There was no reason for this feeling. Jacques would ensure Sarah was safe; Chunk and Lucky would take care of the ship and crew. It made no sense to feel this unease and yet it dogged him from the main hatch, under the boom to the gunwale and the rope ladder, which would lower him into the awaiting longboat. Lucky was at the gunwale waiting.
“It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you killed the bastard tonight.” Lucky grinned. “Save us some time.”
“If I can without bringing the whole of Tortuga after us, you can be sure I will.”
“We’ll be waitin’ for you either way,” Lucky said.
Aidan nodded, grabbed the rope and swung a leg over the gunwale. The moment he did he felt sick, as though something heavy had fallen into the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He’d felt it since leaving Sarah and Jacques in his cabin and the feeling hadn’t lessened. If anything, it kept getting stronger. He couldn’t point to one reason or thing that was wrong; he only sensed something was.
It was too dim to see faces but Aidan knew his men were surprised when he put his foot back on deck, strode away from the ladder toward his cabin. It was almost as though there was a shift in the air.
Chunk came down from the quarterdeck. “Something wrong, Cap’n?” he asked.
“Won’t be for long,” Aidan answered as he opened the hatch. He hurried down the ladder into his cabin, his scabbard slapping his thigh as he went.
Jacques looked up from where he sat at the table. Sarah was in the corner of the berth, her back against the wall and her arms clasped tightly around her folded legs. The sheen in her eyes was unmistakable. Shame sat as heavy as the unease he’d felt all day. He hadn’t realized how truly frightened she was.
But neither did he have time to coddle her.
Aidan moved below the ladder where her bag rested next to his trunk.
The ropes beneath the mattress creaked as she moved. “Did you forget something?”
“I’ve decided you’re coming with me after all, but I can’t have you in Tortuga dressed like that.” He tossed her the bag. “Put your trousers and shirt back on.”
“She’s going with you?” Jacques asked, coming to his feet. “I thought—”
“Change of plans. Let’s give Miss Santiago some privacy to change.” He looked at her, didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were no longer sad. They were bright with excitement.
Hell.
He felt as though either way, whether he took her along or not, his plan was in jeopardy. But he couldn’t control everything and at the moment he felt taking Sarah along was the smartest thing.
He bloody hoped he wasn’t going to regret it.
*
After steering the longboat to the edge of the main harbor, Aidan pulled it ashore, dragged it over a low wall of shrubs into a copse of candlewood trees. Knowing it was as secure as he could keep it, he and Sarah made their way onto the sand where the beach stretched before them, a pale white ribbon trimmed with conchs, limp piles of drying seaweed, and scattered driftwood that, judging by its ashen color, had long since washed ashore.
Luckily, if slightly surprising, the beach was empty save for them. While night had fallen, it was early yet by Tortuga standards. With the dozens of ships ranging from sloops to galleons, he’d expect some sailors to be meandering the beach.
When he’d brought Sarah up from the cabin with him, the apprehension he’d been feeling surged, solidifying in his mind he was making the right choice by taking her with him. After he’d rowed away from the Revenge, and the disquiet he’d felt on deck, it had eased and he’d been able to take his first deep breath of the day.
Unfortunately, while he no longer had the crew to worry about, her presence managed to create another heap of problems. Aye, if someone didn’t look too closely, she could be mistaken for a lad with her trousers and loose-fitting shirt. But even with one of his coats—as the shirt alone had done little to hide the sway of her breasts—and her tresses tucked underneath a large-brimmed hat, she was still Roche’s daughter and he couldn’t be sure what she’d do if she spotted the scoundrel.
Which meant he had to keep her close.
Therein lay the heart of his troubles.
Too close and he smelled her skin, was captivated by her movements. His whole body attuned to her nearness. Not close enough and he worried about keeping her safe, keeping her from attracting unwanted attention.
For now, that didn’t appear to be a concern, but once they were off the beach and into the heart of Tortuga it sure would be.
Beside him Sarah inhaled deeply. “Does it always smell so wonderful?”
