What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  She circled him now, and he felt very much like prey.

  “Willy will tear the smaller square sail. We’ll drag pots and an old mattress behind to slow our speed.”

  She stopped in front of him.

  “And just so you understand what I’m meaning, I’ll say it all very clearly and very slowly. From all appearances it will look as though we’ve been attacked and our ship is crippled. Aidan and I . . .”

  At her words, the boy appeared at her side, a young man ready to defend his captain.

  “We’ll be waving white handkerchiefs and holding back tears while the rest of you lie about as though wounded. A few moans here and there wouldn’t hurt.”

  Samantha looked over her shoulder at Joe. “Does that about cover it?”

  “Don’t forget we’re to be armed and ready, and when the other crew comes aboard, we jump, ready to fight.”

  His gloating expression made Luke feel like a child who’d been too simple to figure it all out himself.

  “See, Luke, we’ve done this a time or two. And usually the guns don’t get fired because we’ve managed to catch them ill prepared. Seeing as how you’ve signed the articles, you know that though Dervish is my first priority, I can’t expect my crew to sail with me for free. Be that as it may, I prefer to compensate their loyalties with as little violence as possible.”

  Her lips curved. The gesture was rich in satisfaction.

  “I’ll take your silence for an apology,” she said, then dismissed him by giving him her back.

  By the time the ships came within hailing distance, all the pieces of the puzzle were in place. Men were sprawled on the Revenge’s deck. Joe, Willy, and a few others were draped over the guns. Trevor and three more appeared to be tied up in ropes, unconscious or dead. Four men had remained below, armed and ready should the need arise.

  From his position by the lifeboat where he lay spread on his stomach, Luke watched from between his folded arms. Samantha and the boy were at the gunwale. She waved her handkerchief with one hand and kept an iron grip on Aidan with the other.

  The captain of the merchant vessel stood on his deck. The size of his ship had Samantha shielding her eyes from the sun to look up at him. She was too bloody small and delicate to be standing there all alone. Luke wished she’d listened to reason and let him take that position. Not that he could pretend to be a woman, but he could have feigned an injury. The results would have been the same, and she would have remained safe below.

  He didn’t think on the whys of that. There’d been women on a few of the ships he’d sailed on, though none of them a captain. Their safety hadn’t concerned him any more than the rest of the crew’s. But Samantha’s, for a reason he couldn’t fathom, did.

  “Ahoy, there. What happened?” The captain’s stance was wide. The musket he pointed at her gleamed in the sun.

  “Pirates!” Samantha wailed. “They took everything.”

  She hugged Aidan closer, as much for his protection, Luke figured, as for effect.

  “My son and I are the only ones who escaped without wounds.”

  The man looked past her to the deck. Luke closed his eye to a slit. As long as the captain was on guard, they had to be careful.

  “Small crew.”

  She nodded, and Luke noticed her fingers were digging into Aidan’s arm.

  “Can you help me get to Barbados? We can’t stay out here, and I know nothing of sailing.”

  The desperation in her voice was so real that Luke almost believed her.

  Some of the captain’s crew had gathered round him, whispering among themselves. But the flag Samantha had raised, the one that matched theirs, snapped so that Luke couldn’t hear. Their expressions, however, were cautious.

  Luke’s blood was coursing. It tingled in his fingertips. He looked forward to a good battle, but not with a woman at the forefront. Sweat trickled into his eye and stung.

  Samantha’s arm swept to encompass her ship. Luke saw her face was pale, her body strained. She looked exactly as she pretended: scared, alone, miserable. And he knew, without question, it wasn’t all an act.

  “I need to see that these men get a proper burial. I can’t simply throw them overboard. It’s”—she shuddered—“uncivilized.”

  Well done, luv, Luke thought.

  “Ma’am, you can’t leave them there, either. The smell alone will be horrendous long before you get to port.”

  “Oh, my!” she whimpered, turning back to the captain. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Her knees buckled, and she took Aidan down with her.

  Luke held his breath. Every muscle twitched in anticipation. The pistol under his belly was ready.

