Beauty's Curse

by Tamara Hughes

  “Now that David and Miss Archer are present, let the trial begin,” the captain called out with the agreeable expression of a man eager to be entertained.

  “Trial?” David asked as they came to stand before the captain. “What’s this?”

  “She has to go,” someone shouted.

  “She’s going to kill us all,” another joined in.

  The crew gathered in a loose circle around them, and David looked from one man to the next. Although their agitation was apparent, he detected no immediate threat. “I fought Rixon so she could stay,” David announced. “Captain’s orders.”

  “Sorry, lad.” Captain Swain said. “She has the crew at odds, and I’ll not have mutiny on this ship. Now put away your blade. This will be decided without blood.”

  David resheathed his dagger, for now, although the unease that had clawed up his spine now weighed on his chest like a two ton anchor. “What then? You’ll throw her overboard to appease a horde of superstitious fools?”

  Amelia sidled closer, her face pinched by fear.

  Captain Swain smiled. “I’m not so coldhearted as that. We’ll have a trial, then the crew will vote to decide her fate.” He gestured toward David. “Never fear. You may speak on her behalf, and those who choose to take part can have their say either for or against.”

  A trial? This was nothing but a sham. Before David could voice an objection, Rufus stepped forward. “Rixon is dead because of this woman.”

  “She didn’t kill him,” David argued. “He fell overboard while attempting murder.”

  A few nods from witnesses attested to the truth. He wasn’t alone in this.

  Rufus held his arms wide and appealed to his brethren. “Nay, Rixon sacrificed himself to save us. He gave up his life trying to rid us of the witch who stands before us now.”

  Such tripe. Rufus spewed as much nonsense as Rixon had. “Stow your drivel. She’s no more a witch than you are.”

  “Rixon told us all that had happened on Fortune’s Song because of her, and you’ve seen for yourself the effects here. No wind to buffet our sails and illness throughout our ranks.”

  “Both of which we’ve experienced before without Amelia on board,” David reminded him. “Neither were her doing. No one can control nature or what you fools eat and drink.”

  “Waves nearly as high as the ship’s tallest sail, and wind so strong, rigging snapped like thread,” Rufus declared, undaunted.

  “Aye. You have the right of it,” someone yelled as others muttered in agreement.

  “How could she have possibly caused the ocean to heave?” David called back. “If anything, I say she’s brought us good luck. No one died due to illness, and we survived the swells with the ship intact.”

  “Not all of us survived the swells. Several of the crew were injured and two washed overboard,” Rufus countered.

  The majority of the crew spoke up in kind, and their murmurs rose in volume, drowning out those who might disagree.

  David turned to William, the one friend he’d made amongst the crew, the one who might help the others listen to reason. William winced and looked away. He wouldn’t cross his brethren. This ship and crew meant everything to him.

  “During the squall, rum barrels in the hold broke loose and were smashed against the hull,” Rufus bellowed. “Most of our water, too.”

  Amelia’s gloved hand snatched hold of David’s arm, her breaths quick and shallow.

  “We’ll die of thirst,” a crewman shouted to be heard above the din.

  David palmed the hilt of his sword, the faces around him too eager. “She had nothing—”

  “And look you now, not a wisp of breeze again,” Rufus added. “If she stays, we could languish here for weeks.”

  A clamor of assent rose up, with a few voices louder than the rest. “She’s bad luck. Best be rid of her.” Rufus’s supporters crowded in. They needed no official verdict to know they’d won.

  David began to draw his sword. He’d vowed to protect her, and he’d defend her as long as he could.

  “No.” With a hand on his, Amelia stopped him from pulling the weapon from its sheath. “It’s no use. You can’t fight them all.”

  She trembled and sweat beaded on her brow, yet the conviction in her voice and bearing attested to an inner strength.

  “I’ll leave,” she said to the captain. “All I ask is that you allow me the use of your rowboat, and give me a few provisions.”

  Amelia held her chin high, facing the captain with courage and an outward calm despite the circumstances. She must know, with or without a boat, the crew had sentenced her to death. All that remained to be decided was whether it would be quick or slow.

  A note of admiration flickered over Captain Swain’s features as if he, too, couldn’t help but respect her bravery. “You may take the small wherry we salvaged from Fortune’s Song. As for provisions though, we have none to share.”

  The crew didn’t object. Pirates they may be, but cutthroats who would murder a defenseless woman? None of them could do it outright. No, they would send her off in a rowboat in the middle of an ocean to die of thirst and starvation. The thought churned his stomach. “I’ll go with her.” The words spilled from his mouth unbidden, but once out, he knew he’d stand by them. Nothing else would do.

  Amelia blanched. “No, you won’t.”

  He gazed into her eyes. The fear in their depths was too bright to ignore. “I’ll go with you.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “You’d have us lose our musician?” the captain asked, his question sharp.

  David drilled the man with a glare. “I’ll never play for you again, either way.” While they could physically force him to stay, he’d rather break his violin to pieces than entertain this lot again.

  Captain Swain’s mouth twitched as he scanned the crew before him. Musicians were hard to come by. Still, what good was one who refused to play? “So be it,” he finally said.

