My Timeswept Heart Read online

  The Sea Witch had sustained minor damage— splintered wood and several torn sails—yet compared to the brig, she had come through unscathed. Black-well stood at the helm, maneuvering his ship swiftly away from floating debris. At his command, men tossed out ropes to those of the brig that had sur­vived. Leaving the helm in the care of the coxswain, Blackwell strode to the rail. They would be given the chance to swear an oath to the captain of the Witch and join her crew. If not, they would be shackled until they could be put ashore at the next port. A merciful act, for any other captain would have made sport of the prisoners. With that consideration, the frigate gained twelve new crew members. Dealing a sharp nod and orders to see wounds cared for, the captain turned away to begin repairs on his ship, to roll back the black sails of war and begin anew.

  Muscles strained as Dane yanked the rope, holding it taut as a seaman secured the winch. Hearing the feminine voice, he glanced up from his work. Lady Renfrew had recently come on deck with an armful of supplies; where she'd found the containers and bot­tles he'd no idea, but now she worked furiously to remove the ball from Mr. Sikes. God's teeth, she was an astonishing female, unflappable, it seemed. And Dane wasn't certain he liked knowing she was more capable than any man. Ann, but she was pure woman, he thought, his greedy gaze drifting down

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  over the gentle swells of her plump breasts concealed in his oldest shirt. A tender emotion he couldn't name stirred in his chest at the mere sight of her, and he realized it mattered not whether she was clad in silks and lace or as she was now, her compact figure dis­guised in men's garments.

  Suddenly the entire ship seemed to go deathly silent when she asked Mr. Potts for a sharp knife.

  "Potts?" Tess wiggled her fingers, then glanced up when the asked-for knife wasn't placed in her hand. Her gaze slipped across the men surrounding her, to Sikes, then back to Potts. Jeez! What was the matter with these guys now? "Come on, Potts, up the blade. Now!"

  Almost smugly Potts handed it over. A witch could not touch cold steel. The second her fingers closed around it everyone within the sight of her collectively sighed. Tess never saw Dane's soft smile as she drew the blade briefly over a lantern flame before she went back to work, absently noting that Sikes seemed a bit more relaxed.

  "Talk to me, Mr. Potts." She needed something to distract her mind as she dug out the bullet. "How about telling me where you were headed before I was rescued?" Sikes's breath hissed through his teeth as she wiggled the knife. "Sorry," she muttered, then nodded to Potts to give the seaman more rum.

  "We was fightin' a fierce storm, miss," Sikes mum­bled, watching her work.

  "Quit flapping your jibs, buster. You're wounded, remember."

  Sikes grinned weakly. Cheeky wench, he thought, admiring her spunk.

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  Tess felt the blade tip scrape metal. With the tweez­ers from her manicure kit, she plucked the soft metal ball from his shoulder, dropping it into Potts's out­stretched hand. Her stomach rolled at the gush of blood, and she swiftly covered the wound.

  "Aye, twas the worst I've seen," Potts said, "Not like a hurricane, mind you. But mean, tossin' the Witch like a twig, m'lady, near a wall of black thun­der clouds."

  Her movements stilled, but she didn't take her eyes from her work as she held pressure to the wound. She swallowed thickly. "Say again?" The muscles in her shoulders tightened.

  "I spotted it first," a young man said smugly, hun­kering down opposite her.

  Potts lips twisted with condescension. "You're the crow, Tuffy! Yer supposed to sight anythin' first."

  "You was ascared as the rest!" Tuffy shot back.

  "Mind your tongue, boy!" Potts snarled, and the crow was instantly contrite.

  "Gentlemen, please!" Tess interrupted sharply, every nerve singing as she braced herself to stitch hu­man flesh. Her head throbbed with questions she couldn't ask. The wall. The wall. The image kept flashing in her head. Tess blinked rapidly, biting her lip as she took the last stitch, then snipped the thread and spread the wound with clear bacitracin. Nodding slowly when Potts offered to bind the wound, she twisted to tend the next sailor.

  "Keep going, Mr. Potts," she said shakily.

