Bound by the Buccaneer (Pirates of the Jolie Rouge)

by Normandie Alleman

  “Likewise,” Gaston said, peeling his hand away from Chatham’s unceasing grip.

  Gaston turned his attention to the last fellow, a short, thick man who’d clearly spent the majority of his life at sea. His face was craggy and deeply lined by years of exposure to the elements, and he blew smoke rings with every puff he took from his pipe.

  “May I present Captain Pugwash, captain of the Greed of Hades?” Appling asked, though it really wasn’t a question.

  “Aye.” Gaston surveyed the last man. Much rougher than the other two men, Pugwash had the air of a salty sea captain who had brought himself up in the ranks with guts and toughness. Though he stood a good two feet shorter than Gaston, he had a compact, muscular build usually indicative of a powerful fighter. He’d bet even money Pugwash could wax the floor with all of them. This was the kind of pirate Gaston wanted, no needed on his side.

  Gaston shook the man’s hand. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Pugwash.”

  Nearly cutting off Gaston’s circulation with his grip, Pugwash squinted and made a grimace. “What ‘appened to your eye there Galette?” He pointed at Gaston’s eye patch.

  “Splinter,” Gaston said.

  “Aye, them’s the devil, ain’t they? Had one in me shoulder once.” Pugwash shook his head.

  Things were going well so far. Commiserating over battle wounds was a good sign.

  In the center of the room, Appling gestured to a table set with four chairs. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

  The three captains all looked up in alarm at the sound of the door closing and the sight of Hatch standing with his back to it, as though guarding against their exit.

  “I say, Galette, the meeting was supposed to be the four of us. Who, pray tell, is that?” Appling asked, irritation seeping from his voice.

  “There are three of you and only one of me. Surely you don’t mind if my man Hatch stays. Shall we say it levels the playing field a bit?” Gaston waved the concern away with his hand and flashed his most charming don’t-mind-us smile.

  “You’re sure he’s trustworthy?” Chatham asked, staring at the huge, black-skinned man cautiously.

  Gaston waved a hand in the air. “Perfectly. Hatch is harmless.” Staring pointedly at Chatham, he continued, “Surely you don’t begrudge me the opportunity to guard my own safety.” He shrugged. “And yours.”

  Chatham’s brow furrowed and he bowed his head formally. “Certainly Captain Galette. I would have it no other way.”

  Gaston sat back in his chair and took a sip from the ale before them. The other men tipped their mugs, and Appling proposed a toast that they come to an agreement that would benefit all parties.

  There were “ayes” all around and they settled into their discussion.

  Gaston had vetted these men extensively prior to setting up the meeting. Since they’d agreed to come, he hoped they would be agreeable and considered this meeting a venue for ironing out the details of their alliance.

  Chatham lacked the experience the other captains had, but he had a strong relationship with Governor Whitehurst in Port Royale and he carried letters of mark from the English government for certain logging jobs which could come in handy if they ever ran into legal trouble. Pugwash had a large ship and strong leadership qualities, not to mention an experienced crew. Appling was a former military captain for the British Navy, and Chatham had served under him. Appling’s reputation for shrewd battle tactics preceded him, and the fact that Chatham had risen so high for his age indicated he was a talented seaman himself.

  Gaston knew that although Pugwash and himself might appear to be polar opposites, they shared more common ground than one might think. They’d seen the horrors of battles at sea, and they both knew how to steer not only their vessels, but also the hearts and minds of their men. A firm respect between the two began to form as they drank their ale and worked through the details of their agreement.

  The other three captains wanted treasure, and Gaston Galette had a reputation in the Caribbean for being able to nose out the best hauls from those deep, dark waters. Tales of the booty he’d captured spread far and wide. By the time the stories got back to him they were often wildly exaggerated, but Gaston never corrected the inaccuracies. It would harm his vanity too much to do so.

  After several hours, the four ratified an agreement. They would sail together and split whatever was plundered four ways. Gaston marveled at how people often thought pirates were greedy, yet when it came to divvying up treasure, no one was more scrupulous than a band of pirates.

