Chapter Seven
Once the nun had seen all she wanted in the strange mirror, she wrapped it in an old cloth and tucked it back into her satchel. He chose that moment to pretend to awaken, stretching and yawning then opening his eyes fully.
She bustled to his bedside. “Bonjour, Capitaine. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, Sister, thanks to your excellent…care.”
She turned away, and a blush spread over her cheeks.
James gathered the bedclothes around his waist and sat up, determined to spend the morning seated in a chair rather than lying helpless in bed for even one more minute. Grabbing the back of the heavy chair where Sister Bertilde had passed so many hours, he used it for support, making his way slowly to the table.
He shook off her attempt to help him, unwilling to admit how weak he felt. The damned fever had robbed his limbs of all strength. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to remain upright for even those few steps. Sinking heavily into the chair the nun had used for her odd ritual, he bade her call for breakfast.
When Sprague knocked, saying he’d brought the food, the captain insisted she open the door so he could speak with the man.
“’Tis good to see ye up and around, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sprague. But tell me – how is the Queen Anne?”
He peppered his first mate with questions, inquiring as to their position at sea and the welfare of the rest of the crew. Sprague let it slip he’d led the men to believe Teach had been in the grip of another sort of fever entirely. One that could only be treated by several days and nights locked in a room with the ship’s sole female passenger.
James glanced at the nun and was shocked to see her nodding in agreement.
“’‘Twas as much her doin’ as mine,” Sprague explained. “I had to concoct some sorta tale. She’s the one what decided the crew mustn’t know ye were ill, fer fear they’d get a notion ta take o’er the ship. Right smart, she is. Begging yer pardon, Sister,” he added.
“You needn’t apologize for complimenting my intelligence, Mr. Sprague. And thank you.”
It was clear Sister Bertilde had won the respect of his first mate over the last few days.
“She cared fer ye hour after hour, with no thought ta her own risk,” Sprague went on. “Wouldn’ let me in, or anyone else fer that matter, ta keep us all from fallin’ prey ta the deadly fever. She had all manner of noxious herbs and weeds. Cooked ’em into a tea o’ sorts. Fed it to ye sip by sip with yer head cradled in ’er arms like a babe. I saw ye meself from the doorway one morn, thrashin’ and moanin’ then settlin’ down ta rest after a dose of ’er brew.”
She may have cradled his head against her breasts, but James thought it unlikely she’d been thinking of him as a baby. He regarded the nun thoughtfully. “It seems I owe you my life, Sister Bertilde.”
“Pay it no mind, Capitaine. I was grateful for the opportunity to repay you for my passage on your ship. It was Le Bon Dieu who saved your life. In His wisdom, He placed me here, along with my supply of herbal remedies.”
As the day went on, James felt his strength returning. He dressed while the nun modestly turned her back to him, then he walked about the cabin. She insisted he lie down again after their midday meal, topping it off by handing him a tankard brimming with a generous portion of rum. It had a foul taste, and he suspected she had secretly managed to slip a measure of her potion into the cup, hoping to disguise it with the liquor.
His last thought before falling once again into a deep sleep was that for one who professed to be an innocent nun, she had a devious mind.
He next opened his eyes to find darkness had fallen. The nun had lit a candle on the table and was again staring into the metal disc.
Who was she? And why had she chosen to stow away aboardhisship? From what he’d seen, she hadn’t taken advantage of his illness to rifle through his possessions, looking for valuables to steal. Whenever he woke, if she wasn’t staring into that mirror, she was by his side with her head buried in one of his books.
He wondered if she’d been put in place by one of the marauders who sailed the seas looking for ships to plunder. But his brain was still fogged by the fever, and he could think of no advantage they’d gain smuggling a woman dressed as a nun onto his ship.
Unless they’d paid her to make him ill. He remembered all too well the foul taste of her potion. Had she been poisoning him instead of healing? If he were dead or deathly ill, it would be easier for pirates to take over the ship.
Feigning sleep, he watched her every move, searching for answers.
***
Though she’d scorned it in the past, Mercy couldn’t keep away from Sairy’s scrying mirror and the secrets it revealed. At first, when she’d been locked in the cabin with the captain, she’d turned to it hoping to find some comfort in the scenes unveiled on its surface. Once she became convinced that, unlike her parents, this patient would survive his illness, she took advantage of his periods of rest to seek other answers in its depths.
After so many years, last night the mirror had finally revealed the identity of the faceless stranger who had been making love to her in its reflection, the man destined to take her virginity. It was Captain Teach, once again vigorous and virile, who drew her into his arms.
She glanced at the bed, assuring herself he was still asleep, then unwrapped the mirror and laid it on the table. In its smoky depths, she watched, entranced, as he taught her the ways of love. Touching her everywhere, first with his hands then with his lips. Fire built in her belly as longing turned into craving. She heard herself cry out his name as she watched him take her to ecstasy.
“Oh, God…James!”