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What exactly did the lady pirate mean about “the power of woman”? Weren’t women of her day more powerless than most? As much as Nicole could recall from her college history courses, in those days women weren’t allowed to own property or sign legal documents. They were at the mercy of their husbands or male relatives.
Things had changed a great deal for the better, but she had to admit that one of the things that had hurt most in the whole debacle with Kenneth had been her own feeling of powerlessness. He had held all the cards. When she’d learned of his infidelity and lies, she’d wept and ranted and made demands—all of which he ignored with an unsettling calmness that only made her feel more out of control.
Then he’d fired her, and there’d been nothing she could do. He’d pointed out—also with chilling calm—that as owner of the business he had the right to hire and fire anyone he wished, at any time, for any reason. Besides, he’d added, everyone knew about their affair and that it had ended, and she didn’t want to stay around to become the object of office gossip, did she?
Ha! Too bad she didn’t have the option of turning pirate and making Dr. Ken walk the plank!
I was born Jane Hallowell, daughter of George Hallowell, a successful merchant, owner of a half-dozen fine merchant ships. I was no great beauty as a child, but as I matured I was endowed with a handsomeness that attracted men.
One of these men was a pirate. His name does not matter here, and indeed, I have vowed never to speak it again. He wooed me with pretty presents and exciting tales of his adventures on the seas. He mesmerized me with smooth words and aroused in me feelings I had never experienced before. He stole my virtue—nay, I gave it gladly, knowing that I was in love and one day would soon wed.
What a naive child I was! On the very day when I waited on the docks for my lover to arrive and take me away with him forever, I learned that my father’s fleet of merchant ships had been attacked, and had suffered a grievous loss. My poor father wailed and buried his face in his hands. When I asked who had done this thing, he uttered the very name of my pirate!
The man I had loved, to whom I had given my all, had never loved me. He had used me to learn the secrets of my father’s business—the routes of my father’s ships and their cargos. He had struck like a cobra, taking all, destroying my father.
Destroying me.
Or so he thought. But I would not be destroyed. Not when the creditors came to auction the house and all our belongings. Not when my father took his own life by shooting himself with a pistol. I died, too, then. Jane Hallowell died.
But Passionata was born.
Fascinated, Nicole read on. She learned how Passionata took her father’s last remaining ship and sailed to the pirate’s haven of Tortuga, where she searched among the brothels and bars for other women like herself—desperate women with nothing to lose and a determination to take revenge on the male sex who had used them so cruelly. From one of the women she learned of the deserted atoll where she made her headquarters and began almost sixteen years of seduction and destruction.
Yes, we were women. The so-called weaker sex, without the physical strength of men. But we have something greater. We have the mental stamina that only women have.
And we have the one weapon that can bring all men to their knees. For every man—as long as he is a true man, and not the other kind, who, indeed I have found to be great allies—will succumb to the power of a woman’s sexuality. Since Adam bowed before Eve, men have always been defeated by this power.
I have devoted my life to teaching all women who want to learn how to use this power. A woman who knows the power of her own body will never be at the mercy of a mere man again.
Nicole reread these last words out loud. “‘A woman who knows the power of her own body will never be at the mercy of a mere man again.’” A man like Kenneth, she thought.
She eagerly turned to the next chapter in Passionata’s tale. Adam had told her she’d enjoy the book, but he probably hadn’t anticipated she would take it so much to heart.
For the first time since cleaning out her desk at the surgical center, she began to feel hope. This book—and this vacation on the island where Passionata had made her home—was Nicole’s opportunity to start fresh. She’d devote this time to learning what the lady pirate had to teach her, and she would never be “at the mercy of a mere man again.”
IAN MARSHALL MOVED THROUGH the packed marketplace in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, easing around clots of T-shirt-clad tourists and craning his neck to see into the vendors’ stalls, while at the same time trying not to appear too interested.
“Come and see. I have nice souvenirs for you.” A man with Rastafarian dreadlocks motioned him toward a table of wood carvings.
Ian shook his head and backed away. The vendor picked up a carving and advanced toward him. “You like a little smoke? A little ganja? I have a lighter for you.” He slid down a panel at the bottom of the carving of a man and revealed an oversize penis-shaped lighter.
