Tempting the Pirate

by Tamara Hughes

  Light seeped through the spaces between the stacks, illuminating a narrow strip of her lavender petticoat. Dimly she remembered this gown, the finest she’d ever worn. Used for a wedding. Her wedding. She bolted upright. Dear God. Was she married? No, she couldn’t be. Absolutely not.

  Something rustled on the other side of the stacked boxes. A rat? She eased off the floor, inching her way closer to the source of the sound, and light. Light? Her heart pounded a few extra beats. A rat with a lantern? If only that could be true. She peered through a crack in the wall.

  A grating creak rose up as a dark-haired man wrenched off the top of a crate with a knife of some kind. He shook his head with a brooding glare and grumbled, “Searched everywhere on this damnable ship. Well, almost everywhere.”

  He sheathed the vicious-looking dagger he’d used, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to quiet her stilted breaths, her attention turning to his other hip where a heavy pistol was tucked into his belt. What would he need with such weapons?

  His tanned skin bronze in the candlelight, he rifled through the contents of a crate. “They wouldn’t keep prisoners in an officer’s cabin. Although I wouldn’t put it past The Judge. Or maybe they have a secret compartment somewhere.”

  Prisoners? And who is The Judge?

  “Never fear, brother. I’ll tear apart this whole bloody ship if I have to,” he murmured. The man wore no coat or waistcoat, but rather a light-colored shirt rolled up at the sleeves, its opening at the neck showing a great deal of broad chest while a green scarf hid much of his ebony hair. He exuded confidence in his stance and his angular features. Dark lashes framed eyes she’d almost call pretty, although nothing about this man was feminine.

  “At least I can take something from you bastards.” He lifted a glass bottle from the protective straw, and a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Did you sleep well, love?”

  Panic jolted through her, and she staggered back a step, a loud gasp escaping her throat. He’d known she’d been watching all along?

  His focus shifted, and his gaze turned sharp as he peered through the cracks in the wall of boxes. “Who goes?” he demanded, his hand drawing the dagger at his waist with lightning speed. His eyes widened for an instant. “David?”

  No. She backed away as far as she could in the narrow space and scoured the area for a place to hide. Her deafening pulse nearly drowned out the scrape of his boots as he rounded the corner into her sanctuary.

  His blade held out before him, he halted when he saw her. “What in God’s name…?” He straightened from his half-crouched position, his stern look softening, and sheathed his weapon. “What are you doing here?”

  “Leave me be,” she forced out, her voice shaking despite her best efforts.

  His golden eyes stared boldly into hers. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.” He set his bottle of wine on the floor and raised his hands in a gesture of peace, although he continued to advance until he stood a mere two feet away. Despite his show of innocence, his gaze roamed over her, a slow perusal that brought a smile of admiration to his lips. “Now what shall I do with you?”

  “You don’t have to do anything with me.” Every hair at the nape of her neck flexed as one, warning her to flee. But, where? Her only escape from this cramped space was around him. Even if the hoop beneath her petticoats would allow her to pass, she most definitely didn’t want to get that close.

  Miss Biddle’s voice rang inside her head as clear as a chime. Beware. A man’s main instrument for thinking lay beneath his breeches. She almost glanced toward that area of his body, but decided she didn’t want to see his thoughts. Instead, with a dry swallow, she scanned her nook for a weapon of any kind.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t leave you here. It would only be a matter of time before someone else found you.”

  What difference would that make?

  Vaguely, she remembered the money she’d brought. Summoning the fortitude Miss Biddle would expect of her, she faced him with her most stern look. “Take me to your captain. I’m prepared to pay my passage.” She reached for the pockets hidden beneath her petticoat. They were missing. Where then? Oh, yes. With as much dignity as she could muster, she tugged a coin purse from her kerchiefed bodice as if any self-respecting gentlewoman would store her valuables there.

  He snatched the bag. “Probably not the wisest course.”

  “Stop… Give that back.” She grabbed for it, but he held it out of her reach, assessing its meager weight in his palm.

