Most merchants. Just not those who were sailing into Antigua.
The crews of those ships were treated as harshly as the slavers, and it was rumored that the governor of Antigua had put a massive bounty on the head of each member of the crew, with the highest on Captain Jack Raw himself. It seemed there was bad blood between Antigua and Captain Raw.
Blythe certainly hoped so.
"My thanks," she said to the whore, passing her a coin, which was swiftly tucked into the woman's ample bosom. Nodding, the whore ambled off, looking for more clientele. Hitching the satchel where she’d stored all of her worldly possessions, Blythe moved after the first mate of the Rawbone.
Mack
He was being followed.
The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Casually, Mack turned the corner, glancing back from where he had come from, but no one immediately stood out. A man didn't earn a bounty on his head without learning a few tricks though. A few more turns and he'd realized that the buxom brunette he kept overlooking was the one on his tail. It had taken him longer than usual, because he'd been expecting a man. Perhaps a spy from Antigua or even an official.
If she was a spy, she was the prettiest spy he'd ever seen. He couldn't quite imagine Hopkins sending a woman to do his dirty work though, as far as Mack had seen, the Governor of Antigua thought women were only good for two things.
So, why was she following him?
Curious to see how far she'd go, he strolled into The Rusty Pot. No woman in her right mind would enter the bar unescorted. It was a place for drinking and making deals, not for whoring. If she did come in, he'd have to either claim a meeting with her or watch her be raped and killed, but he didn't mind doing the former. He wanted to know why she was following him anyway.
Absently greeting several of the men he passed, he made his way over to the bar.
"Ale," he said to the barkeep, flipping him a coin. The man nodded and turned to grab a mug while Mack moved around to the far side of the bar, giving himself a clear view of the door. It also put him somewhat in the shadows, which would give him an opportunity to observe the woman if she came in.
Several long moments passed, his ale arrived, and Mack sighed with a tinge of disappointment. He'd been looking forward to a bit of excitement. Seemed he'd have to go looking for her once he was done with his ale. Or not. Perhaps she'd be outside waiting for him.
There was a small stir in the crowd when the door opened and the brunette stepped in.
Unmistakably a woman, despite the breeches she was wearing, her very presence changed the entire atmosphere in the room. Every man's gaze was drawn toward her, and not in a friendly manner. Sensing their animosity, her chin tilted up in defiance, her eyes scanning the room. Looking for him, he supposed.
Before she found him in the gloom, a large, brawny man stepped in front of her. Mack didn't need to see his face to know he was leering at her. Topping her height by a full head, the man loomed over her, his words clearly heard since all conversation had halted at her entrance.
"Well, well, lass, ye've wandered into the wrong place, haven' ya?"
Sighing inwardly, hoping he wouldn't have to actually fight the big swizzler, Mack got to his feet to intervene.
Blythe
The foul-smelling male in front of her was completely schnockered, cheap whiskey heavy on his breath. Blythe wrinkled her nose at the stench, but she didn't step back. Retreating would likely only heat his blood further.
She knew the Rusty Pot's reputation, and had almost turned away, but she hadn't wanted to lose Mack Raw again. There was no knowing when the Rawbone might leave port and she was determined to be on the ship when it did. If she approached him here, at least he'd know she was deadly serious.
Inwardly sighing, she decided to try for a peaceable interaction. "Excuse me," she said politely. "You're in my way."
Uproarious laughter met her words, not just from the man in front of her, but from everyone within earshot. Leering down at her, the man reached out and grabbed her, pulling her in close to him. "Oh no, lass, ye're in my way..."
Daft bastard.
He was big, but he was also drunk and slow.
Blythe lifted her knee, fast and hard. His breath came out in a shocked "oof" as he bent forward automatically. Twisting, she helped his face's descent, right into the second strike of her knee, and then she shoved. He toppled over like a tree, landing on the floor with a loud thud, making pathetic wheezing noises as he clutched at his bleeding face with one hand and his groin with the other.
With his large frame out of the way, her eyes now adjusted to the dim interior, she was able to see her target in the back of the room, already on his feet and staring at her with a kind of shock. He wasn't the only one looking at her that way.
"My name is Blythe O'Malley," she announced, hands on her hips. "And I'm here to speak with Mack Raw."
Head held high, she paced toward the man in question, while the pirates whispered her name in awe. Not her full name though, the name they knew her by.
Bonny Blythe... it's her, it's Bonny Blythe.
Chapter 2
Mack
Mack Raw was in love.
He'd heard of Bonny Blythe O'Malley, of course. There weren't an abundance of women who took to the pirating life, so when one did—especially one so successful as Bonny Blythe—word spread.
Gossip said she was a siren of the waves, beautiful and deadly. They said she was responsible for the sack of Fort Carolina, after she seduced its general and opened the gates for her crew. Women were not usually welcome aboard a ship, but Bonny Blythe... well, Bonny Blythe was said to be a good luck charm for any crew lucky enough to draw her attention.
She was a wisp'o'the'wind, drawn this way and that and no one knew how she chose her next berth.
