The Pirate and the Puritan (31 page)

“Time to start acting like a
pirate instead of a lovesick swain.”

Drew stood, then snatched his
weather-beaten hat from the equally worn table and plopped it on his head. He
forced its wide curving brim to angle across his face. “Shall we go?”

Solomon stood. “Are we going back
to the ship so you can straighten things out with Miss Kendall?”

“Not yet. Marley’s killer didn’t
vanish into thin air. We’ll ask around the docks, then wait for nightfall. Even
the Royal Navy can’t keep a pirate from rum and wenches once the moon is out.”

Drew paused at the open door and
scanned the room a final time. The barmaid waved from where she leaned on the
back bar.

Solomon caught the exchange and
glared at Drew. “You will speak with Felicity?”

Drew smiled at the woman, then
nodded to his men guarding the bar. They knew to follow discreetly.

He returned his attention to
Solomon. “As soon as we get back.” Drew would have to ensure this excursion
lasted until dawn. “Hopefully Felicity will have calmed down by then.” Drew
doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to believe in the impossible. It had gotten him
this far.

Solomon looked skeptical. “What
if she hasn’t calmed down?”

Drew stepped into the sunlight.
“I give you my word as a former scoundrel, I will speak with Felicity no later
than tomorrow morning.”

Solomon followed him out the
door. “Former scoundrel? Miss Kendall has made you see the error of your ways?”

The heavy smell of the sea
drifted on a warm tropical breeze. Drew turned and headed in that direction.
“If I stay alive that long.”

***

On Felicity’s third try, the lock
clicked open. She pushed the door wide, hesitating on the threshold of freedom.
The dark companionway reminded her that she still had a long way to go on an
uncertain path. Even then, she could not consider herself free. Drew’s betrayal
would always hold her heart prisoner. She found her courage and stepped out.
The chance for escape might not present itself again.

She paused her climb to the upper
deck on a rung close to the top. A soft breeze blew through the riggings and a
gentle splashing echoed against the silent ship. She hauled herself through the
hatch and crept out onto the open deck.

Longboats full of men had left
the ship throughout the day. Since she had no idea how many crewed Drew’s
vessel, she’d given up trying to keep track of who might be left onboard. The
one thing she was sure of was Drew’s absence.

An agonizing stab of loss pierced
her with renewed force. At first, she’d been excited to discover they were in
port. It was the chance she’d prayed for. When Hugh had arrived later in the
afternoon and informed her of Drew and Solomon’s absence, she knew with sickening
certainty that nightfall would bring her best chance for a successful escape.

Even as she darted across the
deck, sliding behind a thick mast, she felt the pull to stay. She blamed it on
fear of the unknown and slipped off her dress.

A peek around the mast brought
the guard strolling the deck into view. He was whistling. She wished she shared
his confidence.

After he passed, she slid to the
other side of the mast and received her first glimpse of their destination.
Dots of light clustered along the shore. The glow signaled a heavy population
on the island. Her hopes of finding an established government, British if she
were lucky, and someone who would help her, increased.

She pulled off her underskirts,
then her shoes. In spite of her shivers, the sultry night warmed her skin.
Wearing only a thigh-length chemise would be practical for swimming the
distance to the shore. The length more than doubled the pond where she had
learned to swim as a child. Sheer determination would have to keep her from
drowning.

She rolled her shoes in her
discarded clothes and secured the bundle around her waist with a wide sash. She
waited for the guard to repeat his pacing in the other direction before
creeping to the railing. Guilt plagued her despite her carefully considered decision
to leave the prisoners in the hold. Her difficulty with the sturdy latch on the
door confirmed she would not stand a chance at picking the thick lock securing
McCulla and his men. McCulla could rot in the filthy hold for all she cared,
but the child and the other men didn’t deserve their fate.

Leaving them and going to shore
on her own ensured her best chance of success. If all went well, she would find
help for the others. She swung her leg over the railing and stared down at the
long drop to the water.

