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  IN A PIRATE’S DEBT BY ELVA COBB MARTIN

  Published by Smitten Historical Romance

  An imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-946016-18-8

  Copyright © 2017 by Elva Cobb Martin

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by Karthick Srinivasan

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: lpcbooks.com

  For more information on this book and the author, visit: http://www.elvamartin.com or http://carolinaromancewithelvamartin.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “In a Pirate’s Debt by Elva Cobb Martin, published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version (KJV).

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas: Eddie Jones, Kathryn Davis, Pegg Thomas, Shonda Savage, Brian Cross, Judah Raine, and Lucie Winborne

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Martin, Elva Cobb.

  In a Pirate’s Debt / Elva Cobb Martin 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PRAISE FOR IN A PIRATE’S DEBT

  Looking for adventure, romance, pirates? Go no further. In a Pirate’s Debt is one of the most adventurous books I’ve read in quite some time. It starts off with a bang and then continues to explode with one exciting scene after another. From the Caribbean to Charleston to the Atlantic and then back again, there are storms, battles, intrigue, and plenty of romance. Throw in some great characters and a nasty villain, and this is a book that will keep you entertained until the end. In addition, In a Pirate’s Debt is a refreshingly clean read with a strong Christian message that will remain with you long after you turn the last page.

  ~ MaryLu Tyndall

  Author of She Walks in Power

  Elva Cobb Martin has written a real page turner in her novel, In a Pirate’s Debt. From the opening line, paragraph, page, and chapter she captures your imagination and carries you into her story. Most of the time, you would not find yourself pulling for a pirate, but in this case, her main character, Lucas, the infamous Captain Bloodstone, evolves into a hero in every sense of the word. You’ll be glad you read this story.

  ~ Mark L. Hopkins

  Syndicated columnist, author of Journey to Gettysburg

  This action-packed story is set in a time when pirates ruled the sea and money ruled the land, a time when the brutal seemed to easily bypass the laws of God and man. In Elva Cobb Martin’s tale, the schemes of one wicked man who preys on the weak and defenseless is eventually overthrown by the power of love.

  ~ Martha Jacks Batten, PhD

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my grandson, Samuel Timothy Martin, who loves pirates—the good ones—who sailed the seas in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. They were known as privateers and buccaneers, like our fictional hero Captain Bloodstone.

  They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep

  (Psalm 107:23-24 KJV).

  Acknowledgments

  I want to give a hearty thanks to Dwayne, my husband and computer helper when glitches threatened to highjack my sanity. And for understanding the fast meals and allowing me to sit at the computer hour after hour without interruption. Thank you, dear husband and friend.

  I thank Foothills Writers’ Guild of Anderson, South Carolina, the talented group who first encouraged me to become a writer. I want to thank Yvonne Lehman for her friendship, for the many conferences she has directed that helped me, and the critiques and advice she and her writers’ group freely gave.

  I want to express my appreciation to all my writer friends in the South Carolina chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers, especially Edie Melson, Fran Strickland, Kelsey Messner, Angela Major, and Misty Beller. You have helped and encouraged me in so many ways. Thank you. I thank all the readers and reviewers who have given of their time to read and write a review. I truly appreciate each of you.

  I thank Lighthouse Publishers of the Carolinas—Eddie Jones, Yvonne Lehman, and Kathryn Davis—for deciding my book was worthy of publication. And thank you, Kathryn, for your great editing that has made this novel so much better.

  Most of all, I thank my heavenly Father and Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, who have been with me in this effort, inspiring me to write, helping me strive for excellence, and keeping me on task. Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ (Philippians 1:6, NKJV).

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Author’s Note

  A Gift for You

  Thank you for investing in this book. As a thank you, LPC Books would love to offer you advance review Kindle copies of our forthcoming books. These Kindle ebooks will be delivered to your Kindle reader. We release around 40 books a year. You pick which ones you wish to receive. Visit the link below to sign up for our FREE Kindle ebook subscriber list:

  https://lpcbooks.com/free-ebook/

  CHAPTER 1

  Jamaica, 1720

  Marry Sir Roger Poole? Never! Travay Allston rushed up the staircase and into her bedroom. She eased the door shut and sank against it, hoping the men downstairs had not heard her flight. She wrapped her arms around her middle to prevent loud sobs from escaping. Tears ran down her cheeks onto her dinner gown. How could her stepfather, Karston Reed, gamble away the plantation and her hand in marriage in a game of cards? Lighting a small candle, she sprang into action. How much time did she have?

  Travay snatched the men’s clothing she’d stashed under a floorboard after her mother’s untimely death. Somehow she had known the day would come when she would have to leave secretly. She quickly donned breeches, shirt, and knee boots. The oversized top required a belt, and she contrived one from a scrap of cloth. She flattened her curls tighter to her head with extra pins and struggled to stuff the mass under a cap. Her fingers brushed against her mother’s locket. Oh, Mama, I miss you!

