What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  She blushed, and Luke smiled at the red creeping into her cheeks. She’d pinned her hair behind her ears, but had left the rest of it down. Loose curls hung halfway down her spine. His breath hitched in his throat. She was beautiful. And she was his, at least for tonight.

  The guilt that had grown all day pressed into him again, reminding him of his deceit and the hurt he knew Samantha would feel. He should tell her now, explain himself and his reasons. She’d understand, he told himself. The longer he waited, the more angry she’d be. But watching her, as Pritchard silently served the soup and then left, Luke knew he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not when she looked so at peace, smiling sweetly at him. The way no woman had ever done before.

  And that, he thought as he stirred the chowder, was what Jacqueline saw. He didn’t love Samantha, although he loved some of the things they did together. She simply treated him the way he’d never been treated by a woman before. She stirred his mind as well as his body.

  “What about Pritchard?” she asked.

  “Well, he’s known I was here since last night. Nothing gets past him, I’m afraid.”

  “Aren’t you worried he’ll tell the authorities?”

  Her words seeped into him and wrapped around his heart like a warm hand. Christ, she cared. She was truly worried about him getting caught. Except for his mother and sister, nobody had ever given a damn. The knot in his throat surprised him, and he took his time fussing with bread and butter before he knew he could speak without emotion clogging his voice.

  “Me, he’d betray without a second thought. My sister, however, he’s fiercely loyal to. He hates me, but he won’t tell the navy I’m here. He knows it would break Jacqueline’s heart.”

  Samantha pushed her empty bowl aside, leaned over, and grasped his hand. “It would break mine as well, Luke.”

  Stunned into silence, his chest tight and aching, he squeezed her hand and was relieved of having to answer by Pritchard’s arrival with the next course. When he’d once again disappeared, leaving plates of steaming chicken topped with pineapple, roasted potatoes, and green beans dripping with butter, Luke had found solid ground again.

  “Well, as I don’t plan on hanging anytime soon, we won’t have to worry about that.”

  The meal was delicious. At least he assumed so. Though his plate bore the crumbs to prove he’d eaten, his senses were too full of the woman before him to care about food. Leading her to the couch, he drew her onto his lap. As she cradled in his arms, he traced her cheek with his finger. Liquid brown eyes closed, and she leaned her head against his chest.

  “Luke?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I’ve never felt this safe with anyone.”

  His hand stilled, then dropped like lead to his side. “I’m not perfect, Samantha. Don’t make me out to be something I’m not.”

  She drew back and gazed at him. The affection and acceptance swimming in her eyes scared the hell out of him.

  “I already know what you are. You’re a fine man, Luke.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve drunk too much wine, luv. I’m a pirate.”

  “For now, perhaps. That doesn’t change who you are.”

  Hands softer than the silk that covered his torso slipped inside his shirt to lie over his rapidly beating heart. “In here, Luke, where it really matters, you’re a good person.”

  Tell her, his mind bellowed. This was his chance to prove to her that he wasn’t as she saw him. But he couldn’t. Wounds his stepfather had inflicted on him, wounds that were still raw, healed a little at her words. Surely if such a fine woman thought it, he wasn’t all bad.

  “I’m not what you think,” he said instead.

  With a firm hand she grasped his jaw and held it. Hard. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re a bastard. You may not have a father, but that’s just parentage. It has nothing to do with what you make of yourself.”

  Raw anger gnarled in him and he tried to push Samantha off his lap. How dare Jacqueline tell her something so personal! Samantha, though slight, was far stronger than he gave her credit for. She held fast and refused to budge.

  “Don’t you run from this, Luke,” she scolded.

  “She had no business telling you,” he growled.

  “Maybe not, but she did all the same, and I’m glad she did.”

  Calmly, though her eyes remained wary, she stroked his cheek. “I understand so much more now, Luke.”

  He’d never felt so exposed in his life. And afraid. Could he really believe it didn’t matter to her? “You know it all now, Samantha. The ugly truth doesn’t shame you? You’ve given yourself to a bastard pirate.” He didn’t know what demon made him say it like that, but he needed it all said.

