Tempting the Pirate

by Tamara Hughes

  Blast it. She held up the gaping waist of her breeches, gathered her underthings and stepped back into the maze of crates. The rustle of fabric led her to James, where he finished pressing her gown inside a box and added a lid.

  He looked up from his task to inspect her appearance, his inspection fixed on her lower half. She cringed, then bristled. For the love of… Could he not spare her the constant regard of her person? Enough. “I thank you to keep your eyes in your head.”

  James rose and pulled his blade from its sheath. He cut a length of rope from a coil near the wall, the blade slicing through the thick braid with ease. She felt her face blanch, tiny, cold ripples that tightened and flexed. How easily she’d forgotten he was a dangerous pirate. One she couldn’t afford to risk angering for petty reasons like pride.

  When he approached her, she would have backed up a step if her legs hadn’t threatened to buckle at the slightest move.

  An indulgent smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “As much as I would enjoy a look, you may want to keep your breeches up once we leave this room.” He winked and handed her the length of cord.

  She stared down at the rope in her hand and exhaled a long breath, her flustered nerves taking their time to settle. What was she doing here in the company of a pirate? Insanity. A thought dawned. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere safe.” James relieved her of the hoop and petticoats she held. “I’ll return for these. We can’t risk taking them now,” he muttered, disappearing into the maze.

  Somewhere safe. Was there such a thing on a ship full of pirates? Rolling her shoulders, she willed herself calm. It would do her no good to let her nerves get the best of her. No good at all. Charity tied the rope about her waist, and spied a tricorn hat in the weathered chest. She piled her hair atop her head, securing it with what few pins remained, and donned the battered headgear.

  Her gaze lifted to find the pirate had returned. He stood before her as if in a trance. His attention focused on her shirt, more specifically the rise of her breasts pushed up by the stays she refused to remove. She crossed her arms over her chest, ready to fight the suggestion if he offered it.

  “Very nice, love. Very nice, indeed.” His wicked dimple reappeared. “Unfortunately, we’ll need to keep those covered.” He handed her the box containing her gown, and she caught a flare of unease in his eyes.

  His doubts, no matter how small, worried her. What if she were found out? Could he protect her from his shipmates? Then again, why would he? She clutched the box to her chest as he shoved the old trunk back into place. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. She’d put her faith in a pirate, a criminal who could be leading her to his crazed captain in the hopes of a larger share of her ransom.

  He picked up the wine bottle and lantern.

  “Shoes?” she asked, her feet bare.

  “You won’t need them.” He strode to the door. “Very few wear them once on board.”

  She thought to follow, but her feet refused to move. Living with Uncle Marshall had taught her to trust no one. All those she’d ever trusted had left, or betrayed her for their own gain. What were this pirate’s motives? How would he benefit from hiding her away from the others?

  James turned around with a curious look when he noticed she hadn’t joined him. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

  She gazed deeply into his eyes, hoping to glean some bit of truth from their depths. The concern she detected there raised her hopes. Really, what choice did she have in the matter? He’d found her, and for now she would follow his lead.

  Calmness settled over her as she accepted her fate. In her four and twenty years, she had survived much, and she would survive this, too.

  “Stay behind me,” he whispered before sweeping the door wide and stepping through.

  Charity followed the pirate. To salvation or to hell, she would soon find out.

  Chapter Three

  Dear Lord in heaven. The moment Charity stepped from the storage room, a drone of snores and incoherent mutterings greeted her. Men of every shape, size, and odor slept on the floor of the long corridor, taking up as much space as the six sizable cannons lining the walls would allow. Inhaling through her mouth, she grimaced against the rank smell of unwashed bodies and stale rum that infused the air.

  James led the way, ducking beneath hammocks strung throughout the room like massive webs, each heavy with its catch. He glanced toward her, the look on his face wary. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to follow.

