by Mariah Stone
Pirate’s Treasure
Called by a Pirate Book One
Mariah Stone
Contents
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Pirate’s Treasure
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
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About the Author
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Also by Mariah Stone
Called by a Viking series (time travel romance):
One Night with a Viking (prequel)—grab for free!
The Fortress of Time
The Jewel of Time
The Marriage of Time
The Surf of Time
The Tree of Time
Called by a Pirate series (time travel romance):
Pirate’s Treasure
Pirate’s Pleasure
A historical Christmas regency romance:
The Russian Prince’s Bride
Pirate’s Treasure
A Time Travel Romance
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Called by a Pirate series
Book One
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Mariah Stone
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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© 2019 Mariah Stone. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Dar Albert
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All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, contact the publisher at http:\mariahstone.com
Chapter 1
City of Pirates Museum, Jade Island, The Bahamas, August 2019
* * *
Samantha
* * *
“He’s so handsome.” I nudge my best friend, Lisa, in the ribs. “And yet he couldn’t find a date for the ball.”
“James ‘Prince’ Barrow, 1690-1720,” reads the sign below the portrait of a pirate who looks like Prince Charming.
“Who wouldn’t go to a ball with him, Samantha?” Lisa says. “No man can look this dreamy.”
Forgetting the tour guide watching us, I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t.”
James Barrow reminds me of Lisa’s ex, with his pretty face and his nose held high. The conceited, arrogant, pleased-with-himself type who thinks the world belongs to him.
James Barrow’s golden hair falls in soft curls to his shoulders. What color are his eyes? Blue? No, they’re a bit unusual. Violet? I thought the only people with violet eyes were heroines in romance novels. It must be the artist’s touch or the aging paint. Thick golden brows arch over his eyes. Today, he could be a Hollywood star or a pop singer that teenage girls secretly cry over.
Not a pirate.
“The other guy is my type,” I say pointing at the portrait hanging next to this one. Cole the Black.
He’s handsome, too, but in a more brutal way. His hair long and dark, his eyes almost black under his low eyebrows—everything about him screams danger. The type of man with whom I have an understanding: no commitments, just one night of no-holds-barred, panty-melting sex.
Between the portraits hang two identical golden necklaces with jade stone pendants, and a note “replicas” under them.
“Well, Cole the Black does look like your type, Samantha,” Lisa says. “He needs someone to love his lost soul, just like you.”
I snort. Lisa and her compulsion for romance. That’s what got her here, so heartbroken. Just open your heart for a jerk to step on, to laugh at you, and to destroy your soul. Exactly why I’m not getting involved in anything serious anymore. It’s a pain I know all too well.
Memories tighten my airways and my heart races. The heat is not helping. There’s no air conditioning, and the opened windows of the building let in the scorching August air from the vastness of the Atlantic and cloudless blue sky. It smells like pear, mango, and hot stones. But I’m not complaining! The whole vacation is a pleasant contrast with New York and probably the last bit of relaxation I’ll get for the next few years due to the big promotion that awaits me.
The guide raises his eyebrows in surprise and chuckles. He is a man in his sixties, local to the islands. He has a bright red headscarf on, a simple white T-shirt, a necklace of colorful beads around his neck, and the most astonishing thing of all…
A live snake.
It slithers around his neck, its split tongue flickering and trembling in the air. It makes my skin crawl. The man—his name is Adonis, and I’m sure it’s a nickname—has assured us it’s not poisonous. I am not sure I believe him. I only agreed to take the private tour in the hope that Lisa would be too distracted by the snake to think about Hank. I didn’t think pirates and history would be interesting at all. So far, I’ve been completely wrong about both. I’m supposed to be the badass between Lisa and me, but surprisingly—or perhaps not, considering she owns a pet hotel—Lisa loves the snake. And I find the museum fascinating.
Adonis pats the snake’s head, the gesture so freakish it makes my bones freeze. “Cole the Black split the bounty from their combined raid on one of the Spanish ships that transported valuables from the colonies back to Spain. Attending the ball was the only way to get the last clue to the location of the treasure. James was lucky he got the Marquis de Bouchon and his wife’s invitation, but it wasn’t enough. The governor’s staff wouldn’t have admitted him had he gone alone, and he couldn’t hire a local prostitute to act as his wife,” Adonis said. “The governor knew every single one, so he would have called his bluff right away. Without a woman to help James get to the ball, he never got the treasure. Tired of a sailing a long time without profit, his crew mutinied and he lost his ship. He was ready to retire, get married, buy a villa, and lead a peaceful life, but instead he was imprisoned by the Royal Navy and hanged in Bristol. His noble family was there, watching their pirate son hang.”
