Passion's Tide

by Sarah West

“Because,” said Ken, “we don’t have a boat.” Amber gasped as he pulled a wicked looking blade from his waistband and held it up to her face, the moonlight reflecting off the jagged edges of the rusty metal.

  Her eyes widened and she screamed, but was silenced as his dirty hand covered her mouth. She immediately bit down and was met with a satisfactory howl as he pulled away from her. Lewis raised his hand and slapped her square on the cheek, leaving her red-faced and seething with anger. “Oi, are you all right?” he asked his friend, who was glaring at Amber as he cradled his hand to his chest.

  “The bitch broke the skin! I’m bleeding.” He raised his injured hand as evidence.

  “Touch me again and you’ll get more than that,” she spat at them, but was silenced as another hand connected with her face.

  “Bring ‘er in here,” Ken said, gesturing towards a darkened alley between two run-down buildings. Amber struggled to break free of the hands that dragged her from the street, but was no match for the taller, stronger man. Her face stinging, she was pushed up against a wall.

  “Let’s see how feisty she is when we’re done with ‘er. Hold her down.” A pair of arms circled her chest, pining her arms to her side and rendering her incapable of moving her upper body.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she threatened, as Ken approached her with his knife extended, wearing a vicious sneer.

  “Or what?” She didn’t answer, but instead struck out with her foot to kick him as hard as she could, not anticipating that he was waiting for her to lash out. With surprising quickness he grabbed her ankle before she made contact with his leg, then lowered the knife to her skirt. She closed her eyes, wincing as she heard the tearing of fabric and felt the warm breeze against her calves.

  He tossed the cloth aside and approached her again, this time with the knife directed at her exposed throat. Instead of going for the skin, however, he slit the strap of her chemise and watched with a hungry grin as it fell forward to reveal the top part of her breast.

  She whimpered, and the man who held her immobile laughed, his sticky breath washing over the side of her face. The knife was about to slice through the other strap when a voice rang out.

  “Let her go. Now.” Amber jerked her head towards the noise, relief washing over her as she saw Logan approaching the Irishman, who at this point had turned from his captive towards the intruder.

  “What if I don’t, eh? What are you gunna do about it then?”

  Logan took another step forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his cutlass. “I’d have to kill you.”

  “I’d like to see you try, old man,” he barked with an ugly laugh, preparing himself to fight.

  “Fair enough,” Logan said with a shrug. Then he lashed out in a blur of movement that Amber’s untrained eyes had trouble discerning. What she saw next was Ken crumpled on the ground with a blade in his side, blood pooling around his motionless body. Amber fought back the bile that rose in her throat.

  The man who was still holding her reached for his knife, but before he could pull it out, Logan had his pistol cocked and aimed. “Drop it.” The dagger fell to the ground. “Now let her go, and get the hell out of here. If I ever see you again you’ll wind up like your friend, you got that?” With a hasty nod, the man pushed Amber from his grasp and ran from the alley.

  Caught off guard, her momentum carried her forward and before she knew it she was in Logan’s arms. She never imagined that she would find comfort in the embrace of a pirate, but as his hands began to stroke her back reassuringly, she felt her body begin to relax. Logan held her tight against him until he felt her shaking subside.

  “Are you all right?” She responded with a small nod, one he felt rather than saw, as her head was pressed against his chest. “Are you sure?” She pulled back long enough to wipe a tear from her eye and give him a weak smile.

  “No, but I’ll recover. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, what the hell are you doing here?” The smile left her face in response to the icy chill in his words, and she took a step backwards.

  “I…I’m s-s-sorry, I was…” she faltered as his eyes turned a darker shade of grey and bore into hers. “I only thought—”

  He cut her off. “No, you weren’t thinking. What other possible explanation can there be for your bloody naiveté?” He continued to walk towards her, each forward step of his met with a step backward from her. “Did you really expect that I wouldn’t notice you had left? And if I had, did you assume I would just let you go?”

