by Tamara Gill
“It’ll burn.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “But then, you already knew that.”
She had, yet a tiny part of her hoped he’d change his mind. “You cannot.” Sarah clutched his arm. “There are men still alive on that ship.”
He shook her off. “This is not your affair.”
“That may be. However, you cannot deliberately and in good conscience murder them.” How could he be so heartless when not hours before he’d been so compassionate?
Adrian swung around. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger then yanked her chin upward. She had no choice but to receive his gaze. “This is what pirates do, Miss Covington. We have no use for the ship or its crew, and we cannot leave it operational for another. It isn’t a personal affront. It is merely a business decision. End of story.”
“It’s murder.”
“Aye, that it is. Piracy is hardly a tea party.” He said nothing else. Neither did she. What else was there to say? He wouldn’t change his mind.
Sarah wrenched from his hold to concentrate on the tableau before her. The last of the Lady Catherine’s crew returned to the deck. A few men remained on the Casabianca. They gathered textiles in big piles—sails, ropes, packing crates, whatever they could carry—evenly spaced in three sections along the deck. Flints were struck. Showers of sparks caught on wads of tender the men held. Once they lit into balls of fire, much like a magic trick in the men’s hands, they dropped the flaming tender to the piles. Orange flames slowly licked the debris, devouring the sails first.
The three men returned to the Lady Catherine’s deck. All around the crew, barrels, crates, boxes and bags littered the waist. The gangplanks were drawn back onboard. Little Jim gestured to Adrian.
“Report!” His demand startled her and she jumped, unable to tear her gaze away from the fires. Thoughts for the crew stranded in the hold chased through her head.
“Cargo aboard. Gunpowder spread through all ‘er decks. Once the fire catches, our Frenchie friends will be in Davy Jones’s locker, Cap’n.”
“No.” Her whispered protest was lost under a unified cheer from the crew. Bile rose in her throat. Her pulse pounded in her temples. He actually intended to carry out his threat. There’d be no pardon at the last second.
“Very good.” Adrian nodded. “Put the cargo in the hold and secure it. Elmwood, move us out of blast range. You have all earned one day’s leave.”
A ragged shout of victory went up from the crew. The men in steering yelled confirmation of the orders or of the imminent leave. Sarah had no idea of which. Moments later the Lady Catherine veered to port and pulled away from the wounded ship. Waves slapped against the sides of the vessel, but the rhythmic thumps did little to calm her nerves.
She grabbed onto Adrian’s sleeve again, compelled to make him see reason. “Adrian—Captain Westerbrooke—no! You cannot do this!” She tugged on his arm. Fire blazed over the deck of the French ship, catching on the gunpowder. Hungry flames licked over the planking and climbed the masts, steadily engulfing the dry tender. “Those men are innocent. You’ve sentenced them to an unfair death.”
“And what would your idea of a fair death be?” Adrian glared at her. “They would have done the same to us had we not gotten the upper hand. Every death has meaning, even if you choose not to see it.” His expression turned dark and angry, his eyes shooting blue lightning.
“It’s wrong.”
“I don’t care how you need to square it with yourself, but this is life onboard my vessel, or any other for that matter. There is no soul involved. No morals to fall back on to make you feel better. No way to justify it.” He narrowed his eyes. “On the sea, the only rule is survival, and in piracy even more so. This life is raw. It’s dirty, and it’s vital. We kill them before they kill us. We barter and trade our ill-gotten gain. It’s commerce. It gives us a place in the world and a purpose. Understand?”
Before she had a chance to reply, multiple explosions rocked the sea. The Lady Catherine bobbed violently. As much as she wanted to distance herself from him for his mindset and orders, she held onto Adrian’s arm until the ship leveled out and she regained level footing. “Bastard.”
He detached her fingers from his sleeve as calmly as if she were a mere insect who’d happened by. “Aye, I am, and I won’t apologize for it.”
