The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  Fury tightened his lips and stormed across his eyes. Tossing the weapon down, he grabbed her shoulders, lifted her from the seat, and pressed her against the bulkhead, pinning her there with his body. His face was within inches of hers. His breath, hot and spicy, wafted over her cheek and down her neck.

  Her breath came rapid. Her blood raced. What was he going to do? Oh, God, have mercy!

  He plucked the knife from her sash and flung it over his shoulder. It stuck in the opposite wall with a thud, expertly placed. Why did she ever think she could out maneuver this man, this warrior?

  Trying her best not to tremble, she raised her gaze to his, not wanting him to see her fear.

  His eyes penetrated hers. “When are you going to understand how much I care for you?” His desperate whisper feathered over her cheek and sent a ripple down to her toes. Heat from his body infused her own. Strength from his arms kept her in place, but the look in his eyes stole her voice. A strand of black hair wavered over his jaw, where an evening shadow grew.

  A patch of white clung to the area beneath the horse patch, inflaming her anger once again. Reaching up, she ripped it from his skin and threw it in his face. “Charlatan!”

  He blinked as a slow grin lifted his lips.

  The ship creaked over a wave as their breath huddled between them. He raised a hand and brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek.

  Then lowered his mouth to hers.

  Juliana lost all reason. Warmth and pleasure spiraled through her, coupled with a desperate need she’d never felt before, a need that if it was not met would surely cause her demise.

  He opened her lips with his and deepened the kiss, gently loving her, each caress a promise of more—more intimacy, more joy, more love. More of him. He cupped her face in his rough hands as if she were a precious vase of gold and he a curator of fine art terrified to break her.

  She groaned, searching through the pleasurable waters of her mind for a lifeline—anything to grab onto to pull herself from this sea of ecstasy before she was lost in its depths forever. There, a thread of anger appeared. She fed it with memories of betrayal and lies. It grew and she latched on. And shoved against him.

  He withdrew and caught his breath, his eyes glazed with desire.

  “How dare you take such liberties!” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it with a look of devilish delight. Moisture sat upon his lips, evidence of their kiss.

  “I only took what was offered, milady.”

  “How could I offer anything when you have me imprisoned against the wall?”

  “’Tis called a bulkhead, and your lips were not shackled. In fact, they moved quite freely.” A grin peeked at her from the right side of his lips.

  She gave a rather unladylike growl.

  The door flung open and the doctor entered. “I heard a gunshot.” His gaze scampered over the two of them and his brow raised.

  Mr. Pirate glanced at him over his shoulder. “Quite all right, Jonas. The minx tried to kill me is all.” He chuckled.

  Juliana swept pleading eyes to the doctor. Surely this educated, somewhat-refined-for-a-pirate would come to her aid. “Doctor, if you possess an ounce of gallantry within you, you will rescue me from this man’s vile intentions.”

  Instead of swooping in to save her, the doctor laughed. Laughed! Mr. Pirate joined him as Juliana’s fury rose to near boiling.

  When he finally ceased his laughter and faced her, she offered him a coy smile.

  Before kneeing him in the groin.

  Chapter 30

  An agonizing throb seared down Alex’s legs and radiated into his belly. He bent over with a mighty groan and backed away from the vixen. A moment ago his body had been spinning in pleasurable ecstasy; now it pounded in fiery spasms. His vision blurred. The room tilted. He felt like a grenade had gone off in his groin. Drawing a deep breath, he struggled to rise, determined to regain his dignity and not allow the lady the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

  Too late. She crossed arms over her chest and gave him a victorious smirk.

  Jonas scratched his whiskers. “Rescue you, miss? Of what need? You seem more than capable.”

  “Mayhap next time, Mr. Pirate,” she snapped. “You shall consider the consequences before stealing a kiss from me.”

  “Milady.” Alex attempted to contain the agony in his voice with a sly grin. “’Twas well worth it.” Then storming toward Jonas, he dragged his friend into the hall and slammed the door behind him, instantly bending over with a groan.

  Jonas clapped him on the back and chuckled. “She’s a hellion, Captain, I’ll give you that. I believe you’ve met your match at last.”

