Rogues Like It Hot

by Tamara Gill

  How had she come by such an injury, and would it prove to precipitate her demise on the open sea? Being sure-footed was a necessity on any sea vessel. He hoped her handicap wouldn’t ultimately be her downfall.

  Adrian admired her courage. She never broke, never collapsed into hysterics at the very real possibility that her virtue was imminently threatened or that her life could be forfeit on his whim. Hell, she didn’t even babble about the dirt and grime of some of the crew or beg for mercy due to her handicap. That integrity was rare. Of course, stony quiet did not mean she’d resigned herself to her new role, it might only mean she bided her time. Given the obstinacy she’d already exhibited, he tended to think the latter.

  How well he knew that tactic. It had taken him months until he’d become broken enough to accept his fate. But breaking didn’t mean failing; at times it meant a new beginning and finding strength.

  He led her up to the quarter—or crew—deck and along the planking until they reached the cabins. Once he passed the one that would eventually belong to her, he pushed open the door to his and guided her inside.

  “Welcome to my sanctuary.” He left the door open to encourage a breeze into the room.

  She stepped inside then faced him. In the full sun, gold flecks appeared in the brown depths of her eyes. “These are your quarters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you plan to keep me here, in this gilded prison?”

  Ah, so it wasn’t merely iron bars that made her feel like a prisoner. Did the whole of the ship represent imprisonment or just her circumstances? Perhaps it was until one made peace with it. “For the moment. Once I can trust you, I’ll grant you a bit of freedom. It’s your prerogative how long that might take. Based on your actions once you gain my goodwill, freedom can be extended.”

  “How is this different from the hold?”

  “There are no rats, for one.” He swept out an arm to encompass the roomy cabin. “As you can see, the accommodations are quite comfortable. Bed and clean linens. Table and chairs. There’s a chamber pot behind the privacy screen, plus a pitcher of water and basin for daily ablutions. If you closed your eyes, you’d never dream you were onboard a ship.”

  Her scoff rang in the space. “When I dream, it is not of being abducted by a dirty pirate.” She retreated a few paces, only halting when her back connected with a bureau. “For the last few months, my dreams have been full of finding new and different ways of killing you.”

  Adrian dropped into a spindle-back chair. Beyond the deaths she’d revealed, what the hell had happened in her life to create a harbor for such animosity? The question gnawed at him, but he refused to ask it. To do so right now would give her the upper hand. “My current dishevelment is due to my short incarceration. You would look dirty too had you been in that cell.” She resembled a skittish colt with her stiff posture and wide eyes. “Please, relax. For the moment you are safe.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing her delectable bosom higher against the edge of her bodice. “I somehow doubt that. You do not inspire trust.”

  Adrian’s mouth watered to taste her skin. This bit of skirt was far different from the overly dressed and perfumed prostitutes who usually offered their services in port, and far removed from the meek and mild English ladies he’d had cause to know before piracy became his life. Careful control was needed. No good would come of losing his good sense to her—or any woman.

  He sighed, almost second-guessing his decision to bring her along. “I thought we’d moved past the idea I am not the pirate you wanted, yet you still look at me with daggers in your eyes.”

  “Does it matter?” A tiny smile, so small he might have imaged it, flitted over her lips. “You may not have killed my father and fiancé, but you obviously have done a crime to find yourself on the hangman’s gallows, and that was just the one they caught you at. The only good pirate is a dead one, as the saying goes.”

  Spears of annoyance stabbed through his chest. For whatever reason, her prejudice against his profession didn’t sit well. Who was she to judge? “Ah, but you killed an innocent man in cold blood this morning; a man of the cloth besides. If you and I were to stand before God right now, we would both be charged with the same crime. Many or one, murder is the same.” He knew he’d struck a nerve when her expression changed to shock and disgust. “You cannot dispute the facts.”

  “No, I can only beg forgiveness for what I have done.” For a second, tears welled in her eyes before she blinked them away. She raised her chin a notch with no trace of a tremble. “This conversation is not about me. I am quite accustomed to fighting my own demons and will continue to do so long after you and I part ways.”

  “Which is not an imminent possibility.”

  She unfolded her arms and clenched her hands into fists. “I cannot imagine you having an interest beyond anyone besides yourself.” When he remained quiet, she continued. “How did you come to be captured in the first place?”

  No shrinking violet, this one. His appreciation for her rose a degree. “Let’s just say my last mission involved sinking a couple of Spanish merchant vessels off the southern coast of Florida. One of them happened to belong to the erstwhile governor of said territory. He by a huge stroke of luck, happened to follow me as I exited a tavern just south of St. Augustine one night when I was deep in my cups.” The governor was more interested in recouping his losses than seeing a pirate hang. He’d made the deal with Ortiz, and had the Spaniard’s men not interrupted the hanging, his own crew had been in place to do the job.

  “Ah, so you were drunk and most likely bragging about your latest treasure hauls.”

  “Perhaps.” He allowed a grin. “However, I suppose I needed a further bit of ego stroking.”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t all you wanted stroked.” Briefly, her gaze rested on his crotch before returning to his face.