  Amber gasped as the back of her legs hit something, her face paling as she realized it was the body of her attacker. Still trying to put as much space between Logan and herself, she tried to step over the corpse, but slipped on the blood.

  Logan’s hand was there around her waist to steady her, and as he pulled her to her feet, he saw the hurt in her eyes as she clutched her ripped chemise to her chest. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his jacket and wordlessly threw it over her shoulders, then ran his hand through his hair and moved to peer into the street.

  “You’re bleeding again.”

  “What?” He turned back to her, and then glanced quickly at his left arm, where the fabric of his shirt had been ripped and was now mottled with the crimson stain of his blood. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.” Even as he said it, however, it began throbbing. He held back a grimace.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” He held up a hand to silence her as a group of drunken sailors stumbled past the dark alley, beckoning her forward when their voices grew quiet again. Giving the dead body one last spiteful glance, she picked up her skirts and slid beside him.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, but was met by silence. “Where are going?” she tried again.

  Logan rolled his eyes and whispered back, “To the White Margate Inn. Come on.” After readjusting his cutlass and pistol in the leather baldric that he wore over his right shoulder, he stepped into the street. He glanced into the night, flinching when he felt a small hand slide into his. Looking down, he saw Amber giving him a weak smile that did little to hide her anxiety. The icy grip around his heart melted a bit and he tried to return her smile, giving her hand a quick squeeze before leading her in the direction of the marina.

  His legs were longer than hers, and soon she felt herself struggling to keep up with his long strides while maintaining some semblance of modesty, by clutching what little clothing she had left on her shivering body. But she was determined not to complain or burden him further, and so she stayed silent and tried not to lag behind.

  On they went, keeping to the shadows as much as possible and avoiding attention. The streets this far from the harbor were deserted except for the occasional prostitute or drunken sailor. The houses that lined the street were dark and dilapidated. Amber took them all to be empty until she saw the glow of a candle glittering behind the dirty glass of a window. The eyes of a small child stared back out at her, then retreated into the blackness. The light flickered out.

  “Where is everyone?” she whispered to Logan as he stopped to peer around a corner.

  He glanced back at her. “The few villagers that haven’t left the island remain inland during the night. Behind closed doors, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.”

  “Well, why?”

  “It’s not safe for them to wander the streets while the rogues roam about, looking for trouble.”

  “Rogues roam, I like that. Are you a roaming rogue?”

  He returned her smile. “The worst kind. Now hush, we’re approaching the harbor, and I want to get to the inn unscathed. So to speak,” he added, brushing his finger across the welt on her cheek. “Ready?”

  Her face burned where his hand rested, though his touch was light. She swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

  He untied a black scarf from around his waist. “Cover your hair,” he instructed, handing her the strip of cloth and waiting until she had tucked her braid into it and tied it around her head. �
�Keep your head down, don’t look at anyone, and stay by my side. If anyone talks to you, don’t respond.”

  Amber crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her gaze to the ground, allowing herself to be steered by the gentle hand on her back. She could see the dark forms of men lining the street, emerging from taverns and brothels. Several called out to her, others shouted obscenities.

  “Ignore them and keep walking,” Logan whispered as his arm wrapped around her more protectively. “It’s not much further,” he promised as he turned and led her down a side street. She said nothing, but breathed a sigh of relief that now there were fewer people loitering about. She was starting to believe that they would reach the inn safely, when Logan held up his hand for her to stop. She looked up at him in confusion, but he only stood there, listening.

  She strained her ears for the source of his distraction, and finally made out the sound of two male voices coming from a shadowy house across the street. They appeared to be laughing, and Amber saw a large figure cross in front of the open window.

