Pirate In My Arms

by Danelle Harmon

  He tapped his fingers against the arm of the settle and stared up at the beams above his head in frustration. “Yes, especially not me.” Springing to his feet, he began to pace the little room like a caged animal. “I’m poison, aren’t I? Ravisher of young innocents, stealer of maidenly virtues. A wolf among little lambs.” He stopped and spun around. “Damn them for a pack of hypocrites! Should I be tried and condemned because I find you beautiful? Is my blackened blood the only kind that runs hot at the sight of a pretty woman? Am I so damned evil that I’m to be condemned for having feelings that are quite bloody normal?” He stalked to the window and stood leaning against the sill, jaw set in anger, eyes hard. He felt her eyes upon his back and knew that his anger—justified though it was—was probably frightening the blazes out of her. He took a deep breath. It had taken a full week of hard work to win her trust, to convince her that he wasn’t the disreputable rogue the townsfolk still believed him to be. He had to control his anger.

  “Maria, I’m sorry.”

  She had come up behind him, her eyes huge. Uncertain. Reining in his temper, Sam gently grasped her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes.

  “I have something to ask ye,” he said gruffly.

  “Sam, I—”

  He put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “No, hear me out, Maria. I’ve put up with this nonsense long enough. No more sneaking around. No more hiding. You deserve to be courted like the beautiful woman you are.” He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to hold his gaze when she would have looked away. “Now, when do you suppose she’ll be back?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Fine. I’ll just wait here until she returns.”

  “She’s not going to allow it,” she said in a tone that was flat, sad, and devoid of spirit. “You can talk to her all you want, beg her even, but she’ll refuse you. I know her, Sam. She’s—”

  “I will placate her.”

  “My aunt cannot be placated! It would be best if you said nothing at all. She’s just going to refuse you, and then she’ll be so suspicious of me that she won’t let me out of her sight and if that happens we’ll never be able to see each other! Let’s just continue as we have been. I don’t need to be courted. I don’t mind if she doesn’t know—”

  “I do,” he bit out.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why does it matter so much?”

  The words were out before he even realized he’d said them. “Because I want to marry you, lass, and I intend to.”

  And after they were out, he didn’t regret them a bit. It felt as though a great weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

  “Marry—”

  “Aye, marry.” He folded her hands in his own and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. Her eyes had filled and now brimmed with what he hoped were tears of happiness, not dismay. He held her gaze. “And it wouldn’t do to have one’s future husband sneaking under the table like a puppy after the crumbs now, would it?”

  She looked down, her throat working.

  “Maria?”

  “I… I cannot marry you, Sam.”

  He stared at her, frowning.

  She would not meet his eyes. “I know you’re only offering marriage to make up for—for what happened on the night we met, to give me your name in case a babe was made. I have come to love you in this past week, and I’ve no shame in admitting it. But I won’t burden you with a wife you don’t want. A wife you didn’t come here to find, a wife you may forget the moment you left.”

  His brow darkened.

  “Besides, Auntie would never permit it. And you could do so much better with someone else, someone more like you. Someone who’s smart, and brave, someone who…who deserves you.”

  “Maria,” he ground out, trying to contain his frustration. “Remember that night after we made love under the apple tree?” She blushed and averted her eyes. “Don’t turn your face away. You told me that your…friend…said that one kiss would make me fall in love with you. And you believed her.”

  “I was a fool,” she whispered.

  “Nay, not a fool, Maria. Did you ever stop and think that maybe ’tis true?”

  “No. She lied to me, you said so yourself.”

  “Perhaps. But then again, maybe not.”

  “Are you saying—”

  “That I love you?” He grinned. “A beastly thought, isn’t it? To have caught the eye of the worst rogue to ever sail into Eastham. A wicked sinner, a rascally dog. Poor, poor Maria. How much happier she’d be if she settled down with one of the local milksops. Good God, to think her strapped with a godless fiend, a—”

  “Stop it, Sam,” she said, unable to prevent herself from smiling at his light, teasing tone.

