To Marry A Marauder

by Heather C. Myers

  “You are her friend first, Charlie,” Nora said, glancing up at her nephew with a furrowed brow. “I’ve known her for nearly three months, and I see the way ye look at her. She means more to you than a normal crew member does. Hell, if your uncle talked to me the way you talked to her, I would have taken off just to spite you.”

  Charlie sighed, defeated. He knew that what his aunt was saying was true, but he was still hurt that Brooke had left, despite him telling her not to. But then again, what right did he have to order her around?

  “What if,” he began, but hesitated. He reached behind his shaggy head and rubbed his hair. His hands needed something to do, and while one was motioning along with his words, he needed to make use of his other one. His eyes were drawn down on the floor, anywhere but his aunt’s eyes. “What if she decides she doesn’t want to come back?”

  Nora’s eyes softened and she rubbed her nephew’s arm comfortingly.

  “That’s her choice, Charlie,” she murmured soothingly. “The best thing about friendship, unlike being a captain, a father, or a brother, means there are no obligations. Well, there are rarely obligations. Even some marriages are forged due to obligation. Brooke chooses to be your friend, and that’s all there is to it.” She narrowed her eyes at Charlie’s lower half of his face, and she brushed her hand over his facial hair, as though he was rubbing it away. “Now, if you’re goin’ after her, you better look the part.”

  Charlie grinned at his aunt and rubbed his chin once again.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he murmured.

  Brooke and Kenneth arrived in Port Royal around noon on the third day. When they pulled the boat into the dock, Brooke smiled. Despite the circumstances, she was happy to see her father and friends again. Once they descended from the boat, Brooke gave the dock master a shilling and the two started to walk off the dock.

  “This is where we part, dear,” Kenneth said, once their feet hit the dirt road.

  “You are leaving?” Brooke asked, somewhat surprised. Her brow was pushed up and her head was tilted to the side as she gazed at the older man.

  “I’m afraid so,” Kenneth said, his hands on his hips and nodded his affirmation. “Not the island, o’ course, Charlie would kill me if I didn’t keep an eye on you, but I’m going to stay downtown while you enjoy the wedding and parties and whatever else you need to do.”

  Brooke wanted to argue with him, but she did not open her mouth to speak. Instead, she pulled Kenneth into a tight hug, resting her cheek on his chest. The older man was caught off-guard by her spontaneous action but gently wrapped his arms around the young woman. Brooke leaned back, still engulfing him in her arms, and nodded at him with a smile. He returned her smile, and nodded back, and then released her. She bit her lip, but pulled away and began to walk up the dirt road. After a long moment, she glanced back at Kenneth, who was still standing where she had left him, squinting after her. She raised her palm and waved goodbye before pulling her focus on the evening.

  When she reached her father’s mansion, Brooke felt a surge of happiness come over her. Despite their tumultuos relationship, she still loved her father very much and knew the reason he became so upset with her was because he loved her and wanted her to have only the best. But even now, Brooke did not have marriage on her mind.

  In all honesty, Brooke had no idea what she was going to do with her life after Joel and Fiona’s wedding. Obviously, her father would want her to remain in Port Royal, marry into a wealthy, stable family, and havelots of children, preferably little boys, but Brooke now had a taste of the freedom life at sea had offered her, and she did not know if she was ready yet to return to land anytime soon.

  And what of the dashing Captain Charlie Colt? Would she return to him and his ship, opting to be a member of his crew once again? Could she…? Should she…? Her feelings for the man were complicated at best, but she did know that her friendship with him had hit a snag because of his arrogant order and her stubborn departure. She believed that their friendship could be salvaged, at least on her end; she never could stay mad at him for long. Even now, her feelings of contempt she had for him were already dissipating. He had those big, brown eyes, that boyishly charming smile; somehow, he had managed to crawl under her thick skin, making him completely irresistible to her.

  Again, Brooke was appalled at such a thought and physically shook her head to rid herself of it. She cleared her throat and knocked on the door as hard as she could without harming her knuckles. She stepped back, waiting for Jarvis to open the door, shifting her weight back and forth in hopes to stifle her anxiety.

