“Traitor,” she grumbled and slipped into bed. It was all Luke’s fault. In a matter of hours he’d corrupted Carracks and managed to make her uncomfortable in her own cabin. She was almost afraid of what else he’d taught her parrot to say. It didn’t take long to find out.
Squawk. “You want Luke. You want Luke.”
Samantha pummeled her pillow, wishing it was Luke’s face. It had been bad before, when her thoughts were impossible to escape. She groaned, turning her face into the pillow that smelled strongly of Luke. There’d be no escaping him now.
“Storm’s rolling in,” Joe said as Sam climbed out of her cabin five hours later.
She accepted his hand up and scanned the sky.
Angry gray clouds tinged with green tumbled on the horizon. They rolled toward them, seeming to get larger with each blink of the eye. Ragged spears of lightning darted from their mass and lunged for the sea. The winds had escalated during her short and troubled sleep, and snapped the sails. The choppy sea jostled the Revenge. It was only a matter of time until they’d be tossed about like a ball of yarn between a cat’s paws.
She accepted the looking glass Joe passed her. Land off the port side. Sam blew out her breath. Barbados. She lowered the glass, judging the distance of land against the time they had to escape the brunt of the storm.
“We’ll make it, luv. She’s a fast ship, she can outrun it,” Luke said, stepping to her side.
With a slap, she shut the looking glass. Luke’s constant presence, physical or not, was wearing on her. On a ship this size, there was no escaping him. He was in her thoughts, she smelled him in her bed, and now her parrot talked just like him. He shadowed her, never far out of reach, always in sight. And her blasted heart kept fluttering whenever he looked her way.
Her mind warned that Luke was trouble, and she had enough with finding Dervish. But it took only a breath to catch the windy, sea-filled smell of him, to turn and see the teasing in his dark gaze. His desire coiled around her, inside her, and left her blood simmering. When that happened, she forgot all the reasons they were wrong for each other.
“Dervish had best be there, Luke, when we arrive. Or I’ll have yer head on the end of the bowsprit by night’s end,” Joe warned.
Luke cocked his head to the side. “Seems to me, we’d best concentrate on outrunning the storm, or the Revenge will be too battered to go after Dervish.”
“We’ll make it,” Sam said. She hadn’t gotten this close to Dervish to fail now.
“Joe, I need you up with Willy. It’ll take all your strength to hold the sails when the wind picks up.”
As though it heard her words, a gust shrieked between the sails, stretching canvas and propelling the ship through the turbulent seas. In an instant the sky went from light gray to charcoal. The clouds were a solid, angry fist poised to unleash their fury without mercy.
Wind flailed in Sam’s face, whipping her hair across her cheeks.
Luke’s golden hair flew around his head. Despite that, he stood braced on the deck in total control, every inch a pirate. He belonged here. This was his life.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that now. She had to get her ship into port, hopefully still in one piece. Then she could think of Dervish. She tossed a look at Luke, who’d taken a rope and was stretching it back into position. After that, she’d have to decide just what Luke meant to her.
And what she was prepared to do about it.
They arrived in Barbados soaking wet and bone weary. The Revenge had lost a foresail, sustained some tearing in the mainsail, and taken on water when the patch Willy had made after their encounter with the merchant ship split open and the hole doubled in size. It was nothing critical, but enough to keep them in port a few days. Luke couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.
“I ain’t seein’ Dervish’s ship, Luke. Where is it?” Joe demanded after they’d dropped anchor.
Luke scanned the harbor and the collection of ships that rolled with the tail end of the storm. Of course the man’s ship was nowhere to be seen, given that it was moored off a completely different island. But now he had an excuse, more believable than the feeble one he’d concocted.
“With the storm, he could be anywhere. He’s on his way, though. Captain wouldn’t lie,” Luke said. He was the one who’d lied. Of course, it was best they didn’t discover that yet. First he needed Samantha’s help.
