He shook her, snapping her head back. Lines bracketed his mouth. A storm raged in his eye. “Where’s Steele?”
Oh, blast Luke Bradley to the devil himself! She’d wanted him to sign the articles first, but he left her no choice. Her heart clawed in her chest from his nearness. She couldn’t stand having any man this close, this overpowering. Cursing him, she sputtered, “You’re looking at him, all right?”
He released her, in shock. He shook his head.
“What? I’m what?”
Sam quaked with fury that she’d let him get the best of her. Dammit, hadn’t she a plan? He wasn’t supposed to know. At least not until he’d signed the cursed articles. Until then he could still refuse to help. Damn him for ruining everything!
“I’m Sam Steele. Are you happy now?”
Squawk. “Sam Steele. Sam Steele.”
“Even the bloody parrot knew.” Bradley thought about that and then shook his head. “How in the bloody hell is it possible that you’re Steele?”
Squawk. “Sam—”
Luke spun. “Shut up, you!”
Carracks stuck his tongue out, then turned his back on them to nibble on his cage. Sam sighed. If only she could turn her back on all this so easily.
“My real name is Samantha Fine, but as that would be a silly name for a pirate, I changed it.”
His gaze scanned the room, and as he took it all in, Sam noticed his knuckles got whiter and whiter. Though she saw it every day, she tried to see it from his position. First, the lacy screen she’d bought to ensure she’d always have privacy while changing filled one corner. Second, no filth littered her cabin. She didn’t tolerate a filthy ship, and that included her quarters. And of course the bedcovers were neat, except for the wrinkles he’d caused when he’d thrown her down. Though it cost her, she ignored the desire to smooth them. She knew Luke wouldn’t appreciate her tidiness just now.
“No, it’s not possible,” he said. His fevered gaze grabbed hers. “How is it that the fact you’re a woman isn’t known?”
She sighed. “Every time we take a ship or go into port, a different member of my crew takes the name. That way nobody can tell for certain what Steele looks like.” Once again she moved to the table.
“And you remain anonymous?” Understanding softened his words.
“Yes.”
“Well, that explains the conflicting stories I’ve heard about Steele. Once he was fat, the next time gaunt. Some said his hands were all gnarled, making him useless as a captain.”
That was Trevor, her cook. She remembered how much it had pleased him that day to be Steele. How he’d preened about, his watery blue eyes more alive than she’d ever seen. She must remember to give him another turn soon.
While Luke’s anger seemed under control, Sam pressed the issue. “Now that you know, can we get on with the articles?”
He scowled. “I don’t know anything, yet. Why Dervish? What’s Steele—” his gaze clouded. “What do you want with Dervish?”
So much for his anger being under control. However, her reasons for going after Dervish were her own, and she had no intention of sharing them with Luke Bradley. He knew all he needed to. Her past remained hers, the pain not one to be shared with a pirate, with a man no better than those who had killed her family.
“He stole something of mine,” she said sharply.
“And you’d be wanting it back?”
Her spine stiffened as biting memories surfaced. “What he stole cannot be taken back or replaced. It’s not treasure I’m after; it’s revenge.”
Long, slender fingers, a musician’s fingers, toyed with his mustache. “Which explains the name of your ship. Not very original, luv.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “So am I to assume that because Dervish turned his crew against me and left me for dead in the sea, you thought I’d be game to help you in this little venture of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” He turned a chair and straddled it. “Are you not aware that it’s been years and I’ve not taken my own revenge yet? If I haven’t done it for myself, why would I do it for you?”
She’d thought of that, of course, though his words scared her. He had to help. She wouldn’t accept anything less. She pressed the only advantage she had. “To get his ship. I can see by the light in your eye you’re wanting your own ship, Luke.”
He turned his head to the small window and the sea that rocked behind it. “Aye, but not his. Besides, it’s not just him I’d have to deal with, but his crew as well. I want a ship, luv, but any will do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She shoved her chair aside. “You form an attachment to a ship. You’ve sailed on that ship; surely she means something to you. One is not as good as another.”
