What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  Air stuck in her chest, making breathing difficult. How could a stranger know so much about her?

  “Samantha, I’ve agreed to take in the boy, Aidan. I’ve already promised to look after him until you come back, and longer if necessary.” She grasped her wrist. “Do I not deserve to know why? Don’t you think I could better protect Aidan and myself if I knew it all?”

  Every argument Jacqueline had spoken had been like a wave slamming against a dam. With her last plea, the barrier crumbled. Praying she wasn’t about to make the worst mistake of her life, Sam told Luke’s sister the whole ugly truth, from her family to Dervish to Mr. Grant. She hadn’t meant to let it all out, but once she started, it flowed freely. And when it was over, Sam felt as though a terrible weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  Jacqueline wiped tears from Sam’s cheeks. Tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. Then, to Sam’s great shock, she wiped her own eyes.

  “I told Luke there was no way you were a pirate. I’m glad to know I was right.” Jacqueline sniffed.

  “I think the navy would argue with you that Sam Steele is indeed a pirate.”

  “Not in here.” Jacqueline laid her hand over her heart. “Not where it matters most.”

  Fresh tears clouded Sam’s eyes. She shook her head. “I really need to be going now. I can’t thank you enough, for everything.”

  Jacqueline followed Sam to the door. “Just come back alive, Samantha. That will be thanks enough.”

  They hugged as sisters would, long and full of unspoken emotions.

  “Godspeed, Samantha. Please be careful.”

  Sam nodded. With a last smile, she went downstairs.

  “I’m tired of being left behind.” Aidan raged.

  Sam had wanted a last word with the boy—the young man—who had come to mean so much to her. She’d never had a brother, but had she been so lucky, he would have been a mirror image of the lad before her. Only he wouldn’t be spitting mad, wouldn’t be yelling at her, and wouldn’t be refusing to listen to reason.

  “Aidan, I’ve explained all this. You’re young; you have a long life ahead of you. So much promise. I won’t ruin that.”

  “Why did you take me from Mr. Grant if you were only going to lock me away?”

  Sam counted to three. “I’m not locking you away. I’m keeping you safe.”

  “I don’t want to be here! I want to be on the Revenge.”

  “You will be, when it’s all over. When I come back for you.”

  Blue eyes flashed. “If you come back.”

  Sam sighed and sat on the arm of the thick chair. “I can’t promise you I’ll be back, Aidan, which is why I won’t allow you to come along. You’re too young to die, and I won’t have you hurt when I can prevent it.”

  Hands caught somewhere between manhood and boyhood clenched at his sides. “I’d rather die than hide away here. I can do this, Sam. Let me go.”

  Weary from her confession to Luke, her fight with Joe, and her talk with Jacqueline, Sam rubbed her hands over her face. She knew she was trampling the boy’s pride, but pride could mend. A dead body couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry. My decision is made, and I won’t change it. Jacqueline will look after you until we return.”

  Blood poured into Aidan’s face. “Why do you always treat me like a baby? I’m not old enough to go into Tortuga; I can’t be left alone on the ship. When will I be treated like the rest of them?”

  It was the perfect opportunity to tell him; there would be no better, and Sam knew it. But after years of holding back, blocking memories of her sister and what losing that bond had done to her spirit, Sam found the words sticking like tar in her throat. In her heart he was her family, hers to protect. She’d had no chance to save Alicia, nor her parents. Sam’s will snapped back into place. No, she hadn’t saved them, but by God she would spare this wonderful lad.

  “You’re staying,” she said.

  Tears of anger and embarrassment pooled in his eyes. “I hate you!”

  His words, though spoken in heat, sliced through her. Each letter had its own ragged blade that cut into her heart. She hated seeing the hurt and pain in his eyes. Cursed herself for being the one to put it there. It didn’t matter that she knew to the depths of her soul that she was doing the right thing. She’d hurt the last person she’d ever intended to. And because she couldn’t bear to face him as Samantha, she did what she’d learned to do best.

  She hid behind Steele.

  “Well, Aidan,” she said, standing. “You can hate me all you like. Indeed, I can’t stop you. But I can keep you alive. And as your captain, I expect you to listen to Jacqueline as you have to me.”

