His Pirate Seductress (Love on the High Seas Book 3)

by Tamara Hughes

  Barnet bent his head, his mouth nearly touching her ear. “Peter never loved you like I do.”

  With a shudder of revulsion, she stepped back. “Barnet—”

  “He spoke badly about you,” he added in a rush. “Said all you ever cared about was money.”

  Over the course of their marriage, they had argued about their lack constantly. A fact she’d regretted for years after he’d left.

  Barnet’s hands clenched into fists, and he breathed a bit faster. “He grumbled how your mother wasn’t worth the food she ate.”

  A sense of foreboding inspired the hairs on her neck to prickle all the more.

  “Peter said he wouldn’t be surprised if you whored yourself out, given your eagerness for coin.” Barnet’s whole body shook, and his eyes glittered with desperation. “I couldn’t stand his talk anymore.”

  Her heart clawed its way into her throat, making it almost impossible to speak. “What did you do?” she rasped.

  His gaze shifted away from her, and a chill sank into her skin.

  “Barnet, you told me Peter died during a battle at sea. Did you tell me the truth?” She knew the answer even before his hard stare returned to her and he shook his head.

  Her breath froze in her lungs. “What happened?”

  He turned toward the rail and grasped hold, his knuckles turning white. “We were drunk late at night, and he was sayin’ those things, and I… I pushed him overboard.”

  Dear God. Her legs wobbled for an instant, but she forced herself to stand firm. “Does the crew know?” They wouldn’t take kindly to a crewman killing their captain. Maybe if she…

  “No, and they never will.” His tone held a threatening edge. “Don’t be gettin’ thoughts like that in your head. Whether you’re cap’n or not, they won’t believe your word over mine.”

  Sadly true. He knew these men far better than she ever would. He’d sailed with most for six years. And she had no proof of what he’d done. She glared at his back, the urge to lash out almost too strong to resist. “Why tell me he died in battle?”

  Barnet cast her a sideways glance. “We all agreed that a widow would rather not hear that her husband perished by fallin’ overboard while drunk.”

  Far better than finding out he’d been killed by a friend. “Why confess to me now?”

  He faced her once more, his look sincere. “I want no secrets between us, knowin’ we’ll be married.”

  Her stomach churned. Married to him? She’d rather die. She itched to slap him and tell him to go to hell, or better yet, run him through with her sword. But the sight of the pouch containing the Ruby Cross stayed her hand. She had no doubt he kept it in plain view on his belt for just such a purpose—a reminder of who was really in control. The quartermaster had become captain.

  She’d best keep her wits. She’d let Barnet believe he’d cowed her. The lives of her son and mother depended upon it. And she wouldn’t fail them. Not now. Not ever. “I need to be alone,” she told him, in the calmest voice she could manage, and marched away from the man she detested, a plan forming in her mind.

  …

  Already morning, judging by the daylight beyond Thomas’s small window. Hours had passed since Catherine’s last visit. Why hadn’t she returned? Why indeed. Apparently marrying Barnet isn’t so distasteful to her after all.

  Thomas cursed under his breath and knocked his head against the wall. His brothers would get a good chuckle out of this one. A ship’s captain for barely a year and he’s captured by pirates, his ship sunk, and he’s subjected to the indignity of being ransomed to his family. He yanked at the chain. This time with the fury of a Bedlamite, to no avail.

  At least Catherine would have her family back, even if it did mean spending her life with a crazed pirate. The thought annoyed him. He’d offered her a way out of the situation she’d found herself in. Help him and his men escape, and he’d assist her in getting the cross from Barnet. Instead, she’d rather marry Barnet, a man of violence. The sight of her lying on the floor, after the quartermaster had shoved her, still haunted him. She’d be treated to more of the same from her new husband in the coming years. Damn.

  No wonder she had a ferociously independent streak, considering the men she chose to wed.

  The scrape of footsteps near the door gave him pause. The door opened, and Catherine swept into the room, closing it behind her. “You were right. Barnet killed him. He killed my husband!” She paced the area before him, her eyes wild.

