The Curse [Legend of Blackbeard's Chalice Book 1]

by Maddie James

  He crowded her. “And the roosting was rather nice, remember?"

  Claire gagged.

  His finger played around her lips. “Now, I asked you a question. Did ye sleep well?"

  "Like a baby,” she returned sarcastically. “You?"

  He dropped his hand from her chin to trail his fingers down her neck, placing them in a choking hold around the slender column. His gaze met hers and pinned her there. She swallowed and tried to take a breath, but not without gasping at the pain of constriction. Just when she thought he might choke her to death, he lowered his hand to her bosom. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer.

  Claire tried to step back.

  He crowded her again. “Not really. But I'll sleep better tonight. I always sleep well on me wedding night."

  Watching the corner of his mouth turn up between the coarse hairs of his mustache and beard, she grew nauseous again.

  Wedding night?

  Slowly, she scanned the crowd. The men were waiting for her reaction. It was obvious to them—she was the only woman on board the ship and the crew had probably been this route before. Blackbeard, if she remembered her history correctly, had collected at least fourteen wives—and had never once obtained a divorce. Needless to say, his track record wasn't great. She dared not even think about what had happened to each of them. If Blackbeard was getting married, then she was top choice.

  Much to her dismay.

  Not backing down an inch, she returned his stare and said sweetly, “When hell freezes over."

  She heard the chuckle start low in his abdomen, rumble past his diaphragm, flow into his lungs and then spill out of his mouth in a fit of thunderous laughter that shook the very deck of the ship.

  "Pigeon, ye jest so, but it's a trifle unsettling for me wife to speak such things. We'll have a talk tomorrow. After the consummation."

  He turned from her and walked away.

  "I'll not marry you, you son-of-a-whore. There will be no marriage to consummate."

  He froze and all motion appeared to cease. Even the waves stopped, and she didn't doubt for one moment that he held the power to control even that. Perhaps even the earth stopped rotating on its axis, she couldn't be sure. When he spun back to her, she saw the anger steaming from him, his face red with rage. Then he determinedly stepped forward until he reached her.

  When he did, she quickly backed up step for step until she found herself shoved against one of his crew. The pirate held her in place with his arms wrapped securely around her upper body. Blackbeard pressed against her in a most indecent manner, his face only centimeters from hers.

  "Ye'll do as I say."

  "I won't."

  "Ye will, wench. Or I'll be done with ye."

  "Then so be it."

  He glared at her. Claire wondered if a woman had ever bucked him before. “Ye know what your saying, lass?"

  "I know that whatever consequence you hand out to me has got to be better than screwing the likes of you,” she spat back.

  As he raised his hand, she felt the other man's grip tighten around her shoulders. When the sting of his slap had sufficiently rung her ears and tossed her head to one side, he dropped his hand. Claire breathed deeply and then exhaled, refusing to cry, vowing not to show this imbecile that she hurt. No, she would never show him that she hurt.

  After a moment, she raised her head and met his gaze with glassy eyes. She grit her teeth. He simply watched for her reaction. She balled up her courage and spat directly into his face.

  An uneasy silence settled over the ship. Blackbeard did not flinch.

  "Twenty lashes. The cat."

  Within seconds, she was grabbed and turned face first into the outer wall of the captain's quarters. Ropes were slid over her wrists and tightened. Horror filled her as she realized what was happening. He'd have her beaten! My God, she was actually going to be beaten!

  Her stomach began to rumble and the few bites of gruel she'd eaten an hour or so earlier suddenly didn't want to stay in one place. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the ugly pirate, the look on his face too much like pleasure. She saw him nod to another and he stepped up from behind, grasped the back of her chemise, and ripped it cleanly down to the top of the corset.

  Her eyes closed. Even though the morning was cool and there was a slight breeze wafting over the ship, she was hot. Sweat poured from her pores and ran down the sides of her face. Oh, please no. Let this be a dream.

  Wake up now, Claire.