“Ships, luv, are like women. You always think the one you have underneath you is something special until the next one comes along. Suddenly, it pales in comparison.”
“You are vile,” she spat.
He shrugged. His indifference didn’t help bank the fire within her.
“Can we finish this now?” She took the papers from the table. “The articles will explain everything.”
He took them, and she paced while he read. His shallow breathing echoed in the confines of her cabin. Her own rattled unsteadily in her chest. She couldn’t think about the possibility of his refusal. It had been too long already. They needed to find Dervish so it could finally end.
The papers snapped in his hand. “I’ll not agree to this.”
She smiled at the mortification on his face. “Let me guess. Number five.”
“ ‘No crew member is to get drunk while on board.’ No, I won’t bloody well agree to that. It’s madness.”
“You can drink your life away when we go ashore. But on my ship we drink to stay alive, not to get drunk.”
He snarled at that.
She waited, her hands wringing, her ears focusing on the slap of waves against the hull and the thud of boots overhead. He was wading through the papers as if they were mud. Finally, when she was near ready to explode, he flicked the agreement onto the round table.
“This doesn’t explain your reasons for seeking out Dervish.”
“Nor will it,” she said firmly.
He leaned back in his chair. “You’re not giving me much motivation, luv.”
“You read the contract. You’ll get a larger share of plunder on my ship than you’ll find anywhere else.”
His pointed gaze probed hers. “Why is it you take so little? As captain you’re entitled to more.”
Sam sighed, resigned to the fact that she’d have to answer some of his questions if they were ever going to get on with things.
“I take only what the ship needs for its voyages and a very small sum for me. I’m not here to make a fortune, Luke.”
He smirked. “Your selflessness wouldn’t seem so distorted if your sole purpose wasn’t to find and take a life.”
She gnashed her teeth, weary of both him and this conversation.
“That’s my business.”
“Hmm . . . perhaps for now it is.” He propped his boots on the table.
Sam glared at him, wishing with all her might that she didn’t need him.
“Well, since I’m already free and you’re not likely to risk your pretty ship and your equally pretty neck to take me back, and since I couldn’t care less about Dervish or his ship, what’s in it for me?”
“I already told you. A larger share of plunder.”
He crossed his ankles as well as his arms. “Not good enough.”
She took the chair across from his, so there was no mistaking her. She leaned in, braced on her forearms. For a few charged seconds they stared, measured.
“This is to be my last voyage as Captain Steele. Once Dervish is taken care of, I’m finished. So”—she leaned back in her chair—“if you don’t want his ship, how about taking mine?”
Two
The ship was quiet. The crew was asleep, some m
en below in the hold amid barrels of water, rum, and food, and others spread out on deck. Willy, her carpenter, always chose a place underneath the lifeboat. Aidan, the youngest member of her crew, preferred the bow. Their snores ranged from purrs to rumbles and kept Sam company on her watch. There was no wind and the water lapped lazily at the hull, like a kitten with a saucer of milk. A full moon, unobstructed by clouds, cast its reflection on the sea. Samantha watched the yellow ribbons dance on the current.
“Keep starin’ like that and it’ll put ye to sleep.”
Because she’d recognized his steps, having memorized all of the crew’s, she turned with a smile on her face.
“You should be asleep, Joe. You’ll need your wits about you in the morning.”
She accepted the mug he offered her. The coffee was thick as mud but it was wet, so she drank it.
“As will ye. There wasn’t much chance to rest this afternoon.”
Sam rolled her neck from side to side. Her shoulders were tight and achy, but there wouldn’t be any sleep until morning. Once the sun pushed itself above the horizon, she’d fall into her berth.
“We haven’t talked all day. How did Luke take the news?”
Joe wasn’t only her first mate; he was all that was left of her family. Willy, too, had survived that horrible night, and as much as she appreciated his work and loyalty, she hadn’t known him as long and therefore her feelings for him didn’t run as deep as they did for Joe.
