What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  “Get off,” Joe thundered. From behind him the crew chanted for Luke to be thrown in the water.

  “Use your head, man. Do you really want her killed?”

  Sam’s heart and thoughts were racing. It would have done her pride good to heave Luke overboard. But Steele was successful because feelings weren’t allowed to get in the way of the goal. And no matter how much it hurt to have Luke this close, knowing she meant nothing to him, that what they’d done together had been little more than a way to pass the time, she couldn’t argue. He was right. Dervish was, and always had been, her first priority. To achieve that, she needed Luke.

  “Off with ye, now.” Joe stalked forward, blade pointed at Luke’s heart.

  “You could use another gun.” Luke tried again, though he was backed against the gunwale and the crew was urging Joe on.

  “We’ll take our chances,” Joe said.

  “Luke stays,” she said, and every man on deck became silent, every gaze jumped to her.

  “But lass,” Joe argued.

  “Only until we kill Dervish.” Her gaze sliced to Luke. “Then, Joe, you can make him walk the plank for all I care.”

  Fourteen

  Squawk. “Man in cabin. Man in cabin.”

  “Bloody bird,” Joe grumbled. Then, belying his words, he poked a thick finger through the bars so he could scratch Carracks’s neck. Had the animal been a cat, he would have purred.

  Sam didn’t bother summoning up a smile. Both she and Joe knew she wasn’t in the mood for pretending. Joe came to the table where Sam had been sitting for the last hour, despite tingles that ran up her legs and numbed her backside.

  “We’re on course, lass. Should be arriving in Santa Placidia not long after sunrise.” The chair groaned under Joe’s weight as he sat.

  Sam spun the empty tin cup Trevor had shyly brought her shortly after weighing anchor. She watched the dregs of coffee make muddy circles in the bottom of the cup. There were too many words, too many apologies stuck in her throat, to answer. She nodded.

  “Don’t matter what’s happen’d, lass. We’ll be findin’ Dervish now and make him pay for what he done to yer family. ’Tis all that’s important.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat along with what remained of her pride. “It matters to me, Joe. I believed Luke over you.” She slammed her fist down. “I believed a filthy, lying pirate over a man I’ve known most of my life.” She rubbed her aching temples. “How could I have been so blind? And why are you smiling?”

  “That’s me lass. Ye’ve never let anyone get ye down fer long. Picked yerself up by the bootstraps, ye have. Glad to see yer doin’ it again.”

  “Joe, I was a fool. I should have listened to you.”

  “Ahh.” He waved a meaty hand in the air. “ ’Tis over. We’ve got ourselves more important things to think of than Bradley. Besides,” he added with grin, “I’ve taken care of ’im.”

  Although she’d already cried enough to flood her ship, fresh tears gathered and fell silently. “I’m sorry, Joe.”

  He ran a hand down his face, the coarse bristles of his beard scraping the calluses of his palm.

  “Don’t ye even think on it, lass. We’ve got a few more hours yet. Why don’t ye try to get some rest?”

  Sam glanced at her berth, but in her mind she saw Luke lying there, holding her after the battle with the merchant ship. She could feel his arms around her, could smell the sea on his skin. “I can’t sleep. I’ll be up soon.”

  Joe unfolded his large body from the chair. “Take the time ye need. I’ve got yer ship under control.”

  The stairs protested under his weight but supported him as he raised the hatch and disappeared on deck. Sam took a deep breath, letting her head fall back onto the chair. In a few hours, Dervish would really be dead. Then she’d be saying good-bye to Luke for good. A sob escaped her lips.

  “How do I begin?” she asked a twittering Carracks. “How can I possibly forget about Luke?”

  Squawk. “Captain fancies Luke. Captain fancies Luke.”

  Hearing Luke’s words from the mouth of her parrot, Sam pinched her eyes closed and wept.

  It took all her fortitude to step onto the deck, but she refused to hide in her cabin. And she refused to give Luke that kind of power. He’d wounded her, so much that every breath she took required all the energy she could summon, but he hadn’t broken her. It would take more than Luke Bradley to break Sam Steele.