  She opened her eyes and flinched as she felt the whip lash through the air just behind her back. The ugly snap resonated in her ear. She didn't dare to think what it would feel like as it ripped against her skin. She didn't even want to think about what it would sound like slicing through her flesh. She hoped it wouldn't cut her too deep.

  Hoped it wouldn't lay open flesh and muscle and expose the bone.

  Hoped that before the pain got too severe, she'd mercifully pass out into unconsciousness.

  "Pigeon!"

  She jerked her attention once more to the evil giant as he stood to her side.

  "Marry me, pigeon,” he growled. “Be me wife and me lover and promise your servitude to me forever, and we'll forget this."

  She mentally tried to weigh the lesser of the two evils. Marriage to the scoundrel and eventual rape, or twenty lashes with a whip.

  Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

  The choice was easy.

  "Rot. In. Hell.” She spat back.

  The chuckle started once more. “I plan to, pigeon."

  She watched as he nodded to the pirate behind her. She turned her face forward and lowered her chin to her chest. She'd not let them see her pain.

  A small tear squeezed from one eye as she heard the slice of the whip when it backlashed high into the air. She felt the snap against her back as it did ... and she waited for the pirate's arm to whip back down again, the stinging slash across her back.

  She braced herself.

  Waited.

  "I think that's about enough."

  Claire bolted at the familiar voice and tried to turn her body toward it. A yellow-haired pirate had slipped forward and stopped the other's arm from descending, his fingers encircling the man's wrist, preventing the first lash from crossing her back.

  Blackbeard roared his protest.

  "Let her go."

  The pirate's gaze held Blackbeard in his place. The man seemed reduced to indifference and stood fixed in his spot. The pirate walked determinedly toward him and the two spoke quietly for a moment. Then Blackbeard offered a slight nod, growled, and stalked away from the scene. She was totally confused.

  She twisted and struggled to look behind her. Someone released the ropes from her wrists and she fully faced the man who saved her.

  Shoving the hair back out of her eyes, she ignored the confusion of the scene she'd just witnessed and wondered why Blackbeard hadn't crossed this man standing before her.

  He stood there, baggy pants, no shirt, scruffy beard and shaggy hair. A scarf was tied around his head, a pistol at his side, and nothing on his feet. She almost didn't recognize him, and probably wouldn't have had it not been for his eyes, and the small hoop earring in his ear.

  Her earring.

  He grinned and then winked. Claire only stared back, her chin dropping to her chest. She didn't know whether to kiss him, or kick him in the nuts and run.

  Rick.

  * * * *

  "How dare ye affront me before me crew!"

  Blackbeard roared the protest in the privacy of his cabin, hurling the words at Rick. Claire watched and listened from the berth, knowing his words weren't hidden from anyone on the ship. In fact, this entire scenario was probably played out simply for the crew's benefit, and for Blackbeard to save face.

  Did Rick know what he was up against?

  She curled into a ball against the ship's wall.

  Rick stepped forward and she was astonished at his courage. Something was terribly amiss. He didn't even
look like Rick.

  "You have forgotten that I know things,” he shot back with a sinister grin.

  "And what is it ye know that I do not?"

  "He will come for her."

  Blackbeard swirled his body toward Claire and then in an instant stopped. “I know that. He came before, he will come again."

  "I want him as badly as you."

  She arched a brow. What?

  Blackbeard chuckled and sidled a glance at Rick. “Ye do? And why do ye want him, laddie? Has the wench wronged you as well? She's a nice little piece, but are you willing to risk your own life at the revenge of another just to have her?"

  Rick lifted his jaw and stared into the pirate's eyes. “She was mine long before she was his, or yours. I want her. And I want him dead."

  Terror ripped through her soul. “No,” she whimpered. “Rick, no. You're taking this too far. Do you realize what you're saying? You can't kill Jack."

  "Shut up! You'll not speak unless you're spoken to, woman.” Rick brushed past Blackbeard and stepped closer to her. After a moment of staring into her face, he reached out and cupped her chin in his hand.

  She lifted her face to stare back defiantly. “Don't do this, Rick. Don't."

