Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance

by Michelle Beattie

  But Roche wasn’t the only one with a plan. Cale had seen everyone flee the house. Everyone but Aidan. While he couldn’t be sure Aidan was inside, he felt he was. Aidan had proved himself wily in the years they’d sailed together and the plan to stay behind was a sound one. He figured the boy was armed and ready, as he suspected Luke and the others were by now. Everyone was waiting for the opportune moment.

  Grace stopped a handful of paces away from the house. Cale cast a nervous glance at the sparks shooting from its roof and willed her to move further away. Behind her, the fire roared like a wild beast waking from a long nap.

  “I’m here,” she said, her body and voice rigid. “You can come out.”

  “I’m not naïve, Grace. You come to me.”

  Cale spun to the left. Holy Hell, Roche couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away. But with the darkness and the thick jungle growth, Cale couldn’t see him. Damn his cursed luck, it meant he couldn’t shoot him either. He leaned against a sturdy tree. The pistol he’d taken from Isaac’s body was getting heavier and heavier. It took a concentrated effort to keep his hold on it from slipping. If Roche didn’t make a move soon, Cale would be useless to help.

  *

  Victory left a sweet taste in Roche’s mouth. Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated his opponent’s numbers, but his crew had made the best of it, hadn’t they? And hadn’t they still kept to his plan? A good number of his men were heading back to the ship, readying it for sail, and he was confident the dozen he’d specifically ordered to hide remained where they’d been instructed to stay. There would be no saving the treasure, thanks to that miscreant Isaac, but there were more treasures to be had.

  He only had one unborn child.

  And, he thought with a smile, Grace’s little friends had just stepped where two of his men were hiding. He licked his lips, savoring the moment. Grace was terrified, he could smell her fear over the smoke. It was erotic. His cock stirred, remembering, as he did, just how perfect a scared Grace was beneath him. He’d have her again, moaning and whimpering until he was done with her. Until he had the child.

  But that was for later. He had to get her back onto his ship first. Focusing on the task rather than the reward, Roche counted her steps. A few more. Just a few more…

  *

  Cale balanced on the balls of his feet. He sucked in short, shallow breaths. She was almost there; it was almost—

  It sounded like thunder. In a bright flash, the roof on the back of the house fell in. Flames and sparks hurled skyward. Cale’s stomach launched to his throat. Grace spun and screamed exactly what he was thinking, “Aidan!”

  With a violent curse and a smack of vegetation, Roche leapt from cover as shots fired in the trees across the yard.

  “Grace, run!” Cale yelled as he lifted his pistol. But Roche was no simpleton and he ran, weaving left to right. Knowing he only had one shot, and unsure he could make it with his weakening strength and a moving target, Cale jammed the pistol in his waistband and charged after Roche.

  Men—hopefully theirs—raced out of the trees beyond Grace. But it was too late. Roche, the bastard, had just caught her.

  Roche snagged her arm and pulled her in the direction of the estuary.

  “I’ve got her,” Cale yelled. “Somebody get Aidan!” As he ran, his eyes on the woman he loved, his thoughts were also on the boy who’d been the closest thing he’d had to family since Catherine and Caden had been taken.

  Behind him, gunfire raged on. He ignored the screams, forced himself to run though he was so damn scared he could barely see straight. But then luck swung in his favor as Grace lost her footing and she and Roche staggered. It was all Cale needed. Snarling, he launched himself at Roche. For the second time that night, Cale hit the ground hard.

  Pain, black, white, and every color in between, filled his eyes. He was rolled over, pinned underneath something heavy, obviously Roche. The blow wasn’t unexpected but it nonetheless exploded against the side of his head, snapped it to the side.

  “Cale!” Grace yelled.

  Cale clamped his teeth against the darkness threatening to swallow him. He blinked, struggled to remain conscious even as he tried to buck and wriggle from under Roche’s weight. Each movement brought another lash of agony, brought him closer to the edge.

  The cold press of Roche’s pistol against Cale’s forehead stopped him more than the pain.

  “The mighty Steele has failed. I only wish I had the time to make you suffer.” Roche pulled back on the hammer.