  She fought the overwhelming urge to turn back and instead searched for her next step, peering around the box in her arms. James would find her a safe place. She latched onto that thought, whether true or not, as she lifted her foot and eased it between two bodies. Soon she’d be back in her own garments in a place where none of these men would find her. All she needed to do was take one step and another…

  James stood rigid at the far door, his gaze darting toward every movement and sound.

  As she waded through the sea of bodies, her bare foot poked a rib, then an arm. One man groaned, and she froze, letting out a measured breath as he rolled to his side.

  When at last she stepped clear, James grabbed her shoulders and turned her away from prying eyes. He focused his attention on the men behind her and tucked a stray lock of hair beneath her tricorn hat. His fingers swept across her cheek, and she jerked away, her skin tingling from the brief touch.

  His eyes returned to hers with a knowing look on his face.

  Despicable. Never before had she met such a presumptuous devil. She opened her mouth, an assortment of insults ready on her tongue…and remembered where they stood. The stench alone was enough to propel her through the door.

  Outside, she drank in deep gulps of fresh air, thankful to be free of that fetid place. Shades of yellow and orange streaked the sky, and she stared out at the horizon. Nothing but miles of water surrounded them. Miles and miles. She tried to swallow and couldn’t. Her throat squeezed shut as the ship shrunk, its sides closing in on her. Trapped. In the middle of the ocean with James and his foul brethren. What had she gotten herself into? She gazed up and spied a pirate’s flag, a laughing skull that dripped blood. Sweet heaven save me.

  James nudged her along, then led her up a flight of stairs to another deck where more men slept. In the sunlight, their threadbare clothes and various weapons were vividly displayed. Pistols, swords, knives of all sizes…

  “Her name is Mary,” a drunken voice insisted from her right side. “You got that, Fisher? You do know how to spell.”

  Two men sat near the rail, one with his sleeve held high, a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand.

  With a scowl of concentration, the one beside him poked a needle into his fleshy arm. “Aye, Mary.” This second man looked oddly familiar.

  Charity’s steps slowed as she tried to remember where she’d seen his well-lined face.

  After a long drink from the bottle, the first man gave a short grunt of pain. “A more comely lass I never saw,” he said on a sigh, a randy smile revealing his blackened teeth. “So buxom and lusty, I hated to leave her.”

  “Sounds like true affection,” Fisher mumbled as he tattooed the name Mery onto the wretch’s arm.

  “Aye, the closest I’ll ever come to it.”

  Fisher’s voice had a slight scratchiness. So familiar. She could hear it in her head…“Sweeting,” it said.

  A hand grasped Charity’s arm, and she jumped.

  James leaned in. “Keep moving,” he warned. He released her and strode ahead.

  “Lamont,” a sailor called from the helm above.

  Lowering her chin, she fixed her stare on the deck and waited, sure one of these men would guess she didn’t belong. Perhaps Fisher or his friend.

  James didn’t miss a step. “Stay the course. I’ll be up in a moment,” he yelled back as he steered her through a doorway. A long oak table occupied most of the narrow space inside, while doors ran along the perimeter—two on either side, an
d one straight ahead.

  They entered the first door on the left. She scanned the cramped quarters. Two steps inside the door, she reached a narrow cot fastened to the wall with a well-oiled cedar chest at its foot. Her gaze traveled to a desk along the far wall covered in maps and navigational tools. “Whose cabin is this?”

  “Mine.”

  Charity turned to face James in time to see him lock the door. She stiffened, her back as straight as Miss Biddle’s cane. Maybe this man wasn’t so different from Captain Shevington, the pig who’d cornered her in the parlor with the intent of forcing himself on her. “So this is your ploy.” Slamming the box onto the bed, she seethed. “You agree to help me, only to lead me to your cabin as your personal captive, to do with as you will?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he cautioned. “Unless, of course, you’d like our friends out there to join us.”

  Fury boiled inside her stomach until steam rose up her throat, ready to scald him with her spite. “Never trust a man. He always has ulterior motives,” she hissed, quoting advice that had been pounded into her head.

  “What did you say?”

  “Something Miss Biddle… Never mind. Unlock the door.”

