The Blood Reaver (Pirates of Britannia Book 6)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Aye, me beauty, else you may hang me for a lewd cur.” In the face of such arresting confusion, he yielded to a full-blown belly laugh. “Indeed, I would not have you separated from me any longer than necessary.”

  “All right.” She took a single step and paused. “You will be careful.”

  “If only to claim another kiss.” Amid the pursuit of booty, all he could think about was just how far her blush extended. “Now, off with you.”

  With his woman safely tucked away, he gave his attention to the wreck and the coast. After checking his pistol, he flagged Tolly. “We need three landing parties. One to search the other ship. A second to explore the island for fresh water and possible survivors. And a third to investigate the sunken long boats on the larboard side.”

  “Sunken long boats?” Tolly wrinkled his nose. “Did the lady spy those, too?”

  “Why do you ask?” News traveled fast aboard a ship filled with superstitious men, and none were more irrational than pirates, with too much idle time on their hands. “And who told you?”

  “Allen says the Armistead wench may be a Fortuna.” Tolly cast a lopsided grin. “Is it true, Cap’n?”

  “She has good eyes, Tolly.” Turner walked to the mainsail hull, where the men climbed down the Jacob’s ladder. As he gripped the rope, he reflected on the situation. “It was a coincidence, nothing more, and I will not have you spreading false rumors and exciting the crew. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Despite his affirmative, Tolly did not appear convinced.

  “You have control of the ship, until I return.” With that, Turner leaped the rest of the way into the jolly boat. “Head for that sand bar.”

  “Aye, sir.” The oarsman heaved forward.

  The closer they got to the sunken crafts, the shallower the water became, until they bottomed their boat, and he jumped over the side and waded to his prize. Broken pieces of wood floated with the current, but bags of gold doubloons anchored the larger remnants.

  “What fool was broke adrift here? Now this is what I call treasure, lads.” He bent, scooped up a pile of coins, and threw them at his swabs, and they cheered. “Burney, Riggs, there is more fire in a small, dead fish than in all your slow bodies. What are you waiting for? Get your mangy arses out here, and help me collect our due.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” the two young sailors replied, in unison.

  “The tide must have pushed the wreckage here, because the shallows are easily navigable by foot. As Turned tried to heft a bag, the sack fell apart, and he resorted to piling the booty with his bare hands.

  Motivated, his men worked quickly to retrieve every scrap of gold, and he worried that their jolly boat might collapse beneath the added weight. When they came alongside the Malevolent, they met Allen.

  “Madre de Dios.” Allen licked his lips. “The lady found a fortune.”

  “It was luck, Allen.” Turner huffed in frustration, as he could not afford to have his crew form an unnatural penchant for Rose, because he doubted even he could save her. “She just happened to spot it, first.”

  “The ship and the gold?” The quartermaster snickered. “She is our Lady of Fortune, only you do not want to admit it, because you have other priorities.”

  “Not by no manner o’ means, and I will hear no more talk of it.” To Tolly, Turner asked, “Any sign of the other party?”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” The first mate folded his arms. “Two men came back to retrieve three hogsheads, because they located a freshwater source but no survivors, although they found some remains.”

  “All right. Let me know when they return, and then resume our original course.” As the crew piled doubloons on deck, the tars grew restless and gathered near. “Have the gold counted and recounted, as every man gets a share.”

  “What of Miss Armistead?” Eastman chewed on a cheroot, as he inclined his head. “She found the booty, and by the code she earned a portion.”

  “But she is not a member of this crew.” Allen knelt and ran his fingers through the coins. “So the code does not apply.”

  “Tolly, see to it a fair amount is set aside for Miss Armistead.” A wave of discontent marked almost half of the swabs, while others nodded in agreement, thus Turner gripped the butt of his flintlock pistol. “If anyone disagrees, he is free to stay here, and that is the last I will hear of it.”

  “Cap’n, the final party is just arrived on the beach.” Tolly shifted his weight.

