To Marry A Marauder

by Heather C. Myers

  “Where, pray tell, is the woman I told you to keep an eye on?” he asked her through gritted teeth. His patience was too far gone for him to reclaim it, and at this point, he saw no reason to.

  Grace’s eyes softened, and she looked around, finding that the young girl had disappeared. However, her sympathy for the young woman was not enough to make her act upon such feelings. Charlie had hurt her too much by disconnecting himself from her, if they were even connected in the first place. And she could admit to herself that she was jealous of the younger woman. The young woman had Charlie wrapped around her finger, and she did not even know it. So, instead of a helpful comment, Grace became defensive.

  “How do you know she just didn’t walk off?” she asked roughly. “How do you know she just didn’t run away from you the way you ran away from me?”

  Charlie knew he did not have time for this, and yet he did not want to lose Grace’s friendship.

  “Because I know Brooke,” Charlie told her calmly. “And I know Brooke would never walk out on me. Although you won’t admit it, we both know that I was bound to walk away from you.”

  “Excuse me,” a voice interrupted the two. They both turned to look at the barmaid who was currently holding an envelope between her fingers and looking at Charlie. “Are you Charlie Colt?”

  “Yes I am,” he answered, darker than he intended to. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

  “A lady left this here for ye,” the barmaid said, offering him the envelope. “She says, ‘Give this here envelope to him immediately when you see him.’ She spoke with an accent to her tongue.”

  When Charlie heard that, his eyes widened and he snatched the envelope from her. He mumbled a thanks and headed for the door as he began to tear open the envelope.

  Grace watched him go with sad eyes. She knew that what he said was all true. She also knew that it was highly doubtful he would be coming back.

  Captain Esmeralda Diablette led Brooke through the streets of Torro. To a stranger, Brooke appeared incredibly calm as the older woman guided her to the main docks. However, if one looked more closely at the young woman, one might notice her set jaw line or the way her sea-green eyes had hardened. If one pressed their ear to her chest, they would no doubt hear her rapid heartbeat, and come to understand that all was not well.

  The two made their way to the docks, and Diablette pulled the younger woman into a small rowboat.

  “You have good eyesight, yes?” Diablette asked as the young woman sat across from her. She pointed to a ship, swaying idly in the ocean. “Row to that ship…vamos!”

  Brooke took the oars in her hands and strained as she pushed the oars down. A fire shot through her arms as the boat began to make its way slowly across the sea. Brooke had never rowed a boat before; therefore, she did not have the muscles it took to row the boat with ease. Diablette noticed the young woman’s struggle, and she smiled mockingly as she began to roll herself some tobacco. By the time Brooke reached the boat to the ship’s side, every muscle in her upper body ached and tiny drops of perspiration littered her forehead.

  “Well, go on,” Diablette said, taking the pistol in one hand as she held on to her tobacco with the other. She waved the pistol at Brooke. “Go up. Do you not understand ingles? People will be waiting for you up there!”

  Brooke took a deep breath and slowly stood up. She knew Diablette would not shoot her or else the mad Spaniard would never see the map. She chewed her bottom lip as she turned to the stairs. Finally, she reached up, masking the look of pain with a glare, and pulled herself up. The climb took longer than usual, and her arms cried for mercy, but Brooke would not relent until she had swung a leg over the railing. She was finally aboard. Brooke glanced down, expecting to see Diablette behind her, but the pirate captain was rowing away in the boat, the roll of tobacco between her lips.

  When Diablette realized Brooke was looking at her, she released an oar to grab the tobacco from her lips.

  “Adios, mi amiga,” she called and then resumed her former position.

  This puzzled Brooke; why was the woman leaving after they had just returned to her ship? She waited for a long moment before swinging her other leg over and sliding on board of the ship.

  “Miss Brooke Cunningham,” a familiar voice drawled from behind her. “How nice of you to drop onboard my temporary ship.”