Cold sweat trickles down my back, imagining old gray England and that gorgeous man hanging by the neck, dying. I want to yell at him to find someone, to save himself.
“So did he want the treasure to stop the mutiny?” I ask.
“Yes,” Adonis says. “He had never seen piracy as the way to live forever. He even met a woman once, a pirate captain, wanted to settle down with her.”
“But he didn’t marry her, I assume?” I say.
“That’s right.” The snake turns and looks at me, its tongue darting in the air. I shiver.
“Anne betrayed him during their raid on the Spanish ship, and James had to lie low from the British Navy for a long time afterward.”
“That must have broken James’s heart,” Lisa says.
Adonis nods. “It did. But at least Cole kept his word and hid James’s part of the treasure.”
“See!” Lisa excl
aims. “I told you, Cole was just a lost soul. He could have taken all the treasure for himself, but he didn’t. He just needs love to open up his heart.”
I shake my head. “I’m astonished you are still a hopeless romantic even after the breakup.”
Adonis chuckles and seems to exchange a knowing look with a snake. Could he be any weirder?
“So that no one else could get the treasure,” Adonis continues, “Cole created three clues to its location. The first was the island map, the second was the exact location of the treasure on the map. James found both of those. The only thing he was missing were the coordinates of the island.”
A sense of adventure begins to sizzle through my blood like a drug. It’s intoxicating.
“And somehow the governor got the last clue,” I say.
“Yes. The governor arrested a pirate who was supposed to give the coordinates to James. Of course, the governor didn’t know exactly what he had. Cole had hidden the coordinates in a Chinese cricket box he’d picked up when he’d raided the ship of an Asian merchant.”
Lisa frowns. “A cricket box? What’s that?”
I know the answer to that. “It’s like one of those Japanese puzzle boxes that looks like a box of solid wood, and you have to guess where to push, press, and slide to open it.”
Adonis chuckles. “You are very right, madame. How do you know?”
“My grandpa was Japanese. He collected those puzzle boxes and let me play with them. I loved watching him open them.”
Adonis cocks his head, and his dark eyes glimmer. “If James had been able to steal the box and get it open, maybe he would have lived a very different life.”
“I wish he had found a woman who could help him,” Lisa says, and Adonis seems to hide a smile.
“Was the treasure found?” I ask.
“Yes. Eventually. These two necklaces”—he points at the jade pendants—“are their replicas. Two identical necklaces, for two noble twin sisters in Spain. Cole put one in James’s half and kept one for himself.”
I study the necklace. It’s pretty. The gold is pale, the oval jade pendant encrusted in a sun-like ornament. “Why jade?” I ask.
“They say in voodoo, jade is the gem of love, so strong, people can find each other anywhere. Even through time.”
As he says that, the world seems to stand still—only his lips move, and the snake. A shiver runs through me, as if someone just poured a bucket of snow over my head. Find each other through time? What nonsense. And why is he looking at me like that?
I exchange a look with Lisa, and she looks as amused as I am. Voodoo, time travel, love. Right. I want to snort, but I don’t want to offend Adonis, or his pet snake…
“Would you like to try it on?” Adonis asks.
“What?” I say. “Aren’t we forbidden from touching stuff in a museum?”
Adonis smiles. “Not when I am your tour guide.”
Lisa looks at me. “Yeah! Why not. They are replicas anyway, right?”
He removes the necklaces and hands us one each. The metal is cool and smooth in my hands, and it starts to buzz ever slightly. No, it must be just the contrast with the heat. The jade is so pretty. It has all these shades and swirls of gorgeous green, from light to dark, probably different layers of stone from ancient times to more recent.
“Yes, just replicas,” Adonis says. “Put them on. Go on.”
“I don’t know,” I say and shake my head. I hold the necklace out to him. “What if the guard comes? Aren’t we going to get into trouble?”
Adonis winks. “The guard won’t come. I promise. When else will you have a chance to try on a pirate treasure?”
Lisa looks at me, I look at her and we nod to each other, barely noticeable. “All right,” I say. “A fun thing to do. Something to remember in New York.”
As I put the necklace on and the stone touches my ribcage, something begins to happen. It’s as if the air around me contracts and pushes me from all sides. I can’t breathe. The colors around me smudge, and everything is a blur.
