by Diana Layne
The gold. Her mind jerked back from the memories. Anger that she’d been duped, that she hadn’t recognized the only man she’d ever loved, girlish infatuation or not, washed through her. She didn’t know if she was angrier at him or herself. “You’re counting on a childhood fancy to make me trust you?”
Oh, but it hadn’t felt like a fancy, the night she snuck out of her cabin and into his, the night before she was sent off to that hated school for girls. The kiss they’d shared...
Clearly, he remembered. But this was too sudden. She didn’t know how she felt—about him, about his idea, about the way he’d gone about getting her attention. Anger, happiness, suspicion, elation—too many emotions bombarded her. She, who was used to an iron control over herself, did not like all of these conflicting feelings attacking her.
“Are you hungry? Let’s order food and we can discuss my proposal.”
Proposal. What an interesting word choice. Once, she’d hoped for a proposal of a different kind. Humiliation resurfaced. She had to get away, breathe fresh air where she could think straight. She brought forth her card-playing face. “I think not.”
Briefly, his eyes widened. He quickly covered his surprise with a charming smile. “You’re missing a great opportunity.”
“It will be my loss.” She was doing the right thing, she told herself. Instinct told her it would be dangerous to get tangled with Chuck, now known as Captain Charles the Charming.
“You just lost a ship full of booty. You’re willing to lose more?”
Oh, there was the rub. She wanted those goods he’d stolen. Needed them. Without that haul, she’d be hard pressed to restock her ship. Or take care of her father.
“I’ll make you a bargain,” she said at last, choking the words through a throat squeezed tight. “You deliver the booty you stole from me, and then we’ll discuss your...proposal.”
****
Gina found Mickey at the bar and dragged him away from his latest pint without another glance at Charles, although she was quite aware of his gaze on her.
“It’s really him,” she said to Mickey once they were outside the tavern. “Captain Charles is Chuckie. Did you know?”
“Saints be praised! Nay, I didn’t know. I’ve shared a pint or two with him, but never did he let on he was Chuck,” Mickey confessed. “That scar and the beard change his looks. He barely had hair on his face last time I saw him on the Gypsy Doll. Did he say what happened to him?”
“No, he didn’t.” They turned on the sandy path which led to the wharf, the warm salt air blowing away the smells of The Boarshead. “Babbo said he thought Chuck had been shanghaied.”
“Aye, your father, he’s the right of it, I’m thinking. Several young sailors went missing from that port that year.”
“But now he captains his own ship? How did that happen?”
“He did not tell ye?”
“No.”
Was it necessary for her to know in order to consider his offer?
Mickey continued, “Most men shanghaied do not live long enough to escape.”
Gina stopped in shock. “Are you suggesting he jumped ship?”
He shrugged. “It’s been known to happen.”
“But he’d just been made first mate,” she said to his retreating back.
Mickey came to a stop and turned to face her. “Mayhap he got a better offer.”
She shook her head. “I find that hard to believe. A better offer than sailing for my father?”
“Aye, it has been an honor to sail for you both.”
His words warmed her heart. But a warm heart did little to help her make a decision.
“Will Cap’n Charles return the goods, or will we blow his ship out of the water?”
She grinned at Mickey’s enthusiasm. “He didn’t say whether he would or wouldn’t.”
He rubbed his hands together. “It be blow him up, then.”
“Not quite so fast.”
“What? Has the charmer’s charm gotten to you? Did we push the Gypsy Doll hard for no reason?”
Gina wasn’t so sure she liked his implications. Then again, she had pushed both men and ship hard.
“He had a proposition for me.”
“And ye walked away from that table without running him through?”
“What?” She widened her eyes. “No, no, not that kind of proposition. He wants our help in attacking a Spanish frigate.”
“You did not agree, did ye?” Shock threaded through Mickey’s voice. “Those Spaniards are formidable.”
“I neither agreed nor declined. I told him I’d hear him out if he returned our goods.”
“Captain, meaning no disrespect, but are ye daft?”
“A promise to hear him out is worth it if he returns our goods.”
“Do ye think he’s trustworthy, then?”
“At this point, you could say as well as me.” Once she would have believed anything Chuck said, but Charles? She had no idea if she could trust him...or who he’d become because of where he’d been.
“Caution would be the word,” Mickey advised.
“Si, I will be very cautious.” She greeted the men on guard as they walked up the Gypsy Doll’s gangplank. The rest of the men were on shore leave, rotating out in small groups to keep watch on the ship. “If he brings the booty to the ship in the morning, that will be the first step to prove he honors his word.”
“Or the first step to set a trap.”
She appreciated Mickey’s distrust ran as deep as her own. “We’ve avoided traps before.”
“Aye, we’ve always sailed with fair weather luck.”
“You aren’t going to start in with that doll again, are you?”
“How else would you explain it? The Gypsy Doll has never been sunk or captured.”
“The captain having brains has nothing to do with our luck?”
“Aye, a smart captain helps; even a magic doll cannot help if a fool is at the helm. And you be no fool, Captain.”
She chuckled, knowing he still thought the doll played a more important role in the ship’s safety than her decisions. “Ah, Mickey, you are so good for my spirits.” They reached her cabin, and she opened the door. “Good night.”
