“Where did you get this, Brooke?” he asked her, dropping his arm to look at Brooke.
It surprised her that Charlie had called her by her first name. Usually he used some term of endearment in place of her name, and while she rather liked hearing him call her ‘love’ or ‘darling’, the way he said her name caused a shiver to slide down her back. He was serious, she noticed, as serious as she had ever seen him. He was not accusing her of anything; the way he looked at her was with patience, imploring her to answer when she chose to do so. She could not explain why, but she felt as though she could safely divulge herself without being reprimanded.
“I happened upon this map in a home belonging to my close friend,” Brooke answered, getting more comfortable with his presence. “He is a mapmaker,” she added, and then went over to stand next to Charlie so that they could both view the map without difficulty. “Yet his signature is not where it usually is, right there.” She pointed at the bottom right corner of the parchment.
“Maybe he just forgot to sign it,” Charlie suggested.
Brooke shook her head, pursing her lips in thought. “Joel always signs his work,” she murmured surely. She glanced up at him. “It looks authentic enough, although that is not why I picked it up. I seemed to have been drawn to it.”
“Maybe you are drawn to piracy, and snatched up the map as your first act of becoming a pirate,” Charlie teased, smiling.
Brooke glanced up sharply at him, but ignored his comment.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked her, glancing down at the young woman. She was closer to him than he had expected, their shoulders nearly brushing against each other. He could even smell the scent that radiated from her hair, and could not help but inhale a bit deeper, breathing in her very essence.
“A map?” Brooke answered sarcastically, glancing up at him.
Now it was Charlie who rolled his eyes. “Love, this is much more than a mere map,” he told her. “Have you ever heard of the Dead Man’s Tale?” When Brooke shook her head, Charlie continued. “Legend has it that centuries ago, a man had mysteriously acquired an incredible fortune, and was sailing to the Caribbean to return home to his wife. However, his ship encountered a hurricane, and he and his treasure were never heard from again.”
“Then where does this map lead?” Brooke asked.
“To the treasure,” he responded.
“I thought you said that no one heard of the treasure again,” Brooke pointed out skeptically.
“That is why it is called the Dead Man’s Tale,” Charlie explained as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world. He looked back down at the map. “One of these islands must hold a salvaged portion of the treasure.” He narrowed his eyes at the map for a long moment, and then looked at Brooke once again. “Do you mind if I keep this artifact for an undecided length of time?”
“Do I have a choice?” Brooke countered in a teasing manner.
“Yes,” he said softly, nodding his head in a subdued manner. “Yes, you do.”
Brooke’s smile slid from her face at his low, husky tone, and she had to look away from him. Her eyes glued themselves back to the map. “No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I suppose I do not mind.” She paused, and then dared to look back up at him and into his endless chocolate brown eyes. “Just keep it safe.”
“You have my word,” Charlie told her seriously.
At his words, Brooke bit her lip. “Is that worth anything?” she asked him. She was not jesting with him this time; she truly wanted to know if this man’s word was worth anything.
“I may be a pirate, but when I give my word, I truly and utterly mean it,” he told her. Her eyes drowned in his, trying to read them, looking for any tricks or games in them. However, all she could see was plain sincerity. “Let’s go down and introduce you to Heath,” Charlie said after a moment.
Brooke nodded and followed Charlie outside of his cabin. The pirate captain stuck the folded map into his pocket before cupping the small of Brooke’s back in his hand. He led her down below deck to the very end of the hallway and stopped at the front of the second-to-last door. He rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles. Heath answered promptly, and when he saw Brooke, he smiled genuinely.
“I see now we get our proper introduction,” he told her with a smile. “I am Heath Luther, Charlie’s first mate and the ship’s only cook.”
“Yes, and speaking of cooking, you are to teach this young woman your art of cooking,” Charlie interjected, his hand lightly squeezing Brooke’s side.
“Am I now?” Heath asked, shifting his eyes from Brooke’s to Charlie. He raised a brow.