  Still, when she saw him standing next to one of the guns, gazing out to sea, her step faltered. She muttered a few curses his way and felt some of her strength come back, even knowing he couldn’t hear her over the waves and wind.

  “Where’s Joe?” she asked Willy, who was at the helm.

  “He went below to fetch some coffee and tell Trevor not to bother fixing the afternoon meal. In case . . .” He shrugged.

  She sighed and took the helm, forcing herself to look Willy in the eye.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, turned to leave, then turned back. “You’re a damn fine captain. Luke lied to us; you never did. We know the difference. There’s no blame being laid at your feet.”

  Before she could say anything, Willy was gone, moving to the bow where the rest of her crew were sharpening swords and cleaning their pistols. Extra shots were being divided up and the guns loaded.

  Despite her determination to ignore him, her eyes sought Luke again. He wasn’t helping her men get ready. Just as well, considering they wouldn’t appreciate his services anyway. Instead, he remained focused on the horizon, which was now shifting to a paler blue. The wind caught in his hair and ruffled it about. On a woman it would look a fright. On Luke, it was breathtaking.

  “Stop it!” she commanded herself.

  She’d changed into trousers prior to coming on deck and had tucked a pistol and a blunderbuss into her sash. She reached for one now, recognizing the pistol when her palm folded around the grip. Feeling the weapon helped her concentrate on what was important. Dervish. Only Dervish.

  Still, she knew when Luke finally moved from the gunwale, when he stepped to the bowsprit as pink tinged the sky. And when he turned and finally looked her way, he caught her watching him.

  “There it is,” Sam whispered, and wiped sweaty hands down the length of her thighs. Her heartbeat rang so loud in her ears she was sure it had moved up from her chest. She rolled her shoulders, the restlessness within her clawing like a tiger tearing apart its supper. All for what stretched out before her.

  The Devil’s Wrath lay heeled over, tilted on its side in the tranquil green blue sea.

  “She don’t look so good,” Joe muttered from her side.

  He was right. Even from a distance Sam saw holes in the hull. Thick green algae clung like leeches to the bottom of the ship. The sails were down and the masts looked as weathered and beaten as the rest of the ship.

  On the beach, cannons, barrels, spare sails, and crates had been brought ashore and now littered the white sand. One goat and three chickens complained loudly from their temporary lodgings at the edge of the water.

  Some of Dervish’s crew were chest deep in the water, chiseling at the layers of muck that impeded the speed of their ship. Others, bare arms gleaming with sweat, hammered as they repaired holes and replaced rotten boards. So far nobody had noticed the stealthy approach of an unexpected ship.

  “I hate to say it, lass, but Luke was right. Our chances are much better this way.”

  Joe stood next to her at the bow, his gaze skimming the beach. Even though Luke wasn’t looking her way and wouldn’t see it, Sam glared at him. Keeping him from her mind was proving to be an extreme battle, a battle she was losing. Each time she thought she’d managed it, the memories came bounding back. Gnashing her teeth, Sam turned back toward the shore.

  “Where do you suppose Dervish is?” she asked.

  “Could be anywhere. Oh, damn, lass. I think they’ve spotted us.”

  “Stay alert, men, they’ve seen us,” Sam
said as she slipped her pistol into her hand.

  Behind her she heard the crew move to their positions and the unmistakable sound of hammers being drawn back. A flag of truce didn’t guarantee anything, especially with that pack of mongrels.

  “How are ye feelin’, lass?”

  “Like a cannonball just dropped into my belly.”

  On shore, a handful of men had grabbed their muskets and aimed them at the ship. The rest of the crew remained in the water, hammers quiet, eyes crinkled almost shut in deference to the sun that was beating down on their sunburned faces.

  “We’re close enough. Drop the anchor.”

  The loud splash carried in the silent bay.

  With a mouth drier than cotton, Sam yelled, “We’re coming ashore. We don’t want anything but to see your captain. If you fire your weapons, we’ll respond likewise, and your ship will be blasted to pieces.”

  She waited, not daring to breathe, until she was certain they weren’t going to open fire, though they didn’t lower their weapons.

