To Belive A Buccaneer

by Heather C. Myers

  “Because they can’t,” Izzy said simply. “Johnny, because of your disappearance, a lot of pirates are going to be upset with you.”

  “And a lot of pirates don’t believe in me either,” Johnny said. “They would rather I not lead them into war at all.”

  “If not you, then who?” Izzy asked, furrowing her brow.

  Johnny shrugged. “Anyone who is not me, obviously,” he drawled, before sighing through his nose. He hadn’t ever shared any of his doubts with anybody, but it felt good to finally unload some of them.

  “Can I see your hand?” she asked him.

  “What?”

  “Your hand,” Izzy said, reaching out across the table. Johnny frowned, clearly unsure, but placed his large hand in her smaller one. She looked down at it, admiring the long, callused fingers. After a moment, she looked up in order to catch Johnny’s eyes in hers. “Don’t you see, Johnny? All of your dreams lie in the palm of your hand. You’re capable of doing whatever you want if you could only believe in them.” She paused, looking down at their connected hands for a long moment. “But if you can’t, I’ll just believe in you for you.”

  “Why?” Johnny asked, his voice lower due to its seriousness. “Why do you have faith in me?”

  “Faith is beyond any explanation, Johnny,” she told him, her voice just as low. “I just believe in you.”

  Before Izzy realized it, Johnny turned his hand so his fingers could wrap around her wrist and he pulled her towards him. It took her by surprise when she felt his lips touch hers, but she closed her eyes and a very soft whimper escaped from her mouth. Upon hearing it, a primitive instinct took over Johnny and his grip tightened on her, a growl erupting in the bowels of his throat. Her lips were softer than he could imagine, and for a moment, he was completely mesmerized by her entire essence that managed to consume him without even realizing it. He longed to continue doing this for a long time, but a crowded pub was not the place to do so.

  When he regrettably had to let her lips go in order to breathe, he opened his eyes in order to stare at her. She had never appeared to be as beautiful as she was in that moment. Though the kiss was soft and chaste, it left him with the desire for more. If he did nothing else in the world, he wanted to kiss Izzy once again, maybe even for the rest of his life. He was suddenly aware that he wanted nobody else except the woman in front of him. The thought scared him, but at that moment, he didn’t particularly care.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he murmured, his voice husky once again.

  “Well,” Izzy said, a very light blush tainting her cheek. “I’m glad you did, then.”

  At that moment, somebody wrapped their arms around Izzy and pulled her from the bench while another man placed the tip of a sword to her throat.

  “Well, well, well,” the man holding Izzy said, his beady black eyes focusing solely on Johnny. “Look ’ho decided ter come back.”

  “An’ look what he brought wit’ ’im,” the man holding the sword murmured.

  “Ah,” Johnny said, slowly standing. “Pollock and Murphy. How surprising.” Though he tried to keep his voice controlled, his eyes clearly betrayed how worried he really was. “Let her go or I will chop both of you to bits and pieces and serve you to the fishies.”

  “I don’t think so, Johnny,” the first man said before two men appeared from behind Johnny and took his arms so the pirate could not even attempt to rescue the woman. “We don’t want ye ter be leadin’ our kind to our deaths, and ter show how serious we be, we want you to watch.”

  “Watch what?” Johnny asked, slight hesitation in his voice. He didn’t want to ask, but wasn’t sure what else he could do. If anything happened to Izzy, he would carry out his threat without a second thought.

  However, none of the men responded. Instead, they looked at Izzy before looking back at Johnny, and both smiled enigmatically.

  26

  It was probably the most excruciating fifteen minutes of Johnny’s life. The two men who had Izzy had taken her outside, vanishing into the night. The two men holding onto Johnny followed, but due to the darkness that currently consumed the sky, it was hard to see. He couldn’t even hear her, and that’s what upset him the most. Johnny did everything in his power to escape from the man holding him captive, but while Johnny was taller than they were, they were much stronger.

