Within A Captain's Fate

by Lisa Olech

  Ric cradled the back of her head and held her to him as he sucked her lower lip between his and nipped at it with his teeth. She gasped with pleasure as light raced along her skin and tingled all the way to her toes.

  When she slid onto his lap and wrapped her arms about his neck, Ric’s strong fingers raked down her back and fisted the fabric of her shirt. He ground her name into her mouth. His hips lifting her as he rolled them upward sending delicious waves of pleasure through her.

  It was all at once everything she desired and not nearly enough. It made her greedy for something she couldn’t even name. She wanted all of him.

  “Untie me.” He rumbled against her lips. His free hand moved lower to cup the curve of her bottom and press her tighter to him.

  “I’d have to stop kissing you,” she breathed tipping her head to the other side, slanting her mouth in another direction.

  Ric nipped at her lip again. “Damn it, Jocelyn, untie me.”

  She never should have stopped. Should have ignored him. For once she slipped the rope from his wrist, he used his hand to hold her away from him. It was as if by releasing that corded hold, she’d somehow broken the spell.

  “We can’t do this.” He was gentle but forceful lifting her off his lap and setting her aside before shoving his chair back to stand. “I’m sorry.”

  Then, he was gone. She’d sat there trying to catch her breath. Her lips felt swollen. She tested them with her fingertips. Her body thrummed with denied desire. She sat stunned, struggling to understand what happened.

  Tears pinched the backs of her eyes. Her fingernails cut into her palms as her hands curled into fists. She would not cry. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing what happened was anything more than a simple kiss. Nothing more.

  Hornbach walked into the galley, and Jocelyn made her escape before he could speak. The tears wouldn’t halt. Head down, she slowed her pace. She’d already humiliated herself once today without racing to her quarters in hysterics.

  Once there, she flipped the lock, slid down the backside of the door, and let the tears come.

  Two days had passed since their kiss in the galley. The next time she saw Ric, he had started to say something about what had happened between them, but she cut him off with some inane comment about the weather. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Apology or explanation. It didn’t matter one way or the other. They kissed, but it meant nothing to him. It was clear. She would treat it as such. It was nothing.

  For two days and two long nights, those three words--It was nothing--circled around and around in her mind as she tried to convince herself. If only she could convince her body. Their “nothing” of a kiss awakened something in her. Even the thought of it set her limbs trembling. It had heaped dried tinder onto a tiny innocent flame of passion and wonder, and ignited it into a raging fire.

  According to MacTavish, another day or so, they’d round the southeastern shore of Hispaniola and catch the trade winds blowing west from Africa. It wouldn’t be long before her time aboard the Scarlet Night would be over. She’d return to the life of Admiral Beauchamp’s daughter, marry the stranger awaiting her, and say goodbye to her foolish thoughts of embarking on some grand adventure.

  Perhaps it was for the best to make a clean break of things before they became more complicated. She and Ric could never be together. Not in the way she was imagining. The mere thought of it was ludicrous. She needed to douse the flames of desire building within her and be practical.

  Only Tupper noticed anything amiss with her. Jocelyn had asked her to teach her more of the hand language they used to communicate with Bump. Tupper agreed, but as soon as the door closed on her quarters, she began questioning Jocelyn.

  Tupper stopped mid cabin and turned a curious eye in Jocelyn’s direction. “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Jocelyn lowered her gaze and made a move around her.

  Tupper blocked her and peered into her face. “Yes you do, I see it in your eyes.”

  Jocelyn studied her hands rather than raise her gaze.

  Tupper tipped her chin. “I knew it. Something happened a few days ago. I noticed it then, but was hoping you’d tell me.”

  Jocelyn brushed off Tupper’s hand. “Perhaps I’m tired of life at sea.”

  “No, that’s not it either.” Tupper narrowed her eyes. “Has something to do with Ric, too. Both of you’ve been acting a mite strange.”

  Jocelyn dodged Tupper once more. She didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps the best idea would be a counter attack. “Who’s Beth?”

