Corsets & Crossbones (4 page)

“Actually, I was going to go along the lines of saving your pretty little hide,” he replied with a wink.

“My necklace, please,” Brooke said, sticking her hand out and waiting for him to place her jewel in it.

“I have no clue as to what you are talking about,” Charlie said, looking back down at his fingernails.

“You know exactly what I am talking about Captain Colt,” Brooke said, her voice dangerously low.  “You stole my jewel!”

“Technically, you gave me permission to take your jewels,” Charlie replied, extending both index fingers to the sky.  “Ergo, I did not steal it; you gave it to me.”

“I gave you strict specifications
not
to take my rubies or my emeralds,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“No,” Charlie replied, and began to make his way back over to his table, with Brooke trailing behind him. 

Brooke could not believe the arrogance of a man who had so recently charmed her.  She continued to follow him until he plopped back down at his table.  She noticed Heath was there, along with many other men she assumed were from his crew.  When a whore sat down on Charlie’s lap, he grinned at her, causing Brooke to turn away in disgust.

“Give it back,” Brooke said through gritted teeth.

“Ms. Cunningham?” Heath asked, looking up at her.  “What are you doing at a place like this?”

Brooke was getting tired, her whole body was sore, and the smoke from the
scrag was giving her a headache.  She just wanted to go to bed, but she wanted her jewel back as well.  Ignoring Heath, she glanced around the room and just decided to leave.  The jewel would be hard to part with, but she did not wish to remain in here any longer.  Without another word, she left the table, left the group of pirates, and left Charlie staring at her as she walked through the people and out the door.  Groaning, he got up with little focus to the whore on his lap, and followed her out the door.  He saw Brooke walking as swiftly as she could, but with a few strides, Charlie caught up to her.  He could see she was obviously cold, and took off his large trench coat.  He tried to wrap the coat around her shoulders, but she pressed forward so he was unable to do so.  Charlie chuckled quietly, and then caught up with her once again.

“Leave me alone,” she
muttered, her breath showing up as a white silhouette in the black night.  “Keep the jewel, just leave me alone.”

“I have never received that command from a lady before,” Charlie told her, walking in pace with her.  He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, his trench coat over his shoulder.  “At least put on the coat so you cannot blame the cold you might catch on me.”

“You are too late,” she said.

“I am never too late,” Charlie said, grabbing the coat, and attempting to put it over Brooke’s shoulders again.

This time, however, Brooke did not refuse him.  Her face was still set, but she let Charlie drape the coat over her, instantly feeling warm.  It smelt of the sea with a hint of rum and something else that must solely belong to him.  She inhaled deeply, hoping never to forget the scent for as long as she lived.

“Why are you following me, Captain Colt?” she asked Charlie, looking up at him.  It was hard to make him out when he was emerged in such a dark surrounding, but she could see the outline of him, and felt comfort because of that.

“I am not following you, sweetheart,” he replied, glancing down at her.  “We just happened to be going in the same direction at the same time in the same place.  Funny how the world works, isn’t it?” 

“Are you going to return me my necklace?” she asked him.

“I do not plan to, no,” he told her, surprising even himself at his honesty.  “It is such a pretty necklace that I shall like to keep it for myself.”

“Unless you have a woman to give that to, why would you keep it?” she asked him.

“Oh, I am sure I could find someone to give that to,” he said, meeting her eyes.

“Give it back to is more like it,” she murmured, her eyes shifting back to the road, trying to make out where they were going.  And yet, even as she said this, she could not help but smile a small smile.       

   The walk home was rather silent, but there was no tension that pierced the cold air.  The pair seemed at ease with the other’s presence, despite that they had just met a few hours before (discounting their first meeting, of course, ten years ago).  Charlie began to whistle a tune, and once the melody wrapped itself around Brooke’s mind, she began to hum along with him.  Charlie glanced down at her, smiling through his whistling, his tone clear and strong.  It would have been interesting if someone had overheard them; a light hum paired with a strong whistle did not essentially go together, but they made it work.

Brooke was disappointed when her house came into view.  The pair slowed down their steps until they came to a full stop.  Both stared at the towering home.

Brooke looked up at Charlie, studying his profile in the night.  “Are you going to say goodbye to me this time?” she asked him.

