What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  He smiled, and bright white teeth flashed. “Well, lucky for Steele I’ve some time to spare.”

  The gold chains around his neck jingled as he sauntered back toward her. He idly scratched the corner of his mouth, but his body was rigid. For the first time since this plot began, she smiled. Luke Bradley didn’t like taking orders from anyone. Shamelessly, she enjoyed the fact that he had to do just that.

  Three pistol shots rang one after another. Her signal. If they were to succeed, they had to go now. She pulled up the hem of her dress, and his green eye deepened to the color of wet moss.

  “I’ve not seen many women wear pants under their dresses. Is that the new fashion these days?”

  “It pays to be prepared; you ought to know that.”

  She lifted her gown a little more and revealed two blunderbusses strapped to her thighs. She slid one from its leather tie and held it out to him. He stretched for it, but she kept the weapon out of reach.

  He sighed. “What do you want? A promise written in blood?”

  “Just your word, Bradley.”

  His tongue grazed his front teeth. “You’re willing to trust the word of a pirate?”

  “We’re saving your life. We can take it just as easily.”

  His laugh had a full-bodied tone to it. It sent her stomach down to her toes.

  “Ah, yes, you and the illusive Captain Steele. First, you have to get me out. And I don’t know how you can manage that, even if those weapons are loaded. The Royal Navy has waited a long time to hang me. It’ll take more than a little smoke and noise to distract them.”

  “Yes, but Sam wants you alive, probably more than they want you dead.”

  “I doubt that.” He smiled again.

  Her hand dipped between her breasts and removed the key she’d taken from a guard. The key she’d snatched a scant moment after the cake she’d offered them had twisted their insides, folded them in half, and sent them running to the privy in a wave of mortification.

  Luke leaned against the bars, his arms crossed over his dirty shirt. There was something about him that could make a woman forget herself. She sensed a difference in him, though she hadn’t the time or inclination to unearth it.

  His gaze lingered on the exposed flesh of her chest. “You’re full of surprises, luv. You have any other treasures hidden in there, or am I trespassing on hallowed ground? I don’t imagine Steele takes to sharing.”

  Heat suffused her face. Her ears smoldered, but she ignored the reaction. Luke’s lecherous ways were not worth responding to.

  “Now don’t be running out of here with pistols blazing; you’ll ruin everything,” she warned.

  He glared. “You know, that’s insulting. I’m not famous for my stupidity.”

  Samantha gave him a telling look, took the other blunderbuss from her thigh, and unlocked his cell. She pointed the weapon at him. “Just so you know, I won’t hesitate to shoot you if you botch this up. I won’t go to prison for you, Bradley.”

  “Well, now that we have all the niceties out of the way . . .”

  The door clanged open. Luke stepped out and walked toward her until the toes of his boots brushed her shoes.

  “You do know what you just did, don’t you, luv?”

  At that moment, she didn’t know much. Not with him so close, sharing the same air. She swallowed forcibly, hoping she hadn’t made the worst mistake of her life.

  “I just commandeered Captain Luke Bradley to help settle a score. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Bloody hell! The phrase kept repeating itself as Luke and the woman crept to the prison door and peered outside. He squinted against the sun’s brilliance. Well, if nothing else, he had to admit Steele had one hell of a knack for creating bedlam. The whole village scrambled. Women ran frantically about, their arms laden with crying whelps. Men armed with swords, rocks, and anything else that could inflict damage prowled the town, hunting for attackers that even Luke couldn’t locate. While grenades exploded and pistols fired, animals ranging from chickens to mules dashed about half-crazed. The navy, in full uniform, wove among the chaos.

  As inventive as the commotion was, the girl was much more entertaining. She’d tucked her weapon back under the folds of her skirt and was combing long fingers through her glorious hair. Waves of chestnut with golden streaks wrapped around her nearly bare shoulders.

  If his life hadn’t depended on getting out of jail, Luke would’ve taken more time to appreciate the curves that all but spilled out of the red bodice when she raised her arms. He also would have taken the time to act on the lust that slammed into him and left his blood boiling.