  Tupper jerked as if she’d been slapped. “Beth? How do you know about Beth?”

  “The first night. You know, after… I helped you to bed and tidied the cabin. You yelled at me to put down some old letters. Gavin’s letters. But then you told me your name was Alice.”

  Tupper crossed the room and urged Leviticus to perch on her arm. His black toes curling around her wrist. She pet his throat until he chirped at her in contentment.

  Jocelyn continued. “But the letters were all signed ‘Beth.’”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but Beth was Gavin’s first wife.” Tupper brought the bird to sit with her behind Gavin’s impressive oak desk.

  Jocelyn found it curious a man would marry one woman and wish to save letters from another. “And he kept her letters?”

  “I kept her letters.” Tupper used one hand to loosen the cork on yet another bottle of brandy. She held it up in offer, as she always did. Jocelyn politely declined once more.

  Jocelyn sat on the edge of the bed. “Why?”

  Pulling a glass toward her she poured a dram, stopped, then seemed to rethink her actions and poured another. “Beth’s letters were one of the reasons I fell in love with Gavin. He thought he should get rid of them after we married, but I refused to let him. You see Gavin is…was,” Tupper stopped and frowned.

  Jocelyn immediately regretted broaching the subject. “I’m sorry, Tupper, we don’t need to talk about this.”

  “No, I want to. It feels right to talk about him. Someone else should know about him…about us. Tell our tale perhaps.” When she sat back in her chair, she lifted her boots to rest on the corner of the desk, Leviticus sidestepped up her arm and plucked at her hair. Tupper paid him little notice. “Gavin was a hard man. Tough. Fair. Brilliant, but closed off. We didn’t agree on much of anything, and I couldn’t find a way to get past the wall he’d built around himself. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to in the beginning. Then, I found the letters and they explained everything. They showed me who he was and why he’d become the man he’d become.”

  She took a long swallow before continuing. “They’d had such a love, he and Beth, I saw a side of him he’d spent years hiding from everyone. It was as if she was telling me through those pages not to give up on him. That it was right to love him, and let him love me in return.”

  The story touched Jocelyn’s heart. Who would have imagined such a tale of Tupper and Gavin coming together? “Were you together a long time?”

  Tupper gave her a wistful smile. “Seven years.”

  “You have no children?”

  “Do you see children?” Tupper used her glass to sweep the room.

  Hadn’t Ric mentioned the deaf boy as a small lad? “Bump?”

  “Bump is no one’s child. But he’s the closest I’ll ever come to having a son.” Tupper gave a short sigh. “Creating a child of our own wasn’t meant to be.”

  Jocelyn could only imagine how she would feel if she were unable to have children. It had always been a dream of hers to build a large loving family. After a life of forced quiet, she wanted a home filled with laughter and joyful noise. “I’m sorry.”

  Tupper once more shrugged it off. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  “Did you know right away you loved Gavin?”

  “No. Like I said, we argued about everything. He hated the idea of a wom
an aboard his ship. It was his opinion that pirating wasn’t a fit life for a woman. Things for him were black and white. There was a code to follow. Honor among thieves. Rules for everything. Except when life didn’t follow the rules. But he loved like he fought. Fiercely. Completely.”

  Jocelyn could hear the longing in her voice. “Do you think, some day there will come a time when you’ll be able to…”

  “No. Gavin was everything I never hoped to have. After the things I’d done, I hardly expected to be anyone’s wife. Thought for sure there was nothing left for me in this life. I was wrong. Gavin showed me otherwise.”

  Jocelyn stood, crossed her arms over her chest, and moved to the windows watching the water pass behind the ship. “I’ve always known I was to be someone’s wife. I’ve been groomed to run a household and be the proper military wife. I never expected to find my true love.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you? Have you found him? Ric perhaps?”

  She spun back toward Tupper. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Tupper raised one hand. “You brought it up.”

  “We weren’t talking about Ric.” Jocelyn lowered her arms and planted her hands on her hips.