  He found out later that the reason they had done this to him in the first place was because he had run away from his duties. He had indirectly caused the death of numerous pirates due to the Navy’s stricter laws and punishments concerning those that flew jolly rogers rather than colors. They wanted to take something dear to him and hurt it as much as they were hurting. They wanted Johnny to feel their pain.

  When they were finally finished, they pushed Johnny into an abandoned alleyway, where the pirate nearly tripped over something. On second glance, he realized that it was Izzy. He couldn’t quite tell what they had done to her, but he could tell she was hurt. Badly. Cocking his head to the side, he placed his ear to her chest to make sure she was still breathing.

  Barely, he realized.

  Suddenly, everything he knew and adored and favored didn’t matter anymore. Johnny’s shaky fingers reached up and buried themselves in his locks of dark hair. He had to think of something quickly; he couldn’t just stay out here with Izzy in this condition. But where? He couldn’t take her back to the scrag. People knew it was his usual hangout, as they had said in the New World, and anyone who wanted to inflect harm on him the way those four men had could easily do so. There were many inns scattered across Tortuga, but none would have the proper medical supplies one would need to fix her up and—

  What if she died here?

  The thought came into his mind before he could stop it, but it sunk deep into him until he thought about it. She wasn’t even here for twelve hours, and already Izzy was in a battered state. He had been in her world for nearly two months and the only pain he felt was when he saw the look on Izzy’s face after catching him in the supply closet with Candy. He knew it was more dangerous here, but he thought…he thought…

  Before he could stop them, Johnny’s dark eyes grew misty. He couldn’t even watch her properly. Already ten hours in his time, under his care, and she was fighting off death. Would she…? Not if he could help it.

  “Come on, man,” he muttered to himself, blinking all traces of sentimentality away from his eyes.

  What about the ship?

  He couldn’t take her back there. He had no idea where everything was, and even if he did, he highly doubted they had medical supplies stocked.

  So, no inns, pubs, ships… What else was on the island? He had no friends who lived here, so a house was out of the question….

  Johnny’s eyes looked desperately out of the alley, hoping to find inspiration somewhere. He was Johnny Clover, for crying out loud! He always managed to weasel out of death; he could find somewhere to take Izzy, couldn’t he? All he could see were the flashes of the women’s dresses, the silhouette of the sea, the…

  Well, he did know one place to take her….

  To say that Madame Bouvier was surprised would most certainly be an understatement. She hadn’t seen the likes of Johnny Clover in her brothel for quite a while, at least where the pirate was concerned. In fact, if she had to put a time frame on it, she hadn’t seen Johnny here for a couple of months, give or take. And to see him standing at her door with a battered woman in his arms and a look of complete desolation…well, she couldn’t quite find a suitable label for the current emotions she felt.

  However, the older woman always had a soft spot for Johnny, and he had always been one of her best customers. Her girls had taken to him as well, but that was to be expected. He was handsome, charming, and a fantastic lover, and he was going to lead pirates into a fierce battle with the Navy. He always looked so cool, so confident, as though he knew exactly what he was doing, and if he didn’t, he could fake it easily enough. As the Madame looked at him no
w, she realized how lost he was.

  “Please,” he said, his voice throaty. “You have to help.”

  Madame Bouvier nodded once and stepped aside, allowing the pirate to come inside the brothel. “Go to the third floor,” she instructed him, her French accent lacing through every word. “There’s a spare bedroom there. I’ll get the supplies you need to fix her.”

  Johnny all but dashed up the three stories, wary of Izzy’s unconscious form in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her in any way, but he wanted to get her to a bedroom, somewhere comfortable, as quickly as he could. He entered the first bedroom he could find. It was brighter in here, with lamps filled with candle flames scattered in the room. Johnny gently placed Izzy on top of the bed, knowing that to dress her wounds he would have to dispose of the clothes she was wearing. Perhaps Marion Bouvier had some extra articles of clothing she could borrow when he had finished.

