by Lia Davis
He grabbed the astonished man by the neck and dragged him under the dock.
“Please don’t kill me,” the man pleaded. “Did Captain Hopper send you? I promise I’ll finish mending the sail. Please don’t sell me. I’m too old for hard labor.”
Phearson’s brain was sluggish, but he was sharp enough to realize this man might have something to do with the Pirate’s House Inn and decided to play along to see if he could get information.
“Captain says you’ve been too lazy.”
“No, no. I spoke with Esmond Doyle. We plan to get him some fresh young bucks. Please, I swear that canvas will be mended good as new.”
Phearson thought Hopper was as probably as mean and nasty as Palmer. His crew would be ripe for a mutiny.
Weariness gripped Phearson. He unleashed his fangs and sank them into the man’s neck. The man pushed on Phearson’s chest, but soon grew weak. Normally, he’d drain him dry to please his captain, but Palmer wasn’t here. He was free.
He released the man and left him alive but passed out. Strength renewed him, and the dizziness left him. He rushed toward his flat.
His victory was empty without Rosalind. He hid the sack in his chest, then changed his smelly and now bloody clothes. Anyone a mile away would smell him coming.
He shoved daggers, another pistol, and his sword into his belt. He was an excellent shot and wouldn’t let the Twelve have Rosalind.
He left the flat and hurried toward Doyle’s.
He made his way through the crowded street, not paying attention to the well-dressed men and elegantly dressed women.
“Mr. Palmer?”
Phearson stopped in his tracks. Michael Kelly, the provost’s assistant blocked his path.
“Morning, Mr. Kelly.”
“I wanted to thank you for your information. We were able to track down that creature. ’Twas Captain Fear.”
“You caught him?”
Kelley shook his head. “Sadly, no. But we have caught his accomplice. She’s scheduled to hang today.”
Cold fear stabbed Phearson in the heart. “What?”
“’Twas the business with provost’s son. Nasty business. He didn’t waste any time getting a judge to sign her execution. No need for a trial.”
Trying to keep the anger out of his voice, he asked, “Where is this execution supposed to take place?”
“That’s the strangest part.” He lowered his voice, “The provost did not want to draw attention to this quick deed, so it’s being done at Colonial Cemetery at noon.”
Doyle’s doing, no doubt. Phearson gritted his teeth, “The Provost is part of the Pious Twelve?”
Kelley looked nervously around. “I wouldn’t know about that, sir.” He bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Not caring if people noticed, Phearson drew on vampire speed, and faster than the human eye, flashed toward Colonial Cemetery. He prayed he wasn’t too late.
Phearson’s heart lurched against his ribs. Rosalind sat astride on a horse, blindfolded, her wrists tied behind her back. A noose hung from a tree branch. Doyle and his men surrounded her.
Phearson quickly moved in between the trees like a shadow until he was close enough to hear them. The fools hadn’t posted guards and were all focused on Rosalind. Doyle must think he was safe in the daytime. He’d soon learn this was a fatal mistake.
Still alive, Matthews held the horse’s bridle.
Doyle motioned at Foster. “You will now pay for your sins, Rosalind.”
“My sins?” Rosalind laughed. “I go to see my father with a clear conscience. All I have done is exposed your sins.”
Her supposed bride groom, Foster, climbed on another horse, then moved next to Rosalind. “I wish this could have been different.” He pulled the noose down and draped it around her slender neck.
She jerked away. “I don’t. I never wanted to marry you.”
Foster glowered. “Then die, bitch.”
Phearson unsheathed his sword, then drew on vampire speed.
Doyle brought his arm down. “Hang her!”
The men backed away from the horse, creating a path, which was what Phearson needed.
Foster raised his hand to slap the horse’s hind quarters. Phearson raced down the path with his sword raised high over his head. In one swoop, he sliced the rope and dragged Rosalind off the horse onto his.
“You can’t have her.” Foster aimed his pistol at Rosalind.