  “Where do you plan to go?” With the smugness of a man who could foretell the future and liked what he saw, James pulled the cord that hung from his neck, producing a red silk pouch from beneath his shirt. He dropped the key inside. “There are more than one hundred men aboard this ship. They eat and sleep wherever they can. As you just witnessed, many are forced to sleep on the deck because there’s not enough room below. There is no other place I can take you, love.”

  The endearment chafed, but she held her tongue, the truth of his words sinking in.

  He hung the lantern on a wall peg and crossed to the desk, resting the wine bottle on its surface. “You’ll be safe here.”

  “May I assume, then, that you’ll be staying elsewhere?”

  “You may not.” He laughed, the sound as irritating as a burr stuck to her stocking. “I could hardly explain abandoning my quarters, a luxury provided only to a few. What’s more, I have no greater desire to sleep with the crew than you do.” His gaze returned to her, a smile playing upon his lips. “I’d much rather take in the sights my cabin has to offer.”

  Did he purposely provoke her? “I insist you take me back to the storage room.”

  “My apologies, but you’re not giving the orders here,” he warned softly. “You will stay in this cabin until we reach port.” James scanned the maps spread out on the desk as if dismissing the topic altogether.

  The gall of this man. She strode to the desk, half tempted to snatch his ridiculous charts from under his nose. “I cannot possibly stay here with you.”

  “Your concern is duly noted,” he muttered as he consulted a compass and lifted a tool from the desk to measure a distance on his map.

  “Mr. Lamont,” she bit out. “I insist—”

  James straightened, giving her his full attention. “It seems your gratitude is as fickle as your affections.”

  Fickle? “Explain yourself.”

  “You say your uncle has chosen an unsuitable husband for you?” James stepped forward until he towered over her. “Tell me, who is he?”

  What did that matter? “A Royal Navy captain… The son of an earl.”

  “Impressive,” he said, that one word sharp with disdain.

  Hardly. “He’s the second son.”

  “Ah. I see. Not the heir you were hoping for?” He held her chin in a gentle grip, and her mind flew to another man who had grasped her face like this, but in a viselike hold. You’ll put a smile on your pretty face and do as I bid.

  Outrage rose like bile in her throat, and she slapped his cheek, the smart clap of skin on skin startling her.

  James didn’t move or retaliate in any way.

  The sharp edge of her anger dulled along with the memory, and she stared at her hand. “First or second son had nothing to do with… Oh, it’s all very easy for you to mock me when you have nothing to lose.” Her gaze rose to his piercing eyes. Dear Lord. She’d slapped a pirate. Not a wise move, she was sure. She backed away.

  He followed her retreat, his movements stealthy, almost predatory. “Nothing to lose? Women are considered bad luck at sea. If you’re found in my cabin, the punishment will be severe.”

  Her back came up against the wall behind her, and she flinched. James lifted an arm over her head and leaned forward with a slow, devilish smile. “Like it or not, we will be sharing this cabin.” He took her hand in his and settled a soft kiss on her stinging palm.

  She tugged her hand from his grasp. Was it true? He risked himself to help her? With James standing so close, she couldn’t think. “This cabin is too small for the two of us.”

  He brushed a thumb along her jaw, and she clamped her mouth shut, smothering her gasp. His touch awakened every nerve in her skin.

  “Even small cabins are hard to come by. Be thankful I have one.” With a twinkle in his eye, James eased away. “As it is, I had to make the last navigator’s wife a widow to get it.”

  She clung to the wall behind her. A widow? He’d killed the man for a cabin?

  He chuckled as he walked back to his desk and picked up an oddly shaped instrument. “Sorry, love, but I’m needed on deck.” As he returned to the door, his gaze raked her from her large shirt to her bare feet, and her heart picked up its pace.

  “A woman in men’s clothes.” He shook his head. “I’d have never suspected the sight would be so alluring. Feel free to leave those garments on if it pleases you. Such a pity to hide those delectable curves under so many petticoats.” He fished the key from his pouch, his lips twisting into a smile that left no doubt to the turn of his thoughts. “Then again, you’re a tasty tidbit no matter what you wear.”