  “It’s hardly the time for a little primping. Could you save that for after I’m safely away from the gallows?”

  She glared at him. “Follow my lead,” she said, and wrapped her arm—a little too firmly—around his waist.

  He had time only to tuck his pistol within his sash before they stepped boldly from the cover of the prison door.

  She leaned heavily into him, forcing him to do the same to her, lest he fall over. She smelled of a sweet summer’s day. Sultry words, slightly slurred, slipped past lips that held his rapt attention.

  He knew that from a distance they wouldn’t be noticed for anything else than what they seemed, just another scoundrel taken with a trollop. Only those who’d look closely would see the rest.

  Though her body may have been leaning, it was anything but submissive. And then there were her eyes, cold and hard as ice, shooting him frozen daggers. He’d also bet his good eye her jaw was clamped tightly shut. Though her words were the right ones, the tone could hammer nails. A weaker man than he would shrivel before her. Luckily, he was very adept at wenching.

  “You devil,” she purred. “We should at least wait until the sun sets.”

  Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled and meant it. “Aye, but I can’t wait any longer, luv.” He swung her up in his arms and chuckled at her stunned expression. She might have a plan, but damned if he wasn’t going to bend it to suit him.

  “Put me down, you filthy rat!”

  “Careful, luv. We’ve a plan, remember? You don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.” He squeezed her closer. “It was you, wasn’t it, that told me to follow your lead? You’ve not changed your mind, have you?”

  Anger flushed her face, gold fired in her eyes. But the curse that came from her delicious mouth made him smile. And it sealed her fate. He leaned in, his quick kiss absorbing the next expletive. Another time, he concluded, he’d linger. It might keep her quiet longer. As it was, the minute his mouth left hers the colorful language continued. Judging by the profanity she spat, one or both of them were going to hell.

  “Where’s the ship?” he whispered in her ear. “And you might want to bend a little, it’s like carrying a length of wood.”

  She softened, barely.

  “There’s a boat waiting at the docks. It’ll take us to the ship, which is moored nearby.”

  Smart woman, he thought. Slip out quietly. No, he reminded himself, it wasn’t her idea. It was Steele’s.

  “Put me down,” she ordered.

  He grinned at her rose-colored cheeks. “Not on your life, luv.”

  Ignoring her muttered protests, Luke wove through the confusion, her slight weight allowing him to keep a steady pace. However, he couldn’t see down so well, and more than once he stepped into something soft that squished beneath his boots. Perfect. He had a beautiful wench in his arms, he was escaping the gallows, and his boots were now covered in shit.

  Since his luck had tended toward such things lately, he ignored the smell that trailed them. Keeping his head down enough to look preoccupied and fill his senses with the freshness of the woman in his arms, he nonetheless kept his eye on his destination and his surroundings.

  “They haven’t noticed us,” she whispered.

  “Not yet,” Luke agreed. Still, he picked up the pace.

  Just as they were making their way to the wa
ter, its surface glistening under the sun, a man weighing no less than three hundred pounds rammed into Luke and knocked him off his feet. With the bundle in his arms, he couldn’t stop the fall.

  He landed hard on his arse. His hands went back to keep his skull from splitting on the hard street. The lady’s delicious weight landed on his lap, thankfully away from his privates. For the time being, she hadn’t succeeded in turning him into a eunuch. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pushing creamy breasts right under his nose.

  “Begging your pardon,” the man yelled over his shoulder as he ran by.

  “No problem,” Luke murmured, his eye devouring the banquet before him, “no problem a’tall.”

  She heaved a breath and immediately realized her mistake. She scrambled off his lap, her face flaming brighter than her dress. “Let’s go. The guards are bound to be back soon, and they’ll realize you’re missing.”

  He grinned, doubting she’d noticed the squeak in her voice, and followed her the rest of the way to the docks. A fleet of small rowboats waited. He took one and rowed around the inlet, followed by another four boats, which he assumed contained the crew.

