He sneered the last words, and shame spread through her. It would be hard to claim she had feelings for Petey when she’d just been on the verge of giving herself to Gideon. But that was the only answer that would put him off. Her hands trembled against his immovable chest. “I…I like him, yes.”
“The way you ‘like’ me?” When she glanced away, uncertain what to say to that, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. Despite the dim light, she could tell that desire still held him. And when he spoke again, his voice was edged with the tension of his need. “I don’t care what you agreed to last night. Everything has changed. You can’t possibly still want to marry him after the way you just responded to my touch.”
“That was a mistake,” she whispered, steeling herself to ignore the flare of anger in his eyes. “Petey and I are well suited. I knew him from before, from the Chastity. I know he’s an honorable man, which is why I still intend to marry him.”
A muscle ticked in Gideon’s jaw. “He’s not a bully, you mean. He’s not a wicked pirate like me, out to ‘rape and pillage.’” He pushed away from the trunk with an oath, then spun toward the steps. “Well, he’s not for you, Sara, no matter what you may think. And I’m going to put a stop to his courtship of you right now!”
Terror struck her at once. He could do anything to Petey, anything! “No!” she shouted as she leapt off the trunk and ran after him. “No, Gideon! Stop!”
But he was already halfway up the steps. As she raced after him, her dress came down around her shoulders. She stopped to hook herself up, watching helplessly as he vanished through the hatch above.
Bother it all! she thought as she struggled with the hooks. If she didn’t get up there quickly, Gideon would no doubt have Petey thrown overboard or worse. And she couldn’t let him get away with that. Petey was her only hope of escape, and not even that wretch of a pirate was going to hurt him!
Having just come off the port watch, Petey lay in his hammock carving an image of a ship into a bit of old ivory. The crew’s quarters were deserted, for everyone else was either courting the women or serving on watch duty. If he had his druthers, he’d be with them. He’d be seeking Ann out.
That was impossible, however, and knowing that some foul pirate was even now probably trying to gain her affections put him in a savage mood. He’d taken the only path possible, but it didn’t sit well with him to think that sweet Ann Morris was forbidden to him.
Suddenly, the door to the crew’s quarters shot open, crashing against the wall with such force that Petey nearly fell off his hammock in surprise. In strode the Pirate Lord himself, looking every inch the devil’s spawn, with eyes like night fires and fury on his scarred face. His gaze fell on Petey at once, so virulent that it struck terror into Petey’s breast.
Petey slid warily off his hammock, then backed around it as Captain Horn stalked toward him. “Good even, Cap’n. Is everythin’ all right?”
The captain caught him by his shirt front and lifted him a few inches off the ground until Petey’s face was level with his. “You can’t have her, do you hear? Not now, not ever!”
Shocks of fear crept up along Petey’s spine. It was all he could do to keep from quaking. “Wh-who do you mean, cap’n?”
“You know who I mean, Englishman.” The pirate’s eyes narrowed. “Unless she lied to me about choosing you as husband.”
Ah, so that was who he was talking about. The little miss. Petey swallowed hard. What a bloomin’ nightmare. “Miss Willis didn’t lie, cap’n. I…I asked her to be my wife, and she accepted.”
As the captain moved one hand from his shirt front to clutch him by the throat, Petey tightened his fist on his carving knife. If any other man had taken him by the throat, Petey would have had him on the floor with the knife in his gut. But this was the pirate captain. With such a madman he must tread carefully.
“Let him down!” came a voice behind the captain. It was Miss Willis herself, her hair all atumble about her shoulders and her face blanched white as the ivory scrimshaw in Petey’s other hand. “Let him go, I say!”
“Stay out of this, Sara!” the captain ordered, his fingers tightening around Petey’s throat. Despite the fact that the pirate still held him up by the shirt, Petey’s breath was half cut off by the pirate’s hold on his neck. He sucked hard, trying to force air through the thin passage.
Miss Willis ignored the captain’s words. Coming up behind him, she clutched at his bent arm. “You’re hurting him! Let him down!”
