What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

It was a small, insignificant island that nobody bothered with. Tucked between walls of rock was a virgin beach which opened up to a small, shallow port. The perfect place to unload a ship for careening. And better yet, the perfect place to seek revenge. Luke listened eagerly while Captain told him the rest. When he’d finished, Luke was feeling happier than he had in months.

  “Captain, my friend, let me buy you a drink.”

  Five

  Exhaustion was weighing heavy on Sam when the rest of her bleary-eyed crew finally staggered aboard the following afternoon. She’d taken her usual night watch and declined Aidan’s offer to take the morning one for her. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him. She’d be on board, he’d be safe enough. No, Aidan wasn’t the problem.

  The fact that Luke had traipsed back to town after seeing her to the Revenge the previous night was. Not only had he refused to discuss his irrational behavior, but he’d also left her stewing and wondering. What was he doing? With whom? She knew those questions would plague her until Luke returned. Sleep wouldn’t come until he did.

  It unsettled her that she cared. She’d known what Joe, Willy, and the rest of her crew were up to. Hadn’t she allowed it, despite her hatred of Tortuga? Why should Luke be any different?

  Because she hadn’t risked her neck breaking him out of prison for him to waltz around Tortuga getting stone drunk and whoring with whomever he pleased. And if that didn’t make a lick of sense, so be it.

  “Welcome back, gentlemen.”

  Her greeting was answered by a series of grunts and shuffles. Luke, last to come aboard, was maddeningly wide-eyed and alert.

  “Joe, get the crew in order and haul anchor. We’ve wasted enough time. I’m going to sleep.”

  Her first mate looked at her questioningly but was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. He did, however, spare a scowl for Luke.

  “You’re trusting his word, then?”

  Sam pulled her tired bones together and demanded they stay upright a few minutes longer. “If Luke says Dervish is headed for Barbados, then that’s where we’re going. I asked him to find Dervish’s destination, and he did. I’m not about to second-guess him now.”

  Luke’s smile, when he faced Joe, was blinding. Ignoring the fact that she’d just fed his ego, she left Joe in command and disappeared below. She fell onto her berth fully dressed. If a lingering voice whispered in her ear to be careful where Luke was concerned, she was simply too tired to pay it any mind.

  The Revenge was quiet that afternoon. There was just enough wind to keep the ship cutting along without extra effort from the crew. Which was a good thing, as they were mostly asleep, spread out on deck. Willy was squeezed underneath the lifeboat to escape the unrelenting brilliance of the sun. One of the boatswains was balanced on the base of the bowsprit, arms and legs hanging limply at his side. Joe was at the helm, but his eyes were glassier than the shimmering surface of the sea.

  It was an opportunity Luke didn’t intend to pass up.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” he said to Joe. “I can take it from here.”

  “Good effort, Luke. I don’t think so.”

  The need to take the helm was staggering. It had every nerve in his body primed and humming. But Joe couldn’t know that.

  “You prefer walking in your sleep, do you? Look, I just thought you’d rather lie yourself down and rest for a while. She’s quiet,” he said, referring to the ocean. “Besides, it was me who found out where Dervish is. I can read a compass and get us there.”

  Deliberately, he stretched, taking his time so as to give Joe an opportunity to think about what he was missing. “But if you don’t need me, I guess I’ll go get myself some sleep. Seems a shame, though. I’m not really tired.”

  “Joe, I can keep an eye on him.”

  Luke spun to face Aidan, who, despite his manly words, was fidgeting in his boots.

  Joe smiled warmly. “I guess you could at that, son.”

  Aidan grinned. The boyish delight at Joe’s praise overpowered his uncertainty.

  “All right, me boy,” Joe said, “I’ll leave ye to keep an eye on Luke. Ye come fetch me or Capt’n Steele if anything comes up.”

  “Aye, sir.” Aidan straightened and all but saluted.

  Joe faced Luke and all humor vanished from his face. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid, Luke. We have what we need, now. Yer of no further value.”

  “So nice to know I’m wanted.”

