Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge Page 2

  Elyssa leaned on the railing. Wakes the boat left in the black water below whirred and frothed, reminding her how far she’d come from sitting in her father’s drawing room with her needlework. Did she miss home? She wasn’t sure. Yes, she missed Papa. Had made it a point to send him a letter at every port. But she didn’t miss the pomp and circumstance expected from a young lady. Not now after masquerading as a boy. Not after witnessing firsthand the carousing of men after dark. So exciting, so exotic, these taverns they’ve visited in port. She longed to enjoy life without the constraints of social etiquette.

  Men, they had freedoms. Women were expected to feast at the feet of their fathers and husbands, and be thankful. Subordinate, ornamental, quiet—that was not for Elyssa. Bless her father for she sorely tested his patience with her willful antics and talk of women in far off lands exercising their freedoms, establishing businesses and depending on no man. Her dream was to be one of them. Someday.

  “Elysen, is it?”

  She spun around and came face-to-face with her pirate friend. An ugly sneer crossed his even uglier mug.

  “That yer real name, boy?”

  Elyssa stiffened. He was definitely on to her. Careful not to show fear, she kept her voice low and steady. “’Tis the name I answer to.”

  “Iff’n ya want to keep it that way, lass, you’ll answer to me, now.” He stepped in close, pinning her between the rail and the wall of the poop deck. “Aye, I know yer secret. An’ yer gonna do as I say lest I squeal. Ya know what they do to pullets on pirate ships?”

  Shivers crawled over her spine at his nasty chuckle.

  Her gaze shifted past him to the others singing, dancing, and drinking. How long before any of the men noticed the two of them shrouded in the shadows? And if she alerted the pirates, what beastly nightmare would await her? What can I do?

  His smile slowly faded. “Hold still and don’t make a peep.” He grabbed the collar of her tunic and yanked her to him. His cracked lips smothered her mouth whilst his free hand groped at her backend. Elyssa gagged on his fetid tongue and struggled to be free of him. Grunting and grappling, she pushed and pounded against him to no avail. Her flesh smarted from his mauling hands, her neck cramped from writhing. Unable and unwilling to breath, she slapped her palms against the wall again and again.

  Dear Lord, help me!

  CHAPTER 2

  “By thunder, Kipp! What’s that infernal noise?” Blackthorn slammed his fist upon the table serving as his desk. He’d been weighing options with his quartermaster and best mate. Though the Maraville provisions would get them by for another couple weeks or so, the supplies weren’t enough. They had to decide whether to continue preying on the shipping lanes or chancing a friendly port to trade their newly acquired goods. But how could anyone make a decision with that consistent smacking against the outside wall?

  “Sounds like the boys are scufflin’ over another bad game of bones,” Kipp said.

  “We can’t have these distractions.” Blackthorn’s mood soured. He hated distractions. “I want to make a decision tonight.”

  “Aye.” Kipp finished off his cup of rum and stood. “We’ll need to set a true course soon. I’ll go break it up.”

  “Tell them they’ll lose their passage if I’m disturbed again.”

  Kipp snorted. He knew Blackthorn would never carry out the threat and throw anyone overboard. At least not for such a minor infraction.

  Blackthorn returned to adding the cargo items into his log book. The crates of fine fabrics from the merchant ship would fetch a hearty sum. Enough to stock up on provisions and let the lads drink until they saw a flock of moons. Assuming they risk dropping anchor. Even in friendly seaports there were those who would gladly collect the bounty on Blackthorn and his men. He chuckled to himself. And what a gracious bounty it was.

  Blackthorn had no problem preying on unsuspecting vessels to keep his men and ship healthy. But he wasn’t blind. Men like him were kings for only a short while. Eventually, he would meet his death for his crimes. Until then, he intended to uphold his oath of allegiance to the brotherhood.

  His door slammed open. Kipp shoved Rathbone through the threshold, pulling along the young runt by his sleeve.

  “What’s this?” Blackthorn set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. This would be interesting. For Kipp to bring in these fellows whilst Blackthorn conducted his business, they’d had to have breached the articles they swore to.