  An arrow suddenly whistled between his and Roche’s face and thwacked into flesh.

  Holy hell.

  Roche screamed as the pistol slipped from his hand and smacked Cale in the face.

  Cale didn’t waste time. Digging deep within himself, he twisted and rolled from underneath his attacker. He lunged for Roche’s pistol but despite the arrow sticking from Roche’s right forearm, the tyrant grabbed it with his left. And once again Cale had a pistol pointed at his head.

  “Cale!” Grace gasped.

  “I’d stop right there, boy,” Roche called. “And lower the bow unless you want your captain to die.”

  Aidan was yards away yet but Cale could see he had another arrow notched and ready. Grace was much closer, and unfortunately nearer to Roche than Aidan. Cale’s head was swimming but he rose to his feet, curled his hands into fists until the yard stopped spinning.

  “How do I know you won’t shoot him anyhow the moment I set down my bow?” Aidan called out.

  “I’ve seen you with that bow. I know how fast you are. If I shoot him, you’ll kill me before I can get to the ship.”

  “On that you have my word,” Aidan promised.

  “Put the bow down and leave it there. I won’t shoot him as long as you let us get away.”

  “Don’t do it, Aidan. Let him shoot! Don’t let him take Grace.”

  “Cale, no!” Grace cried. “Aidan, let me go!”

  “Lower it,” Roche demanded. While his injured arm hung limp and bleeding at his side, his other was rock steady.

  “Aidan, don’t do it. She can’t go with him. She can’t.” Cale pleaded. Hell, he’d take his chances and jump Roche again before he let him take Grace.

  “Drop it now,” Roche hollered.

  The wait seemed interminable as Cale willed Aidan not listen to Roche or Grace. It was becoming harder and harder to stay alert and if Aidan didn’t do something soon, Cale would.

  “Don’t shoot!” Grace screamed as she hurled herself toward Roche. “I’ll go with him.” She panted.

  “Damnation woman!” Cale cursed as Aidan shook his head, bent, and laid the bow and arrow at his feet.

  “And your pistol as well,” Roche ordered.

  Aidan drew it from his sash and tossed it on the ground.

  Sneering, convinced he’d won, Roche reached for Grace.

  Cale knew he’d have no other opportunity and he’d be damned if he was going to let Roche hurt Grace any more. He whipped his pistol from his waistband.

  His hand was unsteady and Grace was so close to Roche, too damn close. Yet he had to risk it. The other day, when they’d thought they were being attacked, before they knew Morgan was friendly, Grace had wanted a weapon. She’d claimed she would do whatever it took to protect herself and her child from a fate worse than death. He couldn’t let Roche take her. He couldn’t bear Grace suffering the man’s abuse again.

  Praying he was doing the right thing, Cale aimed low and fired.

  The shot hit Roche in the leg. The man roared and stumbled. Grace leapt from his reach and ran unharmed toward Cale. He grabbed her and turned her around, willing to take the shot in the back to protect her as Aidan lunged for his bow and Roche fired.

  Cale shuddered but felt no pain. He spun round. Aidan had thrown himself to the ground and was coming to his feet. Cale blew out a thankful breath. The boy was unharmed.

  “Is she hurt?” Aidan called.

  “I’m fine, Aidan, ’tis Cale who’s wound
ed.”

  “It’s not serious,” Cale answered. “Go. Don’t let the bastard get away.”

  *

  Roche was escaping, limping toward the estuary.

  Aidan didn’t need to be told twice. After everything Roche had done this night, threatening his family and burning Nate’s house, Aidan had every intention of seeing to it the miscreant got what he deserved. Roche was without weapons and, even if he had a knife hidden in his boot, he was in no condition to fight. Leaving his bow and arrow Aidan charged after Roche. Not only was he younger than Roche, he was unhurt and he’d learned how to take care of himself from Luke.

  With his booted feet slapping the earth, Aidan rounded a small curve and burst into the clearing. Roche was hobbling toward the water.

  “You’ve lost, Santiago. I’ll kill you before you get to your ship,” he yelled to the man’s back.