“G’nite, Captain.”
Once in the cabin, Gina’s gaze went to the doll sitting in the middle of her bunk. The dark eyes in her painted face matched her dark hair, and she wore a white shirt slightly yellowed with age and a bright gypsy skirt faded only a little by time.
Gina’s grandfather had made the doll from whalebone after his wife, Gina’s grandmother, had been tragically murdered. He’d carved a rose in the center of the doll’s chest, in tribute to his wife, Rosa. Gina’s grandfather had been talented, that was certain. The doll, which Gina had named Rosa after her grandmother, was a lasting work of art.
On her deathbed, Gina’s mother had given the doll to Gina, explaining it would protect her from those who would betray her. Originally, Gina’s grandfather had asked a gypsy witch for a spell of protection on the eve of his daughter’s wedding. Her grandfather hadn’t trusted that Gina’s father truly loved her mother, and that he’d be true to her. He was a pirate, after all.
Somehow the doll had absorbed the spell; Gina wasn’t sure how that happened. But she couldn’t discount the idea that the doll had some sort of power—sometimes the stare from her dark painted eyes seemed disturbingly real.
The curse apparently worked. The only man Gina had had a slight interest in, once she’d been convinced Chuck was lost to her forever, had died from an infection sustained from a sword wound. She later learned the man had been wooing her toward marriage so he could take over her ship.
Gina was never certain if the doll’s curse or simple misfortune had caused his demise. Either way, she was grateful she hadn’t fallen into his trap and lost both her heart and her ship.
Of course, as far as men and true love went, how honorable a man could one find among pirates? Men like her father, with character and a strong
sense of the code, were rare.
Whether it was the doll, as Mickey touted, her cleverness, as she’d rather believe, or just plain luck, Gina had avoided any catastrophes in spite of plots against her.
She picked up the doll. “If only you were more useful,” she said. “If you’d had the ability to save my mother from the infection that took her life.” She had been twelve when she watched her mother take her last breath. Gina had held the “magic” doll in her arms as she clung to her dying mother’s hand. Alas, the doll didn’t have power over life and death.
Still, something that protected her from disloyalty wasn’t a bad thing to have around, she supposed. Not as useful as a brain, though. And Gina did have the brains to avoid marching blindly into a trap. Captain Charles, no matter how charming, was going to have to prove himself before she joined in his venture.
Hanging her sword on the bedpost, she crawled into her bunk fully clothed—it was never safe to wear bedclothes on a ship full of men, even if most were on shore leave. She hadn’t worn a nightdress since she was a child.
She picked up the doll again, to study it in the slight bit of moonlight that came through her porthole. She couldn’t deny Rosa seemed to vibrate with some sort of mysterious power and always felt warm, not cold as one would expect a bone doll to feel. Even with her pragmatism, Gina couldn’t totally denounce the magic.
Of course, with gypsy blood running through her veins, she really had no choice. Superstition was part of her heritage.
Chapter 2
The sun was still hiding when a loud thump on deck woke Gina. She came alert in an instant. Snatching her sword, she bounded out of bed and rushed out of her cabin, rounded the corner, and jolted to a stop.
Captain Charles stood on deck supervising his crewmen as they stacked crates.
“Your spoils, m’lady,” he said with a wave of his arm and a bow worthy for a queen.
This morning he looked more like the Chuck she remembered, as he’d shaved the bushy beard to a neat goatee. The scar on his cheek, more visible with less facial hair, wasn’t as detracting as she would have thought.
She resisted the urge to smile and ignored her relief that he honored his word. He’d stolen those damn goods from her; there was no need to be happy at their return. He only oozed charisma to cover his crime and win her help.
She stared at him until she was certain she could speak without her lips twitching in answer to his smile. “Congratulations.” She used the booming voice she reserved for throwing out orders to her sailors. “You held to your word.”
At her tone, his beguiling expression barely wavered. “And did you think I wouldn’t?”
His smugness compelled her to hang onto her dignity. “It doesn’t surprise me, no. It only makes sense, if you want my help with your crazy scheme, that you pacify me by giving back what is rightfully mine.”
Her words wiped the smile off his face. Obviously, he’d been counting on exploiting her former infatuation with him. “If it were yours, then it would be on your ship, I’m thinking.”
“It is on my ship,” she pointed out. “Where it would have been in the first place if not for a thieving captain—”
“But aren’t we all thieves, my lovely pirate captain?”
“Excellent point. Exactly the reason I shouldn’t trust anything you say.” And she should go about her business as usual, not put faith in his confounded proposal.
“Even as I’ve proved I’m trustworthy?” Before she could respond, he added, “Hello, Mickey.”
Gina spun to find her first mate behind her.
“Captains.” He nodded to them both and then, with a sideways look to Charles, addressed her. “You gonna let them leave before we check over the booty?”
Charles laughed. “So much for proving my trustworthiness.”
“Distrust keeps a person alive.” Gina stated the obvious.
With a wave of his arm, Charles said, “By all means, check to make sure I have not cheated you out of goods that were not yours to begin with.”
