What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  And the thought of letting Aidan go scared her cold.

  “I’ll be careful, Sam.”

  It was that, Sam admitted later, that sealed her decision. He’d asked. He’d never asked for anything before. Yes, she’d seen want in his eyes, felt it shimmer off his young body, but he’d never come out and asked. They’d come a long way together, and if he was comfortable enough in their new relationship to ask, she needed to be equally forthcoming. Though it made her heart tremble, she nodded.

  “Mind Joe. I’ll see you later.”

  His eyes lit up, and he pressed himself against her, his arms circling her back. She held tight and continued to hold him that way—if only in her mind—as Joe helped him into the lifeboat.

  She waved, wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Pressed a hand to her heart, where the ache remained.

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

  It had been a miserable night. No amount of rum—and he’d had more than he could remember—had eased Luke’s tumultuous thoughts. He’d tried everything he could think of to rid his mind of Samantha: wenching, drinking, walking, cursing. It hadn’t mattered which, he’d failed at them all. Women! It was all their fault; they were the seed of all evil. Damn his bloody sister for making him think things he had no business thinking about. Damn Samantha for her cursed vows of love that were so easily withdrawn. He’d slept little, and his mood was more foul than the rotten plants he’d finally managed to sleep on. And blast it all, someone was going to get an earful.

  Though he knew it would accomplish nothing, he needed to release the frustration on the person who had capsized his life. He secured the pistol firmly in his sash, not above using it if the woman refused to sit and listen.

  With a barrelful of rum still humming in his brain, he gave a quick glance to confirm the navy was not yet about. He stepped from the seclusion of the forest and wove down the beach to the lifeboat he’d seen Joe and the boy climb from.

  He rowed in uneven strokes, each one pushing the blood faster, increasing the pain behind his eyes tenfold. Cussing didn’t help his ailment either. It seemed an eternity before the small boat tapped the larger ship. When it finally did, he felt green. It didn’t improve his disposition any. Yes, by everything that was holy, he was going to speak his mind and return to the life he knew. Where he was in command, not some woman.

  Unfortunately, when his feet landed on deck, and after it stopped swaying, he forgot everything but what was before him.

  She’d taken one of the chairs from her cabin and brought it on deck. It was placed with its back to one gun and its side pressed to the gunwale, which provided her head a support when she tilted it to the left. Her eyes were closed, her mouth soft with lips parted slightly. Elegant arms rested on the sides of the chair, palms up, fingers curled lightly.

  She was fast asleep.

  She wore no shoes or stockings. Small feet with high arches looked innocent against the smooth planks of the deck. But looks, Luke knew, were very deceiving. He remembered the way Samantha had whimpered when he’d used his tongue along those delicate arches, how he’d done it again and again mercilessly, just to hear that sound.

  A warm breeze whispered over the gunwale and through the ends of her hair, lifting and laying them back ever so gently against her cheek. His hand twitched. His loins burned. With the sea holding them in its watery palm, with rum buzzing loudly through him, he was helpless to resist her. Hell, he didn’t even try.

  He dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Her eyes snapped open and she jolted back.

  He grinned.

  She glared.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  There was no disorientation from sleep. She was very much awake. And, judging from the color of her cheeks, more than a little annoyed.

  “What are you doing? You scared me!”

  “As I bloody well should have, and you don’t have to yell. I’m bloody standing right here! What are you thinking, sleeping on deck? Any scalawag could have come and taken advantage of you.”

  “Such as yourself?”

  He feigned insult by putting a hand to his heart. “Milady offends me.”

  “What do you want, Luke?”

  Despite the ice that coated her words, her warm breath blew across his face and did strange things to his lower belly, which very quickly reminded him why he was there.

  “Depends what I can get away with,” he said, meaning every word.

  “Not a thing.” She leaned forward, aiming to stand. “You’re in my way,” she said.

  “It would appear so.”

  “Move.”

  He did, sliding closer until her knees pressed against his chest.

  “Luke!”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  Her head fell back. “He says it now,” she muttered.

  Feeling much more himself now that he wasn’t the only one out of sorts, he stood, swayed, then offered her a hand.

  She eyed it warily but accepted, then as soon as she was upright, dropped it like a grenade with a lit fuse. The wood, hot enough from the sun to burn the tender skin of her feet, had her jumping from foot to foot as she moved back to the tiller, where she’d left her shoes.

  “You’ve wasted your time. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

  “Then my timing is perfect, as you don’t need to speak at all.”

  She lifted her eyes to heaven, but no divine being came to her aid—which, Luke figured, was only fair. He hated to be the only one whose pleas remained unanswered. There was no hint of humor around her mouth, and her eyes were distant. Captain Steele was back for a last stand.

  Lucky for him, Captain Luke Bradley was equally prepared. And he went into this battle as he did every other, with the sole purpose of winning.

  He grabbed the chair and lifted it with one hand. He dropped it at her feet.

  “Sitting would be more comfortable,” he said.

  “I prefer to stand,” she countered.

  “Prefer to be stubborn would be more accurate.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit.”

  She raised her chin.