  “M’ ’pologies, Capt’n,” Rathbone said. He wisely kept his stare on the floor.

  “Caught him takin’ liberties on the lad,” Kipp said.

  Blackthorn crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh?”

  Rathbone’s head shot up. “No. He’s mistaken.” His mouth hardly moved as he spat out the words.

  Kipp slowly shook his head. “No mistakin’ where yer hands were, mate.”

  Rathbone began to speak, but Blackthorn held up a stern hand. He slid his gaze to the boy. The lad refused to make eye contact with anyone, but his eyes darted nervously about the room and his arms were wrapped soundly around his waist. Odd, the boy acted more like a scared…poppet.

  Curse it! Could it be? A lass on board his ship. How did this happen?

  “What’s your name boy?” Blackthorn asked, trying to control the sudden anger threatening to explode.

  “Elysen, sir.”

  Blackthorn had to strain to hear the girl. “Well then, Elysen, what do you have to say?”

  “’Tis a misunderstanding, is all, sir.”

  “A misunderstanding. I see.” No truths would be spoken in the present company. Just as well. ’Twas best to contain the situation.

  Blast it! He flicked his quill on his desk, more than a little plagued by what this snake had done.

  “Rathbone. You are aware you have violated Article Nine of the code, are you not?”

  The wretch’s jaw muscles worked feverishly. He’d been caught, and he knew what came next. He nodded once.

  “Punishment for meddling with a boy,” he paused to look at Rathbone’s trifle, “or woman, is death.”

  Elysen let a tiny gasp slip.

  Kipp gawked at the girl, realization had struck. “Shit.” Blackthorn almost laughed at his friend. Almost. Everything had changed. The whole evening of planning had gone down the pissdale. They now had a very real problem.

  “Now tell me again, your name, lass.”

  “El—Elyssa. Elyssa Calhoun Montgomery.”

  The lass watched as Blackthorn rose from his seat, but when her eyes collided with his, she quickly looked away. He moved in front of her, and he could swear she would melt from fear.

  “You’ve got much to explain, lass.” The poor thing trembled.

  “Kipp,” Blackthorn said. “Shackle Rathbone below.”

  “But, Capt’n.”

  “Not now, Rathbone. You can explain yourself to the men tomorrow.”

  “Come on, ya bastard.” Rathbone struggled against Kipp’s grip on his arm, growling until Kipp poked a pistol into his side.

  Blackthorn swiped the small cap off the lass and pulled away the scarf wrapped around her head, throwing them both to his desk. The short braid of hair fell into a long auburn plait down her back.

  “What the devil were you thinking, boarding my ship as a lad? Do you have any idea what will become of you now? Do you know what harm awaits you? What terrible torture… Look at me when I address you.”

  Eyes of brown, as rich in color as his finest rum, finally met his. Now that she gave him the full effect of her fair face, he found her a fetching little pigeon. Tears spilled down her bronzed cheeks. Aye, and she knew well enough her predicament.

  “’Twasn’t my wish, sir.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’d have stayed on the Maravilla had your man Rathbone not threatened to give me away.”

  “Did he?” That rotten bugger. ’Twas certain he had nasty plans for the lass. Probably aimed to toss her to the sea before anyone became wise to the girl. Blackthorn never did c
are for the bastard. Not since that incident involving a tavern wench back in Port Royal. He knew deep in his gut Rathbone had something to do with her death. Rathbone would get his due. Blackthorn would see to it.

  “How is it you are disguised as a boy on a merchant vessel?”

  “I had no choice. I couldn’t let Papa down.” Her voice hitched up, frantic as if she didn’t want to disappoint her father even now out in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. “Papa needed my help. I would be a good daughter. I didn’t want him to worry. He was always worrying.”

  “You’re father made you do this?” He waved his hand over her attire.

  “No.”

  “Speak up, child.”

  She rubbed her arm, hesitant to speak further. When she would say no more, he raised his brow for encouragement. “No. Dobie did. My husband.”

  “Husband?” Intriguing.

