In a Pirate's Debt Read online

  She sat down and ate her first hearty breakfast in two days. The captain’s presence hung about her as Mama Penn helped her dress and did her hair—his eyes that flashed when angry, his strong arms, the way his lips had brushed hers that time on the deck. These thoughts made her cheeks burn, and she turned her face away from Mama Penn’s quick eyes.

  Was he thinking about her? Was that why she couldn’t seem to banish him from her brain? She had to face him again sometime so she might as well get it over with. She walked over to the trunk of clothing—some of the captain’s ill-gotten gains, no doubt—and searched for a suitable dress. She hated wearing someone else’s clothes, but what choice did she have? She found a blue silk dress that seemed to be her size. “Mama Penn, where could the captain have gotten this chest? Was some woman captured who owned these beautiful dresses?”

  The older woman stopped straightening up the cabin and turned to Travay. “Most likely she was rescued and returned home, and the trunk found later. Some pirate probably thought to take them dresses to his wife or daughter, but the captain confiscated it.”

  Travay dropped the dress in her hands. How many women had the captain rescued? A better question: How many had he kissed like he kissed her?

  CHAPTER 6

  Lucas traversed the quarterdeck, trying not to go back to the cabin and check on Travay again. Her continued stupor worried him. If she didn’t get back to normal soon, what could he do? The doc said she’d be all right, to just give her time. But what did he know about sheltered young women like Travay? All he’d ever treated were pirates and women of the night in the various ports they frequented.

  “No change yet with our lady?” Thorpe stepped up on the quarterdeck.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Bloodstone stopped pacing and leaned across the rail with his face turned away from his lieutenant.

  “You, uh, like her?” Thorpe pulled a pipe from his pocket and took time lighting it with two small pieces of flint.

  “I do not know what you are getting at, Thorpe. We rescued her. She is a guest on our ship. We are glad she got her memory back, and we will deliver her to her aunt in Charles Town next week. End of story.” Bloodstone looked into his lieutenant’s face with dismissal and tried to control the quiver of his eyelid.

  A voice from behind them interrupted.

  “May I join you, gentlemen?”

  They turned as one man.

  Travay Allston stood before them, thinner and paler but as beautiful as Bloodstone had ever seen her. She clutched her blue ruffled skirts against the breeze that snapped the sails. A few curls escaped her upswept hairdo and blew softly about her face.

  Both men whipped off their hats and bowed.

  Lucas smiled. “It’s good to see you up and about, Miss Allston.”

  “Thank you, Captain Bloodstone.”

  “Yes, it is good to see you looking so well, Miss Allston.” Thorpe fidgeted with his hat, then turned to the captain. “I guess I had better get below and see about the crew.” He left grinning.

  Travay turned to look at the crowded deck below. “I am glad you released the galley slaves. What a terrible sentence it would be for any man.”

  “I know very well, having once served at the mercy of the Spanish in the bowel of one of their ships for almost two years.”

  She turned wide eyes on him. “But what happened? How did you end up there?”

  Lucas looked out to sea. How long would he be able to keep his real identity secret from her and from most of the crew, who only knew him as Captain Bloodstone? “It’s a long story, milady—one which I doubt you’d really be interested in hearing.”

  “On the contrary, I would like to hear it. Were you a runaway indentured servant like Mr. Pitt told me?”

  So Pitt was up to his usual methods, trying to discredit the captain. Thankfully, the majority of the crew didn’t believe the first mate—most of the time. But would Travay? He examined the lovely face lifted toward him. A frown creased the ivory brow. Reverend Wentworth would say, “The truth is better than untruth. One lie will require another.”

  He looked back out across the white-capped waves. He would tell her some of the story, even though he hated to dredge up the memories. And if she guessed who he really was, he’d just have to face the consequences. “My parents suffered financial losses in England because of their faith and chose to go to Charles Town as indentured servants rather than to debtors’ prison. Their master made our lives very hard. When I was sixteen, he sent the two of them to his Jamaican sugar plantation, but the ship was captured by the Spanish.”