  Ignoring him, Roche staggered onward. Aidan sprinted forward deliberately grabbing Roche’s right arm and spinning him around.

  Roche’s wail of agony was sweet satisfaction. As was the way he clutched his wounded limb to his chest. Blood flowed where Aidan’s arrow lay imbedded. Spittle pooled at the corners of Roche’s mouth as he wheezed for breath.

  Aidan fisted his hand, prepared to deliver a satisfying punch into the scallywag’s sweating face when he staggered back. He remembered that face.

  Aidan’s knees began to shake. His arm fell limply to his side.

  He’d seen Roche earlier but he’d been further away, the man’s face had been cast in dark shadows. It wasn’t now. And, mother of God, Aidan suddenly knew him. Knew him and a whole lot more.

  Nausea burned up Aidan’s chest, boiled in his throat. “It was you,” he managed. “You killed her.” Memories, clear as if it were happening in that moment, assaulted him. Aidan fell to his knees, helpless to fight off the horror.

  “I’ve killed a lot of women, boy, you’d have to be more specific,” Roche panted.

  Aidan howled as he came to his feet.

  A shot exploded near his boot, sent dirt flying. Aidan leapt back.

  “Hurry, Captain!” A man called from the longboat.

  “I don’t advise trying to stop me. You’ll only be shot for your trouble.” He sneered despite the pain contorting his face. “Tell me, was it your sister I killed? Your lover, perhaps?”

  Aidan seethed. “It was my mother, and I’ll see you rot in hell for what you did to her.”

  Roche laughed as he limped backward to the water. “I wish I could remember her, as it sounds as though I enjoyed her.”

  Fury overtook Aidan and he charged forward. Another shot exploded, sending Aidan hurtling to the ground. His head hit something hard and blackness overtook him.

  He wasn’t unconscious long. Only long enough. When he staggered to his feet, his head throbbing, both Roche and the Revenge were sailing away.

  For the second time Aidan fell to his knees. It had all come to him when he’d looked at Roche. Looked and recognized the man who’d stolen him as a boy, the man who’d killed his mother.

  “No, no, no.” He chanted. Because it wasn’t only Roche he’d suddenly remembered.

  He’d remembered his father as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Help! Someone help!” Grace yelled, though she doubted she was heard over the crying and shouting behind her. She was clinging to Cale but his body was collapsing, taking them both to the ground. His grip weakened with every second but he somehow managed to take the brunt of the fall and Grace landed on his chest.

  His eyes fluttered closed.

  “Don’t you dare die on me!” She ordered. “Don’t you bloody dare.” Her hands were on his face, in his hair. She cradled his head against her breast as emotions racked her body. Love, fear, gratitude, hopelessness, they all swarmed her, clouded her vision. She couldn’t lose him now, not after everything they’d been through.

  Gently, she set his head on the ground, knelt at his side. He was still, so, so still. “No, please,” she begged as she placed her trembling hand over his heart.

  “Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” She praised when she felt the solid beat beneath her palm. Her tears were hot on her cheeks as she bowed her head. She hadn’t lost him.

  “Cale, me love, wake up. Please wake up.” She cupped his cheek, foolishly thinking it was the first chance she’d had to touch him without his beard.

  His eyelids quivered, then opened.

  “Did you just call me your love?”

  She laughed through her tears. She’d never heard his voice so weak and yet it was the best sound she’d ever heard. And, damn it, the time for pride was past. They’d almost lost everything tonight and, truth be told, until they joined the others she had no idea if they’d lost anyone, but at least they had each other.

  “I did. And I do. I love you, Cale, more than I thought me heart could ever love anyone.” She grabbed his hand, held it to her heart. “I want to make a life with you and I’m not saying you have to forget about Catherine, but I know you care about me and I think—”

  “Grace, stop.”

  Everything in her went still, even her breath. He didn’t want her. She’d thought—she’d been so sure… Nodding, Grace placed his hand at his side. She turned her head, cleared her throat, and somehow managed to find her voice.

  “I think Roche and his men are gone. I’ll find Jacques to tend your wound.”

  He grabbed her wrist with more strength than she thought he had left. “Open my shirt.”