  Alex straightened and limped down the companionway, groaning with each step. “My match, Posh! The woman merely needs to learn her place.”

  Jonas was still laughing when they burst onto the quarterdeck to a blast of salty wind and a black sky sprinkled with stars. “If you’re quite done …” Alex glared at him as he took a quick account of the sails and the ship’s position and made his way to the starboard railing.

  “Apologies, Captain. ’Tis just that I’ve never seen anyone get the best of you. I’m finding I rather like it.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Alex gripped the railing and allowed the cool evening breeze to tear over him. Blast the woman! How could his body throb both with pain and pleasure at the same time? Just as his heart was doing.

  Jonas rubbed the whiskers lining his jaw. “Honestly, Captain, you can hardly blame her. You’ve put her in a rather precarious situation.”

  “What choice did I have? Leave her with that dog, Nichols?”

  “I don’t believe the man would have done her harm.”

  “Mayhap not, but I have no faith he would have protected her either.”

  “Hmm.” Jonas braced his boots on the heaving deck as he stared out to sea.

  His silence pricked at Alex’s conscience. “I care for her. She’s better off with me.”

  “On a pirate ship? Full of lusty miscreants?” Jonas nodded toward the crew, some of whom were even now casting furtive glances toward Alex’s cabin. “Don’t your own articles forbid bringing women on board?”

  Alex clenched his jaw. “My men will not dare cross me. Not if they wish to live.”

  “’Tis true most of them fear you, but they are pirates, after all. And, pray tell, you’ve never brought such a worthy prize on board before.”

  Alex gripped the railing tighter. Jonas was right. His crew’s loyalty went only as far as the treasure he gained them. If any of them thought they had a chance at more than that, at power or a comely woman, they wouldn’t hesitate to band together and take it. Lowering his gaze to the agitated foam clawing the hull, he released a heavy sigh. What had he done?

  “I intend to bring the lady back to Port Royal posthaste. Is Larkin awake?”

  Jonas shook his head.

  “As soon as he recovers himself, let me know. We can’t return to Port Royal until I ensure the Spanish tapestry is not on board. Once I determine that, we’ll turn about, and I’ll deliver Miss Dutton safely to her home.”

  Moonlight broke through a rift in the clouds and shone on the disapproval lining Jonas’s face. “I hope you’re right, Captain. ’Tis a dangerous game you are playing. She’s a proper lady who deserves better than this.”

  Alex growled, his anger rising. “I love her, Jonas.”

  “So, you deceive her? Pretend to be someone you’re not? That’s not love.”

  “And what do you know of love?”

  “I know the Bible says love is kind, unselfish, and true.”

  Alex pushed from the railing and crossed arms over his chest. “Spare me your religious trifles, Jonas.”

  “Very well, but the truth remains.”

  The great Caribbean Sea spread before Alex, as thick and dark as ink, as thick and dark as his soul. Yet heavenly light dared to sprinkle silvery jewels atop the waves. Here and there. Not all, but only those swells that re
ached for the sky. Was that the truth Jonas spoke of? That one had to reach to receive the light? Nay, Alex had tried that. He had reached toward God and received only darkness. Regardless, his friend meant well.

  “You’re worse than a nagging wench, man.”

  “Alas, ’tis the task with which I am burdened.” His tone was mockingly superior.

  “And, pray, who burdens you with such a task? Certainly not me!”

  “Nay.” Jonas cast him a sideways glance. “I answer to a higher authority than the Pirate Earl. ’Tis the Almighty who has assigned me to steer you from this destructive course you’ve set upon and back onto the right way.”

  Alex chuckled. “Those hours poking your nose in medical journals have made you mad, Jonas. God, if he even exists, has naught to do with me. Nor would he assign anyone a task so doomed to failure.”

  “We shall see, my friend. We shall see.” Jonas smiled as sails snapped and thundered above. The brig soared over a wave then plunged into its trough, showering them in salty spray.

  “What will you do now that your ruse is up?” Jonas asked.

