Beauty's Curse

by Tamara Hughes

  “Through trickery,” she scoffed.

  “Doesn’t matter. They forced him aboard and locked him below decks whenever they reached port so he couldn’t escape.”

  One eyebrow quirked. “Does that have anything to do with why Captain Swain asked the crew of Fortune’s Song if their officers had treated them well?”

  “It does. As sailors, it’s our duty to ensure others of our like are treated fairly.”

  She cast him a glance rife with suspicion. “If they’re not?”

  “The officers would be punished.”

  “In what way?” She brushed her hand over the rail, tracing the grain of the wood, avoiding his gaze as if preparing herself for the worst.

  “That depends on what was done to the crew.” Typically offending officers were whipped or shot, but no sense unsettling her with those details.

  “In the case of William’s superiors?” She flinched and inhaled a sharp gasp, flipping her hand over to peer down at her palm and a small rip in her glove.

  He’d best not say. Instead he posed the question that had troubled him since he first spied Amelia. “Why were you traveling alone?”

  “I wasn’t. Not at first.” A flash of pain crossed her face that had nothing to do with the sliver she revealed when she tugged off her glove. “I’m going to live with my aunt in Virginia, and I had a maid who wanted to come with me.”

  “Only a maid? Two women amongst a ship of men?” He smothered a curse. “Where is this maid?” he asked, although he suspected he already knew.

  She blinked away the wetness in her eyes and attempted to pick the sliver from her skin. “She took sick shortly after we set sail, and never recovered.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her blue-green eyes met his with a mixture of sadness and trepidation. “What if…” She stopped and took a breath. “What if what the crew says about me is fact?” she asked.

  “I don’t believe in superstition. Do you?”

  No answer. She stared down at the splinter still lodged in her palm.

  He pulled his dagger from its sheath and grasped her injured hand in his. “You believe you’re bad luck?” How did she get such a notion in her head?

  She sniffled, tears glistening in her eyes. “Bad things happen most everywhere I go.”

  Her misery gripped his heart and held firm. “Nonsense. Bad things happen to everyone. It’s part of life.” His assurance had no effect. She looked as unhappy as before. “You know windless days are fairly common.” He used the knife’s blade to free the sliver.

  Amelia nodded and sniffed once more.

  He resheathed his blade and bent forward to catch her eye. “It has nothing to do with you. Neither does a ship sinking.”

  “Why are you helping me? Your crew will come to see it as a betrayal.”

  “So be it.” Save William’s friendship, he’d never felt a part of the crew, anyway. “I have two older sisters. Between them and my mother, rest her soul, they taught me to respect women, cherish them…” he brushed his finger over a tendril of blond hair that dangled along her face, “protect them. And that’s what I aim to do.”

  Chapter Three

  In the shade of a listless sail, Amelia sat on a crate next to David as he played his violin. The pirates were dressed much the same as the crew of Fortune’s Song, in rude, sailcloth breeches and simple loose shirts, with gold earrings dangling from their ears—used to pay for a proper grave should they die at sea. Die at sea. Sadly, over the course of her journey, some had. If only she could be sure they hadn’t perished because of her presence. Hadn’t David insisted that fires and accidents weren’t all that uncommon?

  Thankfully, thus far, all had been safe aboard The Wanderer. The pirate crew lounged on deck beneath the afternoon sun, playing dice and singing songs. David began the melody of Greensleeves, and several men raised their cups and sang along. “Greensleeves was all my joy. Greensleeves was my delight…”

  Some voices held the notes, others… She suppressed a laugh at the robust, discordant attempts. Such happy faces. She loved the chatter, the chuckles, the music. Safe at David’s side, she tapped her foot in time to the rhythm.

  A smooth baritone voice came nearer. “Greensleeves was my heart of gold.” William. A cup in his hand, he strolled toward them. “Good day to you both.”

  David gave a nod and kept playing.

  “Are you well rested?” she asked, her gaze darting to Mr. Rixon as he came through a door, bearing a platter of food.