  She stifled a gasp as Logan grabbed her and pulled her into a darkened doorway, then pressed her body against the frame. Curious to see who was coming out of the house, she attempted to see over his broad shoulders, but he effectively blocked her view and hid her from the men who now stood in the street, talking. Resigned, she turned her attention back to Logan, whose hard body was aligned with hers, his face only inches away. His eyes were focused on her, but she knew that he was listening to every word the men were saying.

  Their conversation was banal, and coming to a close. The men were about to go their separate ways, when one of them spoke. “I forgot to tell you, Miguel, one of my men swears that he saw the Imperial Shadow today just outside of the harbor.” There was silence from Miguel, and the speaker let out a nervous laugh. “Of course, I told him he must be mistaken, for there is no way that el Tigre would dare show his ugly face on your island again after last time.” Amber’s pulse picked up upon hearing the name of Logan’s ship, and she had lifted her gaze from his chest to look at him. He remained stoic as usual, but his eyes had darkened considerably, the tight expression on his face evidence enough that he was listening as well, and was bothered by what he had heard.

  “What man of yours saw the ship?” asked Miguel in a thick Spanish accent.

  “Ignacio. He was repairing a tear in the topsail when he saw it in the distance. By the time he had gotten my attention, it had gone.”

  “You will take me to this Ignacio. I will speak to him. And I will send my men out to look for el Tigre’s ship.”

  “And if you find it?”

  Miguel’s voice was cold when he spoke again. “Then I will make good on the promise I made to him when I gave him that scar on his back.”

  Amber wasn’t sure what promise Miguel had made Logan, but she was confident that it wouldn’t fare well for either of them should the Spanish pirate stumble upon them. The footsteps were drawing closer now, and she turned to Logan again in uncertainty, hoping he had a good plan.

  He responded by pressing his lips against hers.

  Chapter Ten

  Logan felt her gasp beneath his mouth, but he urgently pressed himself against her, relentless and ignoring the hands she balled up and used to push against his chest.

  He hadn’t intended to kiss her. His initial reaction upon hearing Alonso Miguel’s voice had been to push Amber into an empty house and draw his sword, put an end to the confrontation that had begun between them years ago. The one that left Logan with a large scar across his left shoulder blade and Miguel with a bullet wound in his thigh. Logan wondered if the physicians had been able to remove the lead ball, or if it was still lodged in his leg, a painful reminder of the fight he had picked with the younger, fitter pirate.

  But then Logan stopped to think about what would happen if Miguel somehow bested him this time around and then discovered Amber. As if a bucket of ice-water had been poured over his head, he was chilled by the images he conjured up of Amber being ravaged by the pirate, knowing full well that he would be less forgiving of her temper than the two boys he had stopped from hurting her earlier that evening. It was pure dumb luck that the now-deceased man and his friend had staged their attack right across the street from the dingy pub Logan had been in, and that he had heard her voice as he was exiting.

  Though he didn’t consider himself a religious man, he had thanked whoever was watching over her that she was unhurt.

  Back in the present, he wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her chin and tilting her head to allow him easier access to her full lips. Her fists had unclenched, and her fingers were now splayed across his wide chest. Her mouth opened under the insistent pressure of his, and taking advantage of her lowered guard, he ran his tongue along the outside edge of her teeth and then slid it inside her mouth.

  Her breath caught in her throat at the same moment the footsteps stopped right outside the doorway. Logan froze in panic, uttering a silent prayer that she wouldn’t slap him like the last time he had taken advantage of her when she wasn’t expecting it. Time seemed to stand still. Finally, and with obvious hesitation, her tongue touched his.

  Her innocence created a fire within him, and he deepened the kiss to a new level of urgency, spurned on by the moan he heard her utter as he possessed her mouth. Her hands slid to his back, then his shoulders, and Logan closed the space between them further, crushing her against him almost painfully. She took no notice.

  Nor did she take note of the voices of the men who watched them with amused interest. Logan heard them loud and clear, however, his heart pounding.

  “I think after I take you to Ignacio, I’m going to empty my pockets and buy myself a wench.”

