Tempting the Pirate

by Tamara Hughes

  Her continued silence bedeviled him. “You fear him. Tell me why.”

  She drew in a quivering breath, her shoulders drooping. “The last I saw Captain Shevington, he threatened to beat me if I didn’t speak my vows.”

  His jaw clamped tight. James had no words. What kind of man raised a hand to a woman? He pulled her closer, settling a kiss on her hair as they followed a flight of steps leading to the hold. If he had anything to say about it, she’d never see that devil again.

  Dark, damp, and cavernous, the hold was used for storage of larger items. The glow of the lantern barely penetrated the shadows, but revealed barrels and immense crates stacked in almost haphazard form.

  “We’ll rest over here.” James weaved through the piles to a far corner and set Charity on the floor. He took the lantern from her hands and placed it atop a crate, then sat next to her to remove his water-filled boots. He fished out his knife from his right one. “Let’s see to those slivers.” Once again, he brushed her hair to the side and examined the tiny wounds, concentrating on the larger splinters first.

  She sat quietly, cringing as he tugged the wood fragments free from the delicate skin of her neck.

  “Have you known Shevington long?” He couldn’t resist asking. How had a woman who had no fondness for men end up being forced to marry one who cared so little for women?

  Her brow furrowed and she studied a rip in her hem. She swallowed hard before she spoke. “No, not long at all. We only just met a couple of months ago. He’s distantly related to my uncle’s best friend, Paul Adler.”

  “You barely know the man, and he insisted you marry him?” Using the tip of his blade, he worked more splinters free.

  She let out a snort. “One day, I overheard my uncle and Mr. Adler talking about my dowry while well into their cups, and shortly thereafter, Richard Shevington began to pay visits. He put on the charm, saying he’d like to court me. Even when I told him I had no interest in becoming anyone’s wife, he refused to leave me alone.”

  “Never marry?” She’d rather be a spinster? Never have a family and a home to call her own?

  She hesitated, a contemplative look on her face. Finally, she shook her head. “He, in particular, would never appeal to me. Whenever he would visit, he got on so well with my uncle and his friends, with their gambling and women. In fact, they began spending more and more time together, having conversations behind closed doors. I should have known something wasn’t right. And then…”

  James shifted his knife to better coax a sliver from her arm. Almost done. “Then what?”

  “His attitude changed. He became tenacious, even aggressive in his pursuit. I tried to avoid him, but one night he caught me unaware. He shoved me into the parlor and shut the door.”

  James stiffened, drawing his blade away from her skin. “He what?”

  With a shudder, she pressed a hand to her lips. “He pinned me against the wall and…” She blinked rapidly and gave a sniff. “I tried to push him off, but he only strengthened his hold, his mouth grinding against mine with so much force I wondered if my teeth might shatter.”

  Clenching the hilt of his dagger in his hand, James envisioned what he’d do with Captain Shevington if given the chance.

  “His breath smelled of liquor. When I tried to scream, he slapped me across the face. He tore at my bodice and forced his leg between my…”

  He uttered a low curse, and she stopped, her gaze darting to him as if she’d forgotten he sat beside her. “I’m sorry. Just seeing him again…”

  “No need to apologize.” James forced his muscles to relax. Now wasn’t the time to make the captain atone for what he’d done. Not in the midst of a battle. But perhaps later.

  Charity’s lips curved in a weak smile. “Besides, it all ended well. I managed to get hold of a vase and smashed it over his head, stunning him long enough to flee.” That smile slipped away as quickly as it appeared. “Uncle Marshall wasn’t pleased by that,” she muttered. “A costly vase lost.”

  “A vase? What about you? What did your uncle do about Shevington?”

