The Spiteful Vixen Read online

  The Spiteful Vixen

  Erika Phillips

  Barbados 1724

  Chapter One

  There was a flounce of petticoats as she entered the room, “I just don’t understand why I must go,” Olivia Clairmond protested again to her father and punctuated it with a large pout. Her dark curls bounced as she gruffly sat down in her father’s study and looked upon him imploringly with her dark blue eyes.

  Edward Clairmond patiently listened as his daughter set forth her rationale as to why she should most certainly not have to travel to England. After she finished her rant, Edward took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose before he carefully chose his words. “You need to go because I have entertained your flights of fancy far too long. You need to go because you are nineteen and have yet to have a proper introduction into society.”

  He paused a moment, placing his spectacles back on his nose and looking at her pointedly, “And you need to go because I am to be remarried, and Agatha would like to be the only female in the household while she becomes adjusted to life on the plantation.”

  Olivia did not miss the sound of finality in the last statement, but nonetheless continued, “I promise I wouldn’t interfere, I would--”

  “Olivia Rose, this will not be discussed any further. I have made my decision,” Edward stroked his graying goatee and then rose from his desk, as to indicate that they were done speaking on the topic. “You will leave on the next ship bound for England. Your aunt is expecting you within a month. That should give you a week to get your things in order. It will give me some piece of mind to know that you are traveling with the sugar cane and that George Wainwright will accompany you,” Edward smiled knowingly, thinking of his plans for them. He then walked around the side of his desk and put his arm around Olivia, “And you may, of course, take Daisy.”

  Though Olivia took heart that Daisy would be accompanying her, it didn’t make the trip sound any more desirable. Daisy was Olivia’s gift on her seventh birthday. Daisy was twelve at the time, so the girls had practically grown up together. Olivia viewed Daisy as more of a friend and confidante than her slave, but she couldn’t imagine daily life without her either. There were far too many corsets to cinch and too much of her thick hair to curl and pile upon her head to manage without Daisy.

  Olivia tried to envision her life away from the only home she had known her whole life. She was born in Barbados, the only child of the wealthiest sugar cane plantation owner. Her mother had died in childbirth and Olivia had grown up wild and free from social expectations. She was given some latitude because she was motherless, and some because she was the daughter of the most powerful man on the island. Olivia was allowed to climb trees, play in the sand, and learn to swim. She was also highly educated, speaking English, French, and Latin. She was prepared for the adventure of the open sea, but feared the strict and stuffy society in England with Aunt Alexandra.

  The week between Olivia’s conversation with her father and the ship’s departure flew by, and her trunks were being carted to the port before she was ready. She attended to the final touches of her adornment and then left her childhood home behind.

  ********

  Olivia eyed the merchant ship with a mixture of awe and derision. She knew it would be her home for at least the next two months, and hoped that they would be adventure-filled rather than monotonous and boring.

  As she approached the ship, she saw George giving orders to the crew. Olivia tried to not roll her eyes as she watched him attempting to wield power that he clearly did not possess. “Good day, Mr. Wainwright. Or should I say, Captain Wainwright?” she added trying to expel the mocking tone from her voice.

  “Good day, Miss Clairmond,” George said, squinting through the sun at her. “No formality needed here, we are to be in rather close quarters for the next many weeks and I would hate for you to think of me as your superior,” he said arrogantly.

  “Yes, that would be unfortunate,” Olivia said trying to mask her sarcasm. “What is our weather looking like, Mr. Wainwright? Do we have good auspices for travel?” she added, trying to change the subject.

  “Yes, we will have a very advantageous start to our journey, beyond that--well, I am sure there will be at least a few stormy days and nights. Yet, in the end I feel everything will land as it should,” George said the last part almost to himself, admiring her womanly figure.

  “Yes, well, that is to be expected, I would imagine,” Olivia added. Though she had grown up on and around ships, she had never made the Atlantic crossing.