  “Don’t do this, David,” William warned in a harsh whisper.

  William had been a friend from the first, until today. His actions, or lack thereof, proved how shallow his friendship ran.

  David grasped Amelia’s hand. His decision was final. “We go together.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away. “I won’t let you.”

  Her show of spunk only strengthened his will. She was worth defending, worth saving, or sacrificing himself in the attempt. He faced her, towering over her by several inches. “How will you stop me?”

  She let out an outraged huff. “By tying you down if I have to.” With that, she strode from him. To where, he had no idea. To find rope? Despite everything, he smiled. Would she really attempt to tie him up? A small gleeful part of him rather hoped she would.

  Chapter Six

  With David’s assistance, Amelia stepped inside the rowboat and quickly sat before she tipped it over, fell, or in some other way managed to drown herself. “Don’t come with me,” she pleaded once more. She’d appealed to the captain, to William, to anyone who’d listen, asking them to help her keep David aboard. All to no success. While she couldn’t physically restrain him, they could have if they’d tried. None were willing. Blast them all.

  David deftly climbed in and sat facing her, an amused smile on his lips. “If you keep saying that, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

  She released a long breath, the tickling of relief making her guilt that much worse. They’d been given no drink, the crew declaring that what they had left couldn’t be spared, and no food—why share food when she and David would likely die of thirst far quicker than hunger? Even her things had been left behind. The captain had told her she wouldn’t need them for long.

  All they had was David’s violin, which no one else could play, a pistol, a flask of gunpowder, and two shot.

  David untied the boat and took up the oars, following the captain’s instructions to row from the ship in short order.

  “Do you stil
l want to defend the crew?” he asked as if he sensed where her thoughts had turned.

  She glanced up at the rail where several men watched them row away. “I’d rather not be banished from their ship, but I don’t blame them for what they’ve done.”

  David huffed out a sound of disgust. “How can you forgive them so readily? They blamed you for things out of your control.”

  “I’ve grown used to being blamed.” She’d come to expect it, and nothing could compare to the sorrow of leaving her family in order to keep them safe. Even after six months of travel, the ache wouldn’t abate. Maybe it never would.

  “Yes. Your stepmother.” David rowed with long, swift strokes, quickly widening the distance between them and the pirate ship. “Did your father not defend you, tell your stepmother to hold her tongue?”

  “He did.” She remembered the arguments. “My stepmother insisted she simply spoke the truth and that his love for me blinded him to what was really happening.” Despite it all, he had loved her dearly, he and her stepsister both had.

  “She sounds like a shrew. How can you believe her over your father?”

  A pitiful laugh rose up. “I’ve been in six carriage accidents over the course of my life; my family is prone to choking on food or even their own saliva; my father fell from his horse shortly after seeing me in the wood, injuring his back; my family became sick with the measles—the only house in town to have such issue; my governess was stung—”

  “Stop.” David shook his head. “You didn’t cause any of those things. They could have happened in anyone’s household. It’s simply…” His brows drew low.

  “Bad luck,” she finished for him. “Exactly. That’s why I left.” Everyone she came in contact with was at risk, including David. After all, her own mother had died giving birth to her. “Why did you come with me?” she asked, more determined than ever. “There was no need. You can’t save me, but you could have saved yourself… You still can.” If they returned to the ship, the crew might welcome him back.

  David stopped rowing and her heart gave a lurch. Maybe he’d finally listen. Maybe he would leave her.

  He grinned and reached behind for something tucked inside his shirt. When his hand reappeared, he held a modest-sized bowl. He set it on the floor of the boat and looked to the murky sky. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have rainwater to drink soon enough.”

  Lucky? Was he daft? “David, you should go back.”

  He peered at the pirate ship in the distance. “Few will miss me.” He picked up the oars again. “Possibly none.”

  Her frustration mounted. Why wouldn’t he listen? She wanted to gnash her teeth and shout at him until he understood the predicament he’d put himself in, but she battled to curb her temper, a side of herself she showed no one, not anymore.

  Putting up a fuss would do no good anyway. Clearly, David had made up his mind and wouldn’t be swayed. Instead, she focused on what he’d said last. Few will miss me. How was that possible? Then again, he had opposed them at every turn, for her sake. “How long did you sail with them?”

  “Just shy of eight months.”

  “That long, and you’ve made no friends?” Perhaps that was the way with pirates.

  “I never truly got on with that lot,” he explained.

  “Then why did you become one of them?”

  His expression turned somber, and he said no more.

  A splotch of rain landed on her nose, then on her cheek. She looked to the dark skies, the cool touch of the droplets refreshing.

  David adjusted the bowl to lay level. “See now, you are good luck.” He tucked his violin beneath his seat, but as the drizzle turned into a shower, she held out her hand.

  “Give it to me.”

  He passed to her the worn instrument, and she tucked it beneath her petticoats to keep it dry. Interesting that he would protect the violin when he claimed he no longer loved to play. Indeed, why had he brought it along at all? David hid his emotions well, although obviously something troubled him deeply. Whether he would ever divulge his secrets, she couldn’t say, but they’d have a few days left if he chose to share his thoughts.

