Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance

by Michelle Beattie

  “I don’t hold you responsible for his actions. Besides, ’tis thanks to the knife you gave me I was able to defend meself.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to and I will ensure you never have to again. From now on, Jacques, Aidan, or myself will be in your company at all times.”

  The flush which had begun to dissipate returned to Grace’s cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak then seemed to change her mind. She swallowed, took a breath. “That is completely unnecessary.”

  “It’s also not open for negotiation.”

  Grace came to her feet. Her hands curled at her sides. Yet she surprised him by not raising her voice, though he could see it cost her not to.

  “I’ve a weapon and you’ve work that needs doing. Surely your time will be better spent manning the ship and getting us to Santo Domingo as fast as possible.”

  “We will be later making port than planned. We’ve altered our heading. Isaac won’t be reaching Santo Domingo with the rest of us.”

  “Then surely once Isaac is gone you won’t need to play nursemaid.”

  “He’s the not only man on this ship and, clearly, I can’t keep watch on them at all times. As for having work to do, you’re right. My time is better spent manning the ship than whiling away the day in my cabin.”

  Grace’s hands unfolded. Her smile caused an odd and unwanted catch in his throat. Suddenly his plan didn’t seem so sound. He pushed to his feet. He needed to get back to his duties. He grabbed his coat off Carrack’s cage, shrugged into it then opened the chest he had at the foot of his berth. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed it to Grace.

  “I’ve no need for a hat.”

  “You will above decks. Let’s go.”

  Squawk. “Let’s go. Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going up on deck. Your entire crew is there!”

  “Most, yes. As I will be.”

  “And you’ll be working. ’Tis better if I stay here. I won’t be a distraction.”

  If only it were so easy. “You’ll be less of a distraction if I don’t have to worry about someone slipping into my cabin when my attention is turned. This way the men can see to their duties and you can enjoy some fresh air.”

  “’Tisn’t fresh air I’m wanting, ’tis peace and I’ll have more of it here.”

  “You’ll be fine on the quarterdeck. Besides, I’ll not have my men thinking they can control circumstances on this ship. I won’t be maneuvered into keeping you below simply because it’s less of a distraction for them. They have duties and they will see to them while learning that I and I alone decide who comes and goes on this ship.”

  “But—”

  “You’re going up, Grace.”

  Squawk. “Up Grace. Up Grace.”

  “To what purpose? To have them gawk and stare the moment you turn your head? To suffer the lust in their eyes?”

  “If they do you’ve only to tell me who and he will see the same fate as Isaac.”

  “Be that as it may I’ve had—”

  “There isn’t only you to think of, there’s the child. It’s not good for either of you to be locked in stale air for days on end.”

  “And what would you know of what’s best for a child?”

  Everything in him went still then turned cold. Grace seemed to realize her misstep. Clutching the hat in her hand, she hurried to apologize.

  “’Tis sorry I am. I’ve overstepped.”

  Steele took as big a breath as his constricted lungs would accept. Then looking her in the eye he said, “Five minutes. If you’re not on deck by then I will come and get you.”

  *

  The moment the hatch closed, the air left Grace’s lungs in a puff. She sat hard on the berth. When she’d seen the dark look come over Steele, she’d been sure she was in for a beating, or worse. She’d hurt him and she’d expected him to retaliate. Instead, he intended to see she had constant protection.

  While a part of her resented the order, for it made her feel like she was a captive all over again. She could also admit, in this situation, she was relieved. Weapon or not, she was no match against most men. She’d learned that the hard way as an indentured servant. Granted, it could’ve been worse, the overseers on the plantation could have done to her what Roche had, but she’d been beaten enough times to know she had little defense against men. And while she’d bloodied Isaac and had threatened to do worse to him, if Steele hadn’t come, she’d have fared worse than Isaac.

