Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  She had a vague sense of someone grabbing her by the waist, a strong arm pulling her back to the rolling swells and the starry sky. As she thrust above the surface, she heaved again, filling her lungs with precious air. Crisp, sweet, life-saving, precious air.

  Her savior, no, her captor held her close. His mouth rested on her ear, panting. “Damn it. I should have been aware the distance would be too much for you, especially wearing a dress.”

  For what she could’ve sworn was an eternity, they reached the ladder at last. The climb up the rope without stepping on the fellow’s hands was a challenge. He pushed on her arse and hoisted her over onto the deck. Bless me. Firm ground.

  Lianna collapsed to the floor and sprawled on her back to catch her breath. Slowly, she opened her eyes. What she beheld caused her heart to stop.

  Pirates!

  Suddenly drowning didn’t seem so terrible.

  She scrambled to her feet and pressed against the railing to distance herself from the rough, lethal-looking seamen surrounding her. Long shadows hollowed out their faces in the moonlight. The dim light afforded her the pirates’ callous expressions. Trouble surely awaited her.

  “Lookit what the Capt’n has brought us, lads.” A rather short, burly man angled his sword at her neck. On his aging, weathered face, he wore a gray, coarse beard with tiny red bows tied into its tips. His grin lacked a tooth or two, but his eyes were lively.

  He motioned others over to see what he had found. The den of pirates closed in.

  “Stand down, Henri.” The pirate complied with the command of her abductor, who just swung over the rail. To Lianna, he said, “Welcome aboard my ship, the Rissa. I see you’ve met my crew.” He motioned to her right. “And this is my quartermaster, Blade Tyburn.”

  The blond man from the port climbed on board from the ladder they had just ascended.

  Where’d he come from?

  Dripping wet, Blade bowed. “Pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” He gave her a wicked smile.

  The captain rolled his eyes, removed his wet weapons and handed them to one of the deckhands.

  “Well, Tyburn?”

  Blade winked at her before turning his attention to his captain. He, too, removed his weapons for the crewman. “Bennington sacked the tavern looking for The Serpent and when he realized it wasn’t there, he had his men set fire to it.”

  Lianna looked toward the port. In the distance, an orange glow blazed against the inky night sky. Her uncle would no doubt blame her for that. He blamed all his maladies on her, sometimes with good reason.

  “He suspects the lady possesses it,” finished Blade, winking again.

  The eyes of the entire crew bore down upon her. She stiffened her back and held her chin high. “As I have already plainly stated, I don’t have whatever it is you are after.”

  Lianna wasn’t sure just what she was doing. If she handed the medallion over, they might kill her on the spot or toss her back into the sea. And yet they would probably kill her regardless. She was staking she could use the medallion as leverage for her life. She would be no match for these pirates but she wasn’t about to give in readily. Nay, she would stand her ground to defend herself, and likely die trying.

  “Capt’n wouldn’t have brought her on board if she didn’t have it,” blurted a buccaneer in the back of the crowd.

  “Aye. I say we take turns looking for it. When we’re done, we could lob her to Bull,” said another.

  A colossal man wearing a yellow-stained skullcap over his bald head stepped forward. He wore no shirt, revealing a massive rust-darkened chest covered in angry scars. His cracked, infected lips were framed in a robust black circle beard and a menacing stare hooded his face.

  “Aye, I’ll find pleasure with her long after she turns cold and lays useless.”

  As his meaning became clear, the pit of her stomach tightened.

  Uneasy laughter spread among some of the seamen; others turned their lips up in disgust.

  The captain grimaced, as if he didn’t doubt the accuracy of Bull’s statement. “There’s no need for inconveniencing the lady. I’m sure she will give us the medallion with no trouble at all.”

  He took her by the elbow and guided her to the short man sheathing his sword. “Henri. Please show the lady to the guest quarters before I have to quell an assault on her and kill someone.”

  “The guest quarters? But, Capt’n, that’s…”

  The captain cut him off. “Are you flouting my orders?”

