“Tolly, see to it a fair amount is set aside for Miss Armistead.” A wave of discontent marked almost half of the swabs, while others nodded in agreement, thus Turner gripped the butt of his flintlock pistol. “If anyone disagrees, he is free to stay here, and that is the last I will hear of it.”
“Cap’n, the final party is just arrived on the beach.” Tolly shifted his weight.
“Good.” Turner raked his hands through his hair. “Get them aboard, get everything stowed, and get us out of here.”
Riding a crest of ire, he made quick work of the companion ladder and strode down the passage that led to Rose’s cabin. At the oak panel, he knocked.
“Who is there?” she inquired.
“Captain Reyson.” When the latch creaked, he pushed open the door and halted, when Rose pressed a finger to her lips, to quiet him. In a low voice, he said, “I wanted you to know that we had no trouble, and you are free to move about the ship.” He considered withholding information in regard to the treasure, but he realized he could not lie to her. “And you spotted a veritable fortune in gold doubloons, which has been divided, and we included you in the shares.”
“Why?” Her response, uttered with nary a hint of emotion, struck Turner as a punch between the eyes. “I have no need of it, as my family is better off than most.”
“You mean you do not want the gold, because it is a decent sum?” His ears rang, at the prospect. “You cannot use it?”
“I wager you and your men have a greater need.” She peered over her shoulder, stepped into the corridor, and pulled the door shut. “Mama sleeps, and I would not disturb her, but I am anxious to know of the find. It pleased you?”
“Very much.” She spotted an ample fortune and wanted no part of it. Her only concern was that she pleased him. Had he thought he wanted her? He could have hauled her into his quarters, ripped her garb from her shapely body, and plundered the treasure between her thighs, for a fortnight, and still it would not have been enough for him. With the backs of his knuckles, he trailed the curve of her delicate jaw. “Join me on deck, this evening. We can watch the sunset, together.”
“I would love that, but I am not sure my mother would approve.” Closing her eyes, she leaned into his palm, and he could not stop himself from kissing her.
It was not the first time Turner stole a boon from a woman, but it was the most powerful, and he could not even begin to fathom why he enjoyed the moment, until Rose sighed, caressed his cheek, and leaned into him. With tantalizing flicks of his tongue, he beckoned, and she opened to him.
Walking his fingers along her hips, he cupped her bottom and savored her sultry moan, as he intensified their exchange. When the long cannon in his breeches prepared to fire, he set her apart from him and backed to the wall.
“Would your mother approve of that?” He chuckled, to dispel the tension in his loins. “Blast my deadlights, but you are a prime piece.”
“A prime piece?” Rose tugged on his sleeve, and he admired her kiss-swollen lips. What he would give to have her mouth wrapped about his whore’s pipe. “What does that mean?”
“It means I cannot resist you, sweet lady.” He caught her hand in his and licked the flesh between her thumb and her finger. “Meet me on deck. Promise you will come to me. The devil take your mother.”
“I beg your pardon.” Her eyes widened, as her brows furrowed. “That is not a nice thing to say about my mother, when she has done naught to you.”
“It is just a manner of speech.” Telltale warmth flooded his chest and spread to his limbs, and he ached to hold her. No matter the price, he vowed, then and there, to claim her most intimate prize, before the voyage ended. “But you will not disappoint me, will you?”
Hugging herself, she shook her head. “No.”
Ah, victory had never been so satisfying.
“Until later, lady mine.” Bowing, he caught her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I look forward to our rendezvous.”
To his surprise, she said nothing, just curtseyed and fled to her cabin. Turner clucked his tongue and rotated on a heel—and stopped. In the passage, young Clinton loomed, with arms folded and a potent scowl.
“Stay away from my sister, Captain Reyson.” The scamp’s nostrils flared, as he lifted his chin and bared his teeth. “I do not know what you are about, but I know you are up to no good.”
“You know nothing, little codfish. And have care how you speak to me, as I do not take kindly to insults.” Turner grabbed the scamp by the back of his collar, opened the door to Clinton’s chamber, and thrust him inside the room. “Get in your hammock, before you faint, because you are as white as a sheet.”