  Yet, as tempting as the idea was of the sun on her face, of the warmth of the air floating over her skin—as she’d had precious little of it while in Roche’s captivity and she certainly hadn’t enjoyed the blistering sun day in and day out working the sugar fields—she knew sailors. They had to go weeks and months without the pleasures of a woman and it drove them to bad tempers and poor judgment. Isaac wasn’t the first example she’d seen, there had been plenty on their sail from Ireland.

  But Steele would be near and she was safe with him.

  Though it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two since Steele had left her, he was waiting. He opened the hatch just as she reached it.

  “Thank you.”

  His blue gaze pierced hers. “You aren’t in any physical discomfort?”

  “You’re speaking of the sutures? They pull a little, but ’tis more uncomfortable than painful.”

  He nodded, guided up her to the quarterdeck where yet another surprise awaited her. He’d had a chair brought up and had placed it so it faced the stern. She could enjoy the sun and wind, without having to look at the crew and the only thing they’d see of her is the back of her head.

  She took her seat, smiled at Aidan who was dismissed now that his captain was back at the helm. The wind was light and she tipped her head back, closed her eyes and relished it drifting over her face, skipping across her throat. The heat of the sun warmed her skin and seeped into her body, creating a haze of contentment. For the moment she had no worries, nor cares.

  It was all due to the pirate named Steele.

  Without moving her body, she opened her eyes and peered at him. Legs braced, his large hands clasped the wheel as his focus stayed on the sea ahead. Hatless, the wind toyed its fingers through his dark hair and beard, fluttered his red shirt. He appeared unyielding and cold, a typical pirate captain and, yet, she suspected there was more to Steele. She’d seen the shadows in his eyes yet had benefited from the care he’d taken with her. He could have left her in his cabin, or at the very least the brig, but he’d seen she was tended, fed, and kept safe from his men. And now he wanted her and the child to have fresh air and sunshine.

  He intrigued her. Oh, her interest wasn’t due to any sort of foolish romantic notions. Such things were for weak women, willing to lose themselves in order to please a man. No, she wasn’t looking at Steele and thinking romance. She was simply curious, drawn to the complexities and contradictions of the man. Who was the real Steele? The cold pirate or the caring man she’d caught glimpses of?

  And was it possible to uncover the answer before they reached Santo Domingo?

  *

  The hatch opened. Late afternoon light streamed in, set the dust motes to dancing.

  “That will be Aidan with your supper,” Jacques said.

  Grace had remained on deck for hours but eventually she’d become sleepy and asked to go below. She’d only awakened five minutes ago and judging by the drowsy look on Jacques’ face as he stretched back on one of the chairs flanking the table, he’d napped as well.

  “I hope you’re hungry, Grace,” Aidan said as he descended the ladder, balancing a tray in one hand. “Paddy had a heavy hand when he heaped the food onto your plate.”

  “’Tis grateful I am to him, Aidan, as I feel as though I’m starving.” And if her appetite kept growing, she’d be bigger than an ox by the time the babe was born.

  At the sound of Aidan’s voice, Carracks became very active.

  Squawk. “Outside. Outside.”

  Balancing the tray wit
h one hand, Aidan reached into his pocket and handed the bird a nut with the other. “I’ll take you outside later,” he promised.

  Carracks turned away, content for the moment with his food.

  “Paddy is after me own heart,” Grace sighed when Aidan set the tray onto the table and she saw the stack of potato pancakes. “Two meals of boxty. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Aidan’s chuckle brought her gaze round. “They aren’t that good, Grace.”

  “I’ll second that,” Jacques said. He came to his feet, stretched. “But it beats weevil-infested biscuits.” He tipped his head to Grace. “Good evening, miss.”

  “Good night, Jacques, and thank you.”

  He waved his hand in acknowledgement and left. Grace took her seat at the table, smiled at the pancakes. She cut a large piece, folded it into her mouth and closed her eyes. Fields, acres and acres of green rolling hills appeared in her vision. “’Tis as if I’ve a piece of home with each bite.”

  She heard Aidan scrape a chair across the floor and settle into it. “What’s it like? Ireland?”

