To Marry A Marauder

by Heather C. Myers

  “Ladies, leave me and my companion alone for a while,” he told the women with a wink and a grin. “We have much catching up to do.”

  Brooke watched as they pouted and cooed and murmured about how he had to catch up with them, but left nonetheless. Brooke quirked a curious eyebrow and Charlie simply shrugged, his arrogant smirk still on his face.

  “Crossbones is like a second home to me,” he explained of the bar.

  “I would not be surprised,” she murmured back.

  Grace walked back with the drinks in her hand and found it odd that the group of whores had dispersed. Charlie was incredibly handsome and incredibly charming; he was quite a favorite among the whores. As she placed the drinks down, she took another glance at Brooke. This was her competition; this was the woman who had been occupying Charlie’s thoughts. She was beautiful, no doubt, but from what she could see, there was nothing incredibly special about her. Maybe she was just being biased; maybe she was just being jealous. She took a glance at Charlie and found him looking at Brooke with a smile. There was a sparkle in his eyes that appeared when he was looking at her, a sparkle she had never seen before. And then she knew. Grace wasn’t competition. She was not even in the running. She did not even have a chance.

  Brooke took the mug of water, drinking it down thirstily. The whores surrounded the table like tigers once again, taking their drinks in their hands and drinking them like Brooke drank her water. Charlie found himself with two whores in his lap while one was massaging his back. It was almost sickening to her. Grace also flared her nostrils at the sight, and when Brooke caught her eye, arched her brow with disbelief. Grace smiled slightly, and the two females began to talk. She was twenty-four, working to save up to sail the Caribbean. She already had a boat, and even mentioned that she let Charlie borrowed her boat.

  “Really?” Brooke asked, raising her brow in surprise.

  Grace nodded. “I figure that since he’s back, he brought back my boat,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at Brooke, who was fingering her mug in front of her. “He did bring my boat back, correct?”

  “Uh…”

  Before Brooke could respond, Grace spun around to face Charlie, glaring at him.

  “Where is my boat, you scallywag?” she exclaimed. The whores gave Grace disgusted looks but slowly disappeared once again, not wanting to be in the middle of a fight.

  “At a dock,” Charlie replied, smiling sheepishly.

  “Which one?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “Listen, you have to see it this way,” he explained, placing his palms up in front of him as though he was trying to get her to back away a bit. “I saw a bigger boat and thought it would be better to make a trade.”

  “Charlie Colt, you weren’t going to return my boat,” she said, thrusting an accusing finger in his face. “You…you…”

  “Uh…miss?” Brooke interjected calmly. Grace turned again and glared at her. “Listen, my father is a merchant in Port Royal. I promise that I will buy you a new boat to make up for Charlie leaving yours.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes at the young woman.

  “And why should I trust you?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I am not telling you to trust me,” Brooke replied honestly. “But I do give you my word. And let me just say that, in my opinion, if you choose to trust Charlie, I can assure you that you can trust me.”

  Grace thought for a long moment, but nodded and walked off. Charlie grinned at her.

  “You are quite skilled in the art of persuasion, love,” he told her.

  “You owe me,” she mumbled as she took another sip of her water, and then added, “Again.”

  As usual, the whores resumed their position, while Brooke watched musicians play various instruments and couples dance a vacant floor. Brooke was incredibly bored, so when a handsome sailor asked her to dance, she agreed. Charlie watched her take the man’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor. In that moment, the whores disappeared from his vision and all he saw was the man’s hands on Brooke’s waist. She did not quite know the dance, but she was laughing with him as he teased her. Charlie narrowed his eyes, suddenly not quite happy with the evening’s proceedings. He would not say that he was jealous; he just did not trust other men, especially with how they looked at Brooke. While the whores tried to get his attention, Charlie primarily focused on the young woman dancing. Nothing and no one could distract him.

