“What would you have me do? I won’t let her be hurt nor will I discourage her, mainly because I’ve got a ship to run, not play lady-in-waiting for a one with no memory, thus lacking the good manners to return home.” The last he realized he spat out harsher than he needed to. Perhaps he feared the return of her memory now. Because what if she remembered and couldn’t get away from him fast enough for a family or husband? He jabbed the map on the tabletop with his knife that had been a paperweight.
“So she’ll hang wit the rest o’ us by the Crown?” He grunted angrily.
“Fitz…” Trent started, knowing exactly what was driving the man’s hostility. He understood it because it rankled on the level as his. “I’ll do my best to discourage her.”
“Perhaps, laddie, whatcha needs ta be doin’ is droppin’ her by legit bay or marry her, leave the vengeance as done.”
With scope in hand, Trent chose to ignore the first mate. Rachel’s soul demanded retribution for her fate. As to his martial status, that was not a topic to be broached, and the man knew that. Still fuming, Trent stared across the sea. The sound of steel clashing now replaced the wood from the deck below. He tightened at the mere image of her. What he was more afraid of was fear he might fall for her. That fear was worse than her learning sword…
Across the ocean, a black dot appeared. He focused and within a minute, answer came. It was another ship. This time, a merchantman ship. He smiled.
* * *
A drop fell right into her eye and it stung mercilessly but she couldn’t wipe it away without giving her opponent an opening. One he was working hard to make, too. Yet the heat made this more and more difficult and for the first time she could think of, she was dripping with what men called sweat. For ladies, though, it was glistening. That odd and vacant thought drummed up from somewhere deep inside her, making her want to laugh.
Without notice, the man she practiced with made a twist and attacked her from the left. Her counter strike was effectively stopped and she sank to the deck. With a growl of frustration, she glanced at him.
“My dearest, Miles, I must forfeit. I’m too hot to see clearly.” She blinked and this time, had a hand free to wipe her brow. It, too, was a sopping mess. Thankfully, she had thrown her hat to the side before this round, though that let the sun beat on her face, making it redder, she was sure. Perhaps not as burned as a few weeks ago, for the longer she stood out in it, the more color she gained. That ivory skin she had cherished no longer remained untouched except in discreet areas, and it made her giggle. After the pain of the burn, the peeling of her skin, the thin layer of copper remained and she knew that would be frowned upon by the upper class, though she couldn’t recall any of them by name.
The burly, short pirate chuckled and lowered his weapon. “Of course, lady.” He offered his callused hand for her. With a smile, she took it and stood.
“Your lessons are well taught.”
He winked at her. “You chose ta throw your lot in wit the rest o’ us. Looked mighty fine on that treasure ship. Makin’ us proud.”
She blushed. Her short walk across that tenuous plank that stretched the two ships was more a test she put on herself than truly taking a cut in the take. But once across, she couldn’t help be feel the staggering effect of arriving on the other side and the roar of the pirates. She realized later that simple move pushed her beyond being a threat to them, but perhaps elevated her status to that of pirate. It was a position she hadn’t really planned for but, considering where she was, seemed fit.
Of course, that handsome captain might have influenced her on that. The mere whisper of him made her insides melt. When he kissed her, rational thinking evaporated and all she wanted was him. Well, mostly. The ghosts of her past sometimes interrupted what should be sound sleep after love making. She realized something wasn’t right but she couldn’t put her hand on what. Their second time, both were hesitant. She was sure his was in deference to his deceased wife. No reason formed itself in her mind as to her own and that irritated her. Whatever it was, she managed to push aside mostly, but it beckoned to her, like a hand reaching out for help…
Staring at the sea, enjoying the breeze brushing her short hair astray, Elle didn’t hear Trent walk up.
“How are our skills today?”
She laughed, enjoying his referring to her training as “their” training. Wasn’t there a king who talked in the plural? That odd notion came out of nowhere…
“Much improved, Capt’n, much better,” her teacher claimed as he gathered the swords and padded away.
