A Pirate's Ransom (6 page)

“Captain, ye ‘bout done wit yer dinner?” Mister Smith called as he started up the steps toward the wheel deck.

“Edmund,” I whispered. I didn’t want to be caught in this compromising situation, yet I didn’t want him to stop. Waves of disappointment washed over me when I felt the weight of my skirt fall back to the floor as Edmund released me. He moved quickly to adjust the bodice of my gown and cover my nakedness. I turned away from him and faced the great wheel, my breathing still raspy from our encounter.

“Oh, sorry, Captain ... I didn’t realize ... I ...” Smith stammered as he averted his gaze.

“No, no, Mister Smith. I was instructing the Countess on reading the stars and teaching her how to handle the wheel.”

“Aye, I’m sure ye was teachin’ her ‘ow te handle somethin’,” he murmured under his breath. He inclined his head toward me and said, “Evenin’, Countess.”

“Good evening, Mister Smith,” I uttered, thankful for the moonless night that hid my embarrassment.
How had I allowed this to go so far? Allowed myself to get so carried away?

“I see ye ain’t touched yer dinner, Captain.”

“Nay, as I said, Mister Smith, I was instructing the Countess.”

“Guess ye ain’t hungry then?”

“Oh, yes, Mister Smith ... I’m hungry.”

“Aye, I be sure ye be. Ye want me te leave the plate then?”

“Aye.”

“I’ll leave ye then to yer lesson.” He turned to retreat.

“No, wait, Mister Smith. I believe the Captain has finished with the lesson, and I should probably get to my cabin.” Then looking to Edmund, I continued. “Thank you, Captain, for the insightful education.”

“It was a pleasure, Countess. I look forward to your next lesson.”

I rushed past Mister Smith and made my way down to my cabin, praying no one noticed the color that I knew must be staining my cheeks.

That night I tossed and turned in the oversized bed, as memories of his kisses haunted my dreams. Visions of him sitting naked in a tub of warm bath water left me breathless. As I tossed and turned, my legs became entwined in the bed linens, causing me to dream of Edmund. Imagining his warm lips roaming my body, his tongue licking my nipples as he did at the wheel, his fingers running up my thighs caused a hot flood of desire to pool in my core.

I sat bolt upright in bed, panting for breath. In my fitful sleep, I thought I heard the sound of the cabin door closing. Yet when I lit the candle and surveyed the room, I found no one to be there.

The following morning, Mary and I strolled along the deck together. I had planned to begin reading to the crew, but as I walked along a thought occurred to me. I could use this opportunity to my advantage, if I choose to sit in precisely the right place. Coming across a small stack of crates, directly in the Captain’s line-of-sight, I smiled.
Perfect.

“Here. We shall sit here, Mary,” I announced.

Following the line of my gaze, Mary whispered, “I fear ye be playin’ with fire by tauntin’ the Captain so, Miss.”

“Far better this than a life spent in a loveless marriage with the Old Duke.”

Straightening my skirts, I sat upon the crate and mustering what I thought to be my most innocent look, I opened the book, a leather-bound tomb containing tales written by Homer. Six or seven men drew closer, but no one wanted to be the first to approach.

“Come, gentlemen, sit here upon the deck,” I said, indicating the space at my feet, “and I shall begin.” I gave them my most dazzling smile.

Mister Smith stood at the back of the group. I was uncertain as to the reason for his interest, the reading or my maid, but I said nothing.

Clearing my throat and lifting the book, I began to read. As my eyes skimmed over the words, I was eager to steal a glance toward the man who stood at the wheel, but dared not.

My voice sounded clear and strong as I read and interest shown upon the men’s faces as the tale of Odysseus unfolded. I wondered if anyone had ever read to any of the men since their childhood, or even if then.

More engrossed in the telling of the tale, the thoughts of chancing a peek at the Captain slipped to the back of my mind. The feeling of his dark stare burned into me, and I began to fidget in my seat. Finally unable to tolerate it a moment longer, I gave in to my curiosity and lifted my eyes to glance toward him. My gaze was met by clear green eyes dancing with amusement. My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat as his eyes darkened and he drew his gaze away from mine.

I glanced at Mister Smith, who had followed the line of my stare and witnessed the exchange. Hardly able to find my voice, I lowered my eyes back to the volume in my trembling hand but found it impossible to resume reading.

“That will be all for today. My voice grows tired,” I murmured, much to my audience’s disapproval.

“You heard the Countess,” Smith chimed. “Besides, it be well past the time ye be gettin’ to work. Move along now, move along.”

“I shall read more tomorrow, I promise,” I said.
But next time I shall find a place out of
his
line-of-sight.

“Thank you, Mister Smith.”

“It weren’t nothin’, me Lady,” he answered, and turned to walk away.

“Mister Smith?”

“Aye.”

“Come, sit with me a moment.”

The wiry man chanced a quick glance up toward the Captain, but complied with my request and sat upon a crate next to me.

“Wot can I do for ye?”

“Mister Smith, I would like to teach you to speak as a gentleman.”

“A gent, ye say?”