  William’s smile answered her far quicker than words. “I am.” He sipped from his cup, then fixed her with a curious stare. “Would you like to walk about? Maybe quench your thirst with a drink?”

  “It might be best if she stayed with me,” David spoke up before she could reply.

  “All day?” William asked. “Sounds tiresome.”

  With a pleading look, she appealed to David’s mercy. She’d sat on this crate for the better part of two hours. A walk would be refreshing.

  “I’ll keep her safe,” William promised. “Have no worry of that. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” David said. “But—”

  “Then it’s settled.” William held out his arm. “Let’s be off.”

  Eager to leave her perch, she stood and took his arm. “I won’t be gone long,” she told David. The concern in his eyes touched her deeply, but they wouldn’t go far. He needn’t worry.

  She and William roamed at a leisurely pace, but her thoughts hadn’t moved from David’s side. “What do you know of David?”

  “Not as much as you might expect.” William glanced back at the man in question. “He’s not one to talk, especially about anythin’ of a personal nature.”

  “How did he come to this ship? Were you on board at the time?”

  “Aye, I was.” He cringed and glanced at David again. “He boarded our ship in Madagascar, and a sorry-looking sight he was, too. Sunburned to the point of blisters, he wore only a waistcloth to cover his nakedness. And his eyes…” William frowned as if the memory disturbed him. “They were wild, like he’d seen or done something that would haunt his days his whole life long.”

  This time it was her turn to look at David. So strong and capable. She could hardly imagine him as the man William described.

  “All he had with him was the violin he now plays, and that was plenty,” William said. “We pirates value musicians like gold. Without them, we’d slash each other’s throats to relieve the boredom.”

  Indeed? “You don’t strike me as someone who would resort to violence as a form of sport.”

  “No,” he agreed, a playful smile warming his face. “But not everyone aboard is as amiable as me.”

  She smiled back at him, the flirt. “I have no doubt that’s true.”

  “A drink?” he asked, when they reached a barrel and pitchers that smelled of liquor. “Let’s see…” he peeked inside a pitcher, “we’ve kill-devil…” He laughed at her confused look. “Better known as rum,” he clarified as he glanced inside another container. “Ah, the crew’s favorite—rum mixed with gunpowder.”

  Amelia wrinkled her nose. How could they drink such a thing?

  He peered into the last. “Ah, the captain’s choice—bombo.” William leaned closer. “That one I think you’ll like. It’s rum, water, sugar, and nutmeg.”

  He was right. Of the three, the third choice would suit her best. “Perhaps later.”

  They wandered amongst the men, some feasting on salted fish, cheese, and boiled potatoes, others gathered around a table to play a game of dice. She received a few wary looks, particularly from those newly made pirates from Fortune’s Song.

  “Lass,” someone called from the table.

  William at her side, she drew closer.

  The man who’d called her was getting on in years. His silver hair scarce on the top of his head, he greeted her with a wide, nearly toothless smile. “I’m having the damnedest time getting good rolls of the dice,” he said, h
is words slightly slurred. He waved her closer, and when she obliged, he wiggled his finger to draw her nearer still.

  “How about a kiss for luck?” he said, loud enough for all to hear, before he let out a hearty whoop of laughter, his shoulders shaking and his face turning red.

  The men around them howled along with him. Their gaiety infectious, soon she found herself laughing, too.

  “Carry on all you want,” Mr. Rixon’s voice broke in. “You won’t find luck with her.” He carried a pitcher and refilled everyone’s cups.

  “Quit your blether,” someone called out. “We’ve heard enough of your stories to last a lifetime.”

  “So you say now, but you’ll soon come to my way of thinking,” Mr. Rixon insisted. “Women don’t belong on ships.”

  “What of Mary Read?” another asked. “She was a pirate.”

  “Married to Calico Jack Rackham,” someone at the table added.

  “Aye,” Mr. Rixon agreed. “And we all know what happened to him and his. Captured and hung, put on display in a gibbet as a warning to us all.”

