What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  He also hadn’t asked if she’d like to lie with him. He’d assumed. She bit her lip as reality slapped her hard in the face. Of course he wouldn’t ask. He was a pirate. Damn it, why did she keep forgetting that? Carracks’s scratchy voice carried from her cabin, though the words were muffled.

  Like her parrot, she had to find a way to live with Luke. Until Dervish was dead, they needed him.

  And after Dervish died, Sam feared she’d still need Luke.

  He had managed to stir her desires and then slip away, not caring that he’d left her a tangle of emotions and wants she didn’t understand.

  Well, Samantha, she thought, if you needed more proof he’s a pirate first and foremost, there it is.

  Nine

  It took little thought for Oliver to guess Tortuga as Samantha’s starting point. Every vermin who sailed under a pirate flag infested the island. Why should a whore accompanied by one be any different? Besides, Isaac had said his ship was sailing east by northeast. Which put Tortuga right in their path.

  The coins in his pockets jingled as he strolled from one filthy tavern to another. He would use those coins liberally for anyone who had word of Luke Bradley. The chance that they’d remember one strumpet from another was slight. He’d decided he’d have better luck asking about one of their own. Sure enough, they’d seen him not two days ago, but hadn’t spoken to him. A second coin loosened their memories enough to lead him to the man who had.

  Oliver ignored the rotting trash that littered the streets. He casually stepped over broken bottles, shattered cups, and at least three drunks who’d lost consciousness. The smell of stale beer and rum rose from their filthy bodies. Still, it didn’t bother Oliver. Having slaves in his employ, he was used to garbage. And he would do whatever needed doing in order to win in the end.

  He stepped into Doubloons and took the first somewhat clean table he saw. Luke Bradley had been there, which meant so had Samantha. Oliver licked his lips eagerly. From his precarious perch on the edge of the scarred chair, he searched the room. He’d been told to look for a bear of a man at least a full head taller than any other around him. He frowned, not seeing anyone of such stature.

  He looked again, and this time found the one he’d been searching for. The giant sat with four empty mugs before him. By all appearances, he didn’t seem drunk. When he stood, he overshadowed every man in the dimly lit tavern. The floor shook when he stomped to the long bar to get another pint. Oliver scraped his chair back and made his own way over the sticky floor.

  “Can I buy you one, friend?” he asked.

  The giant looked down on him with clear blue eyes. Oliver figured he often used that look to intimidate. Well, it wouldn’t work today. He was getting closer to Samantha, and nobody was going to stand in his way.

  “You ain’t me friend, but I’ll let you buy me one. Yo, Polly, this bloke’s buyin’.”

  Oliver forced a smile and counted out the coins. He followed the giant back to his table.

  “What are ya after?” the other man asked pointedly as he guzzled half the cup.

  Oliver remained standing so as not to be dwarfed. “Your friend Luke. He said if I ever made it this way, to buy you a drink.”

  The big man laughed, the sound as enormous as the mouth it thundered from. Then his dense gaze roamed over Oliver’s clean suit.

  “That so? Luke been hangin’ around the wrong parts again?” He shoved his chair away from the table. “When did you see him?”

  Oliver ignored the insult. “A few days ago. Saw him and that girl, Samantha, heading out of Port Royal.”

  “She’s a beauty, all right. I didn’t catch her name the other night. Samantha.” He sighed, and his mind drifted for a moment before he said, “Luke seemed mighty possessive.”

  Oliver’s fingers curled in his pockets. He’d been sure, but to have it confirmed gave him the fortitude he needed. There would be no stopping him now. He wouldn’t rest until he had her. She might be spreading her legs for Bradley, but he’d see to it she spread them for him also. Before he killed her.

  He had to focus, Oliver reminded himself, as the giant was now frowning. “Well,” he said jovially, “you know Luke.”

  The man nodded and took another gulp. He slammed the empty mug down. Oliver jumped as the table rattled on spindly legs.

  “I have some business with Luke, but wasn’t able to catch him before he left. Do you know where he was heading?”