  The plan was for them to set sail in approximately one week’s time for the Windward Passage. Gaston had received information from a trusted source that a cache of jewels and doubloons had been stolen from a Spanish warship and was now buried on a small island south of Tortuga, and he already felt lighter at the thought of having a larger fleet accompanying the Ocean’s Knave.

  With their business completed, Gaston straightened the lapels of his jacket and stood up. As he was about to leave, Pugwash spoke up in his gravelly voice, “Ave heard you travel with a girl, Galette. Is this true?”

  Warily, Gaston answered, “I do not see how that is any of your business.”

  “They say that she holds the purse strings. I’d say that’s plenty of our business when yer doin’ business with us. What say ye to this?”

  Flumoxed, Gaston sputtered, “Why, that is preposterous. Miss Beauchamp is merely a companion, and a surprisingly accomplished swordswoman I might add.” Gaston says.

  “I’m sure she is quite talented.” Pugwash chuckled. “With a sword.” The other two men snickered.

  “They say you are besotted, Captain,” Chatham adding.

  “Again, what concern is it of yours?” Gaston frowned.

  “I believe, Captain Galette, that we feel uneasy about going into an agreement with a woman we don’t know. If it is, as they say, that she controls the dealings on the Ocean’s Knave,” Appling said.

  “This is outrageous! Why would you then agree to all that you have in the past few hours, if you had such reservations?” Gaston’s heart rate had increased tenfold in the last two minutes.

  Appling shrugged. “It is a delicate, yet troubling matter.”

  Gaston’s anxiety level rose as he felt their deal slipping away, and he sat heavily back into his seat.

  “Perhaps we should be ‘avin’ this meeting with the little lady,” Pugwash laughed.

  The three captains looked at each other then back at Gaston, barely concealing their laughter.

  “See here, I don’t see what affair it is of yours whom I choose to crew my ship. I have no intention of manning yours for you,” Gaston said with a sniff.

  “Well, Capt’n Galette, we’ve heard you run around behind Miss Beauchamp carrying her skirts for her. It is unnerving to go into protectin’ some pantywaist, lovesick fool,” Pugwash continued.

  Gaston banged his fist down on the table. “Enough! How dare you speak of something you know nothing about? I will have you know that while I have the utmost regard for Miss Beauchamp, she is my ward and she does as I command.”

  The smiles drained from the other men’s faces.

  “If any of the three of you would like to pay her a visit, I will gladly arrange it.” Gaston gathered his composure and adjusted the lapels on his jacket.

  “You’re sayin’ we might ‘ave a turn with her?” Pugwash asked. He turned to the Appling and Chatham. “I’ve ‘eard she’s quite a beauty.”

  Appling and Chatham’s eyes lit up.

  Appling eyed Gaston. “You would share her with us?”

  “Can you treat her with the respect a fine woman like herself deserves? I will not have her harmed or humiliated.”

  Appling nodded his assent. “I give you my word, Galette. We are not animals.”

  Gaston surveyed the three men, and to his dismay he believed them. Appling and Chatham had the reputation for being men of their word. Pugwash was the wildcard, but he intended on trusting
the man with his life and his treasure. Hatch would ensure that Pugwash would do no worse to Frederica than he did with any woman he bedded.

  “A one-time interlude, to prove to you that Miss Beauchamp does my bidding, not the other way around. After that, you will agree to drop the matter?”

  The men nodded in agreement.

  “My man Hatch will be in attendance, of course.” Gaston nodded his head curtly in Hatch’s direction.

  “Wait a moment, we have no need for his presence,” Chatham protested, eyeing the surly maroon standing silently in the corner. Gaston smiled inwardly at Chatham’s obvious and justifiable fear.

  “Ah, but I do. Miss Beauchamp is a valuable asset of mine, and it is imperative no harm comes to her. Consider his presence my insurance policy.”

  “So you’re saying she’s your slave,” Appling said.