  “Besides, this won’t be nearly enough to convince Captain Payne to allow you to sail with us as a passenger, love. And for your own good, I advise you not to try. Captain Payne is a bit of a madman, as are many who sail under the Banner of King Death.”

  “King Death?” She jumped for the purse and missed. When he angled away from her attempt, she slid down the length of his chest—a hard wall of heat that invited her touch. She stared dumbly at the expanse of skin and muscle, following the trail of a leather cord from around his neck leading into the opening of his shirt. The unholy desire to run her fingers along that path thrummed within her.

  With two fingers beneath her chin, he raised her face to his, a look of fascination making his eyes glow a darker shade of gold. “Captain Payne is a pirate. A rather crazed, ruthless one you’d best not dally with.” The rich, almost hypnotic, sound of his voice sank deep inside her belly to warm her from the inside out. His face lowered, his lips closing in.

  Her addled brain finally deciphered his words, and the enormity of the situation dawned. “A pirate!” Only then did she realize what she’d almost done, and her face burned. He had almost kissed her…

  He covered her mouth, his fingers warm against her lips. “No yelling. While most are asleep, there are still ears all about.”

  With a twist of her head, she shook off his hand and put an arm’s length between them, setting all thought of her shameful reactions to him aside to focus on the real issue here. “You, sir, are also a pirate?”

  His well-formed lips curved into a frown. “Yes, newly signed on, it seems.”

  Of course he’d be a pirate. Her life was already a shambles. Why not add pirates into the mix? “If you don’t mind, I’ll simply take my leave then.” She reached for the cloak she’d removed in the night.

  He watched her movements, a grave expression on his face. “If only it were that simple.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? You can’t keep me here.”

  “It has nothing to do with what I desire. We set sail hours ago.”

  “What?” She climbed a crate and looked out the windows along the back wall, finding inky darkness. Nothing appeared different, even the slow rocking of the ship felt the same as when it was moored. “What will I do?”

  He grasped her fingers as she stepped from the crate.

  “Don’t touch me.” She tried to jerk her hand away, but his grip only tightened.

  Her gold wedding band glistened in the lamplight. “Is your husband wealthy?” he asked. “Perhaps we could ransom you back. Captain Payne might consider the delay worthwhile if the price were high enough—”

  “Please, don’t.”

  His eyes bored into hers before his dark brows rose with understanding. “I see. You’ve had a lovers’ quarrel, and you’ve run away from home.” He tossed her the purse. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your husband will be so grateful for your return, he’ll forgive any misunderstanding.”

  Forgiveness. She didn’t want forgiveness. Charity grabbed his arm before he could turn away. “Don’t ransom me… Please.” Despite the dense fog that had shrouded her mind last night, she’d known the type of man she was marrying. Arrogant, cruel, and brutal. His sharp, angry demands still echoed in her ears, and the bite of his fingers—each time he’d touched her, he’d caused pain. Ever since she’d spurned his advances, all his charm had fled. Intimidation and torture were his weapons of choice to get what he wanted from her. She couldn’t go back.
/>   “It’s true I ran away. With good reason. My uncle drugged me and forced me to wed a spiteful man who wishes to do me harm.” She raised a hand to her temples where the pain had dulled to a slow throb. “No, I’m not married. That’s impossible.” She shook her head. “The last thing I recall, my uncle insisted I have a glass of sherry with him, to celebrate some sort of bet he’d won. On horses I think. After that, everything is a blur. I remember only pieces—a maid helping me put on this gown, the reverend standing before me and that horrid man by my side, and then, awakening in my bed, dizzy and weak.” She looked up, expecting to see understanding, even outrage, and found neither. He gave no clue to his thoughts. Yet he listened. That had to mean something. “I took money and a few mementos, and I ran.” The hollow ache she’d carried with her since her parents’ deaths grew as the fate of her mother’s satchel came to mind. The bag had been given to her mother as a gift from a friend, the same friend who’d taught her mother how to read and figure. A skill that her mother had used to manage her father’s books. Not that he’d appreciated her efforts much. He’d always taken them as his due.

