Bring It Close Read Online Free PDF Page B

Desperately.
    “There are official papers waiting for you in Virginia. Your father’s lawyer holds them in Williamsburg. He will legally cede the land to me when you sign them.”
    Sobering, Jesamiah wiped his left hand beneath his nose, displaying the tattooed letters of Tiola’s name arrayed across his knuckles. “Let me get this right: you want me to come to Virginia to sign some bloody papers so you can get the estate – and no doubt immediately sell it?”
    Her throat was aching, she could feel the uncomfortable bruising every time she swallowed, all the same she lifted her head high and stated, “Sell it. Yes.”
    Striding to the cabin door Jesamiah flung it wide; “I’ll ask you politely t’leave m’ship.” As often, when aboard or agitated, Jesamiah lapsed into a seaman’s vernacular: “You ‘ave the choice to do so under y’own sail or I’ll ‘ave Finch ‘aul you off. I ain’t p’tic’lar. You will not get one penny piece from me. Even do you put a noose roun’ me neck and ‘ang me, you will not get a penny.”
    Obstinate, she plumped herself down on the chair beside his desk. Folded her arms. “I will not leave here, Jesamiah. By right of marriage la Sorenta is mine. I want it.”
    Nostrils flaring, Jesamiah raised one hand and tapping each finger counted off a list of objections.
    “One, I have no desire to sail to Virginia. Two, I cannot sail without approval granted by Governor Rogers’ office. Three…” He paused. Three. He strolled to her side, put both hands on the chair arms and leant forward, his face close to hers. To her credit, she did not flinch away. He smelt of rum, wet hemp, tar and masculine sweat. He needed a shave: bristles sprawling above the black hairs of the short-trimmed beard that framed his jawline, were making his moustache ragged.
    “Three,” he repeated slowly. “Phillipe was never my brother. He was a bastard foisted on my father by the woman who spawned him. He has never had legal claim to that tobacco plantation.” He paused, whispered, “And therefore, darlin’, nor do you.”
    Alicia was a survivor. A Port Royal whore who had dragged herself from the gutter to become wife, and widow, to two men in succession. The husbands and children she could manage without. Her home, or more accurately, the wealth its sale would generate, she could not.
    Clamping her nails into his wrist she removed one of his arms from the chair and with her other hand pushed him aside. “One,” she retaliated as she stood up, “you will not be permitting your little bedmate to scamper around Bath Town unprotected because, as you are well aware, Bath Town is where Edward Teach has decided to anchor his flatulent backside. He does not treat women well and is attracted to a pretty-faced wench. For all I dislike her, if your doxie steps within range of his pizzle she will be used and dumped dead into the sea faster than you can get a hard cock. So you will be wanting to go after her. Two.” She reached into the linen poke she had left with her bonnet, handed Jesamiah a folded and sealed parchment. “I took the liberty of asking Captain Jennings to write you a Letter of Marque. He was more than willing to grant it when I told him you were planning on going pirate hunting.”
    Before Jesamiah could protest that he had no intention of doing anything of the sort, she raised a hand for his silence. “Three. Among those papers concerning the estate and waiting in Williamsburg to be signed over to me, is a sealed letter from your father addressed to you. It reads: ‘To be given to my son, Jesamiah Mereno, upon the death of Phillipe Mereno.’ Your birth name was Mereno, I therefore take it that this intriguing document is for you. I wonder if the contents have aught to do with that scandalous statement you have just made about Phillipe?”
    “If it is for me,” Jesamiah snapped irritably, “why did you not bring the damn thing with you?”
    To his annoyance, despite thinking he