Tempting the Pirate

by Tamara Hughes

  Another creak reached her as the lid closed. “Ah, ah. Hands to the chair if you please,” he reminded her, his mischievous smile apparent in his every word.

  She gripped the polished wood as she imagined his intense eyes watching her every movement, her every breath, and her body trembled, not with anxiety, but with exhilaration.

  “Sadly, it’s true,” he said. “I won’t be taking you at your word. Still, you won’t even pretend to make such promises? You’re a stubborn one, to be sure.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She turned her head toward the rustle of fabric.

  “Very well. Then I’ll have to make sure I find a place you’ll never think of looking.” The richness of his voice bathed her in a thrilling eddy of sensation. Dear God, what was wrong with her? With a simple blindfold, he’d ensnared her. Her senses fixed on him—his voice, his scent, every sound he made.

  Somehow she reined in her scattered emotions. “Good luck to you. This is a small room.” She even managed to keep her tone even and calm.

  “Hmm. Indeed.”

  This test of will would be over soon. It had to be. If only he would keep his mouth closed, perhaps time would move faster. “You’d best quit talking now,” she warned, praying he’d take her advice to heart, “or I’ll know where you’re hiding your money.”

  His footfalls stopped. “It’s not likely to matter. As you’ve said, it’s a small room.” He gave a soft chuckle that seeped past her calm exterior to radiate warmth inside her chest. “Or do you want me quiet because you’re just tired of me.”

  She held her tongue, and tried to ignore the effect he had on her, the ripple of excitement that leaped from her stomach to her toes.

  “Have you grown tired of me?” The featherlike tickle of his breath on her face returned, and the low rumble of his voice so close to her ear teased her senses.

  She released the chair, prepared to remove the scarf, but warm hands engulfed hers, holding them in place.

  “I didn’t say I was finished,” he said in little more than a whisper.

  A gasp escaped her at the contact, his strong hands gentle but firm.

  “Are you afraid?” His hold relaxed a degree.

  Maybe she should be, and yet… “No.”

  “I’m glad.” He rubbed his thumbs along the backs of her hands, his touch rousing sensations that addled her mind.

  She bit her lip as his hands rose to skim along her arms. Even through the fabric of her sleeves, his fingers awakened every nerve.

  He stroked a path from her shoulder to the hollow of her throat, then higher to rest just beneath her chin. “I’ll never hurt you, love. You can count on that.”

  A faint whisper in the back of her mind warned her to pull away even as she craved more.

  His lips grazed her temple, then her nose, the gentle kisses fleeting, yet potent. She could think of nothing else but wanting more. He tilted her chin up with the barest nudge, and his breath swept over her lips. “Not all men are the monsters you think we are.”

  All men. A faint thread of doubt crept into her fogged mind. All men. Miss Biddle and her warnings of seduction and restraint. Sweet heaven.

  Charity leaned back, away from temptation. This man was skilled. He’d almost made her forget everything she’d been taught with a few caresses and some kind words. “Are you about done, or do you plan to hide one coin at a time?” she demanded.

  James didn’t touch her, but she could still feel the warmth from his body. “I’m done for now.”

  “Then release me.”

  He didn’t move, just hovered over her, making her wonder what he might do next as her pulse flittered and twitched. His fingers brushed her hair away from her ear, and he shifted as a loud rap shook the door. She jumped at the sudden sound, and a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

  “Easy now,” James whispered. He pulled the scarf from her face and grasped her hand, pulling her up from the chair. His hands on her shoulders, he steered her back against the wall and urged her into a crouch by the desk. “Stay there.”

  Again someone pounded on the door. “Lamont,” a voice called, rending the air like the crack of a whip.

  She huddled next to the desk, her nerves rattling against her bones as James opened the door. “Can I help you with something, Judge?”

  Judge?

  “Let’s go,” Judge ordered. “Time to sign on the account.”

