Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1)
Page 10
“I must warn you, Charlotte. There aren’t many furnishings up there yet. I have only begun settling in.”
“That’s quite alright. You will be surprised by the things that please me, Mister Braddock.”
He nodded to agree and led me up the curved stairway. There was a long hall lined with dark wooden doors and he let me peek inside each of the rooms. Though they were empty, they all shared a miraculous view of the ocean that left them feeling full of light and promise.
All the way to the left of the hall there was a closed double door. Completely enticed by the intrigue, I walked behind Lawrence anticipating the mystery that would unveil as the doors opened. The moment Lawrence turned the nob, the hall floor illuminated with a vibrant stretch of light, and he fanned his hand to welcome me into his master suite.
There was but a plain wooden bed frame with a night table by one side, an ornate armoire, and one simple chair against the wall, but the full length windows surrounded a glass veranda door that opened out to a covered porch. “This room is miraculous, Lawrence.” I exclaimed my delight, but he lowered his eyebrow and attempted to excuse his lack of décor.
While walking over to open the veranda door I assured, “It is stunning in simplicity, Lawrence. And what more would you ever need in life when you have a view like this.”
He flashed me a stunning smile and I suddenly felt a hint of romance tugging me in his direction. I once again resisted the promiscuous urge, but I did begin to wonder what it might be like to kiss him. Then my wandering mind even went as far as to imagine being with him in the bed that he stood before. He was terribly handsome and his place was divine. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to settle in and make a home with him.
Shaking the tempting visuals out of my mind, I opened the veranda door. A misty breeze hit my face, blowing my hair all about, and I welcomed the sensation with open arms. The house was up on a hill and the second story was high enough to overlook the treetops, so the view displayed a clear sight of the coast. Standing with my hands on the rail I imagined that I was in the crow’s nest, and with the wind brushing through my hair, I found myself in envy of the breeze; for it was free to go wherever it wanted.
In the gray light of day that illuminated through the cloud cover, the ocean coated the earth with a dark glassy glare, but the sand along the shore looked warm, white and inviting. Then with my very eyes I saw the spot on the beach where Sterling laid me down, and I was suddenly surrounded by the power of his memory. The contrast of my dilemma stung me with a terrible pain, and I looked to the right as if I was fighting to escape the lure of his aura, but in that direction I saw the line of rocky coast that I had first seen with him that night in the moonlight. By the lay of the land I could tell that the lagoon he took me to would be a mere twenty-minute walk through the forest. Even if I chose to accept this gracious life that I was being offered, the beautiful view would be a constant reminder of my love for Sterling Bentley.
Lawrence came up behind me and gently placed his hand on my shoulder. “Come my dear, I have something else to show you.”
We walked out to the back yard where there was a covered patio and a white pavilion in the center of the lawn. The layout was just as stunning as the rest of the house, but to my greatest pleasure, he led me over to his shooting range. A long flat stretch of imported sand lined the path towards a tall stack of hay bales, and I could see there was a work in progress to lay levels for farther targets.
“Oh, Lawrence, it’s amazing. When can we start? I can hardly wait to get my hands on a pistol.”
I was worried that I had spoken too wildly, but he chuckled, “Through the excitement you displayed, I figured you would be ready today.”
He introduced me to Emery, his servant, and Emery showed us to the guns he had set out. I was beyond excited, but before we got started Lawrence asked Emery to take me inside to gather my gifts while he prepared the guns.
Emery took me in and introduced me to Beatrice, who led me to one of the small rooms downstairs. Beatrice informed me that Lawrence had gifted me with riding attire and proceeded to help me change into it.
The ivory shirt was loose fitting and though the brown waistcoat was tighter, it was just enough to hold the outfit together without suffocating me like a cursed corset. I felt so free and flexible in the brown canvas breeches, and wearing the high rise buckled boots, I felt as if I could conquer the world and look good doing it. There was also a tricorne hat that had gold trim lining the brim and peach colored feathers accenting the band, topping off my rugged new look with a slightly eccentric flare.
The fanciful curls of my hair were the only sign of femininity that the rugged outfit bestowed, and I felt so free that I wanted to run down the hall. Of course I contained my wild impulse and politely thanked Beatrice as she hung my dress.
Once I met Lawrence in the yard, I barraged him with a ramble of gratitude. He put his arm over my shoulder and smiled, “One of many gifts I wish to give to you, mi’lady.”
I had to calm my animations as we began to focus on the guns. As Lawrence explained all the matters of care and safety, I listened with full respect for his expertise; as impressed with his knowledge as I was with the beauty of the wooden guns. I was overwhelmed by the choices displayed in his collection, but he insisted on starting me off with an English Lock Musket.
He carefully loaded the gun and explained each of the many steps as he went along. Once the gun was ready to fire he lined up on the range. After emphasizing the important details of his sturdy stance, he fired the gun. The sound of the explosion rumbled through my heart with a rush of adrenaline that inspired me to hoot with excitement. So I did. My exclamation intensified once I saw that he laid a direct bullseye on the target. Lawrence Braddock had not yet been more attractive to me.