  He stared deeply at the young woman. It hurt him to know that somebody could do this to her to get back to him. Johnny curled an errant strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertip caress a portion of unmarked skin. Whatever those men did to her, it was brutal. He grit his teeth tightly, anger taking over worry now that he knew he was able to care for her somewhere safe. If he ever got his hands on those men again, he would make good on his promise. He had no qualms about chopping them up into little pieces and feeding them to the animals that occupied the sea.

  Johnny’s breath hitched in his throat. She would survive this, wouldn’t she? She had to. He couldn’t bear the thought of realizing his feelings for her and then losing her. He wouldn’t even let himself think of such a notion.

  “Knock knock,” a voice called. Johnny immediately recognized it as Marion Bouvier’s, and though he didn’t respond, she entered anyways. “I have supplies for you, Johnny. Rum, hot and dry towels, bandages…” She let her voice trail off as she caught the utter look of worry in his chocolate brown eyes. “Anything else you might need?”

  “A change of clothes for her,” Johnny said, going over to the supplies. “Something loose, if you have it, please.”

  “Of course,” Marion said, nodding before disappearing out the door once again.

  Johnny began to survey the wounds, and from what he could see, nothing looked too drastic. No cut was dangerously deep so it didn’t seem necessary to wake her in order to clean the wounds. Before he undressed her, he swallowed and hesitated for a moment. He had always been skillful when it came to disrobing members of the fairer sex, but she was different. He had known so from the moment he had laid eyes upon her. Johnny had always imagined undressing her, but never in such a setting. Despite this, he knew he had to make sure everything was clean.

  Marion helped him when she returned, and in the next hour, every wound was dressed and Izzy was wearing a loose tunic and pantaloons. Though she was breathing, she had not woken up throughout the aid her body was being given. Johnny wasn’t sure if this was good or not. He tried not to think about it as he worked, but when he had finished, it was the only thing on his mind.

  Marion seemed to have read his obvious distress, for she placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “As long as she is breathing,” she told him in her silky voice, “there is hope.”

  Johnny glanced over at the woman, who was currently taking a seat next to him. Johnny, himself, was in a chair on the side of the bed with no plans to leave Izzy’s side any time soon. He said nothing, however, but his eyes seemed to say it all. He knew that what she had said was correct, but it didn’t make him feel better when she was still unconscious.

  “May I ask,” Marion began, unsure if Johnny would take any offense to her question. “Who is she?”

  Johnny sighed through his nose. How to explain Izzy to anyone? It was too complicated. So, he decided to go with the simplest answer he could muster. “She is the woman I love,” he told her.

  It was also the truest.

  27

  It had been four days when Izzy finally opened her eyes and kept them open. She felt comfortable, noticing covers wrapped around her body, a fluffy pillow underneath her head—and there was the pain. Oh God, the excruciating pain. What had happened, exactly? What did she remember? She closed her eyes once again, but as she thought about it, a lulling ache started to pulsate in the back of her head. She stifled a groan, but continued to focus.

  Izzy knew she was in the eighteenth century, and if she had to guess, probably in the early seventeen hundreds—when the Age of Piracy was thriving. Johnny had been showing her around Tortuga, and then took her into a pub where she could try rum, a drink she had no fondness for. Whores had been trying to get his attention, but Johnny didn’t seem interested…. They were talking, and then they—

  Oh shit. They kissed. They kissed.

  And then… She frowned as her eyes snapped back open. Men had grabbed her and others had grabbed Johnny so he couldn’t get to her. They had…they had taken her into the darkness, outside, where they began to—

  She shut her eyes again. She didn’t want to remember. All she would say was that it was bad.

  It was then that Izzy realized there was slight pressure around her waist. She frowned and glanced down, but due to the fact that the room she was currently in was dark, she couldn’t make anything out. She sighed through her nose in slight frustration, and instead, glanced to her side.