  A pitiful laugh escaped. “Nothing. Captain Shevington left the next morning only to return days ago to surprise me with our wedding. A wedding blessed by my uncle.” Her face crumpled with misery. Clutching her left hand to her chest, she absently rubbed her ring finger. “Dear God, what if I’m… I can’t be married to Richard Shevington, I can’t. I keep telling myself that, although the truth is I don’t know. It’s all a haze. My uncle drugged me. I’m sure of it.” Her hands dropped to her lap in a twisted knot. “I was wearing his ring.” Panic flared in her eyes, and she inhaled a ragged breath. “I remember him forcing me to say the vows… I should have fought harder. I should have refused to utter a single word.”

  The pain in her tone tore into him. He could take no more. “Stop. Your uncle is to blame, not you. He’s your guardian, your protector. He should have never agreed to the marriage without your consent.” The bastard. How could he not give a damn what happened to his niece?

  “Maybe so, but it’s too late. Captain Shevington may be my husband, a man who can control every aspect of my life. And he’s here now.” Her eyes flared wide, a glaze of tears making them glisten. “He probably followed me here somehow. To catch up with our ship, he would have had to leave not long after we did. How did he know?”

  A good question. He turned her about and drew her close, desperate to stop the tears from falling. “He’s come all this way for an unwilling wife? To force you into marriage?”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “The money and land he’ll get as my husband is substantial, and as the second son of an earl, he has none of his own. I had heard him say he hated life at sea and wanted nothing more than to finally be free of the Royal Navy.

  “What will I do if he finds me?” she groaned.

  If she was indeed married, Shevington could legally do with her whatever he wished. But what if she wasn’t? There had to be some way to know for sure. “You remember the vows, the ring… Did the ceremony end?”

  She leaned back, for the most part her composure restored. “I’m not sure.”

  “Did the minister say you were joined in marriage, united by God, or some such thing?”

  Her brow wrinkled and her eyes bored a hole in the floor as she contemplated his question. “I don’t believe so. The last I remembered was the ring sliding onto my finger before I fainted.”

  “Then you’re not married.” Not if they never finished the ceremony. He rubbed a hand along her back in a soothing stroke.

  “Are you sure?”

  Sadly, when dealing with crooked men, nothing was for certain. If the minister was bribed… “Were banns posted?”

  “I saw none.”

  “Did you sign any marriage documents?”

  “No.”

  Of one thing he could be sure. “In the eyes of God, you’re not married.” Unfortunately, in the eyes of man, documents could be forged, men of the cloth could lie. And proving these acts would be a difficult battle.

  Charity seemed to read his thoughts. “I’m not sure Captain Shevington will feel the same way. He was so determined to marry me.”

  He rose from the floor. “Then we’d best make sure he doesn’t find you.” Shevington or The Judge. The quartermaster had been ready to run her through. James began adjusting crates to better shield them. The lantern would have to be extinguished as well. “What did The Judge want with you?”

  She closed her eyes and winced. “I saw him kill Captain Payne. He stabbed him.”

  Of course. The Judge had found a perfect opportunity to take over the ship, assuming they would overcome the navy’s attack. James strained to push a hefty crate, and the tattered remains of his shirt stretched taut over the open sores on his back. Giving pause, he pulled the irritating material over his head, the action forcing a pained groan from his throat.

  “Your back. How does it fare?”

  “Nothing to worry about.” He ignored the s
ting as he slid another crate into place.

  She speared him with a stubborn gaze. “Are you sure?”

  Her insistence warmed a place close to his heart, but he saw no need for her concern. “The wounds are shallow. They’ll heal quickly enough.”

  “At least sit. They must pain you.” She pointed to the spot he’d vacated moments ago, her voice stern and demanding. The imp.

  “As you wish.” Their hiding place as well masked as he could make it, he sank to the floor beside her.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she set her chin on her bent knees. “What will we do now?”

  “We wait. Once the fight is over… Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter the victor. We’ll stay hidden until we dock and then find a way to reach shore without being seen by Shevington or The Judge.”

