by Zoe Blake
She looked down, surprised to see he was already fully dressed, right down to his thick boots and the long, black oilskin coat he was wearing when they first met. It seemed like months, not a day ago.
There was a pounding on the cabin door. Belle covered herself more securely with the blanket.
“That will be Drake,” said Chance as he moved to open the door.
In the passageway was Drake and a disheveled Marina. “I thought the women could comfort one another. It’s going to be a rough one,” he said gruffly, not wanting to acknowledge he was doing something thoughtful for either captive.
Chance nodded his assent and moved away from the door so Marina could pass. With a final glance at the female still warm in his bed, taking in the glossy black hair falling about her creamy shoulders. Her lips, red and swollen from his kisses.
“Do not light the lamps,” he said equally as gruffly, even less willing to acknowledge a soft spot for his little spitfire. “Let’s go,” he said with a nod to Drake.
Both women were then left in the dark cabin, the silence no barrier to their conflicting emotions.
Chapter Eight
Her Escape
It was the worst fifteen hours of her life. Belle gave a small laugh at the thought. In the last two days she had been attacked by pirates, taken captive, lost her maidenhead and yet a thunderstorm was the worst of it.
Except it wasn’t just a thunderstorm. For hours upon hours the ship had been tossed like a cork amid the high waves and torrential rain. The nauseating movement of the ship seemed never to cease. The sound of the waves hitting the decks above was deafening. The ship rocked and creaked. While the heaviest furniture in the cabin was nailed down, the various incidentals were not. Belle and Marina gave up on trying to keep the books, maps and nautical tools from sliding about, finally just shoving anything loose they could find into the random trunks he had strewn about the room.
The only problem was once that task was complete, they had nothing else to do but huddle together and listen to the sounds of the raging storm, praying the ship would hold.
Clasped in each other’s arms, neither felt like sharing what their experience had been like in the hands of the pirates. Besides, the sound of the squall outside drowned out any attempts at conversation. At one time, they had been certain the ship was splitting apart. The shattering boom of the wave and then the sickening noise of splintering wood terrified them. Then there was a massive crash, sending small bits of dust and debris to mist down on them from the wooden beams above. They waited, what felt like an eternity, neither daring to breathe. But instead of the floods of water they half expected as the ship sank, the sounds returned to the same relentless pounding booms and wails.
Hours into the storm, a cabin boy brought them something to eat.
“Sorry,” he said as he laid a plate of salt cod and biscuits in front of them on the floor. “Ol’ Salt can’t light a fire in the galley during the storm.” He turned to leave. Belle reached out to grab his arm.
“The captain. Is he all right?”
Confused at her concern, the cabin boy just laughed. “Course, miss! Captain’s the best there is! Old Davy Jones’ locker might get ‘em, but it won’t be from a silly bit of rain!”
Belle released his arm and the cabin boy raced out of the room, anxious to get back to the action.
Ignoring Marina’s questioning look, Belle resumed her position huddled on the floor among the bed linens and blankets. Both had decided hours ago it was safer than trying to keep their seats in one of the nailed down wooden chairs.
Belle couldn’t believe what had come over her. Instead of asking about the storm or the state of the ship or whether they would all live or die, she had asked about the welfare of her captor! Angry for showing concern, Belle did what she usually made a point of never doing. She was honest with herself.
Against all common sense and in some respects decency, she had fallen in love with Chance. How it was possible, she couldn’t even begin to say. The man was handsome to be sure. Any woman would fall for those dark, brooding looks. And those tattoos! They were scandalously attractive. So forbidden and yet beautiful. Belle remembered after he had taken her twice, his prize for beating her in chess as he said, she had lain in bedding tracing the lines of each one. Marvelling at the artistry. Marvelling even more that this powerful, sometimes fearsome, man was letting her leisurely touch his body. He just laid next to her, playing with a lock of her hair. It had been a strangely tender moment given their station in life.
If she were going to be really honest with herself, she would think about how his punishments seemed to lead to pleasure, but Belle was not ready for that. She had had enough honesty for the moment. What she needed was a plan. No good would come of her attraction. Men like Chance did not suddenly become gentlemen who want to lead respectable lives with wives and babies. Knowing her feelings, she could no longer risk waiting for him to ask her father for a ransom. She needed to save herself. But how? The answer was easier then she could have supposed.
* * *
Both women eventually fell into an exhausted sleep. They were startled by the entrance of the cabin boy. He had a pitcher of fresh water and a bottle of wine.
It took them a moment to realize the ship was calm. No more rocking and being tossed about. It was also strangely, eerily quiet.
“Storm passed!” announced the cabin boy cheerily. “Ol’ Salt will have a nice hot meal for the crew and you misses as soon as he can get the fires going.”
“How is the ship?” Belle croaked out, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
“We lost a sail when the jib boom gave out,” he answered.
That must have been the loud crashing sound they had heard in the early morning, thought Belle.
“The bilge is taking on too much water because the scuppers are clogged with crap. That’s why she’s listing a bit,” continued the cabin boy. “And the prow took a real hit.” He could not contain the energetic light in his eyes, still keyed up from the adventure of the night before. “Captain says we have to head to port for repairs. Should be there in a few hours.” With a promise to bring hot food when it was ready, he left in haste, forgetting to lock the door.