  Hmm. His guess had proven true. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed with himself or outraged on her behalf.

  “And he expects me to marry him, even after his confession.”

  “Will you?”

  “What?” She stopped and glanced at him, confusion clouding her face, as if she’d forgotten he was there, chained to a wall.

  “Marry him,” he clarified.

  She marched a path across the floor again. “No. I won’t have my husband’s murderer raising my son.” Catherine wrung her hands, her pace unrelenting. “I need to think of a plan… First, we’ll need…”

  He jingled his chain. “A key.” Hard to assist when locked inside a storage room.

  “Yes. The key to your shackles, but who has it? Do you remember who locked you in here?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The crewman won’t have the key. Barnet will want to make sure you don’t release me. He’ll have it close at hand.”

  She frowned, her expression one of annoyance. “Like the cross he keeps in a pouch.”

  “Exactly.” The prize they all wanted.

  “It’s probably in a pocket.” She nodded. “I’ll find a way to get it.”

  “How soon?” No matter when, it wouldn’t be soon enough for him.

  “Don’t worry. We have time. We’ll dock in London late tonight, and as you said, we should wait until then to attack.”

  Was she seriously going to wait that long before releasing him? “Just because I’m no longer chained, doesn’t mean we have to attack immediately thereafter.”

  “But if someone comes to check on you and you’re free—”

  “I’ll detain him.”

  “And if there are more than one?”

  He cast her an incredulous look. She didn’t think he could dispatch more than one man at a time?

  “Barnet could realize the key is gone.”

  He cocked his head to the side, his stare mocking. If she were the one chained, she wouldn’t be making such excuses.

  “Very well,” she sighed. “I’ll attempt to get the key soon.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Now then, once the crew is busy preparing to dock, you’ll release your men, obtain weapons, and attack, while I get the cross.”

  She’d go it alone? The thought tightened his chest. “How do you plan to retrieve the cross from Barnet?”

  She palmed the hilt of her sword. “By whatever means necessary. I’ll fight him if I have to.”

  Of that, he had no doubt. “But are you prepared to kill for what you want?” Her methods of torture certainly didn’t lead to that conclusion.

  Despite her show of mettle, worry creased her brow before she raised her chin high. “Perhaps it won’t come to that.”

  “I’m not so sure. Barnet is obsessed with you, and he knows that once you have the cross, you’ll have no more need of him. He won’t let you go without a fight.”

  An arrogant smile tilted her lips, her confidence damn attractive…until she spoke. “Are you really so worried about me, or is this your way of telling me you need my help releasing the prisoners?”

  Bloody woman. “Absolutely not.” He didn’t need a woman or anyone else to fight his battles. All he needed was one to unlock these accursed shackles. Good Lord he was tired of being restrained, and this trip had been almost nothing but. “However, my men will need weapons. Which I could obtain if you get me the key.”

  She flung her hands into the air as if he’d proven some point in her head. “You can’t g
o prowling around the ship. Someone will recognize you. Besides, they likely distributed your men’s weapons amongst the pirate crew. Your men will need to make use of what they can find once they’re free.”

  “You’re right. Many of the weapons would have been appropriated, but probably not all.” It would be worth the look.

  Pointing in his direction, she headed for the door. “I’ll see what I can find, but you stay here.”

  As if he had a choice. Although that wasn’t what troubled him most. “Once my men are no longer prisoners, I’ll help you get the cross.”

  She shook her head, her hand on the door handle. “There’s no need. I require you and your men to be a distraction, nothing more.”

  With that, she left the room, her footsteps fading down the corridor. She would be getting a lot more than a distraction if he had any say in the matter. Not only would she likely need his help defeating Barnet, but he wasn’t about to let the Ruby Cross leave this ship without him. Catherine could use it to save her son and mother, but that didn’t mean he would let their kidnappers keep the relic. It would be his, just as it was meant to be.

