Passion's Tide

by Sarah West

  Noah cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving Amber alone with Eli.

  “Well, at least the food was good,” Eli said, for lack of a better response to the evening’s awkwardness.

  “It was delicious,” she replied with a smile. “Though was it necessary to point out that he had dribbled some broth on his shirt? I was afraid he was going to throw the bowl at your head. I think you got off lucky with a glare.”

  Eli chuckled. “Logan’s biggest problem, in my opinion, has always been his inability to lighten up. I’ve taken it on as my responsibility to tease him mercilessly, in the hope that one day he will realize that life isn’t as dire as he makes it out to be.”

  A silence fell over them as they contemplated this. It was Amber who finally spoke. “How long until we reach Tortuga?”

  “I would say about two weeks, maybe a little more. We are at the mercy of the weather.”

  “And the temperature?”

  “It’ll warm up in a few days as we travel farther south. Then you won’t be stuck inside the cabin as much, and you’ll be able to enjoy the Caribbean sun.” He stood and walked to the dresser where the maps had been rolled up before dinner, selected one and spread it out on the table. “We are around here,” he said, pointing to a spot in the Atlantic near the coast of Connecticut. “In about a week and a half we will stop in the Bahamas to leave Lyle, then continue down to Northwest coast of Haiti, where Tortuga lies.”

  “I’ve only heard a little about Tortuga, and none of it very pleasant. Does it live up to its reputation?”

  Eli rolled up the map and grabbed a handful of grapes from the bowl that was set out after dinner. “I’m sure many of the stories are exaggerated,” he said as he popped one in his mouth. “But to answer your question, yes. It has a long history of violence and is considered a stronghold for pirates because it is easily defensible. There is talk that it won’t be used for much longer as the French outlawed piracy a while ago. But for now, we retain control and they have yet to breach our defenses.”

  “And it is truly filled with debauchery? Taverns and wenches?” The smile that crossed his face then could only be described as fondly reminiscent. Amber laughed. “I take that as a hearty yes, then. I must say I’m curious to see it!”

  He sobered. “Tortuga is no place for a lady. I doubt Logan will let you set foot off this ship when we land.” She pouted. “That reminds me, what on earth were you doing on the Queen Charlotte?”

  “Trying to get to England as expediently as possible,” she said with a shrug.

  “Not enough of an explanation, dear. There has to be more to the story than that.”

  “My mother…” she searched for the strength to say the words out loud. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “My mother passed away last week.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand for a brief second, urging her to continue. She struggled to find a way to explain her predicament without giving away too much information. “Her dying wish was that I go to England and live with my father’s family.”

  “Do you want to live in England?” he interrupted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, it seems to me that you are old enough to choose where you want to live. If you want to go stay with your father’s family, then do it. But if you wanted to stay in the colonies, you should have. You’re laughing at me. Why are you laughing at me?”

  “You really think I have a choice in the matter? I’m a woman! My life is decided for me, it always has been, and always will be.”

  Eli stared at her incredulously. “But you seem so independent, I thought—”

  “My mother raised me to think for myself and express my opinions. But surely you realize that I am an oddity among the fairer sex?”

  “Well, yes. I can’t say I’ve ever met a woman like you.”

  “Exactly. Despite how independent I might be, a female is forever under the control of her parents or husband. Or, in my case, my uncle.” She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “I wish I had been born a boy. Things would be so much easier.”

  Eli looked appalled. “You would make a terrible boy!”

  “Why would you say that?” Amber asked him, taking offense to his statement.

  “I should think it would be obvious. You’re far too pretty to be a boy,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and failing. She smiled back at him.

  “That sounds like something my mother would say to me. I think she would have liked you,” she told him, her voice breaking.

  Eli hesitated before walking around the table to take her into his arms. “I’m sorry about your mother. She must have been an incredible woman,” he said as she allowed herself to lean against his shoulder, fighting back tears. His hands stroked her back, calming her.