Ian shook his head and darted away, only to collide with a tableful of straw baskets. “You want to buy a basket?” the woman asked, never missing a beat as she straightened her wares. “Very beautiful. Very useful.”
Ian stopped to consider the baskets. He could probably use something like this, to store food or collect specimens. And he had almost upset her stall. He picked up a large round basket. “How much for this one?” he asked.
She named a price that sounded more than reasonable. He quickly paid her and moved on. He didn’t have much time and he still had a long list of supplies to obtain. He was going to be on the island for three months and had to take with him everything he’d need to survive. The guide at the wharf had told them there was a surplus store near here that could outfit him, and he’d cut through this market thinking it was a short cut.
Bad idea. He couldn’t move two steps without someone imploring him to come inside their stall and “Just look.” And every minute he lingered here was costing him. He’d agreed to be back in two hours to board the merchant ship on which he’d booked passage. They would drop him off on the island in the morning. If he didn’t show up, they wouldn’t hesitate to sail without him, and his work would be delayed.
Up ahead, past the cluster of stalls, he spotted part of a large overhead marquis. Could that be the place he was looking for? Head down, he moved as swiftly as he dared through the crowd, deaf now to the cries of the vendors.
A dark hand reached out and grabbed hold of him. When he tried to shake it off, the fingers tightened around his arm. “You don’t want to pass up what I am offering,” said a honey-smooth voice.
Annoyed, he glanced to his right and found himself staring into a pair of intense black eyes. They belonged to a woman wearing a red and yellow headscarf. Her face was smooth and unlined, but those eyes looked as if they’d seen a lot. “Come in here,” she said, pulling him toward her stall. “I have something for you.”
“No, really, I don’t have time—”
But already they were at the door of the little shack that served as her shop. “You will not regret making time for this.” She reached up to a shelf and chose a small blue glass bottle and pressed it into his hand.
The shack was filled with such bottles, in every color of the rainbow. He stared down at the one she’d handed him. It had no label, but he could see it was three-quarters full of some dark liquid. “What is this?”
She smiled, showing large, yellowed teeth. “It is a love potion. You put some in the drink of a woman you desire and she will be unable to resist you.”
He wondered if it would have worked on Danielle, his most recent ex-girlfriend. She’d certainly found him easy to resist. When he’d suggested she accompany him on this trip, she’d actually laughed in his face. “You’re going off to some deserted island to play Robinson Crusoe for three months? You won’t last a week.” She’d patted him on the shoulder, a patronizing gesture that had enraged him, though he’d kept his emotions in check. “Ian, the only things you know about life you learned from books. You live in your head, not the real world. But I’m out here where real life is happening. I want a man who can be there with me.”
“Let me guess, you’ve already found him,” he’d said.
She didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm. “I’ve found a real man who makes me happy,” she said.
Doctoral students who spent most of their time in research libraries and classrooms didn’t qualify as authentic males, apparently.
One more reason to take this trip. He’d spend the summer living by his wits, relying only on his own labor and strength. He’d prove to Danielle—and to himself—that he had brains and brawn. That he was a real man.
So what would Danielle think if she could see him now, being bullied by shop venders?
He shoved the bottle back at the woman. “I don’t need any love potions,” he said. “There aren’t any women where I’ll be spending my summer.”
She narrowed her eyes, then grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and drew his hand toward her, palm up. She lowered her face until her nose was almost touching his skin and stared. He tried to pull away, but he might as well have been trying to free himself from a bear trap.
The woman raised her head and looked into his eyes. “No, you won’t need a love potion. But I have something else you will need.” She dropped his hand, whirled and chose another bottle from the shelf.
This small flask was purple, and was warm against his skin when she pressed it into his hand.
“What is it?” he asked.
She grinned again. “Drink this and you will be able to make love to any woman for hours. You will stay harder and larger and will give her pleasure like she has never known.”
He almost dropped the bottle, and felt his face grow hot. “Um, I don’t think I’ll need this, either.” No woman had ever complained about his, um, stamina before. “I told you, there aren’t any women where I’m going.”
“You are wrong. There is a woman in your future,” she said. “A seductress whose goal will be to wear you out.” She tapped the bottle with a long, painted nail. “With this, you will never wear out.”
