Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  “Sold!”

  Alice jumped at the auctioneer’s gleeful tone, and the stranger lifted his arm in the air in acknowledgment of the triumph.

  “Step forward, sir, and let us arrange your new purchase!”

  The gentleman’s compelling blue gaze burned into Alice’s face.

  “They’re calling for me,” he whispered, lowering his head to meet her eyes. “Though I wish it wasn’t true, for I should far rather spend another moment with you, beautiful, than take ownership of any ship.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “The Dexterity does not belong to you!” she snapped, stamping her foot in a show of defiance.

  His grin grew at her fiery demonstration. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, darling,” he drawled. “That ship is mine.”

  Five weeks later

  The air was as black as the general mood of the docklands. While she scuttled down the cobbled streets, Alice wondered, not for the first time, what on earth she was doing in this God forsaken part of the city at this time of night. But that was a futile thought. Irrelevant, because she knew precisely what she was doing here, and every fiber of her body realized why it was important.

  “Come on, Alice,” she muttered under her breath as she clutched her small travel bag to her chest. “Keep it together. You can do this.”

  But as she hurried out of one alleyway into another, the sounds of a nearby ale house made her heart race even faster.

  “Hello pretty.”

  The heckle of a man drew her attention temporarily, and instinctively, Alice turned toward the place it had originated. She glanced at the gentleman in horror—if the term gentleman could be used to describe such a street urchin. The man was filthy, his face covered in black smudges which helped to make his wide blue gaze all the more errant as he glanced over his shoulder at Alice. For one terrible moment, Alice’s feet halted as though she was paralyzed with fear at what she was witnessing. The man’s body was facing the wall of an ale house, and though it was dark in the shadows, it appeared he was urinating against it. Alice gasped as realization washed over her. Never in her life had she been subjected to such crude and disgusting behavior. As the thought reverberated, her feet were moving again, carrying her away from his sneering grin as fast as she could possibly manage.

  The docklands were dangerous—as the cretinous man had exemplified—and were certainly no place for a lady, but Alice was out of options. In the weeks which followed the auction, she had wracked her brain, trying to envision a way to win back her father’s dream, but short of an act of God, it was hopeless. Alice had courted the advice of her late father’s solicitor, Mr. Arthur Roundhouse, desperate to see if the auction sale could be invalidated. How was it fair that some random gentleman could stalk into Christie’s at the last minute and snatch away the Dexterity from her like that? That ship was as much Alice’s inheritance as Winter’s Lodge, and it was imperative she had it.

  Fury and frustration had risen in her when the solicitor had advised there was nothing to be done. She recalled the way the older man had shaken his head while he told her the news—the ship now indeed belonged to this stranger, Mr. Edward Law, and that was that.

  “It’s better you let it go now, Alice,” Roundhouse had told her in a stern voice. “And concentrate on the things that are important—like finding a husband to take on your estate and raising a family of your own.”

  Alice snorted, temporarily forgetting where she was as anger at the solicitor’s words pulsed through her again. He was just another ignorant man. The world seemed to be full of them! And each had an opinion on what she should do, what she should wear, and say. Apparently, it troubled them all beyond reason that her father should have no surviving male heirs, and now his money and property passed to Alice by law. She smiled to herself as that thought resonated. Alice was glad for it. Being furious meant she was no longer afraid or at least, not half so afraid as she should have been as she scurried across the cobbles toward the jetty.

  The moon rose high in the sky, lighting her journey as she crossed onto the wooden planks bobbing on the sea. The surface felt precarious—just like this whole plan—but there was no turning back now. It was far too late for second thoughts. As Alice darted across the jetty, she could dimly hear the bells of St. Clements chiming behind her. It was midnight. The sailors and vagabonds would soon be spilling out of the local taverns, and she had discovered quite enough about the nature of men to know, she did not want to be found in the moonlight when that happened. With one final effort, Alice tiptoed her way across the thin plank of wood that stood between the jetty and the Dexterity. She would have liked to use her arms to balance, but the weight of her bag made that untenable, so instead, she pushed on, edging forward, inch-by-inch as her gaze fixed on the ship.

  Don’t look down, she counseled herself as she neared the edge of the Dexterity. Don’t look down. Just keep moving forward.

  Relief emanated from Alice as she reached the ship. Sliding her bag down the direction of the deck, her hands clasped the wood ahead.

  She’d made it!

  Excitement and anxiety warred in her head as she forced herself to mount the side of the ship and hoist her body over the edge, not an elegant entrance by any means. She landed in a heap on the deck below, but fortunately, there was no one there to witness Alice’s humiliation—a fact she was certain about but still, absurdly grateful for. In the days that had preceded this plan to board the Dexterity, Alice had spent evenings by the docks—learning about the layout, the low-life, and critically, ascertaining the ship was not yet inhabited. The information she had managed to bribe from a couple of local women who seemed to frequent the ale houses assured her Law had been working on the Dexterity, yet as she surveyed the magnificence of the ship from dry land, it was clear neither the captain nor his crew were yet on board.