  How interesting. That small bit of interest heated his blood. “Indeed. I returned to my ship with a bit of muslin. Most of my men were still in town so I’d be assured privacy. Shortly afterward, a contingent of men yanked me from my vessel and hauled my ass to the prison.” Because he’d been the only one taken, he figured it was personal retaliation from the governor. No doubt distracted by a woman planted by the same.

  “A product of your own stupidity and lust.” A smirk appeared on her highly kissable mouth. She edged toward the door. “You deserved the prison term, but that was not a hanging offense.”

  “No. The cold-blooded massacre of both crews was, although the deaths did not occur by my hand.” He couldn’t help what he was, yet the censure in her eyes made him wish, for the first time in years, his profession was different.

  Almost.

  “You gave the order.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which makes you culpable by association as well as intent.” Another few steps brought her flush with the opening. “You are as responsible as if you’d done the deed yourself.”

  “If you are searching for an admission of that guilt or an apology, you will be highly disappointed.” Exhaustion crept in. He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. “I learned long ago never to offer excuses or apologies. Life is lived. Mistakes and triumphs are made along the way. There is no shame in any of it, and we learn from each. How I square that with God is no one’s business but my own.” When he opened his eyes and glanced in her direction, he sighed at the empty space where she’d been.

  Damn fool woman. Of course he’d known she would run but had done nothing to stop her. Perhaps on some level he wanted the opportunity to go after her. He grinned. Yes, she’d help pass the time onboard well.

  Adrian stood and indulged in a leisurely stretch. There was no place Sarah could run or even hide. His desire ramped to another level of interest. Oh, he and she would very much be lovers, but she also needed a healthy dose of schooling on who held all the power.

  Even so, the chase was on.

  Chapter Three

  Sarah paused out
side the constable’s cabin. Her heart pounded. Her pulse rushed through her ears. She’d managed to slip away when the pirate had let down his guard. A tiny sliver of relief slid through her chest even as the gimpy leg ached from such frantic activity as crawling over various decks of the ship. Sweat plastered her shift to her body and heated the back of her neck beneath her heavy hair. The hem of her cloak thumped against the backs of her legs as she ran. Though she’d passed a number of the crew, none had stopped her flight. Their leers she’d ignored. It wasn’t as if she’d never encountered such reactions before. The world was a cruel place, after all.

  None of that mattered. In minutes, she’d end the plan she’d started earlier that morning. The pirate’s life would cease. Though she could very well believe his claims of innocence; now, it was a matter of principle, of purpose.

  Taking a deep breath, she let it ease out between her lips and entered the cabin. “Hello?” A quick glance around the room didn’t reveal a person—pirate or otherwise. A green-and-yellow canary occupied a silver cage in one corner. It chirped in an agitated fashion, but no one came to see about the racket. She sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Then she darted to a table. Tools lay scattered on the top with a few blades of varying sizes nestled among them. She closed her fingers around the hilt of a shiny dagger.

  “How deadly are you?” Sarah pricked a fingertip on the tip. A scarlet drop of blood beaded instantly. Excellent. Someone had recently sharpened the blade. Most likely it could slice through fabric and the flesh beneath with little effort. She would find her mark this time.

  She shot out the doorway and back down the passage. A rush of hysterical laughter welled in her throat. When did I turn into such a cutthroat? Shaking her head, she swallowed and purposefully kept her mind off the moral problem.

  She’d barely taken two steps on the upper deck when the pirate captain loomed before her, his shadow growing long across the planking as if it too wished to chase her down. On the prowl, he appeared menacing and larger than life—a true pirate and very much the captain he claimed to be and the man from the gallows. This was a man to fear and respect… and she was running from him. “Adrian.” His name slipped out before she could recall it. She’d not been given permission to address him thusly, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she should. A name was too personal. It meant something; it meant they might find common ground, and beyond everything, she refused to feel anything for him except loathing.

  “Have you an appointment, Miss Covington? I can only assume that was the reason for your rush. You left our conversation quite abruptly and took advantage of my goodwill.” Though his tone of voice remained even and calm, deadly annoyance lurked beneath the surface.

  “I… I had a matter to attend to.” She kept the dagger hidden in the folds of her skirt, hoping he hadn’t seen the weapon yet.

  “Ah. For a moment I thought you had a mind for trouble.” He stalked her, hunted her as if he were a jungle cat and she his prey. “Are you certain your story is the truth?”

  “Truth?” She scoffed, but retreated. Soon she reached an open area of decking. Numerous members of the crew formed a ring around them, leaving them several feet of clearance. The air smelled of the salty sea and sun-heated bodies. “What do you know of truth?”

  “Much, I’m afraid. I know it is a commodity everyone desperately claims they want, but not many people wish to own it if given the opportunity, for it means confronting dirty secrets.” He shoved his loose sleeves up his arms. “I suspect somewhere along the way, you have misplaced the real meaning of truth as well. Truth unto yourself, most of all.”

  What does that mean? She edged to the main mast, feeling secure when the wood dug into her back. At least she’d be partially protected. Warm breezes wafted across her cheeks and caught tendrils of her hair. I refuse to let him play games with me. “It does not matter.”