  “That Lord Munthrope is the Pirate Earl?” Alex shrugged. “It will give society something to talk about for years to come, I’m sure.”

  “But you will be forced to choose an identity, will you not?”

  “Munny was a mere entertainment. I am a pirate.”

  “But is that what you were meant to be?”

  Alex glanced at his friend with a cynical snort. “There is no meant in life, my friend. Just a day-to-day existence.”

  “No rhyme nor reason, no purpose save one’s pleasure? How sad.” Jonas frowned, then bid Alex goodnight and walked away.

  Infuriating man! Alex stared after him. Why he kept him on his crew, he had no idea. Nay, he did know. Jonas was a friend. Alex’s only friend, it would seem. He gazed back upon the chaotic sea, feeling like his life mimicked the random waves tossed here and there by tides and wind. Nay! He pounded the railing. He was in control of his destiny. No God would imprison Alex with his many restrictions. No God and no man. Alex was free.

  After some time, the pain subsided in his body. But not in his heart. He supposed Juliana had a right to be angry at his deception, even though his intentions had been pure. Was he being selfish? Only thinking of his own needs and desires? But he’d helped her, protected her, hadn’t he? Or had it been only to get close to her for his own enjoyment? And now, he’d put her in more danger then she ever had been in on the streets of Port Royal.

  ♥♥♥

  Sometime in the darkest hours of the night, the lock clicked on the cabin door and it creaked open. Juliana, lying upon the only bed in the room—a bed that smelled of salt and mold and the Pirate Earl—gripped the knife she’d pulled from the wall tightly to her chest. And waited. Boot steps thudded in hollow echoes toward her, then stopped. The mighty form of the Pirate Earl, silhouetted in moonlight streaming through the stern windows, stood just feet from the bed. Juliana’s heart leapt to her throat and stayed there, choking her. The smell of rum, cinnamon, and the sea filled her nose. Then he retreated into the shadows. A groan, a creak of wood, and within minutes the sound of his deep breathing filled the cabin.

  It took Juliana another hour before exhaustion finally tugged her into unconsciousness.

  She dreamt of Lord Munthrope, a flurry of satin and glitter, dancing like a jester before a cheering crowd, his limp hands held high, his face a mask of absurdity. But then as he continued to leap and prance, the white paste on his face began to melt away, the satin and lace turned to leather, the white wig to coal-black hair, the ribbons on his chest to pistols, the fan in his hand to a cutlass. And the dance to the lithe movements of swordplay. Yet it wasn’t play at all as he slashed and hacked through the crowd of Port Royal society, who continued to laugh and clap even as he drove his blade in for the kill.

  She bolted from the bed, blood cycloning through her veins. Hazy morning sun peered in through the stern windows as she tried to focus her sleep-laden eyes on her surroundings: the large oak desk sprinkled with charts and instruments and trinkets from exotic ports; the mahogany sideboard against the far wall that held silver lidded flagons, a gold-plated tea urn, and several books; the carved wardrobe beside it; the leather-strapped chest with an iron lock; and the collection of fighting swords and paintings of ships mounted on the wall. At the foot of the bed sat a cannon, squatting like a bulldog, its barrel and breech gleaming black. No sign of Mr. Pirate. Mayhap she had just dreamed that he’d come in last night.

  Mayhap she had dreamed the kiss they’d shared. The utter shame! What had come over her? Some wicked spell not of this world, to be sure, for she had no other explanation for her wanton behavior. Or the way his lips had made her feel.

  The lock clanked and the oak door swung inward, admitting a squat black man wearing a red-checkered shirt, stained breeches, and a blue bandana wrapped around what she suspected was a bald head. His grin revealed brown wooden teeth as he set the tray he was carrying on the captain’s desk. “Some tea an’ biscuits fer ye, miss,” he drawled out as he continued to peruse her, the whites of his eyes as wide as a full moon.

  Unsure of what to say, or of the man’s intentions, she remained silent, praying he would disappear. Thankfully, Jonas entered the room. “That will be all, Spittal.”

  The man growled, turned, and lumbered out the door.

  “Spittal?” Juliana found her voice.