  Then, when he was certain of her feelings, he’d tell her the rest. About Dervish.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and one slid from the corner of her eye.

  “I love you, Luke Bradley. All of you.” She sniffed as more tears slid down her face. “I’m scared of what that means, but it’s the truth.”

  She pressed her forehead to his while her tears left warm smudges on his cheeks. His heart warmed and unfolded within him. He slammed his eye shut. Then, with words choking his throat and burgeoning feelings pressing heavily against his chest, he caught her mouth with his. There was no way to put into words the gratitude, need, and joy he felt. So he showed her the only way he knew how.

  His tongue slipped against hers. Her hands stroked his chest and back, digging into his shoulders. He didn’t deserve her, his stepfather’s voice taunted from the past, but for once Luke ignored him. He needed Samantha, needed her goodness. And dammit, he thought, pulling away to draw a ragged breath, he needed her love.

  “Samantha,” he groaned, and feasted on her mouth again.

  She arched against him. All the hope, love, and tenderness he’d kept locked into his heart poured out. He drew her tightly against him, as much frightened by her declaration as by his own response to it. Their jagged breaths cut through the silence. She stroked his back, he buried his face in her neck and smelled roses. White roses.

  “I can’t breathe,” she gasped into his ear.

  “Sorry.” He sat up and pulled her beside him. Her hair was disheveled, and he tucked a stray silky strand behind her ear. She stroked his thigh and her eyes glowed.

  “We could take this upstairs,” she offered.

  They could, and damned if he didn’t surprise himself by not taking her up on it. But he couldn’t. She’d professed her love, and he knew her enough to know she meant it. And though that humbled him, it also made him realize the time had come to tell her the truth. He couldn’t lie to her a moment longer. She deserved better. And if she was willing to accept him, she had to know it all.

  “Samantha?”

  She smiled, and it twisted around his heart.

  “I asked you, Luke. You don’t have to worry that I’ll change my mind.”

  He raked a hand over his face. “It’s not about going upstairs, luv.” Then, because he was still coward enough not to face her, he strode to the table and gulped down his wine.

  “What, Luke?”

  Her shoes tapped the floor as she moved behind him. He lowered his head, his stomach in knots. His hands shook. Damn it, he’d lied not only to regain his treasure but for her protection as well. Still, he knew it would take some convincing to make her see it that way. And it would kill him to see anger in her eyes. Especially now.

  “Luke?” she asked, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

  He took a deep breath.

  Pritchard knocked, then stepped into the room. “Pardon me, miss, but you’ve a guest.”

  “Bloody hell, man. Tell them we’re busy,” Luke growled. He’d finally worked up his nerve, and he didn’t want to waste it.

  The butler frowned. “I’ve tried. The man is most adamant to see Miss Fine.” Pritchard turned to Samantha. “He said his name is Joe.”

  Samantha turned to Luke. “It must be news of Dervish,” she
whispered, her eyes filled with hope. Then, louder, she asked Pritchard to send him in.

  “Oh, Luke, this is it! We’ve finally found him!”

  Luke took a deep breath, wishing desperately it was true. If Dervish had come, by some stroke of luck, then he needn’t hurt Samantha with his lie.

  Joe, chest heaving and cheeks ruddy, stepped through the doors a scant moment after the butler opened them. As soon as Pritchard left, closing them behind him, Joe raced to Samantha.

  “We’ve trouble, lass,” he puffed.

  “What, Joe? What’s happened?”

  To Luke’s shock, she clasped his hand and held fast. Luke squeezed back, telling her silently that he’d do anything for her.

  “When I took Aidan to the docks, I overheard some sailors talking.” He stopped, swallowed.

  Dread crept up Luke’s spine like a slithery snake.

  “Tell me, Joe,” Samantha urged.

  “They was talkin’ about Sam Steele.” Watery blue eyes cut to Luke’s. “They was sayin’ how word’s been gettin’ about that Sam Steele isn’t what people thought.”

  Samantha’s hand went cold and limp in Luke’s.

