Capturing The Captain (American Pirate Romances Book 1)

by C. K. Brooke

  Up on the deck, the dock below was a stretch of ink beneath starlight. All that could be heard were the black waters lapping at the hulls of various surrounding ships. Abi’s tunic fluttered loosely at her waist. She turned to face the wind, closing her eyes as a heady breeze blew back her hair.

  The young woman surveyed the empty port. How remarkable would it be if cities were always like this, quiet and dormant, and she was free to roam about as she pleased. It was tempting to leave the ship, but she wasn’t daft. She had already run into enough danger for one evening.

  In the corner of her eye, she thought she detected movement. Curious, she turned. There was nothing…at first. But when it happened again, she squinted down at the dock. Someone was there, aimlessly pacing. She backed away from the rail, her heart giving a tiny lollop. She really ought to go back downstairs. Best not to be seen. However…

  She tiptoed to the edge again. There was something recognizable about the shadow’s smooth stride, his unabashed bulk, the moonlight on his scalp.

  “James?” Abi whispered down.

  The figure startled, and glanced up. “Abigail?” His low voice carried to her, sounding equally surprised.

  She bit back a smile. “Having a midnight stroll, are you?”

  She heard the grin in his response. “I was wondering which ship was yours.” He added something more, but the murmur was too quiet for her to hear.

  Abi cupped a hand over her ear. “Pardon?” she whispered.

  “I said…never mind. You oughtta get yer rest. G’night, Abi.” He lifted a hand.

  “Wait.” Abi’s breaths were short. After the following day, she knew not when she would see him again. It could be months. She didn’t think she could wait any longer for another taste of him, another feel of his solid arms about her.

  Thinking quickly, she ran to the pile of knotted climbing rope and tied an end securely around the rail. The other end, she tossed down. It swung over the side of the ship, the bottom landing waist-level with James.

  “What’re you doin’?”

  She made a beckoning motion.

  “Yer mad.” He frowned up at her. “What if we’re caught?”

  Abi was feeling daring, more than ever before. She had always lived her life on someone else’s terms. But that night felt different. She had an opportunity and she wasn’t going to waste it. She would do what she wanted. “Let them catch us,” she said.

  At first, it didn’t appear that he would give in. But to her delight, James took hold of the rope. Abi was impatient as he climbed, her body permeating with a special heat reserved only for him. He lifted his weight over the edge and landed on his boots with enough force to rock the whole ship. Abi shushed him, stifling her laughter.

  The man grinned and gathered her in his arms. His skin was hot enough to melt her. Abi tilted back her neck, circling his lips with her tongue. The space between her legs issued an involuntary throb of excitement to feel him stiffening so promptly against her.

  Without a word, she took his hand and tried to pull him toward the companionway. But his feet remained rooted to the floor.

  Abi pressed into him again, sliding her hand down his thigh. He moaned softly against her cheek as she massaged the rigid knob over his breeches. “Come to my cabin,” she breathed at his ear. “You’ve had me in your bed; now I want you in mine.”

  She shivered as he grasped a handful of her backside. “Well, then. There’s an invitation I can’t refuse.”

  Abi led him down the steps, her heart smacking. The crew, she knew, would sleep—they’d been drinking and brawling that evening, after all. She wasn’t as confident about her father. But she couldn’t bring herself to care just then. She wanted James, and she wanted him now.

  They slipped into her cabin. James assumed the foot of her cot as she shut and latched the door. “Too dark,” he complained under his breath. “How am I supposed to see you?”

  Abi turned. She crept up to him, and lowered herself sensually into his lap. Her body immediately moistened, ready to receive him. “I guess you’ll have to feel your way.” She grinned.

  ***

  It wasn’t yet sunup. Thank God.

  But it was awfully close.

  “Jim,” Abi whispered urgently. She leaned over him, her breasts dangling above his chest. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Apparently, they had made each other too content.

  He stirred beneath her. After a bleary pause, he swore, sitting up.

