Part 18 (1/2)
”I think the witch and I understand each other,” Lock observed as he walked through the village, instructing slaves and freewomen alike. He turned to Sparrow. ”Our wagon is still intact. Take one of the horses and bring it here.”
Before she left, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. ”I think you're wonderful.”
He scowled, but his eyes reflected his pleasure. ”Enough of that. There's work to do, girl.”
As Sparrow hurried to her horse, she glanced over her shoulder at Lock. He stood, so tall and strong, his kinky two-tone hair snapping in the autumn wind, as he shouted orders. Sparrow glimpsed the powerful s.h.i.+p's Captain he must have been. Again she wondered if he'd be happy living a simple life with her.
Sparrow paused in sawing wood and used her hand to s.h.i.+eld her eyes from the sun as she stared at Lock who helped raise the walls of a new cottage. Several of the slaves as well as the blacksmith were helping, yet no matter who Lock stood with, he was noticeable. His height, his build, his hair, everything about him exuded pure masculine beauty.
Sparrow resumed sawing then loaded the wood into a wagon which Shea-Ann drove across the square.
It had only been three days since the storm, but already the village had improved, with most of the results due to Lock. He was a natural leader, and the people followed him, slave band on his arm and all. His knowledge about building as well as his dedication greatly impressed Sparrow, and his diligence inspired a group of people who, days ago, had nearly succ.u.mbed to hopelessness.
At dusk, Sparrow stood by the well in the center of town and rolled her aching shoulders. She felt a hand on the back of her neck and glanced at Lock. She smiled, relaxing as his fingers ma.s.saged her sore back.
”I think everything is going well,” she remarked.
He glanced around the darkening village, at the random fires with people lounging around them, tired after another day of hard work. ”Not a bad crew. I'd have most of them on any vessel of mine.”
She laughed. ”We're not at sea, Captain.”
”It'll be a while before anyone will call me that again.”
She looked at him and took his hand. She noticed a long cut running from the back of his wrist between his two middle fingers. Wetting her sleeve, she cleaned off the blood, then raised his hand to her lips and kissed it.
He took her face in his hands, her thumbs caressing her soft cheeks, and whispered, ”You've done something to me, girl.”
”I haven't done anything.”
”Before you, I never cared about anything. I never thought I could.”
”You weren't given the chance. Your own mother-”
”I don't want to talk about her. She doesn't exist anymore.”
”Why don't we go to sleep? You must be tired. I don't think you've slept at all since the storm.”
”There's too much to do.”
Sparrow took his hand and tugged him to one of the fires where Shea-Ann and several women slept. Sparrow spread a blanket on the ground. She lay with her head on Lock's chest, one hand entangled in his hair.
”Lock?” she whispered. When he didn't reply, she s.h.i.+fted her face to look at him and smiled. He was already asleep. She kissed him lightly, so as not to wake him and said, ”I love you.”
About a week after the storm, Sparrow and Shea-Ann were feeding the chickens behind their newly-built barn while Lock chopped firewood nearby. Sparrow cast longing glances at his bare, dirt-streaked chest, perspiration gleaming beneath the mat of curling dark hair.
”I can't believe the village is almost back to normal,” Shea-Ann said. ”The Yak did well.”
”You weren't bad yourself, witch,” Lock called, splitting a log and tossing the pieces into a nearby pile.
”If it weren't for you, I'm not sure what we'd have done,” Sparrow told him.
”You'd have managed. You did well before I got here, and would do just as well without me.”
”True,” Sparrow tossed him a coquettish look, ”but I'd miss you none the less.”
”So when you take her away, what are your intentions, boy?” Shea-Ann demanded.
Lock stopped his ax in mid-swing and approached the women. ”How's that your business?”
”I think of Sparrow as a daughter. She is my business. She's expressed her love for you, but I've yet to hear you admit the same.”
Lock gave a humorless laugh and turned back to the chopping block.
”Walking away again, are you?” Shea-Ann taunted.
”Shea-Ann, what's between me and Lock is our concern, no one else's,” Sparrow said, not wanting to exclude her old nanny, but feeling she must defend Lock. She understood his hesitation to admit love for anyone or anything.
”I know I should keep my place, Sparrow, but before you make a mistake, I want you to think carefully. Does he want to use you until the novelty wears off? What will he do about any offspring? What sort of future will you have?”
”Do you think I'd dump her off without a care?” Lock's pale eyes gleamed with fury as he stalked back to the nanny, his hands gripping the ax a bit too tightly for Sparrow's taste.
Shea-Ann must have felt the same, for she stepped back several paces, but kept her gaze fixed on the pirate as she said, ”All I know is Sparrow saved your skin and has fallen in love with you. She's given up everything for you, and you haven't even mentioned standing by her except to drag her with you when you go.”
Lock's gaze darted from Shea-Ann to Sparrow, his expression torn between anger and desperation. ”I can't very well leave her here. You know what the sentence will be if the law in Begonia discovers I've gone.”
”So at least you can feel guilt!” the old healer snapped.
”Shea-Ann!” Sparrow said. ”Keep silent!”
”I don't feel guilt!”
Sparrow held his eyes. ”You don't?”
”No.”
”Then what do you feel?” Shea-Ann asked in a softer tone.
”I'm taking her because I want her with me.”
”So you don't care a bit for her, only for yourself.” Shea-Ann shook her head. ”Typical man. Not even a mention of marrying her.”
”I don't need you to suggest marriage to Sparrow, hag! You think I haven't wanted to marry her for months?”
Sparrow's eyes widened, and she felt her own anger rising. ”Then why haven't you asked?”