“Were you watching?” She nudged him, fighting hard to not grin but she was too happy not to.
“Aye, lassie, I was.” His eyes sparkled, no doubt full of mischief. “I fail to see what ye’ll be doin’ with all these new skills,” he stated, using the lazy tongue of a pirate.
“Oh, to be sure, I’d be wantin’ to git wit ye on the next routin’,” she returned in her version of pirate lingo.
But the mischief in his eyes vanished and he grabbed her arm. “I’ll have no chance taken in regards to you. Despite your improving talent, I will ask you remain out of harm’s way.”
“Of course I will—”
“No!” He spun her around to stand right in front of him and look out over the sea. “Look to the east. We have another opportunity.”
She could see the image, though faint, more like a gray blimp on the ocean line. “Who is that?”
He pulled out the telescope and, once extended, he gave it to her to view. “’Tis a British ship, merchantman. Traveling from England to the West Indies, if I were to wage a bet. A ship that size will have goods on it, enough to get us through the next few months.” He turned her toward him, the scope tumbling until he grabbed it. “I do not want you aboard her. Being with us as it stands puts you in precarious situation. I will not have your name or face sullied as pirate, do you understand me?”
She shifted, breathless at the chance ahead and the means to avoid his path. When he didn’t release her, she gazed right into his eyes, locking a hold and stated firmly, “I do hear you. And aye, Capt’n’.” She curtsied and broke his hold.
“Elle,” he warned, his voice low. “You know the crown hangs pirates. Even women pirates. I should have left you someplace safe. Not on this ship, not on this voyage. Being aboard injures your reputation. You being seen with a sword in hand and on the ship with us will damn you as a pirate. Please,” he begged. “Stay away from sight. There’s always a chance they might put up a fight. British ships tend to fight back, and while the men here would enjoy a good battle, I don’t want you hurt.”
She bit her bottom lip. His words were heartfelt, the look on his face sincere in concern. Part of her wanted to yell that she would do what she wanted, a freedom that rang from deep inside her, yet it was tempered by his worry. She swallowed the lump in her throat and cast a gaze out across the sea. The ship was still only a dot but that could quickly change. Slowly, she realized she was nodding, acquiescing to his request with some reluctance. While she never doubted it was dangerous—her memory of the first ship they took with her here remained clear—a part deep inside her grumbled about hiding. She did her best to quiet it but a desire for freedom grew with each second.
That nod triggered him to pull her against him, into his arms. A tremble raced through him, she felt it.
“Thank you, my love,” he whispered into her ear, one hand cradling her head as he bent down to kiss her.
The words sank deep into her heart. As his lips touched hers, the word rang about her head – love. Was he proclaiming his love for her? Her heart exploded with the idea. And as his tongue invaded her mouth, taking up the dance of old with hers, she settled comfortably in his arms. Yes, she was ready to love him and with that, she returned the kiss hard, demanding, matching him.
Then why did the voice in the back of her head beckon her to whisper he’s not the one.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Eighteen
It was anoth
er sunny, hot day on the Atlantic. James inhaled the salt air, his heart at rhythm with the sway of the ocean. The sea had called to him earlier in his youth, a time when he was part of the Royal Navy. Even a nobleman’s son could have a difficult time at sea, under the commander’s whip. But the peace the ocean could give a refuge from a brutal world. The sea was long before Eleanor, when as a young man he needed to be tamed, and when he had had his fill, according to his father, he was yanked home to assume his real position. One that called for title and a wife.
He wondered if there was any irony he now had to pursue his wife via the sea…
“So, do you see any?” Clearwater asked, coming up from behind him. “Ships? Spaniards or pirates or so forth?”