“I’m teaching him a lesson,” Captain Horn ground out. “He needs to be reminded of his station, which on this ship is somewhere beneath cabin boy!”
“And for that you would strangle him to death?”
“For that, yes. And for presuming to court you.” The captain glared at Petey, whose struggle to breathe was becoming more acute. “He doesn’t have the same rights as my men. I should have made that clear before.”
“But I chose him!” She latched onto the captain’s arm like a barnacle. “You said we could choose our own husbands! And I did! I chose who I wanted!”
The sudden silence in the cabin was deafening, punctuated only by the creak of hammocks swaying with the ship’s motion. Slackening his hold on Petey’s neck only slightly, Captain Horn turned his head to fix Miss Willis with a penetrating glance. “Are you telling me that you truly wish to have a low sailor for a husband?”
“If my only other choice is a pirate, yes!” It was an emotional outburst, but as the captain continued to stare at her, she added more firmly, “Of course I wish it. And if you tell him he can’t marry me, then you take away the choice you claimed to give me.” She took a deep breath. “If I can only choose a man you approve of, I have no choice at all, do I?”
The captain scowled at her. Then he threw Petey to the floor with a coarse oath, knocking the scrimshaw and the carving knife from Petey’s hands. Petey gasped for breath as Captain Horn hovered over him, wearing the look of a man who’d just been struck in the noggin by a yardarm and was itching to tear apart the one who’d done it.
When the captain flexed his fingers, then curled them into hard fists at his side, Petey scrambled to his feet and took a fighting stance. He didn’t want to fight the captain, for his policy had been to stay as unnoticed among the pirates as possible. But fight him he would, if that’s what it took to keep himself and the little miss safe.
“Stop this!” Miss Willis cried. “Stop it now, both of you!”
Captain Horn ignored her. Regarding Petey with a mixture of contempt and amusement, he beckoned him on with one hand. “Take your shot, Hargraves. Go ahead, take it!”
Incensed by the pirate’s condescension, Petey kicked out in a movement designed to knock an opponent off his feet. Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back on the floor with the captain standing over him.
A grim smile crossed the captain’s face as he planted his foot on Petey’s chest. “Very good, Hargraves. A smooth maneuver. But whoever taught you to fight that way should also have taught you to ignore your opponent’s taunts. Fighting like an Asian requires thinking like an Asian, which means not letting your emotions get the better of you.”
Petey stared up at him in awe. He’d never met another sailor who knew of such things. But he should’ve realized that if anyone knew them, it would be the Pirate Lord.
To Petey’s surprise, the captain suddenly removed his foot, then held his hand out to him. Petey hesitated a moment before accepting the man’s help in rising to his feet.
Miss Willis pushed around the captain and hurried to Petey’s side, her face distraught as she ran her hands lightly over his arms and chest. “Are you hurt? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, miss, just my pride.” He cast her a rueful smile. “Don’t fret yourself over it. I’m fine.”
It was only when he caught Captain Horn’s assessing glance that he realized he was behaving more like a servant than a fiancé. As he slid his hand around Miss Willis’s waist, ignoring her st
artled expression, he noticed that the pirate watched them with interest.
“Such a touching scene.” Captain Horn’s face wore a look of suspicion and muted anger. “And to think I never guessed until now the grand passion going on beneath my very nose.”
“Like Miss Willis said, she chose me.” Peter thrust out his chest, affecting a protective stance…a little too late, unfortunately. “She probably told you that she and I became friendly on the Chastity.” It was the story both he and Miss Willis had agreed upon last night, though they’d known some would find it less than convincing.
Apparently the captain was one of them. “She did claim something like that.”
Claim. Clearly the man didn’t believe either of them.
Then the scourge of the seas cast a slow, lascivious glance over Miss Willis, making her tremble beneath Petey’s arm. “She and I have also become quite ‘friendly’ in the past two days. Haven’t we, Sara?”
Petey turned to her, surprised to find her blushing furiously. She cast him a guilty look, then lowered her gaze to her hands. “I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about.”