  “I ain’t stupid, man. You’re no friend of Luke’s, nor Samantha’s.” He threatened the life of the chair when he leaned back. Though creaking in pain, it remained surprisingly intact. “And I’ll not be tellin’ you anythin’.”

  Since he’d expected that, Oliver shrugged and took a small black pouch out of his pocket. At the jingling noise the other man sat up. Knowing he had his attention, Oliver pulled the strings on the bag and slowly poured out a pile of doubloons.

  “I need to see Luke about a personal matter. You tell me his whereabouts and I’ll hand you this money.” He lifted a coin, turned it slowly before the giant, and dropped it into the pouch. He counted thirty before the man put his anchor-sized hand over the bag.

  “All you need to know is Luke’s destination?”

  “That’s all.”

  His eyes never left the coins as he contemplated. Oliver wasn’t worried. He’d used money before to bribe his way through legal matters. Money spoke a universal language. It was only a matter of time until the man listened.

  “Luke ain’t stupid. He’ll kill ya if he smells a rat.”

  Oliver had no doubt money could buy Bradley’s possession of Samantha. If not, then he’d die alongside her. After he’d watched his whore be ridden one last time.

  “Let me worry about Bradley.” He eyed the man over the coins they both held. “Where did he go?”

  Greed filled the giant’s eyes. Still, Oliver was restless. This man knew something, and he’d damn well better talk soon.

  “Santa Placidia.”

  Oliver smiled, his heart pounding. Gladly, he released his hold on the money and sauntered out to the sound of a happy man counting easy money.

  Captain pocketed the coins. He liked Luke well enough and knew the man’s skills. Luke was wily. It would take more than some dandy whose hands looked as though they hadn’t seen a real day’s work to get the best of Luke Bradley. He signaled for another drink and rewarded the pretty barmaid with a smile and pinch to her arse.

  He raised his cup to Luke.

  “Good luck, mate,” he said, and got back to the business of drinking.

  It wasn’t until after the midday meal that Sam figured she was tired enough to sleep without thoughts of Luke plaguing her. Sunshine glared through wisps of clouds that did nothing to lessen the sweltering heat. There was no wind to speak of, and the Revenge bobbed lazily on the stillness of the sea.

  The crew had seen to their tasks and were whiling away time playing cards. The men sat in a circle next to the lifeboat with a mounting pile of coins and other personal effects in the middle.

  Willy frowned at his cards, his cheeks flushed over the top of his beard. Joe’s hair stood on end and looked wiry enough to scrape barnacles off the keel. His expression showed less than Willy’s, but Sam knew by the way his nostrils flared that he had a winning hand. Aidan, skin glowing bright with the joy of being included, was studying his cards intently. Trevor struggled to hold the cards in his gnarled hands before throwing them down to stretch out on his back and await the next deal.

  Inevitably her gaze sought Luke, as it had since he’d taken his shirt off in deference to the heat. His skin was smooth, his torso long and lean. When he’d first shed his shirt, she’d been blindsided by a fist of desire. Thankfully, his back was to her now, and by stretching onto her toes, she could see the cards he held. A knave of diamonds, three of hearts, ace of spades, two of clubs, and nine of diamonds. Absolutely nothing.

  He threw in another shilling.

  Aidan sighed, though the smile rem
ained painted on his face, and tossed in his lot.

  Was Luke out of his mind? He had nothing and was increasing the stakes in steady measures. How could he be so bold? She would never—

  The thought brought her round. No, she wouldn’t wager unless she knew she could win. That Luke risked it all with little or nothing to fall back on spoke to exactly who he was.

  Willy grunted and tossed his cards aside. Joe’s ruddy cheeks turned a deeper red. His gaze shuffled from his cards to Luke and back again. Sam waited with bated breath to see what Joe would do. There was a hefty amount of money to be won or lost. Strangely, she didn’t want either man to lose.

  Expectations built while Joe decided his move. Backs were straightened, smiles replaced sleepy expressions as the few who’d lain back to rest caught the excitement and sat up to pay attention. Sam watched anxiously, heart thudding and palms sweating.

