What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  In the distance a whip cracked, followed immediately by an ear-splitting scream. Oliver smiled. That should teach the man, whoever he was, to adhere to the rules of his plantation.

  Feeling no remorse for the cries that continued with ten consecutive strokes of the whip, Oliver walked to the end of his pier and gazed out at the water.

  The sea was a sight. Blue-green water, so clear he could see to the rocks below, filled his bay and spread out into the Caribbean. Shards of light bounced and carried on the gentle undulations. It was mesmerizing and, as long as he didn’t think of his ship, soothing.

  However it was his ship he thought about. Those thoughts had led him here. He’d fallen in love with the Jewel of the Sea the moment he’d set eyes on her. Except for his wife, Justine, nothing had lodged in his heart as firmly as she had.

  He heard the labored breathing at the same instant he heard footsteps rushing toward him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his lawyer. Curious as to what vital information Isaac had to impart in such haste, Oliver turned.

  “Isaac, what brings you by in such a state?”

  The attorney leaned over, arms banded around a waist as thin as a sugar cane. It took a few minutes, minutes Oliver figured he was very generous to extend, before Isaac had enough breath to speak without wheezing.

  “Sir, pray forgive my intrusion. I came as quick as I could. I meant to come sooner, but was fully engaged in a legal matter and could not pry myself away. And then it was so late, and I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. As you’re here now, tell me what urgency has propelled you.”

  “It’s the Jewel, sir. I believe she was in port yesterday.”

  Oliver’s breath caught in his chest. Was that why he’d felt her presence so keenly? Hope seeped into cracks he’d thought long sealed.

  “Are you certain?”

  Isaac nodded his head, and two of the curls left on his otherwise bald scalp waved from side to side. “Fairly, sir. She was painted blue and was too far away to see her name clearly. But, sir,” he said and squeezed Oliver’s arm, “I’d stake my life it was her.”

  “Did you see anything else? Anything a’tall?”

  “No, sir. She was sailing away when I happened to look out my window and saw her.”

  “What direction was she sailing?”

  “East by northeast sir.”

  Oliver turned back to the sea. She was here. It was the first time there had been any sign of her. He felt it. He knew it was her. Now all he had to do was round up a crew and—

  “There’s more, sir. That pirate, Luke Bradley?”

  Oliver frowned. “Yes?”

  “Well, sir, seems he was sprung from jail. Yesterday, sir.”

  “Do you know the time?”

  “No sir, but I’m sure the governor would.”

  Yes, his friend Governor Madison. The same governor who, upon occasion, could be bribed to overlook certain missteps. Was it a coincidence his ship was sighted on the same day a notorious pirate escaped the gallows? Perhaps, but Oliver didn’t believe in chance. He trusted facts.

  Absently he rubbed at the scar on his head. Thirty sutures it had taken to close the wound. The doctor had said he’d been lucky, though he hadn’t felt it at the time.

  Now, as the water curled against the supports of the pier, the lapping sound a soothing embrace, he finally felt lucky. Very lucky.

  He didn’t know who was captaining his ship, and he didn’t care. But some of his men were on that ship. Perhaps through them he could finally find Samantha. Regardless, he’d at least have the Jewel back. Once he had her in his possession, it would be only a matter of time until he located Samantha as well.

  Four

  A fog hovered over Tortuga. And though it equaled walking through a lacy veil of spider webs, its smell wasn’t unpleasant. The aroma of slow-roasted meat wafted from kitchens where wild oxen and boars were being smoked. Torches of candlewood, Tortuga’s main lumber crop, burned brightly in doorways and illuminated the narrow streets. Mixed with it all was the acrid smell of tobacco, the most profitable harvest of the island. It was little wonder the people Tortuga attracted were so diverse.

  Pirates, buccaneers, whores, and farmers frequented the heart of the island. A woman with painted lips, her skirts raised to mid-thigh, squealed as she ran past them. She stopped and allowed her swaggering companion to catch up. The chase, to Sam’s wonder, appeared to be part of the excitement. If she ever had the misfortune of such filth pursuing her, she’d find the closest hole and hide. She threw a glance at Luke’s smiling face. Or she’d find something sharp to send the scoundrel back where he belonged.

