In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2)

by Michelle Beattie

  “Let’s get them hidden,” Aidan whispered.

  Grabbing ankles, they dragged the men behind some flowering shrubs. Once they were out of sight, Aidan began searching pockets for the keys. Jacob had them. Wrapping them in his fist Aidan turned to Chunk.

  “Give the signal to the men.”

  While Chunk saw to his task, Aidan looked up at the house. Light glowed behind the curtains of two of the upstairs windows. They would begin there. He turned as the muted footfalls signaled his men were there. Weapons in hand and others gleaming from their sashes, they formed a circle.

  “Remember your positions. No one is to escape through a servant’s door or window. I’ll let you know once the house is ours.” Aidan nodded and eight men dispersed to surround the house.

  Facing the rest he reminded them, “For as long as possible we do this quietly. We get the girl first, as she’ll be our leverage. I’m almost certain Roche isn’t here, but if he is, he is to be left for me. Nobody is to kill him.”

  Satisfied they would follow his orders, Aidan signaled for the rest to follow. Leaning his bow against the pillar—it wouldn’t serve him inside the house—Aidan grasped the door handle. He expected it to be locked and though it didn’t surprise him when it wouldn’t open, it nonetheless annoyed him. Any delay, no matter how small, risked their presence being discovered.

  Without knowing when or if more guards would be coming Aidan shot the first key into the hole. It rattled around but little else. He yanked it out, tried the second. It yielded the same results. Swallowing his irritation, Aidan pushed the third in and was rewarded when it turned and the lock clicked. Pocketing the ring of keys he eased the door open.

  It was dark as a tomb, which was a relief even if he’d expected it at this late hour. Pausing to listen for any sounds other than the night creatures chirping behind him, Aidan stepped into the room. It felt cavernous, and he imagined in full light there would be marble beneath his boots and—

  He spun when he heard the breathing behind him but he was too late. The blow slammed against the side of his skull, stole his breath along with what little vision he’d had. He staggered, was fairly certain he managed to warn his men but he couldn’t be certain if his mouth formed the words or if they were only screaming in his head. Bile rose like a hot fist up his throat. He choked it back even as his hands reached for something, anything, to grab onto.

  “Cap’n?”

  Chunk. Thank God. Aidan grabbed Chunk’s arm and dug in while the room spun and sweat—though he feared it wasn’t only sweat—dripped down his cheek from his temple.

  He sucked in air and managed to wheeze, “Was there only one?”

  “That we know of. The men have scattered, as instructed. Lucky and I can fetch her, Cap’n, give you a few minutes to catch your breath.”

  “No, I’m coming,” he whispered.

  He’d been beaten much worse and while Roche might not be around to witness this, Aidan would be damned if he’d give the villain the satisfaction of having bested him, even if only through one of his guards.

  His head hurt like a thousand demons from hell were gnawing on his brain. He had to clutch Chunk’s forearm while he straightened. The room swirled then came into focus. He saw shapes now, the shadows of furniture, that of the guard lying still on the floor. The sweet smell of blood curled in his nose. Grimacing against the pain, he slid his fingers underneath the black bandana he’d tied around his head and touched his temple. It was as though someone prodded him with a branding iron. Aidan hissed at both the agony and the stickiness coating his fingers.

  “Are you—”

  Aidan dropped his hold, clenched his teeth against the pounding. “Lucky and I’ll get the girl. Chunk, you stay and guard the door. If anyone tries to escape…”

  “I’ll change their mind.”

  Aidan didn’t dare nod, but knowing things were well in hand, he turned for the stairs. Hurt or not, he wanted the house secure and Sarah Santiago as his prisoner.

  *

  Dressed in Sophia’s working garments, with her maid sound asleep in her bed, Sarah blew out the light, grabbed her bag, and stepped quietly into the corridor. She froze.

  Down the stairs a key scraped in the lock. No, it can’t be! Not after all her careful planning and work. Why would her father come a day early? He never came early. But then she heard more scraping and some tinkling as keys slapped together and knew it wasn’t her father struggling to find the right key for the lock.

  It wasn’t the first time an attempt had been made to breach the house but never before had they come this close. Usually Sarah had no idea an attempt had been made until the maids told her over breakfast. Her hands curled into fists. Why tonight? Why tonight of all nights when everything else had gone almost as she’d planned it would? She bit her lip. What should she do? Lock herself in her room? Hide under a bed until they’ve stolen their fill?

  The click of the lock pushed her into action and, on the toes of her shoes, raced to the tall leafy plant in the corner next to the stairs. She slipped behind its wide leaves as the back door opened.

  She could see little and did not dare poke her head out for a better look. She was glad she couldn’t see when she heard a sickening thud, followed by some grappling and the crack of what could only be bone. She pressed a fist to her mouth to keep the revulsion down. Over the blood pounding in her ears, she struggled to hear their whispering, to learn their intent.

  “Lucky and I’ll get the girl. Chunk, you stay and guard the door. If anyone tries to escape…”

  Sarah’s legs turned to water and she nearly fell against the wall before she put all her fear and anger into keeping herself upright. She had not, absolutely had not, come this far to fail now. She would remain where she was—thank goodness they hadn’t lit any lights—until they were gone and then she’d make her escape as planned.