  When Brooke came back to sit down, her face was flushed and she was smiling brilliantly. Charlie opened his mouth to say something to her, but before he could get a word out, another man asked Brooke for a dance. Brooke agreed once again, and after taking a long gulp of water, allowed the man to lead her back to the dance floor. With every minute that passed, Charlie seemed to get more and more upset. He didn’t even bother to mask his feeling; a scowl decorated his face. Even the whores cooing compliments at him did not cheer him up.

  Why was she so happy? he wondered. She obviously liked to dance. Well, he liked to dance as well, but he wasn’t just going to ask her. For a third time, a couple of the whores disappeared, looking into guaranteed business transactions for the night. The only time Charlie tore his eyes away from Brooke was to order a second pint of rum. Brooke did not even notice Charlie’s eyes burning into her back; she was having too much fun. Charlie could enjoy the company of those whores all he wanted; she was going to have fun dancing all night, if possible.

  After an hour, Brooke took a seat and gulped down the rest of her second glass of water. She smiled at him, and Charlie smiled back, but it did not reach his eyes. Charlie stood up abruptly, the whores nearly falling off his lap. Brooke almost laughed at the scene but caught herself.

  “C’mon,” Charlie said to her. “I want to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine. He’s going to find us an able-bodied crew so we can set sail tomorrow.”

  “I was having fun,” Brooke said with a pout but allowed the captain to wrap his arm tightly around her shoulder and lead her out of the bar.

  “I noticed,” Charlie said with an edge. “Anyways, after we speak with him, we are going to bed.”

  “You have a home here?” Brooke asked him curiously.

  “No,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “I’ve got us a couple of rooms at Crossbones.” Brooke opened her mouth, but Charlie said quickly, “No more dancing.”

  “You are a downer, Charlie,” Brooke mumbled as they exited the bar. “A real downer.”

  11

  Charlie led Brooke through the winding streets of Torro until the buildings, the noise, and the people became less frequent, and houses became more common. Brooke knew better than to ask where they were going once again, so she followed him silently without question.

  He stopped in front of a small house with smoke coming out of the chimney. A couple of pigs roamed in the front yard, their boundaries marked by a wooden picket fence. Mud stained their hooves, and their snorts pierced the silence. Charlie opened the gate, and Brooke followed him in. She made sure the gate closed behind them as the pigs came over to see who these new intruders were. Brooke’s eyes widened in surprise, unsure of how to act around the pigs. Charlie squatted with a smile and began to pet the pigs like they were dogs. He chuckled as a pig began to lick his face.

  He glanced up to see Brooke staring down at him with uncertainty.

  “They’re not going to bite you, love,” Charlie told her.

  “I know that,” she snapped and glanced warily at a pig. “They’re dirty is all.”

  “Well so am I, most of the time,” Charlie told her. “Yet you seem content to pet me from time to time.” He gave her a cheeky grin, causing Brooke to arch a brow, a stoic look upon her face. She slowly slid into a squatting position beside him.

  A couple of the pigs left Charlie to smell Brooke. Her nose scrunched as she tried to dodge the pig’s snout, but it hit her square in the cheek. She squealed with surprise. The act caught her so off-guard that she lost her balance and fell on her bottom in the
mud. The pigs began to surround her, and Charlie started laughing. Brooke was so surprised at what happened; pigs were sniffing and licking her, her backside was covered in mud, and Charlie was laughing at her. She wanted to be mad, but Charlie’s laugh was too contagious, the occurred events were too humorous that she could not help but start to laugh as well.

  After a moment, the front door of the house burst open, and a man stepped out with a lantern in one hand, and a pistol in the other. From what Brooke could make out of him, the man was about half a head shorter than Charlie, with graying hair. He was older than the two of them, about sixty, and he was squinting his blue eyes. He was not fat, but a round belly protruded out of a white tunic, and he was wearing light brown slacks and matching boots.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” he drawled, waving his pistol around with a touch of paranoia.

  “Ken, it’s me, mate,” Charlie said, standing up.