A pair of tourists had entered the shop and were staring at him with open interest, obviously hearing every word the woman was saying. Ian pulled out his wallet, desperate to get rid of her. “How much?” he asked.
“Ten dollar,” she said. “Worth every penny.”
Ten dollars was robbery, but he paid it, anxious to be out of there and on his way. He shoved the bottle deep into his backpack, then ran the rest of the way toward the surplus store.
He told himself it was only his imagination that he could feel the woman’s eyes burning into his back as he escaped.
THE NEXT MORNING OVER breakfast, Adam asked Nicole if she’d had a bad night.
She yawned and stirred sugar into her coffee. “Why do you say that?”
He helped himself to a second bagel and began slathering it with cream cheese. “You don’t look as if you slept well.”
“I was up late reading.”
He smirked. “About Passionata?”
She nodded. “If she did even half the things she said she did, she was amazing.”
“Supposedly it’s all true, though I have my doubts.”
She sipped her coffee and studied him over the rim of her cup. Adam wouldn’t believe anything that wasn’t backed by scientific proof, but he’d thought enough of the book to lend it to her, so there must be some belief under his scepticism.
Not that he looked much like an academic this morning. He hadn’t bothered to shave and wore a stained T-shirt and shorts that were frayed at the hem and faded to the color of putty. She supposed some women might consider him handsome, but she wasn’t one of them. To her, he was just Adam. The one friend she could depend on. And one whose opinion she valued. “So what did you think of Passionata’s theory that women hold the true power in any relationship?”
“You mean all that stuff about using sex to literally bring a man to his knees?” He snorted. “I’ve known guys like that—ones who usually think with their dicks and end up letting some woman lead them around by the balls. But I think they’re the exception, not the rule.” He refilled his coffee cup. “Take me, for instance. I like sex as well as the next guy, but it’s not the be-all and end-all of my existence. Most of the time, it’s not even in the top three of things on my agenda.”
“You could get kicked out of the Real Man Club for saying that.” She reached for a bagel and a jar of jam. “So you’re saying you’d be immune to a woman like Passionata—an accomplished seductress?”
“You can only seduce someone who secretly wants to be seduced. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
Maybe so, but despite his belief otherwise, Nicole suspected Adam had his statistics backward and he was the exception to Passionata’s rule. He was a man absorbed by his work—both teaching and his work-related hobby of hunting for artifacts. Everything else—personal grooming, eating and relationships—took a back seat to these passions.
But other men—men like Kenneth—certainly did seem to base much of their decisions in life on sex: how to get it; who to get it from; how to keep it; how to get more of it. Hadn’t that been the reason Kenneth was sleeping with both her and the topless dancer from Pocono?
“So what’s your interest in Passionata?” she asked.
“What’s the first thing you think of when I say the word pirates?”
“Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom?”
He rolled his eyes. “Real pirates, not movie pirates.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Treasure, I guess.”
“Exactly.” He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “Last summer, after I found Passionata’s autobiography, I started researching. I read everything I could get my hands on about her and her island headquarters. Have you got to the part in the book where she’s captured?
Nicole shook her head. “I fell asleep about a third of the way through.” Not because the book didn’t hold her interest, but because a day of sailing could wear a person out.
“I don’t think I’ll spoil it for you if I tell you she and her crew were trying to board a British merchant vessel when her ship—the Eve—ran onto the rocks and sank. The survivors of the wreck, including Passionata, were picked up by a second British Navy vessel. I’ve been searching through old nautical charts, seaman’s diaries, oceanographic surveys and the like, and I think I’ve located the wreck.”
“And the treasure.” It all fit together now. Not only did Adam have a passion for history, he was a fiend for locating real-life artifacts related to the subjects he taught. He had spent previous summers volunteering with an archeological crew in Mexico, hunting for mastodon bones in the Black Hills and restoring Native American middens in Utah. So far most of his finds had done more to enhance his career than his bank account, but maybe that was about to change. “That’s why you asked me to bring my diving gear,” she said.
He nodded. “We won’t have the time—or the money—to raise the ship and its contents. But I’m hoping we can locate enough items to interest backers who could fund a full-scale expedition next summer.”
“What would something like that be worth?”
