Two pirates, who had been found locked in the hold of the galleon, stood before their new captain, giddy at their sudden turn of fortune and readily accepting the duties Merrick assigned to them.
Soon the captain gave the command to weigh anchor and unfurl sails. With canvas spread to the favoring breeze, the Redemption set out to sea again, riding lower in the water, her hold bulging with treasure.
Charlisse, escorted by Sloane, made her way to the side railing to watch the remains of the galleon sink into the sea. A possessive hand rested on her lower back as Merrick slipped beside her. She jumped at his touch and an unavoidable warmth rose to her face.
“Watch.” He pointed toward the Spanish ship.
The poor abandoned warship, its drooping sails still flapping in the wind, and nearly half its hull underwater sat motionless as if contemplating its fate. Then a deafening roar pounded the air and the galleon ignited in a colossal burst of orange and yellow that sent pieces of wood and canvas flying high into the cloudless sky. The ship split in two. Within minutes, it disappeared in the jade-green waters of the Caribbean.
“What happened?” Charlisse asked. “I heard no cannon blast.”
“Naw, miss.” Sloane eyed her with glee. “We set her powder kegs to go off afore we left.”
“Now, milady, if you don’t mind going below?” Merrick asked with more politeness than usual. “The men are well into their drink and a bit more rambunctious than would allow for your safe presence.”
Charlisse had already noticed the glances filtering her way, but she made no attempt to leave. Instead, she lifted her eyes to meet the captain’s in a valiant stare. “Are we back on course for Port Royal?”
“Aye. Nigh a day’s journey from here.” His voice was stiff and formal, but his eyes held a mischievous glint.
She glanced at his lips, remembering their kiss, and a shimmer passed through her. Embarrassed, she averted her gaze, hoping he hadn’t noticed, but when their eyes met again, his playful grin revealed that he had. He knows the effect he has on me.
Fighting to regain control, she met his gaze, determined that he would not cause her to falter in her purpose, either by his steamy regard or the flutters his presence sent through her.
“Milady?” He gave her a questioning nod toward the companionway stairs.
Sloane turned toward Charlisse. “I’ll escort ye below, miss.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Sloane,” she said, without releasing her lock on Merrick’s eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
A chuckle escaped the captain’s lips. “Very well.” He bowed. “Milady.” Then turning, he tugged Sloane beside him. “Come along, Sloane.”
“But, Cap’n.” Sloane cast an uneasy glance at Charlisse.
But at Merrick’s pull, the old pirate turned and followed his captain below.
Clusters of pirates huddled across the deck, passing bottles of rum and snickering among themselves, offering Charlisse occasional glances. Ignoring them, she turned, clutched the railing, and looked out over the sea. She dared not believe Merrick had left her at the mercy of these salacious brutes. But wasn’t that what she had asked for?
“Hey, sweetheart, are ye all alone?” A gruff voice jeered behind her.
“Where’s yer lover boy?” another man said.
Alarm pricked at every nerve. She squeezed the railing until her fingers ached. If she went below, she would be admitting her weakness—admitting she needed the captain. Oh, why was she always so stubborn? The turquoise sea spread before her, calm and inviting. She thought of jumping in, of escaping both the pirates and her helplessness. But she had been in that ocean before, and it was no more merciful than the God Merrick worshiped.
“How’s about a littl’ rum, darlin’?” The gruff voice was louder now, closer, as the ominous thump of bare feet struck the wooden deck.
Chapter 18: My Father, the Pirate
Releasing her grip on the rail, Charlisse spun around. At least ten pirates skulked toward her, rum dripping off their chins. She dashed for the companionway stairs and flung herself down them so fast, she missed the last two steps and landed on the hard deck with a thud. Springing to her feet, she barreled into the captain’s cabin.
Merrick looked up from his desk, a victorious grin on his lips. “What took you so long?”
