Within A Captain's Power

by Lisa Olech

  “You’re being released.”

  Samantha shook her head. “That’s impossible. You were in the gallery. You heard them pronounce sentence.”

  “Aye, I was in the gallery. I was there when they sentenced you. I was also there when you told the world you were carrying my child.”

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Then you also know I’ll never be allowed to hold my baby in my arms before I’m hauled away to the gallows.”

  “Darling, you’re not listening.” He took a step toward her. “You’re free to go. You and your baby. Our baby. With me.”

  Samantha was sure this was some kind of dream. Any moment she’d awaken and this would all have been some fanciful imagining.

  “I was planning to file your appeal the second after you were sentenced, but it was you who added the perfect final argument to my case.”

  Samantha’s head was still spinning. “What final argument? I don’t understand.”

  “I was fully prepared to cite the fact that you never signed the Ship’s Articles for the Scarlet Night.”

  She shook her head and stood. “But I did.”

  “No, Samantha Christian never signed them. Sam Christian signed those Articles. Sam may have existed, he may have been a member of their crew, he may have even raised a weapon against an English warship, but given the fact Sam Christian, cabin boy, couldn’t possibly be carrying a child, they obviously had the wrong person in custody.”

  “You’re not serious. It couldn’t be that simple.” She clutched the parcel she still held to her chest and started to turn away.

  He pulled a parchment from his pocket. “I have your release right here.”

  Samantha’s knees weakened. James was at her side in an instant, catching her in his arms. He held her tight, talking gently into her hair. “It was bad enough for the magistrate to face the prospect of hanging a woman, but a pregnant woman? A new mother? Leaving an infant alone in the world? Can you imagine the outcry? I knew the situation was tenuous at best. With just the right pressure on just the right person, I knew they’d agree to make this case quietly disappear.”

  “And you? Is that what you’d rather? That I quietly disappear?”

  James tipped her chin and gazed at her. He cupped her cheek and brushed the edge of her lower lip before lowering his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have you in my arms. I’m not about to let you go ever again.” His hand slipped between them and rested on the plane of her stomach. “Not when you carry my child, as well as my heart.”

  “But your future? Your marriage to Lillian? If you’ve done this because of the baby—”

  “The baby is again the perfect final argument to my case.” He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I broke things off with Lillian the day we anchored. Seems she found herself another groom.” He smiled. “It’s you I want to spend the rest of my life with. The fact you’re having my child is like blue skies and fair winds. A blessing on top of a blessing. I promised you I would go all the way to the king if needed to be with you. Turns out I only needed to go as far as the archbishop. That is where my request comes in.”

  Samantha was almost afraid to ask. Afraid to burst the bubble of joy she felt in his arms once again. “What is your request?”

  He slipped the parcel from her grasp and held it up. “Put on this gown so you can marry me.”

  “Marry you?”

  “Archbishop Tenison is elderly and his heart has softened over the years, but he is still not a patient man. He’s waiting to marry us. Tonight.”

  Chapter 30

  Tupper paced her cell. “How much longer we gonna do this?” she yelled. The stones of the walls swallowed the sound. “What’s a person gotta do to get hung around here?” She pounded on the door. “Give me the damn rope, and I’ll do it myself.”

  She slumped along the sidewall and stretched out her legs. Bloody hell. What was taking so long? She’d been before the magistrate. Pled guilty as charged. Told the bastards in the moldy wigs to kiss her lily-white arse and do their duty.

  It had been three days. Was there some kind of debate? Maybe they were considering an alternate to hanging? Drag her through the streets, or burn her at the stake? Draw and quarter her? Tupper dropped her head back against the hard stone and closed her eyes. She didn’t care how they did it, she wished they would get to it. Pacing for what seemed like hours, she felt the dangerous pull of sleep.

  She jumped to her feet and scrubbed a hand over her face. No sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again—Bump being shot in the back. His body jerking with each hit before crashing to the deck. The gruesome scene was fated to haunt her for the rest of her days. She had prayed the “rest” would be counted on one hand.