She grinned. “That I was Steele? Shock at first. Fury was certainly there. But Luke kept it all tightly bound. He’s smart, Joe. We’ll be wise to remember that.”
Joe’s ruddy cheeks creased when he smiled. His pale blond hair shone in the moonlight, giving the illusion of a halo.
“Aye, but not half as smart as our Steele.” He sipped his coffee. “I saw ’im come from yer cabin. He didn’t look pleased.”
“Well”—she rubbed her palm on the smooth wood of the tiller—“that’s to be expected.”
Joe stepped closer, the buttons of his shirt straining to close over his girth. The smell of cigar smoke, a cloak he always wore, was familiar and comforting.
“Ye did it, though. Got yerself Luke Bradley.”
She ignored the pride that filled his eyes. Springing Luke from jail to help her kill another man wasn’t an action worthy of the fatherly love in Joe’s warm gaze. In fact, it made her feel very close to the horses’ droppings Luke had stepped in earlier. She sighed and rubbed at the knot at the base of her neck. Soon. It would be over soon. Then maybe she’d be able to do something worthy of Joe’s admiration. And her own.
Her free palm closed over her stomach. The nerves that had jumped there all day had abated, but the memory of how they’d clawed at her remained. “I have to say, Joe, I was worried. I don’t think I breathed until he’d signed the contract.”
The familiar creaking of rigging and lines, the gentle rock of the ship, eased the nerves she felt coming back. Sam drew a breath. The articles were signed. She’d locked them in her table before slipping out of the cabin. Luke had questions. She’d seen them in his stance and in his hesitation to let her pass.
“Are ye sure ye trust him, lass?” Joe straddled a cannon. His coffee steamed under his beard, giving it a ghostly look.
Sam took a last gulp of coffee and set the empty mug aside. “No, but we need him. And I should tell you I’ve promised him the Revenge when it’s all done.”
The understanding in his eyes was the same she remembered from that dreadful night.
“Not a day goes by, Joe, that I don’t remember it all—the noise, the smell of fear and death.” She paused. “Being thrown overboard.”
His eyes shone and he took his time with his next swallow of coffee. “ ’Twas the only thing I could think of. Yer father wouldn’t have settled for less.”
Which was the truth. Joe had been designated her and Alicia’s companion when her parents were busy or stayed ashore long past the time their children were tucked in bed. Her father would have wanted her safe. But why, her heavy heart asked again, did it have to be without them?
“I’m just glad you followed me in. And that Willy was still alive. It took so long for Dervish to leave that I was sure everybody would be dead when we went back.”
“I’d like to say the rest didn’t suffer, lass, but we both know better.”
She did. They’d bobbed in the water, listening as the pirates had plundered and raped the Destiny. The gleaming wood the whole crew took pride in had lain splintered. The sails had wept where they’d been ripped and shredded. And through it all, over it all, were the screams of the crew as they fought off their enemy. Limbs and dead bodies had rained down around them, slapping the water before sinking into watery graves.
Sam shook it off. “And when it was all done, they cheered like it was a damn party. ‘Long live Dervish and the Devil’s Wrath.’ I swore then and there that animal would pay.”
Joe swung a thick leg over the cannon and cupped a hand under her chin.
“He will. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll help ye see to it. I stayed not only out of respect for yer father. Ye was too young to be on yer own. Yer still all alone, Samantha Margaret, and I’ll not be leaving ye until that’s changed.”
“I’m older now.” She attempted a smile, which she was sure looked more like a grimace. “I’m Sam Steele. I can take care of myself.” She raised up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Although I appreciate your being here.”
Because the mood was too heavy, she began to hum a little ditty she knew always made him smile. It worked. He leaned against the gunwale.
“Not scared Luke’ll turn us against ye?” Joe teased.
