The Pirate and the Puritan

by Howe, Cheryl

  She suspected he’d revealed more of himself than he wanted. If she could force him to face his feelings, then maybe she could understand her own where he was concerned. “I know what it’s like to be abandoned.”

  “Help me with this.” He opened a wooden case. Shapes of the various instruments scattered on the table lay molded in red velvet. “Do you think me a monster? I wouldn’t blame you for it if you did.”

  She matched the tools with their corresponding places in the case. “For being a pirate or a womanizer?” His entrance into her life made her unsure of everything she had believed to be true. At the moment, she couldn’t muster the appropriate indignation for either offense.

  He grinned, and she thought he might kiss her, but out of gratitude rather than passion. He glanced away without touching her. When he spoke, she realized he was giving her a much greater prize than a kiss. He honored her with a small glimpse into his heart. “I’m not the one my father betrayed. My mother suffered far more. She was merely a servant to him, but she thought he loved her. She never gave up hope that he’d somehow do the right thing by her and me. She died of a broken heart as much as the lung ailment that killed her.”

  “So that’s why you have so many different women? You don’t believe in love?” She wondered how much he would let her see of his secret self and intended to push as far as he’d let her.

  “No.” He answered the question succinctly and punctuated it by abruptly slamming the case closed. “I don’t promise things I’m incapable of. The women I become involved with know that.”

  She searched his hooded eyes. She had pushed him too far, but it wasn’t in her nature to stop at the first signs of resistance. “What about Laura? You must have cared for her to mention her to Hugh.”

  He searched the ceiling with his gaze. When he glanced back at her, it looked as if he wasn’t going to answer. “Yes. I loved her. Too much, I guess.”

  “Oh.” Her habit of probing in murky waters often got her into trouble, but she remembered too late to save her bruised feelings. He might want to avoid engaging his heart, but he wasn’t invincible. Instead of being comforted by the fact he wasn’t a complete cad, the tightness in her chest at hearing Drew’s confession of love for another woman told her how lost she was.

  After an agonizing moment, he came up behind her, encircling her with both arms. He pulled her against him and brushed her hair aside with his free hand. “All promises have been officially withdrawn, Miss Kendall,” he whispered. Then he lightly kissed the back of her neck.

  She melted against him. His disguises, though vastly different from her own, had been created to hide a broken heart. They both deserved to be healed, even if the effect would be fleeting. He might not care for her with the intensity he had for Laura, but for the moment she succeeded in capturing his full attention.

  The beat of a metal object against the side of the ship made her jump. She tried to pull away from Drew’s embrace, but he held her to him. He urged her closer with gentle yet demanding pressure until her backside fit into the groove of his hips.

  A disjointed voice boomed near the window. “Ship on our starboard. She’s following our course.”

  Seemingly lost in the act of smelling her hair, Drew ignored the voice. He cupped one of her breasts, weighing and massaging its heaviness in his palm. Felicity leaned into him lest she slide to the floor. Her vision from the bath returned to her with knee-weakening force. She reached her arm behind her to cling to his neck. His touch burned through cloth. Slick heat pulsed her sex and coiled in her belly.

  When he abruptly stopped and set her away from him with a curse, she would have stumbled if he did not firmly grip her arms.

  He turned her to face him. “I have to go. We’re being pursued.” He brushed his lips against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her. “You distract me beyond endurance, sweeting, but I promise, we will finish this later.”

  He returned to the window. “What flag are they flying?”

  “British,” answered Solomon without the amplification of the speaking-cone.

  Drew shook his head. “Solomon’s probably leaning over the side of the ship, maybe even trying to look in the porthole. He doesn’t trust me with you any more than I trust myself.”

  He turned back to the window. “Battle stations. I’ll be right there.” The boom of his voice warned Felicity that whatever frivolous roles he’d played in the past, he found this current game deadly serious. He strode to a trunk and flipped open the lid.

  “Surely you don’t mean to fight a British ship.” She clasped her arms to keep the fear creeping up her spine at bay.