  "I'll be speakin' the truth, m'lady," he began in a conspiratorial whisper, unaware of her torment. "A mighty ship, white as an angel's wing and as swift as

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  any afore her, stern one moment, port the next. Give me the willies, it did. Never seen anythin' so grand!" The Nassau Queen, Tess thought, and felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck. "What—ah," she swallowed. "What did you mean by a wall of thunderclouds?"

  Finished, Potts leaned closer, his stomach tighten­ing at the frightening memory. "This great ship was far off our stern, heading right at us. Then suddenly," he waved dramatically, "she appears at port, moving away.'*'

  "She asked about the wall, Mr. Potts," someone said.

  "I know, I'm gettin' tan that!" he snapped, then turned a gentle smile to Lady Renfrew, in his glory to be the center of her attention. "The captain called for reports from Tuff here." He tossed a thumb at the boy. "And when we looked again the ship had van­ished behind this movin' curtain of mist."

  "We've all seen fog on the sea, Potts," Sikes added weakly. "An' that 'tweren't it!"

  Several men had come up close, nodding agree­ment. "Aye, a fog don' move like snakes!"

  Despite the heat Tess felt goose bumps prick the skin of her arms and neck as she rose unsteadily to her feet. In a trance she remembered the clear skies when she jumped ship. And how frightened she'd been to be heading toward the blanket of swirling mist. Vaguely she recalled hearing the clap of thun­der, seeing the jagged spark of lightning. Had the storm these men experienced been on the other side of the dark partition? Her heart clenched painfully. Did I pass through it or under it? And into what? Her

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  body trembled hard, her hands shaking as wild thoughts collided in her brain.

  Tess staggered to the rail, her knuckles going white with her fierce grip. Everything rushed at her in a tidal wave of facts. Yes, they were facts now. The clothes, the furniture. The archaic beliefs, the crude weapons, and dear God, the death. In the lantern-lit darkness Richmond chittered happily in the waters below, and Tess cried out in despair.

  "Why have you taken me here, Richmond? Why?" she demanded, unaware she'd spoken aloud. "Whose time have you dumped me in?" She slapped a hand over her mouth, biting the heel in an effort to hold back the boiling scream. Say it, her mind begged. Face the truth. Squeezing her eyes shut, Tess allowed the thought to take form. There was no other expla­nation than the one she'd avoided. The black wall had been a doorway.

  Into the past.

  "Lady Renfrew?"

  She spun about, her gaze meeting those startling green eyes.

  "You," she accused, stumbling backwards. "You're a pirate! A damned pirate, of all things."

  He stiffened, eyes paling to white frost. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Don't look so insulted, Blackwell. You know what you are," she spat, gun metal gray eyes raking him in disgust.

  She was exhausted, Dane thought sympathetically, on the verge of collapse. He could almost see the rest­less energy surging through her. Nearly explosive, as if waiting for something to spark the fuse.

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  I can't handle this, she thought, her gaze careening nervously over the ship. I can't! Tess raced to the companionway, passing Duncan, his arms laden with bandages and ointments. She never saw him, stum­bling over the raised threshold. She skidded into the cabin, tearing clothes from her body as she moved toward the bathroom. The hip bath was filled with warm water, and somewhere beyond her turmoil she knew this was Duncan's thoughtfulness. She bent over and dunked her head into the water, staying that way until she had no more breath to hold. She straightened, flinging her head back and letting the warm water splash the walls and cascade down her body. The odor of death clung to her. Trembling vio­lently, she stepped into the tub, making
record time with soaping her hair. She scrubbed vigorously, then scrubbed some more. Her skin burned when she stepped from the bath and wrapped in a towel. It changed nothing.

  "I've got to get back," she mumbled, shoulders hunched as she anxiously paced the cabin. Two hun­dred years backwards. No longer did she deny the possibility. Everything made too much sense now. Tess suddenly had the overwhelming need to connect with something from her time and went to her yellow duffle. With jerky movements she pulled on a soft black satin chemise and short kimono robe. She stared at the yellow bag. My past, she thought, then she flung the satchel across the room. It smacked the wall, dropping to the floor with a solid chunk. Tess stood in the center of the lavish cabin, motionless, staring at nothing. Then with a strangled moan, she sank to the floor to

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  her knees.

