Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  Instead of being cowed by his irritability, Rory merely laughed. Rory always laughed. “I take this to mean ye didn’t help yerself to the pretty lassie waitin’ in yer quarters. Had I a wee thing like her all to meself I’d go balls-deep in her and not come out until I heard the cry o’ land ho!”

  He glared at his quartermaster, annoyed that the man had touched on exactly what he wanted to do. Only one night on board his ship and she already had him wanting to shirk his duties as well as his vengeance.

  “I haven’t yet decided whether she’s a liar or a victim … but I intend to find out. Then I’ll lock myself in that cabin with her and you can command the ship until I emerge.”

  Rory gave him a wide, wicked grin, the wind tousling his brassy curls. “I’ll try not to die o’ envy in the meantime. Any orders before ye go below, Cap’n? She’s tackin’ at nine knots and makin’ good time.”

  “Keep a weather eye for the Royal Navy. You can be sure they’ve already made chase. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “And other ships?”

  “Send for me if you see anything worth pursuing. And by worth pursuing, I mean sitting low in the water and easy to overtake—I know the men want their plunder, but it’d be best for us to return home and lay low for a bit.”

  “As you say, Cap’n.”

  Taking a gulp of his coffee, Drew went in direction of the forecastle stairs leading below, but paused and turned back.

  “Have Little Jack take breakfast to my guest. Now that we’re out to sea, she can be untied.”

  Rory nodded his agreement and then called out for Little Jack, his cabin boy and son of his bosun, Big Jack. Drew continued on his way, stopping off in the crew quarters to borrow a lamp. It lit his way down into the hull of the ship, into the deepest, dankest space—the only place that served no function other than to be a cesspool of leakage and a stench that would singe a man’s nostril hairs.

  From the low-hanging beams above hung his two prisoners, their wrists trapped in irons and their arms stretched high overhead. Their coats had been removed, and their shirts were now dingy from sweat and grime. Will’s wig had fallen off his head, lying in a puddle on the floor, his dark brown hair a stringy mess about his face. Archibald was drenched in sweat, his face pale and drawn. The old man seemed to have fallen asleep despite his uncomfortable position, his legs given out and his stockings soaked from the inch of dirty water pooling beneath them. Will was wide awake and watching Drew’s every move with suspicion, fear, and a subtle glint of anger in his eyes.

  “Gentlemen,” Drew boomed, loud enough to wake the snoring Archibald. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the hospitality of my ship thus far.”

  Archibald started, his snores breaking off on a startled snort, his bleary eyes darting left to right before landing on Drew.

  “Drew. This barbaric treatment is ridiculous and completely unnecessary. If you—”

  The resounding thud of the back of Drew’s hand across Will’s face echoed through the bilge, and the other man swung from his restraints, feet scrabbling, body jerking from the impact. He narrowed his eyes at Will, who righted himself and shook his head, his tongue coming out to lap at the blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

  “You’ll refer to me as Captain or have your tongue cut out,” Drew snapped. “And it’s funny, you calling me a barbarian, for I am what you made of me, brother.”

  Will narrowed his eyes, one of them watering from the force of Drew’s slap. “You were never meant to become anything, Captain. You were meant to be dead.”

  Drew chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he began to pace before them. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but as it turns out I’m rather hard to kill. But we are not here to talk about what you did to me—the three of us already know of the details. You will be repaid in kind for your treachery, so you would do well not to further aggravate me and risk making matters worse. I came down here for answers concerning Bella.”

  “You aren’t fit to even speak her name, you … you bloody pirate!” Archibald spat.

  Drew edged closer to Archibald, leaning in until he could see the pupils of the man’s eyes and smell the stench radiating from him. “Pirate? It isn’t the worst thing I’ve been called. In fact, piracy is what set me free and made me richer than the two of you combined, so I suppose I can thank you for that much. And, for all your efforts, I still succeeded in taking your daughter for myself. Not fit to speak her name? I’ll have done far more than that by the time I’m finished with her.”