  Suddenly a gust of wind rushed into the room as the door was opened and shut. Amber lifted her head to see Logan stomp over to his trunk, throw open the lid and retrieve a pair of wool mittens. His face was twisted in an expression of anger, and before he stormed out Amber heard him mutter what sounded like “hypocrite” under his breath.

  The whole incident took no more than thirty seconds. As Amber pulled away from Eli’s embrace, she peered up into his face. “Is he always like that?” To her surprise he began laughing.

  “I wouldn’t typically describe Logan as an angry individual, but recently something has been pushing his buttons.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “That something has been you. He’s not used to such a worthy opponent, especially a woman. He’s a very generous, caring man, but he is also stubborn and has a strong temper. Something about you just brings out the worst in him.”

  She sat down on the large bed and tucked her feet beneath her. “I’ve noticed.”

  “I suppose it’s hard not to. It’s a shame you two don’t get along.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you are more alike than you may think, or even want to admit to yourself. He’s not used to such a strong-willed female, but I know for certain that he feels terrible about putting you in this position.” He stood and walked over to the door, throwing on his jacket. “I know I don’t provide a good example, but maybe you should take it easy on him.”

  With that he left, leaving Amber to think about his words. She sat on Logan’s bed deliberating for a few minutes, then, reaching a decision, pulled herself to her feet.

  The clothes Logan had washed that afternoon had been rung out and hung over the rafters to dry. Feeling the arm of a shirt, she deemed them dry enough and began folding them in neat piles on the table. It took her less than a half an hour, but when she was done she felt she had made an effort to bridge the cavernous gap between them.

  As a final offering of truce, she set out some blankets for him near the spot where he would put the hammock. Then she changed into her nightgown and settled beneath the blankets with her book to wait for his return.

  She must have fallen asleep, though, for when she awoke the sun was up and Logan was nowhere to be seen. The piles of clothes had been put away and the blankets she had laid out for him were folded and placed on the trunk at the foot of the bed. She chastised herself for not being able to stay awake long enough for him to go to bed, to voice her desire to stop fighting.

  She was reaching for a clean dress when she saw the books on the table, and with curiosity she approached them and picked up the one on the top. It felt heavy in her hands as she turned it to read the cover. “Plato’s Republic” was printed in faded gold lettering, and as she ran her fingers lightly over the embossed words she felt a shock of pleasure travel down the length of her body. Such a beautiful book must have been expensive, and Amber couldn’t wait to read it.

  It seemed a truce had been called.

  Eli had been right; once Amber and Logan made an effort not to aggravate each other, they actually got along. When she found him on deck to thank him for the book, he met her gaze and gave her a warm smile.

  “You’re welcome.”


  The remainder of the day passed without incident, as did the rest of the week. As they traveled farther south it continued to get warmer, and Amber began bringing her books outside to sit near the bow, letting herself get lost for hours in the stories. At other times she would just lean over the railing and enjoy the sun radiating down and heating up her back. Occasionally Logan or Eli would join her, and they would either converse or sit in amiable silence, both of which suited her.

  At night she ate dinner in Logan’s cabin along with the other men, and then bathed in the large tub in the corner of the room. More often than not Logan sat at the table reading his own books or examining a map while she relaxed in the hot water, her naked form shielded from his view by a curtain of blankets that he had strung for her privacy. Once she was dry and dressed, they switched places.

  One night, as she listened to him splashing in the tub while she brushed her long curls, she asked him why he never bathed before her. He appeared from behind the sheet then, a pair of breeches hanging low on his taut hipbones, running a towel through his wet hair. With a laugh he told her that in the course of a single day he became so filthy that if Amber used his water she would come out dirtier than she had gone in.

