“I quite prefer the way you are,” he’d murmured.
Their gazes had lingered on each other for a telling moment before she cleared her throat and broke the moment by crossing her eyes. “I could even be daft!”
“She’s acting,” he whispered, biting back a grin when he figured it out.
“What’s that?” Charles said.
Thomas shook his head and watched Rose with well-hidden amusement. She was acting like one of the characters from her books, and it was keeping her out of the brothel. It would not keep her untouched for long once she was sold, though.
“Anyone set to outbid Big Devil and his rats?” Blackbeard called out. He stroked his beard and considered the crowd. “Anyone?”
Thomas’s gut clenched at the idea of Big Devil getting his meaty paws anywhere near her but knew the moment Blackbeard uttered the question, nobody would dare outbid the vicious pirate. With a bulging belly to match his flabby jowls, Big Devil was notorious for two things.
Demented cruelty and excessive drinking.
If he weren’t daunting enough, his crew known as the rats were named appropriately. More filthy than most, they were Big Devil’s eyes and ears, infesting darkened corners most would not go. Even worse, known for their ability to sniff out opportunity.
Not good when he and Luke needed to get the sisters out of here discreetly.
“Sold,” Blackbeard declared. He gestured at his man to collect payment and then handed her over. “She’s all yours Big Devil.”
“Of all the bloody luck,” Luke muttered, eyeing Big Devil and his rats.
Thomas watched Rose until she was out of sight then gestured that they follow him back to the tavern.
“Big Devil’s a lucky man,” Thomas said, talking in code, telling Charles and Luke they would proceed forward as planned. ‘Luck’ meant he still saw it as the best course of action.
Luke grinned at Charles. “We will have to celebrate with him tonight!”
That meant Charles would buy Big Devil plenty of rum and get him as drunk as possible. Anything to buy Thomas and Luke time. The key was not only to get the sisters out of here but to do so without anyone knowing who took them.
They would get the sisters, rendezvous at their holding where one of their ships would be waiting, and then go from there. Though more of an oversized shanty, their holding suited him and his brother when they were here. It also had the added benefit of being located on a more secluded part of the island. They were set to sail the following morning anyway, so their absence should go relatively unnoticed.
“Ah, smells good.” A pirate inhaled the scent of a woman’s undergarments from one of the sisters’ trunks. “Somebody’s gettin’ their money’s worth with those two.”
“There are bound to be plenty of baubles in there,” one of Big Devil's rats grunted, peering inside with beady, cunning eyes.
“Hey, ain’t ye part of their crew?” someone called out to the rat. “Seen ‘em safely into Blackbeard’s hands?” He half snorted, half chuckled. “Such as that is.”
Naturally, Big Devil would have had a man keeping an eye on things. No doubt with Blackbeard's permission as the two seemed to get along well enough. Thomas and Luke glanced at each other before his brother downed some rum and nonchalantly began rummaging through the trunk as well.
“Aye, I was part of the crew,” the rat confirmed, still eyeing the contents, not overly interested by most of what men were making off with. Yet he was quick to take notice when Luke looted one of several scrolls with an all-too-familiar seal on it. Bloody hell. Luckily no one here recognized their family crest.
“Blackbeard said all is to be spread a little more evenly,” a man declared upon entering. He and another shut the trunk before anything else was taken and hauled it out of there.
Meanwhile, Charles snapped his fingers in front of Luke’s face, trying to pull him out of his stupor. Namely, the faraway look in his eyes as he read the letter. “Are ye with us, friend?”
Luke blinked several times and nodded then waved over some more rum. “Just thirsty is all.”
Thirsty his arse. Where Thomas had exchanged a few letters with Rose after he left years ago, their correspondences by no means matched the number of scrolls he’d spied in that trunk.
“You wrote Hannah?” he nearly muttered when he saw the handwriting and to whom it was addressed. Luke. He knew as he’d done with Rose that his brother had found ways to keep an eye on Hannah over the years but had no idea they’d corresponded.
“What’s it say?” someone called out.
Luke squinted at the letter and shook his head before he shrugged and tossed it aside. “Can’t make out a bloody word.”
He’d certainly made out every word but played his part well. Unfortunately, the warning look he shot Thomas a short while later told him something unforeseen had happened. Whatever those scrolls had said made their plan a whole lot riskier. Especially considering, having sniffed out an opportunity, Big Devil's rat had followed in the wake of that trunk.
Chapter Two
THE MOMENT ‘BIG DEVIL’S’ minion left, Rose leaned her head back against the cage she’d been shoved into and bit back a sob. Then another. Then one more before tears finally fell. She clenched the bauble she had managed to keep hidden and prayed for strength.
She had sworn she would not do this, that she would remain a character from her book as Hannah advised, but it was much harder than one would think. Especially considering the sheer terror she’d felt since she and her sister were taken. She was tossed over one shoulder and her sister another until they were plunked down in a skiff and brought ashore.
Hannah being Hannah, hardly remained quiet the whole way, telling them precisely what she thought of their predicament. When that did no good, she promptly began bartering for Rose’s safety. That, of course, was the last thing on these barbarian’s minds, so Rose continued playing dumb. Literally. As daft as a poor fool in one of her latest books.