  Grace let the vision float away before opening her eyes. “’Tis magic, it is. I’m not talking about the faeries we grow up believing in, but the land itself. ’Tis greener than the most brilliant emerald. The seasons can be harsh and the cold can bite through to your bones, but there’s nothing like coming in from the wet, sitting in front of a roaring fire, and eating a hearty bowl of soup.” His stare had her wiping her chin and cheeks. “What? Do I have food on me face?”

  “I’ve never heard anyone talk of home the way you do. It really must be magic.”

  Her heart yearned. “It really is,” she agreed.

  “Yet you left.”

  “Not by choice, I promise you.”

  “Still, I can’t imagine having such fond memories.”

  “You didn’t like your home?” She took another bite.

  “I never had one. I was raised as a slave on a plantation. When I fled, it was the best day of my life.”

  “Oh, Aidan.” She set down her fork. “’Tis awful. Have you been with Steele since you left the plantation?”

  He shook his head. “When Samantha escaped the plantation, she took me with her. She’s my family now. Well, she and her husband, Luke, her sister, Alicia.” He laughed. “And there’s more. Husbands, friends, their children. I went from having no family to having an extensive one.”

  “Is Steele part of that family?”

  “If you were to ask him, I’m sure he’d say no and yet we consider him a part of it. As a rule, he prefers his own company but it proves harder to do once we make port.”

  Grace pushed her empty plate aside. “That should hold me until morning.”

  “I hope you don’t mind but Steele told me about the babe. Are you feeling all right?”

  “I am. A little tired, very hungry, but I don’t think those be unusual reactions.”

  “Not from what I’ve seen.”

  Grace arched a brow.

  “Between Alicia and Claire, I’ve been around my share of pregnant women.”

  “Alicia is Samantha’s sister and Claire is who Steele taking me to?” she asked, just to be clear she had it right.

  “Yes.”

  “Does Samantha not have children?”

  Sadness crept into Aidan’s voice. “No, though she desperately wants them, they haven’t been fortunate enough to conceive any.”

  Grace put a hand over her belly. Despite this babe’s origins, she already loved it. What would it be to want one and never be given the chance?

  “Does Steele have a family?”

  Compassion filled Aidan’s brown eyes. “He has sisters somewhere, and he had a brother.”

  “Had?”

  “Vincent died just before Cale took over as Steele.”

  “Cale?”

  Aidan grimaced. “Don’t tell him I told you or I’ll be swabbing the deck for the next month. Cale is the captain’s real name. He goes by Sam Steele now, but before he took on this ship, he went by Cale Hunter.”

  Cale. She rolled the name over in her mind, decided it suited the gruff man.

  “He has no wife or children of his own?”

  Aidan leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms. “You’re very curious about the captain.”

  “Well, he did save me life.” She grabbed her fork, turned it in her hand. “Sure and he isn’t an easy man to understand. I was simply trying to make sense of him.”

  Aidan laughed. “Ah, well, when you do, let the rest of us know.” His smile faded as he straightened and leaned forward. “Grace, Cale is a solitary man, but a good one. There isn’t much we know about him and we don’t push. He’s earned my respect and I won’t betray him by speaking of him.”

  Feeling chastised, Grace set her fork onto her plate.

  “I don’t blame you for being curious, we all are. We’ve simply accepted there are things about him we’ll never know. Now, if you’ve the desire, he thought you might like to meet a fellow countryman. The men have all been fed so Paddy should be alone. I’m sure he’d appreciate some company while he cleans the galley.”

  “But I thought—”

  “I’ll stay, per the captain’s orders, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a visit.”

  Joy filled her heart, spread into a smile. “Oh, Aidan, ’tis a grand idea!” And the gesture, so thoughtful, added another layer to the mystery that was Steele. Regardless, she would be sure to thank him later. For now, she simply couldn’t wait to meet Paddy.

  She barely gave the crew a passing thought as she followed Aidan up from Steele’s cabin and across to the main hatch. She did, however, smile her thanks to Steele. His expression remained stoic but he gave a slight nod to acknowledge her.