  The pirate cast her a sideways glance. “Quite the story.”

  “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.” She stared at the ring on her finger. The bones in her hand were still sore from Captain Shevington’s hold, his attempt to force words from her mouth. “I can’t return home. I won’t marry him.” She scowled, choking on the humiliation of having to explain. And for what? No man had ever given her an ounce of respect. Why would this one be any different? “If you send me back,” she spat, “I’ll…I’ll…” She stifled a cry of frustration. “I’ll curse your name until my dying breath.” Oh, blast it all. She sounded no better than an unruly child. When he bowed his head to hide his grin, she stiffened. “This is most certainly not amusing.”

  He looked up, the humor still glittering in his eyes, and spoke one word. “James.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “James Lamont. It’s my name. You’ll need it if you’re to curse me properly.” His movements lithe and confident, he returned to the opening to her nook and retrieved the lantern just beyond. “Is this man so loathsome that you’d rather risk your virtue with sea robbers?”

  Tamping down her ire, she recalled something else in Captain Shevington’s eyes and bearing. Something dark and wicked, volatile, that bespoke of the savagery he would unleash for disobeying him. “Yes.” Anything is better than going back.

  A skeptical look flashed across the pirate’s face, and he returned the lantern to the floor. Before she could guess his next action, he reached out and encircled her waist, pulling her toward him until their chests met and a bold hand rested on her backside.

  “Are you sure you’re prepared for what might happen?” he asked, his face inches from hers and a glint of challenge in his eye. “You seem more like a prude to me, shocked into a swoon by the least indecency.”

  Stunned, she peered up at him, and her attention caught on his sensuous mouth, a tender curve of winsome lips.

  Those lips parted, revealing straight, white teeth. “A kiss might convince me otherwise.”

  Oh no. He’d not trick her with his handsome face and charming ways. “Release me,” she demanded as she twisted against his embrace, his hard warmth luring, despite her desire to be away.

  He expelled a short breathy laugh. “I didn’t think so.” Just as easily as he had ensnared her, he let her go. He picked up his lantern and left her without a backward glance.

  She struggled to regain her composure, forcing her mind to the present as the light of his lamp moved away. The swine. How dare he touch her! Then again, what could be expected of a pirate? In fact, he was probably off right now to…arrange her ransom. She hurried after him, her gown catching on every splinter and nail.

  What could she say to entice a pirate to forgo the riches a ransom would provide? Her hand tingled as she imagined her palm sliding over his bare chest, exploring the curve of his muscles and the heat of his skin… She shook herself. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Spending time in his bed was most definitely not up for discussion, no matter what wicked spell he’d cast over her.

  The dim circle of light stopped as she turned the next corner. James stood in front of a stack of boxes. His gaze roamed from one to the next.

  “Mr. Lamont. Don’t ransom me back to my uncle,” she blurted in a rush before he could move away from her again. “If you let me remain aboard, I promise I won’t be any trouble. No one will realize I’m even here.”

  After a doubtful glance in her direction, he continued his search.

  “I’ll slip off the ship at the next port.”

  “You won’t want to do that. We sail for New Providence.” He pushed aside crates in his quest.

  “But, why…?”

  “New Providence is a haven for pirates. Not exactly a place for a lady such as yourself.”

  At the moment, any sort of place would do, as long as it was far away from her uncle and Richard Shevington, a Royal Navy man determined to stay on land. He wanted her for her substantial dowry and nothing more, except perhaps to sate his lust. Something he’d attempted to force upon her once already.

  “Mr. Lamont,” she tried again. “I beg you. Take what little I have as payment for your silence and leave me here.” She removed her pearl eardrops and held them out along with the purse. She could offer no more.

  He made no move to take them. He unearthed an old scuffed trunk and dragged it into an open space, raising the lid. Its weary hinges creaked their protest.