  The boy shook with rage. His eyes squinted, shooting silent curses. And though each glare sank into her heart, she bit the inside of her cheek and grabbed her bag.

  “Don’t bother coming back for me. I won’t sail with you ever again!”

  Helpless, she watched Aidan race up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “Please, God, let him forgive me,” Sam prayed.

  Then, taking a deep breath, she went to the secret door Jacqueline had shown her earlier.

  Luke’s stomach was in knots. Samantha was on her way to the Revenge. As soon as he caught up with her, he’d have to tell her the truth about Dervish. He raked his hands through his hair. Damn! How had he gotten himself in so deep?

  “Am I always going to have to say good-bye to you, with no idea when I’ll get to say hello again?” his sister asked from behind him.

  Luke sighed, turned. “I don’t have an answer to that.” Jacqueline nodded, her eyes shining.

  “Don’t let Dervish harm her any more than he already has.”

  Luke’s head snapped back. “You know about him?”

  Jacqueline sighed. “Yes, and about your bloody treasure and how she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.” She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Have I forgotten anything?”

  “Bloody hell,” he said and mussed his hair again. “She told you everything.”

  “No, she didn’t, Luke. I’m not as simple as you seem to think. The treasure I knew about; she told me the rest. What happens after you find Dervish?”

  Luke longed for a drink. Or two. “First I have to tell her I lied about knowing where he was.” He told his sister the story, and when he’d finished, he’d never felt so disgusted with himself. He kicked the bag he’d set on the floor. It rolled and bounced off the opposite wall, coins clanging inside.

  “Your bloody father was right.”

  His sister stepped toward him. He knew the slow, controlled movement was a warning that her anger was under tight rein. Her eyes flashed and her lips were pinched.

  “You may be an idiot at times, Luke, but you’ve never been a bastard.”

  “I am what I am, and you can’t change that.”

  Jacqueline grabbed him by the forearms and shook him harder than he’d ever expected she could. Mutiny flashed in her eyes.

  “Stupid is what you are at the moment. I’ve told you thousands of times you’re a good man. When are you going to start believing it?”

  “I haven’t done anything good for Samantha.” The truth of that weighed heavily on his mind and his heart.

  “You planned a lovely dinner for her tonight.”

  He rolled his eye. “With your food, your home, and your hired help. What, exactly,” he sneered, “did I do that was so fine?”

  “You’ve no intention of fighting for her, have you?”

  “I’ll help her with her goal; after that, I’m taking my ship and doing what I do best.”

  She stamped her foot on the floor, narrowly missing his own. “Piracy is not what you do best!” she raged.

  His gaze leveled with hers. “Yes, it is. For a few days I forgot that—easy enough to do in such a fine house. But a gentleman I’m not, Jacqueline.”

  Nor would he ever be. He’d never blend in with the locals, never be content within four walls. For a brief
time he’d allowed himself to enjoy a fine woman in a fancy house, to pretend he wasn’t wanted by every military man in the Caribbean. But the truth was, he belonged at sea. He was a pirate, and a pirate was the last thing Samantha needed.

  With the air suddenly heavy in his lungs, Luke gave his sister a quick embrace. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be back . . .” Shame poured through him when Jacqueline’s chin quivered. “As soon as I can.”

  “You can’t lose her! She’s perfect for you.”

  “Stop it!” he yelled, though he couldn’t have said who he was angry at. “I have to go.” He jerked his bag off the floor. “Keep the boy safe, he means the world to Samantha.”

  Though he turned his back, he could hear the tears in her voice and knew they were coursing down her cheeks. Maybe he shouldn’t come back here either.

  “You mean the world to her, Luke.”

  He hesitated at the door, bracing himself on the strong wood for a moment. Then, without a glance back, he walked out into the night.

  Samantha raced onto the beach, her lungs burning. Sweat clung to her brow. Her hair stuck in damp knots to the base of her neck. She’d run most of the way, keeping to the trees, jumping and darting over protruding branches. More than once she’d slipped on the mossy undergrowth, clawed through the dampness to grab a vine or bough in order to keep her balance. Fear, not one to be left behind, had prowled behind her, its icy fingers stretching toward her. Its cackle had echoed in the squawks and screams of night creatures disturbed from their hunts.