  Chapter Eight

  Catherine strode to Barnet’s cabin, her hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at her side. How she wished to slice him through, but if she dared, the crew would have her head.

  She and Peter may have had their differences, but Barnet had no right to take matters into his own hands. If Barnet did indeed become her husband and Jonas’s stepfather, what would become of her son? Would Barnet see him as a constant reminder of what he’d done to Peter? Would he come to resent Jonas, maybe even wish him gone? Her throat squeezed tight until she could barely breathe. She would keep her son safe from Barnet, no matter what she had to do.

  Staring at the door to his cabin, she hesitated before making her presence known. She’d rather not see Barnet’s odious mug again, but how else could she get the key? Shoulders back, she rapped on the cabin door, and footsteps approached from the other side. The door swung open, and she faced Barnet.

  His eyes widened, and a look of hope softened his features. “Catherine,” he breathed. “Come in.”

  She forced her hand from her sword and did as he asked, stepping into a cabin much smaller than her own. Sparsely furnished, his quarters were orderly and free from clutter of any kind. She cleared her throat. Best get this over and done with. But the words of absolution she’d planned to say wouldn’t spring forth. “I can’t excuse what you did to Peter,” she admitted instead.

  Barnet stepped close, his gaze beseeching her to understand. “I did it for you… For us,” he insisted. “I will make your life better than it ever was.”

  She had to stop herself from releasing the bitter laugh that threatened. “How? What sort of job will you find on land? Other than a butcher shop boy, what other respectable job have you ever had?”

  “Until I can find somethin’ better, I’ll go back to work at Eli Harlow’s gin shop. He’s always in need of men to keep the patrons from beatin’ on one another.”

  Harlow was always in need because his drunken customers would oftentimes take out their troubles on not only one another, but anyone within reach. If he worked there, Barnet might be beaten to bits, which might save her the trouble.

  Barnet picked up her hand and laid a kiss on its back. “Catherine, just give us a try.”

  Inside, she recoiled at his touch even as she curved her lips into what she hoped was a pleasant smile. She’d come here for a reason, and she’d best not lose sight of her goal. “I do appreciate your honesty.” At least now she knew how foolish it would be to marry him, the murderous swine.

  Now how to get the key? She settled a hand on his chest and gave him her best coquettish look. “This simply feels so strange. We’ve never so much as kissed.” Mentally, she grimaced, the mere thought of kissing him abhorrent.

  He drew her closer, grinning. “That is somethin’ we can rectify without delay.”

  Oh God, no. She braced herself.

  Barnet dipped his head, his mouth closing in, and she swallowed the rising bile in her throat, one thought foremost in her mind. Dear Lord, let the key be hidden in his coat pocket rather than in his breeches.

  …

  Looking about her to make sure she hadn’t been followed, Catherine slipped into the storage area, a lamp in one hand and a few items of clothing in the other.

  “Where have you been?” Thomas bit out before she could even close the door.

  “Shh.” She rushed toward him and set down the lamp and garments. “We don’t have much time. The crew is preparing to dock.”

  His green eyes glinted with annoyance. “We agreed you’d free me earlier than this.”

  Leaning close, she lifted her hands high and winced as her shoulder throbbed. She pushed the ache from her mind and worked to fit the key in the shackle’s lock. “We never truly agreed on that point. It really made no sense to me. Why risk discovery?”

  His lean jaw hardened, his face so near, their breath intermingled. “Risk discovery,” he growled. “You didn’t trust me to stay hidden and to handle anyone who might check on me, not that anyone has.”

  She couldn’t quite reach… She adjusted her position, her chest pressing into his, and winced as the pain in her shoulder sharpened. Although he wore no shirt, his body warmed hers from the chilly night air. He bent his head slightly toward her throbbing shoulder as if he might kiss it, but after a moment’s pause, drew back. Her gaze slid to his mouth, and she remembered his hot kisses, desire flaring bright inside her. The key clicked home, freeing one of Thomas’s wrists. “If it’s any consolation, I trust almost no one.”