  “Oh, my.”

  Lucas glanced at Travay. Her lips tightened, and her shoulders slumped. His gut turned. She was thinking of the Inquisition. He stiffened. “I have never found out exactly what happened to them, but I intend to, if it’s the last thing I do.” Why muddy the water with the facts the Spanish captain had revealed? The man may have been lying.

  Travay gripped the railing to steady herself. The captain’s face had turned gray. His jaw became granite, and a muscle jumped in his neck. No wonder. She closed her eyes a moment to block out thoughts of the horrible Inquisition his parents might have suffered. “But how did you end up in a Spanish galley?”

  “I ran away after my parents disappeared. I tried to get to Spain to seek information, but I was captured and sent to the galley.”

  The scars. Captain Bloodstone was not a criminal, but a victim. But it was only his word. Could she trust him?

  “Then what happened?”

  “Later, a pirate ship took the Spanish ship I was on, and that’s how I—”

  “Ended up in this terrible pirate trade?” Travay couldn’t keep the scorn out of her voice. “Why didn’t you leave that pirate ship? Surely you had chances. But you joined them instead.” How had she ever thought he was handsome or compassionate? Her father had died at the hands of pirates, and that was when her life and her mother’s life had changed forever. “I can’t get to Charles Town and off this ship soon enough.”

  Lucas turned a stiff face to Travay. “I am a privateer, not a pirate, Miss Allston, and I have things to attend to. Please go back to your cabin. You are not safe wandering aboard this crowded ship.”

  “Gladly.” The coldness in her voice matched his.

  As Travay made her way back to the cabin, Pitt stepped out from among the crew and blocked her way. His cagey brown eyes devoured her. Today he was half-dressed, with strong brown arms and chest exposed and a sweat cloth tied around his brow, holding back his blond hair. A scent of sweat and his overdone perfume sickened her.

  “May I escort you back to your door, milady?”

  “No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  He continued to stand before her amid catcalls from the watching crew.

  Her stomach lurched, and her heart jumped into her throat as he stepped close enough for her to feel his hot breath touch her cheek.

  “Get back to work, Pitt.” The captain’s voice rang loud and clear from the quarterdeck. “And all the rest of you, too. Sydney, escort Miss Allston to her cabin.”

  Sydney ran up from behind the crew and stood beside Travay.

  Pitt smirked and stood back to allow them to pass.

  The next evening, Lucas began to sense in the pit of his stomach that something was going on between his crew and the galley slaves. He had given the slaves liberty on the ship, and the crew was none too happy having to pull all the chores. He was sure that was it, and he thought about dividing the work now that the released men had had a week of recovery. Anything to keep the peace until they landed in Charles Town.

  But just after supper, before the captain could make any kind of announcement, fighting broke out, due in part to the rum some of the crew had slipped from the stores. It escalated to fist and sword fights. It was all Lucas, Thorpe, and Sinbad could do to break it up. There were quite a few injuries for Edwin Bruce to attend to.

  Lucas found the doctor below deck in the sick bay, stitching up a w
ound. “Do you think you could send Mama Penn and Seema to help tend the wounded?” Bruce asked him. “You know Sydney is also here as of yesterday. But he’s young, and surely he’ll kick whatever is getting him down.”

  Lucas looked at his surgeon, who was none too good for drink himself, and knew he’d better send the two women—or else he might lose crew members. Not to mention Sydney.

  He walked over to the pallet on which the boy lay tossing with a fever. He stooped down, a frown creasing his forehead. “Sydney, dear boy, I am so sorry you’re sick. We are going to do everything we can to get you well. You hear me?”

  The boy opened bleary eyes for a second. “Thank ye, Cap’n Bloodstone.”

  During the fighting, Travay lay on her bunk, trying to block out the sounds. Loud curses and ungodly shrieks filtered through the walls. Was this what hell was like? Her lips curled, and nausea rose in her throat. Thank God she would soon be with her aunt in Charles Town. She hoped she never saw another pirate ship.

