To Catch a Pirate

by Jade Parker

  He narrowed his eyes, as though he didn’t trust her. She suspected pirates trusted no one.

  “Why offer me something of value for something with none?” the pirate asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

  “The pendant was my mother’s. She died recently, and it’s all I have left to remember her by.”

  “The pirate way is to take the finger when we take the ring. If you want to keep your lovely hand whole, you’ll have to give me something else of value.”

  Annalisa swallowed hard at the thought of losing her finger, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “I have nothing else.”

  He grinned. A grin more terrifying than his eyes or his dagger. “Oh, but I think you do.”

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GLOSSARY OF PIRATING TERMS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  Annalisa Townsend didn’t know which terrified her more: the razor-sharp edge of the dagger pressed against her throat or the ruthless glare of the pirate who’d shoved her against the wall with the harsh words, “Hold your tongue or I’ll remove it.”

  The glare, she decided. It belonged to a young man she sensed was not familiar with mercy, given or received. He was breathing heavily, having run down the stairs into the ship’s hold only seconds earlier.

  A thin diagonal scar marred his right cheek. While it failed to detract from what might have been a devilishly handsome face in a London ballroom, here in the open waters of the Caribbean it served to create the most frightening visage she’d ever encountered.

  The young man had covered his head with a dark red scarf; his midnight black hair — unfashionably long, although she doubted he cared one whit about fashion — curled along his shoulders. A small gold ring through the lobe of his left ear winked at her whenever it caught the light drifting down from the opening at the top of the stairs. The simple jewelry somehow made him appear all the more menacing.

  She didn’t think he was much older than her sixteen years, but his dark green eyes were far more ancient and revealed a life that had known little except hardship. In spite of the sweltering heat, chills erupted along her skin and caused her to shiver. She knew compassion was not in his nature. He was as ruthless as the barbaric pirates who’d attacked the ship.

  He was, after all, one of them.

  Annalisa had been traveling on the Horizon with her father. King George had assigned him the governorship of Mourning, a small, little-known island in the Caribbean. She’d thought the assignment appropriate since she and her father were still reeling from the recent unexpected death of her mother, who had succumbed to the fever. Annalisa was grateful to have an excuse to leave behind England and the sorrowful memories of losing her mother.

  She’d been looking forward to this adventure. She’d never before traveled on the sea, and found it thrilling. She began to fall in love with the balmy sea air as they drew closer to her new home. She cherished the fact that it didn’t smell of illness or death. When she breathed it in deeply, she found a measure of peace.

  But that was before the pirates had attacked.

  She couldn’t help but think their ship, Phantom Mist, was appropriately named; it had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Unlike the familiar black flag flown by most pirate ships, a red one waved atop this one. Annalisa had overheard the crew talking in low voices with obvious dread. A red flag signaled no mercy would be asked for, and none would be given.

  From all accounts, the pirates’ captain, Crimson Kelly, was as ruthless a man as ever sailed the high seas. It was debated whether his name came from his flaming red hair and beard or from his ghastly penchant for filling his wine goblet with blood drained from his victims.

  When Horizon’s captain had announced they were too weighted down with cargo to escape the rapidly approaching ship, Annalisa’s father ordered her to hide in the cargo hold. She’d wanted to defy him, but she’d known she would be no help during the battle. She knew only that the pointy end of the cutlass was the dangerous end.

  So she’d scurried into the hold, located a nearly empty crate, and crawled inside, pulling the top over her. But hidden in the darkness, hearing the booming of cannons, the crack of splintering wood, and the ringing of clashing steel rage above her, not knowing about her father’s fate became too much to bear. Leaving the safety of the crate, she’d been creeping toward the stairs when the young pirate came barreling down them.

  She’d barely had time to turn before he grabbed her and pinned her against the wall.

  Now, the distant sound of battle settled into an ominous hush. A heartbeat later, yells of triumph echoed. Annalisa knew the fighting was over. Her heart sank with the knowledge. The pirates had won. All that remained was the pillaging, the looting, the destroying. She heard the thuds, the crashes as the plundering began. All would be torn asunder.

  And what of her father? Had they killed him? She had to know. If he was alive she wanted to feel his arms around her. And if he was dead or dying she wanted to wrap her arms around him, to offer what little comfort she could.

  “Please —” she began.

  “Silence. I’ll not say it again. Hold your tongue or lose it.”

  She was surprised by his accent. British, to be sure, but more refined than she’d expected. The voice of one destined to be a gentleman. What role had fate played in turning him into a pirate? She felt ashamed to be intrigued by the circumstances that had shaped him. He was a blackguard. All she should want was to be free of him.

  Slowly, his gaze roamed over her face, almost as though he was trying to memorize it. Did they take women captives? Would they sell her into slavery? She’d heard of such things, but she didn’t know if anything could be worse than being wedged between the wall and him.

  His gaze dipped to the gold pendant that hung just below her throat. With his free hand, he slipped his fingers around it… .

  “No, please, I beg of you, have mercy, don’t take it,” she said quickly, desperately, overcoming her fear of his threats to cut out her tongue. “It’s only a cheap trinket.”