  Tupper remembered the day she lost Gavin in the earthquake that destroyed Port Royal, Jamaica, all those many years ago. She’d honestly believed that to be the worst day of her life, but she was wrong. Yes, she’d been devastated by the loss of Gavin, but she hadn’t been a witness. She hadn’t had to watch.

  Over the years, she’d imagined the scenario in Port Royal. Gavin would have been sitting in the bar, toasting his good fortune with that drunken bastard, Fin Willie. The two men, having added the White Witch to the growing fleet of Gavin’s ships, would have been well into their cups by the time the disaster struck.

  The earthquake hit so quickly and completely, they wouldn’t have had time to react before the sea reached through the land and dragged everything down to her depths. Tupper always imagined they’d have thought it a grand joke, before realizing it wasn’t. It was the only sliver of comfort she could pull from that fateful day.

  But Bump’s death…there was no comfort to be found there. There would never be. The only comfort would be to join him. Join them both, Bump and Gavin. Of course, she could skip seeing Fin Willie again, but if he was locked with Gavin for all eternity, she’d have to deal with his obnoxious character and hideous choice of clothing.

  She pounded on the door again. “Hey, I have a date with the hangman and I don’t want to keep him waiting.” Surprisingly, the door opened. “Finally.” She held out her arms for the shackles.

  “We’ve not come fer ye. Ye’ve a visitor.”

  “If they don’t have a rope, I’m not interested.” Tupper turned away from the guard. When she turned back, a huge man stood in the doorway. Satined and laced, he wore a wig and silk hose over gold buckled shoes. Tupper snorted and turned away again. “I don’t need some dandy, bloody solicitor.”

  “Good thing I ain’t one.”

  Hold the rudder… Tupper spun around, squinting in the gloom of the cell, not believing her eyes. She scanned the man again from powdered wig to buckled shoes.

  “MacTavish?”

  He held his arms wide. “Ye were expectin’ the Pope?”

  “You’re dead. I saw ye take a bullet.”

  He ran a wide palm over his upper arm. “Just winged me. Damn English prigs couldn’t hit water if they were settin’ in the middle of the Atlantic.”

  “What happened to you?” She swept him from head to toe. “You’re in a fucking wig. And heels no less. No beard? No tartan?” She sniffed. “Ye even smell like a bloody garden.”

  He lifted a sleeve and smelled himself. “Imported rose water. Think it’s fukin’ French.”

  “If ye didn’t still talk like ye climbed out of a Scottish gutter, I’d not have recognized ya.”

  He tugged on his vest. “Don’t it beat all.” He adjusted his trousers. “First time in me life my balls been in dry dock. Not somethin’ I’m fancyin’, I tell ya.”

  “Then why the lace cuffs?”

  “Ye recall me telling ye about that fine English woman I dallied with all those years back?”

  “Father paid ye to take your hairy sporran and get the hell off his daughter.”

  “Aye. Priscilla.” He shrugged. “Guess I left a wee bit of me sporr
an behind.”

  Tupper frowned. “A wee bit?”

  “Left her with me bairn planted in her belly.”

  Tupper swept his appearance again. “And the father’s come fer ye hide, and ye needed a disguise?”

  MacTavish smooth a hand over his satin-covered chest. “I got meself a son.”

  “Still doesn’t explain the lace.”

  “He be a bloody duke. Letters, and land, and rich as me Grandma’s cream cake.” MacTavish started to run a hand through his hair and knocked his wig askew. He tugged it back into place. “Name’s Elliot. Elliot Barnes. Lives here in London. Heard the news the Scarlet’d been captured. Knew all about me from his mum ‘n came to see if there be any news of my whereabouts. Found me in the brig nursin’ my wound.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Aye. Bought me petition without a blink of his eye. Hosed me off and stuck me in these glad rags te get me out te city.”