  James left the cabin and relocked the door, leaving Charity to stare after him in stunned silence. How had her life taken such a turn?

  …

  James thrust the key into the lock of his cabin door and rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the growing ache there. Damn it. As navigator, he’d had little time to continue his search for David, not that he had any place he could think of left to look. David had to be here somewhere. But where? Whip and Thomas had been no more successful. Between the three of them, they should have found something.

  James heaved a sigh. He should have sent both men back to England with his ship. But Whip and Thomas had insisted they wouldn’t let him go it alone. Now, they too were pirates—a carpenter and a cook. James smothered a dispirited laugh. Whip as cook, God help them.

  Hoisting the bulging burlap sack onto his shoulder, he opened his cabin door and crossed the threshold. Charity came into view, her hand releasing a fistful of her overly long gown. He’d kept her a secret from Thomas and Whip. If caught with her, at least only he would suffer, and the consequences be damned, he wasn’t about to leave a woman unprotected on a ship of pirates.

  Without her hoop and petticoats, her hem spilled into a pool on the floor. Her cheeks were flushed, and her kerchiefed bodice rose and fell in short breaths as if she hadn’t expected him to return so soon. Curious. He set down his burden and closed the door behind him, relocking it as an extra precaution. “What have you been doing?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered, awkwardly plucking at an errant thread on her sleeve. “What is there to do locked away in a small room?”

  What indeed. He glanced around the cabin. Nothing seemed out of place.

  Despite her sudden interest in removing every speck of lint from her gown, whatever she’d been up to had nothing to do with her appearance. Her wavy, dark hair drooped to her shoulder on one side while pins still struggled to hold the rest in place.

  And yet, the more he studied her, the less he cared about what she chose to hide. She was a rare sight to behold. High, delicate cheekbones, a lush mouth, thick eyelashes fanning over clear blue eyes…and a stubborn chin, which grew increasingly tense the l
onger he looked her way.

  “Kindly stop staring at me.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest, drawing his regard to the kerchief tucked primly into her bodice, delicate lace that clung to her skin.

  “Ah, can you blame me? You are by far the most delectable view in this room.”

  An enchanting blush crept over her flawless skin, and her gaze dropped. She studied the floor, her fingers absently rubbing her lips, a mixture of anger and confusion warring over her features. “I’d rather you not… I’d rather you just go about your business and pretend I’m not here.”

  “Charity, Charity,” he chided softly. “You ask the impossible.”

  Her eyes met his with defiance, and she braced her feet apart, her back so rigid she’d grown a full inch. “Try.”

  Her spunk tickled something deep inside him, but he held back the chuckle that threatened. If he ever planned to settle down, she’d be a perfect example of what he’d look for. Such fire. But land ashore wasn’t in his blood, and never would be. Still, if he had more time, he’d enjoy teasing her a bit more. Sadly, this stop was meant to be a short one before he returned to his duties. “I brought you breakfast, such as it is.” He crossed to the desk and set a hunk of cheese and a jug of water on its surface. “My apologies. The galley isn’t quite ready to turn out real food yet.”

  She watched him closely, yet made no move to accept the offering. No doubt, she hadn’t yet warmed to the idea of sharing his cabin. A pity. Perhaps this would help. He removed a sharpening stone from the burlap and dumped the rest of the sack’s contents onto the floor. Her petticoats formed a tall heap. “Unfortunately, there’s no way I can bring your hoop here without questions being raised. Still, these should help with the length of your gown.”

  Her glare would have frozen a lesser man to death. Such a beauty, but so stiff and proper, more apt to fight a man than to persuade him to yield. She’d never last out in the world on her own. “Once you leave this ship, what do you plan to do? Do you have relatives I can deliver you to? I’d feel better about not returning you to your uncle if I had someone I could take you to, someone who will care for you.”