Tempting the Pirate

by Tamara Hughes

  She made a sound of frustration, something halfway between a growl and a groan. “I’m not some helpless woman to be hidden away.”

  Outside in the sea of pirates below, Whip stood, scanning the street. He’d escaped? “Stay here.” James strode to the door.

  “But—”

  “Stay,” he ordered, his tone sharp. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Surprisingly, she did as he asked. He rushed down the stairs and into the tavern, heading for the door to the street. The noise in the room had increased. At midafternoon, the place was only growing louder, drunker. No doubt the rest of the town would be the same.

  Once in the street, James searched for Whip, finally finding him in front of an inn. “Whip. Over here.”

  Whip’s bushy gray brows rose, and a smile widened his lips.

  “This way.” James waved Whip to follow and he retraced his path into the tavern and straight to the stairs, where he tossed a coin to the man stationed at the steps. The man gave an odd look when Whip followed him up, but said not a word. James knocked on the bedroom door. “It’s me,” he called through the panel.

  The bolt grated, and the door opened as Charity peeked outside. With a sigh, she swung it wide to allow them entry.

  “Where’s Thomas?” James asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  “Farther on down the street,” Whip replied. “Thought we’d find you faster if we split up.”

  “How did you get free?” Charity chimed in. “I thought when the navy captured the ship, the entire crew was locked below decks.”

  “We were.” Whip nodded. “Until that cap’n saw you leavin’ his ship this mornin’. He ordered The Judge be pulled from the hold and asked him who you might be with.”

  Damn. The Judge had no reason to hold back anything.

  “The Judge convinced the cap’n that he could find the two of you if he set some of us free and put a bounty on yer heads,” Whip clarified.

  “A bounty?” Charity’s voice rose in pitch, and she backed toward the window.

  “How much?” James asked.

  “Fifty pieces of eight,” Whip answered. “That cap’n must want her real bad.”

  “Oh.” Charity’s hand rose to her mouth, the terror in her eyes a kick to his ribs.

  He was sorely tempted to go to her and hold her in his arms, to assure her he’d keep her safe, but it wouldn’t be that easy. Shevington would see to that. “Captain Shevington wants to become Charity’s husband.”

  Whip gave a long whistle. “I’ll be hanged.” He turned to Charity, who stood to the side of the window to peek down at the street. “How’d you go and get mixed up with him?”

  Flinching at the words, she wrapped her arms around herself. “My uncle arranged the marriage.” She drove two fingertips into the spot just above the bridge of her nose as if trying to scour the memory from her mind.

  “I take it you don’t want him?” Whip asked.

  Charity shook her head and stared down at the floor.

  If Shevington found her, there would be hell to pay. She’d run from him on their wedding night. Worse, she was no longer a virgin. James had seen to that earlier today. Damn it.

  Not that it mattered. He drew in a deep breath and paced the room. Shevington would never see her again. Never. “We have to make her disappear,” he muttered, a plan forming in his mind. “We’ll find Thomas and arrange a ship to take us all back to London.”

  Charity’s gaze darted back to him. “London?”

  James shrugged. “It’s better than New York,” he reminded her. “And here.”

  “It won’t do,” Whip insisted.

  “What do you mean?” What else was there to do?

  “With all this talk of Cap’n Shevington and The Judge, I almost forgot.” Whip mumbled a curse, his finger stabbing toward James. “You’ve got a ship to catch.”

  James cast him a wary look. Had the old man finally lost his mind? “Yes, we were just discussing—”

  “No, not that ship, the other one.” Whip cussed again and raised a hand before James could question him further. “When I was askin’ around if anyone had seen James Lamont, another Lamont name came up. Seems there’s this pirate, Cap’n Fry, who says he’s seen yer brother.”

  The hope of finding David flickered to life once again. “When? Here?” He almost shouted the words in his impatience to learn more.

  “Don’t know. Didn’t have time to ask him about it,” Whip admitted. “They were in a mighty big hurry to return to their ship.”