  Archibald seemed to forget his restraints, lunging toward Drew with a cry of outrage. Drew simply took hold of the man’s throat, lifting him clear off the ground and giving him a mighty shake. He swung from the ceiling, choking and coughing when his throat was released. Drew stepped back and eyed the two men, unable to deny the surge of satisfaction he felt having them at his mercy. Their treatment thus far could be called kind considering what Drew had suffered after impressment—though he intended for that to change before the sun had set.

  “I wrestled with myself for years wondering why you’d done it,” Drew said, shifting his attention to Will. “Him I could understand when he’d always detested my association with his daughter. But you … even knowing you coveted Bella, I couldn’t think of any reason you’d go out of your way to eradicate me. But she was the reason, was she not?”

  Will spat a stream of blood at his feet and sneered. “The chit never knew what was good for her. What woman in her right mind would choose you over me? I had everything she could have wanted, yet she could never see that for all that she was so obsessed with you!”

  “So, you admit she’d have never had you unless I was dead? Do you also admit that she had nothing to do with your little scheme?”

  Will blinked, seeming taken aback for a moment before he replied in a rush. “Of course she had something to do with it! As I said, she didn’t know what was good for her, but I made her see things my way. I reminded her that she’d become a pauper and an outcast married to a bastard mongrel like you! She came to see she didn’t want such a life. She wanted a husband who could give her everything you couldn’t, but we could never have that as long as you were in Falmouth.”

  Drew inclined his head, stepping closer to Will and studying him diligently—noting the subtle shift of his eyes and the tremble of his mouth as he spoke. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not, and you know it. But, you’ve already figured that out for yourself, haven’t you? She came to see that I was the better man. With you gone she fell into my arms so easily it was laughable. She never really loved you, you know. Otherwise, how could she have come to me the way she did, offering herself up with such … enthusiasm?”

  Drew’s fingers twitched as his blood went hot, his rage boiling to the surface. “You tread on dangerous ground.”

  “What’s the matter, brother? Is the truth so very difficult for you to hear? You wanted to know what happened after we were rid of you, and I’m happy to tell you. I’ve had her … so many times and in so many ways it’s a wonder I decided to marry her at all. Why make a wife out of her when she so willingly fell into the role of playing my whore?”

  Unable to hold back any longer, Drew let his curled fist fly. It slammed into Will’s stomach, then snapped up to connect with his jaw. Will groaned, falling slack in his shackles and letting his head drop toward his chest. Once he’d recovered from the blows, he began to laugh, his entire body trembling with the deranged sounds.

  “You never could bring yourself to put your prick in her, could you?” he taunted. “I thought you had, but I learned the truth for myself. You weren’t man enough—”

  “William, perhaps you oughtn’t—”

  “Sod off, old man!” Will bellowed, cutting Archibald’s protests short. “She ought to have been grateful I wanted her at all, and you should be glad I was willing to take your mulatto bastard offspring off your hands.”

  Drew grasped Will by his shirt front, his entire being vibrati
ng from the desire to end it here and now. The man was in chains, so all he need do was wrap his hands around Will’s throat and squeeze. It would be so satisfying to watch him fight for his life, gasping and choking as his lips turned purple and his eyes brimmed red with blood.

  “You forget how well I know you,” he snarled. “I can tell when you’re lying. You can’t even look me in the eye, and your chin trembles like a virgin on her wedding night.”

  This time, Will did look him in the eye. The blue depths brimmed with malice and glee as he grinned, the wide smile devoid of all humor.

  “Think what you like. If you cannot bring yourself to face the truth, I can hardly force you to. But the fact is, she took every inch of my cock and moaned and begged for more.”

  Archibald began to bluster and rail at hearing his daughter spoken of in such a way, but Drew hardly heard a word of it. Murder seized him in its clutches as he stared into the eyes of the man he’d once loved but now hated with every inch of his being. He wanted to snap his neck here and now and have done with it, but such would be too good for the man who had been responsible for years of torment and degradation. He deserved a slow, agonizing death, and Drew intended to make certain he had it. He would not derail his own plans in a moment of thoughtless fury.