  “Unless you’d take to spending the rest of the day in your cabin, naked in my arms, I strongly urge you to sit and listen.”

  He watched, fascinated and more than a little aroused, as the gold in her eyes turned molten. Luke gave the chair a slight nudge with his toe. It scraped closer to Samantha. Her mouth opened, but he spoke before any words spilled out.

  “Naked in bed, or sitting quietly and listening. Your choice.”

  Fire flamed her cheeks. “I don’t take orders.” Her tone could have cut steel.

  He shrugged, tugging at his sash. “Fine by me, darling.”

  Muttering curses he hoped never to succumb to, she yielded and sat down. She crossed her arms indignantly over her chest and stared him down.

  It took him a moment to draw his gaze from her breasts, to shove aside the memory of what they’d felt like, how they’d tasted. That was the kind of thinking he’d wallowed in all night, and it was time to purge himself—of it and of her.

  But as he looked down at her, beautiful under the glow of the sun, his damn tongue refused to move.

  “I’m waiting,” she reminded him, her voice that of a queen waiting for a servant to act.

  He’d be damned before he became anybody’s manservant.

  “Why didn’t you bloody leave me alone in Port Royal?”

  “What?”

  “Port Royal. Prison. Me. I was sitting in jail, contemplating when best to make my escape—and I would have escaped in time—when suddenly in you strode. My life was my own and its path the one I’d chosen. Then you sauntered in and everything I’d mapped out splintered and flew into the wind.”

  The words, most of which were unplanned, spilled forth as he paced the deck. “You make me want things, Samantha, things that I never knew I wanted until the day you sprung me from jail.”

  He locked his gaze to hers so there’d be no misun
derstanding, no escape.

  “Last night I sat on a beach and watched a ship float at anchor until I caught myself. I don’t need to sit waiting for a woman when there are all sorts of lovely wenches down at the taverns.”

  “Now you’re just trying to make me jealous,” she said. “I’m not interested in your conquests, Luke.”

  He leaned forward. “If I had any to report, I wouldn’t be here now, banging my head against a wall, would I?” He ran his hands over his face as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

  “I went last night, with the intention of proving you hadn’t entangled yourself in my life so much that I couldn’t break free.” His eyes bored into hers. “But every damn harlot that strapped herself to my arm failed to make me feel anything. I couldn’t even look at them without thinking of you and remembering how you tasted and smelled.

  “I tried to prove you aren’t tied to me, luv, but the truth is, I can’t. Everything about you has woven around me, within me. It’s not lust, Samantha. If it was, I could have had my fill last night.”

  She sat frozen as ice, her lips parted in shock. The ship rocked them gently, oblivious to the storm of emotion on deck. Luke’s shirt now stuck to his back with a mixture of nervous sweat and the sun’s unrelenting stare. In the distance, a lull of sounds played quietly as Barbados went about its daily routine.

  “You changed me, Samantha, and I could strangle you for it. I was bloody happy before.”

  She was trying to be strong, but Luke saw her hands were trembling. “When you get the ship tomorrow, you’ll be free to leave. Nothing is holding you here. Nothing ever holds Luke Bradley for long.”

  “You did.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t count. It was all a lie.”

  His jaw tightened. “You are far too intelligent to believe that. When I had you in my arms, when we were loving each other, that was the truth. The rest is cargo, easily thrown out.”

  She jumped from her chair. “Cargo? You lied to me repeatedly, let me believe you were an honorable man. You call that cargo?”

  He took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out.

  “Is it really so impossible for you to believe that I can be honorable?”

  Samantha stood and went around the chair, holding the back of it. The fact that she used it to keep distance between them wasn’t lost on Luke.

  “You shot Dervish for your own gain, Luke.”

  He set his jaw. “Did I?”

  “You were holding the gun, Luke. Do you deny it?”

  “No, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you know the whole story.”

  She shook her head, her eyes gleaming like the sea. “Luke, let’s not make this any harder. Yes, the treasure I could overlook. Having Dervish careening his ship was easier than a battle at sea, but killing him, Luke, that I can’t forgive you for.”

  Her words, her lack of faith, hung heavier on him than any chain he could place around his neck. Joe wanted him to tell her the truth about Dervish, and he’d planned to, but the words turned to ash. Years he’d spent trying to convince his mother’s husband that he was worthy. He’d done all the chores asked of him and hours’ worth that hadn’t been, but it hadn’t mattered.

  Nothing had been enough. He’d left that life, and it would be a bloody cold day in hell before he put himself back there. Not even for the woman he loved. His stomach clenched at that, and for the first time all day he knew it wasn’t due to rum. He loved her.

  Well, he thought, looking at Samantha, his heart thumping behind his chains, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d left something he loved behind. He’d never begged before, and he’d be damned before he’d do it now. Luke Bradley had his pride.

  “You’re absolutely right. There’s no need to make this any harder. And as I’ve taken enough of your time, I’ll leave you to your ship.”

  He left without another glance or word.

  She didn’t call him back, which told Luke everything he needed to know.

  Nineteen

  Even though his well of patience was deep, Oliver had reached its bottom. He’d waited, planned, taken deliberate steps to get his ship and Samantha back into his possession. To be so close yet unable to make the final move was the most frustrating thing he’d encountered thus far.