  Regardless of who won the skirmish, Charity would be at risk. Both men were eager to find her, their reasons different but no less malicious. And here he sat with only a short blade and the will to protect her, no matter the cost.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charity stepped from the dank cellar into the drizzle. The dark clouds still hung low, but the green cast the sky once had was gone. “Mama!” Pea-size hail littered the ground around her as she scanned the yard. There. A foot. Her chest aching, Charity ran toward the old oak tree where a large branch had fallen. “Mama?” Her mother lay sprawled beneath the broken tree limb, her eyes glassy and her face relaxed. “No!”

  Clasping the bottom of the branch, Charity strained to move the heavy piece. It wouldn’t budge. She tried again, and again. Her hands grew sore as the rough bark scraped her skin. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she dropped to the ground beside her mother, the pain eating her up from the inside out. And she knew… She was too late.

  She took her mother’s limp hand in her own and rocked back and forth. “Mama, why did you leave me?”

  Charity awakened with a start. A warm hand covered her mouth and an arm pulled her back against the hard chest of a man lying behind her. As the last dregs of her nightmare dissipated, she struggled to free herself until James’s voice, so soft and low she almost couldn’t hear it, feathered over her ear. “Shh.”

  James. Reality came back in a rush.

  She stilled, her muscles even more sore than they had been prior to falling asleep. In the distance, lantern light and footsteps approached. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if ready to flee without her. Slowly, James slid a coarse cloth up over their heads. The world became pitch-black once more, and the sounds outside their hiding place magnified.

  “This is a waste of time,” someone grumbled, his voice too close for comfort. “She’s dead. Blown off the ship by a cannon blast, someone said.”

  She? Oh, God. They were searching for her. Her breathing sped and she gasped for air, while trying desperately not to make a sound.

  James released her mouth and clasped the fingers of her hand resting near her face, his thumb stroking her skin in a soothing motion.

  “Quit yer moaning,” another man spat, this one farther away. “We’ll take a quick look, and be done. Then the captain will be satisfied, and we can be off.”

  The footfalls came closer. James’s light brush of her hand never faltered although his muscles at her back grew tense. What would they do if they were found? The arm around her waist stiffened and something in James’s hand nudged her abdomen. The hilt of his knife. Would a dagger be enough to defend them against two men?

  Light seeped in through a small opening in the fabric, and Charity held her breath. Lord, help them.

  “There’s no one here,” a voice said from over their heads.

  “Nothing over here either. Let’s go.”

  The glow moved away from them, and yet her pulse didn’t slow.

  They lay silent in the dark for several minutes, listening to the men’s departure, before James tugged the cloth away. Not that it mattered. Without a lantern, the darkness in the hold was so thick she could hardly tell if her eyes were open or closed. She sprang to her feet. Although the immediate threat was no longer there, the urge to escape still rode her strong, despite the fact that she had no place better to go. She almost stumbled as her head swam and her muscles screamed in protest at the swift movement. “They were looking for me.”

  “They were, but now they’re gone.” The air moved beside her, and James’s boots scraped the planks moments before his hands found her arms. “It’s going to be fine. Crew members on both ships saw you fall overboard and me jump in after you. They think we’re both dead.”

  “Then why—”

  He brushed his hands up and down her bare arms, avoiding the area where the many splinters had been plucked. “Captain Shevington insisted both ships be searched in case you managed to reboard.”

  “How do you know this?” She held back a shudder. Would the captain ever give up? Even if he thought her dead now, how could they possibly escape this ship without notice?

  “While you slept, I went on deck for a bit. That’s where I got the sailcloth to cover us should anyone come looking down here.”

  She nodded, trying her best to relax and calm her racing pulse. “The pirates were defeated?”

  “Yes. They’re locked within Neptune’s Mercy’s hold.”

  “Trapped. Just as we are.” She leaned toward him, sorely tempted to rest her head on his chest. Just having him close eased her mind and dulled her aches.

  “We’re not locked in.”

  “Not yet,” she muttered, then thought better of it. Their situation wasn’t as dire as that of the others. “What will you do about Whip?”