Sarah watched the fire-engulfed ship reflected in Adrian’s eyes. Tears choked her throat. Her insides quivered with her imminent hysterical reaction. She swallowed the urge to break down in front of him. The differences between them were separated by a chasm too wide to bridge. How could a caring God allow something like this happen? “I’m sorry I ever met you.” Acrid smoke filled the air and drifted over the deck. It swirled around him and gave him an air of mystery as well as added a shroud of coldness that proclaimed him the pirate captain he truly was. That unfeeling, harsh man terrified her. “When we arrive at port, I intend to leave you and this ship. You can go to hell for all I care.”
*****
Off the coast of Bermuda, December 28th, 1814
Sarah sat motionless in the longboat as it glided across the choppy sea toward shore. Adrian hadn’t bothered to see her off or dissuade her from leaving nor had she spotted him about deck before her departure. Why should he care about her when he’d obviously felt nothing for the lives of the men he’d ordered killed? The three men in the boat with her said nothing, not even to one another. All sported cuts and bruises from the recent skirmish. All seemed to want to reflect on their own troubles.
Or perhaps not. Maybe they were all as soulless as their captain. She hoped they weren’t plotting her demise—or worse. Not that anything—even sexual relations with these roughnecks—could be worse than death. Her cheek throbbed from the blow she’d received from the Frenchman. She pressed a hand to her face as she contemplated her current situation. She’d given her virtue to a pirate, and now she was fleeing into the unknown, away from the relative security of the ship. Where would she go? What would she do? Was the fate waiting for her worse than the one she ran from? She didn’t know and was too tired to think on it anymore. Her life had grown into a bramble patch with no easy way to begin untangling it.
Bermuda’s white sand beaches, kissed by the turquoise blue water of the ocean, twinkled in the midday sun. She closed her heart to the idyllic place. This wasn’t a holiday. It wasn’t a time to enjoy the scenery or walk through what would likely be a sleepy, charming area full of romance and adventure. I’ve had enough adventure for a while, thank you. Reaching the town of St. George’s meant the raising of a figurative standard, a notice to both herself and Adrian that she couldn’t condone his actions.
As if I ever had a choice. Everything that had happened aboard the Lady Catherine had been at his command, at his order. He was as stubborn as they came and had enough fortitude to wear mere mortals down until they came around to his way of thinking from sheer exhaustion. She glowered back at the hulking ship, now a mile or so off her present location. Damn man.
In the end, Sarah suspected the choice did belong to her. Just as stubborn if not as imposing as Adrian, if she voiced her opinion regarding certain things, they’d be hers. She stifled a sigh. What she really wanted was for him to listen to her opinion and ideals, give them a bit of thought before dismissing them out of hand. Did he not understand how to relate to women outside the bedroom? Shading her eyes with a hand, she kept her focus on the horizon. Ah, there was the rub. She desired a man who wanted her beyond a relief for carnal urges. All her life men had used her for their own interests and Adrian was no different. Did he value her as a person, as a woman, or even as a potential member of his crew? If so, why didn’t he tell her? Was it too much to hope he’d show a hint of the gentleman she suspected he used to be?
Her snort drew the attention of one of the pirates. She stared at him until he looked away. Don’t be silly, Sarah. There’s no such thing as civility on a pirate crew. She frowned as the knowledge sank in. She’d chosen this life. Now she
’d either have to abide by it or leave it for the unknown. What was the lesser of the two evils?
The island came closer, yet her thoughts grew more scattered. She stared at the clear water lapping along the sides of the longboat. Schools of silvery fish darted around the boat then dove to play amidst the coral reef below. She wished life were as easy as frolicking in the waves. Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to the night before, when she’d come to know the gentler Adrian, saw the side of him he probably didn’t show in front of his crew. Heat crawled over her skin as she remembered every detail of his intimate caresses, the intricacies of their joining. How could he be that man one minute then fall back into the cold, cruel captain the next? Two completely different halves of the whole, neither less important.