  “Why? Are they leaving?” He glanced at Charity. As important as it was to get her off this island, he needed to know.

  “’Fraid so. Seems they’ve run into some trouble here in New Providence and need to shove off real quick.” Excitement lit Whip’s eyes. “But you can find out. Go on after them.”

  Did he have time? “How long ago did you talk to them?”

  Whip winced. “By my estimates, you’d just be able to board her before she’s off.”

  James’s legs itched to run out the door and down to the docks before it was too late, but what of Charity? “Why didn’t you ask them yourself?” he asked Whip, his exasperation making his tone sharp.

  “I tried,” Whip insisted. “They didn’t want to talk. They only had a mind to get on out of here fast.”

  This Captain Fry had seen David since he’d escaped The Judge. He might know where David was now, why he hadn’t come home…but Charity… Gah! James raked both hands through his hair, giving a good tug at the roots.

  “Maybe they’ll take Charity, too,” James muttered, his mind churning through the possibilities.

  Whip’s grunt challenged the idea before he uttered a word. “Most cap’ns don’t want no woman aboard. They’re bad luck and a distraction to the men.”

  Still, what would it hurt to ask? James smothered a foul oath. Too risky. A woman in the tavern might be easily overlooked, but one on the docks…particularly one asking to board a leaving ship. Damn.

  “Go.” Charity stepped forward, all the fear and uncertainty that had strained her features gone. “Find out what happened to your brother.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides, the decision between staying and going a choice he didn’t want to make. “Are you sure?”

  Charity nodded. “Whip and Thomas will find me a safe place to start over… somewhere in the colonies.” At his confused look, she clarified, “No reason to take such a long voyage to London, if it’s not necessary.”

  An ache settled in his chest at the thought of never seeing her again, but hadn’t that been the plan all along? They’d always been destined to go their separate ways. He belonged at sea. The adventure of it kept his blood flowing, made him feel alive. Charity would perish under those same conditions. Life at sea would eventually kill her, just as it had his sister.

  Besides, Charity didn’t want him. She’d said just earlier today that she was glad they would part to lead their own lives. That she’d finally be able to start over on her own.

  James handed Whip his pistol. “You’ll see her to safety?”

  “I swear on a watery grave.”

  “Then I suppose I should go.” He turned to Charity, who stood before him with a weak smile.

  “Good luck to you,” she said. “I hope you find David.”

  The ache in his chest grew more painful as the seconds ticked by. He had to leave, and soon, but first… James pulled her to him and kissed her hard, memorizing the full curves of her lips. The taste of her was bittersweet, knowing this kiss would be their last. She opened her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his with a desperation that matched his own. His hands dove deep into her feather-soft tresses while she clasped onto his shoulders, her fingers digging in. They held each other tightly, as if by will they could merge themselves into one.

  Whip cleared his throat, and James drew back. If only they had more time.

  “You’d best git goin’,” Whip muttered, nodding toward the hallway. �
�You’re lookin’ for the Sea Sprite. I’ve heard her flag is the one with the red skeleton carrying a sword in each hand, with an hour glass balanced on its head.”

  James unlaced the pouch of money that hung from his belt and pressed it into Charity’s hand. “Good luck to you, too. I hope you find the life you’re looking for.”

  Clearing her throat, she took the pouch and tied it at her waist, averting her gaze from his.

  “Whip.” James turned to the man who’d become more of a father to him than his own.

  The old sailor raised his hands and stepped back a pace. “Don’t look at me. I don’t need no kissin’. A handshake’ll do.”

  He didn’t feel like smiling, but he dredged one up anyway. “So be it.” James thrust out his hand.

  Whip gave it a hearty shake before pulling him in for a slap on the back. “You’re a good lad.”

  “And you’re a good friend. Thank you for following me to hell.” He held Whip’s hand a moment longer. “We’ll meet up in London?”