  “Hurry,” Abi told him.

  The man stood, hastening to gather his clothing from the floor. “The rope,” he muttered. “Is it still there?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled his shirt overhead. She was sorry to see him do so. “Be sure to remove it, soon as I’m gone.”

  “Of course.”

  Breathless, he knelt beside the cot. Taking the back of Abi’s head, he pulled her in for a gruff kiss. His mouth burned and tasted of the pleasure they had shared through the night. Abi savored it, praying it wouldn’t be their last.

  Without another word, he saw himself through the door. Abi was left in her cot, the blankets still warm from his presence. She held her breath in the blackness, listening to ensure there were no voices, no confrontation as James made his escape.

  The minutes passed. Thankfully, she heard nothing. When she deemed it safe, she dressed and went upstairs. The sky was a shade lighter, anticipating the oncoming sun. Her father would be headed to port to meet James any moment.

  It was already deathly warm. Her hands sweat as she yanked the rope, stretch after stretch, from the side of the ship. She heard slow, heavy footsteps ascending up the companionway. Abi worked faster, her fingers fumbling to undo the knot at the rail. When at last, she had untied the rope and dropped it into a coil on the floor, footfalls landed on deck.

  Abi stepped away, prepared to greet whomever it was.

  It was only Bones. He scratched the back of his head wearily. “Trouble sleepin’, Abi?” he greeted her in his low voice.

  Abi hid her chafed hands behind her back. Her pulse thrummed nervously. Did the statement have another meaning? Could he have possibly seen, or heard, anything…?

  But the brown-skinned man only yawned. “I suppose it’s nearly time.”

  “You had better go and wake my father,” Abi told him. “I didn’t hear him stirring. This is a transaction best done in the dark, before the port begins to fill.”

  “Right.” He turned back down the steps again, and Abi’s breathing relaxed. She took heart knowing she would see James once more that morning. Yet then, after that was anyone’s guess.

  When her father and the crew were ready, Abi disembarked among them. In the center of the convoy, six men carried the treasure between them, two to a trunk. Abi kept her head down, hoping her father wouldn’t change his mind at the last moment. She still could hardly believe that she and James had succeeded in convincing him to part with his precious gold.

  Shadowed images and unspeakable sensations from earlier in the night were imprinted on her mind as she walked. Her thoughts continuously drifted to James, the heat of his mouth, his calloused hands on her flesh. It was strange how utterly satisfied and complete he could leave her…and yet she yearned for so much more. She would be tenacious, holding onto the hope that she would have him every night, be his each day—and soon. There could be a future for both of them, if she believed it strongly enough.

  The air was congested with fog as they paced up the port. Ahead of them, Abi could make out a second group coming their way. As they stepped into view, she recognized each of them—Mr. Calahad, DuPont, Shellig, and the others, flanking James. The captain was fully dressed, wearing a hat and waistcoat. Abi tried to meet his eyes, but he was focused on her father.

  No one spoke. Even the captains exchanged no words as their processions came to a halt, eying each other.

  At last, James extended a hand, holding out a simple, folded leaf of parchment. Captain Clear snatched it. Giving his younger
rival a suspicious glare, he unfolded the paper. His brow came together as he read.

  Captain Clear pursed his lips and refolded it. His gaze matched James’s, and he nodded staunchly.

  Misters Hilaire and Pippin from The Indomitable came forth. Together, they examined the three trunks, lifting each lid just enough for their eyes alone to see. After a tense moment, they looked up at their captain.

  James inclined his chin. Four more of his crew stepped apart from the rest to approach the trunk bearers.

  The Succubus’s crew stared them down, a heavy warning in their eyes. Abi knew their silent threat, that if the coordinates were a farce, and if James and his men didn’t do exactly what he said they would with the gold, then her father would have his vengeance, without mercy.