“Yes, Mister Smith, a gentleman. Now, repeat after me. How do you do?”

“‘ow doo ye doo?”

“No, no, no. It’s not ‘oow doo ye doo’ ... it is ‘how do you do?’”

“Aye, me Lady, that be wot I said.”

I fought to control the twitch of my lips upward. After all, he was trying.

“Mister Smith, when you meet another gentleman you must say ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance.’ Now, you try it.”

“I be pleased te be makin’ yer acquaintance.”

“I am. Not I be.”

“I am pleased te be makin’ yer acquaintance.” He smiled with pride.

“That’s better, but we must practice.”

“Aye ... er ... yes, that be true.”

I frowned.

“Yes, tis true?” He smiled.

“Very good, Mister Smith.”

“Do ye really be thinkin’ ye can teach me to be a proper gent?”

“It will take some time, but I am sure any man can be taught to be a gentleman. Why, Mister Smith, I can see you now dressed in your finery and attending parties in the grand salons of London.”

We laughed together, but I noticed Mister Smith’s eyes traveling toward the man standing behind us at the wheel of the ship.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, me Lady, but I best be gettin’ to me work now. We can practice another day.”

“Certainly, Mister Smith,” I replied. As much as I wanted to, I refused to allow myself to steal even a glance in Edmund’s direction, though I desperately wanted to. I feared if I looked at him, he would know of my wanton dreams and of the feelings I had for him. Feelings I could not deny.

“Seems there be lots o’ lessons bein’ given aboard this ship of late,” Mister Smith murmured under his breath as he scurried away.

Later that day as I sat atop a barrel that rested at the base of a large mast, I gazed out at the sea wondering if there was any truth in the conversation I had overheard between the two pirates that morning.
Could Edmund Drake really find me attractive? Surely that must be the case or why would he kiss me so? But if that were the case, how could I be the cause of the Captain’s bad temper?
The memory of our encounter of last night played in my mind, and I sighed as a feeling of warmth washed over me. Deep in my thoughts, I failed to hear Edmund’s approach until he rested his warm hand upon my shoulder.

“Milady,” he said, “I wonder if I might interest you in some company?”

Perhaps there was some truth to the pirate’s theory after all.
I faced him, and a shy smile slipped across my lips. “Certainly, Captain.”

He took a seat upon the barrel beside mine but seemed to fidget a bit.
So out of character. He portrays the rough and confident pirate, and at other times an elegant gentleman, yet he seems unsure of how to carry himself here with me.
Then I noticed the book in his hand.

“What have you there, Captain?

“Tis a book of sonnets,” he said, handing the small tome to me. “I wish to give it to you, Countess, as a gift.” I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to grow a lighter shade of green and twinkle with his genuine smile.

Accepting the small leather-bound volume, still warm from his touch, I felt a lump rise in my throat. No man had ever given me a gift before and my heart swelled with joy.

“How sweet of you, Captain,” I answered in a voice just above a whisper.

“It would give me great pleasure if you would call me Edmund.”

“Edmund, I hardly know what to say.” I said, looking up at him.

“Please say you will accept this small gift and allow me to read to you from it.”

“Thank you, Edmund. I accept this wonderful gift and would be delighted to listen to you read,” I replied, handing the book back to him.

His fingers brushed against mine, and it seemed he allowed his touch to linger there for a long moment as he took the volume from my hand. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, and I looked away as my heart fluttered.

Opening the book, he began to read. His deep voice took on a tender tone. He spoke softly, privately, only for my ears. The words of the sonnet were those of a man speaking to his lover, and my pulse quickened. Closing my eyes, I imagined being in his arms again, the taste of his kiss fresh in my memory. We sat so close that our shoulders touched, and I did not realize I had come to rest my head upon his shoulder while I listened to the deep timber of his voice softly uttering the sweet words of love. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the nearness of him and the scent of his warm skin made me lightheaded. A feeling of total contentment took hold of me, and a deep sigh slipped from my lips.

The sound of his voice combined with that of the sea and wind lulled me into a dream like trance. I could listen to him reciting words of love for the remainder of my days, if only I dared to believe for one moment there was any meaning behind them.

The melody of his strong, deep voice was interrupted by the pulsing sound of running feet rushing toward us. I lifted my head from Edmund’s shoulder with a start.

“Captain, Captain, might I have a word?” Smith said breathlessly as he approached. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Captain, me Lady.” He paused to catch a breath. “Sorry to interrupt, but-”

“Lady Catherine, if you would kindly excuse me,” Edmund said and handed the book to me. “Perhaps we shall be able to find a moment to continue this at another time.”

He glanced at his Quartermaster and a frown furrowed his brow, but he softened when his gaze came back to me.

Taking the book from him, I said, “Yes, of course. I shall look forward to it.”

“As will I.” Turning back toward Mister Smith, he murmured, “Smith, this matter best be of grave importance.”

“Aye, Captain, it be,” the wiry man replied as the two walked away, their voices low in muffled conversation.

I held the book close to my heart. Drunk with the words of love he had read swirling in my head, I leaned back against the mast and closed my eyes.

