by Suzie Grant
The trail back to his ship gave way to the opened clearing. Just beyond, the painted horizon
twinkled with the first appearance of stars. Seagulls dipped and amassed at the edge of the cerulean
water. His men all sat about in various spots along the beach front in small groups, cleaning up debris.
The scent of charred wood carried on the breeze and a niggling warning showed its ugly face.
Something didn’t fit. Where was his ship?
“Why aren’t they on the ship, Mr. Santiago?”
One of his crew tossed a burnt plank of wood into the sea. “Why the hell aren’t they readying the
ship—” His voice broke off. Realization dawned on him and his eyes widened.
The empty cove opened to a vast, blue blanket, and a tiny dot rode on its horizon. Waves broke on
the sand and washed up scorched wreckage.
Blac hung his head, clamping his jaw tight. “How?” His voice barely registered among the crowded
men. No one answered. Blac ticked the seconds by in his head. Someone cleared his throat nervously.
“How!”
“She set the barrels of rum waiting to be loaded on fire as a distraction, Cap’n. She and her men
had the sails raised before the smoke cleared enough for us to see her,” Rigo confessed.
Both fists clenched at Blac’s side. He imagined her little neck in them. “By God I’ll kill her! She
stole my ship!”
“And burned the rum!” One of his crewmen muttered.
But why? What the hell did she hope to accomplish?
Charles laughed behind him and he whipped around. One hand seized and clasped the man’s throat.
The lieutenant’s eyes widened just a fraction as he gripped Blac’s arm. His crooked grin wavered.
Fear flickered across lieutenant’s features. But it didn’t assuage Blac’s sudden need to thrash
someone. He tightened his hold for a mere second. “I’ve yet to give my word to you or the King on
anything thus far, Worthington, but I’ll give you my word on this.” He leaned closer. “By the year’s end, I
will have The Serpent back and I will personally hand you the girl.”
~*~
Stagnated air assaulted Charles as he climbed below decks into the darkness. Lieutenant Charles
Worthington ducked his head under the ship’s framework and moved further into the dank hull of the ship.
The brig at the rear of the hull was only a five-foot by four-foot cell but it would serve his purposes this
day.
Water dripped from the ceiling onto his waistcoat. He wiped it away, glad it hadn’t marred his
pristine white shirt. He avoided this part of the ship like the plague. It was too dirty, dank, and smelled of
unwashed bodies and disease.
A frown of distaste spread across his features. He would get done with this business as quickly as
he could. But he would enjoy every second. He smiled again. “Logan,” he said placing a single hand on
the iron bar and peering into the cell of the defeated man inside.
Charles almost clapped his hands in glee. But of course, he tapped down the ridiculous urge. Things
couldn’t have worked out any better for him — well unless of course both Logan and Angel had been
captured. At least he had Logan.
Logan appeared much older than Charles would’ve imagined. His black hair sported plenty of
white at the temples and streaked throughout his full beard. He sat on the floor, hanging his head between
his knees. Logan raised his head. There wasn’t a look of defeat in those stormy, blue eyes as Charles had
first imagined, but rather anger. Pure, unadulterated rage.
The pirate rose to his feet and Charles stepped back. Logan stood head and shoulders taller than he.
He was so broad of shoulder he almost filled the entire cell. Immense shoulders sloped to a massive
chest. Lines bracketed his mouth and fanned his eyes, and were the only signs of age on the man.
Charles lifted his chin. “So we finally meet at long last.” He smirked. “Can’t say as I’m really
honored though.”
“The English have no honor.” Even the timbre of his voice was colossal. Deeper than the average
man’s, it reverberated against the walls of the hull. A chill crept down Charles’s spine and he realized
now why this man’s career had been so successful. One look at this man and people surrendered.
Charles chuckled. “This, coming from a pirate?”
Logan moved with an easy grace despite his height. His moves were measured, concise. He gripped
the steel bars with both hands. “Honor among thieves. Even pirates can keep their word. It is the English
who mask their deceit behind polite fronts and stab you with trickery. I could’ve gone into politics and
done exactly the same things. But I prefer piracy; it’s more open. Honest. But I refuse to justify myself to
you.”
“Indeed.” Charles smiled and crossed his arms across his chest. “That’s why I prefer the way of the
soldier, I simply do as I’m told and leave the worrisome politics to others.”
“Do not delude yourself into believing you’re off the hook, Lieutenant. You may like to believe
you’re simply doing your job but you made the choice to become a pawn in a dangerous game. And
therefore, you have left yourself open to be used when and how they see fit. Forgive me, if I don’t find
that type of life appealing in the least. It’s the very reason I chose to leave that life behind, my friend. Any
mistakes I make now are mine and I have no one to answer to, save for the good man upstairs.”
Charles lifted a hand to his chin and pondered Logan’s words. “You are very articulate. I wouldn’t
have guessed that.”