  After it quieted down and Mama Penn and Seema were sent for, Travay turned over in the bunk and wished for sleep. But something sinister in the warm air fought her. It seemed the room had grown darker than usual, even with the windows the captain’s cabin boasted. The porthole on the opposite wall beamed with a sliver of light. She turned her head and concentrated on it.

  She had almost dozed off when she heard the cabin door open. Assuming it was Mama Penn and Seema returning, she kept her face to the wall.

  She took a long sleepy breath. A jangle near the table and a scent of sweat and rotting fruit tugged at her consciousness. She frowned, turned over, and opened her eyes. Byron Pitt stood over her. In the ray of moonlight, the muscles in his shoulders glinted as if oiled. She bolted upright and opened her mouth to scream, but he bent and clamped a hand across her mouth.

  “Don’t do that, milady.” His voice was husky. “This can be a pleasant time for both of us, or just one of us if you don’t cooperate. Besides, everyone’s down on the lower deck, dealing with the injuries.” With his other hand, he cast the blanket from her. His lustful eyes traveled over her form, clad only in her nightgown. He pulled her up to his chest. Travay could see the sweat on his upper lip and feel his hot breath on her face and neck. His body odor and overdone cologne turned her stomach. She beat her fists against his arms and his head, but he clasped her even tighter, arching her back into his embrace. He removed his hand from her lips and crushed his mouth down on hers. She pounded against him and pulled his hair. He grabbed her hands and twisted them behind her.

  Dear God, if you are there, help me.

  He lifted his head a moment. “Come on, you are enjoying this as much as I am, milady, and we have much more to come.” A throaty laugh escaped his lips, and a chill traveled down Travay’s spine despite the warmth in the cabin and the heat emanating from his body.

  She gasped a ragged breath and screamed, but he lowered his mouth on hers again. He loosened his hold on her momentarily, and taking advantage of his lapse, she managed to raise a knee and kick hard into his groin. He swore and fell back, doubled over.

  Sobbing, Travay scrambled over him toward the door. It flew open and almost hit her.

  Lucas stood in the entrance, his sword drawn. He looked at her and then at Byron, who managed to straighten up. A menacing growl came from Lucas’ throat.

  Pitt staggered up from his bent position and managed to grab his rapier from the table. He emitted a bellow like a mad bull and licked his lips. “Now let’s see who will captain this ship.” He lunged toward Lucas.

  Travay crawled to Mama Penn’s pallet in the corner and lit the lamp with shaking hands. Then she covered herself with the blanket and shrank back in the corner as far as she could while the furious battle waged. She lost sense of time amid the sounds of clashing swords, grunts, and heavy breathing as the two men crashed around the lamp-lit cabin, once almost stepping on her, and finally fought out the door, up the steps, and onto the deck.

  Shaking uncontrollably, she crawled to the door and pulled herself up to bolt it. She turned, leaned her back against it, and prayed her second prayer in years. “Dear God, please help me get off this ship and help Captain Bloodstone not be killed.” She slid down to a sitting position.

  She did not know how long she sat pressed against the locked entry as sounds of the deadly conflict moved back and forth across the deck above. The stamping feet and clashing swords jarred the ceiling. Crew members had evidently joined the melee, for she could hear them yelling, laughing, and crying for blood. She put her hands over her ears and lowered her chin, trying not to throw up. She wondered if Mama Penn and Seema were safe.

  Finally, silence came. Her body quit shaking, and a haze crept across her mind.

  Heavy footsteps crossed the deck, bounded down the steps, and approached the cabin door. Her head flew up. She clutched the blanket and couldn’t breathe.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Travay, are you all right?”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, she sucked in a needed breath and offered a silent prayer. Captain Bloodstone—thank God. Groaning with her bruises, she pushed herself up and unbolted the door.

  “Are you hurt?” The captain stood there in the lamplight, bleeding from a nick on his left shoulder and the side of his neck. But safe, strong.

  Travay fell into his arms with a sob.

  Lucas kicked the door shut. She clung to him, shaking, and weeping.