  “Let’s go. If anyone moves, shoot them,” Sam said loud enough for her voice to carry over the short distance between the ships. She didn’t bother hiding the fact that she was a woman. Either she’d die on this beach or she’d have the chance to start a fresh life. Whichever happened, Steele would not be leaving Santa Placidia this day.

  “Joe, Willy, come with me. The rest of you, don’t let your guard down,” Sam said.

  “Lass,” Joe said, taking her arm. “Ye need to be careful. Ye can’t reveal who ye really are.”

  “Why not? Steele’s going to die today, Joe, one way or another.”

  “Aye, lass. But if we live, ye don’t want anyone after ye for revenge of their own. Let me be Steele.”

  Sam hesitated. God, she was tired.

  “All right, Joe. You can be Steele.”

  He nodded, then with weapons firmly held high, they jumped into the chest-deep water. Another splash followed theirs, but Sam didn’t bother looking. She knew it was Luke. Having finally succeeded in setting her feelings aside for the time being, she was glad Luke had followed. He, too, knew what Dervish looked like and it wouldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes looking for him. Flanked by the three of them, she waded toward the beach.

  The water slowed their movement, but the sandy bottom enabled a steady pace without the fear of slipping. Sam’s gaze darted about.

  “Do you see him, Willy?” Sam asked.

  Willy, another survivor who’d actually seen Dervish that night five years ago, looked up and down the beach, then back at the men in the water. Frustrated, he ran fingers through his hair and faced her. Words weren’t necessary.

  “You don’t, do you?”

  “No, Captain.”

  “How about you, Luke? Anything?”

  Luke’s jaw was set. “No, but I didn’t expect him to be sitting on the beach. Even if he didn’t see us coming, he wouldn’t be making himself an open target. He’s here, though”—his gaze penetrated hers—“of that I’m sure.”

  “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” she snapped, not about to let him forget the lies he’d already led her to believe.

  They trudged ashore, their boots gurgling with every step, and stopped before three of the worst-smelling, vile creatures she’d ever seen. And considering the quality of men she’d come across in the last five years, that was saying something.

  If there was such a thing as rotting alive, these men were doing it. Clothes hung limply, so torn and dirty it was impossible to tell their original color. Their hair was as lifeless as their eyes, which had no shine to them at all.

  The sun scorched the back of her head. Sweat ran in sticky trails down her spine. Inside her chest a storm raged. Where was Dervish? Was he hiding in the thick underbrush, pistol aimed at them? Since stealing Grant’s ship, she hadn’t lost any member of her crew. There had been wounds and sicknesses, but nobody had died in battle. She realized then just how unusually fortunate she’d been in that regard, and hoped the day hadn’t come when her good fortune dried up.

  Sam opened her mouth to ask the nearest corpselike man where his captain was, but before she could speak, he turned to Luke.

  “I see the sharks spared ya.” He grinned, black teeth poking from between his cracked lips.

  Luke shrugged. “It takes a very refined palate to appreciate something as fine as me, Copper. Apparently sharks don’t have one.”

  The man named Copper laughed, a sound similar to rubbing two pine cones together. Sam hastened back to the reason she was there.

  “Copper, we need to see Dervish at once. Where is he?”

  Her words did nothing more than draw the pirate’s slimy gaze up and down her body before he once again turned to Luke.

  “You’re after Dervish? Why?” he asked Luke.

  Again Luke shrugged. “I’ve a proposition for him,” he lied.

  Something in Sam snapped. It was bad enough she was being ignored by Copper, but to have Luke simply take over as though she wasn’t there sent her blood into a raging boil. He was damn lucky she’d allowed him to come along to Santa Placidia, instead of listening to her crew and heaving him headfirst into the ocean. Ever since she’d taken him onto her ship he’d refused to acknowledge that she was the captain, a damn fine one. This might not be the place for her wounded pride to stand tall and fight back, but she was so furious she couldn’t help herself.

  “Actually, it’s I who needs to speak with Dervish. Luke is only here to—”

  “Got yourself a right sassy one this time, eh, Luke?”