“You’re assuming I’ve been a pirate all my life.”
Both of Charles’s brows lifted in surprise. “You’ve had a formal education?”
“I was known by a different name then. It is a name that will forever remain hidden, locked away in
some box till the day I die. Better men have tried to charm it out of me, tougher men have tried to beat it
out of me. Trust me, Lieutenant, when I say this... You will never know it.”
The pirate’s monster hand struck out and seized Charles by the collar pulling him forward. The
suddenness took him off guard and he gasped.
“Now you’re going to tell me why the King went against his word and broke our agreement.” Logan
whispered down at him, hauling him closer to the metal bars.
Charles slid the dagger under his sleeve down into his hand and raised it to just under the giants
chin. “You’ll release me, De’haviland, or you’ll find your blood spilled all over this deck.”
Charles made sure to prick the hair-roughened skin to get his point across. A drop of blood oozed
and trickled down the leathered neck. Seconds passed and silence descended.
The man released him with a shove. Charles stumbled. Regaining his balance, he kept out of the
man’s reach, dagger in hand. “You are either very brave or stupid, De’haviland. You’re certainly dancing
on either side of that line. We do things my way here and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Charles straightened his collar and re-tucked his shirt inside his pants with a wary eye on the
Logan. “Your daughter is very beautiful.”
Logan stiffened.
He must have hit a nerve. Excellent. He had the upper hand now. His surprise at the man’s size had
given him pause but he’d moved beyond that now.
“My daughter should be well away from here by now, on a ship.”
C
harles saw through the bluff for what it was. “Indeed, she is. That much I can tell you is true.”
Logan’s eyes appeared to study him and Charles laughed. “Curiosity killed the cat.”
The meaty hands tightened on the bars and the blue eyes grew so intense they would’ve burned a
hole through him. Charles smirked. “She is safe at the moment if that is what you’re hoping to hear.”
The visible relief was exactly what he’d been looking for. So the man loved his daughter. Too
much. And that was ultimately what would be his downfall. And of course, it would be Charles’s
enjoyment.
“She’s quite wayward, I take it. Headstrong, much like her father is, I suspect. Especially now, after
having met you for the first time. I see now the similarities between the two. Although, I will tell you this,
I had not known a daughter had been born of the union between you and the viscount’s wife until today.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly. “Do I know you?”
Charles chuckled and crossed the area with slow, measured steps. Those blue eyes followed him
step for step. “I do believe I just said we’ve met for the first time.”
“And I didn’t catch your name?”
Charles’s grin smoothed into a full smile as he paused to face the man. “Call me Charles, or
Lieutenant. I will answer to either.”
A sinister hardness appeared in the pirate’s eyes. “No last name? Or too afraid to tell me.”
Charles laughed enjoying himself. “Ahhh, all will be revealed in due time, mon bon pirate ami.”
“Nous ne sommes pas d'ami.”
“No, we are not friends.” So, the pirate was as well educated as he’d thought. Charles crossed his
arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “All good things come to those who wait, mon ami.”
Charles pushed off the wall and headed toward the hatch. He turned back. “Although, I will tell you
this, De’haviland. Your daughter is a wanted woman now. She took up arms against the King and has
stolen an English vessel.”
“What vessel?”
Charles grinned. “Why, the Serpent if you must know. Poor Blac has made a vow to me this day. He
will get his ship back and bring the girl back to me himself. I am looking forward to seeing how this plays
out, and your delightful daughter provided me with the perfect form of torture. I plan to keep you around
long enough to watch your own daughter hang.”
The animal-like roar followed Charles out of the hull and echoed through the cove.
Four
Two years later
1691
The Serpent’s Lady.
The two-masted Brigantine floated in the harbor as gentle swells of water lapped at her bow. Her
tall, dual masts rose into the dimming light of the sunset like slender-fingered bones, rising out of the clear
water.
Blac stepped away from the dock rail and breathed in the salt air. An entire year since he’d last
seen the beauty of both the ship and the girl.
Several times, he’d come close to capturing Angel, but again and again, she had escaped, sailing
away with a wave and kiss blown across the wind. He could still feel the sting of it as if she’d slapped
his face. Her taunts inspired his rage and passion. He’d never been more determined to have something.
And soon, he would.
His eyes traced every sleek line of the boat. The vessel’s figurehead, once a serpent, had now been
carved into a bare-breasted woman with billowing hair. Her body was wrapped in the coils of a sea
serpent. The woman very much resembled Angel, and he wondered who had carved it. A sudden need to
throttle the man overcame him and he gritted his teeth. Had she removed her clothes to pose for such a
thing?
He clasped and unclasped his fists.
Two men roamed the main deck, coiling ropes and securing rigging. A third man dangled from the
fore topmast yardarm as he secured the sails.
Four new bronzed cannons had been added to the main deck and a new heavily carved banister had
been added to the quarterdeck. The changes improved the Brigantine’s appearance. Though Blac hated to
admit it, she appeared well taken care of and clean.