“That’s roasting pig you smell. There’s always meat of some sort being smoked here.”
She faced him, eyes wide in delight. “Does it taste as heavenly as it smells?”
“Aye.” And his grumbling stomach reminded him it too remembered how succulent it was.
“It’s making my mouth water,” she said, drawing his attention to it.
Teasing him with other things within reach that were succulent, that he wanted the taste of on his tongue.
Desire flooded his loins. Any other time he wouldn’t have cared, because Tortuga, of all places, was the ideal spot for finding a willing wench. This time, however, he wouldn’t be able to slake his lust here. And even if he could somehow manage it he had a feeling it wouldn’t be near as satisfying as it had been during previous visits.
Because it wouldn’t be Sarah writhing passionately beneath him.
“Is it always like this?” she gasped.
Aidan’s feet stumbled in the sand. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t reading his thoughts. The trees had given way to the town and the debauchery that was Tortuga unfolded before them. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to lose himself in senseless fantasies. He did, however, take a moment to study his surroundings.
While Tortuga was named for its shape, which resembled a turtle, Aidan had always considered it more like a pie. Here on the outskirts was the crust. A few derelict establishments had rooted here and their signs groaned as the wind pushed them on their rusted hooks. The torches flanking the doors were weak and forlorn, much as the buccaneers and pirates stumbling their way inside.
A few children ran wild, scrounging for food or whatever else they could steal. Mongrel dogs and scrawny cats chased each other further up the dirt street. Ahead, the center of town, glowing like a beacon, was the heart of the pie. Here was where the true flavor of Tortuga lay. And as they made their way toward it, Aidan wondered what Sarah thought of it all.
Samantha hated it. Indeed, she’d kept him from it every time they’d made port. He’d known all along she was trying to protect him, keep him innocent as long as she could. Luke, on the other hand, came alive here. He loved everything about it. The mixed smells of meat, rum, sweat, and sex. The sounds of raucous laughter, fights, and cursing. Being surrounded by his brethren.
When Samantha had given up being Steele and she and Luke had turned to ship building, Luke had insisted on taking their first creation out. Not only for a few hours. He’d insisted in order to test its true merit the ship would need a few days’ venture. Possibly a week. And so with Joe—Sam’s first mate when she’d been Steele—and a small crew, Aidan had joined Luke on the newly built sloop. Looking back, Sam could have no doubt as to where Luke was headed but as Aidan was no longer a young boy, she’d kept her disapproval to herself.
Aidan remembered how different Tortuga had looked when he’d finally been able to walk through it. He hadn’t enjoyed it to the extent Luke did but neither had he hated it as Sam did. He was always happy to come, find a wench, and enjoy a day or so of entertainment away from the monotony at sea, but he was as happy to leave and resume his work on a ship, where, despite the boredom some days, he was truly happiest.
He couldn’t imagine what Sarah was thinking seeing the whores with their bosoms barely contained—a few hadn’t even managed that—drunkards vomiting agains
t the sides of the taverns and pirates of every shape and size weaving from one side of the street to the taverns on the other. Here the torches blazed like the sun. From the doorways spilled the din of foot-tapping music, the crash of glass and the thud of tables being overturned as the typical brawls were clearly under way.
Casting a glance Sarah’s way, he was surprised to see the wonder she’d displayed on the beach remained etched on her face. Her eyes darted here and there as though she couldn’t take it all in fast enough. They widened at the half-naked women and her hand flew to her throat when the men heaved into the street. Despite it all she still seemed intrigued by everything she saw.
“This doesn’t disgust you?” he couldn’t help but ask. He’d honestly expected her to have the same opinion Sam had.
Excitement reflected in her eyes when she looked at him. “I cannot believe such a place exists. I’ve heard, of course, all sorts of stories about pirates and how unsavory a lot they are but—” She stopped, gaped. “I mean—”
He chuckled, knowing she wasn’t speaking of him personally. “I know what you meant.”