Anger gripped Phearson. Quick as lightning, he decapitated Barnard’s head and pushed his headless corpse off the stomping horse. It rolled and stopped at Doyle’s feet, splattering blood on the tips of his boots. Barnard’s shocked, lifeless eyes stared up at Doyle.
Doyle screamed.
“’Tis Captain Fear,” Matthews yelled as he fumbled to pull out his pistol.
Phearson jammed his heals into the horse’s flanks and with Rosalind in his lap, they galloped away from the yelling men.
He glanced over his shoulder. They had clambered onto their horses and were in pursuit, but lagged behind. Phearson went deeper into the cemetery then passed into a swamp. Among the thick trees and long vines, he wrapped his arm around Rosalind’s waist, then jumped off the horse, letting it go free. He sheathed his bloodied sword and pulled out dagger. He cut loose Rosalind’s bindings and tore off her blindfold.
She blinked. “Where are we?”
“Swamp. We’re not free yet. They’re coming. Wrap yer arms around my neck.”
She didn’t argue and did as he asked. He quickly climbed up the tree and settled them on a thick branch that was partly hidden by Spanish Moss.
Rosalind slid her hands down his neck and pressed them against his cheeks. “You came back for me.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist. “I told ye I’d always come back for ye.”
She kissed him hard. ’Twas a desperate, probing kiss that ignited a blaze of fury inside him. He took what she offered, devouring her sweet taste and vowing never to let her go again.
The curses and yells of their pursers forced Phearson to break off the kiss. Rosalind clung to him as the men rode past the tree, none of them looking up into the branches.
“This time, we will hang them both,” Doyle said, as he pulled up on his horse’s reins. “They must have gone around the swamp. It’s the only way.”
The men followed Doyle deeper into the swamp. When they disappeared behind the trees, Phearson lifted Rosalind into his arms and jumped. He put her down.
She glanced where the men had gone nervously. “What are we going to do? They’ll hunt us down.”
He took her shaking hand and kissed her palm. “I have a plan. One that will give yer stepfather nightmares for years. Follow me.”
She trembled under his kiss, and her cheeks turned pink. He noticed then her face was unadorned. “Where is your mask?”
“He took it.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He wanted me to die a monster.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Ye know yer not a monster. Only a devilish wench who tempts my heart.”
“And you’re the rogue pirate that surprises me at every turn.”
“I have more surprises yet.” He led her out of the swamp. “I have discovered the name of the captain who is taking the kidnapped men at the Pirate’s House Inn.”
Rosalind grabbed his jacket. “Who?”
“Captain Hopper.”
“He’s here?”
“Ye have heard of him?”
“Yes, when I was in the tunnel, Captain Foster and Mr. Doyle called him that name, but I never thought he docked in Savannah.”
He nodded. “Apparently, he has. It appears Captain Hopper is not well liked among his crew. I suspect the crew is ready for a new captain.”
She stepped in front of him. “Like the crew, I’ll follow you anywhere.”
He lifted her hair off her shoulder. “I know ye will. I want ye by my side.” He scooped her up in his arms. “We must hurry. Hang on tight.”
; Using vampire speed, he ran faster than the human eye could comprehend. Women’s bonnets and men’s top hats flew off their heads as if a gust wind blew.
But there was no wind.
Phearson didn’t care who startled or fell–all that mattered was reaching his room.
Chapter 15
That night, Rosalind crouched with Phearson at the end of the Pirate’s House Inn tunnel. The tunnel ended at a rocky ledge that led to a muddy river embankment. ’The wooden door had been painted the same color as the cliff and was hard to see. ‘Twas only a block away from the Inn. When she’d been in the tunnel, she’d thought it was much longer.
There were ships that were nearby, and Rosalind wondered which one was Hopper’s.
The creaking bugs and lapping water sounded softer than her heavy breathing and beating heart. She was sure Hopper and his men would hear, and she and Phearson would be captured.