  “Good.” Turner raked his hands through his hair. “Get them aboard, get everything stowed, and get us out of here.”

  Riding a crest of ire, he made quick work of the companion ladder and strode down the passage that led to Rose’s cabin. At the oak panel, he knocked.

  “Who is there?” she inquired.

  “Captain Reyson.” When the latch creaked, he pushed open the door and halted, when Rose pressed a finger to her lips, to quiet him. In a low voice, he said, “I wanted you to know that we had no trouble, and you are free to move about the ship.” He considered withholding information in regard to the treasure, but he realized he could not lie to her. “And you spotted a veritable fortune in gold doubloons, which has been divided, and we included you in the shares.”

  “Why?” Her response, uttered with nary a hint of emotion, struck Turner as a punch between the eyes. “I have no need of it, as my family is better off than most.”

  “You mean you do not want the gold, because it is a decent sum?” His ears rang, at the prospect. “You cannot use it?”

  “I wager you and your men have a greater need.” She peered over her shoulder, stepped into the corridor, and pulled the door shut. “Mama sleeps, and I would not disturb her, but I am anxious to know of the find. It pleased you?”

  “Very much.” She spotted an ample fortune and wanted no part of it. Her only concern was that she pleased him. Had he thought he wanted her? He could have hauled her into his quarters, ripped her garb from her shapely body, and plundered the treasure between her thighs, for a fortnight, and still it would not have been enough for him. With the backs of his knuckles, he trailed the curve of her delicate jaw. “Join me on deck, this evening. We can watch the sunset, together.”

  “I would love that, but I am not sure my mother would approve.” Closing her eyes, she leaned into his palm, and he could not stop himself from kissing her.

  It was not the first time Turner stole a boon from a woman, but it was the most powerful, and he could not even begin to fathom why he enjoyed the moment, until Rose sighed, caressed his cheek, and leaned into him. With tantalizing flicks of his tongue, he beckoned, and she opened to him.

  Walking his fingers along her hips, he cupped her bottom and savored her sultry moan, as he intensified their exchange. When the long cannon in his breeches prepared to fire, he set her apart from him and backed to the wall.

  “Would your mother approve of that?” He chuckled, to dispel the tension in his loins. “Blast my deadlights, but you are a prime piece.”

  “A prime piece?” Rose tugged on his sleeve, and he admired her kiss-swollen lips. What he would give to have her mouth wrapped about his whore’s pipe. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I cannot resist you, sweet lady.” He caught her hand in his and licked the flesh between her thumb and her finger. “Meet me on deck. Promise you will come to me. The devil take your mother.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Her eyes widened, as her brows furrowed. “That is not a nice thing to say about my mother, when she has done naught to you.”

  “It is just a manner of speech.” Telltale warmth flooded his chest and spread to his limbs, and he ached to hold her. No matter the price, he vowed, then and there, to claim her most intimate prize, before the voyage ended. “But you will not disappoint me, will you?”

  Hugging herself, she shook her head. “No.”

  Ah, victory had never been so satisfying.

  “Until later, lady mine.” Bowing, he caught her hand in his and kissed her knuckles
. “I look forward to our rendezvous.”

  To his surprise, she said nothing, just curtseyed and fled to her cabin. Turner clucked his tongue and rotated on a heel—and stopped. In the passage, young Clinton loomed, with arms folded and a potent scowl.

  “Stay away from my sister, Captain Reyson.” The scamp’s nostrils flared, as he lifted his chin and bared his teeth. “I do not know what you are about, but I know you are up to no good.”

  “You know nothing, little codfish. And have care how you speak to me, as I do not take kindly to insults.” Turner grabbed the scamp by the back of his collar, opened the door to Clinton’s chamber, and thrust him inside the room. “Get in your hammock, before you faint, because you are as white as a sheet.”