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?” the captain asked.

  She said nothing, simply kept Aidan in the circle of her arms and wept. The waiting while the captain of the merchant ship decided their move was endless. The breeze waltzed between the two foresails. Water gurgled between the ships. Sweat from the men lying around him rose in unseen currents as the tension mounted. They were hidden hunters, ready to strike and catch their quarry unawares. As one of them, Luke’s mind toyed with all possible ways the battle could go.

  “Prepare to board!”

  The command washed excitement down Luke’s dry throat. The contest had begun.

  Grab hooks arched through the air. They scraped across the deck and dug into the sides. Samantha hurried Aidan to the quarterdeck, always using herself as a shield between the boy and the men.

  Luke counted ten sailors coming across. All carried muskets and extra shots. The captain came on board first. A quick hand signal, and his crew dispersed. Luke’s plan to keep the captain in his sights died when one of the boarders stopped and blocked his view. A boot kicked him in the shoulder. Luke moaned and muttered a curse, then eased one hand under his belly. The pistol slid warmly into his palm.

  “You! Are you hurt?”

  He sprang to life. With the grace earned through years of practice, Luke launched himself to his feet and pointed the weapon at the sailor, whose face drained of all color.

  In a cresting wave, the crew of the Revenge leaped up, pistols raised, teeth bared.

  “P-pirates!” someone stammered.

  A quick look showed most of the sailors’ weapons shaking in their hands. Every face was the color of a freshly laid egg. Every face but the captain’s.

  His was red. Luke saw the fury boiling within the man. Hell, he didn’t blame him for feeling like a fool, so long as he didn’t act like one. Especially since he was close, far too close, to Samantha.

  “Captain?” a man asked from behind Luke.

  The rest of the crew still on board the merchant ship had weapons raised. There were at least double the number of the Revenge’s men. Sweat trickled down Luke’s back. He shifted his gaze just quickly enough to notice Samantha had Aidan tucked behind her, and she’d produced a blunderbuss from somewhere. She stood defiant, her weapon aimed. It scared the hell out of Luke. He knew she’d die for the boy, and prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

  The captain’s voice was coated with bitterness. “I will not be taken by these curs,” he said, then lunged for Samantha.

  Bedlam erupted on the deck.

  Shots cracked in the tropical heat. Luke narrowly avoided one that splintered into the lifeboat at his back. He ducked, rolling to the deck, and fired at the sailor who had him in his sights. The man gasped, dropped his musket, and collapsed to the deck. Luke dragged himself behind the lifeboat and, using it as cover, reloaded.

  He raised the barrel over the side of the boat and took stock. There were too many bodies lunging and fighting to be certain, but he figured the Revenge was holding its own.

  “Get them!” the captain shouted over his shoulder, and Luke spun toward him.

  His heart leaped, then dropped like an anchor. The captain had cornered Samantha on the quarterdeck and was inching closer. Her pistol was rock solid as she kept it pointed at his heart. There’s a girl. Another
shot exploded into the mast to Luke’s left. Wood fragments burned across his cheek and his ear rang. Luke fired. He hit his target, who staggered over the gunwale and splashed into the sea.

  Fists were flying now, and he saw Willy land a heavy one into an opponent’s stomach. The sailor doubled over and fell hard on his knees. Another was coming straight for Luke. Luke dodged the fists, then cracked his attacker over the head with the butt of his pistol.

  It didn’t take long for the merchant crew to realize that though they had more men, they weren’t nearly as good at fighting. Muskets dropped, clanked onto the decks as arms were raised in surrender. Luke bolted for the quarterdeck.

  He wasn’t quick enough. The captain had reached Samantha and grabbed her arm.

  “Let go your weapon, wench!” he ordered.

  “No,” she answered, then to Aidan added, “Stay down.”

  Luke grinned at the authority in her voice until the man banged her arm on the gunwale. He didn’t hear the bone break, but the thud of her arm being repeatedly struck against the solid wood curdled his stomach. Then she shouted and her blunderbuss rolled to the deck. Aidan, ignoring her screams to stay put, crept around her and grabbed it.