  She held her breath, became absolutely still as the two men climbed the stairs, coming closer and closer to her. She heard their breathing, smelled the sea on their garments. They had only to reach out an arm and they’d have her. It was a wonder they didn’t hear the hammering of her heart or smell the perspiration dampening her brow. One hesitated at the top of the stairs and she feared they had, indeed, found her. Squeezing her eyes shut she prayed, begged, negotiated. Anything to keep her location from being found.

  The waiting was endless. It couldn’t have been more than the span of a few breaths, but Sarah had never felt the time pass any slower. Go, she willed. Just go.

  And then finally, finally, the man moved on. Sarah trembled with relief. Knowing they’d left a guard downstairs, however, she remained still. She would wait until they’d left and then she’d—

  Sophia!

  Sarah closed her eyes, wanted to bow her head though she didn’t dare. She’d been so consumed with thoughts of escape and of not being noticed she’d forgotten about the maid she’d left in her room. Dressed in Sarah’s clothes. Sophia had stirred some as Sarah had switched their clothing, and had, in fact, helped a little before the alcohol had once again dropped her into sleep. But in the end, Sarah had managed it. And now, here she was safe and hidden and dressed as a maid while Sophia lay unaware and helpless, dressed as the woman these men were clearly intent on taking.

  No, no, no, this wasn’t part of the plan! She’d left the note for her father that would ensure Sophia wasn’t punished for what Sarah had done. But never, never, had she anticipated this. Where would they take her? What would they do to her? More importantly, could she live knowing she’d put an innocent at risk, very possibly in harm’s way for her own gain?

  The thoughts spun and churned and then so did her stomach when she heard them coming back, when she dared poke her head around the plant and saw Sophia was thrown over one of their backs like a sack of potatoes.

  “You knock her out, Cap’n?”

  “We had some luck in that she knocked herself out.”

  A door opened. The dining room most likely as the p
arlor doors were usually left open.

  “How many?” the captain asked.

  “Only four.”

  Sarah nearly revealed herself when she whimpered. Did they mean four had been found and were alive, or four were dead?

  “All the rooms checked?”

  “Yes, under the beds and cellar as well.”

  “She was the only one upstairs,” the captain said. “Let’s find out what they know.”

  The dining room door closed behind them and Sarah folded against the wall. Dear Lord what was happening? She’d always known her plan to escape had been risky but she’d never dreamed it would become this nightmare. Who were these men? What did they want? What did they believe the servants could know? Only…

  It wasn’t only servants. They believed she was down there among the staff. And any moment now one amongst them would recognize Sophia. Which meant Sarah had to act fast. Pushing away from the wall she lowered her bag to the floor. Her heart was galloping and her mouth was dry as a day old biscuit but she knew what she had to do. The only way to save Sophia and the others was to run for help. With her stomach tight as a fist, Sarah eased from behind the potted plant and crept down the stairs.

  Chapter Five

  The lights had been lit, revealing they had four prisoners, not counting Sarah. It was an easy number to deal with, especially with his men lined against the wall and blocking the exits. The butler—greying hair and tall, stick-like body which creaked when he sat at the table—the burly guard from outside named Jacob that, if his moans were any indication, was slowly regaining consciousness. There were two maids, one was slight and appeared to be about Sam’s age. Her whole body trembled in her chair. The other, an older plump woman with steel grey hair, sat tall and glowered at Aidan through coal-black eyes.

  Her attitude bothered him little. He was not there to make acquaintances. Bending forward, he set Sarah down into one of the high-backed chairs.

  “What have you done with Sarah?” the butler gasped.

  “She’s drunk and that was not of my doing. She’ll have a raging headache and an upset stomach when she awakens but, otherwise, she is unharmed.”

  The butler pointed a long thin finger at the woman Aidan had set down. “That woman is Sarah’s maid, Sophia. Where is Sarah?”

  The others, he had to give them credit for their acting ability, all seemed as concerned. He was about to argue he wasn’t going to fall for any ruse, since no maid would dress in such a fine gown, even one with a recent stain, and sleeping in her mistresses bed when he had a feeling, nothing more than a nagging at the back of his brain. If the man was lying it would take little more than another search of the house to prove him so. But if he wasn’t…

  “Lucky, Jack, Billy, grab a candlestick. Recheck every corner of this house, this time with the aid of light. Chunk, you and the others ensure these don’t give us any trouble.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Taking a light for himself, Aidan pushed open the dining room door. He’d check upstairs. His head had been pounding so badly before it was possible he’d missed something. Besides, he’d thought he’d had the right woman, so he didn’t look further than he needed to.

  Stepping into the foyer, seeing the partially open front door, Aidan knew immediately the butler hadn’t lied, not entirely. He was still convinced Sarah sat drunk in the other room but clearly someone else had been in the house and now they’d escaped.

  Aidan blew out the candle and tossed it over his shoulder as he raced for the door. Even as he reached for the bow he’d left leaning against the pillar, he saw her tumble over the gate and onto the sand.

  “You there!” he called. “Stop!”