  “No, Capt’n.” Henri bowed his head. “Right away, Capt’n.” He picked up a lantern off a barrel and lit it. The little flame grew. Lianna wished the light would chase away the scary darkness oozing from the pirates surrounding her. There was safety in light, or so she hoped.

  “This way, girlie,” Henri said.

  Lianna didn’t hesitate following the old salt to escape the imminent danger lurking all around. Her options were non-existent. Being taken to a bedchamber was the best she could hope for. She would need time to sort her quandary.

  Humidity thickened the air below deck. The cool breeze that trailed them in the hatch died away leaving a distinct odor of timber and pitch in its wake. Glow from the lantern spread across the walls down the length of the unpleasantly narrow companionway. Henri led her to a door adjacent to an ornate entry, most likely leading to the captain’s quarters. Fumbling for the keys, the short man grumbled under his breath. She couldn’t hear what he was uttering but she knew well enough he held a great disapproval in her staying in this room. He handed her the lantern. No sooner had Lianna stepped inside, the door slammed shut. The sound of an engaging lock clunked behind her. She sighed, captive again.

  Lianna hung the lantern on a rafter hook and surveyed her new prison cell, amazed by what she beheld. The room was modest but immaculate, washed in an indulgence of blue. The textures and colors were warm and inviting. Lianna, herself, had never seen such opulence. A cozy bed covered in lush velvets, sheer scarves and silk pillows dominated one wall. An elaborately carved mahogany chest of drawers stood bolted to another wall. Atop the lipped dresser lay a silver hand-held mirror and matching brush. An equally impressive detailed, small writing table, flanked by a matching wooden chair, occupied the third wall. And a vase full of fresh sweet smelling flowers had been securely placed on the writing table. The faint aroma of roses filled the comfortable space.

  How odd. She didn’t think a pirate ship would have such accommodations. And flowers? Someone had taken great care in tending to this room. Why? Surely pirates did not receive guests on board while they raided and murdered their victims.

  She then noticed a second door in the room partially hidden by the desk. At once, she realized that it must lead to the captain’s room. How would his quarters be furnished? Curious, she reached across the desk and tried the knob. Locked.

  Lianna nearly hopped out of her skin at the knock from outside. The bolt unlatched and Henri let in a young cabin boy. Unkempt chestnut hair flipped and curled around his youthful face. His careworn clothes needed a good scrubbing, as did his bare feet.

  “Pardon me, ma’am. The Capt’n thought you might be needin’ a change of clothes.” The lad handed her a bowl of water, sponge, and a neatly folded dress draped over his arm.

  Smooth, pink scars, reminiscent of a noose, scored his scrawny neck. He must’ve been very lucky to survive that fate.

  She had once witnessed a public hanging at the waterfront. ’Twas a despicable act of cruelty that left the accused devoid of any dignity. Sickened as she watched the condemned man convulse before dying, she swore to never participate in the pomp of a man’s death again. She could only imagine how terrible and frightening it must’ve been for the boy.

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  His dirty face lit up and he smiled back.

  “Come, Jason!” Henri called.

  Jason frowned, averted his brown eyes downward and scurried out the door.

  As Henri bolted the lock, Lianna’s smile also
faded. Her condition had become quite dire and ever peculiar. By all accounts, she should be dead. Not standing in the middle of a pirate’s ship in a room fit for a queen and holding a gown far better than the shabby, sopping wet dress she wore. She laid the dress on the bed and sat.

  She reached down her bodice and pulled out the cause of her current bane. The medallion, made of pure gold, hung from a glittering chain. She let it hang. It twirled around; the light from the nearby lantern glinted off the golden surface. Taking the ornament in her hand, she further inspected it. A roughly drawn snake had been cast into the precious metal. She rubbed her thumb across the face before flipping it over to the strange symbols and inscription written in what she thought to be Latin. How unfortunate that she couldn’t read a word.

  What in the world did everyone want with this pendant? She was certain she couldn’t possibly know. More important, how did she manage to let this happen? She huffed, angry at herself for not fighting off Basile in the beginning. Or maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here had she tried harder to escape her captor.