  "I don't belong here," she cried, wrapping her arms across her middle. Tears streamed down her cheeks, splashing on her bare knees. "I don't."

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  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dane stared after her. The agony he'd seen in those eyes made his heart drop to his gullet. Sweet Christ, had the day's events snapped her deranged mind? Her screaming at the dolphin was certainly testimony to her unbalanced state. Please, God, he silently begged, don't let that be the case. He didn't want her to be in­sane. He wanted her whole, logical.

  And that was what was so confusing, for the cour­age and ingenuity she'd displayed today were un­matched in any female he'd met before her. He looked up at the mast — still unable to comprehend exactly how she'd managed to get aboard the brig—then glanced around at the men lying on the deck, treated wounds cleanly bandaged, some even sedated. The la­dy's compassion was unbounding, especially to men who had treated her so poorly.

  "Captain?" Dane's eyes shifted to the boatswain. "Is the lady unwell?"

  Unwell? Dane nearly laughed at the suggestion. The lady's emotional stability was definitely under ques­tion.

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  "She is simply tired," the captain excused, deciding he'd give her a moment to compose herself. He rubbed the back of his neck. "What did you discuss, Mr. Potts?" Dane needed to know.

  Potts hesitantly relayed the conversation, wonder­ing also what he'd said to cause her to flee.

  Dane rapped softly on his cabin door. No response. Leaning closer to the wood, he could hear no sounds coming from within* and a sudden panic swept through him. Was she even in there? Was she perhaps wandering belowdecks? Or had she—jumped over­board? He thrust open the door, his gaze searching the dimly lit cabin. He started to step back outside when a faint sound caught his attention. His brows furrowed as he tried to determine the source.

  "I don't belong! I don't belong!" The whispered words knifed him the instant before he saw her, sitting back on her heels, clenched fists thumping her thighs. He could scarcely make out her huddled form in the darkened cabin and could see nothing of her face. Black hair draped over her shoulders, grazing the floor.

  She didn't notice his cautious approach.

  Her shoulders shook, and he heard her sniffle. God's teeth, she was crying! The thought jolted him to his boots. She hadn't spent a single tear since she'd been rescued. Ahh, lass, I wish I could help you, he thought, and was startled when she threw back her head and sobbed helplessly.

  "I want to go home! I must!"

  "Nay!" he said instinctively.

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  Her head jerked around at the denial, and Tess leapt to her feet. "Leave me alone, please!" she begged, swiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  Dane's gaze was immediately riveted to the display of unusually muscled legs, bare beyond the short black satin—whatever that was. He swallowed. God, the limbs were magnificent!

  "Please, Blackwell! Go away!" she cried brokenly.

  He forced himself to lift his gaze. "Lady Renfrew—"

  "Don't call me that!" she shouted, suddenly up in his face. "I'm Tess. Do you hear me? Tess! For God's sake, at least let me be what I am!"

  She swayed weakly, and he grasped her shoulders. "Calm yourself, lass. You're merely exhausted."

  Tess froze for a moment, staring at him. A peculiar giggle bubbled in her throat and came out in choked spurts. Then it burst, and she laughed hard, the merry sound twisting into hysterical cackles.

  "Exhausted?" she shrieked, gasping for breath and despite her laughing the tears came in a gush. "Christ, I wish it were that simple!" Her trembling fingers curled in the folds of his shirt. "I don't belong here, Blackwell," she cried desperately, jerking him down in her face as if it would make him understand. "This isn't my time." His frown deepened. "Don't you see? Richmond brought me through the wall. To your time. I must go home. I belong in the future!"

  "Nay!" He shook her, the thought of her going any­where driving him to tighten his grip. "Please, m'lady. Do not speak this nonsense!" It tore at his vitals to see her this distraught. "This is the eighteenth century! You are Lady Tess Renfrew, daughter of a noble Scots­man!"

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  "No! I'm a nobody! A nobody!" She thrashed, fists striking out and connecting with his ribs. "Oh, God! I've traveled back in time, Blackwell! No one knows I'm here! No one cares!"

  Abruptly Dane slammed her against him, pale eyes demanding she hear his words. "Listen to me, woman! We know*you're here, and there are over a hundred men on this ship whose admiration and respect you've gained this night! They care what happens to you!" Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks, and the sight sliced him in two.