  There, in the sparkling bay, bobbed a beautiful little eight-gunned sloop. She was as blue as the sea and, as far as he was concerned, equally as beautiful. The mainsail rested around the boom; the lone mast stood arrow straight. The hull rocked lazily with the waves. She wasn’t a big ship, but he’d bet she was a fast one. He could almost feel the tiller beneath his palm, the sails full of wind. Not his ship, he thought with regret. Steele’s.

  But he’d have his own again. Very soon.

  His gaze bored into the lady’s back. Steele had sent her. Something wasn’t right about that. Though he’d never met Steele, he’d heard of him. And from everything he’d gathered, Steele wasn’t the type of captain to send someone else to do his work. Which made Luke think. Something was amiss, and before he agreed to anything, Steele had a lot of explaining to do.

  The deck of the Revenge, the name he’d noted as they’d rowed closer, soon bustled with men.

  “Weigh anchor! Hoist the sails!” someone yelled.

  Luke spun around to see Steele, whom he assumed issued the command, but couldn’t locate him. The small crew of perhaps twenty-five scrambled about, making their number look like forty. Everyone saw to their duties. Two men braced on spread legs cranked the windlass. Their faces were strained from heat and work as they raised the anchor from the turquoise water.

  The mainsail was released. Ropes groaned as the canvas was pulled into position. The lifeboat, dripping salt water, was replaced on its perch below the boom. Still no one appeared to be the captain, especially the young lad who held the tiller.

  With a snap the sails filled, and the ship began to cut through the water. In its wake were the four stolen rowboats.

  For a second Luke forgot Steele and savored the moment. This was his favorite time of any voyage. He loved to see the canvas full, to feel the slash of the water underneath him, and to breathe deep the salty spray while wondering where this next adventure would take him. Would they find a large merchant ship loaded with goods? Would they have to out-sail the navy? Would it be gold, doubloons, or pieces of eight? It didn’t matter. It never mattered, as long as it happened at sea. Everything about sailing called to him. And without his own ship, he yearned.

  Which brought him back to the matter at hand. He grabbed the man closest to him. “Where’s Steele?”

  The pirate looked around and shrugged. “Here somewhere,” he said, and slipped below.

  Bloody hell! Luke spun around. No one said another word, and he had no way of telling which mangy rat was Steele. Then he caught sight of the scarlet dress disappearing beneath the quarterdeck. Oh, no, she didn’t, he thought. Luke moved to follow her, but one of the crew stepped between him and the hatch. Luke shoved him aside, his patience at an end.

  The man whipped around and grabbed Luke by the shoulders. “Ye’d best watch yerself, son, this ain’t yer ship.”

  Muscles in Luke’s arms were primed and ready, but he held himself back. The man was right; this wasn’t his ship. And until he knew exactly what was going on, he couldn’t afford to do anything stupid.

  “Is it yours? Are you Steele?”

  He released Luke’s arm. “I’m Joe, the first mate.”

  “Where’s Steele?”

  Joe took a deep breath, his rounded belly resembling the full sails.

  “Capt’n’s busy at the moment. Yer to wait ten minutes, and then ye can discuss the terms of yer agreement.”

  Luke leaned closer to Joe, not wanting any misunderstanding. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  “Capt’n’s been waitin’ a long time for this.” His eyes moved from the calm sea to Luke. “The crew won’t take yer lack of cooperation lightly.”

  He pushed Luke out of his way and walked to the stern. He ruffled the young whelp’s head and took the tiller. Luke’s mouth watered. What he’d give to feel the control beneath his palm again. To have his own ship. It had been so long. He shoved aside the thought. First, he had to deal with Steele and put an end to this game.

  Luke’s stomach tensed with a feeling, a very solid one, that he hadn’t really escaped after all. He followed Joe.

  “I’m about done waiting for this infamous captain of yours. Tell Steele, if he should show up, that I’m waiting in his cabin.”

