What a Pirate Desires

by Michelle Beattie

  Sam’s steps halted at the path. She felt her mouth gape open as her eyes raced to see it all at once.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she muttered.

  Rock, carved out by years of grinding water, formed a wall of gray that protruded straight up from the surface of the small pond at the bottom, as though reaching for the sky. Thick trees with gnarled trunks poked out of the rock where they dared. The pool below was green and filled with people of all ages. A mist floated above them as the water splashed down from above.

  She stood and stared, amazed by the power and beauty of nature.

  “She’s beautiful, ain’t she?”

  Sam hadn’t heard or seen Joe approach. Though she jumped slightly, it pleased her that after years of always being aware and alert, she was able to forget everything for a moment in time and simply be.

  “She is that. I’ve never seen anything that compares.”

  “Come closer,” Joe said.

  He led her down to where the basin of water gathered and where the enthusiasm of the children was decidedly louder. Joe leaned closer to be heard.

  “I’ve tried to get the boy to leave, but he’s found another lad and I’ve had no luck pryin’ him away.”

  In the heart of the small pond, with hair flattened to his cheeks in thick ropes, Aidan splashed a boy similar in age, then howled and dived under to avoid retaliation. Sam smiled when he finally came up for air, only to have a handful of water aimed at his face. Though he coughed up the water, the wide grin never left him.

  “It’s good to see him with a boy his age,” Sam commented.

  “Aye. And ’tis just as good to see ye here. I figured ye’d be on the ship.”

  “I was. I had a few visitors today; they’ve given me a lot to consider.”

  “Ah, Bradley.”

  They sat on the soft ground, and Sam turned from Aidan’s antics to her first mate. “You know he came to see me?”

  “I told him to. Glad to see he listens ever’ so oft’n.”

  “You told him to? Why? You hate Luke.”

  Joe nodded his grizzled head, slapped at a huge bug, and grunted when he succeeded in killing it. He picked it up with thick fingers, examined it, then threw it over his shoulder.

  “Yer right, I did. Me thinkin’s changed now.”

  “Did you fall on your head?”

  He laughed, the sound equal to the roar of the falls. “No, lass, but he saved yer life. I can’t very well hate him fer that now, can I?”

  “Are you talking of the merchant ship? If I recall correctly, you weren’t any friendlier to him after that.”

  “Not that, lass. It’s Dervish I be talkin’ about.” His gaze narrowed. “Didn’t he tell ye?”

  Confused, Samantha shook her head.

  “Blast him! I told ’im to tell ye.” He muttered curses under his breath and didn’t stop until Sam grabbed his meaty arm.

  “Tell me what, Joe?”

  “If it wasn’t fer Bradley, lass, Dervish would’ve killed ye.”

  What happened on Santa Placidia floated through her mind. “Joe, Dervish was bleeding and unarmed. How could Luke have saved me from him?”

  “When ye lowered yer weapon and turned away, the scoundrel drew a pistol from behind ’im. Me heart bloody stopped. Dervish was goin’ to shoot ye in the back. I had no weapon. Nothin’ I could do. But Bradley did, and thank blessed Jesus he did, or we wouldn’t be talkin’ now.”

  Like the clouds parting after a fierce storm, everything Luke had said suddenly made sense. Hadn’t he told her she didn’t know the whole story? He’d admitted to killing Dervish and yet he never explained his reasons. Why?

  “Oh, Joe,” she muttered, shame spilling over her. Luke hadn’t explained because she’d never given him a chance. The first thing she’d done was turn on him and accuse him of killing for his own purposes. She buried her face in her hands, remorse making her ache. He’d saved her life, and what had she done? She’d called him a bastard. She’d used the thing she knew would hurt him the most.

  She remembered the coldness that had swept over his face, and the betrayal in his eye earlier today when she’d refused to allow him to defend himself.

  “He was suppos’d to tell ye.”

  “Well, I wasn’t very eager to listen to his explanations.”