  With a deep, slow breath, he managed to blink past the wrath darkening his vision and threatening to turn him into a mindless animal ripping its prey to shreds. He released Will, fisting his hands but keeping them lowered at his sides.

  Turning to Archibald, she shook her head in disgust. “This is the man you preferred for your daughter?”

  Archibald lowered his head, now faced with the realization that he’d pulled Arabella from the grasp of an unsuitable man only to throw her to a lecher who spoke of her as if she were no more than a whore.

  “He is of a fine family with good social standing,” the man protested weakly.

  “I hope it was worth causing her pain,” he replied. “And I hope it was worth your miserable life, for that is the price you will pay for what you’ve done.”

  Archibald kept his head down as if ashamed to meet his eyes, but Will glowered at him, still as filled with indignation and self-importance as ever. He laughed as Drew began backing away, needing to leave them before his ire got the best of him.

  “You simply cannot stand the fact that she was mine, can you? Kill me if you like, but you’ll always have to live with knowing that I took her from you. Had you the grace to die as you should have, she would be mine even now.”

  Drew turned away, refusing to be baited. Will almost seemed to want Drew to kill him now, for the man had to know that his planned execution would be brutal and excruciating.

  “She will never be yours,” he ground out as he took up his lamp and made for the stairs, casting them back into darkness.

  He stomped up the stairs at a swift pace, agitation firing his blood. Will’s words had the intended effect, and now his mind filled with images of his brother with Arabella—touching her, undressing her, helping himself to her delicious little body. Shaking his head as he cleared the bilge and came up through the forecastle, he told himself he had been right to call Will a liar. He was as easy to read as ever, and had given himself away the moment he’d opened his mouth.

  So, now you know for certain she had nothing to do with their plan to do away with you. But what of the rest of it? Did she give herself to him?

  He wanted to believe she hadn’t. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, even as he found himself enraged with her for even agreeing to marry Will. Even being ignorant to Will’s part in his abduction, how could she have decided to wed his own brother? She wore his ring, had been standing at the altar of a church speaking marriage vows when Drew had returned to reclaim her.

  Did it matter whether she had given her body to Will? That, he might have forgiven her for, but she’d been willing to give the man far more than that. Her heart, her soul, her entire self. It would have all belonged to Will until death did them part.

  No, she did not and would not belong to Will. She belonged to Drew, and he had taken too long in ensuring she knew that. Ignoring the calls of his crew wishing him a good morning, he stormed toward his cabin, intention propelling every step.

  Chapter 5

  Arabella flinched as the door of Drew’s chambers flew open and crashed against the wall. Her captor stood on the threshold with one hand braced on the frame, his lion’s eyes locked on her with undisguised hunger. Her belly erupted in a flurry of butterflies, and the small cedar chest she had been rifling through fell onto the massive desk with a loud ‘thunk.’

  She had been greeted this morning by a boy named Little Jack—who’s nut-brown skin reminded her of her own. He’d declared himself Drew’s cabin boy, and informed her that he’d been ordered to untie her and see that she had breakfast. The boy hadn’t spoken much, cleaning the cabin and preparing for his master’s morning toilette while Arabella opted to sit at Drew’s desk to have her breakfast.

  She felt better after a night of rest and a filling breakfast of bacon, hardtack, porridge, slices of the oranges fresh from Jamaica’s lush jungle, and a pewter mug of coffee sweetened with a cube of sugar. The cabin boy had offered her warm water for washing, and she’d been about to avail herself to it as best she could while still restricted in her stays—but her curiosity over Drew’s life as a pirate captain had diverted her. She’d been unable to help the urge to search his desk, pushing aside charts and maps and various nautical tools to seek out any items of personal interest.