  From the back of a drawer, she retrieved a l
eather coin purse filled with her savings from seventeen birthdays and stuffed it into her pocket.

  Swallowing the huge lump in her throat, Travay swung her mother’s dark cloak over her shoulders. Her reflection in the candlelit mirror caught her attention. A slender young man stared back at her with troubled blue eyes and a stray auburn ringlet springing from under a sailor’s cap.

  Travay tucked in the curl and lifted her chin. Somehow she would make it to Kingston. She would secure passage on a ship to Charles Town to her aunt, her only living relative. She pushed a small knife into the top of her boot like she’d seen her stepfather’s overseer do, and darted from the room.

  Could she make it to Kingston parish and to her mother’s old minister friend before her stepfather and Sir Roger discovered she was missing?

  A gusty wind with the threat of rain whipped across her hot face as she hastened down the servants’ steps at the back of the house. The moon sailed in and out of clouds like a ghostly galleon, and she sought the shadows while running across the lawn to the barn. The slaves would be in their cabins at this late hour, including Ruby Grace, her personal maid. A sob escaped Travay’s lips. The young African girl, Travay’s only friend, might bear the brunt of this night’s decision. Her stepfather would assume the slave knew of her mistress’s plan to run away, and he would order the girl beaten.

  A horse’s soft nicker met Travay as she entered the shadowy stable. She slipped the bridle over Arundel’s head, tossed the saddle onto the silky black back, and tightened the cinch. Opening the stable door, she led the filly out and mounted. At the touch of Travay’s knee and the sound of her whisper, the horse paced across the stable yard toward the main entrance.

  A high-pitched neigh trumpeted across the front lawn as they neared the house. Travay stiffened. The two men inside could not miss hearing Sir Roger’s stallion, which was tied at the steps. Arundel tossed her head, and Travay urged her to a gallop.

  Twisting in the saddle as they passed the front of the plantation house, Travay saw a lantern move across the front window toward the staircase. Her stepfather and Sir Roger would be calling up to her. How long would it take them to realize she had run away?

  She leaned forward and urged the surefooted Arundel down the ribbon of road and onward, past wind-blown acres of sugarcane that weaved and stretched toward her like sentinels guarding her escape. A crack of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening boom of thunder. Travay trembled but did not slacken the pace.

  Before they reached the crossroads, hoofbeats pounded behind them. Travay bit the side of her lip and tasted blood. It could only be Roger Poole on the mount he’d ridden to Allston Hall, reputedly the fastest horse on the island.

  She turned Arundel left at the crossroads, hoping she could make it past the field worker huts and onto the open road toward Kingston before Sir Roger caught up with her. Surely the minister and his wife would shelter her until she could secure passage to Charles Town. The moon disappeared behind turbulent clouds, enveloping her and Arundel in the safety of darkness. “Thank you, God—if you’re up there,” she whispered.

  Half a mile down the road, the salty scent of the wind jerked Travay’s head up. She clenched her teeth. How could she have taken the fork to the ocean instead of the road to Kingston? Confusion fogged her brain as her pursuer grew closer.

  Arundel came to a bone-jolting halt at the edge of the cliff overlooking the Caribbean. The filly snorted and reared. Travay gripped the reins and moved the horse as far back as possible into a shadowy grove. What should she do? Sir Roger would soon be upon them. Gripped with indecision, she leaned across Arundel’s hot neck and patted her, trying to calm the animal, while a cold sweat dotted her own brow.

  Roger Poole reined in and headed for the thicket. The moon sailed from behind a cloud and revealed his sickening smirk. “I know you’re in there, Travay. Come out, my dear.”

  His lustful laugh, the odor of stale tobacco, and his heavy perfume carried on the wind. Shivers of revulsion drew Travay’s stomach into a knot, as had all the man’s advances since her mother’s death. Arundel pawed the soft earth.

  “I’ll never marry you, Sir Roger. I don’t care what my stepfather promised. Why don’t you leave me alone?” She ground the words out between her teeth.

  “You want to have a little rendezvous now, right here at Lovers’ Leap? Then you’d marry me for sure, dear girl. Yes?” His voice was hoarse with rum and anticipation.

  Travay froze and clutched the reins tighter. Would he dare? And in this deserted area of the coast, who would hear even her loudest scream? The saliva dried in her mouth. Then a memory, an old story, swept across her chaotic mind. Was the legend true about the girl who jumped from the cliff into the bay below and lived to tell about it?