Charlisse huffed and limped to the bed, rubbing her thigh. She would not play this game with him. Plopping down, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed toward the window. She heard Merrick’s chair scrape the floor.
“I won’t be gone long, milady. I caution you to remain in my cabin, but since you can take such good care of yourself, please do not feel as though you are my prisoner. Wander about the ship any time you like.”
Charlisse glared at him, longing to wipe that smile off his haughty lips.
He winked and closed the door, his chuckle fading into the hallway.
Soon, exhausted from the excitement of the morning—plus a lack of rest from the night before—she drifted off to sleep on the captain’s soft featherbed.
♥♥♥
Merrick had been right about the pirates’ mood. They’d been loud when Charlisse had fallen asleep, and even louder now as she awoke. Their fiendish howling echoed through the ship like a pack of wolves wailing at the moon. Music accompanied the clang of swords and enough swearing to make a hardened sailor blush.
Casting an anxious glance at the door, she hoped Merrick was keeping a strict vigil over his men and that he had not joined in the drunken revelry. The thought set her nerves on edge. No matter how distrustful she was of him, he was her only protection aboard this ship.
The door burst open and in bounded Sloane and the captain. Charlisse jumped at the sudden intrusion even as relief waved through her.
“I jist be sayin’, Cap’n, that some o’ the men are askin’ fer ye to send ’im down to Davy Jones’s locker. They says it’s only fair after what he done.”
Merrick took off his hat and scarf, tossed them onto the desk, and turned to face his friend. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Where would I be without second chances, eh?”
Sloane remained standing at the open door. “’Tis true, Cap’n, but he be nothin’ like you, says I. His be the cold heart o’ a villain. Ye can see it in ’is eyes. Besides, ye don’t want to appear weak in front o’ the crew.”
“The good book says”—Merrick pointed to the Bible on his desk—“to forgive and to love your enemies, does it not?”
“Har, but it don’t say to be lettin’ people stab ye in the back more than once.”
“No, I believe it says to let them do it seventy times seven.” Merrick smiled. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can handle Kent. Once ashore at Port Royal, he won’t bother us anymore.” His abrupt tone put an end to the conversation.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Sloane said begrudgingly. He glanced at Charlisse. “Miss, I be gettin’ some food for ye. Be right back.” He left, slamming the door behind him.
Charlisse sat on the bed, trying to mask the twirling emotions that consumed her in the captain’s presence. “What of Master Kent?”
“The crew wants him tortured and killed. It’s the pirate way,” he stated. “But as you know, I have no intention of complying with their wishes. Kent is a wild, impetuous boy, but I perceive he may have learned his lesson this time.” He leaned back against his desk and faced her, arms folded over his chest. “He reminds me a little of myself not long ago, and I would be in a far worse place today if someone had not taken a chance on me.”
“Indeed? And what place, pray tell, could be worse than captaining a crew of pirates?” Charlisse straightened her back. “The few times I’ve spoken with Master Kent, I’ve found him to be no more wild or impetuous than you are. In fact, he seems quite charming.”
A wild, unnerving look crossed Merrick’s eyes. “Perhaps you are not as good a judge of character as you may think.” Rising, he took a step toward her. The tip of his cutlass scraped over the wood of the desk beh
ind him, giving Charlisse a start.
Her pulse rose. She looked away and grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting it between her fingers. He took another step, and she cursed herself for angering him again. Thankfully, Sloane barreled in with a tray of food.
“Here ye go, some warm food fer a change.” He placed the tray on the table and plopped into one of the leather chairs, glancing back and forth between Merrick and Charlisse. “Did I interrupt somethin’?”
The three of them sat to enjoy a meal of beef soup, biscuits, salted pork, and tea. Charlisse ate until she could eat no more. With the threat of the galleon behind them and the prospect of arriving in Port Royal tomorrow, her spirits were higher than they’d been since before the shipwreck. If she could just survive one more night with this pirate captain, this torturous journey would come to an end. She would find her father and live happily in his protective, loving care.