  Grace shook her head. “I can’t look at your wound, Cale. Me stomach’s not strong enough. Let me find Jacques, it won’t take but a minute.”

  “Grace, open my shirt. Please.”

  The ‘please’ did her in, as did the pleading look in his eye. If this was the last thing she could do for him, she would. After everything he’d given her, ’twas the least she could do. Her fingers fumbled the strings. It pained her to know she’d never do this again, never feel the heat of his body beneath her hands.

  “Do you see it?”

  Grace was scared to look, but she lifted the garment, peered into the opening. It was too dark to see anything but the moon glinting off his chest.

  “No, I can’t see it. Please, let me get Jacques. I’m not capable of—”

  “It’s gone, Grace.”

  Had he hit his head, because he wasn’t making sense. “What’s gone?”

  He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “The necklace. It’s why I needed time tonight. I went to Vincent’s grave.”

  “He’s buried here?”

  “Yes. I buried the necklace beside his grave. It was time to say goodbye to them all. It’s time I move on.”

  He was finally letting his wife go, did that mean—could he—

  “I never thought I’d find love again, never thought I’d have a family again.” He placed a hand over her belly. “This child will only know love and I vow to you I will protect it and its mother. If it’s Ireland you need to be happy, I’ll take you there myself, as long as I take you as my wife.”

  “I thought you were sending me away.”

  “Now why would I send away the woman I love? I only wanted you to know you could have what you wanted most.” He smiled. “But I was hoping you’d realized it was me before you left.”

  Lord, she couldn’t possibly love him any more than she did right then.

  “I haven’t known who I was since I was taken from me home. I thought it would take going back to truly feel like Grace Mary Sullivan again. To know who I am.” Grace wiped her tears, but it took a moment or two to know she could speak without crying. “As it is, all I needed to do was grow up. I’m not a girl any more, hanging on to girlish resentment and anger. I’m a mother, a daughter, and a friend. I love to sing and dance, to be surrounded by family and friends alike. I can be all that, do all that, anywhere.”

  Cale smiled and, despite the darkness, she saw the love in his eyes. Heard it in his voice. “Are you accepting my pro
posal?”

  In answer, Grace lay down at his side, once again put her hand to his cheek. “I will marry you, Cale. And I want me parents there when we do.” She raised her mouth to his, opened her lips to his kiss. Cale may have been hurt, but it didn’t stop his mouth from capturing hers, from claiming her as his with each flicker of his tongue, with each pull on her lips. The kiss spun out, gently and lovingly with every promise that lay in their hearts.

  Neither forgot about what was going on behind them, but they’d both lost so much already they took the moment to appreciate what they’d found in each other.

  *

  Grace had no words. The entire roof was gone and through what was left of the windows flames consumed the inside. The smell of burnt wood and death cloaked the yard and all those within it.

  They’d accounted for everyone, though not everyone had survived. Smoky and Pockets were dead, as were the two men Cale had left behind to guard the Revenge. When Luke, Blake, and Nate had finally dealt with the last of Roche’s men and charged to the harbor, they’d found the Revenge gone and the bodies of its protectors floating dead where it used to be. Aidan had been there as well, but he’d stayed when the others had returned. Grace assumed he blamed himself for letting Roche and the Revenge get away.

  Mrs. Davis, four men from Luke’s crew, and six from Blake’s had also lost their lives. Truly it was a miracle they hadn’t lost more of their own.

  Yet as they stood watching the flames and black smoke it didn’t feel like a miracle. Claire had her children close, but her face was pressed to Nate’s shoulder as she wept for both her home and Mrs. Davis who’d leapt in front of Adam when one of Roche’s crew had aimed at the lad. Alicia rocked a finally sleeping Violet in her arms, but her gaze kept going to the fallen men they’d laid out. Luke and Samantha held each other but Luke’s gaze wasn’t on the fire or their dead friends, it was focused across the yard. Luke’s thoughts, she knew, were with Aidan. And so it wasn’t so surprising when he whispered in Samantha’s ear, then kissed her soundly before heading toward the path that led to the estuary.