Her chest tightened while the knots in her stomach twisted. Of course, when she’d accused him of being a murderer, she’d failed to realize she was little better than the same. Killing the priest had been an accident and one she might have been pardoned for had she been brought before a magistrate regardless of the pirate’s claim to the contrary. Yet killing the Frenchman had been a cold, calculated act. If she held to the sermon she’d given Adrian, she could have found another way around the situation, perhaps even asked to negotiate with the sailor instead of ending his life, but she hadn’t. What was more, he’d been running away from her when she’d thrown the dagger into his back. He’d never had a chance. The only difference between those acts was she felt remorse and disgust when the priest died. For the Frenchman, she’d felt… pride of self and maybe a bit of victory. Perhaps she was just as horrid as the pirate’s creed she said she abhorred.
Whether a person put twenty men to death or two, there was no difference between them.
Dear God, I think I may be more suited to pirate life than I first thought.
She bit back a sob and the choked sound blended with the breeze. Fate was cruel and surprising by turns. She could do nothing except go where it took her. Adrian didn’t need to abide by her opinions. She didn’t need to follow his dictates, but somehow there had to be a way to compromise. Pirates by their own admission followed no rules. Why couldn’t Adrian modify some of his? As the captain, they’d be followed the same as any. Why couldn’t he and she agree to disagree and be content with that?
The boat lurched as it reached the shore. One of the sailors jumped out and pulled it more firmly onto the sand. She’d become lost in a morass of morals, integrity and desire from which there was no easy way out, and what was more, she didn’t know if she wanted to go back to the woman she used to be.
Perhaps, after everything, it was impossible to return.
Sarah roused herself from her thoughts with grim acceptance of herself, of piracy and of Adrian. The two halves of his personality were too potent for one person—one woman—to weather. I’m not strong enough. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be running. That disappointed her the most. The silly, romantic side had hoped she would have made an impression, at the very least a difference in his life. No matter. Finding her way back to America from St. George’s was the best course of action. She would leave the pirate captain in her past and start over—again.
If he cannot treat me with the same respect he demands, I…
Her thoughts trickled away as a few masculine snatches of conversation filtered into her brain. She glanced in the direction of the voices. A thousand butterflies took flight in her stomach as she peered with a dropped jaw at the reception party on shore. He stood there, bigger than life, his arms crossed at his chest, his eyes hooded and dark, and he stared straight at her.
“Miss Covington, how wonderful of you to join me, since our business is far from concluded.”
Gooseflesh spread over her skin. The crewmen exchanged coarse guffaws and vulgar suggestions, but she ignored them in order to focus on Adrian. “I want nothing to do with you.”
Oh, but how untrue that was. Even now, the urge to touch him one last time and plead for him to understand her perspective burned as strong as a bonfire. He’d unlocked a hidden piece of her soul, made her stretch to see herself in a different light, but was it enough? If she could only reach him in the place he’d hidden deep down from the world, they might come to an understanding. Perhaps it was an impossible endeavor, but she hated herself for wanting to try just the same. If she felt he was worth her effort, why couldn’t he give her the same benefit?
He was the devil. He was too dangerous and unyielding. He—
“I beg to differ.” He stepped easily into the longboat, now empty of all other pirates, and leaned over her. He smelled of the sea, sweat, power—and desire. Without breaking eye contact, he barked out, “Enjoy the town boys. Miss Covington and I are returning to the Lady Catherine. I expect to see you back onboard by high tide tomorrow with fresh water and any other foodstuffs you can secure.”
Chapter Seven
Adrian sat across from Sarah, commandeered the oars then gave the go ahead for one of his men to push them into the water. As soon as the boat cleared the sand, he applied himself to the task of rowing toward the Lady Catherine. Except doing so with Sarah sitting so close to him, irritation fairly simmering off her skin, proved to be a challenge. “Is there something you would like to say? I’d advise you to do it now, for once we reach the ship, my method of communication will not involve words.”
That gained him a glare that would strike fear into the hearts of lesser men. Adrian returned her glare with his own grin. A blush crept into her cheeks. Dealing with Sarah, while a prickly occupation, made him feel alive and vital in a way that commanding a ship never could. It was the exact reason he’d waited for her on Bermuda’s shores.