  “Unhand me, sir.” Clinton jerked free and fell to the floor. “If my father were here—”

  “But he is not, so you will do as I command, while you are aboard my ship.” In one fell swoop, he scooped up the lad and flung him, none too gently, into the hammock. “Next time you slight me, I will throw you overboard, and you may swim to Charles Town.”

  That ought to put the younger Armistead in his place.

  Turner stormed from the cabin, slamming shut the door in his wake. Then he smiled. He had an important appointment to keep, and nothing and no one would deter him from his goal. He would be patient. He would entice. He would lure the irresistible Rose, and when he had her under his influence, he would devour her.

  In the fortnight since departing Port Royal, Mama and Clinton spent much of the journey in their cabins, as they were too weak from the sickness, to venture on deck. Once Clinton recovered his strength, nothing could keep him from exploring every aspect of sea life. What troubled Rose was her brother’s open disdain for Turner.

  For some reason she could not discern, Clinton treated the captain with contempt, in full view of the crew, and she knew not how to resolve the situation. To act as peacemaker, she spent much of her days distracting the captain, which distracted her.

  “Mama, if you are comfortable, and you need nothing, I will join Clinton at the stern.” At the washstand, she tucked a curl behind her ear and smoothed a few stray strands of hair. “I shall return for the noon meal.”

  “Rose, I do not want you to go up there.” Mama sat at the small table, where they dined, and sipped a cup of tea. “You are spending too much time in the sun, and you are ruining your complexion. And those men, excepting Captain Reyson, are not good company. I wager they are not out in society.”

  “But I thought you liked the captain.” Rose recalled numerous tedious discussions of marriage and wealthy husbands. “And you did say he would make an excellent beau.”

  “Has he made you an offer?” Before Rose could answer, Mama clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, just think of it. We could hold an autumn wedding, and you would be the wife of a sea captain. If only your father were here.”

  “Mama, I am sorry to disappoint you, but Captain Reyson has expressed no such interest.” Much to Rose’s dismay, given she spent every evening with Turner, watching the sunset on the horizon. And then there were his kisses, often bestowed in the shadows of a narrow passage, which always left her wanting more, only she did not know what ‘more’ meant. “And I am not certain this is an opportune moment to wed, given we should observe a period of mourning for Papa and for Ephraim, as I would honor them, once we dock in Charles Town.”

  “Of course, we will mourn them.” Mama sniffed and fumbled for her handkerchief. “But you must think of your future, unless you plan to marry Harold Mortimer. You father opened negotiations for your union, prior to our departure for Spain.”

  “Mama, I am sorry if you think me disobedient, and I am not trying to be willful, but I have intention of wedding Harold Mortimer. He prefers lace at his cuffs, and he is far too preoccupied with my fashions for my comfort. Indeed, he is not for me.” Rose all but stomped to the door. With the oak panel ajar, she half-stepped into the corridor. “Worry not, as I will find my own way, once we are home.”

  In a fit of high dudgeon, she ran across the lower deck and scrambled up the companion ladder. At the rail, Clinton held up some strange contraption, as he talked with Tolly. She should have inquired after his health, even though he appeared in fine fettle. In truth, she did not seek her brother. The man who snared her attention stood with the helmsman, and she smiled when Turner waved.

  Fighting the urge to dash to his side, she strolled, nodding greetings to various sailors.

  “Are you feeling lucky today, Miss Armistead?” The somewhat coarse quartermaster shifted from foot to foot.

  “Well, I do not know, Mr. Allen.” The nearby crewmen leaned in her direction, as if they hung on her words. “But I was just going to station myself with Captain Reyson, in hopes of spotting some sort of find.”

  “May I help you up the companion ladder, Miss Armistead?” Eastman doffed his hat. One of the older salts, he always treated her with kindness, and she liked him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Eastman.” She accepted his escort, and he held her by the elbow, as she ascended the first few rungs.

  “Good morning, Miss Armistead.” As usual, when she approached, Turner bent and lifted her the rest of the way, and he addressed her formally in the presence of his men. It was only in private that he used her given name. “I trust you slept well?”