  “Of course, but nothing The Porpoise can’t handle,” he added, confidently looking at the ship with admiration. “Do not fear, Miss Clairmond, she has weathered several crossings and is as sturdy as they come.” Just then he noticed a barrel being rolled aboard by one of the crew, “Excuse me, Miss Clairmond,” he made a quick bow and turned on his heel, “Jenkins! What are you bloody doing with that?!”

  Olivia laughed to herself, and thought the idea of being trapped on a voyage with George seemed tedious, perhaps he would supply some much-needed entertainment in order to pass the time. This thought comforted her as she lingered on shore as long as she was permitted.

  About twenty minutes later, her father arrived on the deck. Though he was resolute in his decision, he openly struggled in seeing Olivia actually depart. He held her for a few moments and told her to respect the crew, but not to forget who her father is or what he is capable of--this thought gave her an odd sense of empowerment. Edward reminded his daughter to make sure that she listened to her Aunt Alexandra when she arrived in England, as she would help to refine her and make her a suitable wife.

  “I love you, Father. I will miss you,” Olivia said, staying true to her plan to focus on the adventurous side of the journey, rather than the inevitability of it.

  “I will miss you too, my daughter. Please send word as soon as you are able. I love you, Olivia. Safe travels,” he said, quickly breaking away from her embrace to mask the tears beginning to cloud his wrinkly eyes.

  She stood stoically on the deck as they departed. Olivia’s dark blue eyes looked on to the only home she had ever known and watched in fascination as it became smaller and more distant with each crashing wave. A sense of excitement and temporary freedom masked her fears as The Porpoise set out onto the open sea.

  Chapter Two

  As with anything new one encounters, one tries to find harmony and routine. Olivia did just that falling more easily than expected into her new lifestyle. Daisy would awaken her after daybreak and assist her in dressing (tightening her corsets, washing her stockings as best she could, adorning her hair with ornamentation, etc.). Once Olivia was prepped for the day she would emerge from her cabin and walk the deck a bit before taking her tea and breakfast. She was becoming a bit bored with the lack of menu options, but the food was always well-prepared and she was staying healthy, which was of vital importance.

  After her breakfast, Olivia would again stroll along the deck, usually accompanied by George Wainwright. He would update her on their progress and any pieces of interest (if there were any dolphins spotted, if they had gained or lost time, how the supplies were holding up, etc.). Though Olivia was thrilled that she was respected enough for George to share these details, she was bored to tears every time she spoke with him. He had a tendency, once the updates were completed, to share any story which made him look the hero. Did I tell you of the way I was able to extend our resources? Did I mention that I speak two languages fluently--both English and French? Did you hear that I brought The Lilliana in safely during a horrible squall?

  Frequently at the end of the story, Olivia would feign such shock as to see if she could get George to tell the whole story again, or to contin
ue on to a second story of his feats. She had begun to make a bit of a game of it--four stories in a row lauding the venerable, infallible George Wainwright was the current record. Today, she would see if she could manipulate him into telling five.

  Just as she was half-listening to him tell how he practically revolutionized the way sugarcane was shipped, a large boom was heard followed by the entire ship jolting beneath them. George had a look of panic, “Quickly, Miss Clairmond, please return to your room until I can investigate the situation.”

  She looked thankful for the direction, but was still in a daze as The Porpoise again shook beneath her feet. A moment later, the next thunderous wave of sound and explosions jerked her back to reality and she fled as quickly as her satin slippers and several layers of petticoats could carry her.

  When she arrived at her cabin, she quickly bolted the door behind her and started to move things in front of the only entrance. She then realized that if she should need to flee the room because of a leak or some other reason, having all her possessions in front of the only exit might prove to be a terrible idea. Olivia slowly removed the few items she was able to use to barricade the door.