“What’s happening?” I yell and try to remove the necklace. But I can’t feel my body.
All I can hear is the snake’s ominous hiss.
“You are traveling back in time to help James. To return, you must put on the necklace.”
This is insane!
“Lisa, don’t put it on!” I yell, but I don’t know if she heard me because she just stands there.
He must have put some drug on the necklace, because I feel as if the pressure is crushing me, as if I’m getting smaller and smaller, and the wind is blowing at me from all sides, and then there’s a strange rocking sensation under my feet.
And then the world goes dark.
Chapter 2
Waters near Nassau, The Bahamas, August 1718
* * *
James
* * *
The sun setting behind the windows of my cabin lights the hand-drawn map of the island in my hand in a red-orange glow. A perfect color for the volcano indicated in the center of the island. Cole, you smart and fearless bastard. A dormant volcano is a good guard for the treasure chest.
Sea Prince rocks gently on the waves. My cabin is filled with the scent of sea and sandalwood, of the ship that has been my home for years, but that no longer feels like home.
I crave the scent of earth, of tropical flowers and growing things. I want to build a home on the solid ground and earn an honest living. I want the companionship of a dependable woman who won’t betray me.
I do not want to look over my shoulder anymore. Do not want to court danger.
I want peace.
But it looks as though I will not get it. I do not have the island’s coordinates. And without a woman to attend the ball with me tonight, I will never get them…
A sudden movement catches the corner of my eye, and I jump to my feet, whirling around, pistol in hand.
A woman lies on the floor where a moment ago I could swear there was empty space.
I blink and strain my eyes to make sure I am really seeing her. Was she sent to me to make my wish come true? Did God decide to smile on me? She lies on her side, one arm outstretched, her bright yellow gown revealing the curves of her breasts. Her arms are completely nude, whereas her legs are covered almost till her feet. She’s wearing strange shoes, her scandalously exposed feet held to the soles only with thin straps. Her long raven-black hair is loose and spread on the floor. Her eyes are closed, her face serene and beautiful.
Is she a spy? A thief who came looking for clues to the treasure? A prostitute hired by my crew?
“Who are you? How did you get here?” I demand.
Her eyelashes begin to flutter. She stirs and moans a little. Then her eyes open and they’re dark and deep and full of confusion. She takes in everything, as though she is seeing a different world.
“What’s going on?” she mutters, her voice deep and melodic, with an American accent. She looks me over carefully, and then the meaning of a gun pointed at her seems to register. She pushes against the floor and sits up. Her eyes widen in fear, and her full lips part.
“I repeat the question,” I say. “Who are you?”
She shakes her head then raises her chin, although fear still lurks behind her eyes. “I’m Samantha Gilbert. How the hell did I get here? Did you bring me here? What do you want?”
Samantha Gilbert. She sounds so sincere, but I will be damned if I believe her. Anne taught me the lesson of never trusting beautiful women. I walk around the desk towards her and watch with satisfaction as her eyes crawl over me and she swallows. Then she frowns as though in recognition. If she is afraid, she is right to be. I will not tolerate thieves or spies on my ship, no matter how pretty.
“Miss Gilbert,” I say, “I did not bring you anywhere. You came here, to me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She rises to her feet, and I can’t help appreciating the view. She is petite and slender, the hemispheres of her breasts protruding deliciously under the freely
falling material of her dress.
Whoever sent her, they chose right because she is very distracting.
And for just a fraction of a second, I lose my focus admiring her, and she darts to the doors. But I have been trained for this, have fought battles where a moment thinner than a hair means the difference between life and death.
My hand lands on the doors just as hers reach the handle. She is panting, pinned between my body and the doors. Her scent reaches me—sun, coconut, and something citrusy. My pulse beats loudly in my ears.
I gently turn her around to face me. And as I meet her dark eyes, I have to remind myself to stay in the moment and not drown in their beauty.
“And where is it that you are going, Miss Gilbert?” I ask.
“Away from you and your gun. Where am I?” she says, her voice a croak.
I narrow my eyes, looking for any sign that she is playing me. She is an excellent actress; she seems utterly sincere. But her questions do not make sense. If she came for the clues, would trying to seduce me not be a better tactic? If she is a whore, why is she behaving as though someone placed her here without her knowledge?
“If you are a jest of one of my crew,” I say, “I am not laughing. It is obvious that you came for something, and are pretending—very poorly, I must say—that you lost your memory.”