  Horses plodded along, ridden by men too drunk to hold the reins and likely too blurry-eyed to see where they were headed. Nobody walked, they staggered. And belched. And cussed.

  She stepped to Luke’s side, and her heart stuttered when he flashed her a grin. The heat from their moment on the beach was still there. It radiated between them like sunlight off sand.

  Captain Steele could resist Luke. She wondered, desperately, if Samantha could do the same.

  His gaze was embracing the sights before him. The cocky grin he’d given her was replaced with a genuine curve of his mouth. He breathed deep and sighed.

  “God, I missed this place,” he said.

  While Luke headed in the direction of a certain tavern, he noticed Samantha kept her eyes to the cobblestones and stayed clear of the filth that littered the streets.

  She stepped over a small puddle filled with little green chunks and pressed a hand to her throat.

  “Now, see, Samantha. You really need to find pleasure in the little things.”

  “Little things?” She dodged a hurtling bottle, which crashed behind her. “I’d hate to know what you consider a big thing.”

  Luke snickered. “Well, as it happens . . .”

  Samantha held up her hand and shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I can’t be that bad. It was you, after all, who came hunting for me.”

  “A means to an end, Luke. Nothing more.”

  “So you say.”

  Into the meaty part of town now, they were jostled and shoved. Sweaty men, rank with rum and filth, crashed into them. Luke simply shoved them back. Some, he noticed as he kept going, were lucky and had their fall broken by another hapless drunk; others fell and stayed down when their thick skulls struck the cobblestones. Samantha simply moved behind him and used him as a shield.

  “Do you have a particular place in mind?”

  He stopped and faced her. A flush rode under her skin. Bronze hair spilled over her shoulders. Gold teased her eyes. Her dress sailed low while her breasts rode high and firm. They made him think of creamy waves. And yet she was strung tighter than a corset. Her arms were rigid at her side, her chin angled high while her mouth was pinched with distaste. She didn’t trust him, and it should have angered the hell out of him. But damned if it didn’t make him grin.

  “As a matter of fact, luv, I do. But before we go any farther, do you plan on smiling anytime soon, or are you going to scowl the whole time?”

  The attempt was bitterly lacking and stretched pale skin over fine features.

  “That’s a girl,” he said.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered, and gave him a shove.

  Despite the fact that Dervish’s crew had left him for dead, Luke did have friends among his former comrades. He knew Samantha wouldn’t believe that. She wouldn’t take to any kind thoughts aimed his way. Still, the fact remained that there were a handful of people he could trust when needed, and it was one of those he turned to now.

  “Luke! Saints in heaven, I thought you was dead.”

  Luke grinned at the greeting. “For a moment I was, but then she asked me to move, as I was getting heavy and she couldn’t breathe.”

  His friend choked up rum, then swallowed it again. His bulging gray eyes watered as he fought to breathe normally.
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  “Don’t be doing that when I’m drinking, man. I’ve got more mayhem to see to before they point my arse skyward.”

  “Skyward?”

  “Ever know me to be ordinary, Luke? I plan on getting meself buried cheeks up.”

  Captain, a name he’d given himself, was a bear of a man. His silver hair was grizzled and stuck out every which way. It would take three of Samantha to circle his girth. Legs resembling sturdy logs moved quickly, and before Luke knew it, his hand was crushed within a fist that easily doubled his.

  Throbbing fingers aside, Luke was pleased to have found his old friend. It had taken five deliberate passes before going into Doubloons. Grinning, he acknowledged he’d done that for Samantha’s benefit. He’d savored her discomfort, her grumbling and cursing as she’d traipsed behind him. Doubloons was Captain’s preferred place, and if he was to be found, it was going to be there.