  “I did, Captain.” Of course, she lied, because the memory of his kisses kept her awake most of the night. What bothered her was his underlying temperament. While their exchanges inspired so many sensations, and she could not contain her excitement, he seemed altogether unmoved, which she found insulting. Was she nothing to him? “And you?”

  “Never better.” With his hair pulled back, and wearing a velvet coat, he could pass for a respectable gentleman of means, in Charles Town. With his arm at her waist, he ushered her to the stern rail. “So, who is Harold Mortimer?”

  “I beg your pardon?” A nagging heaviness settled in the pit of her belly. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Mama?”

  “I might have been passing by your cabin and overhead something.” When he assumed a rigid posture, she narrowed her stare. “It is late, and I wondered why you had not shown a leg, when you share the sunrise with me at every dawn.”

  “Were you worried about me?” Anger turned to exhilaration, and she bounced on her toes. “Did you think me ill?”

  “Well, your family was sick.” He exhaled and scowled. “The conclusion is not unreasonable, and it gave me cause for concern.”

  “Because you care about my wellbeing.” It was a statement, not a question, and she dared him to deny her assertion. “Do you not, my Captain?”

  “Your captain?” He snorted. “I am my own man.”

  “That is not an answer, sir.”

  “It is the only one you are getting.”

  “Why?” She reached for his hand and twined her fingers in his. “Of what are you afraid?”

  “Nothing.” He jerked loose. “And certainly not some pampered princess from Charles Town.” Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on the rail. “I never should have brought you aboard my ship.”

  “Is that how you really feel?” Confused and more than a little hurt by his outburst, she retreated a step. “Because I can return to my quarters, if my presence offends you.”

  “No.” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Stay.” He pulled her close, positioning her between him and the rail, and moved to stand behind her. With his tongue, he teased the crest of her ear, and she shivered. “Please, Rose. Come to me, in my cabin, tonight.”

  “What for?” She closed her eyes and dropped back her head, as he nuzzled her neck.

  “You know what for.” As he hugged her, he grazed her breasts, which she suspected was no accident. “And do not try to tell me you do not desire me, as I desire you.”

  “I am sorry, Captain, but I cannot do that.” She yelped, when he rotated her to face him. “I have already stretched the limits of polite decorum, and w
e are not married. I have no assurances that you would guard my virtue, if I agreed to a private meeting in your cabin, and nothing good could come of such an appointment, as we have no understanding.”

  “Oh, I disagree.” His smile, pure wolf, inspired a host of images she could not contain, and she wondered just how far his sun-kissed flesh extended. “Do you recall what you told me, last night, as we admired the moonlight dancing on the waves? You claim to covet a free and easy life, yet when I offer you a taste, you decline.”

  “It is not that I decline, Captain.” His arched brow declared his displeasure, and she leaned against the rail. “Turner, I cannot pretend that your invitation does not tempt me, because it does. And I did not lie, when I said I want to live as I see fit, but I would not have you ruin me, and it is not because I have a beau waiting at home. It is because I would come to my future husband, whomever that might be, as an honest and pure wife. I love the sea, and I favor your world, but I want a family, too. I suppose the question I must pose is whether or not that appeals to you and what you are willing to accept.”

  “Once again, you open negotiations, Miss Armistead.” In a single stride, he closed the distance between them, shielding her from prying eyes, and stared down his nose at her. It was an attempt at intimidation, and it worked, because she could not resist him, when his sandalwood scent tickled her nose. “What do you want?”

  “What do you extend?”

  “My long cannon, which is primed, even now.” To emphasize his point, he thrust his hips to hers, and it was then she discovered his meaning. While she was not experienced in the ways of physical attraction, she knew the anatomy, and she almost swooned, but he held her upright. “Easy, Rose. I will not take you here.” He chuckled. “But now that we understand each other, I promise this. I will show you pleasure such as you have never known, and will carry our secret to my grave. How can you be compromised, when no one knows you did the deed?”