  After a moment, the door opened and Jarvis stood there. When he saw Brooke standing there with her frizzy hair, her dirty face, and her masculine clothing, he nearly collapsed.

  “Miss Cunningham?” he asked her in disbelief.

  Brooke smiled, nodded, and proceeded to walk inside the house.

  “How are you Jarvis?” she asked him breezily.

  “Your father is out right now, but I shall call on someone to inform him of your arrival,” he said in his usual dry voice, ignoring her question altogether. “I assume you are attending the engagement party tonight? I shall call upon Liz to draw you a bath.”

  Brooke looked down to examine herself. She was quite dirty now that he had mentioned it.

  “That would probably be wise,” Brooke agreed and proceeded to make her way up the stairs.

  When Liz saw Brooke, she reacted the same way as Jarvis did, save for the fact that she was much more dramatic. Before she saw Brooke, the maid was busy folding towels and then carrying them to a cupboard. As luck would have it, Brooke came into view as she was carrying the towels, and Liz was so surprised, the towels went flying out of her hands.

  “Oh, my, mum!” Liz exclaimed, clamping her palms on both of her cheeks. “You look horrible!”

  Brooke rolled her eyes, giving her maid a dry look.

  “Nice to see you as well, Lizzy,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Liz ignored Brooke’s retort as she bustled past her mistress, calling the younger maid Beatrice to pick up the towels and resume the task of folding the rest of them and putting them away. Liz grabbed Brooke’s wrist and yanked her toward the bathing room.

  “Jarvis informed me of your abrupt arrival,” Liz said as they walked down the hall. “I just didn’t expect you to look so…well, ye know.” Liz’s brow shot up in disapproval as she spoke. “I have already informed Beatrice that ye plan to attend the engagement party for Master Donahue and Miss Radcliffe.” When they were in the bathing room, Liz spun around so she faced Brooke. “As I’m sure you’re informed, your father is away on business, but will return in time for the party. God, you’re a mess; we should start getting you ready now…. Beatrice, where is the water?!”

  For the next several hours, Brooke was cleaned, dried, dressed, brushed, and made up. She refused powder once again, but this time, she also refused to wear pink, opting, instead, for a soft mint green dress.

  “Are ye sure ye don’t want powder, mum?” Liz asked skeptically, looking upon her mistress with doubt. “Ye’ve come back with a horrible tan, and don’t even get me started on those spots on your face. I swear, living with a pirate as a captive has sure changed ye some.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes and did not bother to correct her status when it came to her companionship with Charlie. People were going to believe what they wanted to believe; there was no changing it.

  “Your father will meet ye at the party,” Liz continued. “He has been informed of your arrival and expects ye to look your best for the number of suitors that will also be attending. Are you absolutely sure ye wish not to have any powder?”

  “Liz, can you please just give me a moment to myself?” Brooke asked with agitation.

  Liz nodded, raising her brow in disapproval once again, as she walked out of Brooke’s room.

  Brooke sighed sadly as she glanced out her open window. She was not back home for even a day and
she was already being criticized for her outward appearance. While she knew that she was dirty, and could definitely benefit from a nice, long bath, Liz was criticizing her for things that made Brooke who she was; her tan and her freckles. It was at that moment that she wished she were with Charlie, on his pirate ship, where she was accepted precisely for who she was.

  She tilted her head slightly as she stared out the window. She smiled as she wondered if Charlie would appear on her balcony the same way he did when they first met. But she knew that her foolish daydreams were just that; daydreams. She was here while Charlie was back in New Providence.

  Brooke stood up and folded her hands together. She walked over to her full-length mirror to do one more look-over of herself before finally leaving for the party. She hated to admit it, but Liz’s comments had made her slightly apprehensive about her appearance.

