Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  “Why would we not leave together?”

  “Chances are good that when Big Devil’s rats see Thomas departing, everyone will pursue my brother assuming he has Rose.” He shook his head. “Holding back to find me would slow them down. The prize they are seeking is far too valuable.” He shot her a pointed look. “A prize they now know about thanks to those letters.”

  She need not know yet that Luke remaining behind might lessen the number of ships pursuing Thomas. That theirs was more of a divide and conquer scheme. Because Big Devil was too thorough not to leave some rats behind. In turn, Luke and Thomas were just as thorough, setting a trap for those rats.

  “Those were letters you sent me might I remind you,” she huffed. “So essentially the plan is to have Big Devil go after my sister so I can get away.” She shook her head. “How could you possibly think I would agree to that?”

  “Because the matter is out of your hands.” Before she could respond, he flipped her over his shoulder, slapped her perky arse and growled, “Now keep yer trap shut or find yerself not tied neatly to a bed but bent over a tavern table used by the lot of ‘em!”

  Chapter 3

  Hannah muttered through the swift sting of Luke’s slap on her backside and began plotting while reliving what he had just done to her on the bed. How could he do so little and wring so much sensation from her? The man had the devil in him to be sure. A devil that knew just how to touch her…rub her.

  “Blast it,” she cursed.

  “Shh.” He set her down in an alley and narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to gag you?” A Cheshire grin curled his lips. “Because nothing would give me more pleasure.”

  She had forgotten how he had a way of towering over her and provoking her defiant nature…when he was not luring her with need that is.

  Which made her think of a particular afternoon outside their schoolhouse in Yorktown. They were fourteen and teasing turned to taunting.

  As always, she cut through the woods to her uncle's plantation rather than take the road. And as always of late, Luke was not far behind.

  “Why do you walk like that?” he had chided. “You look like you have a stick stuck up your—”

  “Hush, now!” She spun on her heel, walked right up to him and notched her chin, daring him to be any ruder. “A gentleman does not chide a lady on how she walks.”

  He chuckled. “Then you best do away with being a lady.” He shrugged a shoulder and casually twirled a stick, insinuating the instrument he thought she had stuck up her backside. “Especially if it makes you walk like that.”

  “I walk just fine,” she retorted but wondered what he meant precisely.

  Clearly sensing her reluctant curiosity, he stepped shockingly close, had the audacity to rest his hands on her hips then gave her counsel. “Just a bit of loosening up through here would make you seem less…stiff.”

  At that moment, with the sunlight streaming through the branches overhead and the heat sultry, something shifted between them. It became less teasing and more taunting on both their parts. Because unlike the lady she was pretending to be her eyes had dropped boldly to his groin before she peered up at him through her lashes. “I see what you mean about stiff.”

  “Do I then?” he prompted, bringing her back to the present.

  “Do you what?”

  “Need to gag you?”

  “I dare you to try,” she taunted, the words coming far too easily.

  A devious twinkle lit his eyes. “Try I will then,” he assured. “Later.” He cocked his head. “Or would you prefer it now and be unable to speak with your sister?”

  “Rose?” She peered into the alleyway. “Where is she?”

  “This way.” He pulled her free of the buildings and through swaths of trees for a time until they arrived on a sandy shore with a small, stone dwelling. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating Rose. When she headed for her sister, Luke held back in the woodland, talking to a fellow pirate who had appeared.

  “Hannah,” Rose cried when Hannah embraced her. “I am so glad you are well, Sister.”

  “I told you I would be.” Now to put into action her quickly hatched plan. “How are you, Rose?” Knowing full well where her sister would have hidden the brooch, she squeezed Rose’s waist, unhooked it from the folds, and then held Rose’s shoulders in concern, careful to keep the brooch hidden. “Are you well? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Rose shook her head. “You?”

  “Well enough,” Hannah managed, remembering just how fine she had been on that bed earlier. “Just muddling through.”

  “I dare say this is a bit more than that!” Rose exclaimed.

  “That would depend on who your hero is,” Hannah muttered, winded as her traitorous mind wandered back to the way Luke had touched her. How her body had wanted more. Far more.

  “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.”

  All the more reason for Hannah to put her plan into action straight away.

  “I will see you soon, Sister.” Hannah squeezed Rose’s hand. “Until then, stay safe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  When fear flickered in Rose’s eyes, she realized her sister had not been filled in on the whole plan, which was probably for the best.

  “I mean we have to split up for now. We will be far safer that way.” She embraced her sister one more time. “I will see you soon, all right?”

  “But…but—”

  “No buts.” Hannah met her eyes. “We just have to shake the beasts on our tail then we will regroup.” She nodded hello to Thomas, noting that he too was as handsome as ever. “You best take good care of her.”

  Then, before she could doubt her decision, she fled into the night.

  There was only one way to ensure her sister’s safety, and that was by letting Big Devil know she had the brooch before he pursued Rose. So she raced as fast she could back toward the buildings only for a strong pair of arms to come around her waist as the first heavy raindrops fell.