  Without a look back, James blew out the lantern and left the room. The key clicked in the lock.

  Charity rose on unsteady legs, Judge’s sharp demands still grating over her nerves. Would James be safe in his company? She rubbed her arms over her pebbled skin. Why should she care? Yet in some small way she did. She glanced at the desk where the food he’d brought her lay. Leaning over, she sniffed the contents of the bowl and grimaced at the thick layer of fat covering its surface. She snatched up the biscuit and picked at it, but her craving for food faded as her rebellious mind turned to the memory of James’s lips so close to hers. What would they have tasted like? What would… Rolling her eyes heavenward, she tore off a chunk and sank her teeth into the hard, flavorless bread.

  …

  “Where’s my brother?” Settling his scarf back on his head, James strode alongside The Judge, the quartermaster’s continued silence irritating as hell. Once again, The Judge didn’t answer. Instead, he shoved James through the door to the captain’s cabin and followed him inside. James stumbled forward and righted himself. The Judge’s show of power didn’t surprise him. Intimidation was his game. No doubt it served him well as quartermaster.

  Captain Payne sat behind a desk before a bank of windows stretching the width of the room. His fine coat was vivid blue velvet, a stark contrast to the unkempt red hair that hung to his shoulders. In the light of the lantern propped on the desk, he appeared more a street beggar in a stolen coat than a pirate captain. A bulbous nose poked out above a wiry mustache and beard, and a glint of gold dangled from each ear.

  “Ah, our new sailing master. Join me.” The captain waved him over, his voice booming.

  The Judge assumed a position at the side of the desk as James stepped forward.

  “I’ve heard you’ve been prowling around my ship.” Captain Payne fingered a mass of gold chains around his neck. “Looking for anything in particular?”

  The captain’s observation came as no surprise. Still, the answer James had prepared stuck in his throat as The Judge’s wide lips curled almost imperceptibly.

  “He searches for his brother,” The Judge answered for him, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “David Lamont.”

  “David, you say?” The captain’s shaggy brows drew together. “I don’t recall…”

  The Judge’s stony gaze never left James’s face. “A musician. He played the violin.”

  The captain nodded. “That one. Of course. I see the resemblance now. The chin and nose—”

  “Where is he?” Without thinking, James took a step.

  The Judge dropped a hand to the hilt of his knife, and James stilled, remembering on whose ship he stood. Letting on how much this mattered would only give the captain an added advantage. Get yourself together, Lamont. Adventures, games. He excelled at them. Hell, he lived for them. But this one—David. The outcome was too important.

  With a look of feigned regret, the captain motioned James to a chair. “Prepare yourself. It’s a sad story, to be sure.”

  He ignored the gesture as an overwhelming sense of dread burned a path down his spine.

  “The boy never took to pirating. So desperate to get home.” The captain waggled his finger in the air. “I told him, ‘Once you join the crew, you stay.’”

  The Judge’s mouth thinned into a line of annoyance. “He deserted and paid the price.”

  “What price?” James demanded, but he already knew.

  The captain leaned forward as if to share a protected secret. “The Judge can be a bit harsh in his punishments.”

  James turned to The J
udge, spying a black cross tattooed on the quartermaster’s right arm, a symbol suggesting mercy where there would be none. “What punishment did he receive?”

  The Judge’s cold expression didn’t waver. “Death.”

  It didn’t matter that he knew the blow was coming, the news still staggered him. “You told me I could find my brother if I signed up.”

  “I lied,” The Judge said, his voice as calm as death itself. “He’s at the bottom of the sea.”

  No. He wouldn’t believe it, not without proof. James schooled his features despite the deep ache that spread throughout his chest. “What happened to his things—his violin?”

  “All gone. They were thrown overboard with him.” The captain retrieved a leather-bound book and a Bible from a desk drawer. “Now then. Our articles are few.” He handed the Bible to The Judge. “Put your hand on the Lord’s word, Navigator.”