  Brooke’s long golden blonde hair was curled and pulled up, pinned to the top of her head. While she had refused powder and rouge, she did not dispute the colored powder Liz dabbed on her eyelids that enhanced the color of her green eyes. The dress she was wearing had a square-shaped neckline. It was not low-cut but revealed her cleavage in a tasteful way. The sleeves reached her elbow before slitting open and whisking down her forearms. Liz had tied the corset tightly, despite Brooke’s order not to, so that her waist narrowed with slight pain and breathing restriction. The skirt was not poufy, but rather flared from underneath her in folds. As always, she opted for a pair of light-colored gold flats upon her feet. She rubbed on her stomach self-consciously, pushing it down, before shaking her head. She chastised herself for such insecurities as she walked out her bedroom door.

  When the carriage pulled up to Governor Radcliffe’s mansion, Brooke was helped out of the carriage by Jarvis, who had elected to accompany Brooke to the party in hopes to deter her from another scandal.

  As soon as Brooke stepped out of the carriage, people began to notice her. They all believed to some degree that she had been captured and held hostage by Charlie. Some remarked how glad they were that she was all right while others looked at her with disgust because they assumed that she was forced to please him sexually, which then tainted her chastity. Brooke regarded everyone with patient politeness but looked for an excuse to leave.

  That excuse came in the form of her father.

  “Ah, my lovely Brooke,” he said, walking towards her with his arms wide open. When he was only a few feet away from her, his smile slipped from his face, his hands dropped to his sides, and his eyes narrowed at her. “You could not even put powder on for the evening?” he remarked flatly. “Is this all Charlie’s doing? Has he corrupted you in your manner of thinking…or other aspects of yourself? And why are you late? I do not remember you being so tardy before.”

  “Which question would you like me to answer first, Father?” she asked through gritted teeth as she faked a smile.

  “Oh, never mind it all,” he said, offering her his arm. “Come, come. Let me walk you in.”

  The two entered the large mansion, but Brooke paid no attention to her surroundings; she had seen it all before. When they entered the ballroom, however, Brooke’s brow twitched with masked awe. The large room that was usually empty was now filled with people. There was a long table with glasses of champagne and dainty edibles to snack on, such as chocolate-covered strawberries. Men in sharp suits and women in beautiful gowns filled the dance floor, twirling with smiles on their beaming faces. In that moment, Brooke truly felt alone. She was surrounded by many different people, and yet there she was, completely isolated.

  “Brooke!” a voice exclaimed from behind her.

  Brooke turned and her face lit up.

  “Fiona!” Brooke exclaimed in return and pulled the taller girl into a tight hug. “You look absolutely beautiful!”

  And she was. Fiona had on a deep crimson gown that accentuated her already narrow waist. Her straight, auburn hair was curled in tight ringlets and cascaded down her back like the waves of a waterfall. Since her face was already pale, she did not need much powder, but her lips were rouged. She looked beautiful with a hint of a concealed seductress underneath her charming smile.

  “You do as well, Brooke,” Fiona said, looking her friend up and down. “Oh, I am so glad you came! How did you manage to come?”

  “I just left,” Brooke said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. “I would not miss this for anything.”

  “Speaking of anything,” Fiona said, her lips curving into a mischievous smirk. “You have much explaining to do about You-Know-Who.”

  “I have no idea as to what you are talking about,” Brooke replied innocently.

  “Yes you do, Brooke Anne Cunningham,” Fiona said, pointing an accusing finger at her friend. “But I have to go and socialize now. Go and dance, Brooke. Enjoy your newly attained freedom.”

  Brooke kissed Fiona’s cheek and watched her friend walk away, appreciating the irony of her statement. In Port Royal, she had never realized how caged she really was until she experienced her own freedom; she got to make decisions based on what she wanted, and when she wanted them. In truth, Port Royal was more like a prison than life at sea with Charlie.

  “Brooke? I have not seen you in a long time….”

  The voice caused her musings to come to a screeching halt and her blood run cold. It was the same voice that had haunted her dreams long after he had left her.

  “Andrew?” she murmured as she turned to look at him.