The conversation flowed between Sloane and Merrick. Charlisse listened with interest, intrigued by every word—so unlike the conversations she was accustomed to in London. These men spoke of sword fights, sea battles, wind and weather, mutinies, treasure, and exotic ports. Everything about them was different—their lifestyle, dress, mannerisms, and culture. She had once thought such people existed only in storybooks, but here they were, sitting right beside her. If she weren’t part of the terrifying plot, she’d surely enjoy the drama more.
The bright glow of the sun shining through the window dulled as dusk settled on the Caribbean. Soon darkness shrouded the Redemption. The blacker the night sky became, the louder the sounds of revelry grew.
Sloane and the captain each slapped down a shot of rum before the old pirate left, tray in hand, to check on things above deck. Charlisse found herself alone with Merrick once again. She determined to keep the conversation light and avoid contact with him.
“Tomorrow we shall arrive in Port Royal?” The quiver in her voice betrayed her.
“As I have said.” Merrick sprawled in one of the leather chairs, a look of complacency on his face.
“What is your business there?” she asked.
“Pirate business.” He smiled, continuing to penetrate her with his dark gaze.
She sighed, fidgeting on the bed. “Since you have been there before, perhaps you could tell me where I might begin the search for my father.”
Merrick’s smile faded and he closed his eyes.
Charlisse huffed. “Won’t you please tell me what you know about him?”
He moved to the edge of his seat, looking at her sternly. “I don’t know your father. I only know the name, and it can’t be the same man.”
“How many Edward Terrance Bristols can there be in the Caribbean?”
Merrick stood and poured himself another glass of rum, downed it with a quick tip of his head, and glanced back at her. Pain and unease burned in his gaze.
“There are only a few people who know him by that name. I’m one of them.”
Charlisse waited.
“Others know him as Edward the Terror.” He paused.
“The … terror? What are you saying?” Charlisse’s body tensed.
“That he’s a pirate, a blackguard.”
Confusion muddled her thoughts. “My father is not a pirate. He’s a merchant sailor. My mother has letters.” She felt suddenly dizzy.
“I’m afraid it’s true.” Merrick turned to face her.
“I fear you have been misinformed.” She jumped off the bed. “My mother would never have married a pirate! Who told you this?”
“He was my captain.” Merrick shoved a hand through his hair.
“You sailed with my father?” Her eyes grew wide.
Merrick nodded. “If he is indeed the same man.”
Her father was real! Not some elusive dream she had been chasing for years. Perhaps he was a pirate, but if so, did that make him wicked? Captain Merrick was proof that kindness could dwell in a pirate’s heart.
“Tell me about him, I beg you. What type of man is he?”
Merrick rubbed his eyes and turned away. “Let’s just say he did not come by his name ‘the terror’ by chance.”
“Rubbish!” Charlisse paced in front of the bed, anger broiling. “You’re lying. He’s a good man. He loved my mother, and he loves me. I read his letters. He was planning to bring us to the colonies to be with him.” Halting, she grabbed the bedpost and leaned her head against it.
“Milady,” Merrick said, “the man I know is anything but a caring family man. He is vicious and cruel, one of the most ruthless pirates on the Spanish Main.”
She shook her head, unable to stop the tears that now trickled down her cheeks. “Why are you lying to me?” Yet, even as she said it, she could think of no reason for him to do so.
Merrick approached and grabbed her shoulders. “Please sit down and let me explain.”
She jerked from his grasp and turned away. “You don’t want me to find my father, do you? You want to keep me right here with you. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“If I wanted to do that, it would be an easy thing to accomplish, milady, since you are already here in my cabin and completely at my mercy.”
There was a long pause. Charlisse stared out the window.