  Luke reached for the hatch, but before he could grab it, a vise of an arm coiled around his waist and hoisted him up until the toes of his boots just tickled the deck.

  “Ye won’t be goin’ nowheres without permission. Capt’n said to give him ten minutes.”

  Luke wanted to argue, but breathing was a bit tricky at the moment. The huge man was crushing his lungs.

  A light ring, like that of a Christmas bell, tinkled from below. With no warning, the vise was removed and Luke thumped to the deck, doubled over, wheezing in air.

  “Capt’n’s ready for ye,” Joe announced with a definite grin in his voice.

  From behind the lacy screen, where she’d finished changing into a more modest dress, Sam heard the ladder creak. The hatch slammed closed. There was a thud of boots as someone jumped off the last rung onto the floor of the cabin.

  Her parrot, Carracks, ensconced in a cage at the base of the ladder, warned her she had company.

  Squawk. “Man in cabin. Man in cabin.”

  Bradley. She pressed a hand to the butterflies in her stomach, set the bell down on the floor, took a steadying breath, and stepped into the line of fire.

  “I heard you and Joe arguing. You’re not long on patience, are you?” she asked.

  He glared at Carracks. Then her.

  “No, and you’d best remember that, luv.” He glanced around the small cabin, frowning. “Where the devil is he now? I’ve had enough of his blasted games.”

  She skirted past him, the hem of her simple blue gown flirting with the polished floor. In a matter of steps she’d passed the bed to her right and stood beside a neat little table nestled next to the ladder. It had four wooden chairs, and she held on to one for support.

  Luke’s energy equaled that of a tied-up animal’s. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be docile when let loose.

  “He’s asked me to begin without him. He has a few pressing things to do first.”

  The chains jangled at Luke’s neck with each step he took. “I don’t care if he’s relieving himself. He can squeeze it, shake it, tuck it back in, and get his arse over here.”

  Sam choked.

  He arched a brow. “What’s the matter? You can’t possibly tell me I’ve upset your sensibilities.”

  She bit her cheek to keep the smile back. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we? The articles are in the—Now just a damn minute!”

  He took her arm, dragged her a few paces, and pushed her onto the bed. She sat stiffly, her blood turning colder with each shallow breath she took. His legs blocked her from standing. No am
ount of demanding or cursing moved him. Indeed, it fueled him. He placed his hands next to her hips and forced her back onto the mattress, her toes dangling off the floor.

  Squawk. “Stand away. Stand away.”

  “What’s going on here? Why do I get the feeling I’m being led blind where I don’t want to be going?”

  She wouldn’t allow him to badger her. “You had no place else to go, remember?”

  “Aye, I do. But that doesn’t change what’s happening now. Where’s Steele?”

  This wasn’t how she’d planned it. Hadn’t she labored over the plan to make sure it would all work accordingly?

  The butterflies turned to angry bees. And like her, they wanted out of the current situation. “If you move out of the way and let me stand . . .”

  He grinned. Before the smile could die on those cursedly full lips, she’d pulled a dirk from her bodice. She pressed it against his thigh, dangerously close to what he surely considered his most valuable treasure.

  “Move away, Bradley, before I ruin all your future encounters with the tavern wenches.”

  Stepping back, he raised his hands in surrender. But his eye warned that the fight wasn’t out of him yet. Indeed, the moment she stood, he grabbed her hand again.

  Squawk. “Hands off! Hands off!”

  “Let me go, you filthy rat! I told you nobody touches me without my permission.”

  “Apparently even your parrot knows that.” He squeezed harder. She gasped and dropped the knife. It flopped on the bed like a dead fish.

  “And I’ll tell you that I’m through waiting. I’ll let you go when you tell me what I want to know. Where’s Sam Steele?”

  A knot at the base of her neck took root and grew. It throbbed up her skull and pounded behind her eyes. “Honestly, if you’d just—”

  “Where?” he bellowed, leaning in further.

  Carracks paced in his cage, ruffling his yellow and red feathers. Sam pressed her lips together. Luke wasn’t in charge here. She was.