  “It ain’t too late, lass. Ye can listen to him now, let him explain.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Ye know Luke. Ye know where to start lookin.’ ”

  Hope, bright as any sunrise, made her smile. Yes, she knew Luke. She knew he was honorable and gentle, loving and brave. She knew she loved him, and if she didn’t find him today, she’d wait on the Revenge until he came for it in the morning.

  “Thank you,” she said, excitement racing through her blood. “Will you be all right with Aidan?”

  He waved a big hand at her. “The other boy’s mother already invited us fer supper. If that’s to yer likin’, I can keep the boy until it’s time to bring him back fer bed.”

  She thanked Joe, waved good-bye to Aidan, and picked up her skirts, running as fast as she could.

  Dusk spilled over Barbados in a bounty of pink and purple slashes. Across the darkening sky, the balls of clouds had melted into a mixture of lavender and blush. The sea, an exotic shade of blue green, breathed in long, deep breaths that crept a little further up the beach with each exhale.

  Pelicans glided over the water, hunting for their dinner. Gold ribbons crept from the horizon, where the sun was nestling into the sea, to the Revenge, where Sam waved at one of Jacqueline’s servants who’d been kind enough to row her to the ship, leaving the boat on the beach for Joe and Aidan’s return.

  Upon leaving Joe, she’d searched every tavern she could find, all to no avail. Though she was careful of who she spoke to, she left word everywhere she went. If anybody saw Luke Bradley tonight, they would tell him it was imperative that he make his way to a ship called the Revenge. She didn’t expect Joe and Aidan for another few hours, and hoped Luke would come before they arrived. For what she wanted to say, what she needed to apologize for, she wanted privacy.

  She leaned her forearms on the gunwale. A few people milled about the docks, and though she could tell they were talking by the arm gestures, no sound carried to her. She was alone and, for the moment, glad of it. She’d need some time to formulate how best to tell Luke she was sorry.

  Her stomach clutched and she slowly breathed through it until it relaxed again. She could only hope it wasn’t too late for them, that she hadn’t cut him too deeply with her lack of faith. She pushed herself away from the side of her ship, her hand caressing the ropes and tiller as she made her way to the hatch that led to her cabin. The future, however uncertain, did hold something very bright in it. Luke and Aidan. And her ship. How they would all work together was something they’d have to work out. As a family. Her heart was so full, it was a wonder it didn’t burst. Who would have thought springing a pirate from jail would be the best thing she’d ever done in her life?

  Because her mind was elsewhere as she climbed down into her darkened cabin, she didn’t notice something wasn’t right. She didn’t recognize the pungent smell that had haunted her nightmares, nor did she hear the shallow breathing. Not until it was too late.

  With a snap, sulfur singed the air and the intruder lit a candle. Her worst memory, very much alive, leered at her.

  “Good evening, Samantha. My patience has finally been rewarded. I can’t tell you how satisfied I am to see you again.”

  Twenty

  The scream that formed in Sam’s head sputtered out in a shocked moan. Her knees buckled. She landed hard on her backside, then scurried up as fast as she could, staying as far from Oliver Grant as possible.

  “No, it can’t be.”

  Her hands gripped the ladder, which helped support her shaking knees. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t trembling. He couldn’t be alive. She’d killed him. He couldn’t h
ave survived that assault to the head. No, it was a nightmare.

  But then he expelled cigar smoke in a languid breath that filled the small cabin and constricted around her throat in wispy fingers.

  “I assure you, dear girl, it is me. Although I imagine I look far different than the last time you saw me.”

  He rolled the fat cigar between fingers that were just as fleshy. His predatory gaze never left her. Even as he rose from the chair and trailed a sallow hand over the pale blue cotton blanket that covered her berth, his eyes remained fixed on hers. Evil oozed from his satisfied smile. It slithered to the floor, across the distance between them, and curled around her ankles. Sam shuddered and staggered back, only to come up hard against the wall.

  “You won’t be hiding from me again,” he said, arrogance squaring his shoulders. “Indeed, I haven’t waited all this time only to come up empty-handed again. You, my dear, aren’t going anywhere.”