Yet she wished she had played a more courageous part.
That she had fought for Hannah as her sister had done for her.
In truth, she nearly had, and Hannah knew it.
“Do not do it, Sister,” she had warned Rose on a hissing whisper. “Play your part and survive.”
While she understood the logic, it was the hardest thing she had ever done. Almost more than she was capable of when Hannah was dragged away. Her head might have been held high, but pride did little for the ultimate fate her sister faced in the brothel. Then again, it seemed their fates weren’t all that different in the end.
Both were at the mercy of monsters.
“Control yourself, Rose,” she whispered into the darkness, trying for calm when she felt only fear. “What good will tears do you?”
She rolled her shoulders and tried to make things out, but it was so blasted dark her eyes weren’t adjusting. Therefore, paying attention to details coming in so, she could get out had been a moot point. She had listened though and heard the snap of a padlock on her cage door.
Best to start there.
She felt around until she put her hands on it. Embracing the persona of a stealthy spy, she pulled a pin from her hair and started fiddling with the lock. And fiddling. Then fiddling some more. They made it sound so easy in her books, but nothing seemed to be happening.
“It’s not quite as easy as that,” came a voice from her past. “You have to move it just right.”
She blinked, not overly surprised she’d think of him right now.
That he would be her voice of reason.
“Right,” she muttered, recalling how he had bent her hairpin just so and showed her. “Usually, if you turn it slowly, you will find the catch and free it.”
So Rose did as he had said, and by the Lord's almighty grace, it unlocked. She nearly whooped with joy but instead flew from the cage only to run smack into someone. Before she could scream, a strong hand clamped over her mouth, and she was pulled against a hard body. If
that weren’t jarring enough, the voice in her head actually spoke, British accent and all.
“Shh, Rose, it’s me,” he whispered. “Thomas.”
Thomas? Truly?
It could not be.
She must be going mad.
When she struggled, he gripped her tighter. “It is me, Rose. We met in Yorktown when we were ten, shared our first kiss beneath the old oak at fourteen, and were secretly betrothed by sixteen.”
She froze, stunned.
It really was Thomas.
“My quartermaster can only keep your captor off for so long,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek, his scent not all that different than it had been in their youth. Spicy and masculine.
“We must go.” He paused. “Do you trust me? Can I remove my hand?”
She barely heard him over her pounding heart but nodded.
“Thomas?” she gasped the moment he removed his hand. She tried to see him in the dark but had no luck. “I don’t understand. How are you here?”
“I will explain later,” he said gruffly. “Once I get you to safety.” He put a finger to her lips, evidently seeing more clearly than her. “Until then, you must be quiet.”
“All right,” she whispered against his finger, trying to gather her thoughts. Trying to make sense of him being here. Real. Not lost to her as she thought he was.
“Big Devil has men posted out front, so we will have to go another way.” He pulled her after him through an exit hidden behind a tapestry of some sort based on the scratchy material. Though she could see a little better outside, she was still unable to make out his features as they traveled down a narrow set of stairs to a dark pathway between buildings. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rumbled.
“We need to get my sister,” she whispered. “They have her too.”
“We know,” he whispered back. “We’re getting her.”
They zigzagged in and out of several dark alleyways before he yanked her between two buildings right before several men rushed by heading in the direction they had just come. It was impossible to make out their frantic hushed words until a man behind them talked a little louder.
“Big Devil will have our hide if we don’t have her ready to talk quick-like,” he grumbled. “His rum ain’t going to last long.”
“He’ll be rewardin’ us not punishin’ us after he talks to her,” another assured, in swift pursuit. “After all, it was our quick thinkin’ that followed those scrolls and learned what we did.”
“Bloody hell,” Thomas whispered. He shifted in the darkness as though seeing if that was the last of them then pulled Rose after him. They continued between buildings before they left everything behind and made their way through trees. The ocean crashed nearby, but she couldn’t actually see it. Warm wind gusted, and a heavy raindrop hit her cheek.
Though tempted to speak, she sensed silence was best until Thomas said otherwise. As it turned out, that was a short time later when they broke free of the vegetation and came upon a small stone dwelling near the shore. Free of the trees and cloying darkness, she finally got a few glimpses of him in the lightning flashes.
A man who by no means looked like the boy from her youth.
If possible, he seemed even taller than the last time she saw him, his shoulders broader, his dark brown hair longer, now interwoven with small braids and beads. He wore a waistcoat, black breeches, and black boots with several weapons tucked on his person.
“Are you a...” she stuttered, barely able to get the word out, hardly believing it.
“Yes, Rose, I’m a pirate.” Thomas nodded at a short, wiry man who melted out of the darkness. “This is my quartermaster, Charles.” He glanced in the direction of the town then looked at Charles. “Did he get her then?”
“He got her,” he grunted moments before her sister appeared out of the night.
“Hannah,” she cried when her sister embraced her. “I am so glad you are well, Sister.”
“I told you I would be.”
She had said no such thing.
“How are you, Rose?” Hannah squeezed her waist then shoulders in concern. “Are you well? Did they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she assured. “You?”