When she’d cursed him to the devil on the ship, he realized he’d grown accustomed to having her around, making his life hell in a way only a woman could. He also suspected she ran to gain his attention, not his ire. That had prompted a plan. He’d leave the Lady Catherine for one of the first longboats as she fumed in her cabin, thus ensuring he arrived on the island well ahead of her. He’d meet her, soothe her ruffled feathers and show her in no uncertain terms she indeed had his notice.
His gamble had paid off. He’d seen the desire that had sprung into her eyes when she discovered him waiting for her. They were well-matched in temperament. He merely needed to wait her out.
The keening screech of a gull overhead yanked him from his thoughts. He set his gaze on the stubborn tilt of Sarah’s chin, realizing she hadn’t answered him. “Ah, you want to pass the time continuing to wish me to the devil. I am well familiar with the attitude.” He lifted the oars then let them cut the water in long, even strokes. The longboat slid through the smallish waves with little resistance. They’d gain the ship in record time. Perhaps he was merely determined to go another round with his spitfire.
“I fear the devil would reject you on principle.” Her glare didn’t lessen in intensity.
Adrian grinned. “Aye, he would at that.” He watched her as he worked the oars. Silly woman. Why wouldn’t she just acknowledge her need instead of retreating into ire? “I apologize if you wished to visit the town. My desire to have you all to myself trumps a tourist whim.”
“If you were truly sorry, you would not have kidnapped me yet again.” She turned her face away, giving him ample time to study her in profile. Flushed cheeks, wind-blown hair, lightly tanned skin all proclaimed a health and vitality she didn’t have when he’d first met her. “Did you plan this escapade, or did you take advantage of the situation?”
He’d have to tread carefully with her. “The first time I kidnapped you was a crime of opportunity, I cannot lie. The kiss we shared intrigued me. I wanted to know more if only for the chance to own your body.” He couldn’t help the truth. “The second abduction I planned as soon as you stated you’d leave my ship.”
“Why? What difference does it make if I escape? There are no doubt a dozen women who can replace me in your bed if that’s all you’re searching for.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not inter
ested in replacing you.” Sarah fascinated him beyond the bedroom. None of his former paramours had been able to achieve that feat. He admired her spirit. No longer did he wish to break it. He wished to see how far she’d bend before she’d come back and counter him.
Warmth infused his chest. The urge to compromise shocked him. Never had he considered it, not in business dealings and certainly not where females were concerned. When she didn’t question or comment on his statement, annoyance burned through his gut. “I would have thought you’d be grateful I took the time to wait for you, and make sure you were protected. St. George’s town, though quaint and calming in the daylight hours, can be a rowdy place after dark, even without the pirates.”
“I can handle myself as you well know.” She glanced at him again, her eyes glittering, her hands clasped in her lap, like a supplicant seeking the will of God, much as he’d observed her in the hold days ago.
“I do, and I appreciate the fact you do not drop into hysterics at every little thing.” He racked his brain to find a topic that would return her to good humor or at the very least an argumentative state. If she’d cross words with him, he could coerce her into an aroused mood. He loved that she gave as good as she got instead of agreeing with him on every little thing. Yet if she reached an excited state, they’d find common ground. In bed, in his arms, she’d been eager to learn, harmless as a kitten, willing to please him and receive pleasure, but her non-committal answers now made any sort of conversation difficult. “Perhaps you should pray for my soul. If you truly believe every act of piracy I’ve committed is against God and His dictates, you shouldn’t lose valuable time.”
“Why?” At least she looked directly at him now. That was something.
“On the morrow, we begin the voyage to the Caribbean in search of a Spanish merchant ship. If the winds are favorable, it could take just shy of three weeks; if not, that time could double. Personally, I’m hoping for a swift trip as there is little worse than being stranded due to calm winds.” Plus, if he wasn’t successful in securing her promise to remain on the Lady Catherine, those long days would be brutal with nothing to pass the time except thinking and second-guessing.
