by C. K. Brooke
The breeze was liberating. Em lowered her hood, allowing her copious hair to ripple free. It danced in coils about her shoulders. Oh, delight! She could get used to this kind of freedom.
“Well, well.” A snide voice issued just beside her ear, startling the dickens out of her. “Who’ve we got here?”
Chapter 4
Em swiveled around. She came face to face with none other than two roughhewn, shabbily dressed sailors. She wondered why a pair of naval officers would be permitted dress in such a fashion, without their uniforms, and keep such poor hygiene. Indeed, the breath of the one who’d spoken reeked of rum and rotting teeth.
Em couldn’t help it; she coughed. Before she could pardon herself, the second, brawnier fellow seized her upper arm. She gasped at his ruthless grip.
“Excuse me.” She narrowed her eyes at their grimy faces. “I’ll thank you to let go of me now.”
“Not a chance, moppet,” purred the brawny one, reeling her in. The other cackled in her ear, tracing her hair with a dirt-caked finger.
And that was when Em began to fear that something had gone horribly wrong. Was she quite sure this was the naval ship she’d seen Commander Redding board? She couldn’t have somehow boarded the wrong ship…could she have?
Panic rose in her breast.
“She comes with me,” grunted the one who held her.
“Does not,” hissed the other. “You know the rules. Cap’ gets first go of the maidens.”
Em’s stomach revolted. He couldn’t possibly mean…?
“Cap’ don’t need to know,” argued the larger one, tightening his hold on Em. She grimaced in pain. “Now leave us alone. I’m achin’ fer relief.” With his free hand, he cupped her backside, as though testing its weight, and licked his crackled lips.
Em recoiled from his crass grope, her head spinning sickeningly. She had been mistaken—very mistaken. These disgusting men couldn’t possibly be with Commander Redding or the Continental Navy. “Please,” she whimpered at their unforgiving leers. “It seems I’ve made a mistake. This isn’t the ship I meant to board…”
The scallywags ignored her. “You’ll be flogged,” the scrawnier one warned her captor.
“Mmm. Might be worth it,” he buried his bent nose into Emeline’s hair and inhaled, “for her.”
A shiver of revulsion coursed through her. She tried to shake her arm away, but his clasp was like iron. “Please,” she appealed again, “I realize I’m not supposed to be here. Only, I thought I saw someone—”
It was as though they couldn’t hear her. “I’m fetchin’ the cap’n.” The first man spoke over her protests, his eyes challenging his companion. “Any woman on our decks is his property. You’ll get your turn when he’s through.”
“No,” Em croaked after his departing back, the chill in the air making her hoarse. Although the one who departed wasn’t much better than his partner, she didn’t want to be left alone with the brute who restrained her, ogling her hungrily in the torchlight.
Em refused to meet his eyes, terror consuming her every muscle. By God, what had she done? She had meant to save herself from a man’s cruelty, not stumble into something arguably worse. The figure she’d followed up the port that evening mustn’t have been whom she thought it was, not at all.
“You know what comes next, right?” the scoundrel who held her rasped, brushing his thumb down the length of her arm.
Em struggled against him, her bundle falling to her feet. “Let me go. Please.”
“Don’t fight,” he advised her, shoving up her layers of skirts with his free hand. “It’ll be easier.”
“I said, let me go!” With her pale, exposed leg, Em aimed a kick, forcing the man to remove his wanton hand from her knee.
Her shouting had drawn attention. Footsteps sounded from several directions.
“I don’ like it when they’re feisty.” His eyes were menacing as he shoved her against the wall of the ship, smothering his weight against her. “Best you learn to submit, wench. I’ll show you how…”
“Mr. Pleats?”
Em’s heart pounded so sonorously in her ears, she thought she might go deaf. Her attacker froze mid-grope at the gruff voice that had addressed him. He turned around, yanking Em by the arm with him. “Captain.” Em could hear his nervousness.
