What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  He pushed the door open, not enough to slam against the wall but enough to make him feel in control. He was Luke Bradley. He wasn’t some heartsick fool trying to woo a fragile maiden. He was a pirate and, as it happened, a man who deeply enjoyed the pleasures only a woman could provide. Feeling better, he set the food on the dresser, took a strawberry, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Samantha sighed in her sleep and turned her head toward him. His heart stuttered. He’d seen her asleep before, and couldn’t say why seeing her now had the same resounding effect it had the first time. Jacqueline. She was putting notions in his head that didn’t belong there. He shrugged off any lingering thoughts of his sister’s words. Samantha had needed sutures. That was all.

  Holding the stem of the seeded fruit, he used a strawberry to trace the outline of her lips, lips that matched the berry’s color, lips that parted sensuously. Lust slammed into him and coiled tightly. He repeated the motion, circling slowly until eyes the color of spun gold met his.

  “Luke,” she said. The husky tone wrapped around his loins and tugged.

  A healthy flush colored her face. She looked as soft and malleable as heated wax. He intended to mold her to him. Her hair spread golden fire across the pillow and the ripe mounds of her breasts struggled against the confines of the thin sheet. Leaning forward, he lowered the strawberry back to her lips. She took a firm bite, making him groan. Then he took his own bite, threw the rest on the floor, and fused his mouth to hers.

  Sweet juice slipped from her mouth to his, mixing with the need that consumed him. Jacqueline’s words echoed around his head as he took the kiss deeper, pressing Samantha further into the bed. He couldn’t run from the truth. God help him, he’d developed feelings for her. But just then Samantha tore at his shirt and his thoughts scattered along with his buttons. Eager hands stoked a fire that had been simmering below his skin since he’d first seen her. He pulled back to draw a breath, then sank into her kiss again.

  He’d think about his emotions later. For now, he had much better things to occupy his time.

  “Are you coming with me?” Samantha asked after she’d bathed, dressed, and had her breakfast. Thankfully Luke’s sister had the foresight to supply her with a few necessary items she’d forgotten on the Revenge. She brushed her hair with the borrowed brush, and although her fingers caressed the ivory combs, she left them on the dresser. She wouldn’t take any more advantage of her hostess’s generosity than she absolutely had to.

  Luke watched her from the window, standing far enough away that nobody looking from below could see him. Over his shoulder the town of Barbados spread out like a fan, and past that lay the docile, sparkling sea with ships of all sizes bobbing in its warmth. Sam took a deep breath, anticipating the salty tang. Had Dervish arrived yet? Lord, she hoped so. She was ready. She rushed to put on her shoes. The sooner she got to the docks, the better.

  “Until we’re ready to weigh anchor, it’s best I stay here. I don’t want to chance being seen.”

  Sam’s fingers fumbled with the hooks. Disappointment settled heavily onto her shoulders. Tucked away in this lovely home, having the best sleep she could remember—not to mention discovering the love and passion she had to share—she’d let reality slip her mind. They weren’t lovers enjoying a few days’ respite from life’s duties. They were pirates, hunted and wanted. Preferably dead.

  She’d always known that. She’d walked into the role of Steele with her eyes wide open. But never since had the stark reality of her choice been so blatant, so cold and empty. What kind of life was that to live?

  Finished with her shoes, she stood and took a long look at Luke. Sunshine beamed onto him. In the bright light the black patch shone with a tint of blue. His shirt was open, revealing muscle and skin she now knew by texture and taste. The chains were once again resting around his neck.

  He was intelligent and strong. As she’d seen when he was with his sister and in the tender way he’d been with her, he was also caring and compassionate. Surely there was more for him than piracy.

  “Is this how you plan to live the rest of your life, Luke? Hiding?”

  He turned slowly from the window where the tops of the trees waved happily in the breeze. A muscle clenched in his jaw.

  “If it means saving my sister’s life, yes.”

  “She’s your family, all you have. What happens when she has children, and you become an uncle? Are you not going to be here for them either?”