It looked like Mack might be about to find out. If he'd known who was following him, he wouldn't have gone into the Rusty Pot at all.
As she approached, he turned back to the barkeep. "Another ale."
He might not be a gentleman, but he did have some manners. The smile of appreciation he received from her was its own reward. She was a comely woman in general, but when she smiled, she became radiant. The blue pools of her eyes were deep enough that a man could be tempted to dive in and never come out again.
"You're Mack Raw," she said, her husky voice lilting a bit. Immediately, he wondered how it would sound when she moaned. Preferably, his name. Regretfully, he put the notion aside for now. The Rusty Pot was for business, not seduction. "First mate of the Rawbone."
"Aye," he said, handing her the mug of ale the barkeep returned with.
Taking it from him, she sipped almost daintily, but didn't even wrinkle her nose at the bitter taste. Mack had to admire her fortitude. The ale was barely drinkable, even by his standards, which were admittedly low.
"I want to join your crew," she said simply.
Jake was going to shit his pants.
Jake
There was a certain feel to every ship, as though she had a mood of her own. A good captain could gauge that mood, could feel when it changed, when something disturbed her usual disposition.
Which was how Jake knew that something was amiss even before he left his cabin and stepped out onto the deck. He rubbed at the scar across his cheek, the way he often did when something felt off. The one time he'd ignored his instincts, he'd gotten the scar to remember it by.
His instincts were so spot-on, he'd overheard his crew whispering that he must have the Sight. As far as Jake knew, he didn't, but he couldn't deny that he and Mack sometimes got feelings. Often their feelings had to do with each other. Sometimes they didn't.
Right now, his instincts were telling him that something big was happening, but he didn't feel as if he were in danger. No, this felt important in some other way.
"Cap'n, Cap'n!" Big John came rushing over as soon as he saw Jake, more excited than Jake had ever seen him before. The Maste
r Gunner was a gruff, unfriendly man most days. Protective of his men and his cannons, but unlikely to say more than a sentence or two at a time—at most. Grizzled, grey-haired, and missing his left arm from the elbow down, he was an intimidating barrel of a man... but right now he looked more like an excitable youth. "She's here."
"Who is here?" Jake asked, slightly alarmed. He'd never seen Big John excited about a woman before. In fact, he was fairly sure the man had no interest in any kind of relations. He'd never indicated an interest in a woman or a man before.
"Bonny Blythe." The man's tone was almost reverent.
Blinking in shock, Jake picked up his pace, moving past Big John toward the crowd gathered midship. He could see the top of his brother's head, standing slightly higher than the rest of the crew's, but not who was standing in the space next to him.
"No women on board!"
He recognized the voice of Nate, their Quartermaster. Unlike Big John, Nate loved the ladies, but only in their proper place—the brothel. Men had tried to find reasons to bring women aboard in the past, for celebrations, and Nate had been the leader of those who voted against the practice. So far, they'd always won out.
But if this was Bonnie Blythe... Jake had just heard some new information in town that changed his immediate plans for the future, and he could use all the luck he could get.
"Cap'n, coming through," Big John roared out from him.
Immediately, the crew parted ranks, turning to watch his approach and giving him a clear path to Mack and the woman standing next to him. She wasn't quite what he expected.
Tall for a woman, she still only came up to Mack's shoulder. Her eyes were big and blue and thickly lashed, without a trace of fear in them despite being surrounded by a crew of misfits and rogues. Brown hair, but it was pulled back in a tight bun, revealing the strong lines of her face and shoulders. She was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, wrapped with a wide band of green fabric, and breeches, similar to what most of his crew was wearing. None of it hid her curves.
When she smiled up at him, it was like the sun breaking through the clouds, and she went from attractive to almost angelic.
"Captain Jake Raw, I presume?" she asked in a husky contralto that was made for the bedroom. The woman could have charged a fortune as a whore and still had a line out the door, no matter her prices.
The Siren of the Seven Seas indeed.
Although it remained to be seen if she was as deadly as she was beautiful.
"Aye," he acknowledged, dipping his head slightly. "And who are you?"
"This is Blythe O'Malley," Mack said cheerfully, confirming her identity as Bonny Blythe. He would. Mack was one of those who wanted to be able to bring a woman on board the ship when it suited him. Jake had always voted against. He could tell his twin already knew the winds were changing.
"No women on board!" Nate repeated stubbornly, glaring at Mack. "No matter who she be. We voted."
"I say we vote again," Big John interjected, causing a ripple through the crew when they realized who was challenging Nate. Jake couldn't remember if Big John had ever demanded a vote or spoken for a side when one was held. "Bonny Blythe tain't no normal woman."
There was a murmur of agreement through the rest of the crew members, and Jake held up his hand to stall any further outbursts. Rather than looking as his men, he looked at Blythe.
"What can we do for you, lass?" he asked.
"I want to join your crew."
The crew in question exploded with shouts at her words, instantly descending into chaos. Usually, the crew was about split when it came to the question of a woman on board. Jake couldn't tell if the superstitions around this particular woman changed anything, because it was too hard to make out what anyone was saying. He could barely hear himself think.