  Silence followed, and she clasped her hands together. She scanned the crew’s faces, each pondering what Mr. Rixon had said. So absorbed by their reaction, she hadn’t noticed that the music had stopped until David stood at her side.

  “Enough of this,” he said. “Has anything happened since she’s been aboard?”

  Several heads shook.

  “He’s right.” William held his cup high. “Will we let Rixon ruin this day of celebration with his foolery? I say nay. Let’s drink and enjoy!”

  A cheer arose and cups were lifted. The revelry resumed as if Rixon had never spoken, but Amelia couldn’t shake the dread that had her rubbing the raised bumps on her arms.

  David settled his hand on the small of her back. “Come sit with me again.”

  She searched the crowd until her gaze came upon Captain Swain at the rail. “No, I’d like to make a request of the captain.” She headed in his direction.

  David strode beside her. “What request?”

  Captain Swain watched as she approached. “What’s your trouble?”

  “Captain, would you mind if I delivered food and drink to the prisoners below?” She’d been meaning to visit Captain Tuttlage, and now seemed like a good time. Anything was better than staying on deck, at least until her nerves settled a bit. When the crew had been silent, as if contemplating her fate… She shivered.

  “I wager the captain and crew of Fortune’s Song won’t want to celebrate their capture,” Captain Swain said with a smirk.

  “I think they’d appreciate food and drink no matter the reason.” Lord knew how their prisoners were treated. She could only imagine.

  “As you wish,” the captain replied.

  “No need to worry. They’re well cared for,” David told her.

  She wouldn’t be swayed in this. “I’d like to see for myself.”

  David rested a protective arm about her shoulders. “I’ll go with her,” he informed the captain.

  Captain Swain shrugged. “If you must.”

  David showed her the way to the galley, where they gathered food and rum. They carried platters and pitchers down to the hold of the ship. To her surprise, laughter and merriment reached them before they descended the stairs. Well-placed lanterns lit the large space, and while the prisoners were shackled, they looked no worse for wear. Dishes of food, the same as above, circulated among them, and each had their own cup to drink from.

  She cast a questioning look toward David.

  “I told you they were well cared for,” he said. “Each of these men will be ransomed. We’d best keep them healthy.”

  Not only kept healthy, they appeared in good spirits, too. She set down her platter in place of one already emptied and began refilling cups. When she came to Captain Tuttlage, she shook her head. “I’m so happy to see smiles down here. I would have never thought…”

  “Yes, I’m thankful we’ve been treated so well. I’ve heard tales of the horrors pirates can subject on their captives.” The captain lifted his arm and the chain that dangled from it rattled. “Other than these shackles, I can’t complain.” Concern flooded his eyes. “What of you? Are you well?”

  A reassuring smile rose into place. “Don’t worry about me. I have my own cabin, and a guard.” She peered over at David as he poured rum into waiting cups and spoke to the crew. “I’m in capable hands.” At least for the moment. Given Mr. Rixon’s comments on the deck and the reaction they elicited, she couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d be safe.

  …

  The sun had set hours ago with the celebration unabated. As ordered, David played various jigs, his gaze straying to Amelia time and time again. William ever by her side, she’d joined the dancing, the light in her eyes and the sheer joy on her face captivating.

  Given all the rum that had been consumed, the dancers were less than graceful. Even Amelia stumbled a time or two. Had she been drinking? He’d seen her with a cup in her hand but assumed it contained water. No matter. They’d be going back to her cabin soon. Over the course of the day, he’d watched the looks cast at Amelia change from curious or distrustful, to polite or downright friendly. In response, seemingly shy Amelia had blossomed before his eyes, interacting with the men with humor and grace. Beautiful beyond compare.

  Of course, that had been some time ago, before the rum had taken hold. Now the glazed eyes of the men worried him. He would have swept her off to her cabin already if she didn’t look so blessedly happy dancing amongst them. Had he ever been that happy, listening to music and enjoying the company of others? Perhaps a lifetime ago.