  Brooke gulped and turned around, her sea-green eyes coming in contact with none other than the blue eyes of Lord Sutherland.

  See the lass again alive

  Take me to the sea

  I will meet you at your ship soon

  Or soon will ship the lass to sea

  Charlie knew who this was from and what Diablette wanted. He also knew something like this was bound to happen, that someone would take Brooke and use her against him. She was his Achilles’ heel, as it were, and he knew that if he had to, he would trade the map for her life.

  Charlie left the pub immediately. He could not make it to his ship fast enough, it seemed. As he ran down the streets of Torro, he pushed anyone who got in his way to the side. His dark eyes were narrow, and his jaw was set firmly. There was nothing or no one that would deter him from his goal.

  He managed to reach the old docks in record time. He saw Diablette, sitting in a small boat, as though she was waiting for him. She was waiting for him. Charlie clenched his jaw as he walked down the docks and reached the rowboat, his eyes narrowed at the woman, sitting there, taunting him with a Cheshire smile. She patted the unoccupied seat across from her eagerly.

  “What you waiting for, muchacho?” she teased coyly. “Come sit with me.”

  Charlie pulled out his pistol as he took a seat across from her. He leveled it so it stared her in the face. Charlie’s hand wrapped around the pistol naturally; his hand did not clench around the butt of the gun, nor did his finger twitch either with anxiety or anticipation. He held the gun levelly and firmly, not ceasing to break his stare with her.

  “Tell me, Diablette,” he said dangerous voice, calmly. Diablette would never admit it, but she had goosebumps. “Tell me why I should not pull this trigger and end this right here and now?”

  “Well, if you did that,” she said with a sideways smirk, masking her fear with confidence, “then your little lass will be dead without hesitation.”

  “Where is she?” Charlie asked through clenched teeth. He did not pull the gun away from her face. “Where are you holding her?”

  Diablette’s smirk deepened and her eyebrow arched up.

  “Did I strike a nerve with you, Captain Colt?” she taunted. She motioned her arms toward the rows. “Row us to your ship and I will tell you where I keep her.” Charlie’s jaw twitched. “Come now,” the woman continued. “You cannot row with a pistol in your hand, can you?”

  Charlie exhaled through his nose and slowly attached the pistol back to his belt. He took the wooden oars in his callused hands and began to row. His face was passive, but at that moment, he was as unstable as a volcano. He was too angry to hide his fury, too angry to think straight, and too angry to control himself. The only thing keeping that woman sitting across from alive was the fact that she held Brooke’s life in her hand. Diablette continued to taunt Charlie with her smile as he rowed to his ship. She leaned back, stretching out her long legs, just enjoying the ride. She liked that she was in control of Charlie when so long ago it was he who had been in control of her. Just the memory of her past caused her to scowl, and she threw her glance off the boat to the water.

  “Turn shy all of a sudden, Diablette?” Charlie asked her after a moment. He did not want to hear her speak, but he wanted to know how to get Brooke back with him alive. “Way I remember it, you were never a shy pet.”

  Now it was Diablette’s jaw that twitched as her eyes crashed into his.

  “Way I remember it, Charlie Colt did not fall in love,” she said, turning the tables. Her face faded into calmness now, and her smirk slithered back onto her face.

  “This has nothing
to do with love,” Charlie said tightly, casting his gaze out at sea.

  “On the contrary, Charlie, this has everything to do with love,” Diablette said. “You were never so close with a woman, I remember.”

  “Well, you really didn’t know me,” Charlie told her.

  “No, Charlie, I know you quite well, in fact,” the Spaniard said, her eyes twinkling. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, even.” Charlie said nothing, causing her smile to widen. “Now, to rescue your wench—”

  “Call her that again, and I’ll be introducing you to Davy Jones personally,” Charlie snarled.