“Historically, it’s virtually priceless. Shipwrecks of that antiquity are amazingly rare, and the kinds of artifacts I’d expect to find—weaponry, cutlery, gold and silver coins—would fetch a small fortune from collectors and museums. Easily in the millions. Possibly billions.”
Her eyes widened. Adam laughed. “I’ll give you a share if you help me.”
“Since I’m unemployed at the moment, I can’t say the money won’t come in handy.”
“You won’t have any problem finding another job. Nurses are always in demand.”
“True.” She brushed crumbs from her shirt. “But this time I think I’ll try a hospital. No more private clinics for me.”
“You don’t have to think about it now. Enjoy the summer. If we find the treasure, it’ll be well worth your time. If not, at least you’ll come home with a good story and a tan.”
She was hoping for more than a story and a tan. In between studying Passionata’s teachings and learning how to assert her female power, it might be fun to search for treasure. After all, if an ordinary woman could be powerful, then a rich woman might well be a superpower. “How long before we reach the island?” she asked.
“We’ll stop off in Jamaica this afternoon for supplies, spend a couple days there taking in the sights, then sail for Passionata’s Island. If the weather holds, we’ll be there by the end of the week.”
2
BY THE TIME ADAM GUIDED the yacht into the harbor at Passionata’s Island, Nicole was ready to dive off and swim to shore. The promised couple of days in Jamaica had stretched to a week after Adam ran into friends. For the next seven days he had dragged Nicole from one beach party to barbecue to reggae concert to the next. It had all been fun, but with each passing day Nicole had grown more anxious to reach the island. She was ready for solitude, adventure—and the chance to discover more about the mysterious lady pirate who had also been duped by a lying man yet had gotten her revenge in a big way.
Confessions of a Pirate Queen was still tucked under the pillow in her bunk. Thanks to Adam’s crammed social schedule, she hadn’t had the chance to read further in the book. One more reason she looked forward to reaching the island and being alone.
Except, of course, for Adam. But she knew once he began the work of looking for the wreck, he’d be completely preoccupied. She’d have to remind him to eat, and only the fact that after sunset it was too dark to dive would force him to sleep. No wonder he was still single. No woman would put up with that kind of neglect for months at a time.
“What do you think?” he asked as he wound down the anchor. He’d snugged the yacht into a narrow lagoon shaded by tall coconut palms. Waves broke against a spit of beige sand. In the clear water she could see small fish and crabs. A stiff breeze rattled the palm fronds and softened the heat of the brilliant sun.
“It looks…like paradise.” She turned to him, grinning. “Can we go ashore now?”
“Why not?” He unrolled a flexible aluminum ladder over the side of the boat and secured it, then swung onto it. Nicole scrambled down after him.
“The island is known for the coral reef offshore and the colorful fish,” Adam said as he piloted the dinghy toward shore. “If it wasn’t so remote, it would probably be really popular with divers.”
“I like the idea of us having it to ourselves.” She looked down into the crystal-clear water. It was like looking through a window to the ocean floor. “Are there any dangerous sea creatures I should be aware of?”
“The rays can hurt if they get you with their tails, so steer clear of them,” he said. “And of course, there are sharks.”
“Sharks?” She shuddered and glanced around her.
“They rarely come this close to shore. Just keep an eye out and you’ll be fine.” The dinghy scraped against the bottom and Adam jumped out to drag it onto the beach.
“You do realize if either of us is seriously injured, we’re on our own out here,” she said, the realization of what they could be getting into making her uneasy. The idea of an isolated paradise where one could say or do anything, unrestricted by rules or the opinions of others, was a tempting fantasy. But the reality of being completely on one’s own was more daunting.
“We have a first-aid kit and you’re a nurse,” Adam said. “Anything you can’t handle, we’ll radio for help. But I don’t plan on getting hurt.”
She could have pointed out that no one planned on getting hurt, but what was the use? She could see Adam’s mind was already on the treasure hunt ahead. In fact, he had plunged into the thick growth at the edge of the trees, onto a narrow path that led through a jungle of palms and other trees she couldn’t identify.
“Where are you going?” she asked, running to catch up.
“Passionata’s headquarters were in a stone tower near the center of the island,” he said. “I want to see if I can find it.”
