by Merry Farmer
“Are you a…” she stuttered, barely able to get the word out, hardly believing it.
“Yes, Rose, I’m a pirate.” Thomas nodded at a short, wiry man who melted out of the darkness. “This is my quartermaster, Charles.” He glanced in the direction of the town then looked at Charles. “Did he get her then?”
“He got her,” he grunted moments before her sister appeared out of the night.
“Hannah,” she cried when her sister embraced her. “I am so glad you are well, Sister.”
“I told you I would be.”
She had said no such thing.
“How are you, Rose?” Hannah squeezed her waist then shoulders in concern. “Are you well? Did they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she assured. “You?”
“Well enough,” her sister replied, her voice a little hoarse. “Just muddling through.”
Muddling through? “I dare say this is a bit more than that!”
“That would depend on who your hero is,” Hannah muttered, uncharacteristically flustered.
“They’re scoutin’ the shoreline, Cap'n,” a pirate reported to Thomas.
“Aye, then?” Thomas replied. “You’re sure?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Lookin’ for any fool ship departing in this weather.”
Thomas murmured something to the pirate she couldn’t make out before the man rushed off.
“I will see you soon, Sister.” Hannah squeezed her hand. “Until then, stay safe.”
Dread kicked her pulse up a notch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we have to split up for now. We will be far safer that way.” She embraced Rose one more time. “I will see you soon, all right?”
“But…but—”
“No buts.” Hannah met her eyes and spoke with confidence. “We have to shake the beasts on our tail then we will regroup.” She nodded hello to Thomas and narrowed her eyes in warning. “You best take good care of her.”
Then she was gone, fled into the night.
Rose had no chance to stop Hannah before Thomas scooped her up and plunked her in a skiff, saying nothing more than, “I will explain once we board my ship.”
His ship? She peered out at the sea and spied an impressive brigantine seen only by lightning flashes. Unfortunately, the waters grew rougher with the incoming storm, and her stomach flipped several times over on the short row. By the time they were aboard, she imagined she was rather green.
Thomas evidently understood her plight because he urged her to sit once they reached his cabin. From what she could see between lightning flashes, he mixed powder with something he poured into a mug. He handed it over and urged her to drink. “It will settle your stomach.”
She flinched at its oddly pungent spicy aroma. “What is this?”
“A ginger concoction.” He sat behind his desk without lighting a candle. “Drink it down, Rose.”
Like her sister, he had a tone she’d always instinctually listened to. Probably because at one time she had trusted him as much as Hannah. Yet now he was a pirate and undoubtedly not to be trusted.
“If I wanted you dead, I would not have saved you,” he pointed out, seeing her hesitation.
“Dead?” Actually, the thought had not crossed her mind, but it certainly did now. “I was thinking more along the lines that you were drugging me.”
His brow swept up. “Why would I want to drug you?”
“Well, I don't know.” Yet a couple theories popped into her head straight away. “Perhaps you intend to sell me off to someone else and need to keep me quiet until then. Or,” though she shouldn’t give him any ideas the words rolled right off her tongue, “perhaps you intend to have your way with me and would rather I not put up a fight.”
“It seems the sort of literature you read has changed considerably since last we saw each other.” He eyed her with amusement. The light layer of stubble on his chiseled face made him look roguish. “Rest assured, my dear, I do not intend to sell you off. Nor,” she swore a devious twinkle lit his pale green eyes, “would I need to drug you to have my way with you.”
“So you would force me then?” she blurted.
“No, darling,” he said softly, a sultry arrogance to his voice. “You would come quite willingly, I'm sure.”
“Dear heavens,” she whispered, wide-eyed, unsure what to make of him now. He left her in a flustered state similar to but not quite the same as the gallant lad from her youth. It was a more dangerous state fueled by the dark promise in his eyes. A feeling of overwhelming heat. A blossoming ache between her thighs. “You really have changed, haven’t you?
“Just drink, Rose.” His steady gaze never left her. Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, and wind howled. Waves tossed the ship about precariously. “You will feel much better once you do.”
Queasier by the moment, she eyed the liquid then him, wanting to see him better lest she need to flee. It was unlikely she would get far drugged, let alone on a ship already at sea, but it would make her feel better. “Might you light a candle?”
“No,” he said. “We must not draw any attention to the ship.” His gaze softened and a bit of the Thomas she once knew surfaced. “I will not hurt you, love. You have my word.”
“The word of a pirate,” she murmured.
“The word of an old friend.”
“I recall us being a tad more than that,” she whispered, pressing her lips together against a wash of emotion. Against old anger and hurt.
“I recall the same.” It seemed a similar pain flashed in his eyes, but it must have been her imagination or perhaps a play on light through the window. Because surely he cared nothing for her. How could he after what he had done?
More so what he never did.
Setting aside heartache for frustration, and a pressing need to quell her nausea, she finally drank the foul concoction. Thomas watched her with an unreadable expression. What was he thinking? Did he recall their many times together? Or were they not worth remembering? Clearly, he recalled proposing to her. His promise. But then maybe not based on his actions since.