  Johnny.

  Johnny was lying next to her, completely and fully in slumber. His profile was sharp and relaxed. There was no worry, no anger, no flirtatious looks touching his features. He was completely calm and incredibly handsome in the shadows. He was here with her. Somehow, he had gotten her out of her trouble, brought her somewhere… He was with her. Johnny was lying next to her, his hand wrapped around her waist…. She was so happy. She was so…relieved…

  But now, she needed to find the restroom.

  Izzy tried to slip out of Johnny’s grasp, but even in his sleep, he must have known what she was up to because his grip only tightened around her. She pushed her lips together to contain her giggles, and after a few more tries, managed to break free from the pirate. Johnny didn’t seem to like this because his brow pushed down and his lips curled into a frown, but he didn’t wake up. She smiled at the sight, trying not to let herself feel the pain as she stood up. It took her a long moment to get her balance, and though her knees were slightly shaky and she felt as though she might collapse, she managed to stay upright.

  Now…to find the restroom.

  As silently as she could, she walked across the room and opened the bedroom before opening it and slipping through the door frame. The first thing she noticed was the nice, wooden walls. They had to be in a house of some sort, not a ship. But where could they possibly be? This place seemed too nice for the likes of Tortuga….

  Izzy cut her musings short as she searched for some sort of restroom. It took a few tries until she reached the correct room, and after doing her business, she stepped out, resuming her thoughts about where Johnny had brought her. Maybe this was his home. Maybe he had a home here on Tortuga. But… Something tickled her intuitive senses, telling her that while Johnny seemed comfortable here, he didn’t exactly own this place. When she found a case of stairs, she cautiously proceeded to head downwards. Nobody seemed to be awake yet, but after peering out a window, she knew it had to be at least six, seven o’clock in the morning. Izzy realized she had been staying on a third floor, so she continued to head down the stairs until she reached the bottom.

  The young woman paused for a moment, tightening her grasp on the stair’s banister so she could temporarily rest her body. Though the pain wasn’t as searing, it was still strenuous to move after some time in bed. At the thought, she frowned. How long was she out, exactly? How many days had passed since that night?

  Before she could ponder such a thought, voices coming from her left distracted her. They sounded…feminine…not dangerous, in the least. So, after another moment, she headed over down a hallway and into what appeared to b
e a dining room. Three different women sat around a nicely made table with tea cups set in front of each of them. They all seemed happy, chuckling and smiling. Even though it was early in the morning, they still managed to look beautiful, which caused Izzy to wonder just how badly she looked at that moment.

  The woman sitting at the head of the table was the first to notice her. She had straight black hair pulled up into an intricately designed bun, smooth ivory skin, and clear, turquoise eyes. Her lips were full, her figure slender. She was wearing a sage green dress that revealed the curves of her body. When her eyes caught Izzy’s, she smiled warmly at the young woman.

  “Bonjour,” she greeted in flawless French. Izzy felt the other two women look her way, and as subtly as she could, she tried to swallow her nervousness. “My name is Marion,” she said, her accent thick. “You have had all of us worried here. Please. You should sit.” She swept her arm gracefully at the empty chair to her right, and looked at her with a kind gaze of expectancy.

  Izzy hesitated for a moment, but nodded a couple of times and took the offered seat. She smiled humbly, and blinked a couple of times before looking at Marion. She was exquisite. “I,” she said, and blushed, her voice croaking. “I’m Isabelle, but you can call me Izzy.”

  “Oh, I know,” Marion said as she looked at Izzy with the same smile on her face. “Johnny has told me so much about you.”

  “All good things, I hope,” Izzy mumbled, a light pink caress touching the tips of her cheeks. She folded her arms on the surface of the table as a soft smile touched her lips.

  “Ah, oui,” Marion assured the young woman, nodding her head a couple of times. “He never mentioned the way you speak, though. Very different. Where are you from?”