  “So, Luke,” Captain said, slapping him on the back. “Last I heard, they had you locked away in Port Royal. What scalawag rescued you this time?”

  Since he had no intention of telling Captain he’d been rescued by an agitated, vengeful woman, Luke did what he did best. He lied.

  “I dug my way out.”

  Captain raised a woolly eyebrow.

  “With the heel of my boot,” Luke added, saying the first thing that came to mind. He was relying on his friend’s drunkenness to keep him from questioning the probabilities of such an action.

  “Luke!” Captain roared. “That’s bloody brilliant! Always knew nothing could keep you behind bars.”

  Luke glanced over his shoulder to the door and exhaled his relief. Samantha was obeying his order to wait five minutes before following him in. He had some time.

  “Listen, Captain, I need your help.”

  He steered his friend to a small table. Thick candles with wax tears running down the sides stood on a small silver plate. They flickered with the breeze his and Captain’s movements made.

  “Have you seen Dervish lately? Do you know where he’s headed?”

  “I was wonderin’ when you was going to pick up that loose end. It’s been years, Luke.”

  And if it hadn’t been for Samantha, it never would have happened.

  Captain finished his rum and wiped the trickle that slipped from the corner of his mouth. Over the din of music, bellows, and arguments that echoed within the four wooden walls, Captain leaned conspiratorially over the table.

  “He was here not three days ago,” he whispered.

  When loud whistles and crude offers carried from the tables near the door, Luke knew his time had run out. He needed to get what he was after.

  “Where is he headed?” Luke asked.

  “Well, I think . . .” Captain’s attention turned to the commotion Samantha’s entrance had created.

  “Captain”—Luke moved his head to block his view—“about Dervish . . .”

  “Yeah,” Captain continued, “his ship’s slowing down, Luke. He’ll have to careen soon. Might be your chance to get even.”

  Luke’s gaze narrowed. That was perfect. It would be far easier to deal with Dervish when his ship was stopped for repairs and most vulnerable. He played with his mustache, rubbing the coarse whiskers as he thought out a plan.

  “Mother of God, Luke. Take a look at that.”

  Captain shoved Luke’s arm with a meaty, scarred fist and succeeded in tipping half of Luke’s rum onto the teetering table. Luke could already hear the whistles, the crude calls aimed Samantha’s way, and his stomach pitched. He had to hurry Captain along before things got too far out of control. What had she been thinking, dressed like that in a place like this?

  It took three firm shakes of Captain’s arm to draw his attention back. When his friend’s ravenous gaze turned back to him, Luke’s world tilted and left him skidding. Captain looked at Samantha the way he would any harlot. Mutiny filled Luke’s heart and burned a jealous trail he felt down to his fingers. They formed a fist before he’d realized it. Jealousy was new to him and not the least bit pleasant.

  “I tell you, Luke, I get teary just looking at her, and I’m not discussing me eyes, if you know what I mean.”

  Twisting in his chair, Luke looked toward Samantha. That damn red dress rode low, exposing far too much bosom. Her wavy hair shone in the candlelight. It was the kind of hair a man dreamed of being cloaked in. Oval eyes framed with long lashes took everything in. Lips meant for kissing curved into a bright smile and put every man in heat.

  What the hell was the matter with them? She may have looked like a strumpet, but any man worth his salt should see she didn’t belong there. It was in her stiff limbs, her forced smile. The way her eyes darted about the room. He bared his teeth when one of the locals grabbed her arm and dragged her to an empty chair.

  “See what I mean, Luke? She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

  Words formed but died on Luke’s tongue. The man who’d pulled Samantha into a seat had placed another next to it and was sitting too damn close to her. The other foul men around the table were laughing and drinking. And none of their gazes left her chest. The fact that only a few days ago he’d have done the same thing didn’t make him any happier.

  A sound kick landed on Luke’s calf and had him seeing stars.

  “What?” he turned his attention back to Captain.

  “Thought we’d finish our discussion. About Dervish,” he prompted.