  Sam stopped running when her feet sank into the sand. By the time she reached the dock, her breathing was normal. Luke arrived a few minutes later.

  “Doesn’t look like we were followed,” Luke said, hardly gasping at all.

  The beach was quiet. There were no gulls scavenging in the bay, no animals complaining about being lifted onto ships, no sailors with the call of the sea shining in their eyes. Instead, the stars winked down from the clear sky. From the bullrushes down the beach, crickets and frogs played a soothing melody. The water, still as glass, mirrored the half moon above. The few ships that floated just offshore remained dark and at rest, their sails tucked in for the night. The smaller boats tied at the docks rocked sleepily, their oars, like frail arms, crossed over their wooden benches.

  “Well, for that, at least, we can be thankful. Let’s go.”

  They pushed the boat away from the sand. The water was warm and sucked at the hem of Samantha’s skirt. When they were both soaked from the knees down, they climbed in. Luke took the oars.

  “Hand me one, Luke. I’ll help row,” Samantha offered.

  “I’ve got it,” he answered, and cut the paddles into the dark liquid.

  Sam huffed out a breath. “I think I can manage a small boat. I can, after all, sail my own ship. Remember?”

  “It’s bloody impossible to forget,” he muttered.

  She searched his face but saw no evidence of humor. His jaw was set and he rowed in a smooth, powerful rhythm. He’d rolled up his sleeves in deference to the balmy night, and the muscles in his forearms strained with each stroke of the oars.

  There was something going on with Luke, and whatever it was had him in knots. She’d seen him angry, frustrated, and arrogant, but not like this.

  “When we get back on the Revenge, things will have to remain as they were. Until Dervish is finished,” she added when his gaze cut to hers.

  The oars finally stilled, though Luke kept his hands tightly curled around them. His gaze was too dark to read, but Sam felt surrender and pain in the steady way he stared at her.

  “Luke.” She reached for him.

  He shook his head. “We’re here.”

  She hadn’t realized the progress they’d made until the small boat tapped the hull of her ship. Carefully, she stood and moved to the ladder. Luke was beside her, his hand a tender aid on her waist as her foot pressed against the bottom rung. She faced her lover, the man she trusted with her life. Placing a hand on his cheek, she wondered at the apology that was all but written in the depth of his eye.

  He seemed to pull himself away. “Your ship’s waiting.”

  “I love you,” she answered, and longed to wrap her arms around him. To find comfort again in his embrace. To wipe away the gnawing feeling that life was once again going to dump her on her backside.

  His gaze bored into hers, his jaw flexed. “We’ll see.”

  Joe’s head popped over the gunwale. “It’s about bloody time, lass. I won’t feel better until we’re well away from ’ere.”

  Sam climbed on board her ship, Luke two steps behind. Joe must have alerted the crew, because all hands were on deck, awaiting her orders.

  “Where are ye headed now?” Joe asked.

  “Dervish must have sustained some damage in the storm. We’ll head back the way we came.”

  The crew grumbled. They were sailing in circles. They’d never find Dervish. What good was a pocket full of money if they weren’t ashore long enough to spend it? But Sam hadn’t come this far to tuck her tail and quit now. She stepped away from Luke, past Joe.

  “You’ve all agreed, and I have the signed articles to prove you were in accord. If you’ve changed your mind, you’ve only to take the boat to shore. Those of you who still want to sail under my command, you’ve five minutes to get to your stations. Then we sail back toward Tortuga.”

  “He’s not there,” Luke said from behind her.

  Sam spun around. “We’ve got to look somewhere. They must have suffered serious damage in the storm, otherwise they’d be here.”

  “They were ahead of us. They likely missed the worst of it.”

  Her temper rose quickly. Her identity was no longer safe. Dervish wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Her crew was questioning her leadership, and now the man who was supposed to stand at her side was challenging her in front of her crew. She glared at Luke.