James grimaced. Lost in memories of old—a trip he made often of late and the only one to console him—had made him lax in scanning the ocean for problems. Or catching a glimpse of the ship he chased. Still a fortnight from land of the West Indies, he’d given up hope of spotting the ship she was on out here. He pulled up the telescope and looked. He squinted. In the distance sat a ship, one with markings he couldn’t decipher. It was red, white and blue but not matching their British flag nor the Americans.
“What are you looking at that has you so intrigued?”
“It is a ship out there. Can’t decipher her colors well.”
Clearwater snatched the scope out of his hands. Adjusting it to his eye, he glanced outward. James watched him frown.
“That ship is turning toward us!”
James snatched the scope back and adjusted. His friend was right. She had turned, her sails at full mast, billowing in their direction. Only one thought ran through his mind. Pirates. He couldn’t help but smile as he prayed it was the Equuleus. Then he caught sight of it. One flag of multi-colors lowering and he’d bet be replaced by a black flag.
Instead of impending doom, for he knew this sloop was not made to outrun a ship like that nor were the sailors any match for pirates, he was sure, but a certain level of comfort eased into his bones. Eleanor, come home to me…
“We need to get out of here!”
James turned to his friend. Clearwater looked panicked, all pale and tugging at his necktie. In fact, he’d never seen his friend this agitated.
“You are correct.” He passed Clearwater to the captain of the ship, a younger bloke named Sebastian.
“Captain Sebastian, we’re going to have company.”
The mouthy sailor had already begun issuing orders to raise all sails and turn the ship. “Ain’t got guns to take a ship like that on.” He spat. “She fires on us, we be gone.”
James took a step back. Even he could tell that ship was closer. Something deep in his core told him Eleanor was on that ship. It’d been nearly two months, give or take a week as he lost count after a while. It was more like an eternity but he could feel it in his bones she was there. He couldn’t help but smile.
* * *
Elle sat on the aft deck, her toes wiggling as her feet dangled from the crate she sat upon staring over the railing at the distant boat with a certain amount of fear and trepidation swirling inside her. The destruction was terrible if they fired on the prey and the blood of the crossing more so and why she’d never be able to be part of the landing. While improving on the sword, she was far from mastered. No, directly after was good enough—and she’d shut her eyes to see the wounded and bloody deck.
She tilted her head so the sea breeze blew her hair off her face. Awful inconvenience, she decided, to have the shorter wisps that had nothing to hold them back so they constantly seemed to find a way into her eyes.
Stay here. Out of sight. Out of mind was more like it. Her hands gripped the crate edge and pain stabbed at her jawline as her teeth gritted. But did she want to throw her life into piracy? What other opportunities did she have ready? It wasn’t until well into this voyage that the nightmares faded. Not entirely gone but the idea of sleep, of closing her eyes to slumber, scared her until recently. Though she wondered if that happened because of sleeping with Trent. She wasn’t sure but enjoyed the idea none the less.
“Where are your thoughts, my lady?”
She smiled. Fitzgibbons. “Tell me about that ship?”
He peered over her shoulder. “She be a merchant ship. A nice one, fer sure. No doubt ta carry the man who exceeds at his sales.” He snorted.
“So many riches?”
He shot her a look, brows furrowed. “Maybe. From the looks o’ her, I’d be guessing yea. Since when did ya turn pirate?”
She laughed though it was somewhat hollow for it was a question she asked herself. Dressed like them, learning to fight with a sword from them, made her question who she was. It might have helped her if she knew her past but at this point, she gave up on that returning to her. Pity…
“Perhaps that is my calling.” She smiled. Or a pirate captain is… That mere thought made her tingle. If she could just understand why she couldn’t just be overly happy with him. It was annoying to say the least, for the attraction was there, he could make her smile with bed play but there was something that told her he wasn’t the one. Why, though, she couldn’t decipher.
“There be ladies takin’ the account, for sure,” Fitzgibbons stated. “But it be a hard one. Always under watch by the crown. You’ll swing from the noose, like the rest o’ us.”
