The Pirate Bride

by Shannon Drake

  “Grog, Captain, just as you like it,” Hagar said, coming forward with a mug. “To victory over tyrants, liars, murderers and thieves!”

  She took the cup and drank deeply. She noticed that Cassandra was there, too, and even in men’s clothes, she was beautiful. Her face was so alive, her enthusiasm sincere. She stood at her father’s side, her arm tucked through his, and she seemed completely at ease in the company of a pirate crew.

  “Thank you.” At first Red’s voice was soft, choked with emotion, so she forced herself to speak more loudly. “Thank you. There could be no victory without you. My life was in your hands, and you kept it for me when I was convinced myself that it was lost. You are the finest crew who have ever sailed these seas. I am sincerely indebted to you, and I will remain so for the rest of my life.”

  A cheer went up again. Brendan threw his arm around her and squeezed her tightly.

  “We have taken the liberty of plotting a return to New Providence, as our own vessel is now truly in sad need of repair,” he said.

  She nodded blankly, then looked to Cassandra and Lord Bethany. “But our guests…” she said, and thought, our guests—who now include Laird Haggerty among their number.

  “We’ll be fine, lass,” Lord Bethany said. “You cannot bring me home in this ship, in any case, unless it is well camouflaged. I’m afraid you would be blown out of the water.”

  “But, New Providence?”

  “Oh, we know it’s a den of pirates and scurvy rats,” Cassandra said cheerfully. “But we are protected,” she said, smiling and looking around. “And my father has offered to see to it that a fair and legal pardon is given to any man here who asks, and he will finance those men in finding livelihoods of their choosing, as well.”

  Another cheer went up.

  Were they really all so happy at the thought of becoming law-abiding citizens? she wondered.

  With a life span of only a few more years in their current occupation, could she blame them?

  Wasn’t that what she should want for herself?

  She had wanted to live today, had desperately wanted to live. Because of Logan. But in any respectable manner, she could not be a part of his life.

  However, she owed these men.

  “Lord Bethany, you are truly an honorable man. The finest—as I have been told.” She smiled at Cassandra. The woman could not help being perfect.

  “Dinner is served!” Jimmy O’Hara announced into the proceedings.

  Again, a cheer went up. She became aware of the smell of fish being fried and realized that while she had “slept,” others had attended to all the necessities. The men began talking again, toasting each other with an air of celebration.

  “Men,” she said, in an authoritative tone, “we are, as ever, in dangerous waters. We must keep a lookout.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain!”

  She looked up. Silent Sam was grinning down at her from the crow’s nest.

  “We are good sailing men,” Brendan informed her. “We would not forget to keep watch.”

  She smiled at him. “Of course, you are. My mistake.” He looked at her with such pride and pleasure that she hugged him again fiercely—to yet another cheer.

  OVER DINNER, the conversation was loud and lively, some men talking with great pride of their achievements, others looking to the future. Jimmy O’Hara produced a plate of fresh-caught fish and fruit they had bought in New Providence, and someone suggested that he needed to open a public house back in the colonies.

  Red listened more than she talked and discovered that every man among them had dreams. Even the ship’s surgeon and the carpenter—who had come to them from Black Luke’s crew—were ready to settle down to legal activities. Emory, the carpenter, told her that he had been seized from a tavern in Savannah and had never intended to lead a pirate’s life.

  And Grant, the surgeon, said he had been in the royal navy, but when his ship had been taken and his calling discovered, he had been allowed to live and compelled to serve. When she had killed Black Luke, he had felt himself indebted to her.

  “You have long ago repaid any debt to me,” she assured him.

  The day had long ago become night. In the end, as she watched them drink and laugh and plan so eagerly for the future, she slipped away.

  Logan had remained with Cassandra and Lord Bethany. They had seemed to have much to discuss, so she retired to her cabin, where she was undisturbed through the night.

  LOGAN KNEW he should have been exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. Around midnight, he took over the helm. They were moving slowly, because it was dark and hazards invisible, but they had to keep moving, because they had a slow leak and were taking on water. They had to limp into a friendly port soon, and as the Eagle was a known pirate ship, New Providence was the closest safe haven.

  He was still angry with Red; she had risked too much when they had fought so hard for their lives.

  And he was worried. There seemed to be something in a life of piracy that she couldn’t let go. He had believed her quest was to ensure the death of the man who had ruined her life and slain her family. He understood that desire far too well.

  But while the others had spoken of the future, she had remained silent. She had still been thinking of the battle when she had regained consciousness. She couldn’t focus on life.

  Or on love.

  Good God, he really was a fool. All of his life, he had enjoyed the company of women. High-born, lowborn, friends and lovers. But he had never felt what she aroused and awakened in him. Cassandra was a perfect friend, and had he not met Red, perhaps they could have been lovers…. But he had met Red.

  Why, when he finally let down his guard and gave his heart, had he given it to Red? The one woman who would never turn to him?

  “Anything out there?”

  Logan had heard Brendan coming and was glad of the company to take his mind off his thoughts. “No, thank God,” he said. “I have no need of further excitement.”