  Gaston touched his index finger to his chin, considering the question. Raising a brow he replied, “I assert that the exact nature of my relationship with Miss Beauchamp is not your affair.” He paused. “But yes, something like that.”

  Standing, Gaston signaled to Hatch. “I will make the arrangements. Good day gentlemen.” He clapped Appling on the shoulder and exited the building.

  He should have enjoyed watching Hatch give the men a menacing glance out of the corner of his eye, but he was occupied trying to determine how he was going to tell Frederica that in order for them to have the protection they so desperately needed he’d had to give her to three men for an evening.

  Chapter Five

  Having grown bored waiting for Gaston at the ship, Frederica came ashore to wait for Gaston in the village. While she realized the meeting was “men’s business,” she had little patience for being left behind. She’d found a shady spot outside the Lucky Sloop on a stone wall. Resting there, under a canopy of palm trees, she felt something brush against her ankles.

  Accustomed to the rats on the Ocean’s Knave, she drew her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest. Upon further investigation, however, she saw it wasn’t a rat, but rather a skinny white cat, and she set her feet back on the ground. The kitty nuzzled against her skirts then slid up under them making a pattern similar to the numeral eight around her legs. The animal purred, and Frederica bent down to touch him, her fingers luxuriating in the cat’s soft, white fur. His coat was matted in a few places, but for the most part he seemed to have maintained himself quite well considering his malnourished state.

  She determined the cat was not going to bite her, so she picked him up and set him in her lap. He was even lighter than she’d expected, and he erupted into a steady stream of rolling purrs as she stroked his back.

  “Poor kitty. Someone needs to feed you,” she told him. “You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.” The cat was small in size, his jagged ribs poking out his sides making painful-looking angles. His big, blue eyes reminded her of her own, light in color and almost transparent in appearance. The cat seemed young—older than a kitten, but it was difficult to determine his age as his small size might be attributed to his lack of food rather than his age.

  A door creaked open behind her and she heard Gaston’s voice. Tucking the cat under her arm, she strolled toward him. “Gaston!” she called, waving to him.

  Gaston frowned at her then turned and looked toward the building from which he’d just emerged. There was nothing behind him, so what was he looking at?

  “Frederica, what are you doing here?” he asked through clenched teeth. Hurrying toward her he wrapped an arm around her and shuttled her away from the inn.

  “I got bored so I thought I would find you and perhaps we could go shopping. I desperately need a new pair of…”

  The sounds of several men coming out of the inn interrupted her. They were boisterous and loud, not like drunken soldiers, but the way powerful men sounded when they got together. There was an air of leadership about them, and sensing she was in the presence of important men, she turned to see who was making all of the ruckus.

  “My, my. Galette!” The short, heavyset man shouted to Gaston.

  Frederica looked from the man to Gaston. Were these the other captains with whom Gaston had recently met?

  Gaston stopped abruptly and whirled to face the men.

  “Is that her?” the tall lanky man asked. He wore a three-cornered hat and looked to be about Frederica’s age.

  “Aye, tis me beauty,” Gaston said, and she felt him take a deep breath. He continued, “Gentlemen, allow me to present Mademoiselle Beauchamp.” He bowed and turned to her. “Frederica these are the captains I met with earlier. Captain Pugwash,” he indicated the shorter man, “Captain Edward Chatham,” the tall man nodded to her, “and Captain Miles Appling, formerly of the British Navy.”

  Frederica noticed Appling for the first time. He was stunningly handsome with his golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, and winsome smile. When their eyes connected her heart skipped a beat.

  Proffering her hand for them to kiss, she crooned, “Pleased to make your acquaintance gentlemen.” She and her mates needed these men’s protection, and she was determined to make a good impression on them. It wouldn’t hurt to flirt with them, for if there were any way she could help secure their loyalty to the cause of the Ocean’s Knave she would do it.

  Pugwash’s eyes drifted from her chest all the way down to her feet and back up again, settling on her face. He nodded. “You too, lass,” he said, not bothering to hide the lust in his gaze.