  Sir Roger dismounted and tied the stallion’s reins to a small tree. Now his threatening form blocked her escape up the road. He stood with his fists propped on his hips. “Why do you think I came to Jamaica? I watched you growing up in Charles Town and knew one day I’d make you mine, whether I won your hand gambling or by some other method.”

  The moon cast an evil glow on his handsome, falcon-sharp features. Approaching his mid-thirties, he was still as strong and wiry as younger men—and attractive to most women, if the servants’ tales were true. Tonight his silk cloak swirled around him in the wind like the ebony wings of a bird of prey. His arrogant voice did not move her, but the way he accented the words by some other method chilled her.

  Travay tried to swallow, but her throat was bone dry. Taking a deep breath that ended with a sob, she turned Arundel and coaxed her out of the copse. She leaned close to the horse’s wet neck and whispered, “Forgive me, my sweet friend. Jump high and wide. If we die tonight, we die together.” Please God, don’t let us get caught on the rocks.

  Arundel blew air through her nose, arched her neck, and sidestepped toward the figure blocking their way up the road.

  “That’s my girl.” Sir Roger sauntered closer and reached for the bridle.

  With a gut-wrenching cry, Travay wheeled her mount around toward the sea and swung her riding crop down on the powerful rump. Arundel reared with a high-pitched squeal and shot forward.

  Behind her, curses exploded from Sir Roger’s mouth.

  Travay screamed as she and Arundel hurtled over the cliff’s edge. The mare’s body slammed into the water. Travay’s forehead collided with the horse’s neck as the sea sucked them both into its shadowy depths, shutting out sight, sound, and breath.

  Captain Lucas “Bloodstone” Barrett rowed up the bay at twilight with Sydney, his cabin boy, to fish for sea trout. When they reached the cove close to a cliff’s rock wall, Lucas brought up his oar and set the anchor. He removed his leather baldric, which held his rapier and pistols, and launched a hook into the deep water. The boy cast his line on the other side of the boat.

  For several days, Barrett had kept his brigantine hidden in an inlet on the backside of the island until the careening of the ship’s hull could be completed. His raucous, sweating, and bare-chested crew had labored in the southern sun all day. Scraping the barnacles that had attached to the underside of the ship and patching places that had begun to rot had taken three days. Tonight, in celebration that the difficult, dangerous job was done, he knew his men would drink themselves into a rum stupor. They would pick quarrels and fight amidst the cursing and vulgarities Bloodstone no longer enjoyed.

  As pirates went, they were as tough as any. And he had to command their respect at all times, or he’d find a mutiny on his hands. Fishing, when he got a chance, provided a little diversion from their offensive behaviors.

  “Sydney, you be sure and watch that line. These waters used to be full of sea trout. I am expecting to take a catch back to the ship.”

  “Sure, Cap’n. I got me eyeballs peeled for the lit’lest quiver in this here string.” The thirteen-year-old leaned over the side of the yawl.

  Lucas’s line jerked and grew taut, then slackened as the f
ish slipped away. He bit back a word he’d been trying to eliminate from his vocabulary since meeting Reverend Wentworth.

  A terrible scream from the rock cliff above riveted his attention upward. A horse and rider flew over the longboat and plunged into the bay a stone’s throw away from Lucas’ boat. Waves rocked and scraped their small craft against the rock wall.

  “Blimey!” Sydney dropped his short pole. “Cap’n, you see that?”

  Lucas dropped his fishing line and searched the churning water where the two had disappeared. Iron bands tightened across his chest. “Yes. May God have mercy on them.”

  “I trove it was just a boy in that saddle! What we gonna do?”

  Pebbles slid down the rock embankment above them. Lucas motioned for Sydney to be quiet. A man’s angry voice above them loaded the evening air with curses. Next, the sound of galloping hooves confirmed someone leaving the top of the cliff.

  The captain peeled off his shirt, stuck a knife between his teeth, and dove into the bay. The moon sailed from behind a cloud and revealed the dark forms of the horse and rider plunging about in the deep water below the surface. Lucas swam down toward them, praying he would be in time. He reached the limp form of the rider, whose long hair floated up into his face. He brushed the strands from his vision and loosened the boot caught in a stirrup. The horse, struggling to rise, had its reins caught between two rocks. Lucas hacked them loose, then pulled the rider to the surface. The horse surfaced beyond them and swam toward the opposite shore, emerged, shook, and trotted away.

  Lucas swam back to the boat with the rider in tow. He pushed the cold body with its deathly pale face into the boat and then climbed in himself. He slung the person and his dripping mane of hair over his lap and pounded on the undersized back. As the soft curve of a bosom pressed onto his knees, Lucas’ hand stopped in midair.

  The person coughed and spewed vomit on Lucas’ boots. “Stop it, you’re killing me.” The irate, feminine voice left no doubt about gender.