  Charlie looked down at the clothes he was wearing with a look of utter distaste on his face. He glanced up as he raised his brow, looking around at this unfamiliar environment. The ballroom in the governor’s mansion was quite large, but the people inhabiting the room were quite snooty in his opinion. It reminded him of the court back in England, of the life he left behind so long ago.

  At present, Charlie was standing awkwardly by himself in a corner of the room, taking in his surroundings. His hands were interlocked behind his back, and his weight was shifted on his right side. Chocolate brown eyes were scanning the room for a familiar blonde head of hair, but as of yet, he had not encountered the woman he was looking for. Another woman had come up to him, however, asking for a dance. Charlie would be lying if he said he was not flattered, and yet he would be lying if he said he wanted anything to do with her. His mind and his heart were already occupied with one woman, and he had finally realized and accepted his feelings for her. He loved her, mind, body, and soul, and he needed her—to see her, to touch her, to tell her of his true feelings and hope that she reciprocated his feelings. In the end, he politely refused the young woman a dance and continued to stand there, looking for Brooke.

  Finally, he caught a very slight glimpse of the young woman he was looking for and proceeded to walk over to her. She looked absolutely beautiful, and he was very proud that she did not resort to powder or rouge as the other women that were present had. She looked naturally stunning, whether she was in a gown or in his clothes. Her hourglass figure was revealed in the gown, and he could not wait to hold her in his arms, if only for a moment. However, as he got closer to her, he realized that she was not alone as he originally thought, but was talking to a man. And they seemed to know each other, something Charlie was not too happy about.

  He stood back a little so Brooke would not notice him, and tried to overhear their conversation despite the music that was being played. All he could make out was that the man had “just arrived today” and “would be staying a while.” The man was tall, about as tall as Charlie was, with sandy blond hair and big, blue eyes. He had red lips and a svelte figure. When he smiled, he charmed at the same time, something Charlie was not too keen on admitting out loud. The way he dressed was quite fashionable, also revealing his high-class wealth. He glanced at Brooke, trying to read her eyes, but found himself unable to do so. At that moment, he saw the man lean down, as though he was going to kiss her. Charlie was not sure whether he wanted to cut in at that moment or not. On the one hand, he wanted
to see Brooke’s response, but if there was none, he would be witnessing her kiss another man. Yet, if he did cut in, he would never know if she had wanted to kiss him or not. So, despite the surging jealousy that was coursing through him, he managed to stay put and watch.

  Brooke pulled her head back, seeing Andrew’s desired intent. Her eyes filled with an emotion mixed with anger and hurt. He was taking advantage of the feelings she used to have for him, but now, she recognized that and would not let him use her again. Andrew looked at her strangely, cocking his head to the side.

  “You were never shy before, Brooke,” he murmured, almost as if he was taunting her.

  “I am not shy,” Brooke replied firmly. “I just do not want to kiss you.”

  Before Andrew could say anything, a voice interrupted their conversation, and asked, “May I have the next dance, Miss Cunningham?”

  Brooke looked to her left where a man was standing, looking at her expectantly. Was that…? Could it be…? The man’s dark hair was slicked back, erasing the center part he usually had. His dark eyes had no outline of kohl engulfing them, and his facial hair was completely removed, emphasizing his strong jaw line and his high cheekbones. He was actually wearing clean clothing; a silky white tunic, and breeches. The boots on his feet were new and impeccable. Women were watching him with desire, but his eyes were focused solely on her as he waited for his response. Charlie Colt could clean up nicely.

  “And who do you think you are?” Andrew asked, narrowing his blue eyes at the man who had interrupted their intimate conversation.

  Before Brooke could respond, Charlie said smoothly, “I am her fiancé.”

  With that, Charlie gently took Brooke’s hand within his own and led Brooke to the dance floor. He only glanced back to narrow his eyes at Andrew with a very clear warning embedded in them.

  The music began to play a slow song, and the couple got into formation. Brooke placed her hand on Charlie’s broad shoulder while he held her slim waist, and they held hands with their free hand. Charlie began to lead the dance, and Brooke followed, still incredibly baffled at what Charlie had said.