“I was your father’s first mate on his ship, the Nightmare, for two years,” Merrick continued. “The things I saw—the things he did to the crews we captured—I dare not repeat. He thought nothing of torturing the innocent victims who happened to find themselves in his path. He raped countless women. Tied many of his own crew to the anchor of the ship and dragged them on the bottom of the ocean for nothing more than a mere disagreement.”
A shudder ran through Charlisse. She continued staring out the darkened window, trying to stifle the sobs clawing up her throat.
“Because of his cruelty, I convinced the crew to join me and we took over his ship.”
She swerved around, terrified to hear his next words.
Merrick must have sensed her fear for he shook his head. “I left him on an uninhabited island.”
“To die?”
“For God to decide.”
“And what did your God decide?” Did she want to know? Had she come all this way just to discover her father was not only a pirate, but dead?
“He’s not just my God, but everyone’s.” Merrick regarded her with tenderness.
“Answer my question. If my father is dead, I will never worship this God of yours.”
“Never fear, your father survived, for I have heard he is in command of another ship.”
“Then I shall find him at Port Royal.” She thrust her chin in the air. “Pirate or no pirate, terror or no terror.” Her eyes flooded until her vision was glassy. “He loved my mother, and he will love me.”
Merrick ambled toward her. “I beg you, milady, do not. He will not welcome you as you wish.”
“How do you know?” A tear escaped down her cheek.
He reached up to wipe it, but she stepped away, rage rising within her.
“I shall find my father and he will want me, you’ll see. He’s not what you say he is. He cannot be.”
Merrick stared at her. His face reddened. “Then perhaps I will keep you for myself. To protect you from your own foolishness. The idea of having you near is not without appeal.”
Charlisse backed into the edge of the bed and sat, shaking with fury and shock, tears pouring down her cheeks. Merrick marched toward her, grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look into his blazing eyes. “If that’s the only way I can keep you from throwing yourself into the clutches of a madman, I vow I will do it.”
Charlisse trembled, realizing she had pushed this pirate too far. All she had to do was wait one more night, but instead she had provoked his wrath. Now, would he ever set her free?
Merrick grunted and jerked away. Stomping to his desk, he grabbed a bottle of rum, and left, slamming the door behind him.
Charlisse fell in a heap on the bed and sobbed.
♥♥♥
/> It had been a long time since Merrick had felt this enraged. Not even Kent’s challenge had evoked such overwhelming emotion. Emerging to a stiff breeze, he stepped over two inebriated men and headed toward the bow of the ship, where he plopped down on deck.
Edward the Terror. Of all the women in the Caribbean, he had to cross paths with the daughter of Edward the Terror! Not only cross paths, but bring her aboard his ship. Edward was the one man Merrick hated most in the world and the one man whom Merrick would do anything to capture or kill, whichever came first. Could she really be his daughter? She was nothing like him. He chuckled at the irony.
A sliver of the moon hung in the night sky like a sly grin, mocking him. Lifting his bottle, he offered it a toast and took a long swig. Then swinging his feet over the bow, he watched the ship split the savage sea into two streams of turbulent white.
The ocean was calm tonight. Merrick took in a deep breath of her salty scent, gazing across waves that glistened like liquid silver in the moonlight. Beyond, they faded into a darkness so intense it was as if the ocean fell from the face of the earth. No wonder people used to believe the world was flat.
He took another swig of rum and wiped the back of his hand across his face. On a night when he should be celebrating his victory over a Spanish galleon, he found himself frustrated and furious, and over what? A woman—a foolish girl with foolish dreams. Why did she affect him so? He should just let her go her own way when they reached Port Royal—set her free and be done with her. If she wanted to go looking for a man who would reject her and break her heart, what business was it of his? Besides, he should have naught to do with her if she was truly Edward’s daughter. No one, especially not some senseless girl, would stop him from his mission—his God-given mission to rid the Caribbean of the brutal atrocities committed by depraved men. Edward the Terror was the first and worst scoundrel on his list, and the world would be a better place without him.
The Redemption (Legacy of the King's Pirates Book 1) Page 12