  “Charlie?” Ken asked, furrowing his bushy brow as Charlie helped Brooke up. “Is that you?”

  “Yes sir,” Charlie responded. “I have brought along a friend as well.”

  “Ah,” Kenneth said knowingly. “Another one, ay, Charlie? Will you ever tire of those loose women ’cause I know they’ll never tire of you if ye catch me drift.”

  The pirate captain smiled but shook his head. “No, Ken,” he told the older man softly. “Not her.”

  “Really?” Kenneth asked with surprise, and then let out a long, low whistle. “Well, then I gotta meet this girl, now don’t I? What are two doin’ out in the cold? C’mon now, come inside. And Charlie, both of you will stay with me as long as you need to—I don’t care if you’ve got rooms at the Crossbones!”

  Brooke was smiling as she listened to the older man speak. He led the two of them into his small home where candles and lanterns lit up the different rooms. Charlie closed the door and Kenneth led them into the dining room. When the old man turned, he studied the two people before him.

  “Charlie, hate to say it, but age don’t agree with you,” he said, shaking his head. “And you,” he motioned at Brooke, “look at your clothes! Can’t Charlie afford any clean ones?! Come, come, my wife (may God rest her soul) was your size when she was younger. I’ll go fetch you a nice pair of breeches and a tunic to change into. Well, what are ye waiting for? Follow me!”

  Charlie smirked as he watched Brooke follow Kenneth into another room. An overwhelming sense of pride overtook him for having Brooke with him. People seemed to take to her, and she was always incredibly kind. Even when she was dancing with other men, even when every man’s eyes were on her, he was proud knowing that she would be leaving with him that night.

  Kenneth came back and looked at the younger man suspiciously. He placed his knuckles on his hips, narrowing his eyes at Charlie.

  “How’d you tangle yourself up with her?” he mumbled as he took a seat across from the pirate captain.

  “I read a nice, long soliloquy outside her bedroom window comparing her beauty to that of a rose,” Charlie said through his long fingers. Currently, his chin was in his palm and his fingers blanketed his lips.

  “I don’t think she would buy that,” Kenneth observed as he leaned back in his wooden chair.

  “She didn’t,” Charlie replied, and then proceeded to sit up in the uncomfortable chair. “I have a favor to ask of you, Ken.”

  Kenneth nodded. “I figured as much,” he said. “What be on your mind, boy?”

  “I need a crew, tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Charlie told him.

  “What happened to your other crew?” Kenneth asked.

  “Mutiny.” That was all Charlie said and Kenneth didn’t push him.

  It was at that moment that Brooke decided to show up. While the breeches Kenneth gave to her were still relatively loose on her, the tunic was rather form-fitting. Charlie stared at the young woman for a long moment until Kenneth cleared his throat to get the two’s attention.

  “What are ye up to, boy?” Kenneth asked, rocking back and forth on the legs of his chair. “Revenge on your mutinous crew? Revenge on Sutherland?”

  “I have already successfully executed my revenge on Sutherland,” Charlie said, articulating his words with preciseness. “I have stolen his ship and his girl.”

  The words hurt Brooke more than she thought they would. Was she merely with him because he wanted to anger Sutherland by claiming her as his own? Was she being used like a puppet on a string?

  Charlie’s words caused Kenneth to look over at Brooke for a minute.

  “So this is the lass that Sutherland was supposed to marry,” Kenneth said. “No wonder he’s after ye.”

  “He’s after us not only because of that,” Charlie said as he reached into his pocket. “He’s after us to attain this map. This is the reason I need that crew, Ken.” He pulled out the map, unfolded it, and carefully slid it across the table to Kenneth. “This map will lead us to the treasure mentioned in the Dead Man’s Tale.”

  Kenneth peered down at the map intently, squinting his eyes to make out the islands surrounding the one marked with the giant X.

  “It’s by Cuba,” he finally stated, looking up at Charlie and sliding the map back to him.

  “It is,” Charlie agreed.