  But Oliver wasn’t fool enough to risk his revenge on an emotional mistake. Not when he’d come this far. So, he settled back and waited. Bradley had left hours ago, but the harbor was busy, and he didn’t want to chance anyone hearing Samantha scream.

  He smiled. She would scream, he’d make certain of it. No, he’d wait until dusk, then he’d find her.

  He’d always known he’d find her.

  “ You seem unsettled,” Jacqueline said.

  “Perhaps because I never thought to have the sister-in-law of the governor on board my ship.”

  Jacqueline smiled and cast a glance around. “It is a pretty ship.”

  Since Sam was certain Luke’s sister hadn’t come to talk about sailing or sailing vessels, and she was afraid that being seen together on the Revenge would hurt Jacqueline, she quickly got to the point.

  “What brought you by?”

  “I was afraid, after I came home and realized you’d already come back for Aidan, that we wouldn’t have a chance to talk again.”

  “I thought it best to leave quickly.” And quietly, she thought.

  “What happened, Samantha? You look sad. Did you not find Dervish?”

  “Can we please not talk about that?” Sam asked, her voice cracking.

  Jacqueline’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry. You didn’t find him, did you?”

  “No, we did.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

  Sam took a deep breath. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you. It’s best if you don’t know.”

  Luke’s sister frowned and leaned forward. It was uncanny, in that one expression, how much she looked like her brother.

  “You’re as bad as he is. I won’t faint or swoon if I hear a bit of bad news, Samantha. Is Luke all right?” She paled. “He’s not hurt, is he?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Taking a deep breath, Sam told Jacqueline the awful story.

  When Sam had finished, Jacqueline was quiet for a moment, her brows drawing together as she thought.

  “You’re determined to live without him, aren’t you?”

  Sam rubbed her eyes, suddenly weary. “He’s a pirate, Jacqueline, and I don’t want any part of that life anymore.”

  “What makes you think he can’t walk away from it?”

  Sam sighed. “A person has only to look at Luke to see it’s in him. He thrives on the sea, enjoys hunting and looting. If he lost that . . .” Sam tried to picture Luke dressed in tail coats and fancy shoes.

  “He could do it,” Jacqueline insisted.

  “He could, but he’d hate every second of it.” Strangely, the idea of forcing Luke to conform to the codes of society was criminal. To do that would take away his boldness, his arrogance. However much she’d hated those traits of his at first, she now recognized them as integral parts of Luke.

  “You underestimate my brother,” Jacqueline said. “Although I agree he’d never be happy as a military man or a politician, he could, and would, live as a respectable merchant.” She focused on Sam. “If he chose to.”

  “And you believe he would, for me?”

  “I know it. Samantha, I’ve seen you together. He loves you.”

  Sam shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. He wants me. There’s a difference.”

  Jacqueline looked at her, and Sam saw the ideas spinning behind her eyes.

  “What makes you happy, Samantha?”

  Luke came to mind first, but by the twinkle in his sister’s eye, Jacqueline already knew that. Life had thrown some terrible things into her path. The loss of her family, the rape, the fruitless ending to finding Dervish. Through it all, there had been good times. Happy times she’d manag
ed to enjoy despite circumstances.

  And every single one of them had happened on board her ship. “The sea,” she answered, not aware her voice had turned soft and the despair was gone from it. “I love watching the dolphins swim alongside the ship, watching the whales leap in the distance. I love the power of guiding my ship through a storm or listening to her rock sleepily at night.”

  It wasn’t until Jacqueline passed her a lace-trimmed handkerchief that Sam realized she was crying.

  “You don’t have to give it up, Samantha. It’s your choice.”

  “Piracy isn’t a choice,” she answered, and blew into the soft cloth. “And I’m through with it.”

  “Does that includes Luke?”

  “Don’t,” Samantha begged. “Please don’t. This is hard enough.”

  Jacqueline sighed deeply. “Samantha, listen to me. Luke can and will walk away from piracy. I know him. Just as I know both Daniel and I would work very hard to make that possible for him, for him to have a life without running.”

  She drew a deep breath and squeezed Sam’s hand. “We want a family, Samantha, and that includes Luke. I want him to know his niece or nephew, and I want him to be a part of that child’s life. I believe it can happen, and you must as well.

  “You can have it all, Samantha, everything your heart longs for. Life hasn’t been easy for you, but it hasn’t been all pain and suffering.”

  Memories, large as life and bright as the sun, filled Sam’s head. Her sister, her mother and father. Their smiles, their voices. Slowly her head came up. The pain still squeezed her heart, but not as tightly as it had. After five years, the healing had finally begun.

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes misty. “I needed to remember that.”

  “You’re so much stronger than you believe, Samantha. It’s time to put a little faith in life and love. Once you have Luke, the rest will fall into place. You’ll see.”

  Long before she came to the water, Sam heard the sounds. Water crashing onto itself, joyous yells of children. Several birds cocked their heads and watched her march by. Her feet sank slightly in the rich earth with each step.