He held up his hand again and it took about a minute, but the crew did finally fall mostly silent. A few grumbles were to be expected.
Rubbing his scar, Jake looked up at the sky for a moment and then back at her. This was either going to be a major complication or a blessing, and he couldn't tell which. Still, a man didn't become a pirate without enjoying some risks.
"Miss O'Malley-"
"Mrs.," she interrupted, correcting him. "But I prefer Blythe."
"Well, Blythe, let's speak privately and you can make your case to me, then the crew will have to take a vote." He looked at Big John and Nate. "Gather up the men. After we vote, we sail, with or without Bonny Blythe." Jerking his head at Mack to join him, he turned back toward his cabin.
Chapter 3
Blythe
She wasn't surprised by Captain Jake's request.
Some crews took to her immediately, others wanted nothing to do with her, and some—like the Rawbone—were divided. And no matter how the crews felt, a lot of the captains were wary about taking a woman on board. Others wanted something else from her. She couldn't tell which category Captain Jake fell into yet.
Most of the time, she turned down those who wanted something else. But sometimes she didn't, mostly when the captain had something in particular that she wanted.
Captain Jake met that qualification. But, for the first time since her husband died, she was almost looking forward to earning her place on the ship. Mack stepped into the captain's quarters behind her, closing the door, and the whore's words ran through her mind.
They like to share their women between them.
Did that mean she'd be asked to spread her legs for the first mate as well? Shockingly, the thought made her body heat even more. The Raw brothers were just that—rawly beautiful, stirringly masculine, and wholly enticing.
Blythe had needs, like any woman, but she hadn't felt those needs attached to any particular man since her husband.
Captain Jake sat down in a chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, shirt gaping open to show off a muscular chest. His hair was longer than Mack's, a lone curl curving over his forehead and nearly reaching his scarred eyebrow. Even without the scar, he and Mack weren't identical, just very similar, but the scar certainly helped differentiate them.
His eyes, which were more deep brown than his brother's black, moved over her body, inspecting her from head to toe. Normally men's gazes had no effect on her, but his left her feeling both hot and vulnerable, as though he could see beneath not just her clothing, but her skin to all her secrets.
Jake Raw was a dangerous man. She'd known that, she just hadn't known how dangerous until now.
"Bonny Blythe," he said, leaning back and resting his face against one hand. "Why do you wish to join my crew?"
Well, if he was going to get right to the point, then so was she, although she was a bit surprised he was asking 'why' and not 'how are you going to convince me?'
"Rumor has it you're warring with the Governor of Antigua. That you're targeting his ships and ports above all others and making him look a fool." She tilted her head at him, wondering at the lack of change in his expression. "They say you don't mean to stop till he's dead."
Jake
For once the gossip was right, although it was not completely surprising, since Jake had not been quiet about his intentions. He wanted Hopkins to know that the Rawbone was coming for him. Wanted the man jumping at every shadow, paranoid of every interaction, wondering if today was the day that his bastard sons had returned to take their revenge.
"They are right," Mack growled from behind her, making her jump. His brother's eyes met his over her head. They shared a moment of anticipation, of knowing the day was coming. Soon.
But until then...
"What does it matter to you?" Jake asked, curious, turning his attention back to Blythe. Very little was known about her past, even within the wild stories told about her, and he hadn't heard her name mentioned with any connection to Antigua.
She looked back at him for a long moment, pressing her lips together as if deciding what she was going to say. A flicker of pain passed through her bright eyes just before she nodded.
"It's wher
e my husband and I had our farm," she said. The sultry husk to her voice was almost gone, her tone flat as if she was pressing down all emotion by sheer force of will. "A neighbor, Sir Joseph Ready, decided he wanted our land. My husband was killed a week after he refused to sell. An unfortunate accident, he somehow managed to slit his own throat while working in the fields." Her eyes flashed with anger. "I was turned out to make my own way." The clipped way she said it made Jake feel sure there was more to the story.
Especially because he knew Sir Ready. The man was Hopkins' brother-in-law. There was no way there would have been a fair investigation into her husband's death. Corruption in Antigua ran deep. The man would have been smarter to sell, but perhaps he hadn't realized the kind of men he was dealing with. Sir Ready had an impeccable reputation amongst his peers after all.
He and Mack exchanged another look. Neither of them would shed a tear over Ready's demise, but neither did they wish to be distracted from their main goal.
Still, with the news he'd heard today... a woman could be most beneficial to his next move against Hopkins.
"My crew is full," he said conversationally. If she truly was Bonny Blythe, she'd know what he was getting at. "There are no extra beds."
Her chin lifted. "Then I supposed I shall have to share someone's. It won't be the first time."
Jake chuckled. If she expected him to be put off by that, she was sorely mistaken. He preferred a woman with experience. Shrinking, horrified virgins and prudes didn't entice him in the least.
"The crew still has to vote, but Mack and I will back you if we're pleased. Let's see what we're getting. Strip."
Blythe
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 20