  “Our ship’s cook.” Jonas smiled. “I had him make some ginger tea for you. The captain mentioned your stomach was giving you trouble.”

  Juliana stared at the tray filled with a cup of steaming tea and some crusty objects that looked more like rocks than biscuits. Spittal? She gulped down a burst of nausea and drew a deep breath of the fresh sea air gusting through the open door.

  “Where is the captain?”

  “On deck. He wishes me to ask you if you require anything, milady.”

  “Pray, do not start calling me that as well, Doctor. And all I require is to be set free. Can you not see he has kidnapped me? Locked me in his cabin for some obscene purpose?” She eyed him, expecting a response, but he merely stared at her in amusement. “And why does he have a lock on the outside of his door anyway? No doubt I’m not the first woman to be enslaved within his cabin.”

  She gave him her most pleading look, complete with tears pooling on her lashes. “You are an educated man, a doctor who has vowed to heal others, to do no harm. I beg you, please save me from this ruffian.”

  He seemed impervious to her feminine appeal. Stepping further inside the cabin, he glanced out the stern windows, where a ray of sunlight oscillated over him with each sway of the ship. Tall, built along solid lines, he wore not the garb of brigand but could pass for any gentleman on the streets of Port Royal. A pair of spectacles peeked at her from his coat pocket.

  “Let me put your fears to rest, Miss Dutton,” he said, facing her with eyes as green as sea moss. “Alex”—he hesitated, flattening his lips—“the captain means you no harm. In truth, quite the opposite.”

  Her skin tightened in anger. Her eyes dried. “I cannot believe a man of your distinction could be so fooled. But I suppose you are just a pirate like the rest of them.”

  At this he smiled. “You flatter me, Miss Dutton. I am a surgeon, indeed, but a pirate surgeon, as you have so aptly declared. My first loyalty is to God. My second to my captain.”

  “Ludicrous! They are on opposite sides!” This man was as mad as his captain. She stood, attempting to press down the wrinkles in her mantua. Was it only last night she wore this to the Rosemere’s soiree? “Nevertheless, Mr. Nash, I insist on seeing your captain at once.”

  “Alas, he is busy at the moment and insists you stay below for your own safety.”

  We shall see about that! She squinted out the windows as if she spotted something on the horizon. As soon as his gaze followed hers, she made a dash for the open door, smiling to herself when she avoided the doctor’s hurri
ed reach.

  A wall of wind knocked her backward as she emerged from the companionway to a jolt of the deck that nearly sent her careening overboard. Toppling to the side, arms flailing, she finally found a grip on a thick rope tied to a mast. She righted herself, held her heaving stomach, and squinted across the bright deck until she spotted the object of her fury—the Pirate Earl standing with his back to her at the head of the quarterdeck, boots spread apart, arms crossed over his chest, hair and white shirt flapping in the wind.

  Jonas emerged from below and started toward her with a scowl. Cat calls and whistles shot her way like cannon fire as pirate after pirate halted in their tasks to gape at her. The Pirate Earl spun on his heels. His eyes narrowed. His mouth grew tight. Juliana ducked away from the leaping doctor and charged toward the nefarious pirate captain.

  “You will return me at once to Port Royal, sir!” She halted before him, brushing hair from her face.

  He grabbed her arm and drew her close. “You will return to my cabin, sweetums, or I fear neither of us may make it home alive.”

  She jerked from his grasp, causing a deluge of chuckles from the crew. “What are you talking about? You and you alone can order this ship to turn around.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain. She got away from me.” Jonas appeared beside her.

  “I can see that, Doctor. Now, if you will rectify your mistake.”

  Grabbing her skirts, she dodged the doctor’s hand once again and circled the binnacle. “I will not be kept behind lock and key like some criminal!”

  “Aye, I agree wit’ the lady,” the pirate manning the whipstaff announced as he cast her a look that chilled her to the bone. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she took in the ship and found that most of the crew’s eyes roved up and down her as if sizing her up for some task. A task she dared not contemplate. Her pulse rose. Mayhap it hadn’t been such a great idea to come on deck, after all.