  They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  Logan broke it first. “What will you do now?” he asked the younger man.

  Brendan shrugged. “That will depend on Red. Bobbie.”

  “Let’s pretend that Red decides she wants to build a life on shore somewhere. What would you want for yourself?” Logan asked.

  Brendan arched a brow and gave the question some thought. “Ships,” he said at last.

  “What?”

  “I once thought about being a merchantman, but I think I’d prefer to be a shipbuilder. I’ve studied ships for a long time. I know what makes them fast and what makes them strong.” Then he shrugged in self-deprecation. “I haven’t the necessary formal education, of course.”

  “Education is something that can be acquired,” Logan pointed out.

  “Aye, perhaps.” He clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I will never be able to repay you for all you have done.”

  “Oddly enough…I will never be able to repay you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have been searching for Blair Colm for a very long time myself.”

  Brendan nodded. “I wonder how many out there will rejoice to learn of his death,” he mused.

  “Quite a few, I should imagine.” Logan looked at the other man and smiled. “So…a shipbuilder. I imagine you will be wanting a wife.”

  “Well…yes…of course.” Brendan’s discomfort was almost palpable.

  “Cassandra is an extremely fine woman,” Logan pointed out as if the idea were only now occurring to him.

  “The finest,” Brendan said fervently.

  “And lest you be laboring under a misconception, I feel I must point out that she and I have mutually decided that we should not spend our lives together.”

  Brendan looked out to sea. He swallowed fiercely.

  “I am not…I could never…I could never hope to be good enough.”

  “Good enough?”

  “Her father bears a title.”

  “Aye, well
, riches and titles were of concern to me once, too,” Logan said. “Perhaps they even meant something to Horatio at one time.”

  “He remains a lord.”

  “And a colonist.”

  “But—”

  “I cannot answer for Lord Horatio or Cassandra, of course,” Logan said. “But I think perhaps they are more egalitarian than you suspect.”

  “Still, I cannot accept her father’s largesse and hope to…I could never…We haven’t actually attacked many ships,” Brendan explained.

  Logan suddenly laughed.

  “Are you mocking me now?” Brendan asked. “I am not a rich man, whatever you might believe of Red Robert and…her crew.”

  “I am not mocking you. It is just that…I have thought of a way for this crew to reap some benefit from all that has occurred.”

  “What is that?”

  “I had a moment alone last night aboard Blair Colm’s ship. I don’t know from whom he stole his bounty, but as we know how he operated, the rightful owners are beyond caring. Last night I threw a fortune overboard in relatively shallow waters.”

  Brendan stared at him blankly, then blinked.

  “When the ship is repaired—and reoutfitted, as there will be no more pirating, even in pretense—we will go back. And you will all be rich men indeed.”

  “I could kiss you!” Brendan exclaimed.

  “Please, don’t,” Logan said.

  Brendan laughed and slapped him on the shoulder instead. Logan tried not to wince, as the blow fell on the stitches he had received not so long ago.

  “You would take us to it? You…would share?”

  “Aye, and easily.”

  Brendan nodded. “Once again, I will be forever in your debt.”

  “No. I have given you nothing. The future is something you must make yourself.”

  Brendan nodded. “Aye,” he said softly. “But…” He shook his head. “I’ll take the helm. You deserve some rest.”

  “No, go see if Cassandra is awake, watching the stars…hoping that you will come to her. I cannot rest just now. I am fine where I am.”

  “I will send someone to relieve you in an hour.”

  “As you wish.”

  Brendan moved away, whistling softly.

  They were alive, Logan thought.

  They had all survived.

  And Blair Colm was dead.

  So why, when this should have been a night of great celebration for both himself and Red, did he suddenly feel so…

  Bereft?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “YOU BROUGHT DOWN Blair Colm?” Sonya said incredulously.

  She was lying on the bed in her private space—a room she had earned and paid for—in the tavern. She seldom brought men here; for the most part, she had taken on a managerial role rather than being a provider of services these days.

  But she’d always had a weakness for Jimmy O’Hara. He’d never been much of a pirate, but then, he hadn’t chosen the life. He’d been taken off a ship years ago by a fellow known as Elegant Elam—long gone now—and rather than be marooned, he had joined the crew. From there he had come to New Providence, where he had spent most of his days drinking. Even so, he had a certain charm about him. He had a lilt to his voice and always called her “darlin’.”

  Jimmy, lying at her side, nodded with pure pleasure. “Ah, Sonya, what an adventure.”

  Sonya rolled over. “But who killed him?”

  “What?” Jimmy turned to her, frowning.

  “Blair Colm. Who killed him?”

  Jimmy shrugged, and his grin deepened. “I wish I could tell you, darlin’, that it had been me. Ye’d love me all the more! But I did fight—I honestly fought. And hard. There was something about the righteousness of that battle—not that I’d want to be doing it again! Nay, not I. And that great Lord Bethany, he’s of a mind to give us all a new start, a pardon, says he can do it, I swear it. And I believe it. I’m telling you true, that I am, darlin’. And when I am a rich man, ah, well, a man of means, at the least, well then, darlin’…”

  Sonya didn’t hear him as he rambled on. She was still thinking about his assertion that Blair Colm was dead. She couldn’t believe it, much as she wanted to. She would never forget what the man had done to her, how he had made her feel.