  Now both Luke and Aidan had the captain in their sights.

  “Let her go,” Luke growled, so angry that for the first time he could remember, he wanted to hurt someone not for treasure or self-defense. But simply to inflict pain.

  The captain shifted Samantha in front of him. “No. You will not loot my ship.”

  Luke glanced over his shoulder. “Who, exactly, is going to help you with that?”

  Other than ropes creaking and the sea licking the hulls, there was silence. The merchant crew on board the Revenge was being tied up. Joe and Willy were aboard the other ship, taking care of those men. One they’d missed made for the guns. Before Luke could do more than yell to Joe, the shot was fired. It exploded into the Revenge, rocking her and everyone on board.

  Samantha gasped in horror.

  Outraged, Joe barreled toward the perpetrator, even as the man cowered. Joe lifted him by the collar and heaved the scoundrel overboard. The blinding rage in the captain’s eye said he was out of supporters, and he knew it.

  “I will not,” the captain said low in his throat, “be taken by pirates.”

  Luke treaded very carefully, knowing both Samantha and the boy could easily be hurt. “Don’t be a fool, man. This could have all been done nice and easy if you’d only surrendered.” He pointed to a few men who lay in pools of blood. “Those lives were lost because of you. Don’t make us take yours as well.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and he gripped Samantha tighter. Aidan’s gun was shaking, but Luke kept his attention on Samantha. It was about keeping her safe. Her face was pale, and her bright eyes shifted from him to Aidan.

  “I won’t be the one doing the dying next time. It’ll be her.”

  His arm wrapped around her neck. Samantha’s eyes widened and her breath wheezed out. The arm that wasn’t choking her pointed a pistol at Luke. Luke took one step before Aidan cocked his weapon. The sound splintered the silence. The captain’s gaze cut to the boy, as did his weapon. Samantha wriggled frantically.

  “Not Aidan,” she rasped.

  Later, he’d be insulted by that. Luke yanked the boy behind him, taking the weapon from his stiff fingers. Once again the pistol pointed at Luke’s heart.

  Samantha suddenly threw herself to the side. She and the captain lost their balance and staggered. He righted himself quickly, grabbed her, and threw her against the gunwale, where her head cracked against the wood. It sounded louder than a pistol shot to Luke.

  Luke leaped. He knocked the man down and they rolled to the deck, a mass of tangled limbs. A fist knocked his head to the side. He swallowed the metallic taste of blood and swung out. The skin over his knuckles split as surely as the man’s lip. Luke struggled to stand, but was grabbed by the ankles and pulled down. His cheek bounced off the smooth deck, where he had a second to smell the tang of polish. Before he could catch his breath, a boot smashed into his ribs.

  Stars fell before his eyes. His breath lodged in his lungs, where it burned to come out. By the time it did, wheezing between his cracked lips, he was rolled onto his back. A knife, long and shiny, was arching toward his throat.

  Then his attacker was knocked aside by a parasol to the head.

  Luke rolled away as Samantha lunged for a second attack. Sweating, panting, and hurting more than he’d like, Luke scrambled to his feet. His stomach lurched when the captain’s blade sliced into her forearm.

  Blood dripped off the knife. Luke grabbed the pistol at his feet, aimed, and despite Samantha’s being within a foot of her attacker, pulled the trigger.

  Seven

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

  Sam winced. Her head throbbed. Even the slightest noise resounded like cannon fire. It hurt to swallow and the cut on her arm raged. She was bone weary and emotionally exhausted. She didn’t need Luke. She needed to be alone.

  “What do you want now?” she asked, not bothering to get up from her perch on the side of her berth.

  “To ensure you’re all right.” His gaze cut to her wound. “Are you?”

  She shrugged, though it cost her. Fire flashed up her arm at the movement. Her breath hissed between her teeth before she could stop it.

  Luke stepped from the ladder, past Carracks’s tirade of “Damn Luke,” to her side.

  “Lie down. I’ll find some water and cotton to bandage that up.”