  His gaze shot up, his eyes boring into hers. “You dare defy me?”

  Swallowing hard, fighting back tears, she shook her head. “I only sought to explain.”

  “You don’t value your tongue?”

  “I value the necklace more.”

  Her answer seemed to surprise him.

  “Sterling!” a far-off voice shouted.

  The pirate’s attention darted toward the opening at the top of the stairs. Light drifted from above into the hold. She could see the concentration in his face. She thought she might even have a chance of escaping. But before she could take action, he shifted his gaze back to her, and he seemed more menacing than before. “I have to take something up or Crimson Kelly will be down here himself. He’ll take far more than your precious piece.”

  “Here,” she said, breathlessly, holding up her right hand, showing him the ring she wore on her third finger. “Take it. It’s got diamonds, much more valuable.”

  He narrowed his eyes as though he didn’t trust her. She suspected pirates trusted no one.

  “Why offer me something of greater value?” he asked, his vo
ice laced with suspicion.

  “The pendant was my mother’s. She died recently, and it’s all I have left to remember her by.”

  “You want to remember her?”

  It seemed an odd question.

  “Of course. Why would I not?”

  He looked on the verge of providing an answer before shaking his head and appearing to think better of it.

  “The pirate way is to take the finger when we take the ring. If you want to keep your lovely hand whole, you’ll have to give me something else of value.”

  She swallowed hard at the thought of losing her finger, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “I have nothing else.”

  He grinned. A grin more terrifying than his eyes or his dagger. “Oh, but I think you do.”

  Before she could protest, he lowered his head and kissed her. Hard. On the mouth. She’d never before been kissed like this. To her immense surprise, his lips were warm and eager. He tasted of … apples. Tart and sweet. She wondered if he’d been munching on one before the attack.

  Then the kiss grew more passionate, more demanding. Her toes curled. Her knees weakened, and she found herself clutching him, in fear of falling.

  For a moment, she almost forgot he was a pirate.

  “James Sterling! Where ye be, matey? If ye were careless enough to get yerself killed, I’ll be drinkin’ your blood with me supper tonight!”

  The pirate drew back, grabbed her hand, and yanked her ring from her finger. Chuckling as though he was privy to some immense joke, he stepped away from her, backing toward the stairs.

  “A fair trade, m’lady. I’m content with it.”

  Pressing her trembling hand to her moistened lips, she stared at him. His laughter abruptly ended, his expression turned solemn and harsh.

  “Now, hide until we’ve left,” he commanded.

  He turned on his heel and dashed up the stairs. “I’m here, Crimson! Nothing of value in the hold!”

  Somehow Annalisa made it back into the crate without her quivering legs giving out. Once inside and with the top pulled into place, she curled into a quivering ball. Tears burned her eyes. Had she just sealed her coffin?

  She flinched every time she heard a crash or a bang. And she prayed, prayed desperately, for salvation.

  She didn’t know how long she waited, but eventually she became aware of the silence. And it terrified her. What could it mean? Had the pirates left?

  She’d lifted the lid only a bit when she heard footsteps thundering down the stairs.

  “Miss Townsend! Miss Townsend!”

  She recognized the voice. Nathaniel Northrup. One of the younger officers. He was undeniably handsome, with curling blond hair and brown eyes. Although he seldom spoke to her, several times she’d caught him watching her from afar when she was strolling about the deck.

  “Here! I’m here!” she shouted.

  She was pushing back the top when suddenly it was thrown off and Mr. Northrup was staring down at her, his expression serious. His clothing and face were streaked with blood.

  “Your father sent me to fetch you,” he told her as he helped her clamber out.

  Immense relief swept through her. “Oh, thank goodness. Is he all right?”

  “He’s hurt but alive. We’re abandoning ship.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the pirates set it afire. Come, we must hurry!”

  He grabbed her hand. His legs were longer than hers, and she had a difficult time keeping up with his frantic pace as he tugged her up the stairs. When they reached the top, she thought she might be sick. Mangled bodies littered the deck.

  “Don’t look,” Nathaniel ordered.

  How could she not? If she didn’t, she’d trip over them.

  He urged her across the deck, to where Captain Hawthorne was standing. “I’m glad to see you’re safe, Miss Townsend,” he said. “Your father’s waiting.”

  Looking over the side of the ship, she saw the longboat. It was one of four that had already been lowered into the water. Her father and several crewmen were sitting in it as it bobbed on the sea.

  “How do I get down there?” she asked.

  “You just climb down Jacob’s ladder,” Captain Hawthorne said, lifting a rope ladder and letting it drop back against the side. “Mr. Northrup will go first, then you, soon enough after him so he’s there to prevent you from falling. I’ll follow once you’re safely in the boat. Over the side now, lad. Hurry. The longboat must get away before the ship sinks or it’s in danger of being pulled under.”

  Annalisa watched as Nathaniel Northrup climbed over the side of the ship, holding firm to the ladder, waiting for her to join him. The captain helped her climb over the side to join Nathaniel.