  Before she could scream, Luke gagged her, tossed her over his shoulder, slapped her backside harder than before then strode in the opposite direction. He proceeded to mutter all the while about stubborn, foolhardy, uppity, irritating women with a heroic streak that bloody well would get them killed but not on his watch.

  When she yelled through her gag, he squeezed her backside in warning. He’d prefer to slap it but held back from doing it too much, and she knew why. He was not sure how far to go with her. What was appropriate considering the abuse she’d suffered at her uncle’s hands.

  “How much abuse must you take for your sister?” Luke ground out. They were sixteen, and it was one of the rare evenings that she had allowed him to comfort her.

  As a rule, her uncle did not lash her backside with his switch, but everywhere else except her face was fair game.

  “I will kill him for this someday,” he vowed. “I promise you that.”

  In truth, Rose got lashed too, but Hannah tried to head it off whenever she could. Typically, as long as their uncle could take out his foul nature on someone, he didn’t care which girl it was.

  “Maybe someday,” she murmured, flinching when Luke touched her wounded shoulder. She looked at him in warning. “Not now, though.” She shook her head. “Rose and I have no kin without him. Nowhere to go.”

  “My father would take you in,” he said softly.

  He would not, and they both knew it.

  “Your father barely knows what to do with you and Thomas,” she pointed out. “Let alone two colony girls whose uncle holds so much power here.”

  “My father is a British governor in a British occupied Virginian colony,” he reminded. “Remember that.” He turned her gently and met her eyes. “My father has more authority than your uncle.”

/>   “In a man’s world where punishing a woman, let alone a ward, is not a crime by any means,” she said sourly not bothering to mention the governor was friends with her uncle. So there was really no help to be had there. “I am my uncle’s property as I will someday be my husband’s.”

  “Then I will be your husband.” He offered the crooked grin that sometimes worked on her depending on the day. “And you will only belong to me if you want to.”

  As Luke had a way of doing, one moment the idea of belonging to any man repulsed her, where the next she quite liked it. More when he said it with that naughty gleam in his eyes.

  Though it was not at that precise moment, it was around that time when she realized how much control she actually practiced in her life. Not just watching out for Rose but even in the lashes she took from her uncle. He thought he controlled her, but it was the other way around because she stepped up and took it willingly. She did not flee or turn coward but stayed strong when men such as her uncle only sought to weaken her.

  Yet it came at a toll. An emotional strain born of staying so strong all the time. Never letting down her guard. Being caged within the walls of her own inner strength. Never truly relaxing but bracing for the next time. The next lash she was determined to intercept before it landed elsewhere.

  As it turned out, it was her deeply repressed need to break free of her mental cage, that resulted in a dynamic relationship blossoming between her and Luke.

  One that allowed them to explore the darker side of their natures. To embrace what some might say was broken inside them. He, she suspected, needed to be in control because his father was disturbingly strict. She, to relinquish control, to place herself in the hands of someone she trusted as she explored her deepest hidden desires. To have someone rip away her mental cage of strength and control without feeling weakened. To give herself over to something freeing in its own way rather than existing solely in the rigid prison of the society in which she was born.

  Luke tromped along through Nassau’s sparse trees for a while in the driving rain before he finally rapped on a door. When it opened, and he plunked her down, she realized with dismay that the wench from earlier was waiting. What rotten luck. Why was she here?

  “Abigail is a reliable friend,” Luke revealed, stopping Hannah when she tried for the door, “who has agreed to let us stay here at one of her brothels until we flee the island.” He perked a brow at Hannah. “Are you interested in being tied up again so soon?” He pointed at a chair in a small adjoining room with a bed. “Because if you do not sit, that is precisely what I will do.”

  “Ye may want to anyway,” Abigail suggested. “That girl’s got the devil in ‘er eyes when it comes to ye, love.” She shook her head. “When a woman’s got a man festering in her soul like that nothin’ stops her from gettin’ what she ultimately wants.”

  “Which is not him,” Hannah said around her gag, the words nothing more than a slur. “I only want to save my sister.”

  “Seems she’s still set on saving her sister,” she remarked, evidently understanding women who spoke through gags. But then look at what had happened to Hannah on this very island.

  “And she’s set on not wanting me,” Luke commented, alarmingly enough understanding women who spoke through gags as well. But then she had a general idea what he liked in the bedroom so no surprise there either.

  “Oh, she wants ye alright, love.” Abigail licked her stained lips and eyed his groin with appreciation. “Can’t say I blame ‘er either.”

  “Dear Lord, what have I been thrust into,” Hannah muttered around her God forsaken gag. She plunked down in the chair until she could make a break for it. “You are both rotten to the core.”

  “She’s a feisty wee thing, aye?” Abigail complimented. “I see why ye love her.” Her eyes roamed over Hannah with as much appreciation as a man’s might. “There’s a lot for the takin.’”

  “I dislike her,” he corrected. “Strongly.”

  Abigail’s amused, all-too-knowing eyes slid between the two. “I think I might be wantin’ a lil’ extra out of this deal.”