  Joe had already gathered the supplies needed. He’d insisted on tending to her until she’d ordered him back to work. It was, after all, his turn at the helm. He’d cursed and complained about stubborn women, and had been only slightly mollified when she’d let him carry the necessary items down to her cabin. She pointed to the table where Joe had left everything.

  “It’s all there, Luke. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told Joe; I can do it myself. Why don’t you make yourself useful and help Willy patch the ship so we can make it to Barbados without sinking?”

  Water splashed onto his boots as he carried the bowl over. It was a sign of how weary she was that she wasn’t driven to wipe it up.

  “And I’ll tell you, luv, that I’m not leaving. Now shut up and rest so I can see what the damage is.”

  She didn’t lie down. With her emotional fragility, it would have seemed far too intimate. Instead, she scooted back and pressed her spine to the wall. Luke poured a shot of rum and held it out. Before her fingers could take the cup, he’d raised it.

  “Here’s to your health,” he said, and finished the drink in one gulp.

  Then he poured another and handed it to her. “Drink this, it’ll numb the pain.”

  The rum was warm. It slid down her tender throat. Directly behind that balm, however, was agonizing pain. Hundreds of hot needles plowed up her arm as Luke washed away dried blood. Sam turned her head and bit her lip. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of calm seas and blue sky. Anything but the fire in her arm.

  “It’s going to need sutures.”

  His tone, heavy with regret, drew her attention more than his words. She opened her eyes and was confused by the expression on his face. If she hadn’t known him for a rogue, she’d have sworn he looked genuinely concerned.

  “I figured it might. Get Willy, he can do it.”

  Luke threw the rag into the bowl. Red water swam up the side, spilled over, and landed on his pants.

  “I’ll not get the carpenter to do a hacking job on that arm,” he said disgustedly. “We’ll be in Barbados tomorrow night. I know someone there who can tend it, and do a better job than that butcher would.”

  Sam jumped to Willy’s defense. “Since he’s been mostly responsible for keeping my ship in great working order, I think he can do this.” The drums marching in her head increased their rhythm. “Just get Willy. The sooner he finishes, the sooner I can get to sleep.”

  It was hardly
surprising that Luke ignored her. Instead, he finished cleaning the wound, then wrapped it in clean cotton. His fingers brushed her skin with each wrap around her forearm, and Sam expected to see sparks. Surely something so strong that it sent pulsing heat to every part of her body would be visible.

  “There. That’ll keep it together and clean until we get to port. Now . . .” his lustful gaze slid over her from head to toe. A mischievous grin pulled at his swollen mouth. “Anything else need tending?”

  Warmth spread all over her and gathered disturbingly between her legs. Sam jumped from the bed.

  “Other than being tired and having a splitting headache, I’ll live.”

  He leaned against the ladder, mischief sparkling in his gaze.

  “No ‘thank you, Luke’?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Luke. Go away.”

  She was turning down the covers when he made his move. From behind her, his hands snaked into her hair, his thumbs rubbing at the base of her skull. Her initial jump at the contact was soon soothed by the wonder of long fingers. It felt far too good to resist. Her head lolled forward. Tingles danced along her scalp as his hands worked their magic, easing away the tension and pain until she felt weightless. She swayed.

  “Time for bed, luv.” He scooped her up.

  He could have put her down straightaway, but instead he held her close to him. His shirt was still damp with sweat from the battle. Dried blood ran from his mouth to his chin. He looked every bit the fearsome pirate.

  Yet that wasn’t what she saw when she looked him in the eye. Luke had never hit her or threatened her. He’d located Dervish when she’d failed to. He was gentle, irritating, and arrogant. A strange combination that worked for Luke Bradley. Added to that was the very real fact that she wanted to be around Luke. Especially now.

  Their lips were mere inches apart. His hands tightened, pressing her closer to the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Wicked promises lay within his dark gaze, promises that should have scared her but only made her hungry. She wondered what his lips would feel like on her own. Not the smacking kiss he’d given earlier, or the others to keep her quiet. A real one. How desperately she wanted to feel his softness, to discover the things he could show her. Without realizing, she leaned in.