“Unhand me, sir.” Clinton jerked free and fell to the floor. “If my father were here—”
“But he is not, so you will do as I command, while you are aboard my ship.” In one fell swoop, he scooped up the lad and flung him, none too gently, into the hammock. “Next time you slight me, I will throw you overboard, and you may swim to Charles Town.”
That ought to put the younger Armistead in his place.
Turner stormed from the cabin, slamming shut the door in his wake. Then he smiled. He had an important appointment to keep, and nothing and no one would deter him from his goal. He would be patient. He would entice. He would lure the irresistible Rose, and when he had her under his influence, he would devour her.
IN THE FORTNIGHT since departing Port Royal, Mama and Clinton spent much of the journey in their cabins, as they were too weak from the sickness, to venture on deck. Once Clinton recovered his strength, nothing could keep him from exploring every aspect of sea life. What troubled Rose was her brother’s open disdain for Turner.
For some reason she could not discern, Clinton treated the captain with contempt, in full view of the crew, and she knew not how to resolve the situation. To act as peacemaker, she spent much of her days distracting the captain, which distracted her.
“Mama, if you are comfortable, and you need nothing, I will join Clinton at the stern.” At the washstand, she tucked a curl behind her ear and smoothed a few stray strands of hair. “I shall return for the noon meal.”
“Rose, I do not want you to go up there.” Mama sat at the small table, where they dined, and sipped a cup of tea. “You are spending too much time in the sun, and you are ruining your complexion. And those men, excepting Captain Reyson, are not good company. I wager they are not out in society.”
“But I thought you liked the captain.” Rose recalled numerous tedious discussions of marriage and wealthy husbands. “And you did say he would make an excellent beau.”
“Has he made you an offer?” Before Rose could answer, Mama clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, just think of it. We could hold an autumn wedding, and you would be the wife of a sea captain. If only your father were here.”
“Mama, I am sorry to disappoint you, but Captain Reyson has expressed no such interest.” Much to Rose’s dismay, given she spent every evening with Turner, watching the sunset on the horizon. And then there were his kisses, often bestowed in the shadows of a narrow passage, which always left her wanting more, only she did not know what ‘more’ meant. “And I am not certain this is an opportune moment to wed, given we should observe a period of mourning for Papa and for Ephraim, as I would honor them, once we dock in Charles Town.”
“Of course, we will mourn them.” Mama sniffed and fumbled for her handkerchief. “But you must think of your future, unless you plan to marry Harold Mortimer. You father opened negotiations for your union, prior to our departure for Spain.”
“Mama, I am sorry if you think me disobedient, and I am not trying to be willful, but I have intention of wedding Harold Mortimer. He prefers lace at his cuffs, and he is far too preoccupied with my fashions for my comfort. Indeed, he is not for me.” Rose all but stomped to the door. With the oak panel ajar, she half-stepped into the corridor. “Worry not, as I will find my own way, once we are home.”
In a fit of high dudgeon, she ran acro
ss the lower deck and scrambled up the companion ladder. At the rail, Clinton held up some strange contraption, as he talked with Tolly. She should have inquired after his health, even though he appeared in fine fettle. In truth, she did not seek her brother. The man who snared her attention stood with the helmsman, and she smiled when Turner waved.
Fighting the urge to dash to his side, she strolled, nodding greetings to various sailors.
“Are you feeling lucky today, Miss Armistead?” The somewhat coarse quartermaster shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, I do not know, Mr. Allen.” The nearby crewmen leaned in her direction, as if they hung on her words. “But I was just going to station myself with Captain Reyson, in hopes of spotting some sort of find.”
“May I help you up the companion ladder, Miss Armistead?” Eastman doffed his hat. One of the older salts, he always treated her with kindness, and she liked him.
“Thank you, Mr. Eastman.” She accepted his escort, and he held her by the elbow, as she ascended the first few rungs.