She threw him her empty mug, and he caught it in one of his big fists. “You’re harder to get rid of than the barnacles that cling to the hull. Willy seems content enough. Aidan and Trevor as well. If we haven’t had a mutiny after four years, I don’t expect one now.”
Joe’s voice lowered and all humor escaped him. “Aidan, Trevor, and the others, they’d be dead without ye. They’re not goin’ to be forgettin’ that anytime soon.”
She pushed aside his comment. They’d all had to claw their way out of hell. It had taken nearly a year, but she’d gotten out. “Then we’d best concentrate on Luke.” Sam looked around the ship. There were shadows of sleeping men, of guns at rest, and of the gently swaying lifeboat, which hung beneath the boom. “Is he sleeping below?”
“He’s there, but not sleeping. Got himself propped against the wall, his pistol resting beside him. I’d say he sleeps with one eye open, but then he wouldn’t sleep, would he?”
“Joe!” She shook her head.
“Just messin’ with ye.” He ruffled her hair. “I’ll be up at dawn, then ye can get some rest.”
He disappeared below, and Sam turned back to the water. She let her thoughts drift along with the sea. Her past was never far out of her mind, but their conversation had brought it to the surface.
Upon rowing back to Port Royal, Sam, Willy, and a wounded Joe had collapsed on the beach. They’d treated Joe’s wound as best they could, then slept under the palm trees until dawn. With the sunrise, Sam and Willy had tried to get Joe’s wound examined. But they had no money, and nowhere to go. A local man, a plantation owner, had found them. He’d taken them back to his sprawling house, which was surrounded by fertile fields. Joe’s wound had been tended; the men had been fed and offered work.
Mr. Grant, the plantation owner, had taken her on as a worker as well. Though her heart was lost at sea, she would at least have a roof over her head and food in her belly. If only it had been that easy. It wasn’t long before the true nature of Mr. Grant was unveiled. He wasn’t a kindhearted man out to help three lost souls. He was after slave labor.
The men were tortured and beaten. Food was not a certainty; it was leverage. Anybody who moved a toe out of line, or dared complain of sixteen hours in the baking sun and pelting rain, was left without a meal. And those were the luc
ky ones.
“Not much of a lookout if you’re asleep.”
Sam jumped, a terrified scream lodged in her throat. She managed to squelch it before it woke her crew. Her hand clasped over her mouth to keep her heart inside her body. Blast him for catching her so off guard and for making her jump like a fool.
“What in blazes are you doing, creeping up on me like that?”
His pearly teeth shone in the moonlight. “I wasn’t creeping. I walked over. It was you who was asleep on duty.”
Her spine stiffened. She wiped her wet palms onto her skirt. “I was not asleep!”
“Very well. You were looking with your eyes closed. I can’t say I’ve tried that method, but seeing how it seems to work for you, I think I’ll give it a try.”
Sam rubbed her hand over her gritty eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Why aren’t you in your cabin, resting properly?” he countered.
“I always take the night watch.”
He propped his elbow on a gun and leaned forward. “How is it you’ve garnered such a reputation if you sleep during the day?”
“Joe can handle the crew, and he wakes me if he sights another ship.”
“Ah.”
He said nothing else, but continued to stare at her. His gaze stripped her, left her feeling exposed. She’d learned what power a man could wield over a woman, and Luke was no exception. Although it wasn’t violence she saw in his eye, it was equally dangerous. Her conversation with Joe had left her vulnerable, and she decided to ignore the challenge in Luke’s eye. She turned to the sea.
Luke chuckled. “So Captain Steele isn’t as hard as her name implies.”
“What do you want?” she asked wearily, looking over her shoulder.
He lowered his arm, stepped around the cannon. His walk was predatory.
“Why didn’t you tell me straight away in the jail you were Steele?”
He touched her, a slender finger circling the back of her hand. The hand that gripped the tiller tighter and tighter until she was choking it. He was testing her, she knew. Well, it would be a cold day in hell before she quivered before a pirate again.
What a Pirate Desires Page 3