  It was awkward with him so near, but his presence also gave her the confidence to step down quickly. When they were close enough to the longboat, hanging on with one hand, he swung himself to the side, guiding her as other hands took hold of her and helped her into the boat. When she finally settled in beside her father, she wound her arms around him.

  “You’re safe,” she whispered brokenly. “Thank goodness, you’re safe.”

  “They took the ivory chest, Anna. The one King George entrusted to me. His Majesty won’t think well of me for letting it be taken.”

  She knew gold coins that were to be used to build a splendid palace and fort on Mourning had been stored inside. Mourning was a newly acquired island, and King George had plans for it to be the jewel of the Caribbean. The king had suggested that British men-of-war accompany the Horizon. But her father had argued against it. He thought an escort would alert pirates that he was carrying something precious. He didn’t want them sacking Mourning before he’d even begun to build its first township.

  Annalisa pulled back. “What choice did you have? Surely he’ll understand, Father.”

  But her father didn’t seem to be listening. He stared straight ahead as though witnessing something horrible.

  The boat rocked as Captain Hawthorne boarded it. “Let’s be off, men!” he shouted. “Row handsomely now!”

  The crewmen began rowing. It was only then that Annalisa noticed Nathaniel sitting across from her. It took all her strength to give him a shaky smile.

  “You’re trembling,” he said.

  “I’m freezing. Isn’t that s-s-silly?” she stammered. “We’re in the Caribbean and I feel as though I’ve been buried in snow.”

  He removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “Your reaction is quite normal,” he said. “You’ve had a terrifying experience. I’m a bit shaky myself.”

  The smile she gave him this time was a little more solid. She absorbed the warmth of his jacket, hardly noticing the blood that still marred it.

  As the men rowed them farther out, she glanced back toward the Horizon, watching in horror as flames engulfed the ship and all the lost souls who remained aboard.

  Then she looked toward the south where another ship sailed boldly away. She thought of the pirate who’d accosted her in the hold.

  James Sterling. She’d remember his name. She’d remember his face.

  And worst of all, she’d never forget his kiss.

  James Sterling was a pirate without a ship.

  Sitting in a shadowy corner at the back of the crowded tavern, he reached for his tankard of grog, cursing the fact that he was in this wretched part of the world.

  Aboard the Phantom Mist, he’d thought he found a place where he belonged. He enjoyed the feel of a ship beneath him. He welcomed the challenge of storms, man against nature. He even relished the dangers to be found in pirating: the risks of battle, the threat of being captured, the chance of being hanged, the opportunity to acquire wealth beyond his wildest dreams.

  Yet here he was, condemned to a life on land, a man with a bounty on his head and no ship at his beck and call.

  He downed the remainder of his grog and slammed the tankard onto the table. Peering through the smoke-filled haze, he caught the attention of the harried barmai
d standing nearby and held up two fingers. She gave him a wink, a bright smile, and a quick nod. He knew two more brews would be forthcoming.

  Leaning back in his chair, he toyed with the ring he wore on the little finger of his left hand. A more worthless trinket he’d never known. Fool’s gold and cut glass. It had cost him everything: the life he loved, the danger he craved, the respect of his captain.

  Worse still, the girl he’d discovered in the hold continued to haunt him.

  He didn’t even know her name, but she’d earned his admiration. Even with his dagger pressed to her throat, she’d been defiant, fire blazing in her eyes, a blue so bright that not even the shadows could dim them. Her brown hair spilling over her shoulders no doubt enticed many a man. He was no exception.

  Devil take it, but he dreamed of holding her in his arms. Since that fateful day, no other female had caught his fancy. The girl was a witch, capable of casting a spell over him. It was the only explanation. Why else could he not forget her?

  The buxom barmaid set two tankards on his table. With a wink, he flipped a coin her way.

  She gave him a smile of invitation. “After we close, I can offer more zan tankards to a handsome lad like yourself.”

  James grinned. “Thanks for the offer, but I most likely will be otherwise occupied later.”

  She angled her head thoughtfully. “You look familiar, mon ami.”

  “Can’t imagine why I would. I’m a stranger to these parts.”

  “Still, zere’s something about you.” She shook her head as though to clear it. “It’ll come to me. If you change your mind about later …” Leaving the remainder of the invitation unspoken, she turned and walked away. James had no plans to change his mind.

  “Is one of ’em fer me, matey?”

  James had been so absorbed observing the wench, he’d missed the arrival of Ferret, so named because he had a talent for ferreting out information.

  Wrapping his hand around a tankard, James scooted it across the scarred wooden table. It looked as though many a man had carelessly taken a knife to it. “’Course, mate.”

  Licking his lips, Ferret dropped into the chair nearest James, bringing the odor of rotting fish and stale sweat with him. Ferret had been a worthy pirate before they’d attacked the Horizon. But one of the crewmen, fighting valiantly, had slashed Ferret’s arm. With a festering wound, he’d been declared useless and, along with James, marooned on a deserted island in the Caribbean. James had been forced to watch Ferret die or finish off what the enemy started. He’d finished the task … and no doubt ended Ferret’s career as a useful pirate.