  “Oh, but it does. Truth means everything, especially on my ship. It’s very much a commodity.” He came steadily toward her, until two feet of space separated them. “What do you mean to do, Miss Covington? We’re all waiting with bated breath.” He gestured to encompass the men around him.

  Rough laughter ebbed through the crowd. Sarah cringed. Her stomach clenched. She hated the mocking attention, hated that he’d been the one to lead the charge. The dagger’s hilt recalled her mission. “The same thing I wished to do this morning. Kill you.”

  He laid a hand to his heart. The smile that graced his lips held no joy or happiness. His rigid stance radiated harsh command. This was a man who expected to be obeyed without incident. “I had thought we’d made progress on that matter. I killed the man who murdered your loved ones. Your thirst for revenge is rendered null and void by this happy accident.” He took another step closer. “If anything, you are in my debt now. Twice over.”

  “You jest.” She snorted her disbelief. “How do you figure?”

  “I saved you from the gallows since you killed the priest.” His grin was cold. “I am still waiting for my thank you.”

  “And you’ll keep waiting until Hell freezes. You did not save me from anything.” She brought out the dagger, brandishing it before her. The folds of her cloak fell back and left her arm free. Cold pleasure trickled down her spine as he eyed the blade warily. “You may have dispatched that other pirate, but I need the physical elation of knowing I assisted in closing this chapter of my life by my hand. I will not be cheated in this intent.”

  “Why me?” He inched forward another step. A mere twelve inches separated them now, which was too close to throw the dagger and much too close to get in a decent stab. She’d either needed to run or try something desperate. “Why not any one of my crew or a stranger from the street? Did St. Augustine not have a satisfactory indigent you could have chosen?” One of his eyebrows inclined a fraction.

  More ribbing filled the air.

  “That woman’s got a wish fer death, she does,” said one of the pirates.

  “Aye, Cap’n doesn’t take kindly to those who don’t follow orders,” answered another. “Or provoke ‘im.”

  Sarah licked her lips and tuned the men from her focus. “Why should I take out my anger on the downtrodden? You are a highly visible pirate captain. Why not you?” He didn’t answer, which caused her ire to rise. How dare he not respond! “You flaunt every rule that’s ever been made. You are foul, ill-mannered, and without morals. Why anyone would choose to become a pirate is beyond me.”

  A mask of unadulterated anger shadowed his face. His eyes narrowed. Rage burned in their blue-gray depths. “You know nothing of my life. I have become what I am out of necessity.”

  His rich clothes, his cultured English accent, his speech patterns indicated he wasn’t born to this but to a life of privilege, wealth and possibly title. She lifted her gaze to his. He had indeed gained this position from circumstances not of his own making. Why does piracy mean so much to him then? She straightened her spine and strengthened her resolve. Her curiosity for his past held no bearing. “You have become what you are out of vengeance.”

  “So have you. Isn’t that what drove you to this pass?”

  For a brief moment in the midday sun, she shared a bit of clarified truth with the pirate. In this they had found common ground after all. Panic flared in her stomach. The animosity she found in his eyes chilled her blood. She had no choice but to kill him, otherwise, she’d have wasted months of her life. It was now a matter of pride. “You are correct, but at least I have never attempted to deny it. The quest for vengeance has fueled me for many months as I waited for this exact moment. Before today, before I met you, I had never killed because of it.”

  “Which makes you as unredeemable as every one of us on this ship. One murder or thirty, the crime is the same. You are in good company.”

  “No. God can pardon us if we but ask. However, for the moment, I am not concerned with my immortal soul.” She hated the smug look on his face, hated that he thought he commanded the sea and everyone upon it, hated that
a tiny, buried part of her responded to his strength and power.

  “Then why the abhorrence for life aboard the Lady Catherine? If, as you say, you can ask God’s forgiveness at any time, finding yourself in the company of thieves and murderers on this vessel should be of no consequence.”

  Why did he have to show inordinate skill at verbal sparring as well? Despite her dislike of his profession, her estimation of him as a person edged upward. “I suppose my convictions are a bit more difficult to forget than I’d anticipated.” Tired of the heated conversation, she raised her hand with her blade at the ready. “I would rather die than spend another moment in the company of pirates. You are a soulless lot who have no respect or redemption between you.”

  Hurt sprang into his eyes, gone before she drew her next breath and replaced by grim determination. “You’d rather hurl yourself into the sea in martyrdom and take your chances with the sharks and salt water?”

  She inclined her chin. “My chances of survival are better than here, don’t you think? At least the only thing the sharks will do is kill me.”

  Adrian moved closer until the toes of his boots almost touched the hem of her dress. “You won’t survive once these men pounce. I refuse to recall them if they do.”

  Her chest tightened. She brandished the dagger and Adrian retreated. “Perhaps, but it only takes one sure slice of my blade.” She lunged. He jumped backward, preventing fatal harm. The tip of the dagger had barely scratched his chest at the vee of his shirt.

  Shouts of encouragement for both her and Adrian erupted from the crowd.

  “Show ‘er a taste of yer fury, Cap’n,” one man yelled.

  “Give ‘im hell, miss,” a voice sounding suspiciously like Brax encouraged.