The scrawny sailor had returned, at his side a most grotesque vision. Two black eyes were encased in coal, his hair and beard a braided, beaded jungle, wilder than any savage’s. He dressed like a phantom in mourning, from the deathly black tricorne and heavy waistcoat to the buckled black boots climbing his calves. Em reckoned she was looking at the devil himself.
“This slip of a girl done found her way aboard, Cap’n.” Mr. Pleats swallowed.
The captain said nothing, only staring at him icily. Em was grateful not to be the recipient of that stare. When he spoke again, the captain’s voice reminded her of bare, brittle shrubs in wintertime, scraping against the side of a house. “Then you know the rules, Pleats.”
Pleats lowered his sullen gaze.
“Let her go,” said the captain quietly.
Though his reluctance was plain, Mr. Pleats released Emeline. Alleviated, she rubbed her sore arm.
“And give her to me.” The captain slowly grinned.
A breath of horror escaped her. His teeth were a mosaic of black, silver, and gold. There was nothing she could do, nowhere to turn. In every direction, she was surrounded by water and menacing men.
She hadn’t a clue what to say, how to convince the brutes to leave her alone. All the same, she opened her mouth for a last attempt at defense. She had to say something—dear Lord. This couldn’t be the end of her virtue, her life and body ravaged at the hands of hooligans!
Before she could make a sound, however, a new voice intervened. One with a distinct northern accent.
“My sweetness! But whatever hast thou done?”
A tall figure—she knew she hadn’t been mistaken!—rushed into view, full locks bouncing at his temples.
A long breath streamed out of Emeline. The face of Commander Miers Redding was pronounced in the torch’s blaze. Though his brow was steepled with concern, a practiced, lighthearted grin softened his lips. Em couldn’t have been more relieved to see him, yet was confused by the intimate greeting. To whom was he speaking?
She was stunned when he didn’t stop at a respectful distance from her, but bounded right up to her and swept her up in his surprisingly capable arms. She gave an involuntary yelp as he twirled her about in the air, her skirts spinning around her.
Setting her onto her feet again, the commander brought his lips to her cheek. A hot rush of embarrassment surged through Em. But instead of kissing her, he only whispered two words into her ear. “Play along.”
Commander Redding wrapped a protective arm around Em, grinning at the captain and his motley crew. “Gentlemen, forgive the darling Mrs. Redding. Truly, I’d no inkling she would follow me here. Lo, I should have known better.” He gave the bewildered girl a fond little shake. “She was so desperate to come along.”
Pleats scowled. “You know this woman, Commander?”
“Know her?” The commander overflowed with laughter, the sound like a bottle being uncorked, its contents frothing from the brim. Em would’ve thought it a bit over-the-top, but the mirth in his eyes almost had her convinced. “Why, this lovely swan is my wife!”
“Wife?” The captain scrutinized him, although he looked more curious than skeptical. “Since when are you married, Redding?”
“Since…recently.” He beamed.
“We eloped,” Em supplied with faux eagerness, in her best effort to mimic her sister Pru’s marital giddiness. She hoped her furious blushing wouldn’t give away her discomfort—or outright confusion.
“Indeed, we are newlyweds.” Redding grinned sentimentally at her. “And my fair bride just couldn’t bear to be parted from her new husband. Could you, my darling?” With this, he stooped to nuzzle his nose against hers.
Though abashed beyond words, Em could only permit him.
“I’d told her I was going away, and she begged to come with me. Oh, Captain Crawley, I simply cannot punish her devotion.” Commander Redding appealed to the frightful captain. “Please, sir, if you’d indulge me, I’ll compensate you for her passage as well as my own.” Without hesitating, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a fat money pouch. From it, he scooped a helping of coins and poured them freely into the captain’s upturned hand. They tinkled together like tiny bells.
Apparently satisfied, Captain Crawley closed his black-nailed fist over them, already seeming to forget Em. Clearly, the captain coveted money more than a plaything for his bed.