  “Rumor has it Diablette is after this very map,” Kenneth warned as he leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, how did Sutherland know of this map?”

  “The map was originally part of Brooke’s dowry,” Charlie explained. “She managed to swipe the parchment before he did.”

  “I do not believe anyone knows it is missing,” Brooke told the two.

  “Did you know what the map held before you picked it up?” Kenneth asked the young woman.

  “No,” Brooke replied honestly. “My friend is a mapmaker, you see, and one day, I happened to be in his storage room, where he keeps his maps, and I happened to find the map on the floor.”

  “The map was just lying on the floor?” Kenneth asked with disbelief.

  “I do not think he meant it to be on the floor,” Brooke said, “nor do I believe that he knew the true context of the map. I do not believe anyone knows the true context of the map, really,” she added.

  “Save for the people involved in the organization of your dowry,” put in Charlie.

  “I doubt my father knew about the value of the map, or he would save it for himself,” Brooke murmured.

  “Think about it, darling,” Charlie said, turning to face Brooke. “Your father is already wealthy; there is no need for him to go after treasure, and he desperately wants you married. I remember when you were ten years old; he was trying to find you a husband even then. Don’t you think that the map in question would make a good bartering tool to attract suitors to you, whether they are young or old?”

  “Well, while you two discuss the current matter at hand, I am going to go find you a crew,” Kenneth said, noticing the tension between the two. He pushed himself up and headed out the front door. The two did not notice his departure.

  “Are you insinuating that my father needs to offer a treasure map to make men want to marry me?” Brooke asked, appalled at Charlie’s blatant statement.

  “Well, you are twenty years of age and are not even yet engaged,” Charlie said, pursing his lips together.

  “Technically, I am engaged to Lord Sutherland,” Brooke said without even thinking. If Charlie wanted to be rude, then she could be as well.

  “If you want to marry him, I will return you to him myself!” Charlie said, his anger increasing by the mere mention of her engagement to Sutherland.

  “I bet you would!” Brooke exclaimed. “You have what you want. The only reason you took me along with you in the first place is because of your bloody fascination with exacting your revenge on Lord Sutherland!”

  Charlie could not believe what Brooke had just said. He felt as if she had just slapped him across the face. He heard her wooden chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heard her footsteps as they departed up the stairs, but he
was still frozen in his chair. Did she really believe what she said? Did she really believe him to have so poor a character?

  When he first saw Brooke that night in her room, he was instantly attracted to her. She was absolutely beautiful. After a few days of seeing her, he was drawn to her personality. The way she said nothing when he made his entrance into her bedroom. The way she tracked him down in that pub alone, despite the dangers it entailed for her. The way she allowed him to take her away from the attack on Port Royal without question.

  Then he got to know her as a person. Her unwavering loyalty to him. Her sense of adventure, her open mind, her intelligence. He respected her, and in all honesty, she was all he had left. Heath was gone now, and he did not trust anyone but her. For her to believe that he was just using her as some small piece in his extravagant game hurt him.

  Charlie sighed as he got up, out of his seat. He proceeded to make his way up the stairs, trying to think of the right words to say. He glanced down the hall, deciding which room to try first. His eyes narrowed on the lone door that was shut and made his way over there. His boots thumped on the wooden floor, echoing through the hall. He walked to the door and brushed his knuckles against the wood and knocked.

  “Go away!”

  Charlie exhaled sharply through his nose.

  “You know you can’t stay mad at me forever, darling,” he drawled and then pressed his ear up to the door to listen to the response.

  “Is that a challenge, Captain?”

  Charlie bit his lip to keep from retorting something he would later regret. Again, he exhaled, and then took a breath.

  “Darling, I’d really just like to—”

  “My name is Brooke!” she corrected.

  He bit his bottom lip a little harder this time.

  “Excuse me,” he said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Whenever Charlie was mad and did not want to lose control of his temper, he made sure to articulate every word so he had time to process what he was going to say before saying it, “Brooke. All I would like to do is talk.”