Phearson had said that the man he fed from blurted that Mr. Doyle and Captain Foster planned to sell an unsuspecting man to Captain Hopper tonight. He’d brought the chest of stolen jewels from his heists, including her mother’s jewels. He planned to use them to bribe Hopper’s crew to rebel against him.
She wasn’t sure it would work and couldn’t stop trembling. She crowded next to him.
He clasped her hand. “It will be all right. Trust me.”
She wanted to trust him desperately, but her stepfather’s words haunted her. He’d threatened to hang them both. Phearson wasn’t worried, but she was. She could still feel the noose draped around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter.
Heavy footsteps approached, then three men emerged from the darkness. She froze, not sure what to do next.
Phearson released her hand and stood in front of her. “Good evening.”
“Who are you?”
Rosalind bit her lip to keep from gasping. She recognized the gruff voice from when she’d been in the tunnel.
“I’m Captain Fear. Surely, ye have heard of me.”
The men staggered back. The glowing moonlight revealed the horror in their faces. Phearson must have revealed his fangs.
A man pointed a shaking finger. “But you’re-you’re a vampire.”
“Precisely.”
“What do you want?” Hopper demanded as he unleashed a sword.
“I want to be yer captain.”
Hopper laughed. “Over my dead body.”
Phearson grabbed Hopper by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Hopper dropped his sword and pawed at Phearson’s hands and kicked his feet.
His men did nothing to save him just as Phearson had predicted.
Phearson shook him hard. “I could kill ye now, Captain, and only the alligators would find ye.”
“Kill him,” one of his men said. “I’m tired of feeling his lash upon my back.”
“Aye,” the other said. “He stole me when I was a lad.”
Phearson tilted his head toward Rosalind. “Rosalind, show them the jewels.”
She opened the chest, and the moonlight glistened off the diamonds, emeralds, and rubies inside.
“Ye can split them among the crew,” Phearson said, “as long as I am yer captain.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” They both answered at once.
Without hesitation, Phearson sank his fangs into Hopper’s throat.
Both of the men paled. Hopper’s struggles grew weaker, and Phearson dropped him unceremoniously into the mud.
Phearson wiped his mouth on his sleeve and panted. “He’ll live. But if anyone tries to double cross me, ye’ll suffer a meaner fate.”
“We understand. What do you want to know?”
“Do ye have an order to fill?”
“Aye, Hopper planned to sell a young buck to a Spaniard’s ship.”
“Well, we must not disappointment him.”
“Phearson, no,” Rosalind cried.
“Ye do not understand.” He lifted her chin. “’Tis not the young buck who will suffer, but Doyle himself.”
Rosalind should have protested, because ’twas still slavery. But her stepfather had killed her father and robbed her of the life she should have had all because of his lust for her mother.
There were three knocks on the door.
“’Tis the signal,” one of the men said.
Phearson drew his pistol. “Open it.”
The sailor scrambled over Hopper’s unconscious body and opened the door. Her stepfather was there with Mr. Matthews, holding a semiconscious young man.
“We have another one for Hopper.” Her stepfather held the man’s arm. “Where is Hopper?”
“He’s not the captain anymore.”
“Then who is?”
Phearson stepped into the light. “I am.”
Both her stepfather and Mr. Matthews dropped the young man and reached for their guns. The sailor punched Mr. Matthews, who fell onto his back. Phearson knocked her stepfather’s gun out of his hands, grabbed him by the shirt, then tossed at him at his new crew.
“I understand we have an order to fill.”
Mr. Doyle struggled. “Release me this instance! Do you know who I am?”
This time, ’twas Rosalind’s turn to step into the light. “Yes, you’re the man who murdered my father, tried to hang me, and ruined my life.”
“Rosalind!”
She walked over to him and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. “I hope your new master will treat you with the same kindness that you’ve treated me.”
He stared at her with pure hatred. “What are you babbling about, girl?”
“You’re being sold, Esmond.”
