Sophia’s hand crept over the lid of the pot she clutched. She’d probably gone too far, but she had a point to make. “My mother and my two charges are aboard the Lady Constance. So help me God, if you lay a hand on them—”
“Why would I do that?” The pirate stood close enough now that the smoke from his fuses wafted toward her like clutching phantom fingers. “From what I’ve seen, the two lasses and their chaperone won’t supply me half the sport I require. Can you handle all I’ve got?”
“She’s not part of the bargain!” Damon spouted as he grabbed the brigand’s frock coat. “So you can just—”
Blackbeard swatted him off as if he were a pesky gnat. “I strike my own bargains, Delacroix. I see what I want, and I intend to have her!”
Sofia’s heart thudded, and she took a step back, her eyes still riveted to Blackbeard’s. If she glanced at his fly, he’d have those few precious seconds to take further advantage—not that she needed to see how his erection tented the front of his pants. Edward Teach was every inch the debaucher legend had set him up to be, and much of his magnetism lived in his frightening yet hypnotic eyes.
“What’ll it be, Sofia?” Blackbeard’s voice coiled around her like a cobra. “Shall I plunder you? Or commandeer all three of these fine ships as my prize? I already know what you want, vixen. I smell your heat.”
So this dandy fancied himself her lover, did he? Sofia braced herself; dared herself to follow through on her original plan. “Would you like a better whiff?” she teased in a low voice. “Come and get it!”
When Blackbeard laughed lustily and grabbed for her, Sofia tossed the potful of salmagundi in his face. She broke away, toward other pots and pitchers she’d stashed around the deck.
“Grab those buckets!” she hollered at the sailors who’d been watching cautiously. She pelted Blackbeard with hard tack biscuits, and the men took up her cause with a rowdy vengeance.
“No! No, this is not—”
But Damon’s cry got drowned out by a maniacal howl. A very wet, smelly Edward Teach clamped his arms around Sophia’s waist and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He wiped his face against her hip, muttering. The burly pirate batted away the men who came to her aid while stomping across the drenched, biscuit-littered deck. Sofia struggled and kicked, but all she heard in return was his mean laughter.
“You’ll pay for this, feist!” he vowed as he wrapped his ship’s rope around them. He scowled at Damon and the others who reached up to grab him. “If you expect me to agree to any damn deals, Delacroix, proceed to New Providence ahead of me. We’ll see how willing I am to bargain after I settle my score with this bitch!”
Blackbeard launched them across the waves that churned between the two ships. As Sofia flew past the Lady Constance, she caught sight of the Havisham girls: Daphne, whose face blanched in terror, and Trix, who looked absolutely flabbergasted—and downright delighted with this spectacle.
There stood Mama, too. Her exasperated expression told Sofia she’d gone a bit overboard with the salmagundi and biscuits.
But hadn’t she distracted Blackbeard away from them? Hadn’t she bought Damon and Morgan O’Roark time to strategize a plan? Captain Delacroix and Lord Havisham still had their ships intact, too, and perhaps she could convince her new captor to leave them that way, to allow the girls and their dowries to sail for New York while she served as the marauding pirate’s prize.
It was a noble gesture on her part—until Blackbeard landed on the deck of his Queen Anne’s Revenge. “I’ve brought us back a nice ripe tart, laddies! But I’ll be sharing none of her until I’ve gotten my fill!” he crowed above his men’s exclamations. “You, Bensen! Take a handful of your randiest men aboard the Lady Constance. Inventory the hold and then bring back the two lasses and their abigail.”
“Aye, sir!”
Sofia squawked and kicked. “They’ll give you nothing but trouble! Leave them—”
“I don’t humor women, missy,” he replied gruffly. “Pipe down or I’ll spread you right here on the deck while the men watch. And then they’ll take their turns!”
Keeping his arm clamped tightly around her, the pirate captain hailed more of his men. “Hurley! McGalliger! Station crewmen aboard Delacroix’s three ships to be sure they take the direct route to New Providence. On with it, now! We divide the spoils tonight when we arrive at the island!”