“Well, even hearing the stories, this is all so much… more colorful,” she finished.
Colorful. He supposed that was as apt a description as any. When they crossed another street and Aidan recognized the sounds and what they meant, he grabbed her arm, urged her to keep walking. Sarah dug in her heels, looked down the alley.
A strumpet sprawled on the street, her skirts raised, her breasts bare for anyone to see. The pirate’s trousers pooled around his boots as his hips thrust quickly against hers. Other than his pale backside and her overripe breasts, there wasn’t much else to see.
But there was little doubt what they were doing.
Sarah’s eyes had never been wider. “Are they… Is he…”
Aidan’s face burned. He was horrified. Not by what he was seeing, or even that Sarah’s first glimpse of sex—no matter how crude—was in his presence, but that seeing it with Sarah at his side aroused him. Thank the devil for the coat he wore.
“Yes, he is. They are.” He tugged her along until they were past. He would have preferred to keep a hold of her arm but as she was dressed as a boy, doing so would guarantee all kinds of attention. Exactly the opposite of what he hoped to achieve.
“Where are we headed?” she asked.
He pointed up the street. “A place called Doubloons.” And, to Aidan’s mind, they couldn’t get there fast enough. Although once there he’d have other worries.
“You’ll do as you promised?”
She had to tip her head back to see him under the wide brim of her hat. “I won’t speak, only nod. I’ll keep my head down lest anyone notice I’m a woman and I’ll stay close to you.”
Well, she was clear on the rules. It remained to be seen if she would adhere to them should she happen to spot Roche.
“Good. With any luck at all we will—”
The doors burst open from a tavern on Aidan’s right and at least half its occupants surged out in a shouting, cursing onslaught that Aidan was unable to deflect. He grabbed Sarah’s arm but the force of men careening into them, jarring and shoving them, broke Aidan’s hold. One moment he had Sarah by the arm and the next he couldn’t even see her in the jumble of pirates and buccaneers intent on pummeling each other.
Bloody hell, where was she? Aidan shoved back, trying to move through the grappling bodies while looking for the wide-brimmed hat. Dammit, he couldn’t see her. His heart knocked in his chest. She could easily be trampled or stabbed in this and he’d be unable to help her.
Someone fell into him then, knocking Aidan sideways. Stumbling, he smacked into another man.
“Get off me!” the man yelled and shoved him back.
Aidan’s blood pounded and his fists were ready but he didn’t have time to brawl, he needed to find Sarah. Using his elbows he tried to cut through the mass of men but for every step he managed to take forward he was propelled back another two. Gnashing his teeth, Aidan was considering using his pistol when—
There! That was Sarah’s hat. He angled to the left, tried to keep the hat in sight amid the sea of churning men.
“Goin’ somewhere, mate?”
The fist smashed into Aidan’s jaw before he saw it coming. His head whipped back. For a moment, he saw nothing but white stars. He shook his head, cursed as his vision wavered before settling. Before he could retaliate someone came up behind him, locked their arm around his throat.
“I’ve got ’im!” The shout pierced Aidan’s ear.
Aidan struggled for breath. He gripped the arm choking him, pulled as hard as he could. It wouldn’t budge. The cur who’d hit him sneered as he drew back and plowed his fist into Aidan’s gut. What little air remained in his lungs blew out as pain exploded in his belly. The back of his throat burned with bile. Hell, if he threw up now, he’d choke on it and die.
Gasping, Aidan struggled to slow his heart, calm himself. His vision was starting to grey at the corners. He looked up, saw his assailant now had a dagger in his hands. Fire from the torches lighting the street burned on the blade, promised searing pain. A swaying, bleeding pirate fell into his attacker. The scoundrel wasted no time slashing out and the already wounded scallywag toppled to the dirty street.
When the man once again came at him, Aidan was ready. Using the arm banded around his neck as leverage, he leaned back, bent his knees and kicked the pirate in the chest. The man dropped like a sack of sand. Then, knowing he was running out of time, Aidan snapped his head back into his captor’s face. The resounding crack was nearly as satisfying as the release on his throat.