  She had to admit to herself that it was a plausible explanation, for she often watched him as he went about his duties on the ship, and he was always busy. Earlier that afternoon for example, she observed as he stripped off his shirt and practiced sword fighting with his men. Her book forgotten on her lap, she was drawn to the sight of him. The glistening muscles of his back and shoulders that rippled as he moved. The laugh in his throat and the smile on his lips. The dark hair scattered across his chest, tapering down to a fine trail that lead down his abdomen, accentuating his lean stomach, and pulling her gaze further down to the front of his pants…

  She shook the haunting image from her head, then shut her book and stood. “I think I’ll turn in early,” she explained.

  Logan nodded and watched while she crawled beneath the covers, turned her back to him, and fell asleep.

  Alone with his thoughts, he groaned and pulled his hair back from his face. As much as he hated to admit it, Amber had unknowingly proven to him that she was intelligent and charming, not to mention attractive as hell. He struggled every day to keep his conversation civil, to keep himself from saying something that would cause her adorable temper to flair, to keep his hands off of her. It was getting harder, especially because he was aware that if she had any idea of what he was planning to do to her, she would never forgive him.

  On their thirteenth day at sea, Amber opened the door to the cabin and had to lift a hand to her eyes to shield her gaze from the blinding sunlight. Making her way across the deck, she found Logan, Eli and Jean examining a large map that had been laid across a crate. As she approached further she noticed a piece of parchment, scribbled with words she couldn’t read. Hearing her footsteps Logan hastily rolled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket, then closed the distance between them.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded in response, trying to peer around him. “What are you doing?”

  “Just making some last minute adjustments,” he told her as he took her by the arm and led her towards the galley. “We located a suitable island on which to abandon Lyle early this morning, and rather than take our chances in finding another one further in the Bahamas, we rowed him ashore and left him there. Now we’ve changed our course slightly, and so should reach Tortuga in two days time. Scone?” he offered, and she took the pastry with a frown. “Did I say something to upset you?”

  She shrugged, and with an embarrassed smile responded, “It’s nothing, really. I’m glad Lyle is gone, he made me uncomfortable and I don’t doubt he deserved his punishment. But I was hoping to go ashore for a little bit…” her voice trailed off.

  “Well, it’s your lucky day then, because we need to stop off at another nearby island to get some more fresh water. Would you like to help us gather fruit?” Her face lit up, and he held back a grimace as guilt washed over him. He instead told her to go change into a lighter dress, and to meet him on the starboard side near the longboat. She scampered off, and he looked down at the unfinished scone she had left behind, picked it up, and crushed it in his hand. The crumbs fell to the floor, forgotten as Logan stormed from the deck.

  Amber sat at the front of the small boat as Pax and Deacon rowed, her arm flung over the side, embracing the feel of the warm water racing between her fingers. Colorful fish darted from under the shadow of the boat as it passed above them, and a sea turtle swam languidly beside them for a hundred yards or so before turning and gliding back in the other direction.

  The boat scraped against the sand then, and too eager to wait any longer, Amber kicked off her shoes and lifted her skirts, jumped over the side and began wading towards the beach. Henry and Johnny followed her.

  The white sand warmed her feet as she ran out of the water. The young boys watched her with bemusement as she knelt down and began sifting through the sand, inspecting every shell that she found, tossing away the flawed ones and making a pile of the perfect ones. She stopped when she heard Deacon clearing his throat.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Amber, but Logan instructed us to help you find some fruit. It looks like there are some coconut trees just at the top of the hill over there. Why don’t you go collect a bunch, while we finish pulling the boat out of the water? Johnny and Henry will come with you.”

  With a nod, she picked up the hem of her skirt and lifted it to her waist, making a basket out of the yellow fabric. She relocated her shells into this pouch, and then headed farther up the beach to where Deacon had pointed out a grove of coconut trees. Henry bent down and picked up one of the large fruits, but dropped it hastily when Johnny warned him that it was rotten and most likely infected with bugs.

  “The ripe ones are scattered closer to the base of the trunk, but the green ones up in the tree will keep for longer. You want me to climb up and shake ‘em lose?”