  Tupper crossed her arms over her chest. She was glad for him. Happy he was alive and would stay that way. Happy he had found family. They’d been friends for more than two dozen years. She was glad he’d finish his days well. “So ye’ve come to say goodbye.”

  “Nay, pulled a string or two te get me in here, and keep the guard’s back turned for a minute or four.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  She snorted and turned away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What? Do ye know what the blood hell yer sayin’?”

  Tupper folded her arms and slid down the wall to sit once more. “I know exactly what I’m saying.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “It’s over for me. My ship’s gone. My…my… Bump’s gone. I’m done. I’ll sit here and wait ‘til they set me swinging.”

  “Yer daft. Come on, time’s wastin.’” He motioned toward the door.

  “I don’t want to go.” She shook her head and crossed one foot over the other.

  MacTavish pulled her up by the back of her collar. “Ye will verra much want te, ye great stubborn stripe-haired bitch, when ye see what I’ve got te show ye. Now move yer sorry arse.”

  * * * *

  Draped in a satin-lined cloak, Tupper followed MacTavish past the guards and out the tower’s front gate. Together they slipped into a handsome coach. A younger man sat within. As soon as the door closed behind Tupper, he wrapped on the ceiling with the silvered cap to his walking stick and the team of four perfectly matched horses took off into the night.

  Tupper pushed the cloak back at MacTavish, and smoothed the hair out of her face. “Where are you takin’ me?”

  “Ye’ll see.”

  “And who are you?” She jerked her chin at the other man. As soon as she asked, she noticed the resemblance. He had the same determined glint in his eye, broad shoulders and stocky build. Even sitting, the man was a mountain—a well-dressed, impeccably appointed mountain. He held out a wide hand to Tupper. “I’m Elliot MacTavish Barnes. Duke of Upton.”

  “And I’m Lady Codfish,” she scoffed. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Behave yerself. He’s bloody gentry. Ye ain’t captain here.”

  “I’m well aware.” She glared at MacTavish. “Answer the question.”

  “Ye’ll ‘ave to forgive her, son. Keep her away from the stank of bilge for more than a week, she gets cranky.”

  Tupper cracked the tension in her neck. She wished once more for a rope. “I do apologize. Where did I leave my manners? I’m Captain Tupper Quinn. While I’m still debating whether or not I’m grateful you dragged me from my comfy prison cell, I’d be most thankful if you would tell me where we are bloody well going.”

  “We’re almost there, Captain. I’m sorry for all the secrecy, but it’s not my custom to break quite so many laws in a single night.”

  After ten minutes and two more turns, the coach finally began to slow. Tupper was the first to step out onto the deserted side road. MacTavish and his son soon joined her. The only light came from the side lanterns of the coach. A low fog crept across the road. Tupper reached for the hilt of her cutlass out of habit. Too bad all her weapons had been confiscated.

  “Where are—”

  Before she could finish her thought, four figures came out of the mist and approached the coach. Tupper straightened her spine, squinting into the dark. MacTavish wouldn’t put her in danger, but a feeling of unease filtered over her none the less. She didn’t care for surprises. After being the one in command for so many years, it was hard to lose her power.

  “Tupper?” A man called out to her. “Is it you?”

  “Who wants to know?” She folded her arms, not quite knowing what to do with her hands.

  A man stepped forward into the light. Unlike MacTavish, with his shaved jaw and fancy satin trousers, this man she recognized at once. “Son of a whore, Ric Robbins.”

  “Tupper Quinn, glad to see your handsome face before they covered ye in tar and hung ye in a birdcage.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” A smaller figure came to stand beside him. “Bloody hell, Jo Beau? I thought you two were on the other side of the Atlantic.”

  “Jo’s father is failing, but still causing trouble. Still cursing your name.” Ric shrugged. “Got mixed up with the Viscount Bolingbroke. We helped escort him to France before the British could stick him in the tower along with the Earl of Oxford. Heard you were there. We figured someone needed to save your sorry hide.”