  “Ah, life would be terrible with me, wouldn’t it? Yes, I love you. At least if these god-awful symptoms indicate that particular sickness, then I’m infected. Sleepless nights. Thoughts of nothing and nobody but you. Picking flowers. Can you imagine? Me? Picking flowers? God’s teeth, I thought the day would never come.”

  And as he dropped into the settle once more and leaned his head against its high back, it was all he could do not to sigh in relief. He let his eyes drift shut in contentment, for now he knew what had been eating at him for the past few days. He loved her. ’Twas the truth, plain and simple. To hell with courting. He’d just marry her and be done with it!

  Her soft, melodious voice was one he could listen to all day, one he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” she was saying. “Auntie’s going to be angry enough about finding you here. Don’t make her more so by falling asleep.”

  “I have no intention of falling asleep.”

  He opened one eye to wink at her, then let it fall shut again, and Maria, still stunned by his offer, could do nothing but stare at him. Even seated, he seemed to fill the room. He was charismatic, he was magnificent, he was magnetic. And handsome, with his hair drying in gleaming black waves against broad, powerful shoulders. How wide his chest was, rising and falling steadily with his breathing. How long his legs were, stretched toward the fire, and how boyish he looked, vulnerable even, with his eyes closed and his lashes lying upon his swarthy cheeks.

  Suddenly, Maria wanted to get up, walk over to him, and touch those lashes, just to see what they felt like. She wanted to comb the thick waves of his hair with her fingers, to smooth the tiny crow’s feet that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled, to sit beside him and once more touch her lips to his, to feel those strong arms, now in careless repose, wrap themselves around her body and crush her to him until her breasts lay pressed against his wide, hard chest, to—

  The latch rattled and the door swung open. Aunt Helen swept into the room, her hair already working itself loose from beneath her mobcap.

  Maria gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. Across from her Sam, still unseen, merely opened his eyes, smiled lazily, and sat up.

  “Reverend Treat sends his gratitude for weaving such a pretty blanket for him,” Aunt Helen said, a hand on her back as she shuffled her feet on the mat just inside the door. She’d been beautiful once, but now, age had drawn a spider web of lines upon her cheeks and at the corners of her faded blue eyes. “Oh, when is this rain ever going to stop? I know we need it to water the flowers, but if this keeps up ’twill surely drown them!” She shook out her cloak, turned to hang it upon the peg—and froze, her jaw falling open at sight of the sea jacket that hung there.

  “What on earth….”

  Maria’s heart skipped a beat. “Auntie—”

  But the old woman was already sweeping into the room. Seeing Sam upon the settle, she froze, her eyes bulging with shock.

  “You!” she gasped, clutching her throat and turning an alarming shade of red.

  Sam rose, giving her an elegant bow that was more suited to the king’s court than this frowning Medusa. “Captain Samuel Charles Bellamy, madam, at your service.”

  “What in God’s name are you do
ing in my house?!” The cords in her birdlike neck stood out as she pierced Maria, who sat trembling in her chair, with a look of outrage. “What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself, Maria, or I’ll have Justice Doane down here so fast—”

  “Here now,” Sam said calmly, thinking that Maria had indeed spoken the truth about this wizened old witch. “Spare your niece your anger, and save it instead for me. She asked me to leave, but I insisted on staying.”

  “Well, if she asked you to leave, then why didn’t you?”

  “Because I wished to speak with you.”

  “I want you out of here this instant and so help me God, if you ever set foot near Maria again you’ll find yourself in the gaol so fast you won’t know what hit you!”

  She lunged for the fowling piece leaning against the hearth.

  But the dog that appeared in the doorway behind her concerned Sam far more than the gun did. He caught its muzzle as the old woman swung it around with enough force to take off his head, pushing it calmly away until it was pointed at the thick beams of the ceiling.

  “Really, madam. There’s no need for such outrage. I can assure you that my intentions are quite honorable.”