  Just when Abi thought the crew of The Indomitable would have to pry her crew’s fingers from the trunk handles, and another battle might very well bloody up the sleepy port, her father’s men released them. Now in custody of the treasure, James’s crew receded quickly up the dock to conceal the loot aboard their ship.

  The two captains exchanged final nods. Abi nudged her way past Rags to find her place beside her father. The movement captured James’s attention, and at last, he regarded her. A trace smirk shadowed his mouth, just at the corner. She was certain she was the only one to notice. In his eyes, she read a thousand promises, emotions, and memories. And then, he lifted a hand, and gave her a brief salute. An infatuated grin spread across Abi’s lips.

  As soon as the gesture was complete, James Morrow turned and departed among his men. Abi stood at her father’s side, watching the back of James’s coat disappear through the dawn fog.

  She remained with her father at port for some time, even after the crew dispersed for the morning, while foreign sailors returned to their vessels beneath the lightening sky. They turned their necks to view an unmistakable man-o’-war drifting away on the first winds, headed northwest to the Kingdom.

  “Well, Abi.” Captain Clear squinted out to the Bay. “Do you think he’ll come back for you?”

  Her reply was sober with conviction. “No, Papa.” Abi stared after the ship sailing opposite the sunrise. “I know he will.”

  Chapter 22

  The Bay of Biscay

  Autumn, 1720

  With a tremendous splash, the great gray diving bell submerged again. Abi watched the Bay’s surface bubble as its massive shadow slowly descended. Meanwhile those on deck, who had recently emerged, smashed down their mugs and danced in the shards.

  With trembling hands, the pirate Wally gripped Captain Clear by the cloak, positively beside himself. “Cap, there was ten—twen’y times as much down there as what Dagger Jim took back! Money boxes bursting with pieces of eight!”

  “You made a right excellent trade there, sir,” Hector exclaimed.

  Abi stepped over the puddles on deck, and waved to those aboard the neighboring vessel anchored nearby. Her father’s trusty connections possessed a rare diving bell. They had loaned him use of the instrument for excavating the sunken cargo, upon the agreement that Captain Clear might share his findings, should he uncover anything.

  And uncovered it, he had.

  Her father was ruddy in the face, shaking hands with more of the crew. “See?” Abi called over to him, grinning. “I told you we could trust him.”

  Leaving the men to their revelry, Abi walked by her lonesome to portside. Though she was delighted for her father—and not to mention, for Jim’s honesty—she was still anxiously waiting. That day marked the seventh week since they had first arrived at Bilbao.

  She inhaled. The October air was growing chillier, the bay waters sometimes choppy. It appeared they would be spending the winter abroad. Though specifically where, she knew not. She was only aware that it wouldn’t be wise to attempt to return to the vicinity of the Colonies until the springtime, at that point.

  With a sigh, she studied the horizon for the millionth time. Today, she thought she saw a bird. Cupping her hand against the sun’s glare, however, she realized there was no bird. Rather, the shadow of an oncoming ship. It sailed south, toward them, propelled by the autumn breezes.

  Abi watched it for a long while. Even when the diving bell came back up again, and this time the divers cradled all the riches they could carry with them, she hardly spared them her attention. Ships crossed the Bay of Biscay all the time, she tried to remind herself. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. After all, what was the likelihood that this one was…?

  Though still a distance apart, the shadow now drifted near enough for Abi to discern its size and type, and the shape of its wind-swollen masts.

  Her breaths thinned for joy. Hair billowing behind her, Abi held onto the rails, awaiting its glorious return.

  Epilogue

  Her hands rolled methodically through the bucket of cool water. Over the hearth on the far wall, the cauldron bubbled, giving off the aroma of onions and thyme. Abigail Morrow lifted the dripping saucer from the soapy bucket and blotted it dry on her apron. Carefully, she placed the clay plate down upon the table, mindful not to make a sound.

