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

by Tamara Hughes

“How will you retake the cross?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find a way.” She needn’t worry. He had no intention of involving her. “Now then, who holds your mother and son?”

  She peered at the Ruby Cross. If she were in better condition, no doubt she would grab it and run.

  He released a long steadying breath. “I could have handed you over to a constable and kept the cross for myself, but I didn’t, and I never will. Trust me.”

  Catherine studied him, looking deeply into his eyes.

  “I rescued you from a burning ship,” he reminded her. “Tried to protect you from Barnet, and saved you from one of your own men last night…and brought you here…”

  “Yes, yes. You’re right,” she conceded, but still gave pause. “Simon Brewer and his men have my mother and son.”

  “Simon Brewer? The owner of the Brass Lion.” A well-known gambling den that catered to the rich.

  “He’s the one.”

  “How did you get involved with him?” The man had a reputation as a greedy bounder with a penchant for lambasting politicians who didn’t act in his favor.

  Irritation hardened her jaw for a fleeting moment. “Peter borrowed money from him when he decided to go pirating.”

  “And the debt was never repaid,” he guessed.

  “Not in full, no. Peter paid him what he could, but once he died, the payments stopped.”

  “How much does he still owe?”

  She held out her hand. “One Ruby Cross.”

  When he made no move to give it to her, she muttered beneath her breath and let her hand drop to the bed. “He owes more than I can ever hope to repay.”

  But why her? “Why didn’t Brewer take this up with Barnet and the crew?”

  “How?” she scoffed. “Sail after them and demand payment on the open sea? Besides, his arrangement had been with Peter, no one else. Curse his soul.”

  “But to threaten a widow…” The bastard.

  “I’m sure he believed I had contact with the crew and could count on them for help. And he was right.” Wincing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Luckily, they hadn’t yet left London after telling me of Peter’s death.”

  “And the Ruby Cross?” he asked, propping a pillow behind her, his mind trying to grasp… “How did Brewer even know of it? How did he know it was in my possession?”

  She shook her head wearily.

  It had probably been his own damn fault. His first attempt at selling the cross had failed. He’d been asking too much, pressing too hard. Had Seacourt defied his wishes and talked to others about the cross? Possibly. Although he’d found another who might have had an interest in buying, that one seemed all too nervous. Had he been warned away? “Why blackmail you? Why didn’t Brewer send his own men to steal the cross?”

  “From what I’ve heard, he tried. His men searched your ship and your home. They found nothing.” Her movements slow, she worked her way toward the other side of the bed. “Lord knows, desperation can inspire ingenuity.”

  The news shouldn’t surprise him. He’d known someone had trespassed on the ship. His watchmen had been laid low in the process, but his home? He hadn’t noticed anything out of place. How had they broken in? Through a window?

  “I don’t have time for all this talk, and it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” She flipped the covers from her legs. “Now that I’m in London with the cross, I need to go to Brewer and get Jonas and my mother back.” She glanced at her bare legs, her brow furrowing. “Where are my clothes?”

  She still wore her shirt for modesty. The rest he’d removed for her comfort, and for a good wash. “You’re in no condition to be up and about, and even if you were fit to do so, you can’t just go charging over there and demand your family.”

  “I want Jonas back straightaway.” On a sharp intake of air, she rose to her feet, so unsteady she could very well fall.

  For pity’s sake. He rounded the bed and took hold of her arms, forcing her to sit. “I know, but we have to act with our wits about us. Brewer isn’t known for his trustworthiness. We have to give him no choice but to hand over his hostages.”

  “How do we do that?” she asked, leaning into him.

  “I can tell you what we don’t do. We don’t go with the cross in hand into his place of business or his home. He’ll be surrounded by his men, and he’ll start making demands.”

  She speared him with a look filled with pain and impatience. “My son has been in Brewer’s clutches for far too long already and my mother… She’s ill. God only knows how she’s faring.”