  “What were they saying?” she whispered.

  Joe faced his captain, every crease and wrinkle gouged deep with worry.

  “They was sayin’, Samantha, that it’s possible Steele’s really a woman.”

  Thirteen

  “My God, Joe. How could they possibly know?” Sam asked, releasing Luke’s hand and starting to pace.

  She’d been lucky up to now that her identity had remained hidden. Now that it was revealed . . . She stopped pacing, her heart hammering in her chest. Now that it was known, she could hang before finding Dervish.

  “I’ll tell ye, lass. Bradley’s told ’em.”

  Sam spun around. “For what purpose, Joe? He has nothing to gain by revealing my identity.”

  An angry flush turned Joe’s neck and face the color of overripe tomatoes. His meaty hands curled—ready, Sam was certain, to pummel Luke into a fine powder. Luke didn’t move, but kept a steady eye on Joe.

  “I’m not knowin’ any reason, but there’s no one else, lass. The rest of us ’ave been together fer years and word hasn’t spread. Then Bradley comes strollin’ along an’ all hell’s breakin’ loose.”

  “What the blazes are you talking about, man?” Luke asked.

  Sam and Joe stared each other down. She knew what Joe was talking about. Before Luke, they’d been close. Before Luke, he was the man she’d trusted, the one she’d turned to. This was the second time she’d sided with Luke. She understood the hurt pulsing in Joe’s eyes. It was the disgust that followed on its heels that hurt her to the bone.

  “Joe,” she said calmly, “I can’t explain it. I’ve been as careful this voyage as on any other. I don’t know how anyone can figure I’m Steele.”

  “Because he told ’em!” Joe raged, slamming his fist on a side table hard enough to catapult Luke’s empty glass across the room. It exploded against the papered wall.

  “If I were to reveal anyone,” Luke said, stepping toward Joe, “I’d say you were Steele. Then I’d finally be rid of you and your unfounded suspicions.”

  Joe pushed back his torn sleeves, the muscles on his thick arms twitching. “I’ll be showin’ ye suspicions, Bradley. Right in yer bloody face!”

  Luke spread his legs and braced himself. His hands coiled at his sides.

  Sam had had enough. She stepped between a snarling Joe and an irritated Luke. “This is ridiculous. Drawing blood and breaking bones won’t accomplish anything. The point isn’t who said anything, but what we’re going to do about it.”

  Joe shoved her aside.

  “I’ll tell ye the point. ’Tis time we’re rid of Bradley.”

  He swung. Luke ducked. He swung again. Luke side-stepped and dodged the hit. With spit foaming at the corners of his mouth, Joe reached out, grabbed the candelabra, and pitched it at Luke. The silver bounced off the wall, leaving a large notch in the plaster.

  “Joe!” Sam screamed. “That’s enough!”

  He ignored her and reached for the bottle of wine. Her screams remained unanswered. Luke, circling Joe like a wolf that had cornered its prey, was no help. Sam knew she had to do something before Joe turned the house to ruins. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a chair and ran between the men, holding them apart by a mere four spindly legs.

  “Out of the way, woman,” Joe warned, taking another two steps to the left to keep Luke right in front of him.

  “That’s enough, Joe. Now sit down and calm yourself, or I’ll break this chair over your thick head. Maybe that will knock some sense into you.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Luke grumbled.

  “I’ve had it. Let me at ’im,” Joe spat.

  Cursing, Sam raised the chair over her head. “I’ve warned you, Joe—”

  To Sam’s mortification, that was the moment Jacqueline chose to burst into the room.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Jacqueline. There’s no excuse I can give you that explains that kind of behavior.”

  Alone in her bedroom, Sam jammed the few belongings she’d brought into her bag. She’d never acted so foolishly in all her life, and to be caught in the throes of it by a woman she respected was more than embarrassing. It was mortifying.

  Jacqueline chuckled. “There’s nothing to apologize for. With Daniel away, this house can be most confining. Having you here has definitely”—she paused, biting her lip—“well, it’s livened things up, hasn’t it?”