  The past came barreling back. She was helpless again with nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. Grant could easily grab her if she tried to run. And this time, she had no weapon. Fear turned her skin clammy and cold. Her heart galloped, making her breathing loud and uneven in the otherwise silent room.

  “Yes, you understand, don’t you?”

  From the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled a black blunderbuss. Its reach wasn’t meant for great distances, but in the cabin it was more than adequate. He purred as he sat on the edge of the berth, the weapon aimed at her heart. Sam moved behind the table. The back of a chair slid through her slippery fingers as she tried to hold on to something, anything, to keep from falling to pieces. He would take her again, she knew it. Already bile was churning its way up her throat. She couldn’t live through that again.

  “I remember the night I had you. You were so young, so scared. Kicking and screaming, your nails clawing at anything you could find.” He laughed. “I’d never had such a boisterous girl before. Heavens, you all but squeezed the life right out of me.” He slapped his thigh as though it was a forgotten jest.

  Shame jumped onto the fear and brought tears to Sam’s eyes. To Oliver it had been fun. He’d found entertainment in taking her innocence, in hearing her screams. Screams that even now echoed in her ears. Even with the small table between them, she could feel his hands on her body. Sam pressed her hand to her mouth and forced herself to calm down, forced the disgrace away. Think, she told herself. Stay calm, there has to be a way out.

  With tears burning her eyes and her jaw aching from holding back emotion, her life raced through her mind. The Destiny, her parents, Dervish. The plantation, the rape. Captain Steele. Luke Bradley.

  She couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped through her fear. Luke. She’d come so far, so much farther than she ever would have believed possible. For the first time in years, she was contemplating a future, a real future. She’d found a man to love and share a life with, a man who knew everything about her and loved her in spite of it. She released her jaw and took a fortifying breath. The tears dried, and she wiped away the last trace of moisture with a steady hand. She’d been a victim twice in her life. By God, there wouldn’t be a third time.

  “I may have failed the first time, but if you touch me again, I won’t make the same mistake. This time, I will make sure you’re dead.”

  The smile died and his gaze struck. “Mighty big words. How do you propose to stop me all by yourself?”

  “Any way I can,” she answered between clenched teeth.

  “I think I’ll enjoy your efforts,” he said.

  Taking his time, he slowly removed his jacket. He folded it in half and draped it over the screen.

  “This must go,” he muttered. “You’ve made yourself at home on my ship, I noticed.”

  “She’s mine. You don’t deserve her.”

  His gaze narrowed and he stepped forward. She smelled the whiskey on his breath. Her gown was already damp under her breasts and arms. Grant must have felt the heat, too, because his upper lip was dotted with moisture.

  “That table won’t stop me,” he taunted.

  “Maybe this will.” She grabbed a chair and tossed it at Grant.

  He ducked, and although it caught him in the shoulder, he avoided the worst of it. Sam didn’t waste a second. Running around the table, flinging chairs in her wake, she dashed for the ladder. If she could get above deck, she could jump into the ocean.

  While fear propelled Sam, anger pushed at Oliver. He caught her as her hands pushed open the hatch, his grip iron tight. Moist evening air fell like a light rain on Sam’s face. Stars twinkled brightly, but didn’t offer the help she so desperately needed. No amount of kicking, wiggling, or struggling helped. Sam screamed and thrashed, using the edge of the latch to pull herself up.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled. “Let go!”

  With a heavy grunt and a strength she couldn’t match, he pulled hard enough for Sam’s tenuous grip on the hatch to give. She fell down the ladder, her cheek hitting the rungs, and landed in a heap on the floor of the cabin.

  “Damn you,” Oliver wheezed, his face now the color of uncooked pastry. “You always were more trouble than you were worth.”

  Her face throbbed. Her fingers stung and bled where her fingernails had ripped. The blunderbuss he’d somehow managed to hold on to was once again pointed at her. Moonlight fell from the open hatch onto Grant’s shoulders. The candle he’d lit earlier was only bright enough to draw out the angles and planes of his greedy face. While she fought to control the fear that raced up and down her body in cold waves, she tried to formulate another plan. As Steele would. After all, it was Grant who’d created Steele. It was only fair that he die by him.