  The pounding was ear-splittingly loud. There were constant screeching noises and sounds of heavy objects hitting the water. The sides of the ship shuddered as ropes were being pulled taut. The sound of men’s voices yelling and metal against metal echoed through the ship. Throughout it all, Olivia stood staring down her cabin door waiting for someone to come bursting through. She grabbed a poker for the fire in her cabin and stood rigid as a sentry.

  Suddenly, there was a burst of sound, then light. The last thing Olivia remembered was being thrown backward and the sound of Spanish words flowing around her. She felt completely weightless as her petite figure was hoisted and she nestled against a solid form that smelled of sea air and leather.

  ********

  Olivia ached everywhere. Her body felt battered and weak. She opened her eyes and then quickly shut them again, as the light gave her a splintering headache. She cracked open one eyelid to a slit and slowly tried to sit up, but her head decided it was a terrible idea and she fell back the small amount her body had raised. As her head hit the fluffy pillow, she remembered the ship being attacked and the last moments in her cabin.

  Then, it dawned on her...a pillow. Her head was on a soft, downy pillow. Olivia tried to grasp for any information she could. She realized that she was in a bed, but she was certain it wasn’t the one in her cabin. She tried to cautiously peek an eye open again, this time preparing for the light. As her sight adjusted, she took inventory of her surroundings. The spacious room was entirely a dark cherry wood and had intricate carvings up the bedposts, on which she could now somewhat focus.

  Olivia looked past the bedposts across the room to the wall which was covered in maps. Her eyes scanned the shelves lined with books. She noted the large chair near the bookshelves with a small table with a lantern adjacent to it. Her first thought was that she must tell her father of this gorgeous ship--but all too soon she recalled her circumstances and suddenly things seemed very dire indeed.

  Just as Olivia’s head was feeling a bit less cloudy, the door to the cabin opened and a boy of about thirteen entered, carrying a tray. It was the smells from the tray that perked Olivia up; she hadn’t realized how famished she was until she smelled the food. It was a savory pairing of scents; the aroma of salty soup, bread, tea, and an orange intermingled into the most beautiful smell she had ever experienced.

  “Oh,” he said, surprised, his blond hair flopping in his eyes. “I will have to tell the captain that you’re awake,” he said eagerly as he placed the tray near her on a table. “I’ve been told to come in here before, and I thought today would be much the same: bring tray, see that you’re still in a drastic faint, and take the tray out. But, the captain keeps insisting that I check.” The boy seemed to be muttering more to himself than actually speaking to her.

  Olivia sat up a little too quickly, and slowly sunk back down. “I’m sorry, I feel horrible. But, where am I? And who might you be?” she asked, placing her head in her hands.

  “My name is Richard,” he said nodding at her in acknowledgement, a small dimple appeared on his left cheek. “You’re aboard the Vengador Diablo,” he finished with a sense of pride.

  At the name of the ship, Olivia’s eyes grew wide. The Avenging Devil--she had heard of this infamous pirate ship. She knew that those who encountered the ship were doomed. “Vengador Diablo,” she almost squeaked at him, concern mounting in her voice. “Am I a prisoner? What has become of the crew? There was a young slave woman named Daisy, do you know where she is?” Olivia began to fire questions at Richard.

  “Calm down, Miss. You’re not in immediate danger, but you’re not allowed to leave,” Richard said, seeming to echo the voice of his captain. “What’s your name?” he asked suspiciously.

  She blinked at him, letting the words sink in, then she gained confidence and jutted her chin proudly in the air, “I’m Olivia Clairmond, my father is one of the wealthiest plantation owners in Barbados. I’m sure if you contact him he will pay whatever ransom you require.”

  “Well, I will let the captain know. As far as your slave...Daisy, was it? Most of the crew and passengers were lost.” Richard looked surprisingly calm when he stated this last part.

  “Lost,” she whispered to herself. “Lost? What do you mean ‘lost’? Were they killed? Thrown overboard? What happened to everyone?” she begged.