  “What I do with my family is nobody’s business but mine,” he said tightly.

  “How can you not want to be a part of her life? She adores you, Luke. I’m sure her children would as well. Is seeing them once every few years the best you can do?”

  His nostrils flared and his lips tightened until they were thin as a blade. He moved toward her. With anger seething through him, Sam saw what he had kept well hidden until now. This was Luke Bradley, feared pirate. Even with only one eye and no weapons on his person, the threat was palpable.

  She’d pushed too far. There was no trace of the gentle lover she’d known. She backed up. He advanced. Uncertainty began to snake into her blood, curving and winding its way until it consumed her. Her whole body went cold. He wouldn’t hurt her; she couldn’t possibly have misjudged him that much. Her back bumped the wall; there was nowhere to go.

  “Luke.” It wasn’t pleading. Not really.

  Emotions surged in his gaze like waves crashing against sharp cliffs. “You know nothing of my life. Nothing.”

  “Then tell me, so I can understand.”

  For a few charged moments he glared down at her. Then he spun away and she sagged against the cool plaster wall. As he went back to stare out the window, Sam took some calming breaths. She closed her eyes until her hands stopped shaking.

  “I’d never raise a hand to you, Samantha.” His gaze cut to hers.

  Her heart gave a small tug, as it would for anyone who looked so dispirited. It was her turn to come to him.

  “I know that, Luke.”

  “Do you?” he challenged. “You went pale as dawn. Couldn’t you feel the shivers that racked your body? Because I bloody could.”

  Their conversation was taking a different path than she’d wanted, but she sensed it was just as important. She laid her hand on his arm, and though he didn’t shove away her touch, she felt the muscles tense.

  “It’s hard to get over the past. It has nothing to do with you.”

  He dropped his gaze to his now polished boots. Worn cracks marred the otherwise shiny glaze. He snorted and shook his head, then stared at her in all seriousness.

  “It has everything to do with me. You think you can turn me into something I’m not. I’m a pirate, Samantha. It’s who I am. Who I’ll always be.”

  She stroked his cheek. “Only as long as you want to be.”

  He grabbed her wrist and lowered her hand. He’d tightened his emotions, and Sam had no idea what he was thinking behind the cold mask he wore.

  “No, Samantha. It’s what I am. I’ll never be a decent man you can stroll with down the streets. I’m not good enough for that.” He released her and took a step back. “Now go see to your ship.”

  Dejected, Sam nodded. She’d accomplished nothing. She hadn’t gotten him to see there were other ways than piracy. She’d learned nothing more of his past or why he believed he was only good enough for robbery. And worse, the tie she felt they’d created last night and that morning had come undone. It scared her just how much she needed it back.

  Her hand clasped the latch.

  “Samantha?”

  She looked over her shoulder. Luke was standing with his arms crossed, his gaze boring into her.

  “I never promised you anything. You know who I am.” She did. She always had. Yet somehow, hope had begun to take shape after their lovemaking. They could try to build something together, away from plunder, cannons, and thieves. His words ripped apart that hope; it splintered and fell in a twisted heap. The honest, soft tone he u
sed said it all very clearly. He wouldn’t change. She was a fool to have believed otherwise.

  Defeat made swallowing painful.

  “Samantha?” he asked when the silence grew to a tangible thing.

  She wasn’t used to having her heart open for another to see. It left her feeling raw. But as it appeared she was to stand alone, she plastered on a smile.

  “I’ll see how the repairs are coming and if there’s been any sight of Dervish. Even with the storm he should be here by now.”

  Luke frowned and took a step toward her. “It’s best not to get your hopes up. He may have sustained some damage during the storm as well. It could set him back.”

  She met his worried gaze. “He’ll be here. After all, it was you who said he was heading this way.”

  Then, before Luke could say anything else, she slipped out the door.

  Twelve

  Sam didn’t use the driver, despite Jacqueline’s note that he was at her disposal, preferring to walk. She needed to clear her thoughts. Holding her head high, she glanced boldly into the foliage, now knowing for certain that men were there. She saw nothing but leaves of varying shapes, some sagging under their own weight, others small with serrated edges. The shades of green were as diverse as the plants themselves. Scarlet flowers pushed through the underbrush, extending stems and thorns for a chance to tilt their velvety faces toward the sunlight.