  He leaned closer and peered deeper. “I will. And then you will be mine, again. I will cut him into bits and feed him to the sharks. And you, Claire, will have nothing to say about it, or you might just follow him. You made a big mistake leaving me, and he's going to pay the price for your indiscretions.” An evil laugh gurgled up from within him. Repulsed by his actions, she jerked her chin from his grasp.

  "It won't happen,” she hissed, then spat in his face.

  He held her gaze for a moment and then lifted his sleeve to swipe at his chin. “It will."

  Blackbeard stepped beside Rick and she shifted her gaze. There wasn't much difference between them, she realized. One was about as ruthless as the other. Blackbeard reached out and squeezed her cheeks between his grimy fingers. “I'll thank ye not to offer your opinion, woman. Ye've been told to be quiet. If a man wants to hear ye speak, he'll ask for it."

  "You'll hear me speak, you slimy bastard, when I choose to speak. And I'll offer any opinions or advice I want.” She braced herself for the backlash.

  He thrust her backward, her head cracking against the ship's wall. She grimaced. His yellow-eyed glare bit into her.

  "And what advice would the likes of ye have to offer a man like me? How to woo a comely chit like yourself into me chamber night after night?"

  Looking Blackbeard over, there was only one piece of advice that came to mind. “Advice? I'll give you advice. Go eat oranges, you mangy bastard. No comely chit like myself would go willingly into a bed with your scurvied hide."

  Abruptly, the pirate flung himself backward and turned to Rick.

  "We'll return to Teach's Hole, just off the island of Ocracoke on the sound side. He'll be laying in wait, as before. Only this time, we'll be ready. I long to get me hands on the man who tried to take away me manhood."

  Slowly, his head rotated back to stare at Claire. “And if I can't put him in the dark depths of the sea, by God I'll rip his balls from him and feed them to the monsters of the deep.” His gaze bored into hers. “Then you'll have not a man in your chamber to go to night after night, wench. Perhaps then you'll think of willingly coming to a whole man like meself."

  He grumbled his laughter and the walls of his quarters quaked.

  "A whole man?” she chided. “Hmmm ... that's not what I heard. Rumor has it you might have some missing parts."

  The laughter stopped. His yellow eyes shot across the dusk-dark room. Her mouth, once more, was going to get her into trouble.

  He lunged but Rick stepped between the two of them. And like a deflated balloon, the giant pirate disappeared up the steps to the deck.

  Rick turned. “I've seen to your safety on this ship, Claire. No one will touch you. I am powerful, you see. But I fully expect your cooperation."

  And with that, he left her, too.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Nothing to be done. Eden's up to his neck in it."

  "Eden's getting too much of the goods, if you ask me,” a gruff voice flung out.

  "And Tobias Knight looks out for no one save himself."

  "They are all in it together, you know.” The man lifted a tankard to his lips and threw back the contents.

  "We've no choice but to fight the bastard ourselves,” someone shouted out from the back of the tavern.

  "And have him seek revenge on our plantations and our merchant's ships?” A small squeaky voice piped in.

  "And plunder our women?"

  A series of shouts were flung about and heads nodded in agreement.

  "Our lives are at stake, here. He will burn us to the ground if we cross him,” a worried voice insisted.

  "We can't cross him."

  "We must."

  "We need help. We can't do it alone."

  "We've got to do something."

  "He rifled my boat to the bare boards and stole my mother's silver!” The man pounded the table before him, tankards filled with drink jumping into the air, splashes of liquor sprinkling the table. “We cannot sit here any longer."

  "He took liberties with my only daughter!” Another stood to the forefront of the group and shook his fist in the air.

  "He has my wife."

  The darkened room sat still with a hushed silence as all eyes searched through the murky haze of tobacco and oil smoke for the man who belonged to the last anxious voice.

  Jack Porter stepped through the crowded tavern to the center of the gathering. Slowly glancing about the room, from man to man, he stood before them, weighing the situation at hand. “I want my wife back.” Then he quickly scanned the room, making eye contact with every man there.