“That you are,” Charlie replied with a grin. “And as they say, no time like the present. I would like her to develop your skill of cooking some time soon.”
“And why, exactly, am I teaching her my craft?” Heath asked.
“It’s one of the ways she’s going to earn her keep,” Charlie explained, glancing back down at the uncharacteristically quiet Brooke. Her eyes seemed far away, as though she was not there, but somewhere else. His lips pursed in a frown with concern for the young woman and his thumb lightly caressed her side in a manner of trying to attain her attention. If she felt his touch, Brooke made no move to show it. He tried again. “Love?”
Brooke blinked and glanced up into Charlie’s dark eyes. “Yes?” she asked quietly.
Charlie could tell something was amiss with Brooke, but swallowed his concern and told her, “Heath is going to teach you to cook.”
“Yes, I know that,” Brooke remarked curtly.
“Ah,” Charlie replied. “Well then, as long as we’re all on the same page. I will be in my quarters if either of you need me. You two shall make acquaintances, but it would be unwise to get too close, if ye catch my drift…”
“And why would that be?” Brooke asked dryly.
“Ol’ Charlie here’s pretty territorial when it comes to the lasses,” Heath said with a boyish grin.
Brooke’s face flushed slightly, and she looked down. Charlie watched her reaction, sucking his cheeks in slightly as he narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
“We are not like… that,” Brooke said when she realized Charlie was not going to correct his friend.
“Doesn’t matter,” Heath said, looking at Charlie curiously before diverting his attention back to Brooke. “Go on, Charlie. Leave us be. I will reveal my secrets but not in front of anyone else.”
Charlie stared at Heath for a moment, giving him a curt look. Heath gulped, knowing what it meant; if he touched her, he was doomed. Whoever this lass was had some sort of hold over his captain, a hold he had never seen on his captain before. Charlie nodded slightly, and then turned around and left.
“I expect dinner to be exquisite,” he called behind him before disappearing down the hall and up the stairs.
“Well now,” Heath said with a smile, walking out of the door and shutting it behind him. “When Charlie wants something, he stops at nothing until he gets it.” He sighed, wondering about the events that were about to unfold. “Shall we then?”
Brooke arched an eyebrow. She really did not want to be doing this. After that incident with her mother, she really did not acquire a taste for cooking.
“We shall,” she said curtly.
Brooke allowed Heath to lead her down the hall and into the galley. It was a small room, filled with pots and pans. Meat hung from the ceiling, bags of rice spilled onto the floor, and stale bread was left out in the open. The young woman scrunched her nose in disgust as she saw the flies and insects buzzing around. If she was going to work here, cook here for certain lengths of time, then she was definitely going to have to sanitize this place. She sighed; she hated cleaning.
“So, uh, what’s going on between you and Charlie?” Heath asked as he started throwing things in a big pot.
Brooke was leaning on a wooden slab, her shoulder thrust up, her palm resting on it, her eyes watching Heath. When she heard his questio
n, she nearly lost her balance. Her face flushed again, this time tainting her freckled cheeks red. She exhaled through her nose, and glanced up to find Heath had stopped what he was doing to stare at her. Her eyes shot back down to the wooden floor, feeling considerably warmer than she had a moment before. She had to clear her throat to speak clearly.
“I told you, we are not like that,” she told him quietly.
Heath smirked, his brow rising in amusement. “Oh-hoh,” he said with a laugh. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Listen, I know Charlie, and I know Charlie with women. You are not typical when it comes to Charlie and women.”
“Oh?” Brooke’s voice came at sharper than she originally intended.
Heath chuckled and went back to making his stew. “Ah,” he said in recognition. “Does the young miss have a certain curiosity about our captain?”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Brooke said. She hoped her voice sounded convincing because in truth, she was curious; too curious.