  Sam winced, tucked the last item away, then dropped the bag by the door. “I’ll see to it that all damages are taken care of.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it is. You welcomed me into your home, treated me better than you should have, considering who I—” Sam caught herself in time and bit her tongue to keep it quiet.

  Jacqueline smiled warmly. “I won’t lie to you, Samantha. Since Luke brought you here I’ve been bursting to know just who you are and what you are to him.”

  “There’s nothing to know. Luke is simply helping me with a favor.”

  To Sam’s utter surprise, Jacqueline burst out laughing. “Samantha, there isn’t a simple bone in Luke’s body.” She patted the bed next to her. “Please sit a moment.”

  “I really need to be going,” Sam said.

  Jacqueline looked over her shoulder, through the small rectangular window. Outside, night enveloped Barbados in its large black cloak. She faced Sam again. “There’s time to talk. If it’s the cover of darkness you need, it’s still going to be there in ten minutes.”

  Something in Jacqueline’s firm tone unnerved Sam, as though she knew the reason she was running. Which, of course, wasn’t possible. However, Luke’s sister was right, she could spare a few minutes. With a tepid smile, Sam sat.

  “Since time is of the essence, I’ll get right to it. What are you and Luke up to?”

  It didn’t get any more blunt than that, Sam figured. Which didn’t mean she had to answer truthfully. She would not further endanger Jacqueline with the truth about the woman she’d welcomed into her home. Still, lying to her face didn’t sit well.

  Sam focused on the brooch at Jacqueline’s neck. “Luke is a friend of my brother’s. As a favor to my brother, who is deathly ill at home, I agreed to help Luke get to Havana.”

  “By way of Barbados? Come, Samantha, an intelligent woman such as yourself can come up with a better lie, can’t you?”

  Sam gaped, knowing she’d given herself away. Ashamed, she hung her head. Jacqueline shifted on the bed and drew Sam’s cold hands between her much warmer ones.

  “We’ve little enough time, let’s not waste it lying.”

  Tears threatened to flow, but Sam fiercely held them back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t tell you. I won’t endanger you.”

  Jacqueline squeezed Sam’s fingers. “My brother’s a pirate and I married the governor’s brother. What could be more dangero
us than that?”

  “I’m sorry. It must be an uncomfortable situation.”

  “It can be,” Jacqueline acknowledged.

  “Then I won’t burden you with any more.”

  “Honestly, you and Luke! Do I look like some fragile flower that must be sheltered from all life’s turbulent weather?”

  Sam raised her head. No, Jacqueline didn’t look fragile. Her skin was a light bronze from the tropical sun. Her green eyes shone with intelligence and compassion. And the grip that still held Sam’s fingers as prisoners was anything but frail.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Then trust that I can share whatever it is you’re doing without my knees buckling.”

  Sam smiled; the picture of Luke’s sister falling faint wouldn’t form in her mind. It was tempting to tell Jacqueline everything, to unburden herself. But that was selfish, and not fair to her hostess.

  “You need more convincing, then?” Jacqueline asked. “Very well. I knew, have known all along, that Luke was hiding treasure in my cellar.”

  Sam gasped again. Jacqueline smiled.

  “You knew?”

  “Of course I did. Luke would never come here if he had other options. He’s always been very protective of me. When he left, I searched through this house, knowing he must have hidden something. It took nearly three days, but I found it.” She beamed.

  Sam grinned. Poor Luke was so sure he’d hidden the truth from his sister. “You’ve never told him you knew?”

  “Of course not, there’s no fun in that. It’s much better to watch him scramble, to see which story he’ll weave next.”

  Sam’s tension bubbled over in a gale of laughter. If Luke only knew. She looked at his sister then, really looked at her. Jacqueline sat, hands folded in her lap, dark gaze patiently waiting. Sam wiped the laughter from the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “What do you know?”

  Jacqueline shrugged, the lamplight shining in her dark hair.

  “That Luke escaped jail. That the two of you arrived at my home, both trying to hide the fact that you have very deep feelings for each other.” She leaned forward. “That you’re unhappy.”