  James released a long breath. “And Thomas.”

  “Thomas?” She drew back with a scowl James couldn’t see. “I think he proved quite well he’s not your friend.”

  “Thomas did what he had to.”

  “He helped drag you from your cabin. He allowed The Judge to whip you.”

  James’s grip on her arms tightened before he released her. “What good would it have done if he’d thrown his lot in with ours? He knew The Judge wouldn’t kill me. A navigator is too hard to come by, especially on the open seas. I’m sure he’d hoped by playing along he might find an opportunity to help us. Sadly, there was little he could do under the circumstances.”

  She could see his point, and yet she wouldn’t concede, not yet. “Even after the fighting began, he left you tied to the mast.”

  James blew out a breath. “He attempted to release me, but The Judge wouldn’t have it. He ordered Thomas to leave me where I was.”

  “Defenseless?”

  “I was no threat to the Royal Navy crewmen who attacked. Why kill a man already imprisoned?” The sound of James’s voice moved toward the floor. “Both Thomas and Whip will be coming with me,” he vowed. “I won’t leave either of them behind.”

  Very well. She might have judged Thomas too harshly. “How? They’re both imprisoned.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  One option came to mind. If he turned her over to Captain Shevington, he could use the man’s gratitude to get his friends released. Yet, she knew in her heart he would never do such a thing. The thought warmed her, and gratitude welled up. Instead, he would risk himself and hide her, protect her.

  A spark flashed, and the lantern squeaked as James brought the wick to life. “Hungry?” He untied the edges of a linen cloth to reveal a small stack of biscuits.

  Charity squinted against the light after so long in the shadows. “Are you sure we should use the lantern?”

  “Should be safe enough for now. This area has already been searched.” James wore a different shirt, one threadbare and worn, but better than the shreds of his last. He held out a biscuit for her. “Come sit and have something to eat.”

  She sank onto the floor and took his offering, the bread hard to the touch. “Those men, they mentioned that we’d soon be on our way. Do you know where we’re headed?”

  Relaxing on the floor beside her, he bit into t
he biscuit and chewed. “New Providence.”

  A pirate’s haven? “Why?”

  James shrugged. “I suppose if he doesn’t have your money and land to rely on, Captain Shevington seeks to further his naval career by capturing a whole island of pirates.”

  “Is that why he’s keeping Neptune’s Mercy? Surely two ships cannot attack a place so large.”

  “He won’t attack now. No doubt they’ll lower the Union Flag before they dock, survey the situation, then return with a fleet to strike. They’ll confiscate whatever treasures they find and arrest those who stand in their way. In England, Captain Shevington will be a hero. No, they’re keeping Neptune’s Mercy because it was once a Royal Navy vessel, and he intends to return it to its proper place.”

  Captain Shevington would become a hero with no need of her. Perhaps all would work out well. “How does he even know of the place? The Judge would never tell, would he?”

  “From what I gather, Shevington discovered Neptune’s Mercy’s destination in New York when he was looking for you. He suspected you might be on board and investigated at a local tavern where the crew was last seen.”

  That made little sense. “Why would he suspect I was on the ship?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But if you’re no longer navigating…”

  “My maps are most clear. I have no doubt he’ll find the island without my help.”

  Hmm. And then what? Even if they escaped the ship unnoticed, and freed Whip and Thomas, where would they go? Could they find someone willing to help them off the island? Not that she had a destination in mind. She took a bite of the biscuit in her hand. Or tried to. Her teeth barely sank in. Somehow she managed to snap off a chunk. Dry and largely flavorless.

  When she looked over at James, he fought a smile as he watched her chew. “My apologies, love. This hardtack is all I could find. I’ll try again later.”

  “It’s not so bad,” she lied. After all, he wasn’t at fault, and she’d best make do.

  One of his eyebrows slanted in a skeptical look, and she gave a short laugh.