  And she had never stopped fearing him. Hating him.

  She caught Jimmy’s face between her hands.

  “Jimmy, I have to know. Who killed him? How? Did you see his body?”

  “Well, no, that I didn’t. But I did see the ship go down. Now, darlin’, you’re not listening to me. What I want to talk about is—”

  “Did Red come ashore?” Sonya demanded.

  “What?” Jimmy said.

  “Did Red come ashore?”

  Jimmy frowned fiercely. “Now, Sonya, I’m a patient man. Here we are, lying all fine and sweet and naked and enjoying one another, and you’re worryin’ about a dead man, and the captain.”

  Sonya rose. “We’re not lying here sweet and naked anymore, Jimmy O’Hara. I asked you a question. Did Red come ashore?”

  Jimmy pouted. “No, Red remained aboard ship. A slew of carpenters are out there now, checking on the damage, trying to make her seaworthy without havin’ to careen her.”

  Sonya was already dressing. “Stay, Jimmy. I’ll be back soon enough. Don’t go down and be getting yourself drunk, I’ll not be having it, you getting all soused and passing out on me.”

  “Sonya!” he cried.

  But she was already closing the door.

  She had to know.

  RED HAD SENT Hagar ashore to buy her a supply of black wigs, so she would have had no difficulty going into town had she so desired. The only man who had ever dared to pick a fight with her there had been Blair Colm, and even he had been too cowardly to face her himself. Besides, now he was gone. Red Robert was a known friend of Blackbeard, who was growing ever more powerful, so it was likely that—unless a terrible falling-out between the two of them was rumored—she was perfectly safe walking around New Providence.

  Far safer than she might be in any legal port.

  But though they had been in port for two days, she had chosen to remain with her ship. She had slept. She had awakened, cried for no reason and drunk herself back to sleep again. She was, at the least, rested. Then she had begun the arduous task of trying to decide just what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  Logan hadn’t come near her again.

  No matter what he had said, he lived in a different world. He had no doubt finally realized that himself. He had saved her life. He had…cared for her. And now…

  Now he despised her.

  Because I can’t be a proper woman, she told herself.

  And yet, sitting at her desk, trying to pretend she was dealing with how to break up the crew and what in God’s name to do with herself, she wondered if that was the truth.

  It had to be.

  Despite his words, the world was what it was. She had last seen him with Cassandra and Lord Bethany. He was probably still with them, showing them around the town Cassandra had so badly wanted to see.

  She was staring down at the papers on her desk and watching them blur before her when the door opened.

  Closed.

  And was bolted from within.

  And he was there.

  He didn’t speak to her, only walked over to the desk and stared down at her.

  She was in full pirate captain garb, minus her weapons, and those were all within easy reach. She had a wig nearby, as well, just in case it should prove important that she be Captain Red Robert at any given moment. Had someone come, seeking to see the captain, she would have been warned by Hagar, who was guarding her door.

  Hagar would never have stopped Logan, of course.

  “What?” she asked.

  He didn’t reply, only continued staring at her.

  “I had…I had thought you were ashore. With Lord Bethany. And Cassandra.”

  She tried to speak lightl
y.

  He set his hands on the desk and leaned down until his face was only inches from hers. “Do you think I am a liar, Bobbie?”

  She flushed.

  “A liar? I don’t recall labeling you as such.”

  He didn’t say anything else, only came around the desk and jerked her to her feet.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  He answered by pulling her forcefully into his arms. When she opened her mouth to protest, he silenced her with a deep and penetrating kiss. When she struggled against him, he merely lifted her off her feet, and when she fell back, it was upon her bunk. Before she could rise, he came down upon her, his weight pressing her into the poor comfort of the thin mattress. She felt his hands beneath her shirt, felt the lightning streak of desire his touch evoked, such a burning within, and still the pressure of his lips on hers, the absolute hunger they shared. He moved for a brief moment, casting aside his own shirt, but she only lay stunned when she might have spoken. And then his mouth was on hers again, his hands on the tie of the breeches, and his were already open. Flesh was against flesh, and it seemed as if he were touching her everywhere, creating magic, and she wasn’t sure how he managed it, but their clothing seemed to be melting away.

  Whatever came, she wanted this, wanted to hold him one last time, know the incredible wonder of his body in hers, the feel of his lips, teeth and tongue against her, all over her. Wanted to touch him, know his powerful and vital presence, the ripple of muscle and sinew, the vibrant heat of his skin. She wanted so badly to press her lips against him and feel the volatile contractions within him, the trembling of his frame because of her…

  But she couldn’t stop herself. As his mouth trailed from hers to her collarbone and breasts, she gasped out, “What are you doing?”

  “What I want,” he told her. “What I want more than anything in this world.” He pulled away from her, arms bracing his weight above her, as he stared down at her. “What do you want?” he demanded.

  She swallowed hard and trembled. She knew that she should deny him. Deny herself. But she couldn’t.

  “What you want,” she whispered.