  His dark hair already clinging to his forehead, David rowed, but to where? The wind and waves had thrown The Wanderer off course. Even the pirates had yet to determine where they were. Shielding her eyes from the rain, Amelia stared out at the endless blue water that surrounded them. The rain soaked her dress, adding to its weight, a weight that grew more oppressive the longer she contemplated their fate.

  The breeze picked up, and she looked back to watch the ship’s sails billow, further proving to all aboard that they’d made the right decision to cast her away. No doubt David couldn’t return even if he wanted to, now that his crewmates’ luck had improved. The pirates would likely fire on them if they dared to come close.

  She should be saddened by that fact. And in some ways she was. In other, selfish ways, she was glad to have David here. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  His eyes warmed and his countenance softened. “My pleasure.”

  The words of a gentleman. The ache in her chest grew stronger, and deep in her heart, she wept for David’s sacrifice. Even with the rain filling the bowl, how long would they last without water? Without food. He would be punished because of her sins.

  Uncomfortably warm, Amelia’s skin prickled. She groaned and nestled into the comforting cushion beneath her cheek, a steady heartbeat and the splash of waves lulling her back to sleep. Heartbeat? She opened her eyes to the bright light of midday. Her head rested on David’s bare chest and her body was half sprawled on top of his. Her face flamed. She pushed herself up and winced. Her back ached from sleeping in the cramped boat.

  “She awakes.” David squinted at her, holding his shirt above to shield them from the sun.

  Her gaze shifted to his lips, lips she’d kissed with such delight in the cabin…until he’d pulled away.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked. A fine breeze ruffled his hair, and she fought the urge to feel its softness again.

  “No. I’m fine.” The sun beat down on them from high in the heavens. Her throat dry and the water they’d collected in the bowl long gone, she crawled to the side of the boat to dip her fingers into the sea. Cupping her hands, she lifted the water to her mouth. At least she could find some relief here.

  In a flash of bronze skin, David grasped her hands and pushed them from her mouth. “Don’t drink that. It will increase your thirst.”

  “I only wanted a small taste to wet my throat.”

  He pointed toward the floor. “There’s still rainwater.”

  She peered down at the shallow channel of water trapped along the center seam of the hull. She’d cringe at the narrow puddle of murky liquid if her throat didn’t already burn from thirst. Bending closer, she tried to scoop some into her hands. Too shallow. Blast it. She lifted her hands and licked the moisture from her salty skin. More. She’d use a piece of clothing to sop up the water and wring out into her mouth, but it would absorb far more than it would provide. Enough. Grasping a seat for support, she gave up the ladylike approach and leaned forward. She groaned when her sore muscles protested the movement.

  “Do you need help?” David placed an arm around her middle, and a desire to lean into him swamped her.

  Where were these unbidden impulses coming from? “No. I—”

  Too late. He eased her forward, that arm hugging her close. Her mouth reached the water, and with a sweep of his hand, he brushed back the locks of hair that had escaped her pins. His fingers lightly stroked her scalp as he held her tresses in place, and she momentarily forgot what she was supposed to do.

  “Go ahead. Take a drink,” he prompted.

  She slurped a taste and more. The gritty liquid coated her tongue, but she drank down her share, ignoring the musty flavor, the entire time her senses focused solely on the man holding her in place.

  “Had enough?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She wiped her mouth. The sc
ant moisture didn’t slake her thirst, yet it would have to do. “Your turn.”

  With a nod, David bent low, but stopped short when she gasped.

  On his lower back, a scar in the shape of a groove marred his skin. She couldn’t help herself. She reached out. When her fingers came into contact with the old wound, he flinched.

  “What is this scar from?”

  He peered at her over his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

  “How can you say that? It looks like the wound was grave.” A thought dawned. “Did the pirates do this to you?” Was that why he had no great affinity toward them?

  His attention returned to the bottom of the boat with a soft curse. “No. It happened before I joined up.”

  “Then who?”

  He held his silence.

  She withdrew her hand and curbed her tongue. Who was she to pry? If he didn’t want to tell her, she had no right to ask.

  David bent forward. His mouth on the water’s surface, he sipped from the pool as if savoring a lover’s kiss. The memory of his warm mouth on hers flooded her mind, and excitement leaped inside her, the sensation not unwelcome, if inappropriate. She tore her gaze away from his lips. Avoiding his back and its scar, she looked lower where his breeches tightened over his bent legs and well-formed backside.

  Oh, my. Her stomach fluttered like ripples on the ocean’s surface. Amelia swallowed and nearly choked on her own wayward thoughts.

  David settled onto his side and held up his shirt for shade, motioning for her to join him. Calming her racing heart, she lay down next to him, the feel of his arm around her still vivid in her mind. Stop. No more lascivious thoughts.

  Then again, why not? She always worried about what her affliction would do to those who got too close, but what more could she do to David? They’d likely die within the week, possibly sooner. Why not enjoy what little time they had left?

  Her nerves quaked with the possibility, even as she inwardly grimaced. She had no experience in the matter of men. She heaved a sigh of frustration and leaned back. Lustful thoughts were all fine and good, but to act on them… She had no idea how.