  He took her hands in his. “Listen to me. I know you’re frightened for them, and you’re eager to get them back now that you have the cross, but if you aren’t cautious in how you go about this, all may still be lost.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Even so, I’m sorely tired of you trying to tell me what to do,” she grumbled, although she stayed where she was, snuggled into his side. “I’m my own woman. I’ve survived in the worst part of London without your guidance or protection for the last six years. I don’t need you or anyone else forcing me to follow their lead.”

  He settled an arm around her, eager to offer what comfort he could. “I’m not trying to force you.”

  Her face flushed with color. A fine sight to see, considering how pale she’d been moments ago. “Are you sure? You did the same thing on the ship yesterday.” She flung her hands in the air. “Come with me to free the prisoners… Take the weapons to my men… And then when we fought the guards, you battled them both rather than let me help.”

  “Most would thank me for dispatching those men.” Not Catherine. For some ungodly reason, she had to do everything herself.

  She pulled away from him slightly, her eyes narrowed. “And the kiss, in front of your men, to show all who was the victor—”

  “I kissed you to reinforce in their minds whose side you were on. The kiss told them that you are under my protection.” He’d done it for her.

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she rested against him once more. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I’ve been on my own for too long. Now it seems I can’t stop myself from questioning the motives behind every helping hand.”

  Her apology and admission surprised him to no end. In truth, she deserved one as well. “I’m sorry, too. You’re right. I have a tendency to take control and become stubborn about doing things my way.” Despite his sincerity, the words scraped his throat raw, but he forged on. “I have no doubt that you are more than capable of handling most things on your own. But in this case, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to be rational when you have so much to lose.” He could hardly imagine what he’d do in her place. “Let’s try to work together, as partners.”

  “Are you even capable—”

  He bent to the side to look her in the eye. Would she really take that tack? She’d just apologized for the same sentiment.

  She cringed. “I’m sorry, again. Indeed. Let’s work together.”

  “Good.” He settled her back against the pillow and covered her with the bedding. “Rest this afternoon, and we’ll go to Brewer’s club tonight when there are plenty of witnesses should he decide to do something rash. But the cross stays here, well hidden, so he can’t take it from us before you have your son and mother.”

  “Agreed. Even if we brought the cross along, it would be of no use. Brewer wouldn’t hold Jonas and my mother at the club. He’s more likely to keep them somewhere no one could chance seeing them.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said as he rose to his feet. Hopefully a few hours would be all she needed to recuperate enough for their meeting with Brewer. If he could approach Brewer himself, he would, but the man would be expecting Catherine, Thomas’s partner in this misadventure. Partner. He suspected this arrangement wouldn’t be easy for him, or for her. She didn’t have faith in anyone, much less him. But what more could he do to earn her trust? Only time would tell.

  …

  With Thomas bes
ide her, Catherine approached the door to the Brass Lion, anxiety stretching her nerves taut. She wanted her son tonight, immediately, but knew full well that wouldn’t happen. Oh, Jonas. Are you well? I’m getting closer to bringing you home.

  She glanced over at Thomas. He was staring at her again, an admiring glimmer in his green eyes. While at any other time his regard might have inspired excitement, not now. She raised her hands to her hips. “Yes, I’m wearing a dress.” His cousin’s dress, coat, and hat, the fine quality of which she’d never worn in her entire life. “Look your fill and be done.” If she hadn’t left her only dress on the ship when they’d fled, she might have worn her own.

  He leaned in close. “I can’t help myself. You look stunning. Much better than in the shabby suit you’ve been wearing.”

  God help her, the excitement did show itself then, shooting from her breasts to her thighs. But alas, it vanished as quickly as it came, and her nerves returned to their quaking.

  Thomas knocked on the door. A thickset, savage-looking man opened it a crack. His gaze took them in, the din of the gambling room loud behind him. “No women allowed inside but the ones paid for.”