  “I’m going to go speak with the captain, Miss Clairmond,” Richard said, dodging the questions. “Rest,” he said leaving the tray and quickly exiting the room.

  Olivia had sat in astonishment for a few moments after Richard had left her cabin. She was so hungry and exhausted that she could think of nothing other than eating and then resting, anyway. She quickly ate the meal, which was more than adequate, especially for how famished she was. Her head was still throbbing and she realized that she was quite tired. Despite everything, she eventually dozed off again.

  Chapter Three

  When Olivia awoke it felt like the middle of the night. The noises were different than they had been earlier, and there was an odd stillness hanging over the ship. Her head felt a little better and having had a meal and some rest she was feeling almost fully restored. She swung her feet to the side of the bed and gingerly experimented by placing them on the floor, trying to stand up. When she felt not only stable, but somewhat energized, she began to tip-toe to the door of her cabin.

  She turned the knob, but found the door locked. She frantically tried it the other direction, it still wouldn’t budge. Olivia was not one to be trifled with, she grabbed a couple of hair pins and began trying to unlock the door. If nothing else, it gave her something to focus on other than her current circumstances of being held prisoner by a pirate--and a ruthless one at that!

  She had no idea how long she had been trying to pop the lock when all of the sudden she heard an audible click and the lock gave. She almost squealed with delight in her victory, but thought better of drawing attention to herself as she remembered that she must be discreet in her escape. Olivia truly did not have any kind of plan, but she felt that leaving her cabin might provide her with answers more efficiently than waiting around for someone to come to her cabin again.

  With these thoughts in mind, she silently opened the door and peered into the corridor. She breathed a sigh of relief that no one was there, and then began to move through the ship.

  She had taken only a few steps when she felt someone near. Olivia hadn’t heard a sound, but goosebumps rose on her neck and arms, indicating a presence. As she slowly began to turn around, afraid of what she would find. Before she could see anything, a large hand covered her eyes, and another her mouth.

  Olivia’s thoughts were fragmented as she struggled in vain against the strong hands and arms. She was whisked back to her cabin as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Her head was tucked snuggly against a h
ard, massive chest. The solid arms that encircled her were like iron; despite all her struggles, she could not budge them. The immense hand that covered her mouth smelled faintly of gunpowder and spices.

  Suddenly, she felt a mouth graze her left ear. “Don’t scream,” she was commanded by a deep, baritone whisper. She heard a slight roll to the “r”, suggesting a Spanish accent. Her eyes were still covered, but Olivia’s mouth was released briefly as a large door was opened. Olivia was sure she was back in her cabin.

  She opened her mouth to scream, then thought better of it. Instead, she started speaking quickly and quietly, “Who are you? What do you want with me? My father is Edward Clairmond, he will pay any amount to get me back unharmed.” For a moment, there was no response and then she was grasped a little tighter.

  “I know who your father is,” he said in a low, guttural whisper which confirmed that her captor was a Spainard. An enormous hand was still covering her eyes as he deftly replaced his hand with a satiny piece of fabric that was secured behind her head. Olivia was tossed upon the bed and warned by the velvety voice, “Do not try and remove the blindfold.”

  Olivia could just see a sliver of the floor beneath the blindfold. So, she kept the blindfold in place, but bolted to the door. Just as she reached the doorknob, a large hand grabbed her around the waist and threw her back on the bed. Before she knew what was happening, her wrists were secured above her head.

  As he was working on immobilizing her ankles, he said with a smirk in his voice, “Though I was somewhat impressed with your ability to pick the lock, we can’t have you trying to escape. Now, behave and you might be able to stay in your cabin unfastened to your bed.” The voice was strangely seductive despite its dark sentiment.

  Olivia replied without even intending to, “It took me hours--to pick the lock, I mean. You don’t have to worry about me trying to escape again. I promise,” she said quietly, while tugging her wrists and ankles to test the strength of the binding.