  “I’d do anything for Papa.” The words began to pour out of her, as if she were confessing her sins instead of explaining herself. “Even marrying a banker’s wayward son to satisfy his debts. The merger allowed Papa to keep his shipping business. He won’t have to wonder any longer whether he can feed my younger sisters. Lord Montgomery was ever so generous.”

  The name suddenly became familiar. “Lord Samuel Montgomery?”

  She nodded

  “The Lord Samuel Montgomery?”

  She nodded once more.

  Daughter-in-law to the very wealthy Lord Samuel Montgomery? Here on his ship? Sounds of gold coins clamored in his ears. What price would she fetch for her safe return? This certainly made his evening more complicated. Blackthorn’s temples throbbed from the makings of a royal headache. And still the lass had yet to tell him everything. “This doesn’t explain why you are masking as a boy.”

  She wrung her hands, in and over, over and in, shifting her weight from foot to foot, unable to stand still. Fidgety little chit.

  “Dobie wanted to open his own exchange in the West Indies. But Lord Montgomery wouldn’t finance his trip, not one penny. He insisted Dobie was too irresponsible and careless.” Blackthorn would agree, careless with his woman. What kind of fool dresses up his wife and drags her along across an ocean, putting her virtue and life in danger?

  “’Twas one reason he thought I’d be a good match for his son as a sensible wife. Angry, Dobie decided he didn’t need his father’s help. He’d make his own way, and once in San Juan, he’d get by on his name. I begged him to take me with him. I couldn’t let Lord Montgomery renege on his settlement with Papa. I just couldn’t.”

  “And your husband agreed?”

  “Well, no. I promised to find work in bookkeeping, or as a serving girl in a tavern, anything. I’d give him anything to help build his wealth. I’d do whatever it took, just so he’d bring me.”

  Blackthorn admired the love and loyalty she had for her family, risking her life for those closest to her. Not unlike that of the brethren. Yet, he didn’t feel her husband had her best interest in mind, only his.

  “And so he signed you up as a seaman on a Spanish bucket.” He couldn’t hide his disgust if he wanted to. “How did you keep your secret? Surely you’ve had your monthly courses?” Perhaps he should have been more delicate in asking such a personal question. But he never was much for dancing around proper etiquette when he wanted answers. Besides, he found the reddening in her cheeks curiously alluring.

  “I, um, I haven’t had my, um, courses. Dobie thought if I worked as hard as a man, drank as hard as a man, and want to really be a man, my body would follow suit.”

  ’Twas more likely because she was half starved. What a skinny thing. A woman should have more meat on those curves. That’s the way Blackthorn liked them. Maybe he should have Hobbs whip her up some lobscouse.

  “Dobie said I’d need to pretend to fall ill should, um, it happen.”

  Dobie. Dobie. Ugh, Blackthorn didn’t much care for this lackey. Immature, selfish, neglectful, swab. “Where is Dobie now?” Because Blackthorn would like to have a word with this lout.

  She averted her gaze to the farthest corner of his cabin. “He’s dead. Fell from the yardarm, broke his neck.”

  Blackthorn drew a long breath. “I see.”

  He had enough problems. Now he had a potentially profitable widow on board. What was he going to do with her? Where would he keep her? ’Twas bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, or so the tales go. Despite the claims otherwise, most of the Sanctum men would never hurt a woman. Still, they were a superstitious lot and he couldn’t let her loose on his ship and risk something happening to her. Especially once the men passed their judgment on Rathbone. Nay, this did not bode well for Blackthorn. He had little choices, and Blackthorn hated that.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  Blackthorn tried not to smirk, but he did anyhow. The reputation of a pirate afforded him many advantages. He’d be telling false truths if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing her squirm. He circled around her, only a hair’s breadth from touching her.

  “Nay, lass. I’m not going to kill you. But I haven’t decided what I shall do with you, either.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “Though a few savory ideas come to mind.”