  More confused than ever, she peered over his shoulder and caught sight of the vibrant assortment of garments within. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Mr. Lamont…James… As a sailor and a man, I’m sure you appreciate your freedom. That’s all I’m asking for.” If she could only make him understand. “I’m a prisoner in my uncle’s house. He decides where I can go and what I can do…who I must marry. And this man—”

  “Such is the life of a woman,” he answered. Yet from the solemn way he studied her, she sensed he understood.

  The heavy clang of a bell resounded above them. “The changing of the guards. It’s getting late. We’d best be off.” He pressed an odd assemblage of clothing into her hands.

  She stared at the white shirt similar to his and the pair of olive-green-and-tan-striped breeches. He had to be joking. She had no intention of wearing them. Unless… “Does this mean you won’t ransom me back?”

  “Change into the clothes.”

  “Promise me.”

  “Listen, love. As much as you’d like to, you can’t stay here, and I can’t parade you across the decks dressed as you are.” He lifted a hand toward her lavender dress. “The crew may be dull-witted, but they will notice I have a woman with me.”

  Walk amongst pirate dressed in this? And he insisted his captain was the insane one. “I think staying here would be wiser.”

  “I disagree, and if you won’t do it yourself…” He snatched the front of her gown and began to pluck the pins securing it to her stomacher.

  The urge to fight him surged through her as the memory of Captain Shevington pulling at her dress sprang to mind. No man would force himself on her again. Her hands shaking as badly as her uncle’s the morning after a night on the town, she smacked his hands away. “Are you mad?”

  He seized her wrists, holding them still. “If you wish to stay aboard, do as I say,” he warned, releasing her. “Or ransom it is.”

  Lifting her chin in a show of poise she didn’t feel, she clutched the unpinned edges of her bodice together and snatched up the pile of men’s clothes. “I can undress myself.”

  An amused grin lit his face, and a devilish dimple appeared in his cheek. “That wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable.”

  “From your view.”

  What a scoundrel. She skirted around the crates back to her nook. With a glance behind to ensure he hadn’t followed, she set aside the
garments and her coin purse, then unpinned the rest of her stomacher and shrugged out of the gown. The lavender silk slipped from her arms to pool at her feet. She untied her outer petticoat. The space too small for much movement, she fought to push the yards of fabric over her head. She let out a disgruntled groan as the petticoat dragged against her hair, dislodging pins from her coiffure. Just as she would have tossed the foul thing aside, the cloth was jerked from her hands.

  “Need assistance?” James stood in the opening to her crude dressing area with her petticoat in his hand. His fiery gaze heated her skin, roaming over the swell of her breasts barely concealed by her cotton shift.

  She backed up a step and nearly stumbled when her hoop and remaining petticoats came up against the crates behind her. “You are too bold, sir,” she scolded, seizing the large white shirt as her legs trembled beneath her.

  “I am a pirate, love.”

  Love? “Don’t call me that.” She presented her back and pulled the shirt down over her head.

  “Then what shall I call you?” he asked, his voice close, too close.

  “Miss Goswick.” Tugging her hair from beneath the shirt, she turned about and found him only a few steps away.

  “I think I like love better.” His eyes lingered on the open collar of the shirt, and her breath faltered in a silent stutter.

  The endearment would have to go. Most definitely. “Very well. My name is Charity. Charity Goswick.” She retrieved her gown from the floor and thrust it toward him. “My gown. I’ll need to bring it with me.”

  “As you wish…Charity,” he replied, her name a sensual whisper that made her shiver. He carried away her gown and petticoat, stepping outside the nook and disappearing from view.

  She rushed to finish changing before he returned, removing her remaining petticoats, hoop, and stockings. Listening for his footsteps, she donned the breeches, tucking the bottom of her shift inside. The breeches reached just past her calves, emphasizing the shape of her legs for all who cared to look. In heaven’s name. He expected her to walk about like this? She’d change back into her gown, if she still had it.