  Miguel laughed, a harsh, biting sound. “Interested in a lush redhead?”

  “Yes, though I’d rather just have that one, she looks like she’d be feisty in bed. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Logan’s hand slid from Amber’s lower back to grip the hilt of his sword. She was thankfully oblivious, still caught up in the heat of his embrace.

  Miguel slapped his companion on the shoulder. “Come, I know of a bordello on Shore Street. I will recommend to you my favorite women. I might even pay for you to use one for the entire night.” The men continued to discuss the merits of whorehouses until their voices faded into silence. Logan pulled away from Amber, who stared up at him in a daze.

  “What was—” He cut her off by shaking his head and placing his hand over her mouth. His eyes bore into hers, then he removed his hand and stepped from the shadows to look down the street. Seeing no one, he returned to the alcove and found her pressing two fingers to her swollen lips thoughtfully.

  “They’re gone,” he said. She looked up.

  “Who were they?” Her voice was soft and hoarse, and Logan had the strongest urge to pull her back into his arms and kiss her senseless again. He restrained himself.

  “I didn’t recognize the shorter one, but the tall one with the accent was Alonso Miguel.” He checked to make sure his pistol was loaded–he didn’t dare risk a run-in with the Spaniard unarmed–and led her back into the street, setting a steady pace in the direction of the inn.

  “Is he another pirate?”

  “Yes, one famous for being cruel and relentless.” He stopped then, giving her the sign to be silent and nudging her into another darkened alley. She watched as he entered the open door of a well-lit house, and through the window she could see him talking to a young boy. The boy listened to Logan and nodded, before accepting some coins. He then left the house and sprinted down the street in the opposite direction of where they were headed.

  She waited until Logan came to get her. Anticipating the question that was poised on the tip of her tongue, he said, “I gave the boy some gold to follow Miguel, then report back to me at the inn.” She nodded and chewed on her lip, distracted. “Is everything all right?” he asked, lowering his head as they passed a group of sailors.

&nbs
p; “What? Oh, yes. Everything is fine. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Why did you kiss me?” His step faltered, and he glanced down at her face. The damn woman always knew how to catch him off guard. He waited until they arrived at the inn, then stopped her just outside the doorway.

  “Because I didn’t know what else to do. I reacted without thinking.” She nodded absently again. “Amber, look at me.” She did, and he cupped her chin in his hand. “I’m sorry if I surprised you. I couldn’t let them see my face, but even more than that I was trying to protect you. If they had gotten a good look at you, there’s no doubt in my mind that they would have murdered me just to get to you.” He smiled as his gaze raked her body. “Though I can hardly blame them. I had been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you tonight, wearing next to nothing.”

  Her face flushed and she raised a hand to strike him, but as always, he caught it before she could make contact with his face. He grabbed her other hand and backed her against the side of the house, raising her arms above her head and trapping her. “Besides,” he said gruffly, “I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it.”

  She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he dropped her hands and stepped inside the inn without giving her the chance to. She forced herself to breathe, but the exercise did little to calm her nerves. With an exasperated sigh she followed him, jumping back as the orange blur of a cat rushed in front of her feet.

  The White Margate Inn was small and crowded, but to her the group of people who sat around the tables and filled the air with their loud voices seemed considerably less threatening then many of the other men she had run into that night. She noticed scattered throughout the room in varying states of disguise were crewmembers from the Imperial Shadow. Logan was leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with a man who Amber assumed was the innkeeper. They glanced over at her, then Logan said something that made the other man laugh.

  Amber rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed; a defensive stance that she hoped would send a message to everyone that she was in no mood to be approached. It appeared to work, for the only person who came near her was Logan. The tricorne hat still sat low on his forehead, but a lock of hair had fallen into his face and now obstructed his gaze as he studied her. She raised an eyebrow in response to his scrutiny. “I assume that you were able to procure us rooms?”