  “Aye. In London. Now go.”

  James headed into the hallway at a brisk pace, determined not to look back at the woman he’d left behind, and struggled to ignore the sense of loss weighing him down like a cannonball to the chest.

  …

  Don’t go.

  The plea lodged in Charity’s throat.

  Watching James walk away sliced something open inside of her, releasing a panic she could barely contain, and still she couldn’t speak. James needed to find his brother, if nothing else than to ease the guilt he carried like a shield, protecting himself from further hurt. Maybe if he brought his brother home to his family, he could finally allow love into his heart.

  “Inside now, lass.” Whip waved her in. “And lock up.”

  Her mind in a daze, she began to untie the pouch at her waist as she moved through the door, back into the room.

  Whip shook his head. “You keep it. We pay when we set sail, not before.” He shut the door and his footsteps trailed away.

  She reached out to secure the bolt with a trembling hand, her emotions dangling on a silken thread. James, the one man she’d come to trust, was gone for good.

  Her vision blurred with tears, and she raised a hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to hold them back. They dripped down her cheeks as that silken thread frayed beyond repair.

  When James had spoken of how they’d all travel to London, she’d thought…she’d hoped his reasons were based on love, that he wanted her at this side. Her legs wobbled and she sank to the floor, her heart breaking in two. What a fool she’d been.

  James had never promised love and devotion. He’d made no pretenses. Even if this Captain Fry hadn’t lured him away with the possibility of finding his brother, James would have found her a suitable place to live and left her. She’d known that all along, and yet somehow she’d come to want more from him, more than he’d been willing to give.

  No, it wasn’t his fault she felt this pain and loss. She should have known better than to put her faith in a man. That spiteful thought should have roused a sense of righteous indignation, but it didn’t. In light of all that James had done for her, the advice Miss Biddle had given now seemed hollow and bitter.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to take calming breaths. Perhaps she had been a fool, yet she would never regret her time with James. She hadn’t imagined the care he’d taken with her. With him she’d felt cherished and loved. Even if the love on his part was imagined, her feelings were clear. She loved him and always would. He’d helped her understand herself far better than ever before. She was a stronger person because of him.

  Charity picked herself up off the floor and lifted her chin high. She would use that strength to escape this place and build a better life for herself. After all, she would soon have what she’d wanted from the first. Independence. To live her life as she saw fit with no one interfering. No one. She’d be alone. Sadly, that future didn’t appeal as much as it had before.

  Far faster than she would have thought possible, Whip returned. “Open on up, lass,” he called through the door. “Found Thomas, and we have a ship waitin’.”

  “How did you manage to find him and a ship so quickly?” she asked as she opened the door.

  “Seems Thomas ran into a crew fixin’ to leave soon and eager for some coin to fill their pockets.” Whip led the way down the staircase. “He’s waitin’ for us below.”

  The tavern was far busier than it had been when she and James had first arrived. A sea of unruly men had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, the din so loud her ears rang. She followed Whip into the throng, keeping close as he pushed his way through.

  She spied Thomas hurrying toward them, his progress impeded by the crush of bodies between them. He was trying to tell them something, but the noise… A hand clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her back. She stumbled and looked up into cold, vengeful eyes. The Judge.

  Her frantic pulse replaced the ring in her ears. “Whip!” She managed one step away before The Judge grasped her arm. Acting on instinct, she jerked her arm to twist away, but the glint of The Judge’s knife stopped her struggles. She scanned the crowd for Whip and Thomas. She’d find no help there. Both were attempting to fight off men loyal to The Judge, men she remembered seeing on Neptune’s Mercy.

  The Judge yanked her toward the door. She didn’t have to ask where he was taking her, or rather who he was taking her to. She knew full well.

  They reached the doorway and The Judge shoved her through. “Here she is. Following these two led us right to her, just as I said it would.”