“How dare you call me Esmond. I am–”
She smiled. “A slave. Farewell, Esmond.”
His face paled. “No, you can’t be serious. Have mercy.”
“You’ll receive the same mercy you’ve given everyone.” She motioned to the unconscious man on the floor. “This poor soul, the peaceful vampires, everyone you thought was beneath you.”
“No!” He struggled. “Release me this instant!”
“Gag him,” Phearson ordered. “Take him to the Spanish ship. I will not have him on mine.”
“Aye, Captain.” A sailor nodded.
Rosalind took a handkerchief out of her stepfather’s pocket and stuffed it in his mouth. “Good-bye, Esmond. I will never think of you again, but I am sure you’ll think of me every day.”
He protested under the handkerchief, but Rosalind turned deaf to his muffled pleas.
Phearson clasped her hand. “Take him to the Spaniard.”
“Aye, Captain.” The two men dragged Esmond away kicking.
Rosalind slid her arms up Phearson’s chest and kissed him briefly on the lips. “What now, Captain?”
“The Sea Serpent is docked next to the Spaniard. Let’s go see my ship.”
Rosalind stood next to Phearson on the deck of the Sea Serpent. The breeze rushed over her, and instead of wearing the dreaded gowns, she was dressed like a pirate. She was surprised by how easy had been for Phearson to become captain, but the jewels and Hopper’s cruelty had easily convinced the crew. Phearson wasn’t sure what the future held for pirates, but it didn’t matter. He was free and would treat his men fairly to earn their loyalty. Most had stayed, but some were tired of the sea.
Phearson had asked Rosalind’s mother to join them, but she will still in love with Savannah. She’d decided to stay and run the Pirate’s House Inn, minus the abductions.
Rosalind clasped his hand. “Where to now, Captain?”
“I like how ye say that. I have something for ye.”
“You do?”
“Aye. We are headed for England. I have not seen her for a while. Come follow me.”
He led her back to their cabin, where they’d spent endless nights exploring each other’s bodies, and her skin was chaffed from his kisses. He insisted at night that she not wear her leather mask because he wanted her naked and breathless beneath him.
“You want
to make love now?”
“I always want to take ye, but that’s not why I’m taking ye here.”
He opened the door, and on the bed, there was a pink package.
“Go ahead, open it.”
She kissed him on the lips. “Phearson, thank you.”
“Ye dona even know what it is yet.”
“I know. But you just getting something for me warms my heart.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless.
“Ye better open that package before it’s on the floor.”
She smiled and went over to the bed. She carefully took off the lid and gasped. A white leather mask had diamonds sewn around the edges. She looked up at him, unable to speak.
He walked over to her. “’Tis a pirate mask. Each diamond represents the number of days I’ve known ye, and each day I lost a piece of my heart to ye.”
Tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged him, feeling his heart beating as hard as hers. “Phearson, ’tis beautiful. I love you.”
Before she knew it, they were in each other’s arms and spent the day discovering how to pleasure each other. But this time, Phearson let her wear the pirate’s mask.
About the Author
Award Winning Author M.L. Guida loves the paranormal. Even when she was four years old, she would watch the soap opera, Dark Shadows, and fell in love with vampires! Who wouldn't want a bite on the neck? Currently, she has two series with vampires: the Legends of the Soaring Phoenix and Vampires on Holiday. But she didn't stop there. Witches, dragons, angels, and demons are sprinkled throughout her books.
Today, she continues to love the preternatural and watches Supernatural, Paranormal Survivor, and A Haunting. Like Dean Winchester, she loves to write alpha males who aren't afraid to face the forces of evil.
M.L. lives in Colorado near the Rocky Mountains. She loves to take her cocker spaniel, Raven, for walks on the trails behind her house. When she travels, she tries to go on ghost tours. Her favorite so far was the Jack the Ripper tour in London.
She currently writes for Kensington/Lyrical Imprint, and she's self-publishes. She is a member of Colorado Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America.