“How are you feeling now?” he eventually murmured. “Is your stomach better?”
Surprisingly, it was. “Yes, actually…thank you.”
When he offered a small smile, she almost smiled in return but held back, unsure if happiness, better yet, a sense of security in general, was warranted just yet. As it were, she had been taken by yet another pirate. By him. “Why are you here?” She shook her head. “The last I knew you were in the Royal Navy.”
She remembered all-too-well the day he had sailed off to war. How terrified she’d been for him. The British were fighting the French for possession of the continent. Battling that would take him from the Carolina coastline to the New England frontier. She had hoped he would ultimately be stationed in Yorktown, a place just as much at risk from French attacks and Indians alike, but he was not.
In fact, she never saw him again.
“I received a Letter of Marque and ended up becoming a privateer during the war,” he divulged. “When that ended I took to pirating.”
Rather than come home to me? Rather than marry me as you said you would? She bit back anger and tried to remain focused on the matter at hand.
“Why piracy of all things, Thomas?” The boy she remembered had not been suited to this life at all. He had been caring. Kind. Certainly not a criminal.
“Because I was good at it,” he replied simply.
She frowned, certain there was more to it. A man did not turn to a life of crime without a reason. Especially when he had someone who loved him to return home to. Yet here he was, a pirate through and through. Which brought her mind back to their immediate situation. She had to stay alert because she knew nothing of the man sitting in front of her. Nothing of his life and what he was truly capable of now.
“Who has Hannah?” she asked. “And where have they taken her?”
“My brother has her.” His lips thinned into a grim line, his words damn
ing. “She is safe, Rose…it is you who is not.”
No sooner did he say it than Charles pounded on the door. “All hands on deck! Trouble’s afoot, Cap’n!”
Chapter 3
“How many?” Having ordered Rose to remain in his cabin and hold tight to something to brace herself, Thomas took to the helm and narrowed his eyes through the driving rain.
“Two ships closing in fast,” Charles reported. “Big Devil for sure.”
Thomas cursed, grateful at least that lightning flashes kept the ships visible. The downfall, however, was his own ship being seen or worse yet his crew being struck by that very lightning.
Either way, they had to shake these ships.
He carried a few light cannons, which was good and bad. Bad because it meant he had to get it right the first time. Good because it meant he had far better maneuverability than his counterpart. Not only did Big Devil carry more guns, but they were heavier.
He met Charles’s eyes and gave him the signal to make ready the cannons.
His quartermaster nodded and roared the order to prepare for battle. “Beat to quarters!”
Excellent sailors all, the crew knew what to do and how to do it quickly despite the weather. They also knew enough to strap down and brace themselves for a wild ride.
Charles gave them the go ahead, and they lowered a sail to slow the ship, then strapped off. Taking into consideration the wind, waves, and current, Thomas cranked the wheel just enough. If he turned too fast, the ship would flip. Not enough and they would never get the guns into position before the enemy fired at them.
As soon as they were ready, and he deemed it the perfect moment, Thomas roared, “Boom about,” warning his men to duck as he cut the wheel and the boom swung.
The ship leaned over so far one of the sails nearly touched the water before he cut the wheel back. As he had hoped, his ship, fine vessel that it was, took the turn perfectly lining his guns up with the ships.
He held his hand out to stay Charles from giving the order quite yet.
Wait.
Wait.
Just a bit more.
Account for the seconds it would take for his order to reach the right ears then…perfect.
“Fire everything we have,” he roared. His order was repeated by Charles then down the line to the master gunner below.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
His guns went off in rapid succession, and he got lucky. They not only hit Big Devil’s main mast but his hull.
The enemy's ship would sink.
But not the other.
Thomas was out of cannons and attacking at close range would be unwise. He was outnumbered and unlike his brother, too careful a sailor to risk hand to hand combat in seas this rough. He could sink his ship or lose men to the dark waters before they even had a chance to fight.
Thomas’s men hooted and hollered with approval when Big Devil’s main mast split and crashed down.
“Boom about,” Thomas roared again, cutting the wheel back in the other direction.
Time to flee and flee fast.
Once they were facing away from the ship, the sail was raised again, and they lurched forward.
“Bloody good hit, Cap’n,” Charles praised. “That’ll slow ‘em down for sure.”
He turned the wheel over to his quartermaster and nodded with approval. By hitting Big Devil’s ship, they forced the other vessel to stop and save their leader. Had they hit the other one, Big Devil would have likely kept going and they would have had a hellish time escaping him.
“They’ll follow soon enough,” Thomas said. “But if we keep this wind we should reach our destination with time to spare.” He clapped Charles on the shoulder. “Well done, mate. Keep me apprised.”
Charles nodded and took a hearty swig of rum.
Thomas praised his men for a job well done and made his way back to his cabin.
As to be expected, Rose was white as a ghost, clutching his bed of all things. Regrettably, it wasn't the way he wanted her to. When that time came, she would not be trembling in fear but writhing in bliss.
“Is…did you…are we…” she stuttered, taking a swig from his rum bottle.
Amused, he wondered how many she had taken before that.