  “Someone of your sort wouldn’t know the meaning of the word honorable! Reverend Treat says you’re a Royal Navy deserter, and anyone who would leave the king’s service—”

  At that moment Gunner made his attack. Maria screamed, Sam jumped back, stumbling over the settle—and the gun went off with a terrible, deafening explosion.

  The ear-splitting roar was the only thing that saved him from the beast’s jaws. Gunner froze, the gun dropped from the old woman’s startled hands, and Maria lunged forward to grab the dog’s collar. With as much dignity as he could command given the circumstances, Sam picked himself up from the floor.

  “See, even the dog doesn’t like you,” the old woman snarled. “Get out of here, unless you wish Maria to turn him loose!”

  But Maria was dragging the dog, still growling, toward the door. She put him outside. “Auntie, Captain Bellamy said he wishes to speak to you. Please, at least listen to what he has to say.”

  “I care naught for what he has to say!”

  “Ah, but I think you will,” Sam said, picking up the musket and putting it back in its original place. In the fireplace a log fell and sent up a shower of sparks. “I came here to ask your permission to court Maria.” The old woman’s eyes widened in outrage, but Sam, undeterred, went on. “But I’ve since changed my mind. Instead, I should like to marry her.”

  “Marry her?”

  “With your consent, of course.”

  It took all of two seconds for Aunt Helen to find her voice. “How dare you,” she seethed, trembling with outrage. “You sail into town, set it astir with your talk of treasure hunting, and then come here asking for my Maria’s hand. Never in my life have I met anyone so arrogant! A knave you are, a libertine, and a rogue, to boot. And just what have you been doing with her behind my back, you son of Satan? I’ve seen your likes before, all charm on the outside and as vile as a viper within!”

  “Auntie!” Maria cried. “Sam has done nothing to deserve your hatred of him!”

  “So it’s ‘Sam’ now, is it?” The old woman glared fearlessly up at him. At any other time, he would have found her courage amusing—but not now. “I want you out of here by the time I count to ten, or God help me, I’ll put a hole in that black heart of yours so fast that Satan himself won’t have time to prepare a proper welcome.”

  “Madam, I only ask for your niece’s hand. Is that reason enough to murder me in cold blood?” He smiled. “If so, then I’m afraid the coroner will have his work cut out for him, for you’ll have to shoot every young pup who comes knocking at your door. Maria is the finest of women. How can ye blame me for wanting her as my wife?”

  Aunt Helen’s eyes narrowed to chips of blue ice. “Captain Bellamy, I don’t care what you want. You will not take Maria as your wife, and you will not court her. You…are…not…good enough for her!”

  The words were careful and calculated. Meant to wound.

  And Aunt Helen was relentless. “When my niece marries, ’twill be to someone respectable. Someone I approve of. An honest farmer, a hardworking fisherman. A God-fearing man. You, sir, are neither. I’d rather her become an old maid than marry you. What do you have to offer her? Nothing! Nothing but heartache! Oh, I know the lot of a seaman. Leaving his poor wife at home for months at a time, her belly fat with child while he’s off carousing in every port he docks in. Wenching, gambling, drinking. Well, that won’t happen to my Maria! She deserves better than that!”

  Count to ten, Sam thought, clenching his fists at his sides and staring out the window as he fought desperately to control his temper. “Is that your final answer, then?”

  “It is my only answer!”

  “Auntie, you’re being unreasonable,” Maria pleaded, glancing between the two. “Sam would make a good husband!”

  “No man of the sea makes a good husband! My answer is no, you knave. Don’t make me repeat myself!” She pointed a bony finger toward the door. “Now, fetch your coat and get out of here. Now. I’m counting!”

  Sam nodded, but his smile did not reach his eyes. “Very well, then,” he said with a dispassionate shrug. “You win—this battle maybe, but certainly, I can assure you, not the war.” He saw Maria’s eyes flooding with tears as he reached for his damp coat, drew it on, and faced the old woman with resolute eyes. “You haven’t seen the last of me, madam, I promise ye. Good day.”

  And then he opened the door, stepped out into the rain, and was gone.

  Chapter 5

  Pains of love be sweeter far

  Than all other pleasures are.