It was my turn, but he informed me that I had to load the gun myself. He had made it look so simple that I easily agreed, but transferring the powder and seating the ball with the ramrod was much more meticulous than I had noted it to be. I was thankful that he was patient with me while I fumbled through the steps, and once the musket was finally loaded, Lawrence walked me over to face the target.
After showing me how to position my body, and helping me seat the butt against my shoulder, he stood behind me to align my position. His hot breath breezed down my neck as he warned me about the kickback, and though I liked the way I felt between the stability of his body and the power of the gun, I liked it just as much when he backed up to let me have my moment.
I stared at the target with one eye closed. Equally exhilarated and terrified, anticipating the feel of the shot, I took a few deep breaths to help gather my nerve.
Inhaling a slow breath of air, I pulled on the metal trigger.
The suspense between my action and the sound of the fire seemed agonizing, but I kept my steady stance as the shot ignited; letting by body absorb the power of the blast.
The bullet hit the target’s far corner and there was no hope to control the lingering buzz that followed the power I had just released. With the smell of carbon and sulfur biting at my eyes and nose, and the echo of the shot still ringing in my ear, I turned to Lawrence to exclaim my thrill. “Oh, thank you, Lawrence. That was the most exciting moment of my life.”
I jumped over to hug him and as I blurted out all my unkempt excitements, he put his arm around my shoulder and laughed. “You are definitely one of a kind, Charlotte Wetherby. And a stunning shot as well.”
We spent the next few hours shooting. He taught me using three different guns, and though I did well with all of them, the flintlock pistol was my favorite. It was small and agile, quicker to load and easier to handle. Not to mention the way I adored the ornate swirls that were engraved in the metal.
Emery came out to serve us lunch, and though I hardly wanted to stop for a break, the smell of warm bread and the sight of sliced cheese assured me that I was due for a good meal. Lawrence and I sat together on a blanket under the shade of a Poinciana tree an
d took our time to enjoy the delectable lunch. We then continued to spend the rest of our day shooting and enjoying each other’s company.
The evening came all too soon, and knowing that I had to be home by sunset, I reluctantly headed in to have Beatrice help me change. I thanked everyone for the wonderful day before Lawrence walked me out to the carriage, but instead of helping me in, he took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “I will dream of the day I am able to kiss you, Charlotte.”
His stunning appearance was completely mesmerizing and now that I had seen him in his rugged element, he had become even more alluring. Not to mention that he was so kind and sincere, but I wasn’t yet ready for such a proprietary show of affection. Smirking at him with a flirtatious half smile, I held my hand out suggesting that he help me in the carriage. “Please do not temp my virtue, Mister Braddock.”
X
The following weeks of my life were spent shooting targets and enjoying fine lunches with Lawrence Braddock. There was no denying the way I enjoyed his pleasant company, but even more than that, I had found myself falling in love with the guns. The afternoons at the range were my rugged escape from the prim and proper world I had always fled in my mind, and I was hypnotized by the sensual connection that bonded me with the fire power. Lawrence was rather amused by the seriousness that I placed on reloading with ample speed, but he was apt to compliment my impeccable aim, teasing that I would soon be ready for war.
Once my father found out what I had been doing with my time he flustered in disbelief. “What in the world are you doing raising firearms Charlotte? You are a lady, not a rugged marksman.”
I kept from laughing at his blustering dramatics and calmly assured, “Father, you wished that I would be safe and cared for. This is one more way to see to that.”
He stormed down the hall flaring about how he did everything he could to raise me proper, and I even heard him curse my brother Isaiah for inspiring my wandering mind with his tales of adventure.
The days breezed by and the evenings were full of rum-filled laughter. My bond with the women had tightened, and I was so busy enjoying myself that the stress of my dilemma was resting easy in the back of my mind. Yet, no matter how comfortable I became in my daily saunter, the night left me alone with the growing moon and the silent mystique of my long lost buccaneer.
My dreams were ravished by his memory; whether through fearful nightmares of a pirate’s pending doom or in warm embraces and passionate kisses. One particular night I awoke to the crash of thunder, haunted by the lingering memory of thrashing waves and dark haunting eyes. I sat up in a sweat-covered panic, breathing as if I had been running. With the rain beating against my window, and the wind violently whipping through the trees, there was no relief in my wake.
I slowed my breathing and tried to calm myself by meandering over the delights of my daily activities, but the only peace I could truly find was in my memory of Sterling Bentley. Ironic as it was to be soothed by memories of a man that lived such a chaotic lifestyle, the peace he brought to my heart was unrivaled. I snuggled back into my cozy bed and imagined that I was lying against his chest with his arm wrapped around me. It was as if I could feel him breathing, and my own breath calmed in the warmth of his memory. Imagining that I was running my fingers through his long, golden hair, I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 6
Aflame
As told by Charlotte Wetherby
With the sky dumping rain outside my window as it was, I figured it would be relaxing to spend the morning indoors, chatting with Mary. Requesting a bath after my long sweaty night, I settled into the bath and sighed, “Oh, I feel like we haven’t spoken in years, my love.”
“It’s been almost a week since we have taken our time together, so I believe that equates to years,” Mary agreed.