  Chatham, on the other hand, shifted his weight from his left to his right and back again. He removed his hat, kissed her hand, and said, “Pleasure milady.” all the while avoiding her eyes. So he was a shy one. Perhaps in his line of work he was unaccustomed to meeting young ladies.

  Frederica favored both men with a coy smile, and then turned to face Captain Appling.

  In one graceful sweep, Appling removed his hat and lifted Frederica’s hand to his lips. “It is not every day that seamen like ourselves have the opportunity to bask in beauty such as yours, Miss Beauchamp. You honor us with your presence.”

  She thought she heard Gaston choking behind her, but when she turned to look he only shook his head and tugged at his collar. The temperature was warm, but he seemed more affected by the heat than usual.

  Not wanting to be rude she turned her attention back to Captain Appling. “Why thank you. You are so kind. I trust that you gentlemen had a productive meeting.” Her eyes moved over each of them. Pugwash’s unabashed leering and Chatham’s shyness were reactions she frequently got from men. She lived in a man’s world, and she’d learned to make accommodations for how men responded to her.

  But she saw something different in the eyes of Miles Appling. Curiosity. The man seemed interested in her. Not her breasts or what was between her legs. He seemed to notice her as a person, separate from her beauty. She found him intriguing as well.

  “We most certainly did, and we look forward to a mutually beneficial partnership with the Ocean’s Knave.” Appling nodded toward Gaston who gave him a curt drop of the chin.

  “Yes, well come along Frederica,” said Gaston and took her by the elbow which was when he noticed the cat. “What in heaven’s name is that?” he snapped.

  “Oh, it’s a kitty. He’s terribly hungry. I was just sitting over there waiting for you and he found me. He’s darling, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked Gaston.

  “I wouldn’t say anything of the sort,” Gaston grumbled.

  “May I?” Captain Appling asked, reaching for her feline friend.

  “You may,” Frederica beamed at him, appreciative of his interest in the poor creature.

  Appling held the cat in one large hand while examining him with the other. “He is rather starved. A stray most likely, probably been scrounging for scraps behind the inn.”

  “The poor thing,” Frederica said taking the cat back from Appling. He patted the kitty on the head and the animal began to purr loudly causing Frederica and Appling to laugh at the same time.
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br />   “That’s enough, Frederica. It’s time to go,” Gaston said gruffly. “Gentlemen, we bid you good day.” Gaston lifted his plumed hat with a flourish, gripped Frederica’s arm, and marched her away.

  “Goodbye!” Frederica called over her shoulder and the men bid her farewell.

  “Set that wretched animal down, Freddie,” Gaston barked when they were out of earshot of the other captains.

  “What? No! I’m going to keep him.” Frederica stomped her foot and wriggled away from his grasp.

  “You will do no such thing. We live aboard a pirate ship, not in a house on land.” He caught up with her.

  “That is of no consequence. We have cats on board the Ocean’s Knave. Why not have another one?” She gave him her prettiest pout, hoping to persuade him.

  “We have a cat, singular. Slash is a great mouser. I’m sure that scrawny thing would make a sorry excuse for a hunter. In any case he looks half dead as it is.”

  “Master, you’re being unkind, both to me and to this poor creature. It’s not like you to be so heartless.”

  “Heartless?” he pondered. “Hardly. Now set the thing down and come back to the ship. There’s something we need to discuss.”

  “But Gaston…” she pleaded.

  “Set him down,” he said firmly. Whatever was on his mind was clearly troubling him.

  She hesitated.

  “Now!” he barked. “I do not want to have to punish you for disobedience.”

  She could tell by the look in his eye that he meant what he said, and her bottom lip quivered. “A moment. Please give me a moment to tell him goodbye.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  Frederica rubbed the little cat’s ears and whispered to him, “I’m sorry I must leave you here. It has been a pleasure knowing you, kitty.” With a small sob she set him on the ground and turned her back to him so she could walk away.