  Lianna’s mind drifted to the captain. He had been dressed as a gentleman, wearing black breeches, a white linen shirt and, before he shed it in their escape, a fine black damask waistcoat. Indeed, he looked as if he’d just been to a social ball. His long black locks had been tied with a white ribbon and his angular face cleanly shaven. He wore a gold hoop earring in each ear. Aye, she found him very fine looking, very fine looking indeed. She should like very much to be swept away from her miserable existence by such a handsome man, except for the annoying fact that he was a pirate. But those eyes, those eyes seemed to sear through to her very core. She shivered.

  He’s a man, Lianna, and all men are rancorous wretches.

  Her focus returned to the necklace. She didn’t know what was to become of her. But as long as she had The Serpent in her possession, it would keep her alive. At least, she hoped, for a little while longer.

  CHAPTER 2

  Commodore Bennington stood on the dock, his jaw gnashing his teeth. He watched the silhouette of Zane Fox’s brig slip away from the Nassau coastline into the black sea.

  “Sir?” Lieutenant Trent stood just behind him waiting for orders.

  The crease between Bennington’s eyes deepened as he tried to rub away the headache that pounded like a relentless drum roll. “Prepare to set sail.”

  “We’re going after Zane Fox? But he doesn’t have the medallion.”

  Bennington gave a long sigh. Whom had he displeased to be so fortunate as to be surrounded by imbeciles? “He has the wench. Therefore, he has the medallion.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “The Frenchman knew his time was up, so he gave the medallion to the maid. Why else would Zane Fox capture the girl? It isn’t as if he could garner a ransom for someone so worthless, could he, Trent?”

  “Well, no, I suppose not.” Trent shuffled insecurely. “But Commodore, the Rissa, she’s fast. Too fast for us to catch.”

  Craning his neck to crack the tension, Bennington closed his eyes. Just once, he would like to not be reminded that he had yet to catch Zane Fox and the Rissa. He had been chasing that cross-grained pirate for two years. And for two years, he had been outfoxed, as it were.

  “We don’t need to catch her. We just need to follow her until we can attack. Now, Lieutenant Trent, if you are done questioning me with your insipid conjectures, prepare to set sail.”

  Trent stiffened his back. “Yes, sir.” He saluted and turned on his heel.

  The pirate ship faded from view. This would be Bennington’s last chance. If he did not return to Governor Wilcox with the medallion and if the Governor found out that it had fallen into Zane Fox’s hands, Bennington would certainly be hanged for failure of duty. And he wasn’t about to let that happen. He’d rather swallow hot grapeshot than be made a spectacle for the verminous masses.

  *****

  “Stay the course for Tortuga.” Zane moved away from the helm when Henri returned from depositing the woman in her room.

  “Capt’n, about the lass…” Henri stepped onto a box so he could maneuver the wheel at a comfortable height.

  “Enough, Henri. We’ve had a woman on board this ship before.”

  “Aye, but she was different. This puss shouldn’t be here. She’ll bring bad luck down upon our heads. We take what we need, that’s what we do, and throw her overboard.” The little man became rigid as he realized all but too late what he had said. “I didn’t mean…”

  Zane raised his palm. He would hear no more.

  Henri was a brilliant, loyal pilot and friend. Gruff he was, especially when one mentioned his height, but the kind of man you wanted at your back. He had once saved Zane’s hide in a battle some years ago, dragging his young, wounded body to safety during a raid in a long forgotten seaside town. Zane returned the favor on many occasions since. However, Henri had a peevish habit of assuming Zane’s role and undermining his decisions. Intolerable.

  Zane crossed his arms with impatience. “Are you telling me how to carry out my charge? Have you forgotten the laws of my ship?”

  “No, Capt’n.”

  “If you have any more insolent ideas, I’ll throw you overboard. Do we have an understanding?”

  Henri nodded once. “Aye, Capt’n.”