  The Judge held out the Bible, ready to receive James’s oath of loyalty. The Judge’s lips didn’t move, but his eyes spoke volumes.

  There was no going back. From their point of view, he’d already joined up. This was merely a formality. James set his hand on the holy book, the dust on the worn cover gritty beneath his palm.

  “All booty shall be shared amongst the crew. If a man is found withholding a prize valued equal or greater than one piece of eight, death shall be his punishment.” The captain examined his filthy nails while he recited the articles in a bored mumble. “No boy or woman shall be hidden aboard ship, and no man may meddle with a prudent woman without her consent. The punishment for both is death…”

  Was David really dead? It couldn’t be possible. James’s throat tightened until he could barely breathe. This was his fault. If he hadn’t convinced David to give sailing a go, he’d be alive. No, David wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.

  “Desertion is not allowed, punishment for such is…well, usually it’s Moses’s Law, forty stripes less one on the back.”

  “Say your vow,” The Judge ordered in a low rumble.

  James swallowed the rising bile in his throat. “I swear.”

  The captain slid a massive leather book toward James and opened it to a page bearing a list of names and scrawled X’s. He pointed to an open spot and handed James a quill. “Make your mark here.”

  James signed the paper, his eyes scanning the names above for the one he knew so well.

  Captain Payne jerked the book away before he could find it. “Welcome aboard, Navigator. Henceforth, you will receive one and a half share of all booty. Unless you are maimed, then you will be awarded a one-time payment—600 pieces of eight for an arm, 100 for a finger.” With a hearty sigh and a broad rotting grin, the captain rose and crossed to a cabinet, retrieving three glasses and a bottle. “A drink is in order.” He poured out a finger for each of them.

  James’s stomach roiled at the thought of a toast. He had nothing to celebrate, but best to keep up pretenses, for the time being. Something wasn’t right here. The Judge’s lies tainted the air, and he would find out the truth or die trying. He picked up the offered drink and knocked it back, the rum’s cloying sweetness nauseating.

  “Now that you’re one of us, a warning to you, Lamont.” The captain took a swallow of his rum. “Keep your door locked.”

  A threat? James glanced between the two men.

  The captain laughed, the sound akin to someone averting a sneeze. “Easy, man. I’m simply giving you fair warning. No doubt you’ve brought a sizable sum aboard in the event you’d be paying a ransom to get your brother back. Once word spreads…”

  The greedy glint in the captain’s eye spoke more of a veiled threat than a friendly warning. James managed a smile. Anyone who tried to steal from his cabin would find something else entirely. Or rather someone else. “I have to admit, I lied, too. There is no ransom money.”

  The captain chuckled again, his disbelief plain to see.

  “I’ve been looking for my brother because he owed me money. I came to collect.” He had no choice, yet the lie sliced deep. After all his brother had been through, to soil his name… James smothered a curse, eager to be gone from this cabin.

  The captain scratched his graying beard as if contemplating the possibility. “Must have been a considerable amount to bring you aboard my ship.”

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it?” James set down his empty glass and stepped toward the door. “If you have nothing further…”

  “By all means, Navigator,” the captain said, taking another sip of his rum.

  The Judge stood impassively, his drink still untouched. He gave nothing away as to his thoughts or motives. There was more going on here than he let on. David’s death had to be a lie.

  He glanced at the captain who cheerfully poured himself another drink.

  Unless The Judge’s lies were for the captain’s benefit? Perhaps he wanted the captain to have no part in his schemes, whatever they may be.

  James clung to that thought. The alternative was too painful to bear.

  Chapter Five

  As James crossed to the lantern in the corner, Charity silently sank back into her chair near the door, thankful he’d returned unharmed. There’d been something in that Judge’s gruff voice that had made the hairs at her nape stand up on end, her every instinct warning her of his ill nature. If anything happened to James… Well, she’d be left here alone, locked inside this cabin. “Who is Judge?”