  — Dryden

  It had been two days since Sam Bellamy’s visit.

  When her aunt asked her to take a sack of corn to the mill to have it ground into meal, Maria was more than happy to escape the awkward, stifling tension that had sprung up between them. Her errand done, she also wasted no time in turning the protesting mare—who would much rather have returned to the barn—off the King’s Highway and westward across the marshes toward Billingsgate Harbor.

  She was a sinner—disobedient, willful, and wicked—and if Auntie found out that she was on her way to see Sam Bellamy, God only knew what she’d do. But Maria was undeterred. Surely, something that felt so right could not be a sin, could it?

  But as Jilly’s sorrel haunches churned before her and the cart bumped over tufts of grass, Maria’s rebellion began to turn to trepidation. Never had she defied her aunt so blatantly before. And worse, what would Sam think of her brazenness?

  The scent of ripe marshlands strengthened, the wind brought whiffs of salt and sea to her nose. Massachusetts Bay appeared before her, serene and well-behaved in comparison to the thundering surf of the Great Beach a few short miles across this narrow arm of the Cape. Maria could see the masts of a few ships now; one of them was probably his. Her hands grew damp upon the reins and she bit at her lower lip, cursing herself for a fool.

  But the harbor stretched before her and there was no turning back. Fool she might be—but she wasn’t a coward…was she?

  No, not a coward. A sinner, a fool, a brainless little idiot—but not a coward. And indeed, as Maria drew up to the quay and scanned the collection of vessels moored in the harbor, her heart was not pounding out of a fear that her aunt might find out, or that Sam would think her brazen—but from a sudden terror that Lilith might have already sailed.

  “Maria Hallett!”

  Startled, Maria whirled at the sound of the male voice. Jilly, taking advantage of the opportunity, dove toward a clump of marsh grass several feet away, sending the reins burning through Maria’s palms. It was Paul Williams, sweat glistening upon his ruddy face and causing the powdered curls of his full-bottomed wig to cling damply to his brow and cheeks. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and grinning, came forward.

  “What a pleasure to see you
again!” he said amiably. “And a fine day to be out for a ride! Did you come down to see the boats?”

  “No, I… I, uh….”

  It would be improper to admit the real reason she’d come. But Paul Williams noted her averted eyes, her fidgeting hands, the way the color was creeping above the loosely knotted kerchief that concealed the rise of her bosom. “Then you must be looking for someone, eh?”

  “No. No, I… I merely went out for a drive, that’s all. I really shouldn’t tarry.”

  Coward….

  His friendly brown eyes began to sparkle mischievously.

  “Well then, I won’t detain you. I just thought you might be looking for someone. A West Countryman, perhaps?”

  Her cheeks went from pink to scarlet. “No!” she declared, a bit too emphatically. “I told you I’m merely out for a drive! I’m leaving now.”

  He laughed and put a restraining hand on Jilly’s bridle. “Stay right here, and I’ll get Sam for you. He’ll be glad to see you.”

  “No, honestly—”

  “Oh, he won’t mind. He’s been doing the work of ten men and could use a break. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

  “Mr. Williams, please!” Maria cried desperately.

  It was bad enough that Sam would think her bold and brazen. But now Paul Williams probably did too—as well as the men aboard the sloop who’d stopped what they were doing to stare at her with leering, undisguised interest. Oh, God. She wanted to slink off into the woods. She wanted to slap the reins against Jilly’s back and send her away at a full gallop. She wanted to race back home before her aunt found out. She wanted—

  Coward.

  A muscle began to shake involuntarily in her calf. Her mouth went as dry as November leaves. It was too late. Paul was already walking out on the dock, calling across the water to the anchored sloop.

  Oh, why did I do this?

  And then she saw him. He was high in the rigging, so high that her heart lurched with dread. As she watched, he grabbed a line, plummeted to the deck, and landed as lightly as a mountain cat bounding from a tree. “Paul!” His distant voice was good-natured, teasing. “Idle hands won’t get us out of this hellhole. Am I the only one working around here?”