  Who was he now? Was he as ruthless and heartless as pirates were rumored to be? How many men had he killed in his quest for wealth? Was he the sort to rape and pillage as well as steal? Did he have a lover waiting for him back on this island he called home?

  All these questions had driven her to seek out any personal mementos or clues to the man who had kidnapped her. The man she still loved with all her heart, even if he now despised her. She’d just come upon a chest filled with odd and foreign-looking objects when the door had come flying open and Drew stood there, catching her in the act.

  However, as he came into the room, tossing aside his tricorne and peeling off his coat, he didn’t seem to notice the chest or her place behind his desk. He had eyes only for her, fire blazing in the depths and obvious anger tightening his jaw and mouth. She stood frozen in his thrall, hands shaking as she tried to force her legs to move. But, where was she to go? Even if she could get past him and out of the cabin, they were at sea with nowhere for her to run.

  And, did she truly wish to run from him? While this new side of his nature frightened her, the part of her that loved him wanted nothing more than to be in his clutches no matter what pain it might cause her.

  “On the bed,” he snapped while yanking the tails of his shirt free of his breeches. “Now.”

  His sharp command propelled her into motion, as she could see it would be unwise to resist or further annoy him. As she stumbled toward the bed, it dawned on her that he hadn’t returned to the cabin last night. Something had to have happened since then to anger him. Did it have to do with her and Will?

  Her racing thoughts came to a screeching halt as he straightened from removing his boots, his entire torso now bared to her view. The elusive tattoo was now on full display, illuminated by the light streaming through the bay of windows open to allow in fresh, salty air. It was the head of a lion, large and encompassing his entire chest, its mane lustrous, its maw open to bare sharp teeth in a ferocious snarl.

  She gasped at both the beauty and brutality of him half-clothed, the hard-packed muscles defined by deep lines. Thick, prominent veins pushed against his skin along his forearms, and the smattering of dark hair trailing down into his breeches held golden strands just like the mop of his hair. Those intriguing, rope-like tendrils hung down his back uninhibited, as wild and feral as the rest of him.

  “C-captain?” she stammered, trembling as he approached, prowling toward her with swif
t, long strides. “What …”

  “You gave yourself to him.”

  She flinched as if he’d roared at her, when his voice had come out on a low whisper. Still, the words struck her as heavy with accusation and pain. Shaking her head in denial, she backed away from his advance, coming up short against the headboard. The golden figurehead of the lion pressed between her shoulder blades.

  “No, I … I couldn’t bring myself to, no matter how he pressed me. I only ever kissed him, and even then it did not feel right. It never felt right, because he wasn’t the man I wanted. He wasn’t you.”

  A low growl emitted from deep in his chest as he climbed onto the bed. Taking hold of her ankle, he dragged her toward him. He spread his legs to straddle her, then knelt upright, beginning to unbuckle his gunbelt. The leather hissed through the buckle, then fell to the bed, his blunderbuss landing within arm’s reach. He drew his dagger free of its sheath—the same one he’d used to cut her garments off last night. She drew in a sharp breath as he angled it toward her, touching the blade to her lips and slowly, lightly, dragged it down her chin and neck. The cool metal tickled despite its dangerous trajectory, sending sensation and goosebumps rippling over her skin.

  “No,” he rasped, resting the point between her breasts, until only a lunge would be enough to bury it deep and kill her. “You gave yourself to him!”

  His gaze flicked to the hand resting beside her head, and she followed it, her heart sinking at the sight of the ring gleaming on her third finger. His meaning became clear as he let the dagger drop, reaching for her hand to snatch the jewel from her finger and hold it up to the light. Again, she felt relief at being divested of a heavy, cumbersome thing she hadn’t even wanted to wear. The gown, the wig, the ring … all had marked her as Will’s bride. In here, in this cabin and on this ship, she belonged to Drew.

  “I was never his,” she whispered, drawing his gaze back to her. “Even when I agreed to marry him, even as I stood at the altar struggling to force myself to say the vows. And I think he knew it.”