  He felt their sympathy. Each of them had suffered losses to Blackbeard. He was not alone. He prayed they would support him. He continued speaking and they listened intently.

  "Governor Eden will not cross Blackbeard. Tobias Knight, we know, will not cross him either. There is too much to gain from their current arrangement, but we have got to stop this pillaging,” he said calmly.

  "And how do you propose we do that, kind sir?” another challenged.

  Jack swallowed hard and eyed the man standing meekly at the edge of the crowd. “I propose we go to Virginia and enlist the support of Alexander Spotswood."

  "Spotswood?” Jack heard the name murmur and ripple throughout the crowded room.

  "Yes,” Jack replied. “Governor Alexander Spotswood."

  * * * *

  Alexander Spotswood sat back in his chair and listened intently to the conversation around him. The delegation from the Carolina province had wasted no time acquainting the governor with their grievances, and Spotswood listened with noncommittal interest. It was not the first time he'd heard such complaints.

  "The situation as it stands on the Pamlico Sound is rapidly deteriorating, sir. We simply cannot go on any longer. We are in dire need of assistance,” William Smythe instructed the governor.

  "And if I might add, sir, he is practicing utter disregard for the amnesty granted under the King's proclamation,” one of the planters added.

  "Let me present the affidavit, sir, from one of the inhabitants of the province. As you can see, Teach's insolent behavior is clearly documented."

  Spotswood leaned forward, read the affidavit, and nodded his agreement.

  "And then there is the business about Governor Eden and Tobias Knight.” Jack Porter stepped forward then to face Governor Spotswood. “Besides the pillaging and plundering up the entire Carolina coast and then some, Teach, just in the past few weeks, ransacked and captured a French vessel laden with sugar, sweetmeats, cotton, and cocoa. It is rumored, sir, that Tobias Knight and Eden were delivered goods from that cargo in exchange for papers stating the vessel had been wrecked at sea. And then, Eden granted Teach permission to b
urn the ship with the intent to block the Ocracoke channel. As you may know, Governor, the inlet there is of much importance to the passage of vessels through the Pamlico Sound to the mainland. Some of which will venture north to Virginia."

  Spotswood straightened in his chair and eyed the man who stood before him. “And who may you be, sir?"

  "My name is Jack Porter. I'm a pilot. I make my residence on Ocracoke Island."

  Spotswood raised his chin and narrowed his gaze at Jack. “So what brings you here with this delegation of planters and merchants. What stake in this pursuit of the devil-of-the-sea do you have?"

  Jack stared directly at Spotswood. It was a long moment before he answered. “Each of us here has suffered at the hands of Captain Edward Teach, sir, some more than others. Some have surrendered money, some jewels, some sugar and cocoa, some medications. Some have lost family members. Some have lost their daughter's pride. I, sir, have lost my wife—twice. My first wife died at the hands of the bastard. And now, my present wife has been kidnapped and is, as we speak, held captive aboard his sloop the Adventure! That, sir, is my stake in coming here to you today. I want my wife back. I am enlisting your help. I pray it is not too late."

  * * * *

  "So you know these waters well, do you?"

  Jack looked at the man leaning against the ship's rail beside him. Lieutenant Robert Maynard, commander of the Pearl, was said to be a fire-eater. Jack sure hoped so. He didn't relish the idea of going into battle against Teach with a milksop, but from all indication, Maynard was far from that.

  The afternoon breeze whipped through their hair as they peered off into the vast ocean. The sun glinted off the peaks of the waves far out from the sloop. A school of dolphin arched through the water larboard side. Jack looked down at the curls of waves giving way from the ship as they sliced through the water. It was good wind and they were making excellent time.

  It had been a five-day journey and they were near the end. They'd silently slipped their anchor cables and sailed down the James River toward Chesapeake Bay on November seventeen. From there they bore southward along the barrier islands toward Ocracoke Inlet. And now, cautiously slipping by Cape Hatteras, avoiding the dangerous shoals lying to the south and east, they were nearly there. Jack's restlessness grew with each passing day.