  Taking every speck of control she could muster, Sam drew herself up. Oliver sneered.

  “Always were too damned willful for your own good.”

  In a move that revived one of her worst nightmares, Oliver reached for his belt. “As I was saying . . .”

  Sam’s hands clenched into fists. She was ready to use them. “You’ll never have me, or the ship. You’re not worthy of either one of us,” she said.

  “Oh, you are mistaken, my dear girl. First you, then the ship. You are both very much mine. However, much as I enjoy your screams, I don’t think the whole bay needs to hear them.”

  He moved sideways, keeping Sam in his sight, and took two steps up the ladder to reach for the hatch.

  Warm water dripped onto Grant’s head, and he froze.

  Wet, black boots landed hard on the hatch, narrowly missing Oliver’s fingers. She knew those boots! Oh, thank God, she thought.

  “Luke, it’s Grant! He’s got a weapon!” Sam yelled. Even as she shouted the warning, Grant fired toward the opening. The sound ripped through the stillness. Luke stumbled out of sight. Sam screamed.

  “Luke!” she yelled.

  Grant cursed and hurried back to her. His meaty fingers dug into her forearms and he pulled her past the table. He then slipped an arm around her waist, took a blunderbuss she hadn’t realized he had in his other hand, and pointed it at her head. He backed them into a corner.

  “Now, let’s see how badly your lover wants to help. Bradley!” Oliver yelled. “If you can still walk, you’ll have to come down here to get your precious Samantha. I’m not fool enough to go chasing after you.”

  Each breath felt like forever while Sam waited to hear sounds from Luke. Any sound to prove he hadn’t been killed. Grant’s breathing rasped past her ears. His hold was as firm as the weapon that rested coolly against her temple. Sam felt violated just being in his grip. She turned her head aside.

  “You’ve got one minute, Bradley, or your little strumpet here will know what it’s like to be with a real man. Again.”

  His vile laugh crawled over Sam’s skin.

  Sam counted the seconds in her head. If Luke hadn’t come by the time she reached forty-five, she was going to take her chances. Her hands were free, and she had every intention of using them.

  Twenty. Twenty-fiv
e. Thirty. Sweat trickled down Sam’s forehead. She blinked away the sting. Her fingers curled into fists. Thirty-five.

  “Let her go, Grant,” Luke called from the opening.

  Sam sobbed and uncurled her hands. Grant tightened his hold.

  “If you want her, you’ll have to come down here. I don’t need anyone else coming aboard and interrupting my evening. But,” he added as one black boot hit the top rung, “I want your weapons thrown down here first. No surprises, Bradley, or Samantha dies.”

  Two pistols, a sword, and two daggers flashed silver in the moonlight and clanged to the floor. Luke descended. Wet hair lay heavy against his head and trickled in small rivulets down his hard face. His shirt and sash were missing. And thankfully, there was no blood in sight. His eye searched Samantha’s. The worry in the murky depths of his gaze gave her strength. He’d come down empty-handed. Neither of them had a weapon. And yet Sam had never felt so confident in her life. She and Luke had each other. Together they’d be all right.

  “Well, well. If it’s not the infamous Luke Bradley. I imagine the navy will be very, shall we say, appreciative when I hand you over to them.”

  Luke leaned negligently against the wall, his weapons at his feet. “That’s a grand goal for someone who was once overpowered by a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  Grant snarled and pushed the pistol harder against Sam’s head. Though she felt confident, she didn’t underestimate Grant’s power.

  “I’ve been looking for her since she left me for dead and stole my ship. Her and every other slave that escaped that night. Years it took to gather them up again, but find them I did. All except for Samantha, the boy, three men, and my ship. Thanks to you, Bradley, I have the two that matter most.”

  Luke frowned. “Me?”

  “My solicitor thought he saw my ship the day of your escape. Since he’s hardly ever wrong, I decided to look into the matter. The governor was very forthcoming with the details of your escape. It seems a certain young lady had tricked the guards into eating something they shouldn’t.”