  Joe grunted and shuffled off. Luke didn’t care where he collapsed into sleep. He’d gotten what he was after. His hand was embarrassingly unsteady as he reached for the tiller.

  “Luke?” Aidan asked, his dirty palm outstretched.

  Luke grinned and ruffled the boy’s messy hair. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a shilling, dropping it into the boy’s waiting palm. Aidan’s bony fingers curved over the coin and he beamed. Luke returned the smile.

  “Thanks for your help, son.”

  Then, with the boy beside him, Luke took the helm. He couldn’t have said which of them was happier.

  Oliver wasn’t able to secure an appointment with Governor Alexander Madison until the following afternoon. Oliver’s ship was sailing further away, and the overnight delay had taxed his patience. He kept that anxiety well hidden, however, as he followed the butler through large carved doors into an open courtyard. A circle of blooming red rose bushes encompassed a small terrace, which was furnished with an iron table and four straight-backed chairs. The governor, with his long, gray curly wig and an afternoon overcoat in peacock blue, turned at their arrival.

  “My dear Oliver, how lovely that you came to call today. Please”—he gestured to a chair as the butler stepped forward to hold it out—“join me. I was about to indulge myself with a small nip of brandy.”

  Oliver made himself comfortable as the butler silently slipped off to get their drinks. Behind the sickeningly sweet roses, thick palm trees spread long, leafy fingers over them, producing a refreshing bit of cool shade.

  “I’m glad you had time to meet with me on such short notice,” Oliver said.

  The butler poured them each a healthy dose of the brandy and then, upon Madison’s request, left the bottle.

  “Tell me, Oliver, how are things at your plantation?”

  Insignificant, nonessential talk had helped Oliver slide his way among the rich and powerful, gathering allies the way the governor gathered roses. Today, he resented every word. Underneath the table, his knuckles were white.

  When the obligatory chatter was finally finished, Oliver jumped to the heart of the matter.

  “I heard that pirate escaped yesterday. Bradley, was it?”

  Alexander nodded into his glass, then swallowed. “I was told upon my arrival back in Port Royal. I can tell you, my friend, I was most distressed.”

  Oliver pushed his glass aside and leaned forward. “Were any of your men hurt, sir? Nobody seems to know exactly how it happened. Only that there was a commotion and he slipped out in the midst of it. The jail wasn’t harmed. Did he have a key, then?”

  “No, but his accomplice did.”

  Oliver grabbed the decanter and poured them both another shot. He swallowed his in two gulps.

  “He had help, then?”

  The governor, blue eyes twinkling, leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms over a fit chest.

  “It’s most embarrassing, Oliver. When I heard the whole tale, I immediately asked for everyone’s silence. But, as a friend, I feel you may get a good laugh out of it. I know I did.”

  At the start of the governor’s tale, Oliver thought he’d wasted his time. It was of no significance to him that some strumpet had come to see the pirate. Nor that she’d flirted shamelessly with the guards. But when Madison said she’d brought along some baked goods that rendered the guards so violently ill that they’d left their stations for the privy, that had Oliver’s blood sputtering.

  Samantha had been so pretty when he’d taken her back to the plantation that h
e’d wanted her nearby. He’d given her a position in the kitchen so he could see her more often. But the damn tart had refused his advances. Indeed, she once smacked his hand with a spoon when he’d run it down her perfectly rounded backside. Two days later the chocolate cake she’d baked for dessert had turned his insides to slop and he’d been wretchedly sick.

  He’d taken away her apron and moved her to the fields that very night. After she’d spent a few days at hard labor, he’d come to her bed.

  Thankfully, Madison’s table prevented the man from seeing Oliver’s instant arousal. She’d been so tight, so bloody spirited, he’d ridden her like a bucking stallion. And had loved every damn minute of it. Which was why, after that one taste, he’d been desperate for another. In his lust, he’d underestimated her. Not a mistake he planned to repeat.

  “You think she poisoned the goods?” Oliver asked, though he knew. Just as he knew who had done it.