  As they often did, her eyes wandered over to the little window. The shutters were open that time of year, allowing her an inspiring and peaceful view. She took in the fertile, moist hills of verdant green and the craggy sea yonder with as much awe as when she had first arrived to the stony little cottage. Back then, it had taken some moons to grow accustomed to living on land. But the sea was only a stroll away, and she could go out on the fishing boat any time she liked, should she wish to feel the nostalgic lull and sway of waves beneath her.

  She would admit, some days she missed the open Atlantic, the accents and busyness of the Colonies, and especially her papa. Often she wondered where he’d settled, and if he was enjoying all the wealth he’d accumulated from his sunken findings. But most days, Abi was too busy—and too fulfilled—to mourn much for the past.

  Behind her, the door gave a groan. Weighty, squelching steps plodded over the stone floors, then abruptly stopped. She took this to mean the man had remembered her request to remove his muddy boots. Dutifully, she kept to her bucket.

  Her body tingled when she felt the heat of his presence approach her, and a large paw settled upon her shoulder. Looking up, she found the face of her husband. She placed a finger over her lips, indicating the little one asleep in the bassinet beside her.

  James stooped down to give Abi’s cheek a gentle peck. He reeked of the fish he’d been out catching and selling, but his wife didn’t mind. It was the smell of home. Brown eyes imbibing her warmly, the man slid a hand down her back, and brought it to rest over the prominent bulge in her belly. He rubbed her loose-fitting cotton frock, giving the back of her neck a soft nip with his mouth.

  Abi grinned to herself, listening to his receding footfalls as he ambled to the basin to wash up.

  THE END

  Historical Note

  The Golden Age of Piracy occurred between the 1650s and 1730s. While most pirate-themed tales spotlight the swashbuckling marauders of Europe and Great Britain and their exploits in the Caribbean, Colonial American pirates also prowled the seas. Some of these included Edward Coates and Rachel Wall, the latter thought to be the first American-born female pirate. There were also Colonial privateers, though the line between pirate and privateer often became hazy.

  The island of Monhegan is part of Maine today, twelve nautical miles off of the coast. It was captured and burned down by France’s Baron de Saint-Castin in 1689, during King William’s War. The abandoned isle was indeed visited by pirate ships in 1717.

  Captain James Morrow, though a fictional character of my invention, would have hailed from the Kingdom of Scotland, which was unified with England to form the Kingdom of Great Britain in 1707, thirteen years prior to the setting of this book. I described him as tattooed because my imagination deemed it enticing, and it felt appropriate to feed a reader’s modern expectations of a pirate’s appearance. However, tattoos did not come
into common practice among sailors and pirates until after Captain James Cook’s voyage to New Zealand and Polynesia, in 1771.

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  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank everyone at Limitless who made the publication of this book possible, especially Hokunani, Jessica Gunhammer, Jennifer O’Neill, and my editor, Lori Whitwam. Many thanks as well to ThePirateKing.com’s vital diagram of the man-o’-war ship and ThePiratesTreasure.com’s glossary.

  About the Author

  C.K. Brooke grew up in the coastal state of Maryland. She began writing books when she was six years old. In her teens and twenties, she traveled the world to Europe, the U.K. and the Caribbean and lived in five different U.S. states, which ignited her passion for writing about romantic journeys and swashbuckling adventures. Her debut novel, The Duchess Quest (48fourteen, October 2014), received a five-star editorial review from Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews & Awards Contest and was selected as a Shelf Unbound Top 100 Notable Indie Book of 2015.

  Since its publication, she has authored numerous fantasy, romance and women’s adventure titles, including: The Duchess Inheritance (48fourteen, April 2015); Fool Moon: A Novella (Elphame Press, June 2015); The Red Pearl (48fourteen, November 2015), Secrets of Artemis: A Teen Goddess Novel (Elphame Press, December 2015), Heiress Heist (February 2016), and The Wrong Prince (48fourteen, TBR 2016). She is delighted beyond words to join the Limitless team as the author of Capturing the Captain and the American Pirate Romance series.