  In the distance, the town was thriving with activity. It was a stew of jovial conversations, horses whinnying, and myriad shouts, barks, and hammering all stirring within the same pot. Any other time she would have enjoyed the chance to linger, to peer in freshly washed windows and gape at the treasures within.

  Today, as her feet shuffled along to the quick beat of her heart, she hadn’t the luxury. Surely Joe would have seen Dervish by now. All they had to do was wait for him to sail out of port. When it was just between the two ships, with no chance of innocent lives at stake, she would show him the same mercy he’d shown her family.

  Within half an hour she was approaching the bay. Gulls screamed, either begging for food or simply chatting. Sleepy water rocked the ships at anchor in a gentle motion that would have put even the fussiest babe into a deep slumber. Shielding her eyes from the sharp reflection of the sun, Sam scanned the harbor.

  White sails coiled around booms, leaving masts to stand bare in the glaring light. Supplies were heaved up on decks, and men scurried about, unloading and taking them into the holds. Goats bleated angrily as ropes lifted them off the ground, chickens scratched in their wire cages. Sam looked at a ship preparing to sail. Sea water sluiced off the anchor. Canvas snaked up the masts, enfolded the breeze, and snapped to duty. Cleanly, the ship sailed off.

  The piers bustled with merchants coming to buy fresh fish from recently docked boats, young boys dashed between men and boxes. Amid them all were swaggering seamen back on land after long weeks at sea.

  Her gaze embraced the Revenge. As she generally chose not to go ashore, the opportunity to see her ship at anchor didn’t present itself often. It brought a smile to her face. Lord, she was pretty. Sam had chosen the color when they’d repainted her and she’d never regretted her choice. She matched the sea now. A much better choice than the olive green she’d been. Pride and love crept past the hurt of Luke’s earlier words and settled comfortably in her heart. She sighed.

  “She takes me breath away as well.”

  Sam smiled, having heard Joe approach a scant second before he spoke. “I’ll miss her, Joe. She’s been my home, the only one I’ve had since . . .” She let the words trail off. So many had already been said about her family, what was left?

  “Ye’ll have yerself another, lass. A fine home with a flock of babes.”

  Sam tore her gaze from her ship to Joe. “If I survive the encounter with Dervish.”

  Joe’s cheeks flamed. “I won’t be hearin’ that kind of talk. He’s outnumberin’ us, but we’ll have surprise on our side.”

  “It will take more than that to win the battle.”

  “Saman—”

  She held up her hand. “No, Joe. We’ve always known the risks. We’ve never discussed them, but we’ve always known.” She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly chilled. “It will take a miracle to come out alive.”

  Joe wrapped his arm around her shoulders, surprising Sam into stillness. He hadn’t done that since the night they fled the plantation.

  “Then a miracle, lass, is what we’ll have. We didn’t survive Dervish and then Grant’s abuse to perish now.” He squeezed her firmly against his broad chest. “Ye’ll see.”

  A merchant pushing a wheelbarrow of silver fish, a few still flopping about, wove around them. Sam held her breath at the pungent smell. Only when they were far enough away and her lungs burned did she dare breathe. She gazed at the harbor.

  “I don’t see him, Joe. Has there not been any sign of Dervish?”

  He scratched his beard, his voice as confused as she felt. “Not one. I figured he’d be here by now.”

  It was odd. Even with the storm Dervish should have reached Barbados before they had. Not only was he ahead of them, but taking the merchant ship and the wounds her ship had suffered had slowed them down considerably. Worried, she chewed her lip.

  “Do you think he’s left already?” She spun around. “Have we come so close only to lose him again?” She didn’t think she could take the disappointment.

  “He’s not been here. We’d know it if he had.”

  Since everything in town seemed to be as it always was, Sam had to agree. The only reason for Dervish to come here would have been to attack. Nothing was burned, nothing had been shattered by cannon fire.