Even in the dark night, he could see her eyes; they reminded him of the changing ocean, changing colors that reflected her mood.  He pursed his lips together in thought, and then shook his head.  “No,” he replied.  “I only say goodbye to people who I plan on never seeing again.”  With those words, he turned and left Brooke alone in the night, still wearing his long trench coat, and he still with her necklace.

The dashing pirate captain had left the young girl abruptly, but did not go far.  He hid himself behind a thick tree, his body fully covered save for his head, which he craned around to make sure Brooke made it into her room without incident.  He watched her climb into her room, and waited a moment after that to be sure everything was all right.  Afterwards, he began to make his way back downtown, his hands stuffed into his pockets.  He had left her with his trench coat on purpose, and now they both had an item belonging to the other.  He had now made it fair that he had not returned her necklace.

When he entered
The Bloody Mistake
, the majority of his crew had dispersed into the night, leaving a few crewmen, as well as a handful of women.  He was getting tired, but not tired enough to go to bed by himself.  He selected the best looking prostitute, and led her to his usual room, where they proceeded to go at it.  Of course, the phrase ‘make love’ was never used to coin what Charlie chose to do with the women of the night, and ‘fuck’ was too crude, even for him.  He did like to believe he had some class in him.

As Charlie and the woman explored each other, flashes of Brooke entered his mind.  The first time it happened, it caused him to pause for a moment because nothing like that had ever happened to him before.  Another woman’s face had never popped into his head while he was having sex with somebody else.  It just did not happen.  And yet it did, and proceeded to do so.  The woman in his arms had jet black hair, and yet, as Charlie ran his fingers through the strands, they were a golden blonde color.  When he looked into the woman’s sapphire-blue eyes, he saw the sea.  When he caressed her pale skin, he saw a smooth
tan, and even an array of freckles on her face.  He was not having sex with this prostitute, he was having sex with Brooke.  When he climaxed, he immediately rolled off the woman and glanced out the window, up at the full moon.  He was indeed satisfied with his conquest, and yet he could not help but wonder if it would be better to be with the real thing.

Brooke woke up to the bright sun shining through her open windows.  As she climbed out of her luxurious bed, she walked out onto her balcony, her bare feet padding along, and the sun warming her skin.  The light blue sky was painted with puffy, white clouds that cast shade upon the small town of the Port Royal.  Her balcony gave her a view of the docks and the sparkling sea.  She leaned on the railing of the balcony, her sea-green eyes scanning the docks as if trying to find Captain Colt’s ship.  Where was the black flag with the broken red hearts, and the white crossbones underneath?

Of course he would not have his jolly roger out now
, she thought to herself.

After Brooke changed into a light blue dress and Liz skillfully tied her corset together, Brooke walked down the grand staircase and into the dining room.  She was waiting for her father, the two of them going to visit Governor Radcliffe and his family for tea.  Her stomach rumbled in hunger, and after a moment of refraining herself, she reached over to the bowl and grabbed one of the offered red apples.  As soon as she bit into the juicy fruit, her father walked in to meet her, finely dressed.

“Ready to go, my dear?” he greeted, smiling at his daughter warmly.

Brooke nodded, taking another bite of the apple before getting up and walking over to her father.  She slipped her arm in through his, while holding onto the apple with her other hand.  Master Cunningham led her out of the house and to the waiting carriage.  Brooke smiled fondly at the two spotted horses before stepping into the open carriage.  Her father followed her closely behind, and once the door shut securely behind them and everyone was settled, the carriage took off.

Brooke leaned her head against the cool side of the carriage, her eyes crawling over to the side so she could gaze at the beautiful scenery that passed her by.  Governor Radcliffe lived on top of a cliff in Port Royal, and anyone who visited the family would be treated to green grass, colorful flowers that stretched up to the sky, and tall trees that provided shade for any wanderers.  A small stream ran along the curve of the hill, the blue water mirroring the opposing blue sky.  It did not sparkle as the ocean did, but it was so clear that one could see the fish that resided in it.  The horses’ hooves pounded the trail, sending dust to scatter up in the air as they made their way upward to the Radcliffe Mansion.