“But the cat was brought back by satisfaction,” Heath said with a grin. Brooke couldn’t help but grin back. Heath grabbed a wooden spoon and began to stir the contents of the pot. “Charlie was never one to commit to a woman; the sea was his only love. In fact, he wouldn’t allow any of the men, including himself, to have women aboard, no matter how short a period of time. Because of this, the crew demanded many stops.” He took a glance at Brooke and found her staring intently at him stirring the contents in the pot. But he knew she was listening to him. He glanced back at his pot. “Charlie was never one for ties. The women he was with, he left them without regret. He had no family, except some uncle on some island that he visited once in a blue moon. His friends are his crew. He never married, never planned to. No kids.” He paused and then left the pot to grab serving bowls. He then proceeded to fill the bowls with the stew. Again Brooke scrunched her nose; the scent was not incredibly appetizing. “And now here you are,” he finished, glancing up at the young woman.
“Why would Charlie not marry?” Brooke asked curiously. “I mean, he is attractive enough. He would breed well. He is fit. He is smart.”
“Trust me, Charlie’s received plenty of offers,” Heath said with a wicked grin. “Charlie doesn’t want to give up his life on the sea.”
“Would they make him give that up?” Brooke asked curiously, looking Heath in the eye.
The young man shrugged. “Who knows?” he asked honestly. “Even if they let him maintain his life at sea, he wouldn’t be loyal, and Charlie’s the type of person who won’t commit to anyone unless he’s positive he won’t stray. Don’t get me wrong; Charlie’s incredibly loyal, but romance is a whole ‘nother aspect to the man.” He paused, deep in thought. Brooke looked at him. “I don’t think Charlie’s ever found someone he could see himself settling down with.” He looked at Brooke, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. “And yet here you are.”
Brooke didn’t want to think about what Heath was implying.
“Why does he rub coal around his eyes?” she asked.
Heath shot her a grin and rolled his eyes, two bowls in his hands.
“When coal is rubbed around the eyes, it protects the eyes from the sun,” Heath explained. “It’s easier for the wearer to see when it’s bright, you know.” He threw a grin at her. “Welcome to the world of pirates, m’dear.”
--
“I know you didn’t aid Heath with dinner tonight,” Charlie said, walking Brooke to her door. Unless Brooke was with Heath, Charlie would not let the young woman out of his sight. While he trusted his men to get from ‘point a’ to ‘point b’, he didn’t trust them with a woman, especially not her.
“Oh?” Brooke arched an eyebrow. He hated when she did that. “And what caused you to deduce that reasoning?”
“I may not look intelligent, but I would like to point out that you underestimate me,” Charlie said with a smile. His gold teeth twinkled at her.
“I do believe I overestimate you, if anything, Captain,” she told him quietly. Her back was brushing the front of her door, Charlie’s arms resting on both sides of her doorframe. He was leaning towards her; the close proximity caused her to feel uncomfortable, and yet she was able to look Charlie in the eye.
“You have faith in me.” It was a statement, not a question. He looked at her, waiting for her to respond patiently.
“I trust you,” she murmured quietly.
“We barely know each other and you trust me?” he asked her curiously.
She was chewing her bottom lip but nodded nonetheless. “I don’t expect you to return the trust,” she told him quietly. Charlie opened his mouth to reply, his cheekbones emphasized, but then decided to shut it. He cocked his brow up and tilted his head to the side.
“Why did you take me with you?” Brooke asked suddenly, her voice stronger, her eyes locked with Charlie’s. “No, that is not the question I want to ask. Heath told me about you and your reputation with women. I know you can have a go with any woman at a port, so that is not why I am here, and since we are not in love with each other, I know that is not why I am here either.” She arched the same brow, gently clenching her teeth. “Did you take me because of the map? I am not just some bartering tool, am I?”
“I thought you said you trusted me,” Charlie told her softly, his eyes staring deeply into hers.
“I do,” Brooke said quietly, but offered no further explanation of her inquiries.
“You’re not here because of the map, Brooke,” he told her huskily. “You are not here as a bartering tool.” He breathed in through his nose, and released the breath out through his nose. “You are here because I want you here.” He glanced down quickly at her lips, his eyes deep in thought.