The commander’s grin transitioned into something more serious. “I trust your crew will respect my property, and not give the good woman any trouble hereon.” He extracted one more coin, and tucked it neatly into the captain’s lapel pocket.
Captain Crawley’s watchful eyes were fixed upon him. “This was not part of our agreement, Redding,” he croaked. “Alas…we risked enough meeting you at the harbor, and we aren’t turnin’ back. S’pose you leave me no choice but to tolerate her.” He waved his bribe-free hand. “Now, best you’d escort your wife to your cabin, and keep ’er out of my men’s way. I’ll have a word with them.” He frowned. “But bewares that some don’t take kindly to a woman on board.”
Understatement of the century, thought Emeline.
“I understand.” Commander Redding inclined his head. “All of my gratitude, Captain.”
More of the crew had gathered to watch by then, each looking as ill-kempt and ragtag as the first two Em had encountered. They wore no uniforms and varied in age and posture. The young woman couldn’t fathom what the commander was doing among them. Had the quality of the navy truly so declined? If not naval officers, then who were they?
Arm still resolutely around her shoulders, Commander Redding steered Em past their probing gazes. “Not a word until we reach the cabin,” he murmured, so that only she could hear.
He guided her to a narrow companionway leading to a lower deck. The steps creaked as they descended together. Still fastened to his side, Em’s hip bumped his with every movement. Of everything she’d done, and all that had befallen her that evening, this somehow felt the most scandalous.
She was walking closer to a man than she’d ever done before, their bodies jammed together in the cramped stairwell, heading for his cabin in the dead of night. She could hardly see when they reached the bottom stair.
She blinked, trying to gain her bearings. The commander remained silent, weaving her up the hall. He navigated easily in the darkness, anticipating the curves and corners, unaffected by the water-bound unsteadiness that was so unsettling to Em. There was no mistaking that he was a man accustomed to the sea.
They stopped in front of an unassuming door, and Commander Redding pulled the handle.
The first word that came to Em’s mind when she stepped inside was minimal. Not that the room was so small. But it was simple, tidy—virtually empty. A wooden bureau stood to the left, its surface clean but for a dimly-lit oil lamp. And to the right sat a single cot dressed in plain, fading linens. A cabin trunk completed the picture, and that was all. The walls and floor were old and unadorned.
Commander Redding closed the door, shutting them in.
Although he hadn’t yet granted his permission, Em assumed it safe to speak. “This isn’t a place you occupy regularly, is it?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“No, it isn’t.” The jovial manner he’d performed upstairs was gone entirely. He stood before her, a full head taller, his expression uncharacteristically stern. “Miss…Winthrop, is it?”
Em nodded. It felt strange that the man who had behaved so familiarly with her just moments ago wasn’t even certain of her name.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Em was reminded of the way it had tickled when he’d brushed it across hers above deck. She shoved the mortifying recollection aside.
“I’m at a loss,” he confessed at last.
“You want to know what I’m doing here,” she surmised.
“Yes, and why! And how you found me—!” He stopped, taking a breath to collect himself. Although he was understandably flustered, it appeared he was the sort of man who kept his temper in check. Em found she liked that.
“Sorry, but I had to leave Jamestown.” She met his eyes, and was unexpectedly transfixed by the hue of the ocean in them, visible even in the low lantern light. “You were my only way out. I…trusted you.”
His eyebrows came together. “You don’t know me.”
“Well,” Em hugged herself, “given your title and disposition, I’d deemed you trustworthy. And up there,” she cocked her chin, “you rescued me, did you not? Are you saying I’ve misjudged you?”
His tone was gentler as he studied her face. “You haven’t.”
She pursed her lips, her case made.
“But you’ve misjudged the situation. You never should have come here.” He began to pace, his features wrought with anxiety. “This is no place for a young lady. It isn’t safe.”
A laugh loosed from her. “But Commander, why ever would I be unsafe with my own country’s navy?”