  “Then where is he?”

  Luke hesitated, swallowed. “Santa Placidia.”

  “How the blazes could ye know that?” Joe spat, coming to stand next to Sam.

  A chill slithered over Sam’s skin. Before his lips formed the words, she knew.

  “Because that’s where he’s been heading all along.”

  The crew’s enraged curses rose up like an angry swell. Joe sucked air in great gulps. Though it felt as though the deck had been yanked from beneath her feet, Sam managed to step in front of Joe before he could lunge at Luke. She didn’t, however, attempt to hide the betrayal she felt.

  “You lied this whole time. Why?” she asked. “For your bloody treasure?”

  Luke fingered his patch. It brought Sam back to Jacqueline’s parlor, where she’d kissed his missing eye. Where she’d made love to him. Where she’d realized she loved him. Bitter tears burned her eyes, but she forced them back. She wanted to see his lying face clearly.

  He hesitated another moment, licked his lips as though he was deciding how much of the truth he had to tell.

  “It wasn’t all about the treasure, Samantha. When Captain told me Dervish was headed to Santa Placidia, I told you it was Barbados to give you a better chance. A fighting chance.” He took a step forward.

  Joe growled and pushed at Sam, but she stood firm.

  “So Dervish was never coming to Barbados?” Sam echoed.

  Luke held out his hand, then dropped it when Sam wouldn’t even look at it. “Captain said Dervish’s ship was slowing down. He was heading to Santa Placidia to careen it. I knew the best way for you to get your revenge without sacrificing your life was to wait until Dervish had beached his ship. Since that allowed us time to spare, I had you stop here.”

  Sam stood frozen, trying to comprehend it all. “He’s been within a half-day’s sail from us for the last two days?”

  Luke nodded. Suddenly Sam was desperate for a bath, to scrape her skin raw until there was no remnant of Luke Bradley on it. She’d opened her heart and shared her body. All with a bloody, filthy pirate who’d used her f
or his own purposes.

  “It was all for nothing,” she said.

  Luke’s gaze turned to steel. “It wasn’t nothing, Samantha.”

  He reached for her, but Joe, bless him, moved around to her side. His hand cupped her shoulder, offering his strength.

  “Well, Bradley, you must be very pleased. You’ve got your bloody freedom and your treasure.”

  Luke’s lips were a flat, angry line. Bitterness, hurt, and raw energy swirled in the air between them.

  “From the beginning, I admit it was about the treasure. But after—”

  Sam cut him off. Her heart couldn’t take any more of his lies.

  “You’re not only selfish, you’re heartless, Luke. Joe was right. I’m sorry I listened to the wrong man.”

  Luke snarled. From the corner of her eye she saw Joe nod.

  Cold and filled with a searing pain, Sam knew she had to get away from Luke before she lost her battle with her emotions.

  She grabbed one of the pistols that Joe had tucked in his sash. With thoughts of betrayal churning in her mind, she aimed the weapon at Luke.

  “Get off my ship.”

  “Samantha—”

  “That’s Captain Steele, damn you. And I said get off.”

  “You’d shoot the man you love?” Luke asked.

  It was a dirty tactic. The pistol wavered. Of course she couldn’t; they both knew it. “Jump, Luke. We’re not so far off you’ll need a ship to rescue you this time. I’ll even let you keep your other eye.”

  His jaw flexed. She’d brought up the betrayal by Dervish purposely, and still the mutiny he’d survived on that pirate’s ship couldn’t have hurt any worse than she was hurting right now.

  Joe drew his sword, the blade shining bright and lethal in the moonlight.

  “Capt’n may not have the heart to shoot ye, Bradley, but I’ve no problem with carvin’ ye up. Get off her bloody ship before I have the pleasure of doin’ just that and feedin’ ye to the sharks.”

  Sam lowered her pistol. Her eyes were swimming now as Luke pleaded silently for another chance. She shook her head.

  “Joe, hate me all you will,” Luke said, turning his attention to her first mate, “but going into a battle against Dervish, even at his most vulnerable, is a foolish mistake. You can’t afford to lose any help at this point.”