  "You bastard!" she snarled. "Don't start lying to me now!" then kicked him in the shin and managed to sock him in the chest.

  " Tis not lie!" Dane felt he'd ensnared a hurricane.

  "I don't believe you!" She twisted wildly, and Dane wrapped his arms around her, burying a hand in her hair when she tried to get free.

  "Cease, Tess! For God's sake. Cease! This fight will do no good!" He feared she had finally gone over the edge. " 'Twill be fine soon, lass. I swear it!"

  "No! It's not fine! It will never be fine again!" Her fists thumped his back. "You don't understand! How can—oh, let me go!" She pushed at him and he tight­ened his hold. "Please, God. I can't handle this. I don't want to!"

  She pressed her forehead to his chest, her battered emotions dissolving in the sea of tears, hopeless sobs raking her slender body. Tess cried for herself, some­thing she hadn't indulged in since she was a small child, abandoned in a dingy hotel room at the age of four. The sensation wasn't much different now.

  Her tears soaked his shirt, never ceasing, and Dane's

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  chest constricted at the agonized sound. The heat of her lithe body scorched through his damp clothing, and he fought the nearly ungodly hunger merely touching her evoked in him. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the sudden image of those gorgeous bare legs from his mind.

  "Oh, I just want to die," she sobbed.

  He yanked on a handful of hair, jerking her head back. "Do-not-even—think—it!" he growled in a dangerous voice, eyes bright. "Promise me now, woman! Promise me you'll not harm yourself!"

  His gaze searched her face, waiting for her answer, and Dane felt a fear he'd never experienced before. The passing seconds thumped with the beat of his heart. Then suddenly he crushed her mouth beneath his, his lips demanding her promise of life, drinking in her sor­row. She was still crying.

  This man is all I know, Tess thought. I've nothing left. Alone and defeated, she felt the uncontrollable need to cling to him. His musky scent filled her being, intoxicating her. A primal craving she'd never known rocked her to her bare feet when his warm tongue pushed between her lips. She snared it, answering the blaze, yanking the shirt from his trousers and slipping her hands beneath.

  "Nay, lass," Dane murmured against her lips. He strove for control, attempting to extract himself, yet his mouth still hovered close.

  "Yes," she whispered shakily, holding tight. Her hands molded up his back, stroking damp, ropey mus­cles, driving him mad with desire
. She caressed the tight skin of Ms ribs, small hands moving urgently up over his broad chest, then fumbling with the wooden

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  buttons of his shirt.

  Dane ground his teeth, painfully aware of how much he wanted this woman. He sensed her agony as if it were a piece of his soul, a deep unwelcome ache that spilled over into her jerky movements. He gazed long­ingly into those storm-cloud eyes, dark, turbulent— lonely. She was a lady much too vulnerable for this, he tried to reason as her ripe curves pressed so intimately to his long body. Dane made a valiant effort to resist.

  "Ahh, lass. Do not do this," he rasped deeply when her lips ground down the length of his throat. "I beg you. I cannot — "

  Buttons sprang, shooting across the cabin in rapid succession as she ripped open his shirt, her lips and tongue hurriedly devouring every inch of flesh she ex­posed. Between her thighs grew warm and damp, tin­gling with excitement as she peeled the fabric off his shoulders, catching it roughly on his forearms. She could feel his arousal stiffening against her. The power thrilled her. He was ready. A typhoon unleashed itself inside her, her body on fire with the ecstasy only his touch could bring. Tess swiftly shrugged out of her robe, the satin pooling on the floor around her feet be­fore her hands raked over thick biceps, across the wide expanse of his chest, satisfying her need to feel the hard bronzed skin. Warm, solid. Dangerous.

  His breath quickened.

  Dane sagged heavily against the edge of the desk, • claiming her mouth as he pulled her tightly between his thighs, shaking with the force of her touch. He was about to shatter with the effort to restrain his body's need. It wasn't working. He was burning, rock hard, and throbbing-for her. Ahh, God, but the woman

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  was a blessed wildcat, he thought, her lips clinging to

  his skin, the pressure demanding, her tongue licking

  erotic circles around his nipples. His knees suddenly