  “Mr. Brewer has been waiting for my visit. I have a certain cross he’s been searching for.” She lifted her chin a notch. “He’ll want to see us.”

  The guard nodded. “Wait here,” he ordered gruffly before shutting the door.

  “I’ll do the negotiating,” Thomas insisted. “We go in, set up an exchange time and place, and get out.”

  He’ll what? No. “I beg your pardon. You’re not even supposed to be here. This is an arrangement between myself and Simon Brewer,” she argued, with more patience than she’d thought she’d have at this moment. “I’m the one who should speak, not you.”

  He shook his head and heaved a sigh. “Catherine, we’ve already discussed this. You have too much invested in the result of this meeting. It would be better if I took the lead.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her stomach lurched. Although they had discussed what they’d do when they arrived at the Brass Lion, now that they were here, the need to act on her own was like an itch demanding to be scratched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to rely on another. She smoothed her skirts and inhaled a deep breath. Thomas will do what is best.

  The door opened, and the guard waved them in. “Follow me.”

  She stepped into a crowded great room filled with well-dressed men surrounding the several tables that filled the space. The place was elegant, with fine portraits hanging on the walls, barely visible through the fog of pipe smoke. The laughter and voices deafened as the men enjoyed every comfort—food, drink, women, and gambling. So intent on their games, no one took notice of her as she crossed the room to a door in the back, Thomas by her side.

  They entered Simon Brewer’s office. A desk took up the center of the room, and the man himself sat behind it in a plush chair. In his expensive suit and wig, he looked just as he had when she’d seen him last—fat, smug, and detestable.

  “Where is the Ruby Cross?” he demanded. When he spied Thomas follow her through the door, his well-pleased smile faded into a scowl. Good.

  “It’s in a safe place,” she assured him.

  The guard who’d led them to the office left, but another stood to Brewer’s right, this one with features similar to Brewer’s. He had to be the swine’s brother.

  Brewer pointed toward Thomas. “Why is he here?”

  Thomas spoke up. “I have a keen interest in this…arrangement.”

  Brewer’s lip curled, and his hard stare landed on her. “I disagree. She was supposed to procure the cross and leave you behind. In which case, she gets her son and I get the Ruby Cross, while you, Mr. Glanville, get nothing.”

  Dread settled like granite in her stomach. “And mother,” she added.

  “What?” Brewer snapped.

  “I get my son, and mother.”

  He waved her words away, and her heart clambered for her throat. Something was wrong. “Tell me—”

  He turned his attention to Thomas. “What do you want?”

  “The deal was the cross for both my mother and Jonas,” she hurled back at him, charging to the edge of his desk. Her hands reached for her sword and dagger and came away empty. Curse this dress. Not that she would have been allowed inside the Brass Lion with weapons strapped at her hips.

  Brewer didn’t even trouble himself to look her way. “Why are you here?” he asked Thomas.

  Her hand clenched at her side, and without thinking, she reared her arm back, ready to plow her fist into the face of the arse sitting before her. Brewer’s guard stepped forward when Thomas grabbed her about the waist, hauling her several feet away. Damn him.

  “I’m here to help her get her family,” Thomas answered.

  Skepticism rode every line of Brewer’s visage. “Why? She planned to steal the cross from you.”

  “My reasons are my own.” Thomas held her tighter when she tried to step away. “Now let’s establish a time and place for the exchange.”

  Brewer turned his attention to her. “Who else knows about our deal?”

  A ship full of pirates now likely in Newgate or already hung. “No one.”

  He rubbed his chin as he contemplated her answer. “Hyde Park, in the thicket just past the Triple Tree. Tomorrow, midnight.” He glanced at Thomas, then pierced her with a cold glare. “Come alone.”

  She pushed away from Thomas, breaking his hold. If his help meant Brewer wouldn’t complete the exchange, then Thomas would have no part. “And my mother?” she asked.

  “I’ll be coming with her,” Thomas interjected. “Along with my men.”