The distance to the shore seemed
to have increased. Suddenly, it appeared five times the length she had ever
swum before instead of only double. She lifted her other leg over the railing.
A quick glance at the guard showed he had circled the bow and was headed her
way. It was now or never.

She let go of her death grip on
the railing and jumped away from the ship. Instead of the hard, icy shock she’d
expected, the warmth of the water embraced her. She swam underneath the surface
and away from the ship until her lungs felt as if they would burst.

When she came up to catch her
breath, she tasted salt. Despite the drenched bundle on her back, she floated
easily. The warmth and the salt buoyed her above the surface. Treading water,
she turned to look back at the ship. The guard leaned over the railing with a
lantern in his hand. After a moment, he moved away.

Dark clouds drifted across the
sky. The moon illuminated lighter patches of mist, painting them pearl gray.
She memorized Drew’s ship in the unearthly incandescence. The guard paced
across the deck again with his lantern held over the railing. He appeared to
scan the water below. Silently, Felicity glided farther from the spill of
light. She needed to find her way to shore, but she hesitated a little longer.

The guard’s pass brought the red
lettering hugging the ship’s side into view. Curiosity held her despite the
burning that had begun in her legs from keeping herself in place.

She blinked and quickly reread
the swirling script before the name was again swallowed in shadows. Drew’s
treachery took a final and fatal stab. The irony of it forced her to choke down
a sob. She had never been anything more to him than a game. One he had played a
thousand times before. She swam toward the lights on shore, the bold red script
of the
Rapture
emblazoned in her mind.

Concentrating on each stroke that
took her farther from Drew’s floating den of debauchery kept her buoyant while
her heart sank. She paused to note her progress and to catch her breath. The
glow of civilization seemed just as distant as when she began. She glanced back
at the
Rapture
. The vessel blended into the night with only an
occasional twinkle from a dim lantern to hint at its existence. Panic fluttered
in her chest as she gazed at the expanse of murky sea separating her from her
past and her future. She wouldn’t die like this, wouldn’t let Drew win.
Strengthening her resolve, she pulled herself through the water.

Just as her arms grew too heavy
to lift, her toe hit something solid. She lowered her feet and stood in
waist-deep water. Voices and laughter carried over the soft murmur of waves
lapping against the beach. The commotion came from the rows of planked
buildings facing the shore. Light spilled through open windows where men amused
themselves in drinking and carousing. She didn’t have to see herself to know
her chemise hung transparently against her skin. Fortunately, the men were too
consumed to notice anything as subtle as a shadow wading out of the darkness.

She darted to a palm tree at the far
end of the beach, away from the taverns. A yank on the bundle tied around her
waist spilled her clothes to the fine white sand. The sopping wet clothes would
at least cover her decently, and with any luck, she could dry in the shadows
until morning. Hopefully, she’d find the officials of the island before
breakfast.

Her struggles to straighten the
twisted material of her bodice were interrupted by the sound of male voices
moving in her direction. She forced her arms in the sleeves and pulled the
dress up over her breasts without lacing it.

Three men stumbled across the
beach to one of the dozen small boats lining the shore. To her relief, the men
lifted one of the launches and grappled with lugging it to the water while they
argued among themselves.

Hurriedly, she pulled on her
stockings. After she was fully dressed, she leaned down to look for her shoes.
At least she still possessed her own sensible boots. They were the only
remnants left of the orderly and prudent life she had abandoned so readily. In
retrospect, the years of lonely recriminations seemed a small price to pay. The
penalty for being a fool multiplied tenfold the second time around.

Even so, she knew if she ever saw
Drew again, she’d succumb to his charm as easily as she had before she knew the
depth of his depravity. Saving her soul was almost as important as arranging
her father’s release from prison. The first might be hopeless, but the second
would be accomplished no matter what she had to do.

She located one boot and yanked
it on. To find its mate, she got on her hands and knees, brushing her fingers
across the powdery sand in wide arches.