Once the carriage reached the Governor’s home, the horses came to a trot before finally stopping in front of the home.  The driver hopped down from his seat and opened the door for his passengers.  Master Cunningham got out first, and then escorted his daughter into the house.  Two stable boys, each with a pail of water, dashed over to give the horses something to drink before leading them around the mansion to the stables where there was shade and food for them, as well as a place that provided the horses shelter.  Brooke smiled at the boys, and then at two butlers who seemed to have been waiting for them.  Both of the butlers were holding the grand, white doors open for their guests, returning Brooke’s kind smile.

As soon as the Cunningham’s entered, the butlers shut the doors securely, and then led the father and daughter into the front room where the governor himself was sitting, waiting, and sipping his tea.  When he saw that his guests had arrived, he put the tea down on his table and stood up, a big smile on his pudgy face.

Governor James Radcliffe was as tall as he was thick.  He had beady dark eyes and a long, pointed nose.  One wouldn’t consider him attractive until he smiled, and then women were dazzled.  Although he was married, he had been known to dabble in the payment for pleasure.  Only his closest confidents knew about his secret, and Master Cunningham was the closest.

“Brooke!” he exclaimed in a low, burly voice.  His arms were outstretched and Brooke walked into them, hugging the governor as he hugged her.  “You look bigger and bigger every day!”  He took a step back to look at her, but his hands still squeezed her shoulders in emphasis.  “My, you look beautiful.  How odd that you are not married yet!”

“She has met a potential prospect,” Master Cunningham interjected with a smile.  Governor Radcliffe released Brooke so he could give his full attention to her father. 
“A young merchant - a young,
wealthy
merchant.  He is supposed to dine with us in two days’ time.”

“Well, congratulations!” Radcliffe exclaimed, now turning to face Brooke, who was trying to hide a knowing smirk about her wealthy merchant.  “Fiona is outside - you know the way.  Your father and I have to speak of boring, old matters of business.  It was so nice seeing you.”

“And you as well,” Brooke replied, curtseying before she made her way outside.

The backyard of the Governor’s mansion was large, filled with flowers, finely cut, rich green grass, tall, maintained trees, as well as a large fountain that provided bathing water for the birds.  Fiona Radcliffe was sitting alone in the middle of the garden, her feet
bare so that grass could invade the middles of her toes.  Brooke grinned as she made her way over to her closest friend, excited to finally be able to tell someone about her dangerous visitor from the night before.

Brooke stopped in front of Fiona, and the sitting woman was so surprised that she nearly spit up her tea.  Her long auburn hair was tied into a simple bun, and she wore a small, fashionable green hat on top of her head that matched her green dress.  She was not worried about her pale complexion getting any darker only because she inherited her porcelain skin from her mother.  She was epitome of beauty, nearly perfect in every way.  She was tall and slender, her lips full and her cheeks high.  When Brooke was younger, she was jealous of Fiona’s looks, but after many years, she began to appreciate herself more and more.

When Fiona saw Brooke, her lips curved into a smile, and she jumped up and pulled her friend into a bone-crushing hug.

“You are dangerous,” Brooke told her friend after Fiona released her, trying to catch her breath.

Fiona looked at Brooke with her dark blue eyes, a knowing smile on her face.  “You have something to tell me,” she stated, her smile evolving into a mischievous grin on her delicate features.  “Tell me now before I wither away in anticipation.” 

Brooke erupted with a throaty laugh as the two young women sat down.  Brooke quickly poured herself some tea and added milk and sugar to the hot concoction.

“Before I say anything, you must swear me your secrecy,” Brooke said in a serious tone, but her eyes were light and playful.

Fiona placed her right hand over her heart.  “I swear,” she
promised, her tone just as serious.

“Well,” Brooke said after taking a sip of her tea.  She leaned in close to Fiona, despite the fact that no one was occupying the backyard save for the two of them.  It was as if Brooke was slightly paranoid that the wind would carry her secret away.  “Last night, I found a man in my room.”

“How?!” Fiona exclaimed, her hand covering her mouth in shock.  “Did your father know?  Was it one of those god-awful suitors he keeps trying to set you up with?” she asked with the roll of her eyes.

Brooke shook her head.  “It was no suitor,” she told Fiona firmly.

“No more of your games!” Fiona exclaimed, her patience worn.  “Tell me who this stranger was!”

“All right,” Brooke said.  “The man in my bedroom was Captain Charlie Colt!”  Her whisper was fast and excited, and her eyes were bright.