  As they approached the galley, lively whistling filled her ear. She recognized the melody; it was a jig she’d danced to many times. Regardless of the fact they’d been living in hiding in a tiny borrowed shack, there had always been music after supper. The tin whistle and the fiddle were some of the few possessions her da had rescued from their home before it was taken from them. When the evening meal was done, her mother would play the whistle; either her da or her brother, Colin, played the fiddle while Grace sang and danced. If Colin were on the fiddle, then her da would join in the dance. Oh, how he’d loved to dance.

  Longing swept over her. If only it were possible to jump back into those memories and return to Ireland. Even in hiding, she’d felt the bonds of family, the sense of who she was. Her family, her homeland, had meant everything to her. And she’d wanted, so desperately, to stay and fight for what was rightfully theirs but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

  Her da had thought to spare them by surrendering. Well, he’d hardly managed that, had he? Living in hiding had at least been living. Servitude on a plantation, endless days of backbreaking work in the scorching sun with no stockings or hat, sometimes with little water was hardly an improvement. They’d been used like dogs, poked with sticks, or worse, if they faltered or if it was believed they weren’t working fast enough.

  The bite of her fingernails into her palms and Aidan’s soft touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present. She opened her fists, shook out her hands. It was too late to change things now. Still, it didn’t mean hearing a lively tune which reminded her of the best parts of her homeland couldn’t be appreciated. She stood until the melody ended and then signaled to Aidan she was ready.

  “’Tis a fine song you’d be whistling,” she said after striding into the small but tidy galley behind Aidan.

  A short, red-haired man with eyes green as the fields of home turned from the stove and the steaming pot upon it.

  “’Tis a favorite of mine.” He wiped his hands on his trousers, held one out in greeting. “Me name’s Paddy. The Cap’n said you’d be coming. ’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Aye, and yours.” Grace took his hand. “I want to thank you for the boxty. ’Twas nice to hav
e something of home.”

  His eyes took on a far away look. “Every time I make it ’tis as though I’m there, sitting in front of the hearth with a steamin’ cup o’ tea in me hand.”

  “You miss it as well.”

  He blinked, focused on her. “I miss parts of it, to be sure, but I bloody don’t miss the fightin’.”

  “Paddy, you’re on a pirate ship; you fight all the time!”

  Aidan chuckled as he settled himself in the corner of the galley, leaving Grace and Paddy some semblance of privacy. She wondered if that was Steele’s idea as well.

  “Aye, but ’tis a different kind of fightin’. ’Tis true there are battles here, but there be peace as well. ’Twas no peace to be found in Ireland.”

  “At one time surely there was. Me mother and da used to speak of how it was, before Cromwell. How they’d gather for céilís.”

  Paddy shook his head. “Those days were long gone even before I left.”

  Maybe so, but it wasn’t all about the dancing, was it? “But what of your roots, Paddy?”

  He tapped his chest. “They be in here, lass. Nobody can take them away.”

  With two towels, Paddy grasped the pot and poured steaming water into a basin, next to which was a healthy stack of dirty dishes. While she watched his actions, her mind was on his words. He didn’t seem to care he wasn’t in Ireland any longer, that everything he’d grown with was gone. It wasn’t so easy with Grace.

  Aye, her memories may well be in her heart, but she didn’t want to live with memories, she wanted to go back. There’d been a hole in her since being ripped from home and she was certain only going back would make things right again.

  “A shame it is to see a pretty lass so sad.” Paddy set down the empty pot and came to her side. “Come now, let’s see if you remember this one.”

  A mournful whistle seeped through his lips and soon the melody wrapped around Grace. Closing her eyes, she sang along. Again, she traveled back home, where everything was familiar, where she knew who she was and where she belonged. Her heart ached as she sang. It wasn’t long until she felt the warmth of tears on her cheeks. Her voice faded on the last word and Paddy’s soft whistle drifted off shortly after. Grace wiped her cheeks, opened her eyes.