  Clambering around on the deck in search of her bag, a knot of fresh trepidation rose to Alice’s chest. What if the information hadn’t been accurate? Of course, it was easy to see there was no one awake on deck, but why would there be? It was still possible the crew could be asleep below deck or worse, they could be headed back in her direction from a tavern at this very moment.

  As soon as Alice’s hands found her bag, she climbed to her feet and scampered toward the stern. There was no way she could risk being found so early in her audacious plan, particularly by a group of intoxicated sailors. Alice was green in the ways of mankind, but she was no fool. She had an idea the kinds of things men liked to do with women after one too many ales, and no man worthy of Law’s crew was the kind of gentleman she wished to encounter.

  So, why are you here?

  The niggling insecurity flashed through her mind. If you don’t want to associate with these men, why come here in the first place?

  Alice sighed at the thought, disappointed with herself for raising the issue again. She had to come. She simply had to. Alice was obliged to take ownership of the ship which should have been hers—and would have been—if Law had not snatched it from her fingertips. She owed that much to her father, and it was that loyalty which compelled her as she inched across the deck, trying to keep to the shadows as far as possible.

  She knew the layout of the Dexterity like the back of her hand, having studied her father’s designs on many occasions and knew the captain’s quarters were in this direction. They would be the safest place on the whole ship—at least until Law arrived, but even then, Alice knew something he did not. She knew about the secret space her father had designed into his rooms, designed with concealment in mind—a place the captain or his guests could hide should the ship ever be boarded by pirates. Alice shuddered as that idea reverberated.

  Pirates.

  The small hairs on her arms rose beneath her gown and shawl at the thought of the lawless bandits who sailed the oceans, stealing from passing vessels and wreaking havoc across the King’s oceans.

  However bad things seemed now, at least Alice could seek comfort in the fact her father’s pride an
d joy had not been stolen by pirates.

  Chapter 2

  Edward

  It had been five weeks since the auction, and now, as he stood at the dock eyeing the Dexterity in the first shards of the morning light, Edward Law could not resist the grin that spread across his face.

  “Pleased with how she turned out, huh?”

  Edward turned at the question to find his first mate and oldest friend, Carlisle, beaming beside him on the jetty.

  “She was pretty decent, to begin with,” Edward replied, folding his arms over his chest as the sun glinted off the ship’s stern. “But yeah, the weeks of hard work have paid off. She’s immaculate.”

  Carlisle nodded his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Does that mean we set sail soon, Ed? The boys and I are tired of all this land living. It’s been nearly two months!”

  Edward chuckled. His crew had grown restless in the time they had been waiting in London, and he could understand. They had sampled the best of what the city had to offer in the first few days, and after the novelty of the ale and the women had grown old, they were all eager to get back out to sea. That was where they belonged, where they all felt free, and freedom meant a lot to men like Edward Law. When you lived as he lived, profiteering from someone else’s misfortune, it did not pay to be docked for too long. And it certainly did not do to draw too much attention to yourself. That was why buying the Dexterity had been such a gamble—a calculated risk. Folks were bound to notice an elegant ship like this in the docklands and the men who boarded her.

  Carlisle was right. It was time to leave.

  “Aye,” Edward answered as he turned to face his first mate. “Spread the word. We set sail at ten. All hands to the deck.”

  Carlisle grinned. “Aye, Captain,” he replied with a wink. “I’ll get the men to work, right away.”

  Edward watched as Carlisle strode away, already directing the group of men assembled at the docks. He trusted his crew and knew they would follow orders. The ship would be ready to begin her maiden voyage by ten o’clock, and that meant he had to be as well. He leapt onto the plank of wood separating the Dexterity from the jetty and walked casually across before landing onboard his ship.

  His ship.

  Those words echoed around his head as he glanced around. Yes, the Dexterity was his now, and the thought made him happier than any of the plunder he had obtained from his years of piracy. She may have been the first thing he had ever bought legitimately, but it made her no less special. In fact, it made her unique. Running a finger over her bow, Edward recalled the moment news of the demise of Mr. Jaggers had reached him. The Dexterity had been Jaggers’ dream, and the man had helped design her for His Majesty’s new fleet, but fate had intervened—as she so often did—and ensured that was not to be the destiny of this ship. The Dexterity did not belong to the King. She had been Jaggers’ pride and joy, but she did not belong to him either. She had fallen into an ungainly state of disrepair after the old man had died, and apparently, the King’s purse was no longer prepared to finance her, so that created an opportunity.

  An opportunity for a man like Law to do the right thing for once. The Dexterity was the first ship he had not taken by force, but her acquisition was all the more satisfying. Taking what had once been Jaggers’ dream and setting her to work for his ill-gotten gains was truly something special indeed, and as Edward’s gaze took in the breadth of the ship, he grinned again.

  “The crew is coming on board, Captain.”

  He turned to see Wiley smiling as he offered Edward an enthusiastic salute.

  “Good,” Edward replied. “See that they do. We set sail in just over three hours.”