Speaking of said lady, she was looking exceptionally lovely in her soaked gown. It clung to her curves, and the damp hair that hung around her shoulders gave her a sultry look. The red stain that had oozed through the sleeve of her gown while she’d fought to keep the Revenge on course would help convince her to go along. Nobody knew Luke Bradley was on board the Revenge. He could slip into the forest that surrounded the town without being noticed. Later, he’d meet up with Samantha and finally have what belonged to him.
There was no holding back the grin. Good luck was finally coming his way.
Sam had absolutely no idea how Luke had talked her into this. He’d insisted to Joe that her arm needed tending and that he knew just the person to do it. Since the wound had opened and Joe was concerned about infection, he hadn’t argued. Then, before she could do more than instruct her crew, Luke rowed them both to shore. He’d given her money for a carriage and directions to where she was to go.
Now here she stood in the dewy aftermath of a savage storm, with the scent of moss and damp earth all around her, facing a home so grand it could have belonged to the governor.
The massive white house nestled amid trees, tall columns holding up a second-level veranda shadowing a large, stately door. Soft light poured from the windows, and beautifully kept hedges and flowerbeds circled around to the back of the house. The dignified home spoke of money, elegance, and respect. What was she, Captain Sam Steele, doing here?
Thankfully, she didn’t look like a pirate at the moment. But what if they could see through her ruse? After all, the dress Luke had barely given her time to change into wasn’t much more than what a servant girl would wear. Her hair, still damp, was pulled back with a plain yellow ribbon. She felt like a pauper going to have tea with the queen.
But Luke had said the lady of the house would help her with her wound, which she had to admit stung like the devil. He’d been adamant that all she had to do was say she knew Luke Bradley and she’d be welcomed warmly.
Humph, she thought. One of Luke’s strumpets, no doubt. Certainly no real lady would involve herself with Luke Bradley.
She cast a glance around the majestic trees that stood sentinel along the lane. Where the devil was he? Too exhausted to question any further, Sam lifted the brass knocker and gave three sound taps.
Sam counted water droplets falling off the leaves of the fern nearest the door while she waited for a response. She shivered, not from the dampness that hung in the air but from an unsettled feeling that she was being watched.
Promptly, a tall, thin man with firmly pressed attire answered the door. He had gray hair and eyes of such a pale blue they were almost white. Perfectly curved eyebrows rose in question as he took in her less than dignified apparel.
Sam felt like a fool. The man looked down a very pointed nose at her. Only through sheer will did she keep her feet from shuffling. What was Luke thinking, sending her here? But since she was here and she’d trusted him so far, she forced the hesitancy from her voice.
“May I speak to the lady of the house, please?” she asked, drawing upon all the decorum she’d learned as a girl.
Nothing moved but his lips. “Madam is not expecting visitors tonight. Pray you come back another day. When you have an invitation,” he added pointedly.
He was half Joe’s size, yet he intimidated her in a way her first mate never had. Perhaps because he represented a life she no longer belonged to, no matter how much she’d like to. She’d known when becoming Steele that there was no going back. She was no longer a lady. She swallowed the regret and tilted her head to look him square
in the eye. Deliberately, she lowered her voice.
“Please tell her I was sent by Luke Bradley.”
The man’s gaze narrowed, and he looked over her shoulder. Sam turned, expecting to see Luke standing there. The lane was empty, although the watched feeling clung to her like moss to a rock.
“I’ll let her know,” the servant said, then promptly shut the door in her face.
“Well, that was pleasant,” Sam muttered.
Cold fingers crept along the base of her neck as the feeling of being watched heightened. Sam pressed her back to the door. It was never wise to turn your back on a threat, seen or otherwise. Nothing was visible except the palm trees that waved lazily, bright hibiscus thriving at their feet. A thin mist rose from the ground with the arrival of dusk. The sky, still dark gray from the remnants of the storm, added to the eerie feel. Sam swallowed, hoping the servant would hurry back.
Then the door opened and Sam staggered back into the entryway. Mortified and more than a little unsettled, she righted herself and ran trembling hands down her skirt. She looked up into eyes that were the same deep green as Luke’s.