  Luke examined his fingernails.

  After a heavy few minutes of waiting, Joe reached into his pocket, withdrew something silver, and tossed his pocket watch into the pot. Sam gasped. Her crew smiled through yellowing teeth, enjoying the intensity of the game.

  Sam wiped her palms on her cotton skirt. There had never been a game on her ship before where the stakes were so high. Luke shrugged, leaned to the left, and reached deep into his pocket. Sam let go the tiller, stepped aside to see what he’d added.

  Her breath escaped in a whoosh. He’d thrown in five doubloons.

  Willy whistled softly through the gap of his teeth. Muscles in Joe’s jaw flexed as he realized he’d lost. Sam knew he couldn’t add to it. He was left no choice but to fold. Large, angry hands crushed the cards before he threw them down. Hatred spewed from Joe’s eyes as he glared at Luke. Joe wasn’t a sore loser. Sam knew it wasn’t his losing that angered him, but rather to whom he’d lost.

  Luke mildly folded his cards back into the deck, his winning hand remaining a mystery. She’d assumed he’d slowly play each card, one at a time, so the crew could see how cleverly he’d fooled them. Instead, he’d wisely avoided the resentment his farce would have created. Then, with both arms looped around his winnings, he dragged the lot toward him.

  “Filthy piece of vermin,” Joe muttered. He stood, stretched his arms over his head, and stalked toward her.

  Sam, annoyed with herself for being glad Luke hadn’t lost, put on a sympathetic smile for Joe. She should have wanted Luke to lose. She should have been feeling worse for Joe’s loss. Only crazy men gambled with nothing. Luke shouldn’t have won. But the fact that he’d risked it, had the gumption to risk it, earned respect. Even if it was grudgingly given.

  Joe was at her side, wide belly heaving.

  “Lucky bastard. If I’d had me more money, I’d have beaten ’im.”

  Wisely, Sam didn’t reply to that. She had a feeling Luke would have just kept on betting and Joe would only have lost more.

  “I’m sorry about your watch, Joe.”

  He took a deep breath and smiled at her. “You know me, lass. I don’t bet what I ain’t willin’ to part with.”

  They watched Willy crawl into the lifeboat, place his hat over his face, and fall asleep.

  “Besides, bloody watch ain’t worked in five years. I only kept it as a reminder of England.”

  Sam laughed, the guilt easing off her shoulders.

  Then Luke caught her eye and her gaze sharpened while her smile evaporated from her lips. He’d stopped by the cannon closest to them and was watching her openly. Hungrily. It was a bold move with Joe straining next to her, more than ready to go at Luke once and for all. The mistrust between them was as strong as a hurricane. Luke smiled, a sinful curve of mustached lip that sent Sam’s stomach tumbling. She pressed a quaking hand to her jittery stomach.

  “I’ll tell ye again, I don’t trust ’im.”

  “I know, Joe. Just a little longer, and then we won’t need him.”

  “And that’ll be a fine day, a fine day.”

  She fell into troubled silence. In some ways, yes, to be rid of Luke would be a fine day. Yet the thought brought a terrible ache around her heart. She closed her eyes against the sparkling water. Maybe Luke wasn’t the crazy one. Perhaps it was her.

  “I’ll leave her to you, Joe. I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded and took over the helm. Deliberately ignoring Luke’s gaze, which hunted her with every step, Sam went down the main hatch to the galley. Since the card game had begun, her throat was drier than sand on a beach, and she hoped to remedy that with her rationed cup of water.

  With each step down, the crushing heat eased. Damp air that carried the residual smell of the midday meal cooled her heated cheeks. Sam sighed at the welcome relief. She’d have lifted her gown for a moment to feel the chill on her legs, but the sound of boots overhead changed her mind. Those were Luke’s, and she certainly didn’t want him to catch her with her skirts raised.

  Nearly choking on the thought, Sam hurried to the cask of water, removed the lid, and ladled out her share in a crockery mug she’d taken from the line of clean mugs nearby. The sound of those boots descending didn’t surprise her. It did, however, make her stomach leap.