  “Travay, did that swine …” His voice sounded like a growl.

  “No, no,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

  “Then why are you crying so? Everything’s going to be all right. Pitt’s not dead, but he won’t be bothering anyone for some time.”

  Travay wiped the tears from her face. She reveled in the warmth emanating from him and breathed in his manly scent. She sighed—what she was about to say shocked her, yet she knew it was the truth.

  “I was afraid you … you might have been killed,” she whispered.

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb and made a noise between an exhale and a groan. In slow motion, he bent and touched her lips with his own. He pressed her so tight against him, she gasped. He cupped her head with his hand, entwined his fingers in her hair, and turned her face up to within an inch of his. She melted into his embrace. His mouth crushed down on hers. Her whole being filled with joy like she had never known.

  Suddenly, he ended the kiss, and his strong hands gripped her shoulders, moving her away. He stepped back, and his face seemed to turn to granite. “Miss Allston, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  Forgive him? She gasped for breath and prayed her knees would not give way. Then reality struck her benumbed mind. How could she feel this way about a pirate? Fie! She fought a double battle to either fall back into his arms or slap him across his taut cheek. She opted for the second and raised her hand.

  He grabbed her wrist.

  A knock sounded at the cabin door. Lucas moved in front of her and opened it.

  He spoke to the two standing there, shielding their view of the room. “Thorpe, get Mama Penn back up here from the sick bay. Sinbad, get Pitt off the deck and into chains. Send the doc to sew up his face.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” both men replied.

  Lucas went out the door, and Thorpe said, “Is milady hurt?”

  “No. She’s unharmed.”

  Thorpe’s next words, spoken quietly to Captain Bloodstone, nevertheless reached Travay’s ears. “Pitt’ll remember this night every time he shaves.”

  Travay bolted the door, ran to the bunk, and fell onto it. Confusion battled in her mind, but a wonderful warm glow from Lucas’ touch still thrilled her. She tingled from her head to her toes. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the kiss she had just experienced. With a pirate.

  She shot straight up, then cringed. How could she have responded like that to a pirate? But that thought didn’t stop her racing heart. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. A new plan had to
be made about Captain Bloodstone or she’d be lost, as her mother would have said. He most definitely was not a gentleman in any sense of the word, she reasoned, or she wouldn’t be in such a bewildered state.

  The next day, after visiting Sydney in the sick bay, Lucas stood on the quarterdeck, facing north toward Charles Town, trying to get Travay’s face and the memory of their kiss out of his mind. He should never have kissed her like that. She was not like the women in his past. And he was probably on the verge of making a complete fool of himself. Why should she ever feel about him as he felt about her? He wasn’t in her class. And she thought him nothing but a pirate. It would be best if he stayed away from her until they made port. He hoped Reverend Wentworth was praying for him. Please pray a lot, Ethan.

  Thorpe joined him. The lieutenant took out his pipe and tried to light it, cupping his hand around the bowl. “If this breeze holds, we should soon enter the Gulf Stream that flows beyond the Florida Keys, and we should be in Charles Town a few days later.”

  “Sure should. If this wind isn’t a promise of a coming squall.” Lucas leaned over the quarterdeck railing and yelled, “Raise our colors!” Below, a crew member ran the English flag up the mast.

  Thorpe finally lit his pipe and took a deep draw. The current of air blew away the smoke as he exhaled. “What are your instructions, Captain? We’ve got a bit to take care of when we dock in Charles Town this time.”

  “Yes, more than usual, Thorpe. But I know you’ll take care of everything like you always do when I revert back to my Charles Town merchant identity.” He smiled at his first lieutenant. “Here’s the lineup for home port. After we unload our hold, you will pay off and release the crew and galley slaves. When you release Pitt and Knox and pay them off, tell them we don’t want either of them back on board the Blue Heron.”

  “Aye, Captain, and good riddance, I say. You know, of course, Pitt has sworn to make you pay for his face. Guess he’s worried the womenfolk won’t gather around him quite so fast anymore with that scar you gave him. It’s going to be a dilly.”