“A port!” said Belle, grabbing Marina’s hand. “We can escape there.”
“Escape?” exclaimed a flabbergasted Marina. “You cannot mean it!”
“I do,” said Belle with more conviction then she felt. “Are you with me?”
Marina hesitated. Knowing it was crazy to say so, she was having a grand adventure with her two dashing pirates. She had no desire to go back to being at her mistress’s beck and call. Ironing dresses, sewing, arranging her underthings, fetching tea and meals. Especially in boring, cold old England, no matter how nice the mistress.
“No, miss,” said Marina shyly. “I’m staying.” She had no idea what their plan was for her but while they wanted her, she was going to stay with Drake and Gregor.
Belle showed far more understanding at her announcement then Marina could have hoped. With a gentle squeeze of Marina’s hand, she said, “It is your choice. Just one thing.”
“Yes, miss, anything,” said Marina enthusiastically.
“I need your dress.”
* * *
Exhausted, Chance dragged himself down the passageway. It had been a grueling twenty-hour stretch. It was one of the worst storms he could ever remember. There were several times when he thought all was lost. There was one unexpected thing that kept prodding him on. The thought of his beautiful, little spitfire at the bottom of the sea. The idea of never hearing her voice or ducking an object she had thrown at his head again, spurred him on. He loved his ship and was dedicated to his loyal crew, but it was her eyes he saw as he clutched the helm battling back from each treacherous wave assault.
While the Fortune’s Fate had sustained a great deal of damage, he was able to get her to Tortuga. He would have preferred Port Royal but Tortuga was closer, and he didn’t want to
risk it. While both were pirate strongholds and safe landing spots where he could unload his booty and seek repairs, there was another reason why he would have preferred Port Royal.
Tortuga was a rough port filled with mostly, Dutch, British and French buccaneers. They had one thing in common. Their collective hatred of the Spanish. Even though he planned to keep her under lock and key, it made him uncomfortable to have his Belle so close to danger. His Belle?
Now after hours battling at sea and several more getting the ship into port and arranging for repairs, Chance was finally headed back to his cabin. He didn’t realize how much he was looking forward to seeing flashing blue eyes framed by thick black hair till he was greeted by brown hair with indistinct eyes.
“She’s gone,” whispered Marina, deathly afraid of his reaction. She huddled naked under the blanket having given Belle her only dress.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” he raged.
“She snuck off the ship and into port a few hours ago,” Marina fearfully whispered.
“God dammit!” stormed Chance, picking up the first object he could lay hands on, the wine bottle, and sent it shattering against the cabin wall, sending a sickly spray of blood red wine across them both.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Drake.
Marina was so happy to see him standing in the doorway, she sprang to her feet and ran naked into his arms. Drake shrugged out of his still wet oilskin coat and draped it over her shoulders, rathering she caught a slight chill then letting Chance peer at her naked form. Drake liked to share… but selectively.
Chance ran his hand through his hair, standing helplessly immobile in the middle of the cabin.
“Belle escaped,” he said in a dead monotone.
“Jesus. In Tortuga?” exclaimed Drake. His tone showing he understood as well as Chance the added danger.
Bending down to meet Marina’s frightened eyes, he buttoned the oilskin coat more firmly about her before saying, “Go back to the cabin. Wait for Gregor.”
Marina nodded, with an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Chance, she scurried out of the room.
Chance had already sprung into action. Ripping off his wet britches and shirt, he had changed into dry clothes and was already strapping on his leather brace with the five loaded pistols he kept in a locked trunk next to his bed.
“Chance,” said Drake quietly.
His close friend did not even look up but resolutely continued to strap additional ammunition to his belt.
“Chance,” Drake tried again. “You know there is very little…”
Chance raced across the cabin and grabbed his friend by the shirt, throwing his large frame back several feet. “Don’t you say it. Don’t you fucking say it,” he snarled.
“All right. All right!” said Drake, throwing up his hands in a placating gesture. “What are you going to do?”
With a sinister smile, Chance responded before heading out the door, “Our brethren are about to find out the real reason I’m called “Le Chanceux”.
* * *
Belle huddled closer to the strange woman next to her. Belle learned her name was Rowan. The pretty little redhead had been handed over to the pirates by her own village when they suspected her of witchcraft. Why she could not understand such betrayal, Belle could understand the villagers’ fear. Rowan seemed to have an unworldly look about her, as if only her body was experiencing the horrors of her situation. Her mind and soul were far away… safe. It was a fanciful notion, but Belle could not help being comforted by the woman’s strange serenity.
Trying to get warm in the cold, dank cell. The obnoxious smell was almost overpowering. As far as she could tell, some of the ten women crammed into the tiny cell had been there for over a week. It was startling to hear how their tales of being captured differed from her own.
Many were sisters and wives living in quiet seaside towns when the pirates attacked, killing their men and taking them prisoner. The women were forced to make the perilous journey to this pirate island in the belly of the ship’s hold. No light. No food. Barely enough water to keep them alive.