He’d missed her. And her captain. He couldn’t wait to run his hands over her rails again, but he
would stay far away from her mistress.
The Hell's Angel, as Angel was now known, had become quite a name in the Caribbean. She
attacked every English vessel she crossed and every privateer flying under the English flag. He imagined
Angel was searching for her father still. Her fearsome reputation grew with every passing day. The
English captains had become afraid to set sail in the Caribbean for fear of running into her.
Blac wasn’t sure where the lieutenant had taken Logan, but, the lieutenant had kept his word. He
would not hang Logan until Blac managed to capture Angel. But Worthington was becoming impatient.
The question was why did the lieutenant want the pirate’s daughter? Why hold off the pirate’s trial and
hanging when that’s who he was after in the first place? Unless, he didn’t plan on going through with the
trial.
Suspicion kept Blac from overanalyzing the lieutenant’s motives – at least for now. His first goal
had always been to get Angel to her grandfather’s care as he’d promised Logan before his arrest.
Blood pulsed through his veins and he released his grip on the rail. Soon, my angel, I will have you
under my hands.
Blac was uncertain whether he meant the ship or the woman.
Two hours later, Blac followed four dark figures down the boardwalk toward the U-shaped city.
Over the years, Port Royal had made a name for itself as the wickedest city in the New World.
Lights flickered across the waters as the port awoke, ready to sink into its nightly ritual of debauchery.
Despite the fact that the city had been claimed an area of anti-piracy the year Logan was captured, it still
held its aura of decadence along the wharves.
Blac strode down the boardwalk, headed for the town’s tip. Fishermen hawked their wares, and a
drunken seaman bumped into his shoulder, before collapsing to the ground. Blac chuckled and helped the
man to his feet once more, keeping an eye on the gathered group across the wharves.
More than a hundred ships were docked in the harbor. Their tips stretched into the sky above, and
the hulls bobbed across the ocean’s surface, like dancers in the night.
The constant lapping of waves against the boardwalk and the whine of the wind were broken by the
sounds of crashing bottles and drunken laughter. Damp moisture made the fabric of his shirt stick to his
back, and sweat beaded across his brow from the humidity.
Blac blended in to the crowd of seamen, passing by the crates and barrels being loaded and
unloaded. He stopped beneath the balcony of the hastily built brothel, next to a two-storied red brick
structure. The sign read simply: The Cat and The Fiddle, established 1675. Two scantily-clad prostitutes
giggled and shouted out lewd invitations to the men below.
Blac shoved his wide-brimmed hat lower over his features and followed the foursome down High
Street. Dusk disappeared and the black cloak of sin settled over the town. Several of the locals closed up
shop and headed for home. Blac tipped his hat at the lady and gentlemen exiting Simon Benning’s pewter
shop and crossed the street.
The four heavily a
rmed men joined up with a shorter, dark-cloaked figure and headed down an
alley headed toward Queen Street. They disappeared through a heavy, oak-arched doorway.
Blac entered The Black Dog, a rundown hovel. The group sat at the rear of the building. He took a
seat on the bench and table in the opposite corner, ducking his head to hide his features. The low murmur
of voices droned on and for several hours; the five companions continued to drink.
A buxom blonde ambled up to his table and perched one hip on its edge. “Anything else I can get
ye’ handsome?”
Blac shook his head and leaned forward to see around her. “Not tonight, Jezel.”
The bright red lips pursed to make a moue beneath the penciled in mole in the right corner of her
mouth. “Zhat ‘es too bad, mon ami, I’d hoped you would come to see me. I have missed you zees last
months.”
Blac reached up a hand to her knee and squeezed. “And I you, but I’ve work to do.”
“Perhaps I can be of help?”
Blac glanced up to her. “Perhaps you can.” He dropped his hand and crossed his arms across the
tabletop. “Do you see those five sailors in the corner?”
“Of course,” she said with wicked grin. “’Ze young one is right handsome and has been eyeing me
all evening.”
“Good.” Blac ordered another glass of rum. “Get his attention and find out what they’re up to.”
She nodded and moved to stand. His hand shot out and seized her leg again. “And Jezel...” She
raised a single blonde brow. “You will be rewarded.”
A slow smile spread across her features. “I’ve got plenty of gold, mon ami. Unless it’s you in my
bed this eve, don’t even bother.”
She walked away with a swing in her hips and, had the object of his current fascination not been
more than five feet away from him, he may have been more than interested. As it were, Jezel held no
appeal to him. Not after the way his blood had been set afire by one rebellious female pirate.
The tavern had long since cleared. Blac held back as the last occupant exited the building. He
slipped from the shadows and stole into the alley beside the establishment until he reached the rear door.
He knocked three times and seconds later, the door opened an inch.
Jezel’s voice came to him through the partial opening. “I ‘ave news. They plan to kidnap the
