In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) (10 page)

“But you killed as well.”

“Never for pleasure. That is where your father differs and why most pirates sailing these waters steer clear of Roche Santiago.”

She shook her head, denial coming quickly, but at his arched brow she drew in a breath. She’d asked for his version and she’d hear it.

“You’re saying my father takes pleasure in taking lives?”

“I am. More, he enjoys the suffering as well.”

She clutched her hands in her lap. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, surprising Sarah. He’d seemed more than eager to regale her with her father’s sins before, yet he seemed almost reluctant now. Finally, he shifted his gaze from his booted foot to her face.

“Not many men live to speak ill of Roche. Those who sail with him wouldn’t dare and those who no longer…well, for the most part are lost to Davey Jones’ locker. There are a rare few, however, and those few speak of torture. He thrives to see fear in others and builds on it at every turn. Cat-o’-nine-tails, whips, knives, pistols. Roche isn’t one to be fussy as long as he achieves his goal.”

“To keep his men living in fear?”

“It keeps them toeing the line. If they’re afraid of him and the consequences, they aren’t likely to mutiny or disobey.”

“And those who do?”

“His punishment of choice is beheading.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “Beheading?”

“Those are the lucky ones.”

Suddenly glad she hadn’t asked for water, as her stomach was nauseous, Sarah struggled to accept what he said. She wanted, needed, to reject his words outright but somehow she couldn’t.

“If you never sailed with him, how can you so easily accuse him of these crimes?”

“Because I know someone who did.”

*

Aidan caught the
slight tremble in her hands but he gave her credit for wanting to hear more.

“To know this, a man must have survived such an ordeal.”

“Yes,
she
did.”

There was no feigning the horror that filled her eyes. She might be Roche Santiago’s daughter, and he wasn’t about to trust her, but he believed her distress was real.

And it was about to get worse.

“She?”

“Her name is Grace Sullivan. Truth be told, I’d heard of Roche and his atrocities long before learning of Grace’s experiences but she confirmed what we’d always heard.”

“And you simply happened upon this woman?”

“I don’t recall anything simple about it. We came upon a vessel and after a lengthy battle Cale—” He paused. The story of Sam Steele was complicated enough without adding in the fact that the last man to assume the identity was his father. A father who hadn’t recognized his own son. “Our captain,” he said instead, “found a wounded Grace below decks of the enemy’s ship. It wasn’t until she was safely aboard the
Revenge
that we learned the ship had been Roche’s and he’d gotten away.”

“You’re going to tell me she was hurt at my father’s hand.”

“
Grace
told me it was at your father’s hand,
I
had nothing to do with it. He’d stolen Grace off the shores of Montserrat, raped and kept her captive on board his ship. When she’d finally garnered enough courage to attempt an escape, he caught her and, as I said before, Roche doesn’t take to disobedience. He was trying to murder her when we attacked. Luckily, the cannon fire kept his knife from exacting a killing blow.”

Sarah’s body went rigid and her eyes went round and wide. All color fled from her face. Even her knuckles were white.

“I-I can’t—” She shook her head. “I cannot see my father doing such a thing.”

“Well, he did and she’s witnessed him do worse. She was lucky she survived. But somehow he learned she was rescued and he came back for her. That’s why he lit the house on fire. Grace was with us, inside.”

She pushed to her feet, hurried to the window. Aidan doubted it was to appreciate the sun’s warmth, which blazed into the room onto thick sunbeams.

“Why would he follow? Why would he care?” She spun toward Aidan. “It makes no sense. You said he tried to kill her.”

“Aye.”

“Then why follow her? Why not just wash his hands of her?”

Afraid she might swoon when he told her, Aidan moved to stand in a slab of sunlight next to Sarah. “For two reasons. The first of which is pride. Nobody beats Roche; he won’t tolerate it. She dared to survive and that was unacceptable.”

Sarah wet her lips, a swipe of pink on pink that grabbed Aidan’s attention like a fist around the throat. It wasn’t until those full lips moved that he realized she’d spoken.

He shook his head to clear the slight buzzing noise. “What?”

“You said there were two reasons he’d gone after Grace. The first being pride. What is the other?”

“Grace is pregnant with your father’s child.”

*

It couldn’t be
true. Sarah had been telling herself that very thing since Aidan told her about the woman named Grace and what she’d been through. Raped? With child? By her father? Sarah grimaced and pressed a hand to her stomach. The thought sickened her. But was it true?
Could
it be true? And did she even want to know?

She turned yet again from the window, this time from the darkness beyond. Night had fallen hours ago, long after Aidan had left her alone to her thoughts. She hadn’t asked, but had been grateful nonetheless when he’d slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. Apparently he hadn’t been worried about her escaping, as her only method would be to break the window, something he’d be sure to hear. There was no point trying to escape through the foyer; she could hear his men talking beyond the closed door. At any rate, Sarah’s thoughts were too consumed with what he’d told her to think of anything else.