All were captured by the same pirate. The man they called, Heartless Hal. What was it with pirates and their pet names?
Belle miserably regretted her rash actions. In the chaos pulling into port, it was surprisingly easy to slip away. Many women of low report came tumbling onto the ship to greet the randy pirates so it was no matter to duck in with them and slip down the gangplank and into the bustling port city. It did not take her long to realize she had made a grievous mistake. Stupidly assuming that once she was free of the ship, she could appeal to a respectable gentleman or lady of the town for assistance, it never even occurred to her a pirate would only seek safe haven in a pirate town!
Garnishing way too many curious looks, she had quickly tried to find her way to a merchant’s area. Hoping that perhaps away from the docks she would find some decent people. Usually close to the merchant’s center of most towns would also be a church. She could appeal for safety to the local priest. Unfortunately, the further away from the docks she got, the worse it got. There were no shops, no respectable people, no priest… no church! Just bars and brothels. The more she searched, the more lost she became. It was not long before she decided to head back to Fortune’s Fate.
Belle shuddered to think of Chance’s wrath and what punishment he would devise, but it was far better than what she would face in this lawless town full of real pirates, alone and unprotected.
Seizing upon a forgotten shawl lying trampled in the street, Belle covered her face and hair and tried to blend in as best as possible, desperately trying to calm her racing heart, to keep the panic at bay, so she could think. In seaside towns, all side streets usually led to the water. Despite this being a pirate haven, it was still a seaside town. She would just follow the side streets and hopefully it would lead her back to Chance’s ship. It was not a great plan, but it was all she had. It was not like she could ask anyone!
Belle did not get far before a foul-smelling hand closed over her mouth, wrenching her backwards. Viciously turning her around so she faced her attacker, Belle nearly fainted from fear.
“Well, look what we have here!”
The pirate’s fetid breath hit her like a wave. He was unwashed. His ill-fitting clothes were stiff with grime and what looked like dried blood. It was his face that truly terrified her. There was a grotesque hole where his left eye should have been. The slashing pattern of scars across his cheek, pulled his face into a macabre sneer.
“Let me go,” Belle said, moving her head sideways from the stench.
“I don’t think so, my beauty. You are going to fetch a nice price.”
Belle started to struggle in earnest. The disgusting pirate clipped her under the jaw. As she slumped to the ground, her last thought before losing consciousness was how much better she preferred the way Chance called her my beauty.
* * *
She awoke later in the cell with the rest of the women. Belle touched her jaw, gingerly feeling the bruise as she huddled closer to Rowan for warmth and comfort.
There was the sound of metal scraping against metal and then the screech of the rusted cell door as it was forced open. The women all blinked against the sudden shaft of bright light in the dark room.
“Get up, whores!” said another disturbing looking pirate. This one was missing most of his teeth. His skin was so dirty and weather-beaten it was dark brown. “I said get up!” he shouted as he kicked one of the prone women.
Slowly the women got to their feet and filed out of the cell.
“Time for the auction,” the pirate jeered.
* * *
Chance rubbed the bruised and bloodied knuckles on his right hand. Looking at the even more bruised and bloodied man at his feet, he said, “I am so glad you have agreed to cooperate. I would have hated for this to get unpleasant.”
The man spit out a tooth before replying, “Heartless Hal has your bird. Pu
tting her up for auction today with all the other whores he collected from his last trip up the coast.”
“Where?” Chance asked through clenched teeth. The man didn’t respond soon enough. Fortunately, a swift kick to his midsection elicited a prompt response.
“The south pier,” groaned the man.
Chance leaned down on his haunches and looked intently at the man. “Do I need to tell you to keep your mouth shut about this?”
“No you do not,” whimpered the man before crawling away.
Chance struggled to keep a tight rein on his fury and, truthfully, his fear. In his world, there was a hierarchy just like in any other society. There were pirates like himself. Generally educated, ruthless only when necessary and in it purely for the adventure and coin. Gentlemen pirates as they were called.
Then there were the dregs. The low-life pirates who thrilled at being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Dirty scum who gave pirates a bad name. Below them, there was Heartless Hal.
A disgusting coward who didn’t earn his treasure the honest way by attacking a ship, but rather with marauding. He attacked quiet seaside villages, killed the men and took the women captive. There was rarely any coin to be found in these hand-to-mouth havens, so he makes his money by selling the women off at his infamous auctions.
Chance had never been to one, finding the whole enterprise distasteful. It was one thing to enjoy a female captive who happened to fall into your lap after a raid. It was another to drag them out of their homes and sell them for sex slaves.
And now this cruel, cowardly scum had Belle.
Chapter Nine
Her White Knight
The women were pushed and shoved out of their underground prison into the blinding light and fresh salt air. Repeatedly poking their guns into the women’s ribs, the awful pirates herded them into a straight line, marching them down to the sea.
Belle strained her neck, trying to get a glimpse of Fortune’s Fate from where she was standing. It was no good. There were too many ships. She quickly scanned the crowd of unwashed, rough pirates, knowing Chance would stand out among such rabble. He was not there. Belle felt a wave of despair and lost hope.