“Good morning, Miss Armistead.” As usual, when she approached, Turner bent and lifted her the rest of the way, and he addressed her formally in the presence of his men. It was only in private that he used her given name. “I trust you slept well?”
“I did, Captain.” Of course, she lied, because the memory of his kisses kept her awake most of the night. What bothered her was his underlying temperament. While their exchanges inspired so many sensations, and she could not contain her excitement, he seemed altogether unmoved, which she found insulting. Was she nothing to him? “And you?”
“Never better.” With his hair pulled back, and wearing a velvet coat, he could pass for a respectable gentleman of means, in Charles Town. With his arm at her waist, he ushered her to the stern rail. “So, who is Harold Mortimer?”
“I beg your pardon?” A nagging heaviness settled in the pit of her belly. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Mama?”
“I might have been passing by your cabin and overhead something.” When he assumed a rigid posture, she narrowed her stare. “It is late, and I wondered why you had not shown a leg, when you share the sunrise with me at every dawn.”
“Were you worried about me?” Anger turned to exhilaration, and she bounced on her toes. “Did you think me ill?”
“Well, your family was sick.” He exhaled and scowled. “The conclusion is not unreasonable, and it gave me cause for concern.”
“Because you care about my wellbeing.” It was a statement, not a question, and she dared him to deny her assertion. “Do you not, my Captain?”
“Your captain?” He snorted. “I am my own man.”
“That is not an answer, sir.”
“It is the only one you are getting.”
“Why?” She reached for his hand and twined her fingers in his. “Of what are you afraid?”
“Nothing.” He jerked loose. “And certainly not some pampered princess from Charles Town.” Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on the rail. “I never should have brought you aboard my ship.”
“Is that how you really feel?” Confused and more than a little hurt by his outburst, she retreated a step. “Because I can return to my quarters, if my presence offends you.”
“No.” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Stay.” He pulled her close, positioning her between him and the rail, and moved to stand behind her. With his tongue, he teased the crest of her ear, and she shivered. “Please, Rose. Come to me, in my cabin, tonight.”
“What for?” She closed her eyes and dropped back her head, as he nuzzled her neck.
“You know what for.” As he hugged her, he grazed her breasts, which she suspected was no accident. “And do not try to tell me you do not desire me, as I desire you.”
“I am sorry, Captain, but I cannot do that.” She yelped, when he rotated her to face him. “I have already stretched the limits of polite decorum, and we are not married. I have no assurances that you would guard my virtue, if I agreed to a private meeting in your cabin, and nothing good could come of such an appointment, as we have no understanding.”
“Oh, I disagree.” His smile, pure wolf, inspired a host of images she could not contain, and she wondered just how far his sun-kissed flesh extended. “Do you recall what you told me, last night, as we admired the moonlight dancing on the waves? You claim to covet a free and easy life, yet when I offer you a taste, you decline.”
“It is not that I decline, Captain.” His arched brow declared his displeasure, and she leaned against the rail. “Turner, I cannot pretend that your invitation does not tempt me, because it does. And I did not lie, when I said I want to live as I see fit, but I would not have you ruin me, and it is not because I have a beau waiting at home. It is because I would come to my future husband, whomever that might be, as an honest and pure wife. I love the sea, and I favor your world, but I want a family, too. I suppose the question I must pose is whether or not that appeals to you and what you are willing to accept.”
“Once again, you open negotiations, Miss Armistead.” In a single stride, he closed the distance between them, shielding her from prying eyes, and stared down his nose at her. It was an attempt at intimidation, and it worked, because she could not resist him, when his sandalwood scent tickled her nose. “What do you want?”
“What do you extend?”
“My long cannon, which is primed, even now.” To emphasize his point, he thrust his hips to hers, and it was then she discovered his meaning. While she was not experienced in the ways of physical attraction, she knew the anatomy, and she almost swooned, but he held her upright. “Easy, Rose. I will not take you here.” He chuckled. “But now that we understand each other, I promise this. I will show you pleasure such as you have never known, and will carry our secret to my grave. How can you be compromised, when no one knows you did the deed?”