“That was not what you said aboard the Courtesan—”
Blackbeard set her feet on the deck so hard pain shot up through her ankles. “Before you threw that slop in my face, I was inclined to be lenient,” he muttered. “Now, however, you’ll wash me and my clothes, and you’ll heed the ‘guidance’ I give you about proper behavior in the presence of a gentleman. Your mother must be appalled at all this—and she hasn’t seen the half of it! Now, scoot!”
He shoved her forward. Sofia staggered to the stairs leading to the captain’s quarters beneath the ship’s bow, wondering what he had in mind. Poor Mama. By now Daphne would’ve passed out in a fit of the vapors while Beatrix was probably displaying her charms to best advantage, flirting with whichever pirate had captured her.
And once again, all this has happened because you abandoned your post to follow your own impulsive urges. The last thing Sofia saw before she went below were pirates pirouetting in their ropes, hurling themselves over to Lord Havisham’s ship with swords drawn and bloodthirsty cries.
“Cantrell!” Blackbeard called out. “Bring hot water to fill my tub!”
“Aye, sir!”
The moment she stepped inside Blackbeard’s quarters, Sofia realized what she’d forfeited by tossing that soup on him: the furniture here had barely survived many a drunken brawl, and it wasn’t so much arranged as strewn about the low-ceilinged room. What a dark, dingy cave this was. The man who occupied it seemed a Neanderthal, indeed, compared to Damon Delacroix.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs behind them. Cantrell and two other snaggletoothed sailors dumped buckets of steaming water into a trough near the cabin’s only window. They eyed her with lewd curiosity before hurrying back to the galley for more water.
Blackbeard leered. He sloshed liquor from a bottle into a tankard and then tugged on the two fuses that still smoldered in his hair. They made an infernal hissssss when he dunked them. “We’ll be removing these offensive garments now,” he informed her as he slipped his pistols from their silken holsters. “Make yourself useful.”
Sofia’s insides clenched. While Edward Teach exuded an impressive presence with his height and those fancy clothes—not to mention that beastly wreath of black, braided hair—the pirate was no prize up close. He smelled of an unwashed body and harsh cigars. And then there were those wild, maniacal eyes that never stopped moving yet always remained focused on her. Little chunks of Comstock’s stew clung to his braids and clothing, which did nothing to improve her opinion of him.
“Undress me! Now!” He stooped to bring those cold, shiny eyes to the same level as hers. “Don’t tell me you’re an innocent, Sofia! I’ve fucked and forgotten more whores like you than Delacroix will meet in three lifetimes!”
Such a remark was hardly a compliment to either of them, and it made her regret her brazen stupidity even more. Would Damon want her after Blackbeard left his mark? She’d had half a chance to convince Captain Delacroix he should keep her rather than sell her, but his expression had looked less than encouraging as she had sailed away on Blackbeard’s shoulder.
“What were you doing aboard the Courtesan?” Teach grabbed her hands and placed them on the buttons of his smelly, saturated coat. “Delacroix knows better than to flaunt the likes of you in front of his men.”
How should she answer that? No matter what she said, he’d twist it to his own advantage like a knife in her back.
“I’m his intended—his talisman!” she blurted. “Contrary to superstition, I’ve brought him great fortune and joy. He—he named his ship for me!”
“He keeps a court
esan aboard as a charm?” Blackbeard’s lip curled in derision, and then he grabbed the vee of her neckline in both his powerful hands. “Seems Captain Delacroix’s luck has just run out.”
16
W hat the bloody hell went wrong? And so damn fast!
Damon stood fuming at the stern of the Courtesan, watching Blackbeard’s ship swing into position behind the three vessels in his command. Like a trio of square-rigged sheep, they sailed ahead of the wolf who herded them into his lair. All because Sofia had taken charge before he could discuss his plan for Edward Teach to share their booty.
So now Quentin Thomas and the other two quartermasters steered toward New Providence while Blackbeard’s minions held them at gunpoint. Other pirates from Blackbeard’s ship patrolled the decks to keep the captive captains from signaling one another.
“Shoulda opened fire on ’em whilst we had the chance,” Jonas Comstock muttered beside Delacroix. “Damn bastard’s gonna do things his way, no matter what he’s said.”