  Beside the trunk, he stacked what looked to be flags folded into tight triangles. “Here we go. British.” He held up the flag, though all she could glimpse of it was a fat red stripe. “We’ll fly the other ship’s colors and see if she leaves us alone.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “That could be a problem.” He gathered the rest of the flags in his arms and dumped them in the trunk, then paused to grab a second flag to accompany the British one.

  “Do you have a flag for every country?”

  Colors clutched to his side, he strode to the desk and yanked open the top drawer. “And then some. A pirate always has to be prepared.”

  From the drawer he pulled a brass-butted flintlock pistol.

  She backed toward the far corner of the cabin. “You really are a pirate.”

  He closed the distance between them. “I think that’s obvious. Felicity Kendall, I’d never expect you to cower in the face of a little adversity.”

  At his taunt, she managed to square her shoulders. “I never claimed to be courageous. Any intelligent woman would back away when confronted by an armed pirate.” After flipping the weapon around so he held the muzzle, he offered it to her. “Have I acted like that much of a bastard? For your protection, my lady. Do you know how to shoot?”

  She eyed the pistol but refused to take it from him. “No ”

  He grabbed her wrist and wrapped her fingers around the cool brass. “Cock it, then squeeze the trigger. It’s too difficult to reload, so make your shot count. Or you can club someone over the head with it. Just do your best. You always do.”

  She tried to quell her panic. The idea of physical violence against herself or anyone else made her queasy. “You don’t expect me to fight? For all I know, that ship was sent for me by my father. He’s probably worried beyond reason.”

  Drew sprinted toward the door, grabbing the flags from the desk on his way. “Odds are they’re here for me. Now stay in the cabin and be a good girl. Shoot anyone who bursts through that door who isn’t Solomon, Hugh or me. Understand?”

  “Don’t go.” She followed him to the door. Though she’d always prided herself on being a strong woman, she’d discovered her limit. Being left alone in the midst of a battle terrified her.

  He put his hands on each of her arms and leaned down to kiss the top of her forehead. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

  To her utter surprise, her eyes shimmered with moisture. “What about you?”

  “What? Be hurt and miss your probing questions regarding my past? Never.”

  “Please be careful, Drew,” she whispered.

  He stared at her mouth, but dropped his hands from her arms and turned away.

  She stopped him with a tug at his elbow. “Send Hugh down. I’ll look after him.”

  He hesitated. She sensed his struggle. It was the same one she’d been battling since he’d shown her his other side. At first she thought their mutual attraction mere lust. Now she understood it to be something infinitely more dangerous. The idea of losing him before she figured out who he really was, or who she might be with him, sealed her fate. If he could trust her, she could trust him.

  She blinked back the rush of emotion making her eyes tear. “Do you think I would do anything to harm Hugh?”

  “No,” he said without pause. “I know you wouldn’t d
o anything to purposely hurt Hugh, but your good intentions can be dangerous. Look at the disaster that landed you here in the first place.”

  “I’ve made mistakes in the past. Many mistakes, but can’t you see how you’ve affected me? You’ve changed me in ways I’ve yet to understand. I swear I won’t do anything to hurt Hugh or Solomon…or you.” She hadn’t known she had felt this way until the words left her lips. But there they were, and their plain truth wouldn’t allow them to be called back.

  The fierce angle of his jaw appeared unmoved by her pledge, but she swore she saw a softening in his eyes. “I believe you told me in no uncertain terms you were out to harm me.”

  “Things have changed.” She glided her fingertips over his tight jaw and shivered with the pleasure of such a slight intimacy. “How can you blame me for not trusting you at first? You wear so many different masks, sometimes I don’t know who I’m speaking with from one moment to the next. If you wish for me to trust you, you must trust me in this.”

  He stared at her without blinking. “Don’t trust me, Felicity. I don’t want it.” He gripped her wrist and removed her hand. “But, I’ll send Hugh down. Promise me you won’t do anything else to help.”

