Wrong Kind of Paradise (9 page)

her belly.

Ecstasy washed over her, but he surprised her by setting her away from him. Stunned, she stood

numb. The slightest stir of pain whirled through her at his rejection. It reminded her of the times she

sought his attention as a girl and the rejection she felt when he’d ignored her.

Was she really so repulsive to him?

His breaths came in rapid succession. “Actions speak louder than words, Angel. For someone so

unaffected, yours are coming through loud and clear.”

She gasped and pushed against his chest. “How dare you!”

His hands clutched her wrists and brought her closer. Nose to nose now. “You should thank me, my

angel. I am granting you your fondest wish. Soon you will see your father-” He let her go roughly and she

stumbled backward. Her eyes widened at his words. He strode to the door, opened it, and turned to her.

“Soon, you will share the same dank English cell as he does. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Six

Low tide ebbed out of the harbor and gentle swells lapped against the hull. Mid-morning sunshine

rained heat across the deck while a skeleton crew worked on repairs and cleaning the hull. Max O’Rielly

stepped over the main-top-sail lying across the deck while the boatswain stitched her up. The carpenter

worked diligently on plugging holes and smearing oakum between the cracks of the ship to keep it tight.

As the sailing master, Max oversaw the maintenance of the Serpent’s Lady. The steady lap of the

waves lulled him, the heart-beat of the ocean, a lure to a seaman. Sailing had been his lifeline since he

was a child working on his father’s fishing boat. One was either born a seaman or a land lubber. A man

couldn’t be both.

The salty breeze whistled through the rigging, and the steady clang of the metal on wood sang its

own song. The call of the sea to a man was as irresistible as the touch of a woman. Without it, he’d starve

and die a slow death.

A thunder of boots on the boardwalk drew his attention as the men who’d gone with Angel pounded

down the wharves. His heart stalled.
Where was she
?

Unease prickled along the back of his neck and slithered down his spine. He’d been in Logan’s

employ since the day he’d caught De’Haviland hiding out on his father’s fishing vessel. They’d become

fast friends. The day Logan had decided to commandeer his first vessel and go to sea. Max hadn’t

hesitated to go with him. Leaving England had been the best thing he’d ever decided to do.

And when Logan had kidnapped Lady Elizabeth, Max had known he would never see the shores of

his homeland again. But Max had adored Elizabeth and was content Logan had found some happiness with

her. The day Angel was born, Max had become a father right alongside his best friend. She may not be his

real daughter, but she’d wrapped him around her little finger just as if she were.

He’d made a promise to keep Angel safe. As had most of Logan’s crew. Many of them had been

together for twenty years or more. Once a man joined the ranks, he rarely found reason to leave. Logan

was a fair captain and a good man. A man couldn’t ask for a better life. Many of the original crew had

been captured or had died that day the lieutenant had captured Logan. The few who were left had taken up

with Angel, determined to get their captain back.

But now Angel was nowhere to be seen
.

Bruno and four others raced up the plank, skidding to a halt before Max. The mute tapped Robert on

the top of his head, and Robert gushed out with the night’s adventure so fast Max had difficulty catching

up. He listened carefully. “So Barclay captured Angel?”

Bruno paced the planks before them. His black gaze rested on Max briefly before returning to sea

once more. His agitation showed clearly in the deep lines of his brow. For a man who couldn’t speak, he

managed to get his point across perfectly.

Robert nodded. “Aye, last night. We got caught trying to kidnap the commander. He took Cap’n

Angel on board the Revenge this morning, tied us up to the docks, and left at high tide. Bruno freed us

with sheer strength, loosening the ropes enough that I could slide out.”

“Aye, he be a bit fond of the Cap’n’s bonny lass.”

Max rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. If Angel were captured, that left Bruno as next in

line to captain the ship. But the man couldn’t speak and by default, that left Max in charge. He honestly

didn’t want it, but what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Bruno stopped and urged Robert to continue with a wave of his impatient hand. “Barclay sent a

message.”

Max nodded for the man to continue.

“He said we’re to send this ransom note to the lieutenant and wait on the response. He plans to get

Cap’n Logan out and he wants us to find out whatever information we can find on his whereabouts, and

return to his plantation, sir.”

Max perused the ransom note. It said simply:
I’ve got what you want. We make the exchange in six

weeks
.

This could be a trap
. Max contemplated the information but he really had no choice in the matter.

The ship needed a captain, whether it was Logan or his daughter. What she lacked in experience, she

more than made up for in courage. And that held a lot of weight on a ship. Her determination to free her

father bespoke her bravery, far more so than her acts on or off a ship.

He peered at Bruno. “Yer the Cap’n, old man. Do we trust him?”

Bruno stopped pacing and nodded. Then he hit a single fist into his palm.

“Aye, tha’ means if he hurts Miss Angel, he be a dead matey.” Max nodded and looked at one of the

sailors behind him. “Find out if Lieutenant Worthington is in the port and if not, when he’s due to return. I

want every man out searching for information. Load the supplies. I want this bilge rat ready to set sail at a

moment’s notice.”He would have to gather up the rest of the crewmembers who were off ship and

establish temporary new ranks until the captain’s return. “We’re on a reconnaissance mission, me

maties.”

~*~

Hours passed. Angel read a book she’d grabbed from the bookshelf behind the table. She marked

her page and placed the volume down. Boredom manifested until she thought she’d go mad.

Angel stood and made her way to the door. She tested the latch and miraculously it opened.

Blac hadn’t locked the door? She sighed. Why hadn’t she thought of testing it sooner?