“I was ready to attack! Full cannon fire!” Damon raised his spyglass to peer toward the Queen Anne’s Revenge. “But I’d likely have hit the Havisham girls or Mrs. Martine. Or Sofia.”
“No loss there, cap’n. She’s been nothin’ but trouble since—”
Delacroix sucked in his breath. Teach’s quarters were beneath the fore, directly in front of him now. Through his lens, Damon peered into the captain’s sanctum…saw Blackbeard rip the uniform from Sofia’s body in one vengeful, bloodlusty move. No doubt she was egging him on again, playing her sultry games because she’d caught the fancy of the most notorious—
Then he saw her face.
Regret. Remorse. Sheer terror. Those were not the eyes of a temptress at play as the dull, careworn clothing fell from her body. She shrank away from her captor, trembling. Pleading for mercy.
Deep down, Sofia Martine was not the vixen she made herself out to be. It occurred to him then, dammit, that she’d thrown that salmagundi and those biscuits as distractions…to attract Blackbeard’s attention away from him, so he could prepare to fight, if need be. She was concerned for her mother’s safety, saying the Havisham sisters were troublesome—anything to keep the pirate from believing he wanted them.
But once the bastard saw Sofia, it was all over. Two ears with a cock on the rise between them. Teach had described himself perfectly, and as his frock coat came off and he ordered Sofia to strip him naked, that cock sprang out like the devil’s pitchfork, deep red and ready.
Damon grabbed his pistol and shot at Blackbeard’s window. Any fool knew it was too long a distance—just a way to relieve his frustration….
“What the devil’re you doin’? You’re daft if ya think—”
The glass shattered with a gratifying tinkle. But when Blackbeard swore and glared out the high window of his quarters, Damon knew he’d made a grave mistake. Sofia pitched forward into her captor’s naked embrace.
The rivulets of red trickling down her back made the bottom fall from Damon’s stomach. An apology sprang to mind, but before it reached his lips Comstock gasped and slumped to the deck beside him. Then a pistol butt met Damon’s skull, and he blacked out, as well.
“God dammit to hell, when I get my hands on that bastard Delacroix…Cantrell!” Blackbeard roared. “Help me, you son of a—bring her mother! I know damn well you’re at the keyhole.”
Sofia bit back a snicker. She remained utterly still, dead weight in the arms of the man who’d vowed to ravage her before—and after—his bath. Her shoulder stung, and she felt the trickle of warm, sticky blood, but Damon had shot out the window! He’d been watching over her, even after Blackbeard commandeered his three ships! He’d saved her from being brutalized, and she would—well, she’d love him forever for it.
Hurried footsteps…the sound of a struggle…and then a pitiful cry came through the doorway. “Sofia! What have you done to my—she’s bleeding!”
“Not my fault, dammit!” Blackbeard snarled. “Put her on the cot while I go after the bastard who shot her!”
Sofia remained limp and boneless as Cantrell carried her across the room, muttering. Her breath rushed from her lungs when he dropped her on a hard canvas surface, but somehow she made him believe she was out cold. Soon to be further gone.
“Hot water’s in the tub,” Blackbeard growled from across the room. “And you’re not to stare, dammit, while I change clothes. This is all your harlot daughter’s fault!”
Mama hovered over her, whimpering softly, scared out of her mind about what Teach might do next. Sofia longed to hug her mother close and whisper reassurances, but for the moment her endangered state was her best weapon.
When boots clomped across the room and up the stairs, Mama let loose. “Sofia! Sofia, tell me you’re not—”
“I’m fine, Mama, but keep wailing! Make everyone believe I’m not long for this world.”
Two warm, trembling hands clasped her face. “You’re talking!” she whispered.
Sofia opened her eyes, focused on Mama’s strained face, and then winked. “Takes more than death to shut me up!” she quipped. “Damon’s shot just grazed the skin. Use my shift for a bandage—”
“Shhh! Footsteps!”
Sofia went limp again and shut her eyes. Lord, but that wound was starting to throb! Yet she could subdue the pain by peering through the slit of one eye…to see that Cantrell had returned.