  He rounded back in front of her and peered down. Her tunic hung close to her body. The urge to see if she wore bindings to help her look more like a boy was too strong. He hooked a finger into the collar. She squeezed her eyes shut. The poor lass. He shouldn’t toy with her so. She trembled something awful. Never mind that. The cur that he was, he wanted to see what wares she hid. And he wasn’t disappointed. Even with the binds tight, her breasts brimmed over the top. How uncomfortable she must be. The rapid rise and fall of her chest reminded him of a petrified rabbit trying desperately not to be seen by a passing fox. Oh, but this fox saw her. And he was beginning to think she might be a tasty morsel.

  “Please, Captain Blackthorn.” The lass opened her eyes. “Please, have mercy. I’d rather you just kill me than lay a hand on me.”

  “Dear, Elyssa. You flatter yourself. I said nothing about taking you.” Though he was well into imagining so. What pleasure would a lass bring who dares to willingly cast herself among pirates? He would be most interested to find out. If he were a lesser man, he’d already have her stripped of her clothes. Damned moral restraints. Sometimes, just sometimes, he’d wished he could live up to the lecherous reputation and false tales bestowed upon him by the fearful. He wouldn’t of course. Never would he take from a woman’s virtue what she wouldn’t freely give. But her jewels and coin, well now, that’s another matter.

  “Besides, I’m not the merciful type.” His statement didn’t bring ease to her stiff posture. Wisely so. She was still prey.

  “What would you have me do, then? Can I prove to you my keep?” She realized all too late the implications of her suggestion.

  “Tantalizing offer.” He finally moved away, giving her breathing room before she fainted from lack of air.

  Quickly, she amended. “I can mend ropes and sails.”

  “Mending ropes and sail will not be nearly enough to remedy the serious position you have put me in, lass. No doubt the entire ship knows about you by now. Understand, I can’t let you leave this room. This is inconvenient, you see, because this cabin is also where I take my solitude…and sleep. So, dear girl, you have imposed upon me greatly.”

  Worry knitted her brow and she gnawed on her plump bottom lip. Ripe lips. Lips that beckoned to be kissed. Blazes! Back on task, man. You’ve more important matters to chaw over than her mouth.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Nay, I don’t think you do.” He perched upon the edge of his table. “The moment you stepped into my quarters, you lost your freedom.” The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became, sharing his cabin with a woman. One he wasn’t even bedding. Bah! And how the hell was he supposed to conduct business with her there? Ah yes, he was growing ever more agitated. “Consider yourself my prisoner.”

  “P-prisoner?”

/>   White teeth chewed upon her lip again. Look away. He didn’t, of course, and that rankled him further. “Aye, and as such, you will indulge to my whims. A fair trade for what would await you outside that door.” Nothing wrong with putting more fear into the lass lest she decide to do something rash.

  “But—”

  “Tut!” He walked around his desk and sat. Dipping his quill in the inkwell, he went back to cataloguing cargo in his log book. Without looking up, he gave his first instruction. “You may remove your binds now.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  He pointed with his quill. “You’re bindings, remove them. You’ve no need for them any longer.” He went back to jotting on the paper. “I won’t have you pretending to be someone you’re not in my presence. You should be relieved.”

  Relieved? Elyssa was anything but relieved. She was trapped in this cabin with a pirate captain, one who wanted her to disrobe. He said he wouldn’t kill or rape her and, strangely, she believed him. Why, she did not know. Perhaps it was because he could’ve already done so. She’d heard tales of pirates keeping female prisoners for their enjoyment. Most of those stories ended with and she was never heard from again. Elyssa might find out firsthand if there was any truth to the stories.

  Captain Blackthorn looked up from his book and scowled. “That wasn’t a suggestion, lass. Remove your bindings.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “The knots are in the back.” Elyssa hated to say it. What a terrible mess this would lead to.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Remove your tunic,” he said, putting down his quill and rising.

  “Must I?”

  “Do you want to risk my good nature with fruitless questions? No? Remove the tunic or I shall do it for you.”

  In the last several months, Elyssa had faced monumental decisions. Though the choices were hers, they weren’t really choices at all. They had always been made for the good of another. So it seemed that way even now. She crossed her arms down, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and tugged the fabric up and over. The cool air landed upon her bare shoulders. Goose skin puckered across her flesh. Was it because of the draft landing upon her naked skin, or the heated expression passing over the captain’s amused face?