  His ship had vanished the same night she had. Now guards had been poisoned the same way he had been. It was her.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Oh, they’ll be fine,” the governor acknowledged with a wave of his hand. “After a few hours in the privy they were right as rain. But damn embarrassing all the same.” He leaned forward, black eyebrows coming together in a worried frown. “You won’t repeat what I’ve told you, will you? ’Tis bad enough Bradley got away without the true reason being told.”

  Smiling, Oliver took two of his best cigars out of his breast pocket and offered one to Madison. He bit off one end, spat it into a spittoon, and lit the other end. Smoke curled into his lungs.

  “Of course not, my friend. As always, what is said between us remains in confidence.”

  As the governor then began to expound the details of his recent trip to Cuba, Oliver shut him out. The Jewel. Samantha. Soon they would both be back in his possession.

  It started out as a wee gray speck on the horizon. Luke took the looking glass, and within the small circle saw the speck take shape. His mouth watered.

  A ship!

  Judging by the angle, they were headed straight for each other. It was too far away to be certain, but Luke figured it to be a merchant ship. One gun deck, up to sixteen guns. Twelve if they were lucky. His skin prickled. For a pirate ship, the Revenge didn’t have nearly the amount of weaponry he was used to, but he’d been outgunned before. It added a little excitement.

  “Aidan, looks like things are about to get more lively.”

  “Sir?” the boy asked.

  Luke handed him the looking glass and pointed it for him. “See that ship? In a few hours, we’re going to be having the time of our lives.”

  He’d managed to contain Aidan’s immediate need to wake Joe. They had a few minutes to spare. Besides, he wasn’t ready to let go of the helm yet. There was nothing better than having a ship beneath his palm. Nothing more thrilling than feeling her obey his command; than knowing that with her, the horizon was always within his grasp. And it had been too long, much too long, since he’d been in this position. The tiller pulled at his hand, and Luke tightened his grip.

  Since Aidan was all but dancing in his desire to fetch Joe, Luke agreed it was time. They had to have a plan in place before the other ship could see them too clearly. Aidan stomped away, the heels of his too-large boots dragging on the deck. Luke heard Joe’s grunts, and all too soon he was forced to relinquish control. It didn’t sit well. The knot of pride was a hard one to swallow.

  “Fetch Capt’n Steele, son,” Joe said.

  But Luke was already on his way. “Wake the rest of the crew,” he told the boy, and quickly closed the hatch before Joe could come after him.

  Squawk. “Man in cabin. Man in cabin.”

  Luckily Samantha was tired enough that the bloody bird didn’t wake her. Luke crept to the cage, wondering what a parrot tasted like.

  “Before we’re through here, birdy, you’ll be learning some other words.” He turned back to Samantha.

  Shafts of light spilt from the window in a myriad of slender fingers. One of them danced on Samantha’s face. Her lips, the color of pink coral, were slightly parted. From between them slipped a soft breath. Eyelashes rested on creamy cheeks. Hands, relaxed and open, lay at her sides. The bedcovers lay just over her breasts, and if he hadn’t known her better, he’d say she’d done it deliberately to tease. As it was, the effect was the same.

  He filled with a need to pull the covers down slowly, and feast. He’d seen enough to know the banquet would be bountiful and succulent. And keep him smiling for days. But, woman or not, she was the captain and he needed to wake her. Since she’d been gracious enough to leave some space, Luke eased onto the berth next to her.

  She was warm and soft, and he shifted closer. That was its own kind of torture. Her hair smelled of soap and wind. He gazed down on her, peaceful in sleep, her luscious body pressed close, and began to count. He figured he had until at least twenty.

  She awoke at seven.

  It wasn’t a slow awakening, the kind he’d love to see after a long night of lovemaking, her body exhausted and limp. She bolted to a sitting position even as sleep still blurred her eyes. She gasped loudly, then turned to see what had jarred her awake.

  Luke wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Hello, luv.”

  She shoved her rich hair out of her face and glared daggers at him.

  “What in blazes are you doing here? Again?”