  He jumped down the last few rungs and regarded her openly, hungrily. Her hand tightened around the mug. Determined that he not see again how he affected her, Sam held her ground, even though she’d prefer to run. Run before he could plunder her mouth again. Run before she let him.

  Besides, fleeing would only encourage a man like Luke.

  And Luke needed no encouraging.

  “I see I’m right on time,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For you to share that water.”

  The thought brought back sensual memories of their kiss the other night and threatened her resolve not to get any closer to Luke. He’d hurt her in the end, she needed to remember that.

  “You’re welcome to get your own.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve already had my ration,” he said, stepping closer. “And I don’t think the crew would appreciate my taking more.”

  “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about what your captain would do?”

  His grin was arrogant. His gaze hovered on her breasts, reminding Sam how close he’d come to touching them. Suddenly the galley wasn’t as cool as it had been.

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  “Oh? And how can you be so certain? I have it on good authority that the captain doesn’t like you very much.”

  The green of his gaze deepened and his mouth once again curved sensuously.

  “I fear you’re mistaken, luv.”

  He pressed closer. Still shirtless, his golden chest gleamed with perspiration. It should have been unpleasant. But Sam couldn’t help wondering how it would feel beneath her fingers. Even the smell curled her toes. Salty air agreed with Luke.

  Her heart drummed behind her breasts. She prayed he couldn’t see what his state of undress was doing to her, because if he did and he pursued it, Sam knew she’d be powerless to resist.

  “I don’t believe I am.”

  “Are you, now? What about the way you were watching me on deck? You nearly stumbled when I removed my shirt.”

  “I most certainly did not!”

  His eyebrow arched. “You’re denying it?”

  “I don’t have to deny something that didn’t happen.”

  “But you liked what you saw,” he said.

  “Only in your own mind, Luke.”

  Sam hadn’t thought he could step any closer, but he proved her wrong. Her breasts pressed into his chest. His breath caressed her cheeks and teased the hair that had escaped her bun. His heat was unmatched by even the sun. It burned everywhere their bodies touched, regardless of whether or not there was clothing in the way.

  Considering her with an animal’s hunger, Luke wrapped his hand around hers and brought her cup to his lips. He drank deeply. Sam’s attention locked onto his throat, and she licked her lips. When her eyes met his, she knew he’d seen her reaction.
She yanked her hand, and water sloshed over the rim and splashed Luke. Trails of it crept down, lower and lower until they met the waist of his trousers. Sam couldn’t help but stare. Luke didn’t step back.

  “Want to get that for me?” he asked. “With or without your tongue,” he offered.

  Because she was tempted, she shoved away, losing yet more water in the process.

  “You’re crude.”

  “And you, luv, can’t resist me.”

  What could she say? He was right, and they both knew it. She hadn’t even attempted to resist him.

  “I had a moment of weakness,” she conceded.

  His fingers brushed her lips before she could avoid them.

  “In that case, I look forward to your next lapse in control.”

  Though her lips were still tingling where he’d touched them, Sam raised her chin, pushed her cup into his hands, and left him grinning behind her.

  Stepping into her cabin was like stepping onto land after weeks at sea. Safe. She once again felt safe. The bedcovers were in place, which shocked her. She’d expected Luke to leave her cabin in shambles, yet it looked exactly as she’d left it. She sighed and kicked off her shoes, then lifted them from the floor and placed them directly next to the screen. Since it was warm, she decided to take off her dress and sleep in her shift.

  Carracks made scratching noises as she began to undress behind the screen. She slipped a button free. Then another. When the bodice gaped open, she heard an appreciative whistle.

  She clutched the garment to her chest and peered around the screen. Luke wasn’t there, nobody was. Only Carracks, which could mean only one thing.

  “Damn that Luke,” she muttered.

  Squawk. “Luke is handsome. Luke is handsome.”

  Sam stepped to her parrot’s cage, where he danced side to side on his perch, oblivious to the fact that he’d been manipulated.