Aidan staggered away. Breath heaving and throat burning, he grabbed a pistol with one hand and whipped the cutlass from its scabbard with the other. Finally, the crowd had thinned enough for him to draw his sword. Now he saw why. A good portion of the men was now unconscious on the ground. With his weapons pointed in warning, Aidan moved in a tight circle.
He needn’t have bothered; the brawl was waning. Of the dozen or so left standing, only a few continued to fight, but their punches were halfhearted at best. The others were already stepping over the fallen in order to resume their drinking in the tavern.
The remaining, that was, except Sarah. She was nowhere to be seen. While he was relieved she wasn’t among those on the ground, neither was she among those walking away. His gaze shot up the street. He’d told her where they were headed. He had no doubt that was where he’d find her.
Aidan shoved the cutlass into the scabbard and broke out in a run. Bloody hell, he had to get to her before she found Roche.
If he didn’t he’d be lucky to get out of Tortuga with his life.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah hadn’t completely lied. When she’d promised Aidan to stay close and say nothing, she’d meant only if it proved to be in her best interest. But when they were suddenly surrounded by brawling pirates and she lost both contact with and sight of Aidan, things changed. At first, her concern was for her safety. There were so many of them closing in on her. The smell of sweat and filth spread up her nose, down her throat. She’d struggled not to wretch.
Elbows dug into her shoulders, heavy feet crushed her toes. Pure luck had her escaping a fist to the face but she caught another on the side of her head and it knocked her to her knees. Her ears rang and it took a moment to realize what had happened. When another pirate slammed into her, lost his balance and nearly landed on top of her, Sarah knew she had to move or she’d be crushed.
With one hand firmly on her hat—a miracle it remained on her head—Sarah crouched and weaved through the tangle of bodies. She hit the street more than once, winced as first one knee then the other scraped the dirt, but she kept plowing ahead until she burst from the throng. Sarah gulped in air, shuddered as the smell of filth finally receded.
The air cracked with the sound of flesh on bone, the snarls of the men doing the hitting and the grunts of those being hit. Sarah couldn’t see Aidan anywhere. S
he pressed onto her toes, jumped. All to no avail.
But she knew he was armed and from what she’d seen thus far he was capable. She, on the other hand, had no weapon and no experience and knew she couldn’t linger on the fringes of the melee without someone eventually noticing her and dragging her back into it. Knowing Aidan was headed for Doubloons, Sarah sent out a hasty prayer he wouldn’t be hurt and raced ahead. As it happened, it was closer than expected and she’d only ran past three or four establishments before she saw the sign over Doubloons’ thick, carved door.
Apparently this tavern was a favorite of the pirates. The smoke-smudged windows shook from the activity within. When the trio of pirates ahead of her opened the door she was assailed by a deafening blast of noise. Sarah wished she had the luxury of catching her breath, calming her racing heart, but Aidan wouldn’t be far behind her and if she was ever going to get the truth about her father, it was going to be now. She pulled her hat lower on her brow, wiped her hands on her trousers and, with a trembling hand, stepped inside.
It wasn’t difficult to see why Doubloons attracted such a large crowd. Pretty young wenches strolled between the tables, their smiles nearly as large as their bosoms as they served the men their drinks. If they leaned forward more than necessary nobody was complaining. From the corner, a small group of surprisingly talented musicians played a lively tune. A quick glance showed many tapping their feet or moving their heads to the tempo.
Behind her, the door opened again, propelling Sarah forward. Directly into the group of pirates who’d entered before her.
“Watch where you’re walking, whelp!”
Sarah dipped her head, tugged on the brim of her hat for apology. She was easing aside when another shouted, “Aye, Santiago!”
Sarah froze. Her heart lurched to her throat and gooseflesh peppered her skin. Had she been recognized already? How was it possible? She hadn’t said a word nor looked directly at anyone. But before she could question any further he continued, “There’s a lad for ya.”
In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) Page 16