  “Oh Charlie, you used to control your anger,” Diablette chided, “but then again, your passion always turned me on.” She smiled sensually but he scrunched his nose in disgust, looking away again at the ocean. “Anyway, to save your lass, here is the deal; you are to lead me to this land wherever the map leads you, wherever this treasure be. Your lass will be following in my ship under the careful supervision of me crew.” She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and she peered at Charlie with a seriousness to her dark eyes. “Hear me this, Charlie. If you lead me anywhere besides where this map leads, I will signal to my crew to kill your wench. If you harm me, I will signal to my crew to kill your wench. Are we clear, Charlie?”

  “Let me tell you something, missy,” Charlie said softly. “If there is but one tiny little scratch on her littlest finger I will not hesitate to pull the trigger and blow your brains out, understand?”

  “I make no promises, Charlie,” Diablette said with a smile. “But you make sure that if I give you a reason to pull your trigger, you make sure that it’s for a very good reason. You cannot revoke death.”

  “Sweetheart, your life makes no difference to me,” Charlie told her just as they reached the ship. “I would kill you if you looked at me the wrong way, but believe me, if one of her hairs is out of place, I will make your death very long and very painful.”

  Diablette leaned back in the boat.

  “Like I said, Charlie,” she said. “I make no promises.”

  Lord Sutherland walked up to Brooke, and when he was a foot from her, he reached up and slowly caressed her hair. Brooke flinched, and a smile crawled onto Sutherland’s face. He watched as she would not look at him, choosing to lock her gaze on the wooden deck of the ship. He was amused by this; her fear, her refusal to look him in the eye.

  “I see that your companion is not here,” he told her, letting his arm fall back to his side.

  The mere reference to Charlie caused Brooke’s eyes to jump into Sutherland’s.

  “That is because you took me from him,” she snapped lowly, her sea-green eyes emerald with passion.

  “And as such, you have no protection from Captain Esmeralda Diablette’s crew,” he told her softly, “nor do you have any protection from me.” He took another step toward her, his height towering over her, and he raised his hands once again to caress her cheeks with his index and middle fingers. He dropped them to caress her jaw line, before wrapping his whole hand around Brooke’s slender throat. Her eyes widened in surprised as he squeezed her.

  “Now listen, and listen closely,” he told her, his low voice rushed. Spits of saliva littered her face, but she did not even notice. “Charlie Colt is leading this ship to where the map, the very map I would have received had you not stolen it, leads. I know you have seen it; I know you know where this map leads because Colt trusts you and I know that Colt told you its location. Now I cannot kill you, but I sure as hell have ways to get you to speak to me without actually killing you. If you tell me where this map leads, on the off chance that Charlie decides not to lead us in the right direction, you will spend the duration of your stay unharmed. But if you refuse, I promise you by the time we reach wherever we are going, you will be barely standing, and barely breathing.” He thrust her throat out of his grasp, his teeth ground together. He watched as Brooke choked to grasp for air, her eyes glassy and her face red.

  “Now, what do you say?” he asked her, taking yet another step forward.

  Brooke’s heart was racing. She was afraid of torture, afraid of pain. But her allegiance with Charlie was too important to compromise. She had no idea what Charlie’s plan was, or if Charlie was really leading them to where the treasure was. Despite her fears, she decided to stay mum on the whole situation. At least one card was working for her; Sutherland could not kill her. That she knew for sure because the man had no reason to lie about that. She would hurt, she knew, but in the end, she would be alive and Sutherland would be none the wiser.

  “Tell me where the map leads,” he told her dangerously. His voice was edging on madness.

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed as she felt a sudden surge of adrenaline course through her veins.

  “No,” she told him firmly.

  Without warning, Sutherland slapped her face with the back of his hand. Brooke’s head buzzed and her cheek throbbed, but she pulled her face back up to look Sutherland back in the eyes. Her eyes narrowed, but it was harder to keep her balance.

  “I said, tell me where the map leads,” he told her through gritted teeth.

  “No,” she replied.