  Yes, he’d give her more time. He’d play another song, maybe two, before he insisted she retire for the night.

  He picked up his pace as he began a new jig, his fingers pressing the violin’s strings in rapid succession and his bow gliding rhythmically. Amelia giggled, and he peered her way in time to see William twirl her about. She stumbled, her hand breaking away from William’s, and bumped into someone’s back, strong enough to send him tripping forward. He collided with two more, one of whom fell to the deck, knocking his nose on the hard planks. The pirate came up cursing and swinging, blood dripping from both nostrils. Landing a solid punch to one crewman and another, the injured man didn’t stop fighting, and soon a good number of men had joined in the fray.

  Bloody hell. David dropped his violin and bow, and charged in. Amelia had become separated from William. She stood in the midst of men who blindly struck out at anyone handy. As David shoved bodies out of his way, Amelia ducked and tried to escape the melee with no success. He finally reached her as a fist flew toward them. He wrapped an arm about Amelia’s waist and hauled her out of harm’s way, but didn’t have time to do much more. Knuckles connected with his cheek, knocking his head to the side. Pain radiated along his face, and a coppery flavor sprang from a gash in his mouth.

  He ignored it, his only thought to get her to safety. Amelia held close against him, he shouldered his way through the throng. Once free from the brawl, he retrieved his violin and took her hand as a shot rang through the air. Amelia jumped.

  “Listen here, lads,” Captain Swain called out. “Now that you’ve drunk your fill, be off to your beds. When the winds blow tomorrow, there’ll be work to be done.”

  The men grumbled and cursed but obeyed their captain, each heading to his preferred sleeping place.

  David tucked his violin beneath his arm and lifted his lantern, then tugged on Amelia’s hand. “Let’s get you to your cabin.” He led the way, her hand never leaving his.

  She stumbled behind him. “David, I’m sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be,” he assured her.

  “But I do. The fight began because of me.”

  He reached her door and ushered her inside. “If it hadn’t been you, something else would have set them off. They’re all drunk, and beating each other isn’t as uncommon as you might think.” David locked the door a
nd pocketed the key. “You had a good time?”

  Amelia sank down on the bed with a contented sigh. “I did. I had a lovely time.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She patted the spot next to her. “Come sit with me.”

  He shouldn’t, but her eyes so bright, their color more green than blue in the lantern’s glow, drew him to her. He sat, and her pleased smile intoxicated him more than rum ever could.

  Amelia lifted her hand and brushed aside the hair on his forehead before teasing the strands at the nape of his neck. “Someone needs to trim your hair.”

  “Is that so?” he asked as he luxuriated in her touch. “Are you that someone?”

  “I could be.”

  Her finger skimmed along his throat to play with the opening of his shirt, and his pulse sped. What was this? When that same finger delved into his shirt front, her intention became obvious.

  He stared deeply into her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

  Amelia chuckled, a throaty sound that beckoned. “I don’t know. Can one become drunk on one…no, two cups of…” She crinkled her nose as she concentrated.

  For someone so small, it wouldn’t take much. “What did you drink?”

  She squeezed one eye shut as if it helped her to think. “The first cup was…bombo.”

  “The second?”

  She smiled. “Frederick had a special wine he shared with me. He was really very kind. They all were.”

  Frederick. David almost groaned. “What kind of wine?”

  “He called it wormwood.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Quite bitter.”

  Damn Frederick.

  Her palm cupped his cheek. “Now I’m pleasantly warm, and I feel like everything is so clear.”

  He had no idea what all went into Frederick’s wine other than wormwood leaves, but that was enough to know the concoction was potent.

  “You are a good man, David.” Her thumb grazed over his lower lip, and she shifted a bit closer.

  If she knew him better, she wouldn’t say such a thing. Who he was, what he’d done… “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He took her hand, placed it on her lap, and made a move to rise. “You should go to sleep.”