  Amber looked up the length of the tree, contemplated the probability that she would be able to shimmy her way up in a dress. Though she had been an avid tree climber as a child, the trees at home had more branches for her to pull herself up, and she always did it in her shift. “Go ahead Johnny, but try not to fall.” He rolled his eyes and scaled the trunk in less than a minute.

  “Watch out!” he called down to them as he began shaking the large palm fronds with vigor. Amber leapt aside as one crashed to her feet, then scooped it up and deposited it in her skirt. In minutes her makeshift apron was filled to the top with coconuts.

  She turned to call Pax and Deacon to help her carry them back to the boat, but they were gone. Coconuts and shells tumbled from her skirt as she ran down to the shore. She saw the two men rowing the longboat back towards the ship, ignoring her when she called out for them to stop, though Pax glanced back at her. She couldn’t read his expression from this distance, but she imagined the slimy rat felt guilty for stranding her on a deserted island with the two boys.

  Anger was replaced quickly with fear as she watched the pirates secure the longboat to the side of the ship, then raise anchor and begin sailing away from the island.

  “I wouldn’t worry, Miss,” came Henry’s soft voice from behind her.

  She spun around and shot him a look that made him shrink back. “What do you mean don’t worry? They’ve left us to die here!”

  Johnny started laughing then. “He’s comin’ back!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Cap’n wanted me to tell you to sit tight for a few hours while they took care of some business, and that he’d be back for us as soon as they were done. Oh, and that he’s sorry.”

  The last bit of Amber’s control on her own anger vanished. “Sorry? He’s sorry?” Even Johnny backed away from her at this point. “What the bloody hell could be so important that he thought abandoning me was a good idea?”

  Henry looked torn between wanting t
o approach her to comfort her, and at the same time wanting to stay out of range of her arms, which were swinging wildly as she yelled at them. He chose to stay where he was. “He told us that had heard of another ship hiding in those caves over there,” he said, pointing to the island next to theirs, about three miles away. “He told us it wasn’t safe for you to stay on board while they found and captured it.” Her anger dissipated, but only a little.

  “Well, then why couldn’t he just tell me?”

  “Would you have listened to him, even if he had?” Johnny asked her with a smirk. She thought about it, and shrugged.

  “Probably not. But it still doesn’t excuse what he did!” She dropped down to the sand, sitting cross-legged with her arms folded.

  “What are you doing now?” Henry inquired.

  “Waiting,” was her curt reply. The two boys looked at each other, then back at her, and then left to go hunt for more fruit. She was determined to sit and wait for that coward Logan to return, but the heat of the sun made her drowsy. She was nodding off to sleep when an ear-splitting shot rang through the air, reverberating off of the mountains behind them and echoing loudly. “What was that?” she called up the beach to the boys.

  “I’m assuming they just found the other ship,” Johnny responded from the lush canopy of a tree, then went back to throwing mangoes down to Henry. Her heart began pounding and she jumped to her feet, trying to see beyond the trees that blocked her view of the caves where the noise of the fight resounded. Looking around her, she picked up her skirts and began running towards the direction of the noise, stopping short in her tracks as she came to the crest of a hill.

  The Imperial Shadow was standing in the shallows of the bay, portside facing the smaller schooner that was obviously caught off guard and racing to prepare their cannons to return volley. The first of their guns fired, ripping a hole in the Shadow’s main topsail.

  But the regal frigate had more guns and the added advantage of surprise, and the battle was over quickly. A well-aimed cannonball took down the schooner’s foremast, the fallen rigging and sails creating enough chaos on deck to distract the crew from noticing as Logan scaled the side of their ship with a boarding axe. The crewmembers turned around to find him standing with a pistol to their Captain’s throat, and they didn’t hesitate to drop their own weapons. By this time, fifteen more of Logan’s men had climbed onto the ship, their weapons trained on their captives.