“What have we here?” leered a
drunken voice. “A randy bastard he was who tumbled ya and didn’t help you find
your drawers. You won’t get that kind of treatment from me, lass.”

She jerked her gaze to find a
bearded sailor swaying on the balls of his feet. A gold ring dangled from one
ear and a red scarf covered his head. Lank strands of hair hung down his back.
Cold fear squeezed the breath from her lungs. She stood up, backing away.

He slowly stalked her as if he
were coaxing a scared animal to come out of hiding. “Come on, lass. I ain’t
going to hurt you. I got money. Gold coin.” He reached into a pouch hanging at
his waist and jingled metal.

Her usual bravado escaped her.
This man was a real pirate, and he thought she was a harlot to be purchased.

“Sir, you’ve made a mistake. I’ve
been held hostage. I’m trying to find help—”

“Don’t worry, lass. Bertie will
help ya.” The pirate grinned, then took a giant step toward her. Felicity
scrambled backward, stumbled over the hem of her unlaced dress and fell on her
rump in the sand. Bile rose in her throat.

The pirate laughed. “Got you now.
You’re a feisty one. I like it when you girls play coy.”

One of the men carrying the
launch yelled in their direction. “Hey, Bertie—you pissing a river? Getcher
arse back over here and help us.”

When the pirate turned to answer,
Felicity scrambled to her feet and ran. Terror made her quick, but not quick
enough. An arm yanked her off the ground before she got far.

“Bloody hell. Now I’ll have to
share you,” he said near her ear.

His breath smelled of strong
spirits, his body of salt and filth. She struggled unsuccessfully to smash an
elbow into his stomach. Despite her frantic struggles, he carried her easily to
his friends.

The light from the taverns grew
brighter on the open beach and his companions stared wide-eyed at her breasts.
She looked down. Her worst fears were confirmed. Her gown had shifted in the
struggle, exposing pink nipples against mounds of white flesh.

“Christ. Look at those. I want a
feel,” said his companion.

The pirate pulled her against
him, gripping her bare breast with his other hand. “I found her, so I get her
first.”

His erection dug into her bottom.
She swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. In desperation, she brought her one
booted heel down on his toe.

The man yelped. He loosened his
grip but didn’t let her go. “She’s got some life left in her.”

“Yeah, but is she worth a
flogging? Captain told us to go back to the ship so Roger and Niles can come
ashore,” said a second man. They all carried swords. Their filthy, scarred
faces proved they used them often.

Her captor hoisted her back
against him. “Captain wouldn’t want me to miss out on a piece like this. Bet
he’d want a go himself. I might take her to him and get on his good side.”

“Gives us a reason to swig
another ale,” said the man who still leered at her breasts. “I might get a
chance with that señorita at the Bloody Boar. She had an itch to mount my bowsprit,
I can tell you that,”

All the men except the speaker
laughed. Felicity struggled not to listen to their conversation or picture what
they intended to do to her. She would die before she let that happen. Her
captor lifted her with one arm wrapped painfully around her rib cage and
dragged her in the direction of the taverns.

A second man shoved his friend,
sending him staggering. “The only thing she had an itch from was the bugger who
had her before you.”

Instead of exhausting herself
with useless struggles, Felicity remained still in spite of her growing
hysteria. Her captor squeezed her to near unconsciousness. She took shallow
breaths, willing herself not to panic. The drift of their conversation wasn’t
helping her stay calm. She tried to block out their argument over their
individual sexual prowess but found the task impossible.

“My bowsprit is bigger than all
yours. But we’ll let our little lass be the judge.” Her captor leaned down and
bit her lightly on the shoulder. When she jerked away, he laughed and squeezed
her tighter.

She blinked back tears. After
surviving the last month in the bed of the most notorious pirate in the
Caribbean, she’d escaped only to land in the arms of these drunken savages. She
doubted her current captor would care, but it was the only idea she had at the
moment.

“Have you heard of
El Diablo
?
I was waiting for him when you found me.” Her voice sounded like a strained
whisper. She wondered if the men heard her at all.