  She shot him an incredulous look. “No, you won’t.”

  Thomas didn’t spare her a look. His attention remained squarely on Brewer. “You’ll have your men, and I’ll have mine, to make certain everything goes as planned.”

  “Thomas,” she warned.

  The two men stared at each other as if assessing strengths and weaknesses.

  “I have the Ruby Cross,” Thomas growled, his stance confident and sure. “We do this my way, or we don’t make the exchange at all.”

  What? She turned to Brewer, prepared to plead her case, but stopped short when Brewer spoke.

  “Very well,” Brewer ground out. He nodded toward his guard. “See them out, George.”

  The guard walked toward them and her pulse took flight. “Wait. My mother—”

  Brewer pinched the bridge of his nose as if pained. “Your mother is dead.”

  Her breath left her lungs in a rush, and the world lost its clarity. Dead. Thomas grasped her hand and led her through the gambling room and outside to the street. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the evening chill. As agony bloomed inside her chest, she held onto her anger with both hands.

  “You shouldn’t have challenged Brewer, making demands,” she bit out, jerking her hand out of his and striding forward down the largely deserted street. “I could have lost my son for good!”

  Thomas caught up with her, meeting her stride for stride. “I knew what I was doing… The look in Brewer’s eyes… He wants the Ruby Cross too badly to let it slip through his fingers.” He grasped her arm, forcing her to stop. “He wasn’t going to refuse my demands.”

  She peered at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. “Demands made because you want the cross for yourself! You don’t care about my son! If he were to die…” When she finally looked at him, the sympathy and concern she saw in his gaze cut through her anger and tugged at her heart. “He said he wasn’t going to give my mother to me.” Her voice cracked, the pain working its way back in. “I was trying to…” She couldn’t go on.

  Thomas rubbed his hands along her arms. “I suspected he no longer had your mother or that something had happened to her the moment he mentioned he might not give her to us.”

  He had?

  “Why would he keep your mother without asking you to do more of h
is bidding?”

  A sob broke free as memories flooded her mind. Her mother’s kind words, her worried face. She’d always been troubled by how much Catherine worked, by how little they had. And now, she was gone. Thomas ushered her into his waiting carriage, then gathered her close and held her, murmuring soothing words as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She cried for her mother, for her son, and for herself, as she hadn’t allowed herself to do for as long as she could remember.

  Chapter Ten

  Thomas poured himself a drink as Catherine sank into a chair in his parlor. He would not soon forget the sight of her tears and misery. Seeing her cry had put an ache in his chest, one that would remain until her son was free. Damn Brewer. That bastard needed to suffer for taking the boy away from his mother. Stealing the cross back from him wasn’t enough. He swallowed a healthy gulp of brandy, although its usual power to soothe and relax did little for him this day.

  “How soon do you need to contact your men to help with the exchange?” Catherine asked in a weary tone. “With your ship gone, will they disperse to different jobs, different ships?”

  He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, dreading her reaction to his answer. “They’ve already been told of my request.”

  She sat up a bit straighter in her seat. “They have. When?”

  Draining the last of his brandy, he inwardly cringed. “I spoke to my first mate Hugh this morn while you slept.”

  Catherine’s brow drew low, her expression incredulous. “You planned to bring your men to the exchange even before I awoke?” Her hands clamped onto the arms of the chair, and she shook her head. “What gave you the right to make such a decision? This is the rescue of my son. What gave you the right to concern yourself at all?”

  Was she bloody crazy? “I beg your pardon?” He set down his glass and strode toward her chair. Such a stubborn woman. “You stole the cross from me. I could have taken it back and left you behind. Instead, I’m helping you.”

  Her chin quavered and she looked away. “Your goals aren’t the same as mine. You wish to beat Brewer at a game in which the prize is the Ruby Cross.” She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, then stared him in the eyes once more. “Mine is to rescue my son, to have him with me again, safe and sound.”