  Edward turned, striding toward the stern and his secluded quarters. The captain’s quarters were, of course, the largest and most indulgent space on the entire ship, and as he marched up the small wooden stairwell that led to his personal privacy, Edward was once again reminded of the genius of Jaggers’ mind. The gentleman may have been the bane of Law’s life—the reason why he had spent years rotting behind bars in gaol—and his harshest critic, but his head for engineering was unsurpassed. In all his many years at sea, Edward had never surveyed a ship like The Dexterity. She was colossal in stature and would look mighty impressive as she cut through the water, but it was the tiny features that made his pulse quicken. The attention to detail of the fittings and fixtures, and no place on the whole vessel exemplified that more than his quarters.

  Throwing back the door with gusto, Edward gazed around the room in triumph, his focus landing on the sumptuous chair positioned at one side of the space, sitting beyond the exquisite teak desk. Those pieces alone must have been worth a fortune, and now, he got to enjoy them day in and day out while he directed the Dexterity back in the direction of the Caribbean. Experience had taught him those waters were profitable, and in a ship as agile and impressive as this one, there would be few vessels on the oceans that could halt his pursuit.

  He grinned, marching toward the desk to assess his maps. Edward had analysed them so many times, he should know every inch of them by heart, yet somehow, he never tired of looking. There was just something about the scene—the whole world splayed out like a maiden desperate for him, and Law intended to take her, over and over again until they were both utterly spent. Falling into the impressive seat, his boots propped up on the edge of the ornate desk, he regarded the rest of the room. Sitting there, Edward felt less like the pirate he was, more like a king on his throne. He smiled at the analogy, pleased with how well his plans were turning out. Soon, The Dexterity would leave port, and once he put some serious water between him and English shores again, he could really start to relax.

  “Time for a drink,” he announced theatrically, waving the dirty cuffs of his shirt as his arms shifted. “Yes, I think I will.”

  Edward’s feet landed on the sleek wooden floor with a thud, and unthinkingly, he made his way toward the decanter, sitting on a silver tray on the ledge by the window, its fine crystal catching the light in tens of simultaneous directions. He had stolen the tray from His Majesty’s flagship, the Invader, and it was only onboard, he had also discovered the priceless decanter. Naturally, he had seized it for himself, and the thing now had pride of place in the sunlight, its position solitary, save for the small tumbler which sat beside it. Pouring himself rum, Edward raised the glass and swirled the liquor around. Yes, it was early in the day, but that had never stopped him before, and anyhow, this was not just any day. This was the day he took the Dexterity and degraded her in the best way possible—taking a craft designed for royalty and making her a vessel for his piracy.

  It was damn near perfect.

  Striding the short distance to the place the looking glass hung on the wall, Edward paused, staring at his reflection, his lips curling at what he saw. He may not have had the best start to life, not privy to a gentlemen’s wealth and education, but he’d done alright. He was a man made good, and if his eyes did not deceive him, he was a man who could still capture the attention of a woman when he wanted to. His dark locks were pulled back into an unruly braid, and it was true, his shirt and jacket had seen better days, but those things were superficial. He could find new attire, and he would, that was not a problem, but what he could not steal from any bounty was the sharp cheekbones and dark glinting eyes that met his gaze. Those were irreplaceable and the features ladies found difficult to resist.

  Edward grinned as he lifted the tumbler again.

  “To your good health, Captain Law,” he called out. “And to the virgin mission of the Dexterity.”

  Chapter 3

  Alice

  Huddled in her small hiding space, Alice heard every word. She had been dozing when the door to the room crashed open, the noise so loud, it caused her heart to pound out of control as she wriggled onto her hands and knees. Edging forward, Alice crawled toward the tiny gap in the wood that permitted her to see something of what was going on in the captain’s quarters. Of course, logically, there was
only one reason the door should have been forced open so abruptly, and Alice knew it only too well, yet as she stared into the room, holding her breath out of instinct, she needed to clarify the thought for herself.

  Her gaze fell over the man who had marched into the space—at least, as much of him as she could see from this vantage—and swore her heart stopped altogether as her brain registered his identity. As expected, it was the man from the auction, the one who had snatched The Dexterity right from underneath Alice.

  He must be the captain. He must be Law.

  She gulped as that realization washed over her like cold water.

  He was the captain—surely, she had guessed as much—yet seeing him there in the flesh took Alice by surprise.

  Alice watched as best she could as he collapsed into the fine seat and promptly proceeded to rest his filthy looking boots on the corner of the grand teak desk.

  “Heathen!” she mouthed, biting her lip as she regarded him.

  What kind of captain would sully such fine furniture? But then, what kind of captain dressed that way? It was certainly not the dress of any naval officer she ever witnessed, and Alice had seen a fair few uniformed captains meet with her father over the years. No, the attire this gentleman was wearing was far less noble. It was dirtier for sure, but more than that—it was less kept and more rugged. A spike of awareness rose in her hunched body at that. It was more rugged. Twisting her neck to take in the look of his face again, Alice decided the clothing suited him. In another world, the gentleman might have had a handsome complexion. His features were striking, his lips parted as he apparently considered something of importance. Alice could not see all of him from this awkward position, but there was no doubt, his profile was fine indeed, and she recalled the intensity of his gaze at the auction with disconcerting ease. He was smiling now, positively grinning as though he had remembered something which amused him.