We both laughed and continued in pleasant small talk throughout my bath. Once we headed into the dressing area Mary complimented, “I am pleased to hear that you have become comfortable with a gun, Miss Charlotte.”
“Yes. I have and what a thrill it is.”
“Your father is not so thrilled.”
She impersonated him blustering down the hall and we laughed about my father’s dramatic flair, but my joyful mood took a drastic turn when Mary giggled, “I have also heard that you have become quite comfortable with Mister Braddock?”
My blood began to boil in frustration. I knew I had grown complacent with Lawrence and hearing Mary’s observant mention filled my heart with a flood of guilt. I let my defensive emotion get the best of me. “What else am I supposed to do, Mary? Shall I wait around for that Wind of Glory like a bloody dock in the harbor? The full moon has already past and there is no sight of mast or sail of the man that promised to return to me. He was involved in that awful break in, there are wanted posters in town, and he pointed his sword at Maureen for heaven’s sakes. And as if that is not enough, I have no idea what condition he is in or where in the world he is at!” I paced the floor in my burgundy dress, flailing my arms with frustration.
Mary looked stunned by the hurtful tone of my outburst, yet she still tried to be accepting of my painful frustrations. “Charlotte, do you love Mister Braddock? If you do, that is alright.”
“This isn’t about love; it’s about sense and reason,” I snapped.
As flustered as I was, I listened intently as Mary sullenly spoke. “I have known many men, Charlotte. From Ireland, across the ocean, and even here on this island’s shore, but there is only one man that I have ever loved. No matter where he is on that ocean, I can never give my heart to another because he holds it with him.”
The truth of her words struck the final crack in my fragile heart of glass and I shouted with shattering force. “Well then you go soggy yourself in the tide, Mary. You might use this to waste your time with.” I tossed the spyglass on the bed and stormed out of the room.
Before the door closed behind me I heard Mary whisper, “If I knew he would have me I would.”
I ran out into the rain. Dashing to the garden’s end, the wild wind blew my hair all over, and my dress was quickly drenched in the downpour. Once I reached the fence, I held onto the iron bars and cried. My heavy tears mixed with the raindrops as I stared across the darkened ocean, where the grey waves tumbled roughly like the turmoil in my heart. There was no escaping the pain of my emotional hurricane, so with nowhere else to turn to, I collapsed against the stone wall and cried.
X
“Absolutely stunning, my dear.” Hester gawked over the gold posy band that Lawrence had given to me. “Does it have an inscription? The one your father gave me said, In love abide till death.”
I had remembered looking at her posy band when I was young and I took mine off to show her the words Lawrence had inscribed on mine, God above increase our love. Hester held her hand over her heart and tears welled in her eyes. “Beautiful, darling. I am ever so happy for you. So how did he propose?”
He took me out to his pavilion and got down on one knee. Taking my hand in his, he told me that he would love and care for me all his life if I would marry him. It was quite lovely, Hester.”
She hugged me with all her might and as I held back my tears I saw Mary walk past. She didn’t come near or even look in my direction, but I know she heard me telling Hester all about the life I was planning with my soon to be husband, Lawrence Braddock.
Knowing that I loved the market as I did, Hester offered to take me there to celebrate. Lawrence and my father decided to join us and we stopped at the Pattersons’ on the way to see if they would also like to come along.
As we made our way to the market, everyone laughed and talked in excitement. The women were discussing wedding ideas and the men spoke of what rums and cigars they would have at the reception. I participated in the talk, but any excitement I showed was uneasily forced. While dwelling on the awful way I had treated Mary, the words she said kept ringing in my mind. “I can never give my heart to another for he holds it with him.”
Now that I knew true love, would it be possible to settle for sense and reason? I found myself entirely recusant to this inevitable wedding day, but there were no answers for escape. What a terrible pirate I would be.
Once we reached the market, the men wandered off in their own direction, leaving Maureen and Hester to busy themselves in the women’s clothing aisle. While they gawked over colorful accessories to accent their lavish dresses, I informed them that I was going to lap the market on my own to dream up some ideas. With a heavy heart I headed on my way.
Walking over towards Misses Meisner’s booth of foreign trinkets, I realized I had not visited my favorite section of the market in over a month. Perhaps I had been experiencing enough foreign excitement in my life at home to keep me busy. As I settled into my stroll, my mind flashed back to the daydreams I used to follow so intently. My heart warmed with long lost memories of my dashing dreams of the sea, tall wooden masts, wind whipping the canvas sails, and the salty wind blowing on my face. Though merely fantasies, the thoughts had been so vivid in my mind that I felt as if I had actually lived the dreams that I held so dear.
Looking through the stock of scented oils, I opened a vile of sandalwood to inhale the scent. The earthy aroma awoke my senses and brought my memories of Sterling back to life. The scent surrounded me like the heat of his breath and the strength of his arms. It suddenly seemed that he was standing before me wearing his long emerald coat, with his cutlass hanging on his side. His golden ponytail was draped over his broad shoulder and I could see his mesmerizing green eyes glistening over the warmth of his smile.