  Tupper laid a hand on her chest. “I wasn’t, but I think perhaps you were.” She eyed her closely. “You’ve been dancing around the subject of Ric Robbins for days. It doesn’t take a brilliant mind to figure it out. You have feelings for the man.”

  Jocelyn pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You wouldn’t be the first woman to be charmed by his golden good looks.”

  “Meaning?” Jocelyn hated the thread of jealousy that ran through her voice.

  “Ric loves the ladies, always has. I, myself, am not susceptible to his sweet talk, but I understand he has quite a way about him with the ‘skirts.’”

  Jocelyn frowned at the floor. Was she just another “skirt?” Was he kissing a different woman in every port? No wonder he cast her aside. What would he need with her? For goodness’ sake, she had to tie the man to a chair to get him to kiss her. She rubbed the ache between her eyebrows.

  “But if you have feelings for him, I wouldn’t fret.” Tupper continued. Leviticus even added a squawk of agreement. “You’ve got as much of a chance as any of them. I mean, no one’s tied him down yet.”

  “They probably used the wrong knot.” Jocelyn muttered.

  Chapter 15

  Ric held tight to the ship’s wheel. Winds had picked up over night and the few sails they had furled, bowed against a cloudless sky. The rigging started to sing.

  He was tired, but that’s what comes from sleepless nights lying in a hammock, listening to MacTavish snore like a wounded bear. When his mind won’t still and all he can think about is a kiss.

  Jocelyn’s kiss.

  How many women had he kissed in his lifetime? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember one who left him in such a state. He’d never be able to coil a rope or rig a buntline again without thinking of Jocelyn and that singular amazing kiss.

  “Captain?”

  Ric couldn’t get over the softness of her lips, and the quiet little whimper she made when he’d slipped his tong--

  “Captain?”

  MacTavish bellowed. “Oh, Captain…Ric, hey! He’s talkin’ to you.” He pointed up to Dowd in the crow’s-nest.

  Ric gave himself a quick shake and raised a hand to shade his eyes. “What is it?”

  Dowd pointed off to the starboard. “Ship coming at us.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Can’t make her out from here,” called Dowd. “Be a frigate flyin’ a Dutch flag.”

  MacTavish handed Ric the captain’s eyeglass. “Could be de Graaf.”

  “Bit too east for him,” Ric held the cool brass to his eye. “Whoever it is, she’s headed right for us.” He lowered the glass. “Shit.”

  MacTavish took a look for himself. “We could outrun her.”

  “To where?” Ric swallowed hard. “No. Let’s tell her who we are. We need to raise all the red sails we can manage. And the black bones. Show them we’re the Scarlet Night.” He called up to Dowd. “Get down here, I need you.” To MacTavish he ordered, “Find Hornbach and Bump. I need everybody on deck.”

  “Aye, Capt’n.”

  Jocelyn, Tupper, and her newly attached feathered friend came on deck. Ric shouted to them. “Tupper, I need you in the riggin,’ if you’re able. We’ve got company.”

  “Right,” Tupper stopped long enough to set Leviticus into the well of a coil of rope for safe keeping before obeying his order.

  “What can I do?” called Jocelyn.

  “Get below.” Ric rushed to the rail, loosened a line from one of the belay pins and strung it through the ships wheel to keep the Scarlet continuing on due course without a helmsman.

  He slid down the ladder to the main deck and ordered White and Summer to help with the mainsail as well.

  “You need me.” Jocelyn followed him as he raced toward the bow. “I can help.”

  Ric stopped and caught her by the shoulders. “You can help, by staying out of the way. I don’t need to be worrying about you.” He turned her and pushed her toward the hatch. “Go below.”

  Looking to starboard, the oncoming ship was getting larger. If they got close enough to attack, they were all dead.

  It was crazy, but he had an idea. “Dowd!” Ric stomped sharply on the deck twice. He got Bump’s attention too. He motioned to them. “Hats. Find me all the hats you can. There are more than a dozen still sitting in the crew quarters. Bring them here.”

  “Hornbach,” Ric grabbed the man’s sleeve as he descended the rigging and his boots hit the deck. “How many cabbages do you have in the larder?”