He stopped in his tracks as though she’d thrown something at him. “Miss Winthrop, this is not a naval vessel. It is a pirate ship!”
Chapter 5
Commander Miers Redding couldn’t fathom where to begin as the raven-haired girl blinked up at him in evident shock.
“Pirates?”
He was glad she had sense enough to keep her incredulity to a whisper. Her gaze raked across the cabin, as if trying to discover something she might have missed before. Miers noticed her almond-shaped eyes were a warm golden brown, reminding him of English honeybees in summertime.
“And may I ask what business you have among pirates?” She cocked a demanding eyebrow.
“No.” Miers scratched his head. “You may not.” He didn’t owe her his story. He didn’t owe her anything, in fact. No, because her showing up had nearly compromised—and surely complicated—his entire plan. Besides, no one knew of his predicament, except for Captain Crawley. And Miers preferred to keep it that way. If for nothing else than poor Eliza’s sake.
The slender runaway stood in the center of his cabin as he resumed pacing. It was a nervous habit he’d never bothered to conquer. “It’s out of the question now to find another port for you,” he muttered, more to himself. “I can’t very well abandon you. And in any case, Crawley isn’t docking again.” He sighed. “It appears I’m stuck with you.”
He immediately felt guilty at her expression, like that of an unwanted child. “Oh, I didn’t mean to sound cruel,” he amended. “You are equally stuck with me. And that is assuredly worse.”
Miss Winthrop’s dainty lips puckered into a tiny smile at his self-deprecation. He couldn’t say why, but it caught him off-guard. Her features were fey and delicate, like a carefully carved doll.
He would be the first to admit, he hadn’t taken proper notice of anything about her until just then. When they’d first been introduced, he was so consumed by the upcoming voyage and daunting task ahead, his mind hadn’t room for much else. Yet now, truth be told, he wondered how he had failed to appreciate just how ivory Miss Winthrop’s complexion was, or how rich the sheen of her copious black hair.
The man cleared his throat. “So, then. How did you find me?”
“I recognized you at port,” she confessed. “So I followed you.”
He tried to conceal his apprehension. “And did…did anyone else recognize me, pray tell?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Who took you to port?” he asked.
“No one, sir. I came alone.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised. Really, she had more than demonstrated her recklessness on several counts that evening. All the same, M
iers sputtered, “Alone? Dear girl, have you any regard for your corporal welfare?”
She said nothing, only turning pale.
Miers exhaled. Regardless of her folly, the young woman had clearly endured an ordeal that night. It couldn’t have been easy for her.
“Well, I suppose it is what it is.” He tugged at his collar. “Now, I know not how you plan to occupy yourself for the next seven days, but I have duties aboard this ship—and even at this hour. I’ll thank you to remain here, and retire.” He indicated the cot. “Expect my return later.”
“To be clear.” Miss Winthrop surveyed him, those honeyish eyes growing wider. “I am to share your cabin?”
“An abominable sentence, I know. But we must convince the others we are married. You understand, don’t you?” His tone softened. “You realize what would become of you otherwise?”
She blushed so deeply, he feared it would rub off on him. Indeed, his own neck was growing warm. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he wouldn’t call it comfortable.
“Why your wife, Commander?” she asked in a small voice. “Could we not have simply told them I was a friend, or perhaps your sister?”
“Do you think friendship would matter to them?” He shook his head. “And anyway, Crawley knows who my family is. No, I’m afraid those ruffians will only leave off if they believe you to be my rightful property.”
And it was true. Thugs though they were, Crawley’s crew was commanded to heed Redding. The captain saw to that—it was the least the pirate owed to Miers.
The young woman nodded at the floor. “Very well.” He made to leave when she called after him, “Oh, but, Commander, I must trouble you for one more favor.”
He turned. “Yes, what is it?”
“My scarf—I dropped it upstairs. My belongings are inside. Would you mind bringing it upon your return?” She bit her lip, looking so coy that he was momentarily disarmed again.