  A flame flared to life, the lantern relit, and James turned about. “They call him The Judge, and he’s the quartermaster,” he muttered. His features lacked their usual verve. Instead, he seemed somber, pensive.

  “Quartermaster?” She knew little about life at sea, having never traveled herself. The term meant nothing to her.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, James stepped to the desk where a hammock lay in a bundle on the floor, one he’d brought in when he’d arrived. “He’s second-in-command aboard the ship.”

  He bent low over the mass of knotted rope. His shirt stretched taut over lean muscle that flexed with each movement. She’d never given much thought to the lines of a man’s back. The contours of that broad expanse shifted and stretched as he moved his arms to untangle the ropes. She ran her hands along her petticoat and wondered what those well-formed muscles would feel like beneath her fingertips.

  The thought brought her up short. She settled her hands on her burning cheeks, so hot by rights her fingers should catch flame. Never before had she had such thoughts… Charity forced her attention to the window and the night sky beyond, determined to set her mind on a new path. “The Judge seemed quite ironhanded…” Her mouth stone dry, her voice cracked. With a cringe, she cleared her throat and tried again, “In the way he ordered you from the cabin.”

  “Hmm.” He frowned and his eyebrows slanted as if something didn’t agree with him. He hefted the mass of ropes. His arms bulged with the effort. Bringing it closer, he positioned the bulk of the hammock on the floor and lifted one end to the wall hook above her head.

  “Is something wrong?”

  His lips curved into a wan smile. “No. Nothing at all.”

  A lie if she ever heard one. Something disturbed him greatly. That much was obvious. His wide chest loomed over her, his hips at her eye level. Slender hips that led to strong, muscular legs… She sucked in a lungful of air and rose to her feet, heading to the window as a drop of sweat trickled between her breasts. “You can tell me. I have no one I can spill your secrets to.”

  Standing beside the bed, she scanned the star-filled night, the vastness a reminder of their insignificance in this world and on this ship.

  “Can I help you loosen your stays, love?” James’s voice rumbled in her ear, and his breath warmed her neck.

  A flutter of excitement sprang to life before she squashed it flat. She spun about to face him. “Most certainly not.” How had he approached so silently?

  “You’ll be uncomfortable in bed,” he said with an impish glint in his eyes.

  “Move away.�
� She tried to push him back, but when her palm touched the firm heat of his chest, her hand shrank from him.

  A mischievous smile crossed his lips. “A goodnight kiss then?”

  “You are too forward by far,” she gasped, struggling to ignore the effect of his devastating smile. “If you insist on continuing this behavior, I’ll need to leave this cabin and find somewhere else to hide.”

  “Where would I take you?” His gaze fixed on her mouth as if fascinated. “No other place aboard this ship will offer you more protection from discovery.”

  She’d never been more aware of her lips than now. Her every inhale and exhale grazed them in a most unnerving way. She swept her tongue over them in an effort to stop the sensation, and his eyes darkened. Oh my. She raised a hand to her mouth and focused her thoughts. He couldn’t dissuade her with simple flirtations. She wouldn’t allow it. “Then give me the key.”

  His stare rose to her eyes once again, and his smile broadened, that wicked dimple appearing in his cheek. “No.”

  For the love of… If she weren’t so afraid they’d be discovered, she’d scream. “What if the key is taken from you? If I have the key, I can keep the door locked.”

  He shook his head, that vexing grin still on his face. “If you had the key, you could lock me out of my own cabin.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Perhaps not.” James shrugged. “Even so, from everything you’ve said, I have no reason to trust that you won’t walk out the door as soon as the key is in your hand.”

  “But—”

  He held two fingers to her lips, silencing her. “I won’t let anyone else have the key.”

  Such confidence. Or rather, arrogance. One man against a ship full of thieves? Ready to argue the matter, she pulled back. His fingers stayed with her, preventing another word.

  “You don’t believe me?”