  She staggered into the street and came to a stop in front of the man she dreaded most. Charity lifted her gaze and lost her breath. Richard Shevington stood no more than three feet away in the midafternoon sun. He swept a long, slow look over her, his stare sharp and assessing. She remembered that look from her supposed wedding day. After cajoling her into saying her vows hadn’t worked, he’d resorted to force.

  “Now that you have her, release the rest of my crew,” The Judge demanded.

  Captain Shevington waved him away, his attention fixed solely on her. “In due time.”

  He’d traveled all this way, for her? “How did you know where to find me?”

  The corner of the captain’s lips quirked in satisfaction. “I found your mother’s leather satchel at the pier in New York. Your uncle confirmed the initials stamped into the leather were hers—JNG—Josephine Nerine Goswick.”

  If he’d found her mother’s satchel by the pier, he would have searched the ships moored there, all but one. The one that had left in the middle of the night.

  “You should be flattered,” he insisted, his tone growing terse. “I followed you all the way down to this godforsaken place, believing you’d been taken against your will.” He stepped closer. The faint smell of smoke radiated from him. “Only to find you looking like a common strumpet and to hear The Judge tell me you’ve taken up with a pirate.”

  She peered down at her low-cut bodice. The first time she’d seen this dress, she’d refused to wear it, believing just as Captain Shevington did, that it was too scandalous. How long ago that seemed now. She flinched when he snatched the gold hoop from her ear with a contemptuous scowl upon his face. She’d utterly forgotten she still wore Whip’s gift. Perhaps she had changed from the woman Captain Shevington had planned to marry. Oddly, no shame or guilt flooded her with the realization. Indeed, she stood a little taller. With this transformation had come wisdom and strength. No regrets.

  The captain reached for her waist. Slowly, he loosened the ties that secured the stocking of money James had given her, daring her to stop him. As if she would try, given the circumstances.

  The stocking freed, the captain spilled the coins into his hand, and his face hardened. “You’re nothing more than a whore.” He spat. “You should have never run from me.”

  “I’m not a whore,” she declared. Pride forced the words from her mouth.


  He ignored her, seemingly lost in his own angry thoughts. “This is your damnable uncle’s fault. If he hadn’t given you so much opium, the ceremony would have been completed in every sense of the word.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, preventing an elated gasp as her mind fixed on one thing. They weren’t married. The millstone that had burdened her shoulders since the night of their wedding floated away. Let him think what he would about her as long as it meant he would let her go.

  “You say you are no whore.” His gaze dipped to the rise of her breasts, prominently displayed by the red gown. “Yet The Judge has told me how he found you in Lamont’s bed. Is he your lover?”

  Charity hesitated, although the reason for it escaped her. James was long gone, safe from Captain Shevington’s wrath. The captain might become furious with her, but it would be worth facing his anger if he decided marrying such an unfit wife wasn’t worth her land and money.

  Captain Shevington grabbed her shoulders and squeezed, giving her a shake. “Tell me! Did you lie with him?”

  “I did.”

  The captain’s fist drove into her abdomen. Pain exploded in her belly, and she cried out. Sinking to the dusty street, she clutched her middle, biting back the moan that clamored up her throat.

  Richard Shevington’s sharp, angular features came into view as he crouched beside her. He grasped her chin in a cruel grip, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I will raise no bastards.” His hand clenched tighter, pinching her skin. “The ceremony may have been cut short, but you will still be my wife.”

  She struggled to catch her breath. She’d gladly hand over her money and lands if she could. That’s what the captain really wanted. But legally they weren’t hers to give. No, she couldn’t escape the captain’s clutches. Not this time. Not ever again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Tell me what you know about my brother?” James itched to get answers and be gone from here. Although he trusted Thomas and Whip completely, leaving Charity didn’t settle well. He’d promised to see her to safety. He smothered a dry laugh. The reasons for staying went far beyond her safety. He could feel it deep in his gut. Even so, he couldn’t let himself think on it now. This might be his only chance to find David.