  “Ye are not sampling her.” Luke considered Hannah, and his mouth curled up at the corner. “Though I rather like the idea of being watched.”

  “Aye.” Abigail met his grin. “And I rather like the idea of watchin.’”

  Chapter 4

  Luke more than enjoyed the look of mortification on Hannah’s face at the idea of Abigail watching him take his little tease once and for all. Mainly because beneath all that mock prim and proper, there was a flicker of interest.

  “Not to worry, Hannah.” He stood behind the chair and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I know you would prefer a chap watching us.” He murmured in her ear, “But I am glad to see you are open to variety.”

  In truth, except for his crew outside, there were no chaps about at the moment. Only wenches he trusted to keep his secrets. So he removed her gag, more than ready for her scathing response.

  “You…you…horrible scoundrel!” Her round eyes met his over her shoulder. “Liar!”

  Before Hannah could stand, he yanked her chair around, sat on the edge of the bed, and caged her in by locking his hands on the back of the chair.

  “I’ll be,” she exclaimed, her eyes wider still. “Surely, you are not of the mind to—”

  “Oh, I am of the mind to do each and every thing you pondered in your letters,” he assured. “And most certainly will.” He held out his palm, fully aware of what she had done. What she meant to do. “First, give me the brooch, Hannah.”

  “Well, I never.”

  “Never what?” He cocked a brow. “Teased me all these years with missives about what I could never have? Taunted me with a variety of…how should I put this…” He pretended to ponder. “Lewd and indecent desires?” He licked his lips, eager to taste those sweet folds of hers again. “Cravings?”

  “This is inappropriate,” she hissed before she had the nerve to roll her eyes. “Surely, you know those were all speculative and…” She searched for the right words and came up with a tall tale, indeed. “They were a fictional way to escape a hum-drum life.”

  He snorted and shook his head, more aroused by the moment, sort of enjoying the game actually. “They were repressed desires you only felt comfortable sharing with me.” Before she had time to struggle, he pulled her hands behind her back, and tied them to the chair, murmuring in her ear again, “I believe this was the first. Just a chair and a little ribbon.” He met her eyes, his cock throbbing with need once again. “And me, of course.” He ran his finger down the side of her neck lightly, and she shivered. “Always me.”

  He recalled the day like it was yesterday.

  It was mere months before he went off to war. They had been strolling near the river. Or more like striding due to her restless energy.

  “He absolutely infuriates me!” She clenched her fists and shook her head, as always referring to her uncle. “I want to beat him for hitting Rose. For hitting me. I want to…”

  She trailed off, frustrated, struggling to find the right words.

  “Lash out?” he suggested. “I could find something for you to hit. Me, if you must. Perhaps relieve some tension?”

  “It is not quite like that.” She shook her head. “You are not the criminal.” She stopped and frowned, still clenching her fists. “I want to lash out, hit him back, to not feel so helpless that I cannot right this wrong” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “To not feel this overwhelming guilt of not being a better protector to my sister.”

  She swallowed and paused a moment before continuing. “Even though I cannot stop him from hitting us, I still have control, because I can move. I can take action. I can choose to put myself in his path so that he will lash out at me. Yet I cannot strike back because he would take it out on sweet Rose.” She sighed. “Even so, I am not always successful at directing his ire my way.” Her eyes met his. “I want to escape that if but for a moment. That burden of control…yet u
ltimate failure.”

  He, in turn, ironically enough, sought the opposite.

  He sought a means to take back the control his father relentlessly ripped away from him.

  “You do not fail anyone,” he’d replied. “Especially your sister.”

  “Don’t I though?” Sighing again, she sat on one of several chairs randomly placed along the woodland stream and white-knuckled its edges. “Sometimes, I wonder… If I were locked down for but a moment…” she said softly. “If I were not allowed to leave this chair. Might I find peace then?” Something he had never seen before flared in her eyes when they returned to his. “Might I escape if but for a moment?”

  Intrigued, he drifted closer, behind her, aroused by her more than ever…more than usual. He slowly untied her hair ribbon, put his hands over hers, and murmured in her ear, “What if you could escape? Truly. At my hands.”

  “Your hands?” she said softy allowing him to pull her arms behind the chair. He tied her wrists loosely.

  “What if someone happens along,” she whispered, testing the bonds, a flash of dismay in her eyes that she could easily slip free.

  “What if?” he said softly. He pulled the ribbon tighter. His cock strained against his breeches at the hitch in her breathing. The pink staining her cheeks. The sudden desire in her big, vulnerable eyes.

  “Things are different now,” she bit out, ripping him back to the present, referring, naturally, to the chair he had tied her to back then. “We are not those foolish children anymore.”

  “We were not children then.” Bit by bit, so slow it was pure torture, he pulled her dress up. “And we are not children now.” He tilted his head in question. “Where is it, Hannah? Where is the brooch?”

  Her breathing hitched in desire, but her eyes narrowed in warning. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He arched a brow and curled his tongue over his lips in a way she would most certainly recognize. “A treasure hunt then?”

  Her eyes widened, and her pupils flared as she took his meaning.