She poked her finger in his chest. “It was ours in the first place. We took all the risks.” She turned to Mickey. “After you check, start gathering the things I need to take to my father.”
“Not today, I hope?” Charles said.
She looked at him with lifted brows. “Excuse me?”
“You’re supposed to meet with me. We agreed once I delivered the goods, you’d meet with me and hear my offer.”
“It won’t take more than five minutes for me to listen and tell you no.”
For the first time, he showed a hint of irritation with a scowl. “So confident you’ll refuse?”
“You think I’d enter into an agreement with a pirate? Do I look like a fool?” She heard Mickey chuckle as he walked away.
Charles moved closer and lowered his voice. “I think you look beautiful, love, even if you did just tumble out of bed and your hair is all mussed.” With both hands, he lifted her hair hanging on either side of her face and smoothed it back behind her shoulders. His touch, light as the ocean breeze, made her shiver.
She felt out of breath and had to take a step back.
He’d certainly perfected his skills over the years. It was rumored, Mickey had told her, that Charles the Charmer could sweet-talk the sirens away from their rocks. She believed it.
Oh, had he shown but a taste of that talent years earlier, when she’d revealed her infatuation in a tongue-tied rush of garbled words on the eve of her departure for boarding school... But alas, perhaps what he’d truly exhibited all those years ago was compassion—any bit of encouragement would have made leaving for school that much harder.
His laughing dismissal of her confession had been quite enough to harden her heart, giving her one less thing to pine for while she’d been away from everything she ever knew. Mayhap he had known it would be so.
But no, she could not afford to imbue him with such thoughtfulness, not when there were decisions to be made.
When his comment on her disheveled state failed to provoke a reaction from her, he raised an eyebrow, apparently nonplussed his customary charm had failed.
“You act stalwart, love, but I think you’re an intelligent woman who won’t turn down a chance to make money.”
She strolled three paces away to add distance between them. “I said I’d meet with you, and I will. As a matter of fact, we can discuss your scheme right now.”
“Now?” Charles looked around. “Are you inviting me to your cabin?”
“I beg your pardon?” In spite of her best efforts, the memory sharpened of the last time they’d been in a cabin together, his very small first mate’s cabin after he’d been newly promoted. No. She clamped down her teeth. She was not going to remember that.
Charles was speaking again. She must concentrate.
“...need a flat surface and parchment to illustrate my plans.”
Flat surface? Immediately, her treacherous mind went to her bunk.
“Your cabin has a desk? Star charts?”
She was finding it nearly impossible to control her wayward thoughts this morning. She needed him to leave. “My cabin. No. Not a good idea.”
“Ah, love,” he said with a sly smile, “methinks you have a wicked mind to suspect my intentions are less than honorable.”
Of course she had a wicked mind. She was the one who had entered his cabin uninvited, a fact he no doubt would never forget. He’d been the honorable one. Then. And now—he’d only been thinking of star charts.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. As casually as she could, she asked, “Where had you in mind for us to meet?”
“If not your cabin...” He let his voice trail suggestively. “Then The Boarshead is a suitable place to plan nefarious deeds.”
Meaning the tavern was loud and noisy and the chances of being overheard were slim. “What time?”
“Will you be back from your father’s by this evening?”
“I am not going to his island today. I have ot
her business to attend.” Like selling the booty now on her ship and buying additional supplies for her father. Special items beyond staples, such as the hand-rolled cigars he preferred, the bottles of fine aged wine.
“Then let us meet this evening at dusk.”
“So late?”
“I’d like to have supper with you.”
“Supper?”
“It will give us time to catch up on our years apart. Nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure.”
To her, it sounded like torture. “Pleasure for whom?” she couldn’t resist asking.
“Ouch, m’lady, you wound me deeply.” He splayed a hand over his heart. “Your fondness for me seems to have waned over the years.”
The very tips of her ears were burning now. She wished he had forgotten. But how could he? Her stupidity was no doubt emblazoned on his brain as well as hers. And how ungentlemanly of him to refer to her young girl’s infatuation.
“We all grow up.” She leaned on her sword, the tip on the deck. “And forget the silliness of youth.”
“You definitely grew up.” Charles slid closer. Oblivious of her sword, he took her free hand and brought it to his lips. “Perhaps over our supper, I can bring back some of your memories.”
Resist him, she told herself. He’s only using his manly appeal to get what he wants. “I see no use for that.”
“What I see is that, in our time apart, your heart has grown cold. Tonight, I will attempt to persuade you that business with me would be a pleasure.”
She forced out a calming breath. “You are so full of whale dung.”
He chuckled. “Tonight, dear Gina, you’ll sing a different tune.”
He turned and strode away, pausing to give last-minute instructions to his men. Gina willed her heart to slow, resisting the idea that he intrigued her as much as when she’d been a love-besotted ninny.
****
After Gina and Mickey took inventory of the booty, she spent the day lining up buyers and purchasing basic supplies for her next voyage. It was harder these days than it used to be, with King George having appointed a governor determined to run the pirates out of the Bahamas. Still, she knew the right people, had the right papers, and regulations had at last been lightened. She managed to get a nice price for her goods.