“Everything is fine.” He drew the curtains, lit a candle, sat behind his desk and decided the less she knew, for now, the better. “We are clear of trouble.”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him for a moment before she realized where she was and made her way back to the chair, stumbling a bit. Whether that had to do with the storm or the rum was yet to be seen.
She sat and primly adjusted her skirts, her hands shaking ever-so-slightly. After making a project out of smoothing her hair and the rest of her attire, she took another rather lengthy swig, inhaled deeply and finally looked his way, her words matter of fact. “You are soaked.”
“I am,” he confirmed.
“Are you not going to change?”
Used to being wet, he pulled another bottle of rum out of a drawer and downed several long swallows. “I will eventually.”
Not for the first time, he scanned her person for the bauble. Where was it? His man had confirmed she still had it in her possession in Virginia, or this plan might have gone differently. Yet his informant said nothing about her always wearing it. Hannah’s letters had provided that tidbit.
Hence Big Devil’s pursuit.
Yet he saw no signs of his mother’s brooch. The family heirloom he had given her when he asked her to become his wife. A keepsake he was shocked to discover she never parted with.
“So Hannah is safe?” she said, reverting back to what they were talking about before. Her eyes narrowed. “You said she was with your brother.” Her hand fluttered over her heart in distress. “Please tell me Luke does not have her.”
“He is the only brother I have, Rose, so yes, Luke has Hannah,” he replied. “Which you should be grateful for. He is an exceptional sailor and soldier.” He shook his head. “They will never get close to her.”
“Yet it sounded like Hannah was staying on the island.” She cocked her head in consideration. “If we were just pursued, that means they know you took me.” She offered a dainty hiccup, remarkably level minded considering the rum was most assuredly having an effect. “Which means they will likely try to track down your brother too.” Her eyes widened. “All the pirates on that island will.”
“For starters, Big Devil’s pride would disallow him from telling anyone that I stole you, nor would he risk others getting to you first.” Or, should he say, what she had in her possession. Seeing no reason to worry her, he fibbed. “As for leaving men behind to seek out my brother, it is unlikely. He does not know Luke has Hannah, so there is no reason to pursue my brother on Blackbeard's behalf.”
She need not know that Luke was baiting a trap for the crew that Big Devil undoubtedly left behind when he spied Thomas's ship.
He took another hearty swig and continued. “From what I could tell the bulk of his crew were pursuing us.” He shook his head and told a half truth. “They will not be bothering anyone for some time.”
“How much time?
He forgot just how sharp she was.
“A long time,” he assured, lying through his teeth but it truly was best for her to remain calm. Worrying would get them nowhere. Remaining one step ahead and prepared would.
Time to redirect the conversation to what mattered most. “Rose, where is your brooch?”
“My brooch?” She touched the folds of material at her waist. A frown tugged at her lips. “Oh, no.” She stood and patted the area again before she shook out her skirt. “Where is it?”
He was taken aback by the genuine anxiety and sadness in her eyes.
“It meant that much then,” he said softly, speaking before he could stop himself.
“Of course it did,” she said just as softly, sinking back into the chair. When her gaze lingered on him for a moment, he wondered if she remembered the day he gave it to her.
The bright future they had envisioned. If she did, it was fleeting because she promptly refocused on the mystery at hand. Her eyes narrowed in thought then widened in understanding. “She took it!”
“Who took it?”
“Hannah,” she exclaimed. She shook her head, amazed. “I thought it was strange when she squeezed my waist. She must have lifted it then.” One eye narrowed as though homing in on a suspect. “How positively devious of her!”
“Bloody hell.” He raked a hand through his hair. Had his brother known she was going to do that? Not that it changed things all that much as long as Big Devil thought Rose had it.
“Why would she do that?” Rose said slowly. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Why would Hannah take my brooch?”
Though he debated how much he should tell her, it was time to give her a tad more truth. “Because Big Devil is after it.”
Her brows snapped together. “I thought he was after me.”
“That too, I am sure.” He shook his head. “But you are not the grand prize.” His gaze lingered on her eyes, and he found himself saying what was in his heart when he swore he would not. “At least not for him.”
Hell and damnation, she deserved his anger, not sweet words. The time for such sentiment was long gone. Part of their past.
Or so he kept telling himself.
The moment stretched before she finally cleared her throat and spoke. “Please tell me everything, Thomas.” She shook her head. “All of it. From start to finish. The whole story. Why the brooch is so important. How they know about it. How safe my sister really is.” She tilted her head in question. Anger flashed in her eyes. “Most importantly, why it is we are not turning back immediately to help her.”
He sighed and considered her before he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“It all began several fortnights ago,” he said. “When your captain sent a missive to Blackbeard and struck a deal.”
“A deal,” she whispered her eyes round once more. “Our captain?”
“Yes, he promised our magistrate an expensive ship laden with worldly goods and finery.” He perked a brow. “As well as two fine ladies of untouchable beauty and unquestionable virtue.” Sadly, this sort of thing happened far too often. “In exchange, Blackbeard would give your captain and seamen who stood by him a place amongst his crew. Prestige and a standing in our society such as it is.”