“Of course not,” the captain ground out. “I should’ve expected a two-faced English lady like you to deny the truth about our ‘friendship.’ Well, you may deny it to me, and you may even deny it to this sailor of yours.” He lowered his voice to a threatening hum. “But you’ll have a hell of a hard time denying it to yourself.”
With that strange remark, the captain turned on his heel and stalked out of the foc’sle, slamming the door behind him and leaving Petey feeling all at sea. There was something between the captain and Miss Willis, that much was obvious.
Miss Willis spun away from Petey. “The wretch! The abominable wretch!”
For the first time since she’d entered the crew’s quarters, Petey noticed how disheveled she looked. The modesty piece she always wore was gone, and one of the ties from her chemise dangled outside her bodice. His blood ran cold. “What did he mean, ‘friendly’? What’s that bloody pirate been doin’ to you?”
For a moment she said nary a word. “Nothing I didn’t allow him to do,” she murmured finally.
He groaned. If he ever got Miss Willis out of this mess, her stepbrother was going to murder him. “So he touched you? Did he…I mean, was he…” Petey broke off. The saints be cursed. How did a low sailor like him ask an earl’s stepsister such an indelicate and insulting question?
But he didn’t have to ask. He could tell from the way she colored that she understood his question. Steadying her shoulders, she fixed him with a too bright gaze. “He didn’t…deflower me, if that’s what you’re asking. And he won’t. Not ever.” When his only response was to raise an eyebrow, she added, “You needn’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I can see that. That’s why y’ve got the cap’n sniffin’ after you like a tomcat on the prowl.”
She cast him a look that could’ve cut glass, it was that sharp. “I can handle Captain Horn, Petey. You just concentrate on getting us away from these wretched pirates.”
Then she hurried from the cabin, leaving him to wonder just how he was supposed to manage her escape when he couldn’t even keep her safe from the Pirate Lord—or herself.
Chapter 12
Oh, England is a pleasant place for them that’s rich and high,
But England is a cruel place for such poor folks as I;
And such a port for mariners I ne’er shall see again
As the pleasant Isle of Avés, beside the Spanish main.
—ANONYMOUS, “THE LAST BUCCANEER”
“What do you think?” Sara asked Louisa, as they stood on deck peering at the horizon shortly after breakfast the next morning. It had been almost half an hour since the lookout had shouted “Land ho!” and they could still make out only a speck of mottled brown past the glassy sea.
“Hard to say. It’s still too far away to tell much.”
A crowd of women surrounded them, pushing against the rails in their eagerness to glimpse their new home. Ann Morris shoved her way through to stand at Sara’s elbow, her dark curls framing an eager, rosy face. “Is that it?” Ann shifted a stack of dirty plates from one hand to the other. “Is that Atlantis Island?”
“We’re not sure,” Sara said, “but we think so. We seem to be making for it. And the captain did tell me it would take only two days’ sail.”
Ann squinted at the speck. “P’raps we should ask Pe tey to let us get a look at it through the spyglass. He’d find a way to get one for us, I’ll wager.”
“Oh, I’m sure if Miss Willis asked, he’d be only too happy to oblige,” Louisa remarked absently. “Now that she’s going to marry him, he—”
A sudden crash made both Sara and Louisa whirl toward Ann. The little woman stood staring down at a pile of broken crockery, her fist pressed to her mouth.
“Ann?” Sara asked as the Welshwoman bent and began to gather the broken pieces up, placing them quickly in her apron. “Ann, are you all right?” She knelt beside Ann, who was crying now, big, fat tears rolling down her apple cheeks. “Good heavens, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’,” Ann protested, keeping her gaze averted from Sara. “It-it’s nothin’. I just lost my grip on them, is all.”
“But you’re crying—”
Louisa’s hand on Sara’s shoulder cut her off. Louisa bent to murmur in her ear, “Leave her be. I shouldn’t have said that in front of her, but I thought she’d already heard the news.”
“Heard what news?” Sara lifted her head to ask.