“So is that what Trent fears? The noose? Or the idea of that for me?” The questions just spilled out of her mouth.
Fitzgibbons opened his mouth but the answer came from the man himself.
“I have no fears for myself, nor for this crew.” Trent walked up behind her and took her into his embrace, pulling her back into his arms. “You, I do hold them for. It is a hard life, with little reward.”
“And that is why you have a ship with a full a compliment of men willing to follow you, all for no gain? Ha!”
He rested his chin on top of her head. “Point well taken. But you are a delicate flower, thrown into a world where nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. I do not want you crushed by it.”
A shiver raced down her spine at the notion that he held her in such regard. “Tell, sir, are you a pirate or a white knight?”
He chuckled. “The first is correct, the latter is one I’ve never been referred to as. Thief, outlaw, murderer,” he listed, the last with a raised tongue, as if he worried she wouldn’t like it. “Many times. But I don’t want you in the same condition.”
She bit her bottom lip. His solemn tone made her fidget, the tension in his arms a contrast to his stance so she turn and looked at across the span of ocean to the other ship. “Then I’ll do my best to not be.”
He kissed the nape of her neck. “Do not be troubled by such. You stay here, out of sight, and you will not be held accountable of the acts of piracy.”
She couldn’t help be adore him more. Then he released her, springing into action of issuing orders to his men and the upcoming attack. The fury that was to unleash overwhelmed her and for once, she was glad he was here. He would make it all right, even through the bloodshed. She shivered and left the decking as the cannons rolled into place. Hell was about to explode here.
* * *
Trent caressed her earlobe, his teeth pulling slightly at the piece of flesh, doing his best to distract her from travelling down the road to her damnation, throwing her lot in with his unholy trade. He was in it to avenge Rachel, not to destroy this sweet angel.
He glanced across the waters at the boat they were pursuing. The sloop flew a British flag. Only wild hopes ran through his mind that Rachel’s murderer was aboard but more likely, this ship could be Elle’s salvation. The closer they got, the more his plan began to form.
He pulled her back and gave her a deep kiss on the lips, tasting every part of her and putting it to memory for that maybe the only place to keep her safe. A whirlwind of lilies and cinnamon exploded on his tongue, every flavor a bit of her. Lily the soap he gave her to wash with and cinnamon the spice that she craved.
He’d hate to give her up but this was no life for a lady. The fact that her memory had not returned concerned him. Doc had shrugged, suggesting that life on the sea gave her mind no reference point to trigger its return. It might never return and Doc stated that people can live, restarting fresh, without a past, though it could hit her later and at a point of no return the longer she stayed in the dark world of pirates. That nagged Trent. She was a lady, born and raised, for she carried all the signs of such in her demeanor, the way she walked upright and proud with a sway to her step, even in sailor clothes. Her speech was that of a proper education. So who was missing her back in merry ole England? A family, a husband? He prayed for neither, therefore not be plagued with guilt for keeping her with him. But this was not the life for her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, the tousled cut hair caressing his cheeks and forehead.
He had no choice. Attack the British ship, damn himself and crew further into piracy, and find a way to get Elle back to London. And for that, earn her hatred. Searing pain stabbed him in the gut like a sword blade as it dawned on him the agony of her departure. The grind to his chest was because he found himself in love with her. Damn!
Equuleus sailed closer to her prey. Over her shoulder, Trent could see the men on that British ship moving. It was time to prepare. With a touch of reluctance, one that was in his bones, he pushed Elle away, and strode purposely to the top deck.
“Aye! She’s ours! Set the guns and prime! Davy, bring her to the portside and raise the gun portals!”
The men scurried to follow his orders. The Britisher was theirs. God and saints above, save us all. It was a prayer he always said before an impending attack. But revenge was vacant, replaced by thoughts of conquer and the release of Elle to safety. His heart clenched.
This Love Of Mine: Chapter Nineteen
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 15