The lady smiled warmly, if a bit hesitantly. She peered outside, glanced side to side, then eased the solid door closed.
“I’ve a nice fire in the parlor. Follow me, and we’ll get you warm and dry soon enough.”
Sam had little choice but to follow. The woman’s navy blue skirt skimmed the polished marble floor. Her ebony hair was curled and pinned on the top of her head in a fashionable array. Other than her eyes, she didn’t resemble Luke, and yet Sam knew they must be related. Why else would he send her here?
The next room was richly decorated with brocade-covered furniture, freshly waxed tables, and thick velvet drapery. Once they entered the parlor, her hostess stepped aside, and the heat of the hearth warmed Sam’s cheeks. The curtains were pulled closed for the night, and Sam was grateful for that. Whoever was watching from the trees wouldn’t be able to see her now.
She immediately strode to the fire and stretched her hands toward the dancing flames, wincing when the effort pulled on her wound.
The lady coughed discreetly. “Pritchard said you were sent by Luke Bradley?”
Sam turned, unsure how much to tell her. She accepted the cup her hostess offered and inhaled the lemony tang of the tea. The brew was hot, and Sam cradled the delicate cup in one hand, holding the saucer in the other.
“Luke suggested I come,” Sam said. “He said you’d be able to see to this.”
Sam balanced the cup on the saucer and held out her arm. She flinched as the material clung to her seeping wound.
“You’re hurt!” the other woman gasped.
She immediately set her china on the mantle, took Sam’s arm, and gently rolled up the sleeve. Her face paled in the candlelight.
“It’s so long.” She peered closer. “It appears to have missed the main vein. You’re very lucky.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t feel so lucky when it happened.”
“Oh, of course not! Forgive me, I’m sure that sounded insensitive.”
Everything about this woman confused Sam. If she was a relative, why was she so eager to help Luke? Surely she’d know what he was, and Sam couldn’t imagine a lady of this woman’s stature associating with a notorious pirate. If Sam was wrong about the family connection, there was a very good chance her hostess and Luke shared a romantic past. Wouldn’t she be jealous that Luke had brought another woman to her home?
“It’s not a fresh wound.”
“No, it happened yesterday. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get here any sooner, with the storm and all.”
Her arm was turned and examined by hands as gentle as a babe’s. “It looks clean, thank goodness.”
She gently lowered Sam’s arm. Emerald eyes met Sam’s. “Tell me Luke didn’t do this to you?”
There was both dread and resignation in her voice.
“No, he—”
“Jacqueline, darling, you know me better than that,” Luke admonished as he swaggered into the room.
Jacqueline spun around, her skirts swirling around her ankles.
“Luke,” she whispered, “what are you doing here?”
Which was Sam’s thinking altogether. But before she could ponder that, Jacqueline ran to the doors of the parlor and promptly closed them. She leaned heavily against the tall panels. Luke ignored Jacqueline in favor of the brandy that was on a small cart. The amber liquid circled in his glass before he drank half in one swallow. Then, still disregarding Sam, he smiled at their hostess.
“I’ve come for a visit.” He waved in Sam’s direction. “And to see that Samantha’s arm is tended to properly.”
Jacqueline looked from Luke to her. “Samantha, I’m pleased to meet you.” She turned back to Luke. “We hadn’t yet gotten around to the pleasantries of names with that terrible gash on her arm.”
Luke nodded and poured himself another brandy. Taking his drink, he ambled to the couch, sat as though he belonged, and propped muddy boots on her table. Though their hostess sighed, she didn’t appear distraught over his behavior. Of course, if she was on intimate terms with Luke, she already knew his terrible habits.
That thought twisted something ugly in Sam’s stomach. Horrified, she concentrated on her tea.
“Dare I ask how she acquired such a wound?”
Luke shifted so he could see over the back of the couch. His smile was brash. “A lover’s quarrel?”
Sam gasped, and her cup rattled on its saucer. She set it down.
Before she could speak, the lady held up her hand. “Don’t be offended, Samantha. I’m not. Unfortunately, I’m used to such talk from him.”