  She nodded in agreement. Despite his denial, she knew he wanted her to see him for who he really was. He wasn’t a monster. Just a man, with hurt and need and loneliness. She had to ball her hand to keep from touching him again.

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m crazy,” he mumbled to himself before heading to the door. He halted, turning to face her. “Felicity, Laura was my mother. Hugh nags to hear stories about mothers. I guess he’s a little confused about women.” His crooked smile made even his uncharacteristic confession disarming. “But so am I.”

  Without waiting for her response, he shut the door behind him and locked it. She had no idea when he’d taken one of the keys. In fact, she was barely conscious of her held breath. The cold ache she’d lived with for far too long thawed in a rush of warmth. She gave up her struggle and let her head follow the path her heart intended to travel.

  Chapter Nine

  Avery Sneed dropped the last few feet from his perch high in the mainmast. “They don’t know what the bloody hell they’re doing,” he said, and handed Drew the vellum telescope. “If they continue on their current course, they’ll ram into our side. I say we take down their mainmast.”

  The telescope confirmed Avery’s assumption about the merchant ship’s crew. The Union Jack billowed proudly in the wind, while below men scrambled in panic. He couldn’t read the name of the ship, but it looked naggingly familiar. He swung the scope in the direction of their standard.

  Bloody hell! It was a Barbadian ship. As a rule, he avoided clashes with any vessels flying British colors and purposely veered from those also carrying the smaller Barbadian flag. Loyalty didn’t account for his actions; meeting someone he knew and risking exposure did. If the other ship provoked an incident, Drew would be forced to fight, regardless of his preference. With Felicity on board, he wanted to avoid that possibility at all costs.

  “Come about again. We’ll try to lose them,” he ordered, without taking his gaze from the other ship.

  Avery repeated Drew’s command. Throughout the ship, the crew echoed the orders in deep booming voices.

  When Avery left to carry out his duties, Solomon took his place. “The men are restless. They’ve taken no booty since Marley’s death and are eager for a fight.”

  “Are you questioning my command?” Drew lowered the telescope and gave Solomon a warning stare. His tone invited only one answer. His impatience to return to Felicity made him irritable.

  Solomon clasped his hands behind his back, his expression placid. “I question your motives. I wonder how much Miss Kendall has swayed your judgment.”

  Drew tapped the telescope against the side of his leg. The scowl he directed at Solomon did nothing to dispel his friend’s patient and unwavering gaze. The man was a muscle bound conscience who refused to be ignored.

  Of course Felicity’s presence on the ship swayed his judgment. He didn’t want to risk a battle with her aboard, and it wasn’t just because the slaying of British citizens would horrify her. He worried for her safety. At the moment, he couldn’t afford to contemplate the other emotions attached to those concerns.

  He avoided Solomon’s question, choosing an argument he would find reasonable. “Since when are you bent on blood? Look at the way they sail. This wouldn’t be a fight. It would be a slaughter.”

  Solomon shrugged. “Perhaps, but to run isn’t our way. Running makes you a target. Have you forgotten the lesson I was taught on the subject?”

  Drew contemplated the expanse of choppy sea separating their ship from the other vessel. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t forget Solomon’s brush with slave-hunters years after his escape from slavery. Solomon’s emotional scars remained too close to the surface. Escaping with Hugh had been the only thing keeping him alive after the loss of his beloved wife Marguerite at the hands of the slavers. Not a day went by that Solomon didn’t mourn her loss.

  Drew’s reluctance to attack a pursuing ship went against everything they both had done to survive. Conquer or be conquered. The motto took on more consequence when one had something to look forward to, and for the first time, Drew did. She awaited him in his cabin.

  Solomon continued without waiting for Drew’s answer. “Do I have to remind you what we are?” He lost his pretense of patience, balling his hands into fists. “We are pirates. We survive by being ruthless. If you show weakness we’ll eventually be crushed. These seas are no place for the weak.”