  Right. Luke rubbed at his face, disgusted he’d forgotten his goal. She’d insisted on following, hadn’t she? She could bloody well take care of herself.

  “Where is he headed?” Luke asked, finishing his drink. The rum burned, but not as hot as his temper, when he turned just long enough to see a buccaneer sling an arm over Samantha’s shoulder. She smiled, an unspoken invitation he’d never have believed could come from her. He saw black.

  “Well, I’ll tell ya. Seems—”

  Samantha’s scream shot Luke to his feet. He spun around. She was being pulled into the middle of the room where a few swaying couples were practically clawing at each other under the pretense of dancing.

  “Order me another rum,” he said to Captain. “I’ll be right back.”

  He didn’t think, didn’t take the time to weigh the wisdom of his actions. It was going against everything he’d planned. He was supposed to get word of Dervish, then take Samantha back to the Revenge with as little incident as possible. But just now, drawing attention to himself was the last thing Luke was worried about.

  He cut a path through the din, his gaze fixed on her back. As Luke approached, the drunken pirate turned them in a circle. Samantha’s eyes narrowed when she saw Luke stomping toward her. He nearly reached out and strangled her when she fastened her fake smile into place.

  “Buy a lady a drink?” she asked.

  “Get out,” he growled. “You’re ruining everything.”

  “Hey, get your own wench,” the man complained when Luke clasped Samantha’s wrist in his hand.

  Luke could have shot him dead. Hell, he would have, if Samantha hadn’t smiled at her dance partner before stepping away from the vermin. She moved closer to Luke. Only the fire burning in her eyes gave away her true feelings.

  “I’ll not leave. God knows what you’ll do if I’m not here to keep an eye on you. Besides, you’re the one who’s forgetting the agreement.”

  Because she was right, he growled, “You’re distracting. How am I supposed to find out anything if they’re too busy gaping at you?”

  “Really?” She damn near glowed. “Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me yet.”

  Blood pounded in his ears. “Do you want Dervish or not?”

  “Luke,” Captain said as he joined them.

  To her credit, Samantha didn’t cower when the giant’s shadow all but consumed her.

  “Are you looking for Dervish, too?” Captain asked.

  Samantha smiled, and it infuriated Luke that this smile wasn’t nearly as forced as the one she’d given him mo
ments before.

  “Actually, I am.”

  Captain beamed. “Well, so’s Luke here. Did you know that it was thanks to Dervish poor Luke’s only got one eye?”

  Samantha turned to Luke, angled her head, and peered at him from under raised brows.

  “No, actually. I didn’t know.”

  “Captain, this one’s mine,” Luke said. He slipped an arm around her small waist and tugged her roughly against his side.

  “Bloody hell, Luke. I saw her first.”

  The men around the table beside them groaned and grumbled, but were wise enough not to interfere with Captain.

  “You’re too good for her,” Luke said, and hauled Samantha outside.

  His ears rang as he stepped from the tavern, but it was nothing compared to how they sizzled once Samantha started her tirade.

  “Let me go. Those men knew me. You’re not the only pirate who has been here before. They were drunk, but harmless.”

  “Harmless? Ha! Then why did you scream?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He pointed out a spider that was crawling close to my hand. I did what most women do. I yelled.”

  “Well, you might have tried to keep your mouth shut. I thought you were in trouble.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I got along just fine before I met you? And did you even find out where Dervish is?” she demanded as he pulled her back toward the beach.

  Dammit!

  “Wait here,” Luke said, “and don’t move so much as a toe.”

  Luke stalked back to Doubloons, cursing her the whole way. If she hadn’t acted like a damn woman, he’d have what he needed by now. He could have seen her safely back to the Revenge, then gone back to Doubloons to get blissfully drunk.

  “Luke, back so soon? I thought that was one strumpet that was too much for you,” Captain said.

  “I’ll finish with her later.” Luke grabbed a mug from a passing barmaid. “Dervish?”

  Captain heaved his forearm on Luke’s shoulder, nearly buckling his knees. “Going to Santa Placidia.”