The door swung open, banged on the wall, and the salty wind hit her. She breathed it in and relished

this little freedom. Activity ran rampant on the decks of the Serpent’s Revenge. Several crewmen scurried

up the shrouds, securing the sails. Others coiled ropes, while many others lounged about leisurely as the

day had begun to settle into night.

The pair of seamen playing dice a few feet away glanced up but made no move to stop her. Curious,

she made her way to the quarterdeck. Why hadn’t anyone tried to stop her yet?

Blac stood at the helm, and yearning struck her like a physical blow. She’d missed him.

Wind tossed his black hair away from his face as the fading sunlight danced across his skin. He

intrigued her like no other man ever had, and even after his horrid betrayal, her pulse still leapt to life

whenever he neared.

Blac’s gaze fell to her as she ascended to the quarterdeck. “I wondered when you might venture on

deck.”

She frowned. “You didn’t lock the hatch?”

“There was no need.” He chuckled. “It isn’t as if you can go anywhere, Angel. I’m not worried

about your little escape attempts out here.”

He was right. She would be a fool to try to escape now. Moving to the rail behind him, she sucked

in a deep breath. Azure seas stretched in an endless swathe of living material, and patches of dusky

clouds dotted the skies. She missed the Serpent’s Lady. Nostalgia engulfed her. The Serpent’s Lady had

become home during her time as captain, more so perhaps than her father’s island. Of course, the island

would never feel like home again without her father there. But for once, she’d been completely free. And

she understood why so many men had a calling for the sea.

She leaned against the banister and drank in the sight of the infinite expanse of blue. The wind

whipped her hair in front of her face and she brushed it away. “What did you do with the commander?”

she asked.

“He’s in the hold. I had planned to let him out when we got out to sea, but the bastard spouted off

more obscenities than I could tolerate.” He shrugged. “So he’ll remain in the hold until he can learn to be

civil.”

“Why did you do this?”

“My reasons are my own.”

She stiffened. “You won’t be able to keep me here long, Blac.” Facing him, she bit out, “I
will

manage to escape. Somehow.”

A single black brow rose over those stormy eyes. “You are very confident, madam.”

“Very determined.”

His expression was intense, his gaze searching and direct. The sun had bronzed his skin to a golden

hue and it clashed brilliantly with the grey-metal colored eyes. He truly was a beautiful man with an

incredibly striking profile. Her gaze traced the hard, chiseled planes.

“You don’t have to fight me at every turn, Angel.”

Why must his tone sound pleading now, when she’d rather face his wrath? But instead, he seemed to

ask her and the fight drained from her.

“What would you have me do, Barclay?” Angel tossed up her hands in defeat. “Sit back and let you

take me to an English prison where both my father and I can be hung?”

His jaw tensed. “I am not a monster.” He frowned and studied her. “Do you really believe that I

would take you to an English prison?”

“You said you would,” she pointed out.

He glanced away as if he regretted the words. “I was angry.”

She moved around the wheel to stand directly before him, compelled by the look in his eyes. Was

that guilt? “Then what am I doing here, Barclay? Why have you taken me prisoner?”

He sighed. “I guess it’s truth time. I’ve known this day would come, I just didn’t expect it to come

so soon. I owe you an explanation you should’ve had two years ago and one you probably would have

already had if I’d been able to catch you before now.”

Angel frowned. What explanation? “What are you talking about?”

Blac handed the wheel over to Rigo and grabbed hold of Angel’s arm to lead her down to the main

deck. “Let’s go to my cabin.”

When they entered, he shut the hatch behind them with a soft click. She moved to the bunk and sat on

the edge. He grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to her. Both of his hands streaked through his tousled

hair as he plopped down next to her. His sigh sounded much too weary. “Angel” he started and then

snapped his mouth shut. “Your father came to me about six months before his capture. He had everything

planned out.”

She straightened her spine. “What do you mean?”

He clasped both of her hands. “I didn’t want this, know that. As it were, I couldn’t argue with

Logan. He’d made up his mind already.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion but she didn’t say anything, waiting for him to explain.

He let go of her hands and busied himself with straightening items on the table. By the time he

finished everything was aligned perfectly. She would have giggled at his incessant need for order but his

expression didn’t bode well. He seemed to struggle to find the words.

“Logan wanted a fresh start for you. He loved you more than life, and his every decision had been

about you,” he whispered. “I was to return to England and negotiate his surrender. It took me three years

to sort out the political mess. Your father would turn himself in under the condition that you would be

delivered to your mother’s family, and re-introduced to society, inheriting your mother’s dowry.”

Angel covered her mouth, smothering a gasp. “But why?”

Her mind whirled. Fragments of her past conversations with her father popped in her mind.

“Wouldn’t you like to visit England?”“How would you like to meet your grandfather?”

She’d always assumed he wasn’t serious. But now...piecing together the puzzle years later, she

realized that her father had been preparing her for the coming change in her life.

Blac shrugged. “I guess he was tired of running, and somehow he knew he could never give you the

kind of life you deserved.”

“How could Papa believe my life had been anything but perfect when I’ve never expressed

otherwise? My mother loved life on our little island and she grew up in England, glad to be rid of such a

life. Why would I even desire to return, knowing how much she hated it?”

“He wanted you to marry into a good family, and he left it up to me to make it happen. He wrote up

the appropriate papers giving me guardianship, and sent me on my way. When I returned to the isle, I had

everything worked out. The King had agreed to all his terms. I gave up the location of the island, and it

was agreed that I would have a month to get all the affairs in order before the British made their