  The Rapture’s change in direction thrust them forward. The tack did the same for the merchant ship following them.

  “Raise our standard and let’s see what that accomplishes,” Drew said.

  Solomon lifted his brows. “Does this mean you’re ready to do battle? Once you reveal your hand, you must play it out.”

  Drew refused to think that for ahead. Once the other ship knew whom it was dealing with, perhaps it would turn tail and run. He would let it. “I’ll do what I must.”

  After Solomon shouted the command to change the flags, he turned to Drew. “I’m relieved you’ve come to your senses. Your recent fame should ensure an uneventful surrender.”

  Drew sighed. “Since the bloody reputation was thrust upon me, I might as well use it to our advantage.”

  He swung his gaze from the other ship to the flag he’d designed unfurling in the wind. A white, devil-like skeleton complete with pointed ears and forked tail danced against a black background. In its right hand it held a sword with which it skewered a red, bleeding heart.

  His personal standard had been a tribute to his escape from a Spanish prison off the coast of Hispaniola. Stealing the heart of a senorita with keys to the prison won him the nickname. Her father had claimed only El Diablo himself could seduce his daughter and flee his hell. Through the years, the name had stuck.

  The sound of a cannon, followed by a spray of water as the ball missed her target, was the other ship’s answer to the raising of his standard. A second shot immediately followed, skidding off their bow and splintering wood in the process.

  “What the bloody hell?” Drew blinked to clear the fury from his vision, then readjusted the telescope to survey the opposing crew. Merchant ships never fired on the better-manned and better-armed pirate vessels. Either he was being pursued by pirates using the British flag as subterfuge, or the captain of this particular vessel was a total incompetent. The rapid approach of the other ship, combined with the aid of the telescope, soon gave Drew his answer. The corpulent captain standing on the other deck came close enough to reach out and throttle. Captain McCulla.

  “Captain!” Solomon’s deep voice sliced through Drew’s thoughts. He dropped the telescope but prevented the vellum tube from hitting the deck by catching it with his other hand. After his recovery, he glared at Solomon.

  The man shrugged. “I woul
dn’t have shouted, but you didn’t hear me the first time. I’m going below to check on the damage done by the shot.”

  Drew suspected Solomon meant to check on Hugh. He needn’t bother; the shot had landed on the opposite end of the ship from where the boy hid. Felicity and Hugh were safe, but revealing they were together in his cabin had to be delayed. Drew couldn’t afford another opponent just now.

  “Don’t bother. Hugh’s safe. We’ve got more immediate problems. That’s a New England Trading Company ship.”

  “Are you sure?” Solomon grabbed for the spyglass.

  “I recognize the captain.”

  “Do you think Ben sent them after his daughter?” asked Solomon.

  Drew hated the idea of Ben turning against him. Ben might not even realize he had Felicity, but if he did, his blind spot where his daughter was concerned might provoke him into doing something rash. Drew’s own experience showed him how easy it was to overlook the unpredictable shrew behind those liquid brown eyes, especially if she was on your side. Yet if Drew could believe he had gained Felicity’s loyalty, he had to trust her father. Ben had proved deserving of the gift over the years.

  “No,” he finally said. “Ben wouldn’t send McCulla. Something’s wrong. Let’s come around beside her and see what Captain McCulla has to say for himself.”

  Solomon pointed to the swiftly approaching ship. “We’re already too close. Their next shot will do irreparable damage.”

  “We’ll tack around and approach on her leeward side. She’s heeling enough to send her cannons underwater. McCulla probably won’t think of that.”

  “I’ll give Avery the orders. I need to go below.” Solomon turned without waiting for Drew’s reply.

  Drew grabbed Solomon’s arm. “He won’t be there. He’s in my cabin.”

  “With Felicity?” Solomon swung around.

  “And a good thing I sent him there. That shot might have ripped right through the galley.” Drew ignored his friend’s scowl. “You can thank me later. Right now I believe you have orders to carry out.”