  “You know how it is, mate. I can’t keep them off of me.”

  If it wouldn’t have hurt her cause to do it, she’d have shot both Luke and Copper on the spot.

  “I’m Captain Sam Steele”—she spoke loudly but slowly, glaring at both Luke and Copper—“and I demand to see Dervish. Now.”

  Copper looked at her as though she’d sprung an extra head, but at least she’d finally gotten his attention.

  “Nice try, girlie. But Sam Steele is no woman.”

  “That’s right,” Joe acknowledged. “I’m Steele and I need to see your captain.”

  Copper scratched his hair. It surprised Sam that an army of moths didn’t flutter out of the mangled nest that covered his scalp. Copper looked back to Luke. “Captain’s out of sorts. He don’t want no company.”

  Nerves singing, Sam wiped a trickle of sweat that had crept its way to her right eyebrow. She’d thought to come ashore, shoot Dervish, and get out. Wasting time talking hadn’t been in her plans. Feeling as though she’d been standing there for hours, rather than minutes, Sam drew her weapon.

  To her left, seemingly from nowhere, two more of Dervish’s men appeared, pistols drawn and no doubt loaded as they took aim at Luke and Willy. Luke muttered from her side. She couldn’t hear clearly, but the word “impatient” carried through well enough.

  “You shoot me, girlie, and the three of you will be dead before me.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Sam said, her pistol never wavering. Actually, it felt rock steady now that things were progressing more as she’d anticipated. “Your guns are on shore, the rest of your men are unarmed. We’ve got guns and pistols at the ready. You have a choice, Copper. Take us to Dervish or die.” She stepped closer to him, despite the smell of rotting flesh that surrounded him. “I’ve got nothing left to lose. What’ll it be?”

  Surprisingly, Copper didn’t appear too affected by her threat. Luke, however, was rigid.

  “I’ll take ’em. Luke and Steele only. You and your other man here are to stay back with ours.” He grinned. “As long as ye don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be alive when we get back.”

  Joe shook his head, worry drawing his thick eyebrows closer together. “No, the lass comes as well.”

  “Like hell she will,” Copper argued.

  “We’ve got ye outnumbered and outgunned. Me ship’s ready to fire. If she don’t come, I’ll give the order now.”r />
  Copper glared at Luke, who shrugged his shoulders. Finally Copper nodded.

  “Fine, but this one stays,” he added, pointing to Willy.

  “Agreed,” Joe answered. “But if we don’t come out or if yer men turn on me crew, me crew will open fire. It’s a long swim to Barbados without a ship.”

  Willy stood as straight and tall as the mast on the Revenge . Long as she’d known him, she’d never seen him falter. Come what may, he’d obey her orders.

  Sam cast her glance around at what remained of Dervish’s men, those on shore and in the water. Though they’d be stupid to try anything in such a vulnerable situation, she’d learned not to predict what a pirate might do. She caught Luke’s gaze for a brief moment, and the reality of the situation settled heavily around her heart.

  They left Willy guarded by Dervish’s men and followed Copper into the thick foliage, Luke taking up the rear. Tall palm trees with leaves outstretched like a giant’s fingers gave instant relief from the glaring sun. Sam took a deep breath, inhaling the humidity along with the smell of thriving green plants that ranged in size from low-growing ferns to the towering, scaly-barked, and slightly hairy palm trees.

  The underbrush was spongy beneath their boots. Other than the muffled noise their feet created, and the slight jingle of Luke’s chains, the silence in the forest was eerie. It seemed to Sam that every creature knew what was coming and was holding its breath, waiting. She knew exactly how they felt.

  She darted a glance back at Luke. Though sweat gleamed on his chest and made his shirt cling to his shoulders, he appeared unshakable. His pistol was in his hand, his face showed little emotion. He said nothing as their eyes met, not offering encouragement or warning. And somehow that hurt as much as his lies. Perhaps she’d expected a small word to boost her courage or even a smile. It was silly, she knew, given what she’d said to him earlier. And yet she couldn’t deny the stab of pain that his indifference inflicted.