Brooke’s heart beat quickened; she heard the pounding in her ears. Was he going to kiss her?
“G’night, love,” he said finally, forcing a smile that did not reach her eyes. He looked back up into her eyes. “If you need me, you know where to find me, yeah?”
Brooke nodded, and bid him goodnight, her heart beat still quick. She was afraid, not because she was on a pirate ship with a group of men she didn’t know, not because Port Royal was being attacked, and not because she did not know if her friends and family were all right. No, she was afraid because she felt slight disappointment that he did not lean down and kiss her. The irrationality of it scared her. She was worried about all of those terrible things, but that anxiety was all in her mind. It was logical. This disappointment wasn’t.
She turned and walked into her room, preparing for a long, sleepless night.
--
“... and the lass?”
“What ye mean about the lass?”
“What we gonna do about ‘er?”
“Offer her the same deal.”
“No, you dolt! She won’t take it, ye know she won’t!”
“When are we takin’ this through?”
“Soon. The girl threw us off our plan. I would say before the end of the week’s up.”
“Aye.”
The voices outside Brooke’s door woke her. She did not sleep for the rest of the night.
Chapter VI
“I swear that what I tell you is true!” Brooke exclaimed, pacing back and forth in Charlie’s cabin.
The pirate captain was still lying in his bed, his dark eyes half-opened. Brooke had just knocked on his door and walked in at the crack of dawn, spilling out everything she had overheard, or thought she had overheard, to Charlie. Charlie listened patiently, his shaggy hair disoriented, and he was yawning every other moment. He could see that Brooke was obviously distressed, but he could not believe that his crew would even think about mutiny. He trusted his crew immensely, and he believed they trusted him as well.
“Love, I believe that what you say you believe is true.” His low voice was slurry when he was tired. Charlie winced as he forced himself to sit up. The satin covers fell as he moved up, revealing his toned chest. Dark hairs lightly covered his upper chest, and there were differen
t scars and tattoos on his body.
Brooke glanced at Charlie when he spoke, and her eyes fell on his exposed chest. Her face went red and she immediately looked away and continued to pace. Now her thoughts were muddled with Charlie’s toned chest, his battle wounds, and the permanent ink that stained his chest.
“I also believe that you happen to like what you see,” he said with a cheshire-like grin.
Brooke stopped pacing and gave him a disgusted look. “Let’s not change the subject,” she said curtly. “I know what I heard.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a dream?” Charlie asked, leaning on his wooden headboard. He yawned, his gold teeth peeking out from his mouth.
“Because I know,” Brooke told him firmly. “Do you not trust me?” She tilted her head ever-so slightly. Her green eyes were big, pleading with him.
He sighed through his nose, opened his mouth and then shut it as though he was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he said, “I do trust you, love, I do, but I trust my crew as well, and in all fairness, they were here first.”
Brooke opened her mouth in shock at what he said, and he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“That was a stupid thing to say,” Charlie mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “All I know is that if my crew was planning a mutiny on me then I would definitely know about it.”
“Charlie, you are a great captain,” Brooke murmured quietly, “but a poor judge of character.”
“I greatly appreciate your concern for me and me ship, but I can guarantee you that no mutiny is about to take place,” he told her. “I’ve known these lads for a while now, and they’ve given me their loyalty. I wouldn’t expect anything but that.”
Brooke knew she couldn’t expect him to trust her immediately, but there was no reason for her to lie about something as serious as mutiny. In a way, she felt like he was tarnishing her name, her reputation because of his lack of faith in her. Did he think she was a liar? If he didn’t trust her with something as serious as this, then why did she run away with him in the first place? She had put her life in his hands, and sadly, he didn’t do the same. But then again, she barely even knew him. What frustrated her the most was that she knew what she heard; she knew this mutiny was about to take place, and she could do nothing about it. It was going to happen, and because of Charlie’s doubt in her, it would be successful.
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