  She spun, gasped, and promptly ignored him as she raced away from the house.

  With his bow in hand Aidan ran across the yard, took a running leap at the gate. In two steps he’d climbed it and was dropping over the other side.

  She was running, of course she was, but the sand and her long skirt impeded her progress. Still, she was wise enough not to cut a direct path and veered side to side in the moonlight. Well, it would make it trickier, but what was life without a challenge? At least the moon was in his favor. It reflected off the white sand and her white maid’s bonnet, making her an easy, visible target.

  He took an arrow from his quiver, notched it and raised the bow. Drawing the bowstring back, he looked down the length of the arrow. When she angled left he flicked his fingers and released it. It snapped into the trunk of the palm not two feet from her face.

  She squealed, but it didn’t slow her pace. Steadily marching forward, Aidan readied another arrow. Without breaking stride, he let it fly. This one dug into the sand next to her foot. She screamed, spun, tangled in her skirts and staggered. Only a flailing of arms kept her balance.

  He reached back for another arrow. He’d shoot this one closer. She had little hope of getting away and the sooner she accepted the fact the better. Even as his fingers grasped the arrow he slowed his pace, frowned. She wasn’t escaping. Indeed, she’d turned to face him and simply stood there, hands at her side as he approached.

  Aidan slid the arrow back into its quiver. He wasn’t fooled; nobody surrendered so easily. But he was proficient with his bow and if she attempted another dismal escape, he’d have an arrow flying before she reached full stride. And, failing that, he did have a pistol tucked into his sash. He may not want the noise and attention a shot would attract, even at this late hour, but he wasn’t above resorting to it to ensure he achieved his goal.

  With one hand on the bow, he rested his other on the pistol at his waist. Aidan stopped before the maid. His body tensed as he took in her features. Her face was softer, rounder than Roche’s but the shape of the eyes, the same large oval, was enough to convince him the butler had not been lying after all.

  He was looking into the eyes of Roche’s daughter.

  Had the butler not said anything…

  “Sarah Santiago, I presume?”

  She raised her chin.

  His lip curled. Defiance wasn’t going to save her now. “The quieter and easier you come with me, the better it will be for you.” He let the implied threat hover and took her nod as affirmation she agreed. Aidan took a step closer, grasped her arm. He caught the glint of silver as she whipped an object from behind her back. He blocked the blow easily enough then twisted her wrist until the candlestick sunk silently into the sand.

  Already short on patience, Aidan gave her a hard jolt. She was tall for a woman and he only had to tip his head down to look her in the eye. “You were warned.” He growled as he once again gripped his pistol.

  Her eyes went round. “But I don’t know who you are or what you want with me! I would have to be mad not to try to escape!”

  Aidan raised a brow. “Are you warning me you’ll be trying again? That’s a foolish declaration when your captor has both pistol and arrow.”

  Her shoulders fell. “I only had the one weapon. As I value my life, I can assure you I will not be trying another escape.”

  Aidan scoffed. “You are mad if you think I will accept your word as truth.”

  She raised her arms and turned a slow circle. “I’ve no weapon. If you need further convincing you can search for yourself.”

  Another game, he thought with a scowl. Granted, in her maid’s attire she was hardly dressed to seduce but to invite a stranger’s touch? He might not have been raised as a gentleman, but he knew no respectable lady would invite such a thing. But then, she was Roche’s daughter. And like her father, was not above any means to get what she wanted.

  Knowing those facts, however, didn’t stop his gaze from skimming over the plain grey gown and white apron she wore. Nor did it stop him from noticing the lush, firm breasts pressing against the bodice.

  And damn his traitorous body for stirring. This wasn’t any woman; this was Roche Santiago’s daughter.

  “I’ll not be fooled into seduction.” He glowered. “And you’ll be wise to remember th
at.”

  “Seduction!” she sputtered. “I was merely stating you could see for yourself I had no other weapons.”

  “So you claim.” With a firm grip on her arm, and the other on his bow, Aidan marched down the beach. Though she made no move to escape, she nevertheless plagued him with questions.

  “Why won’t you tell me who you are? What do you want with me? Where are you taking me? How do you know who I am?”

  Damn it, next time Chunk offered to give chase, he wouldn’t argue with the man. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he answered.

  The maid remained slumped over in her chair, her head on the dining room table when Aidan entered with Sarah. Every pair of eyes locked onto him, the old maid stiffened further—though Aidan hadn’t believed it were possible. The only sound in the room was Sophia’s gentle snoring. Aidan released Sarah with a slight push toward one of the high-backed chairs.

  “Sit and stay there.” His eyes raked over Sarah before moving onto the other captives. “The same is true for all of you. The more you cooperate, the easier it will be on all of you.”

  “You are thieves, then? Intent on robbing us?” the butler asked, looking down his beak-like nose as he would at common rats.

  Aidan glared. The man worked for the vilest pirate in the Caribbean and he had the gall to look down on him?

  “It’s nothing as simple as silver and gold, I assure you.”

  “How can we be expected to cooperate if we know nothing of who you are or what you are after?”

  Aidan fixed his eyes on Sarah’s. “I’ll tell you what I’m after, your father.”