  He would never do such a thing to the old fool. But no one told Zane how to handle his affairs. Least of all friends.

  “Willie will be topside when the bells are made at first watch. You’ll be relieved of the helm then.”

  Zane left Henri at the wheel and walked to the stern where Blade joined him. Resting their arms on the railing, they listened to the waves break as the Rissa sailed through the black water. The faint wind guided the brig through the abysmal sea. The sea, Zane knew, was fickle. She could see a man’s way safely across the world or open up to swallow him whole. He had always found her alluring, no matter her tempestuous behavior.

  Blade broke the silence. “Bennington will not be far behind.”

  “No.”

  “We’ll have to engage him.”

  “Aye.” Zane smiled, though in the dark, he doubted his friend could see his mirth.

  “The medallion?”

  “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting it from the wench.”

  “Ah, but I hope that you do, brother.” Now it was Blade who smiled.

  “Oh?”

  “Then I should have a shot at the task. She is a lovely chit.”

  “Ha!” Zane faced his friend. “Do you ever think of anything other than chasing a petticoat?”

  “Sure. Well, uh, no.”

  Zane laughed, clapping Blade’s shoulder. “Well, I’m quite sure I can handle this bonny myself.”

  In fact, it was time to pay his guest a visit. He wagered she had been given enough time to clean and dress.

  Blade called after him. “Should you need my help—

  “I won’t.”

  The little lady had impressed Zane with her mettle. Most women would be begging for his mercy in fear of losing their virtue and life. This woman risked certain death by defying a ship full of soulless rogues. High born she wasn’t, but she carried herself as such. Peculiar lass. She intrigued him by her beauty as well as her strength. Her long cascading hair reminded him of the color of a newborn fawn. Full pouty lips enhanced her button nose. Standing up on deck earlier, looking more like a wet cat than a woman, he had found her irresistible. That waterlogged dress had accentuated every ample curve and dip of her body. Even by the dim light of the moon, he desired to stroke her glistening skin and prove she was indeed softer than Asian silk. His own body stirred whilst he fancied touching that skin.

  His mood lightened. He should think to follow Blade’s lead and take more than just The Serpent.

  *****

  With the knock at the door, Lianna stuffed the medallion back down her bodice.

  The bolt slid back. “Are you decent?” the captain called as he strode inside. “Och, now. Wh
y are you still in those wet clothes?”

  Lianna popped up to her feet. The nerve of him barging in as if to catch her in the middle of her undress. “I shan’t put on a frock that undoubtedly was plucked from another.”

  “Careful, my lady. It sounds as if you are calling me a thief.”

  “So this is yours?” She held up the simple rose gown trimmed in a white cord. Looking at the soft, delicate texture then casting a wry glance to the captain, she quipped, “I wouldn’t think it to fit your measurement.” There she went again, taunting a devil. Her sauce had gotten her in much trouble on countless occasions. Most of the time her flippancy went clean over any wastrel’s head. But ever so often, she had been put in her place, usually in a disagreeable manner. Would she ever learn?

  “’Tis not my color.” He stepped in close, peering down at her breasts. The edge of his mouth quivered into something of a smirk.

  Lianna stood very still as he crossed behind her, gooseflesh crept down her spine. She said nothing lest she should anger him further, not forgetting him to be dangerous. “You will present yourself to me washed and dressed by a quarter past the hour.” His voice was low, menacing. “If you do not oblige me, I will see fit to have you stripped and lashed above deck for my men’s enjoyment.”

  No bargaining with that. The submission burned in her gut but she bowed her head ever so slightly. “As you wish, sir.” If he heard the anger laced in her words, he made no sign of it before leaving her cabin.

  Another curse tumbled from her lips. Infuriated, she would do as he bade. The dress was a little long but otherwise fit her snugly. She struggled with the tangles in her hair using the silver brush. The bristles were so soft she found it difficult to free the knots. It felt strange and intrusive using the brush that belonged to another woman, a woman whose room she now occupied. What had become of her? Where was she now?