  “Bout twenty, I guess. Why?”

  Ric gave his shoulder a shove. “Go get them.”

  Hornbach stumbled. “We be makin’ them cabbage stew?”

  “Go.” Ric spun about to find MacTavish. He was right behind him.

  “What are you getting to?”

  Ric planted his hands on his hips. “We’re attacking.”

  MacTavish’s jaw went slack. “Are you out of ye bloody mind?”

  “No, in fact…White, lower the black and raise the red. Tell ‘em we’ll give no quarter. It’s a fight to the death.”

  “It’ll be a death, all right, ours.” MacTavish pulled at Ric’s arm. “We can’t be fighting a God damn frigate. It’s suicide.”

  “Swords.” Ric pulled MacTavish’s hand off his arm. “I need twenty of your longest, broadest swords.”

  Within minutes all his orders had been carried out--all but one. Jocelyn had defied him and was helping Dowd and Bump carry some of the late crew’s hats to him. He didn’t have time to argue with her. If she wanted to risk her neck with the rest of them on deck, so be it.

  MacTavish dropped an armload of swords at Ric’s feet. “They’re dull as a deadman’s eye, some got more rust than blade.”

  “Don’t worry, we aren’t fighting with them.” Ric grabbed one of the swords, and stabbed it deep into a head of cabbage.

  “We flinging rotting cabbage instead of cannon shot at them?” White asked.

  Ric lifted the leafy green head stuck on a pike and shoved a hat on top. “No, we’re building a crew.”

  To Jocelyn he ordered, “If you won’t listen to reason and get below, then take your rope training skills and lash each of our new crew members somewhere about the deck.”

  They all stood in stunned silence. “Go! We’re the Scarlet Night. We’ve never run from a fight. We’re the attackers. So let’s attack. Mac, you and Summer, I need the starboard cannons loaded and primed as fast as you can. I’ll man the forward gun and send a shot over their bow to let them know we’re coming. We’ll only get one round of shot off the starboard side. If they keep on, we won’t have time to reload before they return fire, but I’m hoping it doesn’t go that far.”

&n
bsp; “All we have to do is make them think we’re the aggressor. Our reputation will hopefully do the rest.” Ric stabbed another cabbage. “We haven’t got much time. If this is going to work, we can’t let them get too close.”

  The crew scrambled to do Ric’s bidding. He headed into the bow and took position at his gun.

  * * * *

  The sound of her heart rushed in Jocelyn’s ears. They were attacking? The memory of their ship being captured by the slave traders swirled about her. The decks had been in chaos then as well. However, their crew had not been made of cabbage, but real men with real blood which ran bright and red over the deck boards. It was as terrifying then as it was now.

  She made short work of tying off each sword as quickly as she could. One of the swords hadn’t been quite as dull as MacTavish had claimed. The blade sliced into her palm. She hadn’t even felt the cut until she saw the blood dripping onto the rope she was attempting to tie. Tearing a strip off the hem of her skirt, she wrapped it around the wound to stop the flow.

  “This be the sickliest looking crew I’ve ever seen,” piped Tupper. “I’ve got another idea.” She rushed off to the galley and returned with potatoes, carrots, small turnip and bits of charcoal from the fire. Tupper sent Dowd down into the carpenter’s bay for some cut nails. While she waited, she dug shallow holes with her knife into the cabbage and stuffed each one with a lump of charcoal before using the carrot tops for hair. Once the nails arrived, she broke the carrot in half and nailed it to the face.

  They all followed suit, giving their vegetable crew crude features. Jocelyn thought to do it one better. Borrowing Tupper’s knife, she cut at her hair. Now some of their crew had mustaches and beards and dark curls falling from under their borrowed hats. It may only have bought them a few more feet before their opponents realized it was all a sham, but a few feet could mean the difference between life and death.

  Jocelyn finished lashing the last of their makeshift army on to one of the barrels sitting upon the deck when the blast from the forward cannon drove her to her knees. She covered her head with her arms.