“Well enough,” her sister replied, her voice a little hoarse. “Just muddling through.”
Muddling through? “I dare say this is a bit more than that!”
“That would depend on who your hero is,” Hannah muttered, uncharacteristically flustered.
“They’re scoutin’ the shoreline, Cap'n,” a pirate reported to Thomas.
“Aye, then?” Thomas replied. “You’re sure?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Lookin’ for any fool ship departing in this weather.”
Thomas murmured something to the pirate she couldn’t make out before the man rushed off.
“I will see you soon, Sister.” Hannah squeezed her hand. “Until then, stay safe.”
Dread kicked her pulse up a notch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we have to split up for now. We will be far safer that way.” She embraced Rose one more time. “I will see you soon, all right?”
“But...but—”
“No buts.” Hannah met her eyes and spoke with confidence. “We have to shake the beasts on our tail then we will regroup.” She nodded hello to Thomas and narrowed her eyes in warning. “You best take good care of her.”
Then she was gone, fled into the night.
Rose had no chance to stop Hannah before Thomas scooped her up and plunked her in a skiff, saying nothing more than, “I will explain once we board my ship.”
His ship? She peered out at the sea and spied an impressive brigantine seen only by lightning flashes. Unfortunately, the waters grew rougher with the incoming storm, and her stomach flipped several times over on the short row. By the time they were aboard, she imagined she was rather green.
Thomas evidently understood her plight because he urged her to sit once they reached his cabin. From what she could see between lightning flashes, he mixed powder with something he poured into a mug. He handed it over and urged her to drink. “It will settle your stomach.”
She flinched at its oddly pungent spicy aroma. “What is this?”
“A ginger concoction.” He sat behind his desk without lighting a candle. “Drink it down, Rose.”
Like her sister, he had a tone she’d always instinctually listened to. Probably because at one time, she had trusted him as much as Hannah. Yet now he was a pirate and undoubtedly not to be trusted.
“If I wanted you dead, I would not have saved you,” he pointed out, seeing her hesitation.
“Dead?” Actually, the thought had not crossed her mind, but it certainly did now. “I was thinking more along the lines that you were drugging me.”
His brow swept up. “Why would I want to drug you?”
“Well, I don't know.” Yet a couple of theories popped into her head straight away. “Perhaps you intend to sell me off to someone else and need to keep me quiet until then. Or,” though she shouldn’t give him any ideas, the words rolled right off her tongue, “perhaps you intend to have your way with me and would rather I not put up a fight.”
“It seems the sort of literature you read has changed considerably since last we saw each other.” He eyed her with amusement. The light layer of stubble on his chiseled face made him look roguish. “Rest assured, my dear, I do not intend to sell you off. Nor,” she swore a devious twinkle lit his pale green eyes, “would I need to drug you to have my way with you.”
“So you would force me then?” she blurted.
“No, darling,” he said softly, a sultry arrogance to his voice. “You would come quite willingly, I'm sure.”
“Dear heavens,” she whispered, wide-eyed, unsure what to make of him now. He left her in a flustered state similar to but not quite the same as the gallant lad from her youth. It was a more dangerous state fueled by the dark promise in his eyes. A feeling of overwhelming heat. A bl
ossoming ache between her thighs. “You really have changed, haven’t you?
“Just drink, Rose.” His steady gaze never left her. Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, and wind howled. Waves tossed the ship about precariously. “You will feel much better once you do.”
Queasier by the moment, she eyed the liquid then him, wanting to see him better lest she need to flee. It was unlikely she would get far drugged, let alone on a ship already at sea, but it would make her feel better. “Might you light a candle?”
“No,” he said. “We must not draw any attention to the ship.” His gaze softened, and a bit of the Thomas she once knew surfaced. “I will not hurt you, love. You have my word.”
“The word of a pirate,” she murmured.
“The word of an old friend.”
“I recall us being a tad more than that,” she whispered, pressing her lips together against a wash of emotion. Against old anger and hurt.
“I recall the same.” It seemed a similar pain flashed in his eyes, but it must have been her imagination or perhaps a play on light through the window. Because surely he cared nothing for her. How could he after what he had done?
More so what he never did.
Setting aside heartache for frustration, and a pressing need to quell her nausea, she finally drank the foul concoction. Thomas watched her with an unreadable expression. What was he thinking? Did he recall their many times together? Or were they not worth remembering? Clearly, he recalled proposing to her. His promise. But then maybe not based on his actions since.
“How are you feeling now?” he eventually murmured. “Is your stomach better?”
Surprisingly, it was. “Yes, actually...thank you.”
When he offered a small smile, she almost smiled in return but held back, unsure if happiness, better yet, a sense of security in general, was warranted just yet. As it were, she had been taken by yet another pirate. By him. “Why are you here?” She shook her head. “The last I knew you were in the Royal Navy.”
She remembered all-too-well the day he had sailed off to war. How terrified she’d been for him. The British were fighting the French for possession of the continent. Battling that would take him from the Carolina coastline to the New England frontier. She had hoped he would ultimately be stationed in Yorktown, a place just as much at risk from French attacks and Indians alike, but he was not.
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