  Tupper notched her chin. “Nobody asked you to.”

  A third figure stepped into the light. “No, but it was the least we could do. I’ve made it a habit to always pay my debts, and I’ve owed you for far too long. This should make us even.”

  Tupper’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. “Jaxon? Captain Jaxon Steele.” As soon as it registered who he was, Tupper’s gaze slid past him to the last figure to approach. Cloaked, they hung back a few paces, but Tupper already knew who it was. “Bloody hell,” she whispered. Tears pinched the backs of her eyes.

  Annalise stopped and pushed back the hood of the long cloak she wore. “Alice...”

  The next thing Tupper knew, the two were in each other’s arms. Holding tight to a friendship that spanned decades and thousands of miles, yet somehow time and space meant nothing. Annalise.

  “I told him not to tell you he found me,” Tupper murmured into her shoulder.

  “James didn’t tell us. It was Ric. He showed up in Weatherington and told us you were in trouble. I’d almost given up on you being alive. Did you think we would stay away?” Tupper stepped back. Annalise cupped her cheek. The others had moved a few steps back to give the two women space to reunite. “James knows nothing of what Jaxon and I are doing here. With his new commission, the less he knows about this night the better. Besides, he’s busy with his own rescue mission.”

  “He’s a fine man you raised. You should be proud.”

  “We are.” She stroked Tupper’s arms. “Why didn’t you want him to tell us about you?”

  She shrugged, not quite believing the vision of her beautiful Anna standing before her. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Annalise stroked Tupper’s hair the way she used to when the two were children. It tugged at Tupper’s heart. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her best friend. “Of course it matters.”

  Tupper took Annalise’s hands. Even in the dark, the difference between her hands and Tupper’s was significant. “Do you remember when you thought a beautiful gown and gloves for my hands would turn me into a lady?” Tupper lifted Annalise’s hands and kissed the backs of each. “You were forever calling us equals.” She met her gaze and shook her head. “We were never equals. Once I made the decision to become a pirate the difference between our two lives became a chasm too broad to jump. I thought it best you didn’t know what became of me. That you never knew about Alice Tupper Quinn, Pirate Captain. It was better for me to simply disappear. Let’s just say I was saving you from knowing me.”
<
br />   “Seems you’re forever saving me from something.”

  “I love you with all my heart. That’s what friends do.”

  “I love you, too. That’s why I’m here.” Annalise waved a hand to include the rest of the group. “That’s why we’re all here.”

  Jaxon Steele came and slipped a hand around Annalise’s waist. He scanned the group. “Everyone ready? We haven’t much time before they change the watch.”

  Tupper asked once again. “Will someone please tell me what the hell we’re doing?”

  Jaxon slipped his other arm around Tupper’s waist and pulled her along. The others fell into step behind.

  “We’re going to steal a ship.”

  Epilogue

  James kissed a path starting below Samantha’s left earlobe and moved with a desired determination down her neck, along her shoulder, and between the pale tender fullness of her breasts. She whimpered her approval and pushed her fingers into his hair. Her body arched into his touch as she raised one beautifully seductive knee.

  Her skin was still damp from her bath and smelled of warm honey and cream. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive firmed peak of her breast before pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck.

  “James…,” Samantha gave a tiny gasp before sighing into a delighted moan fisting the back of his hair and holding him to her. “I still can’t believe you had Archbishop Tenison marry us in the middle of the night. Poor man had such a nasty cough. I hope he’s well soon. My father nearly fell over when he realized who he was.”

  He raised his head. “Two things I cannot discuss while I make love to my wife are her father and the Archbishop of Canterbury’s cough.”

  Samantha flushed pink and pulled him back for a kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy.”

  “That’s all I ever wanted.” He began his path again. Perhaps her right earlobe this time. He murmured against her skin, “Happy.…” God, she smelled like a garden in the warm sun of summer. “Safe….” He cupped her breast before lowering his mouth again. “Loved….”