“I don’t need your—don’t you touch her!” her mother huffed. She was ripping the muslin shift into long strips, standing between the sailor and the cot, bristling like a rabid mongrel. “Go find someone to help you carry this cot to wherever you’ve hidden the Havisham sisters! I will watch over my girls! I’m a witch, mind you, so don’t think you’ll defy me!”
Sofia bit her lip to keep from laughing at the yellow-toothed pirate’s dismay. When he trotted off, she opened her eyes again. “A witch, Mama? Why, if I had called you that, you’d—”
“Enough out of you, too, Sofia. Brace yourself for the sting of this whiskey.”
Mama grabbed a decanter from Blackbeard’s shabby shelf and tipped it. Liquid fire singed the wound on Sofia’s shoulder, and she sucked air. It was sweet relief, however, to feel her mother’s loving hands wiping the blood from her back…the pressure of her fingers stanching the flow…the quick competence with which she wrapped the strips of muslin tightly around the top of her arm.
“I’m going to cover you,” Mama announced stiffly. “Why you’ve chosen to play with fire—and these pirates—is beyond me, but—”
“Mama.” Sofia gritted her teeth against the pain when she shot out her arm, but she gripped her mother’s wrist anyway. “Mama, I did a stupid, selfish thing, leaving you to watch over Daphne and Trix. I’m so sorry—”
“Shhh, they’re coming again,” her mother replied with a weary smile. “I was peeved about it at first, but when I realized you’d written me a ticket to America—that I wouldn’t be losing you at Constance Havisham’s whim—I adjusted myself to the circumstances. Even if Daphne is a royal pain in the arse with all her puking and passing out.”
Sofia muffled her giggle against the smelly cot and closed her eyes again. Cantrell had returned with a cohort. Mama tucked the torn uniform around her bare body and warned the two men again that she was a witch ready to hex them if they touched her daughter.
She felt herself being lifted, trundled off to God knew where.
Anywhere but here, she mused as a pall of pain settled over her. Thank you, Mama, for loving me in spite of all this.
17
A s they floated toward the harbor of New Providence at dusk, the island held no excitement for Damon; his head throbbed like a son of a bitch, and a knot had risen on it. As he looked toward the torch-lit streets teeming with gaudily dressed strumpets and the drunken sailors who chased after them, his usual sense of anticipation dimmed.
He’d shot Sofia. That much he recalled, although the balance of the journey remained a blur. He gripped the railing
to keep himself upright as his men heaved the huge anchor overboard, lacking their usual enthusiasm, too. Blackbeard’s sailors had kept close watch since he’d fired his pistol, and he couldn’t predict what the mighty pirate might demand of them now that his pretty new playmate had been injured.
Why had he made such a stupid move? He’d endangered all of his crews, not to mention the Havisham girls and their dowries, with that spur-of-the-moment shot. By all rights, it shouldn’t have hit the window, much less Sofia.
You were defending her from that brute Blackbeard. Any decent man would’ve done the same.
Small consolation, that.
You wanted her safe, and you’ll never forgive yourself for not shooting the bastard when he first grabbed her.
Damon blinked. His heart raced crazily, and he searched the decks of the Queen Anne’s Revenge for signs of her. At least he hadn’t seen any bodies being slipped overboard—
But he’d been out cold. What if that heartless monster had dumped Sofia into the sea without giving Damon one last look at her lovely…
Is she dead or alive?
A sob caught him by surprise, and he glanced around to be sure no one else had heard it. His men were scurrying up to the yardarms like monkeys, securing the sails while Blackbeard’s watchdogs looked on. He saw Captain Cavendish pacing the deck of the Lady Constance on one side of him, while Morgan O’Roark held an animated discussion with the brigands who’d taken over the Odalisque.
No, this was not their usual jovial landing at New Providence. It felt anything but providential.
“Delacroix! Bring your partner before I turn my sailors loose in your holds.”
Blackbeard stood on the pier glaring up at him, his legs spread at a cocky angle, and his hands clasped behind his broad back. He’d changed his clothes, but those six flintlocks still rode prominently in fresh silken sashes.
Pleasure of His Bed Page 9