“No!” gasped Fiona, her eyes widening.  “
The
Captain Charlie Colt?!  The man who left the East India Company for a life of piracy?  Why was he in your room?  I see you are unharmed…”  Her voice drifted off as her eyes scanned Brooke up and down carefully.

“Yes, well apparently he and his crew robbed my father from a portion our family’s wealth, and yet I do not think my father has noticed yet…”  Brooke furrowed her brow, deep in thought.  “Or maybe he has, and that is why he has called upon
your
father.”

“How did Colt manage to do that?” Fiona
asked, skepticism clear in her tone.

“His first-mate disguised himself as a wealthy merchant who called upon my father to sup with him,” Brooke explained.  “It was a means of distraction.  Captain Colt’s crew surrounded my home, and as the first-mate supped with my father, the crew broke into the home, stealing whatever they could and leaving before supper ended.”

“How deliciously wicked!” Fiona exclaimed with a smile.  “That Captain Colt is brilliant as well as attractive.  He is attractive in real life, is he not?”  Fiona’s brow pushed together, her chin nearly touching her throat as she looked at Brooke with curiosity in her dark blue eyes.

“I would say so,” Brooke said, after a moment of thinking.  Her eyes glanced up at the sky, her index finger tapping her chin.  She could not blatantly lie to her friend and tell her that Captain Colt was unattractive, and yet she did not want Fiona to know that she believed the pirate captain to be the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon.  Fiona, while very appreciative of good looks no matter who had them, did not approve of the higher class being enamored by the lower class.  “Although he did steal my heart,” she added.

“Your what?” Fiona asked, arching her brow.

“My jewel,” Brooke responded quickly. 
“My favorite necklace.  That was all he took.”

“But you have a whole box filled with jewels!” Fiona pointed out.  “Why that one jewel?”

“God knows,” Brooke replied, rolling her eyes and sighing with some exasperation.  She took another sip of her tea, letting the sweetened flavor stain her senses.  “I just hope he gives it back.”

After supper that evening, Brooke called upon Liz to draw her a hot bath.  As she waited for the tub to be filled, she walked onto her balcony and looked out at the sky.  The sun was disappearing underneath the sea, bursting into an array of colors.  The murmur of the town below her steadily increased, as though they were announcing that night was here.  Her eyes scanned the people that started to accumulate downtown, in rich vibrant colors that screamed, “Look at me!”  There was a trail of colors that followed the sun underneath the sky, a sight so incredibly beautiful that a description of it could not be put into words.  A slight breeze picked up, pricking Brooke’s delicate skin.  Glancing back into her room, she hoped that her bath was almost ready.

She walked back into her room, her long fingers interlaced, and stopped at the foot of her bed.  She turned so she was facing the bed, and stared at the painting that had captivated her years ago.  The sea looked so angry then, yet still so beautiful.  It showed that when man went against nature, it was a losing battle for nature always prevailed.  It was striking to look upon the painting.  To the naïve or arrogant observer, it was simply a painting, but to the wise sailor, he knew the anger the sea could conjure.  He had experienced it first-hand, and even developed a respect for the changing water.  Brooke, herself, had never experienced the sea as the painting portrayed it, nor had Brooke experienced the sea at all.  She had never left Port Royal in all her twenty years; she had never stepped on a ship in her life.  And yet, when her observant eyes swept over the endless ocean, she could do nothing but respect it, and every time she happened to look on the ocean, her curiosity could not help but be piqued, and her desire to satiate her curiosity increased.

“Bath’s ready, mum,” Liz said quietly from behind Brooke, causing Brooke’s thought to disappear.

Brooke nodded her acknowledgement, but said nothing more on the matter, and neither did Liz.  The servant excused herself, and Brooke nodded her approval, leaving Brooke to take her bath alone.  Brooke was silently grateful for the temporary isolation; she needed time alone with her thoughts.  Once she stepped into her bathing room, she slipped off her dress and hung it on the rack.  She could see hot steam rising from the still water, all enclosed in a porcelain white tub.

Brooke grinned to herself; she loved hot baths.

A stand that rested next to the tub held all her necessary cleansing items, such as a soap, a rag, a brush (for no comb could go through her hair without some sort of trouble), and lotions that would successfully wash her hair.

Brooke started by washing her long hair, her thoughts wandering to the handsome stranger that she had encountered merely yesterday.  He was probably already gone from Port Royal, sailing on his ship with a destination only he knew.