  “What’s yer plan, Samantha?”

  She kicked aside a rock, watched it tumble across the pier and splash into the water. “We wait until sunrise. If Dervish hasn’t come yet, it will mean he’s changed his course and we’ll have to look elsewhere. In the meantime, Joe, keep your eyes open. I don’t want the Revenge being attacked with the rest of the town. If you see Dervish coming, get her out of here. You can always come back for me later.”

  “And where’ll ye be at?”

  Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t have risked Jacqueline’s life. But she could trust Joe. Still, she stepped closer and whispered to protect her hostess.

  “Luke has a sister, Jacqueline. She’s married to the governor’s brother. We’re staying there.”

  Joe’s eyes bulged from his head. “Are ye both mad?” he bellowed.

  Sam cringed, but a quick glance showed nobody was paying them any mind. “Her husband is at sea at the moment. The place is watched, but I’m safe. Nobody knows Luke is here; he came in through a hidden door.”

  Joe shook his head, not one of his grizzled hairs moving.

  “He’s mad, Samantha. How can he be certain he wasn’t seen?”

  “Because the navy hasn’t stormed the house. I’ll be back in the morning. How are the repairs coming along?”

  He gave her a look that spoke his thoughts plainly; he thought Luke an idiot and Sam a fool. However, he said nothing more about it.

  “Willy has the hole almost sealed. Trevor’s been flitterin’ about restockin’ the galley.”

  “And the sails?”

  He nodded. “Good as new, Captain.”

  The silence stretched as a few navy officers strolled past them. Sam’s nerves jumped to attention. She slapped a hand to her heart to keep it from sinking any lower in her chest.

  “Easy, lass. They don’t know nothin’. Just makin’ their rounds.”

  It took an iron will to move her lips into a fraction of a smile. Joe was right; the men gave cursory nods, checked a few of the boats, and continued on. By then Sam had sweat beading on her upper lip.

  “That’s too close. We have to leave here. Tomorrow, at dawn, one way or the other.” She wiped her hands on her skirt. “When you get back to the ship, tell Aidan to pack his bag.”

  Bushy eyebrows angled d
own, creating deep furrows between Joe’s eyes. “What in blazes fer?”

  “I’m prepared to die for revenge, but I won’t sacrifice a young boy for it.”

  Joe rubbed his large belly. “He’ll be mighty upset about that.”

  “Well, better upset than dead. If a need arises, you can find me at the Kliphorn Manor on Bluebell Street.”

  “Samantha?”

  She sighed. “If it’s about Luke, Joe, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve already made your opinion more than clear.”

  His eyes steeled. “As have ye, lass. But let me tell ye this, I’ve a bad feelin’. I don’t think Dervish is comin’, or that he ever was.”

  Anger straightened her spine. “Luke’s lied to me, is that what you’re saying?”

  Joe stepped back, beefy arms crossed. “Aye. I think he has. And I think he has ye fooled into trustin’ him.”

  It was a thought that had leaped into her own mind, though she’d immediately discarded it. She couldn’t explain Dervish’s absence, but she knew Luke. He wouldn’t lie to her.

  “You’ve forgotten your place, Joe.” It hurt her to say it, hurt even more to see the pain in his eyes. But she wouldn’t let him accuse Luke or herself of anything less than finishing the task they’d begun.

  “Maybe I ’ave, but ye’ve lost yer senses. Ye’ve fallen in love with ’im, Samantha. Haven’t ye?”

  Sam said nothing. She’d never lied to Joe, and wasn’t about to start now.

  “At least ye’ll not be denyin’ it,” he challenged.

  His disgust cut her. He’d never used that tone with her. Chin held high despite the sting around her heart, Sam finished giving her orders. “I’ll speak to Luke’s sister. I’m certain she’ll agree to look after Aidan while we’re gone. Have him on the dock at nine o’clock. One way or another, he’s not coming with us when we go after Dervish. Luke and I,” she said pointedly, “will be back in the morning.”