  This time, Sutherland’s slap was harder, causing Brooke to lose her footing. Her body hit the wooden floor with a thud. Again, her head felt light, the back of her eyes burned, and she sensed a metallic taste of blood forming in her mouth. She struggled to breathe, still reeling from when his fingers gripped her throat, and she stayed where she was for a moment. She could feel his eyes burning into her back, but she would not let him see her submit to him. She flattened her hands on the deck and pushed herself up, but a sudden slam in her ribcage pushed her down and caused her to cry out.

  “This is just the beginning,” his voice whispered harshly in her ear. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was kneeling beside her. “Maybe an hour with Diablette’s crew will get you to talk, hmm?” He got up and turned. “Maria, take this woman to the brig. Introduce her to the crew.” He turned back to look at Brooke who was attempting to push herself up again. He knelt down and took a chunk of her hair within his hand, and pulled. She cried as he pulled her up so that she was looking at him. “One more chance, wench.”

  The blood had seeped into her mouth now, and Brooke’s head was so light that her thoughts were hazy. Before she fully comprehended what she was doing, Brooke Cunningham spit in Sutherland’s face. Her saliva mixed with her blood decorated his face now. This sight amused Brooke so much that when he slapped her again, she smiled.

  When her body hit the ground, she was immediately pulled up harshly by two women from Diablette’s crew, both of whom seemed to be of the same Spanish descent as their captain.

  “Let’s go, princess,” the one on her left said.

  “Yeah,” the other one agreed. “Let’s get ye acquainted with the crew.”

  “Who is this broad?” Kenneth asked as Charlie and Diablette made their way on board. His blue eyes were squinted and his head was cocked to the side, studying the strange woman who boarded the ship. He knew right off something was off about her; the way Charlie was so tense, the way his brow was furrowed. He glanced back at the woman who seemed to be incredibly confident with her hands on her hips and an arrogant smirk on her face. Kenneth decided after careful scrutiny that he did not like her.

  “My name is Captain Esmeralda Diablette,” the woman said, placing a hand on her chest.

  Kenneth’s eyes widened in realization.

  “You’re the Spanish wench,” he said. He glanced over at Charlie once again, his brow pushed together. “What is she doin’ here, Charlie?” he asked. “I didn’t know she was to be aboard.”

  “She’s only going to be here temporarily,” Charlie explained tightly.

  “Where is Brooke?” the old man asked, placing his hands on his hips again in a no-nonsense way.

  “That is the reason this…woman is here,” Charlie said, struggling to find the correct word to describe the wo
man next to him without offending her. He knew that he was putty in her hands until Brooke was safe. “We are to lead her to the treasure and she is to return Brooke to us.”

  Kenneth’s mouth dropped in surprise.

  “That was my initial reaction, Ken,” Charlie told the old man. He started to walk over to the nearby helm and took the wheel in his hand. He glanced at Diablette. “Just because I can lead you to the island where the treasure rests does not mean I can lead you to the particular place where it is.”

  “Oh, Charlie,” Diablette tutted, shaking her head. “You are always one step behind.” She walked over to him and pulled out an old, folded piece of parchment. “This will tell me the exact location of the treasure.”

  “Why do you need me then, if you’ve got a map for yourself?” Charlie asked with agitation. He was currently waiting for his new crew to lift the anchor and get the sails in order before they could officially leave Torro, and his impatience made his waiting seem longer.

  Diablette held the parchment in her hands, but showed Charlie the contents.

  “This is not a map,” she told him. “This is a riddle, and you are going to help me figure it out.”

  Charlie smirked. “Thought you were smarter than that,” he chided. His expression turned serious after a moment, and his eyes darkened. “Where did you happen upon that particular piece of parchment there?”

  Diablette smiled coyly at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said, waving it in the air tauntingly. She pulled it close so she could read it herself. “I have connections who has had this parchment in their family for years.”

  “So you have a partner in your little scheme?” Charlie asked her as Kenneth nodded at him, signaling that the ship was ready to set sail. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

  “I was never the one who had a problem with trust, Charlie,” she told him, looking into his eyes.