“That you and Petey are engaged, of course.”
It was true that Sara had told as many of the women as possible once she’d left the crew’s quarters last night, but she hadn’t thought it would disturb any of them. Sara stared blankly at Louisa, then glanced at Ann, who’d gathered up all the crockery and had now risen to hurry away through the crowd.
That’s when the truth hit Sara. Oh, how could she have been so stupid? She’d paid no attention to Ann’s worshipful comments about Petey, to the way she’d always fussed over him on the Chastity.
Ann was in love with Petey—and Sara’s engagement to him must be killing her. She must’ve had her heart set on marrying Petey herself. Guilt hit Sara full force. She’d blithely agreed to Petey’s plan without stopping to think whom else it might hurt. Poor Ann.
It didn’t help to tell herself that Petey probably didn’t even share the Welshwoman’s affections, and that he’d be gone as soon as he could find a way off the island. No, it didn’t help one jot. Ann had never had much in her life, and now the only hope she’d clung to was being ripped away from her. By Sara, who’d never wanted anything but to make the women happy.
She watched as Ann beat a hasty retreat into the galley. Then she rose and turned to Louisa. “Did you know she had her eye on Petey?”
Louisa nodded. “But don’t worry. I understand why you and Petey joined together, even if Ann doesn’t. You’re the only two in this unholy crowd who aren’t criminals of one sort or another. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to marry a convict, and I certainly can’t blame you for not wanting to marry a pirate.” She shrugged. “People generally stick to their kind. It’s something I learned…a long time ago.”
The wistfulness in Louisa’s voice made a lump from in Sara’s throat. Louisa had never spoken much about her past, but Sara had made some conjectures. The man she’d stabbed had been the eldest son of a duke. It would’ve been easy to fall in love with such a man, but as a governess, Louisa could never have hoped to marry the heir to a title. Still, if she’d been in love with him, what could the man have done to make her angry enough to stab him? A simple refusal to marry her didn’t seem like enough provocation for a woman of Louisa’s breeding and intelligence. There must have been more to the story, much more.
But Louisa wasn’t the type to talk about her crime as some of the others were wont to do, so Sara wasn’t likely to find out the truth. It was a pity. Sh
e would like to help Louisa.
Help Louisa. The way she’d helped Ann. Louisa could do without such help.
“I don’t see any trees,” Louisa commented, obviously determined to turn the subject away from herself.
Still swamped with guilt, Sara returned her gaze to the horizon. Now the speck had grown to a shapeless blob, still brown and unlikely looking. “That’s what Gideon calls a ‘paradise’?” she speculated aloud.
Louisa slanted a curious look at her. “Gideon? You’re on a first-name basis with our good captain?”
Hot color stained Sara’s cheeks. “No, of course not. I-I meant to say, Captain Horn.” That was something else she had to feel guilty about—her disastrous encounter with him yesterday. He’d avoided her ever since, and with good reason. She should never have allowed him such blatant liberties. It gave him the wrong idea entirely.
“I wouldn’t get too close to Captain Horn, if I were you,” Louisa remarked in a low voice, her face carefully blank.
“I’m not friendly with him.”
Louisa arched one eyebrow. “Good. Then you won’t mind that he sent Barnaby down to the hold late last night to fetch Queenie to his bed.”
Her gaze flew to Louisa’s. “He did what?”
“You said you weren’t close to him.”
Jerking her gaze back to the horizon, Sara fought for some semblance of nonchalance. “I’m not. I’m just…appalled that he would do such a thing after he told the men to behave as gentlemen until the marriage vows were said.” And after he spent the afternoon trying to seduce me.
A hot surge of jealousy swept through her despite all her attempts to quell it. Glancing up to where Gideon was manning the helm and shouting orders to his sailors, she grimaced. In his scandalous leather vest and form-fitting breeches, he looked exactly like what he truly was—a randy satyr who would seduce anything in skirts. She’d been right not to trust him. For all his soft words, his overtures to her had been meaningless. He’d never intended anything but a quick seduction.
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