Sam’s head was spinning with confusion. Why wasn’t the other woman jealous? Granted, she had nothing to be jealous over, but Jacqueline wouldn’t know that. Sam took another look at their hostess. A long look. Then she did the same to Luke. Within moments she came to the conclusion that there was no possibility this woman was a harlot, Luke’s or anyone else’s. She was simply too refined.
Luke set his empty glass next to his boots, both of which remained on the table. Disgusted, Sam shot him a look. He lifted his hands as though to ask what he’d done wrong. Then the lady looked at Sam with a sympathetic glance, and another thought struck Sam. A more horrendous one. If Jacqueline wasn’t one of Luke’s harlots, which Sam would wager the Revenge on, that left only one thing. She thought Sam was.
She had to correct that at once.
“Excuse me, Jacqueline?” she began.
The woman smiled warmly. “What can I do for you, Samantha?”
She wasn’t making this any easier.
“Apparently Luke was wrong in coming here, as was I. If you’ll excuse us . . .”
Luke waved good-bye over his shoulder, long fingers wiggling saucily. Fuming that he’d made a fool of her, that she’d let him, Sam headed for the door. She couldn’t stay in this wonderful home a moment longer when Jacqueline assumed she’d been with Luke. Even though she wanted to be, which to her mind was equally awful. Truth be told, she spent far too much time thinking and dreaming of being with Luke. Flustered, Sam shook her head.
“Nonsense,” Jacqueline said, hurrying to catch up. She stopped Sam midstride. “Luke was right in bringing you here. That arm needs sutures, and I can do a clean job of it. Don’t you worry.”
She gently led Sam back to the couch that faced Luke’s. “Now sit down while I get the bandages and everything else I need. And then”—she turned determined eyes to Luke’s mischievous one—“we can find out the real reason you’ve come.”
Luke placed a hand over his heart. “I’m bleeding, Jacqueline. After three years I thought you’d have a better welcome for me than that.”
Sam was appalled. What kind of terrible game was he playing with such a kindhearted woman? They were in her home, taking advantage of her hospitality. What would the woman think if she knew the truth about them?
Jacqueline smi
led. Then she leaned over the back of the couch and placed a kiss on his darkly tanned cheek.
“You’re right, of course. Welcome home, brother.”
Ten
“She’s your sister?” Sam whispered incredulously.
Luke crossed his ankles, depositing more mud on an otherwise spotless table.
“Had I not mentioned that?”
“It must have slipped your mind. It would be an easy thing, considering there’s nothing inside there to hang on to.”
Luke’s mouth twitched in an attempt to hide a grin. “I promised you someone who could stitch that, didn’t I? Seems you should be thanking me, not insulting me.”
Sam’s mouth worked but no sound came out. He’d never once mentioned he had a sister, and now here they were, two pirates surrounded by money and stature. She jumped to her feet.
“Luke, we have to get out of here! There are people watching this house. I don’t know who, but I felt them. If they find out you’re here, and that I’m . . . well, we must leave at once!”
“First of all, Jacqueline knows I’m a pirate. So do the men out in the trees. And you’re right, they’re looking for me. As for you, you’re practically invisible. No one knows who you really are.”
“What do you mean you know those men out there are looking for you? How can you be so calm about that? We’re jeopardizing your sister’s life!” She rubbed at her temple. “Your sister. I can’t believe it.”
“They don’t know I’m here. You, luv, were my distraction. While you were keeping them occupied at the front door, I snuck around back. The house has this little side entrance. No one really knows it’s there. You see, it’s hidden by shrubs and—”
“You used me?” Sam inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm herself. “You knew they were watching me? What if they knew about Steele? I could’ve been hanging by morning.”
Anger, disbelief, and hurt stumbled over themselves. He’d both misled and embarrassed her. Not to mention he’d risked her life. For what? For a suture Willy could have done? And all the while she’d trusted him, trusted that he was only seeing to her safety and well-being. The pain around her heart stole her breath.
What a Pirate Desires Page 12