“I would know, and that is what matters.” Still, he piqued her interest, but she clung to the hope that he might consider her something more than what he suggested. If only Mama had not posited Turner as a viable suitor. “Have you no conscience?” As she gave her attention to the sky, she peered into the distance. “Turner, I believe there is a ship in our wake.”
“What?” He jolted alert and released her. From the waistband of his breeches, he retrieved a spyglass, which he extended. “Hell and the Reaper, it is the plague o’ the seas.” To the helmsman, Turner said, “Murtaugh, set a speed course for that island.” Then her captain shouted, “All hands about ship! Crowd that canvas.”
“What is it?” She gulped. “What is wrong?”
“It is…pirates.” Turner glanced at Murtaugh and hauled Rose down the companion ladder, to the waist, where the crew scrambled into the rigging. “It is pirates, and we must run like smoke n’ oakum, unless you wish to tangle with a band of cutthroats.”
“Oh, no.” At the mere suggestion, she trembled.
“Cap’n, why do we alter our tack?” Mr. Allen asked.
“We have the plague o’ the seas in our wake.” Turner shifted his gaze from Rose to the quartermaster. “So we make for the island.”
“We will never reach the other side, before they are on us, and they will have us by the hip.” Lowering his spyglass, Mr. Allen shook his head. “We should come about and bear down with ports open.”
“Not a chance.” Turner bared his teeth.
“Why can we not take refuge in that inlet?” Rose pointed for emphasis. “There, among the trees, to the right of the promontory, where the waves break.”
“What inlet?” Turner’s mouth fell agape, as he again raised his spyglass. “Well burn and blast my bones, Miss Armistead is correct.”
“Our Lady of Fortune saves us.” Mr. Allen scratched his temple and shuffled his feet. “And we have no time to spare.” To the crew, the quartermaster commanded, “Lively, men.”
“Should I go below?” She inhaled a shaky breath, when Turner caressed her cheek, and over his shoulder she spotted Clinton, staring
daggers at her. “Or may I stay with you?”
“Stay, forever, if you want.” Turner tugged on a lock of her hair. “Just stay.”
“Is that a proposal?” Rose held her breath.
“Uh—no.” He compressed his lips. “I revisit our negotiation, as you never gave me your answer.”
She should have refused him. Should have lectured him on honor and duty. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “I am considering your offer.”
Chapter Four
A HOWLING GALE marked a full month at sea, as Turner loomed at the bowsprit, and the rain abated. The Malevolent pitched and rolled beneath his feet, and he savored the wild ride. If only he could say the same for Rose, but she did not appear on deck during rough weather, much to his disappointment, so he settled for recollections of her charming, if less than successful, attempts to bend him to her will. While he wanted her, and he would pay almost any price to have her, he had no intentions of marrying her. It was fortunate that she wanted him, and he could not ignore the longing in her blue eyes, whenever she looked at him. Soon, he would take her to his cabin.
“Cap’n, might we have a word with you?” Eastman stood at the fore, with Allen, Tolly, and Murtaugh at the rear, and Turner braced for an argument, the heart of which he suspected he knew well. “The crew has been talking, ever since Miss Armistead spotted that British naval ship, as well as the inlet that helped us avoid action.”
“She is our Lady of Fortune, Cap’n.” Tolly adopted a defensive posture, which was surprising for the usually loyal first mate. “She saved our necks, she found treasure, and we mean to keep her.”
“I know that, but we are not having this discussion.” To delay and calm his nerves, Turner gathered his hair and tied it back with a leather thong. “I know what you want, and I am working on it. Believe me, I want Rose to remain aboard ship as much, if not more, than you, but I would have it by her request. Not by force.”
“How do you plan to achieve that?” With an unmistakable leer, to which Turner would have taken exception under more advantageous circumstances, Allen jutted his hip. “And our scheme does not include the mother or the brat, because they are useless. I would prefer to throw them overboard.”
Pirates of Britannia Boxed Set Volume One: A Collection of Pirate Romance Tales Page 4