had served as his mistress for so long,
but now land beckoned to him, as wel . Sophia beckoned to him.
“The note read: meet me at the old plantation house.” She quirked a slender brow. “It
sounded like a summons to me.”
He smiled. “An invitation.”
James girded his muscles as she pressed her belly into his midriff, weaving her fingers
through his unruly beard, scratching his cheeks like she was greeting a faithful mutt.
“I don’t know if I like the beard. It hides the infamous brigand.”
He sighed at her rough touch and bussed the palm of her hand, blood swelling in his
veins. “And do you like the infamous brigand?”
She smiled coyly.
“Why have you invited me here, Black Hawk?”
She walked around him and scaled the front steps, strolling the portico like the lady of
the house. She observed the classical structure for a moment: the thick stone walls, the
slatted shutters, the shell-and-coral motif that framed the large wood door and arched
windows.
“Do you like the house, Sophia?”
She wrapped her arms around a wide column. The gingerbread fretwork stretched
across the length of the verandah, casting her features in playful shadows.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“It’s mine.”
Sophia looked at him, bemused. “What?”
He
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