Guided by the pale silvery moonlight, she walked past the hearth, around the back of the sofa and past the small table that held her untouched supper. The smell of cold fish was no enticement to eat, but it did remind her she’d accomplished nothing in the hours she’d spent alone save perhaps wearing a path in the wooden floor.

If it were true what Aidan said, if Grace was carrying her father’s child, then Sarah would gain a brother or a sister. She faltered as the truth sank in. A brother or a sister. For someone who’d been raised alone, save for servants and a few miserly visits a year from her father, the idea of family was a heady one. And one Sarah latched onto with both hands and heart.

She would be a part of this child’s life, though she had no idea how such a thing were possible. Firstly, she had to get out of this house, away from both Aidan and her father. She also had no means of travel or any idea where Grace and her child were. And how would Grace feel about her? If her father had raped Grace, tried to murder her, she would hardly welcome his daughter into her life. And who would blame her?

Sarah stopped before the hearth, braced her hands on the mantel, and bowed her head. It was all so complicated. If Aidan’s words were true she’d lose the only family she’d ever known,
everything
she’d ever known. Escaping had been her plan, but she’d never seen it as finite. She’d envisioned seeing some of the world, proving to herself and father she could survive. Once he saw she was capable, he’d allow her the freedom she yearned for. Either way, she’d never imagined a life without her father in it.

But if he were guilty of the things Aidan said, she could not,
would
not condone it, and she surely would never forgive him for it. And so while she stood to gain a brother or sister she could lose her father.

Sarah pushed away from the mantel, suddenly feeling as though the room was closing in. She just needed to breathe without this pressure squeezing her chest.

The door suddenly swung inward and Aidan, with the light of the hall behind him, leaned negligently against the doorway. Though the parlor was dim, his gaze found her easily enough. He watched her silently for a heartbeat, then two. It did little to ease the pressure in her chest or the heat, which suddenly seemed to engulf the room.

“I don’t know about you but I could use some fresh air,” he drawled.

*

“Do you mean
what you say or are you toying with me?”

“I always mean what I say.” And while the idea of toying with her stirred him, he knew she hadn’t meant it in the way he was thinking.

“Then I accept.” She hurried across the room, skirts rustling, as though if she lingered he’d change his mind.

At the door he paused, turned. “I won’t abide any foolish attempts to escape.”

“Why would I try? You’ve already proven you can best me if I do.”

“As long as we understand each other.” He gestured for her to precede him.

When he hadn’t been able to take one more moment locked within these four walls, he’d realized Sarah, with everything he’d told her, must feel the same way. Chunk had given Aidan a leering grin at his decision to take her, reminding Aidan of the man’s earlier words. But Aidan had merely shaken his head and patted the pistol at his waist. He was hardly taking her for a romantic stroll.

Still, when Sarah breezed past him, he couldn’t help but notice her scent was as intoxicating as the flowers in the gardens. The fanciful thoughts were new to him and he didn’t care for them. Scowling, he dug the keys from his pocket. The tinkling sound drew Sarah’s attention.

“We’re leaving the yard?”

“You object?”

“No. Not at all but—”

He slid the key into the gate’s lock. “But?”

“I’m surprised you trust me enough to take me out.”

“Oh, I don’t trust you.” He chuckled. “But I trust myself to catch you.”

The lock opened and, when he pushed open the gate, he finally felt as though he could breathe. He inhaled the salty air while his eyes drank in the sight of moonlight dancing on ripples. As a pirate, he’d seen his share of jewels but none, other than his family and the
Revenge
, were as priceless to him as the sea.

Beside him, Sarah stood as motionless as he did. Intrigued, Aidan shifted his attention to her. From the first time he’d clearly seen her face, he’d grudgingly acknowledged she was pretty. Despite having Roche’s eyes, everything else about her appeared soft, delicate. With the late hour, tendrils of her brown hair had escaped their pins and fell enticingly along her cheeks and at the back of her neck. Moonlight played its silvery fingers along her skin.

He shook his head. These kinds of thoughts needed to stop. He needed to concentrate on Roche, or even Cale and the maelstrom of emotions Aidan felt when he thought of the man. He’d already found himself, several times throughout the day, with his thoughts firmly centered on Sarah. Luckily, Roche was due tomorrow and, once he was rid of the cur, he would get back to his life. A life far removed from all thoughts of Sarah Santiago.

Feeling better about his wandering thoughts, Aidan began to walk toward the water; certain Sarah would follow and not waste her chance at this bit of freedom. Not only had she and the others been confined to the house since Aidan and his crew had arrived, but he also had the sense she wasn’t allowed outside the gates very often.

Hearing her fall into step behind him, Aidan strode for the beach. The closer he drew to the water, the calmer he felt. The salty air soothed his lungs and slipped over his shoulders like the comforting arm of a friend. He longed to grab a wheel, to feel the power of a ship in his hands, and the sway of the sea beneath his feet. The gentle lapping of the water, inching near the toes of his boots, was pleasant but he craved the snap of the sails, the splash of the water against the hull. The sense that he was accomplishing something. He looked out over the indigo water, into the darkness beyond. The
Revenge
was out there, close. By tomorrow, she’d be his and Roche would be—