  He pushed on the mattress and hungered after the heat that warmed his hand. Her heat. “Testing the bed, as I’ve yet to sleep on it.”

  Her nostrils flared, but rather than the ranting and cursing he’d been looking forward to, she reached under her pillow and pointed a pistol between his legs. He scurried back.

  “I believe you were told last time that this cabin is off-limits to you during the day.”

  “I was,” he acknowledged, and stepped another inch farther away from the weapon.

  “Then what are you doing here? Other than the rather sad excuse of trying to seduce a sleeping woman.”

  He stepped away from the berth. “It seems your beauty rest is to be postponed yet again. There’s a merchant ship headed straight for us.”

  That the light in her eyes faded didn’t surprise him. That she put away her pistol, did.

  “How much longer?”

  Luke watched her carefully. “We’ve got time. An hour at least.”

  She nodded and frowned, looking at the sunbeam that cut across her berth. “I didn’t get more than a few hours’ sleep, did I?”

  “About two, luv.”

  She sighed. “Fine. You’ve done your job. You can leave.”

  “It seems to me, luv, that as we’re about to leaden our pockets, you should be much happier.”

  Samantha eyed him and shook her head. “Nobody says we’re going to win, Luke. It’s never a certain thing, trying to take another ship. We can be hurt, killed. They could outgun us. The Revenge could sink,” she added softly.

  One day soon, Luke promised himself, he was going to get to the bottom of this sadness and reluctance to be a pirate. Especially since she was a reasonably good one. Though not as great as himself, of course.

  “That’s fine talk before going into battle, Samantha. Shall we tell dear Aidan to save himself the bother and just jump overboard now?”

  “Shut up, Luke.”

  Squawk. “Damn Luke, damn Luke.”

  “Besides,” he added, having fun now that she’d insulted him, “you’ve never gone into battle with Luke Bradley on your side before.”

  Before she could move, he leaned down and gave her a smacking kiss. “Now let’s get going, Samantha. The fun’s about to begin.”

  Six

  The ship on the horizon was gaining steadily. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be seen clearly through a looking glass. If they didn’t do something soon, they’d lose any chance of commandeering the other vessel. Where the hell was Samantha? Luke slapped the looking glass in his palm. She had ten bloody second
s to get up on deck or he’d be going down to get her.

  “Joe, where do we stand?” he heard her ask.

  Finally. Luke jumped down from the bowsprit and stopped dead in his tracks. Then, with a head full of fury and shock, he barreled to the helm.

  “Just what the devil do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  Samantha turned to face him. “I’m about to find out how much time we have and just who is coming toward us. As first mate, Joe would know.”

  Her little dagger hit the mark. He didn’t need a bloody reminder that he wasn’t anywhere near commanding this ship. Or any other, for that matter.

  “And as a member of this crew, which I am whether you like it or not, I want to know why you’re dressed in all these trappings. Just how do you think that’ll help when the guns start firing?”

  Every man on deck stopped working. Maybe they’d never dared question her authority, but damned if he was going to sit back and let her ruin it all. Clearly her reputation had been exaggerated. She didn’t know blazes about running a ship.

  Joe stepped forward, his fists tight and ready. Samantha stopped him with a quiet word and the palm of her hand across his stomach. Then she fixed her attention on Luke. She stood every inch a lady in a demure light yellow gown, her hair arranged on top of her head, with half the curls looking ready to spill from their pins. Whispers of wind made them dance against her cheeks. Late afternoon sunlight gilded the deck at her feet.

  She’d have blended into Port Royal, Havana, or any other fine city. Only the tempestuous storm raging in her eyes painted another picture.

  “I’m hoping, Luke, that guns won’t be necessary.”

  He snorted. “Planning on asking politely if they’ll simply give us their cargo?”

  She moved a folded parasol from her side. Though he figured she’d love to whack him with it, she only held it across her waist.

  “What I plan on doing is heaving a few of the empty barrels we have stored below into the water. We’ve also got some dishes and cutlery we can spare. They will be tossed in as well.”