  He grunted. In acceptance or disgust, she couldn’t rightly tell. And didn’t care. He should be grateful she was releasing him. If the key had been in the pocket of Barnet’s breeches instead of his coat, she might not be. Thankfully, she was able to make her excuses and leave before Barnet pressed her for more than mere kisses. The other shackle fell away, and she stepped back to retrieve the clothes from the floor. “Here’s a shirt, and a scarf to hide your hair. It’s the best I could find.”

  Thomas took the items and pulled the shirt over his head. “No boots?” he grumbled.

  “My apologies,” she scoffed. “You’ll have to make do.” She handed him a cutlass from her belt and Barnet’s ring of keys.

  A red scarf now hiding his golden locks, Thomas glanced her way and tucked the short sword into his belt. “My men will need more weapons.”

  “There are some stored in a closet on the gun deck, midship, larboard side. The key to the closet is on the ring.” She returned to the door, determination in her steps. “Go. Release your men and provide me with a distraction, then we’ll never have to see each other again.” A pang of sadness invaded her chest, but she forced the feeling away. Soon this would all be over, and she’d have the cross she needed to save Jonas and her mother.

  She grasped hold of the door handle, the metal cool to the touch, and couldn’t help herself. She looked at the man she would leave behind and found him staring back.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “To free my men.”

  The offer was tempting, if nothing more than to have a few more moments at Thomas’s side. What foolishness. A bleak laugh caught in her throat. “I thought you didn’t need my help.”

  “I don’t,” he admitted, striding forward until he stood by her side. “But if you’re with me, I can protect you.”

  Her spine straightened even as her heart warmed. “I don’t need your protection,” she insisted, her voice softer than she’d intended it to be. She’d been taught well how to wield a sword. Still, the fierce expression on his face touched a vulnerable place deep inside, and she added, “It’s you who will be fighting to escape. I only have Barnet to contend with.”

  “You’re right.” A smile flickered on his lips. “Then maybe we should meet afterward and compare our victories.”

 
; After all she had put him through—the humiliation of being stripped and bound, the destruction of his ship—why would he want to meet afterward? Unless he desired revenge. Did he want her close in order to turn her over to the authorities and retake possession of the cross? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, she had no intention of giving him the opportunity. “No need to meet afterward. My victory won’t be complete until my family is safe.” She’d never given him her full name or the exact location of where she lived. Once she left this ship, she should be safe enough from discovery. And to be sure, she would find another place to live, another part of London…another hovel.

  She opened the door and scanned the corridor before moving ahead, Thomas trailing behind, her lantern in his hand. They followed the passage, but she raised a hand prior to stepping onto the deck. Although dark, best not emerge together. If Barnet saw them, their plan would fail straightaway.

  Catherine moved ahead, and her pulse quickened at the sight of the pier. Many of the crew stood at the rail, eager to be ashore, while others manned their stations as Barnet barked out orders on the main deck. “Ease the helm to starboard.”

  She kept an eye on Barnet as Thomas passed her and descended the stairs. Her nerves vibrating with tension, she watched Thomas enter a door on the gun deck to gather weapons for his men as planned. A crewman turned as Thomas’s back disappeared into the passageway. A questioning look on his face, he followed, motioning for another of the pirate crew to join him.

  Worrying her lip, she glanced between Barnet and the doorway the pirates had gone through. Thomas could handle them. He could, and he would… Bloody hell. She had time to spare. Trying her best to appear unhurried, she made her way to the door and slipped inside the passageway. The dread inspired by the ring of steel on steel propelled her forward at a faster pace. Just down the corridor, Thomas fought the pirates with his back to the wall. They each pitted two daggers against his one cutlass.

  “You there,” she called out. “Stand down.”

  Thomas’s gaze darted toward her, confusion drawing his brows low. Neither pirate heeded her command. “This is Glanville. He’s escaped,” one yelled. They slashed at Thomas, their blades glimmering in the lamplight. Despite his remarkable skill, Thomas’s arm and chest bled from wounds.