Edmund

“Mister Smith, I find we shall have to change course. We have need to make port. Cook tells me the larder is running low,” Edmund said as he stood before the great wooden wheel.

“Aye, Captain,” the wiry Quartermaster replied.

“I fear we shall be forced to dine on hard cheese and dried bread for supper tonight.”

“Nay, Sir. Cook says we be havin’ an island meal tonight.”

“An island meal?”

“Aye, Captain. The Lady Catherine be makin’ our supper. She be claimin’ to have fashioned meals o’ far less.”

“Mister Smith, do you mean to tell me the Countess is down in the galley cooking?”

“Aye.”

“Take the wheel. This is a sight I simply must see.”

“Captain, beggin’ yer pardon, Sir, but her Ladyship, she don’t be wantin’ no one to be knowin’ she ever been in dire circumstances.”

“Very well then, I shall wait and see what sumptuous feast awaits us this night.”

Lady Catherine

Cook had lent me one of his aprons, which would fit around me at least twice. I stood in the galley, cleaning and cutting up fish in preparation of our evening meal.

I hope these men like my version of Callaloo.
Cooking the meal I often made for my father drew my thoughts to him. I couldn’t help but wonder how he had fared. Memories of our island home filled me with such a melancholy sadness and brought to mind songs the island children sang. I smiled as I began to hum one of them. It made the time pass and suddenly I no longer gave a care to the smell of fish.

The meal was ready just in time for dinner. I was anxious for the crew to arrive and sample my creation.

Skepticism was written upon the faces of the men when they entered the galley, yet their hunger won out and soon everyone was seated around the table.

The hearty aroma of the meal arrived moments before Cook appeared with the tureen. Bowls full of the delicious concoction of rice, fish, and beans were laid upon the table. The men were eager to taste what was set before them and were quick to scoop up heaping spoonfuls to sample the fare. I sat in silence, suppressing a smile, awaiting their comments.

“Is this wot become o’ them fish we netted today?” one of them asked.

“Aye,” the cook replied as he laid out some dark bread.

“What is that delightful aroma?” the Captain asked, entering the galley with a smile.

“Her Ladyship calls it
Callaloo
, and it be right tasty,” the cook answered.

Edmund’s eyes met mine. With one eyebrow raised and a crooked half smile he asked, “Am I to believe you made this meal, Countess?”

“Yes, Captain. I have been known to have made a meal from far less.”

“Hmm, well, let us hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“It do, Captain, it sure do,” the cook replied.

Edmund took a seat at the table and Cook handed him a bowl full of the stew. He put the first spoonful into his mouth, and I held my breath.

“Countess, what exactly is this?” he asked.

Thinking he didn’t care for my cooking, my heart sank to my feet. “It is a dish called
Callaloo
and is quite common in the islands. I would be pleased if you found it to be adequate.”

“It is far more than adequate. It’s completely delicious.”

I felt the sting of a blush at his compliment. “Thank you, Captain.”

“No, Milady. Thank you.”

That night, after we had dined, Mary and I took a stroll on deck to get some fresh air before retiring for the evening and to the confines of our cabins. It was rare for me to be on deck at this late hour, but the cool night air and the spray of the sea were so refreshing. As we walked, we came upon the crew and I was amused watching these pirates engaging in relaxing activities. Some played cards, others rolled dice in a betting game of chance, and some danced around while others played fiddles, a pipe, and squeezebox. I found myself drawn to the sound of the lively music. Standing among them, I clapped and laughed watching the activity and before long one of the pirates called Willy grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him into the dance. Willy was a strapping man with a ragged beard. He looked to be quite a ruffian, but in truth I found him to be a gentle giant. I hesitated at first, not wanting to draw unwanted attention, but saw that Mary, too, had been swept up by Mister Smith and crossed the deck, feet flying and giggles floating on the air.

Although I didn’t know the steps, I found the dance exhilarating and quite enjoyable and grew breathless at being pulled from one set of arms to the other and swirled around to the lively tune until steely arms gripped me in a close embrace. The music stopped. I stared up into sparkling green eyes and my breath caught in my throat.

“May I have the honor of this dance, Milady?”

“It is I who would be honored, Captain,” I replied in what was little more than a whisper.

“What’s ‘e doin’ ‘ere?” Whispers rose among the crew.

“‘e ain’t never left ‘is post.”

“Can bet it’s the likes of ‘er.”

If Edmund heard the grumble rolling among his men, he didn’t let on. He gestured toward the pirate they called Fiddler and said, “Carry on.” With a shrug, Fiddler lifted the well-worn instrument and Jake picked up his squeezebox and together they started playing a tune with a slower pace.

Edmund held me so close I could barely breathe, or perhaps I could barely breathe because he held me so close. His body was strong and warm and the scent of his skin made my head spin. He moved slowly to the music, leading me across the deck with masterful ease. It became a struggled to hear the strains of the waltz over the sound of my heart thundering in my ears when he nuzzled my hair.

“You smell delightful, Milady,” he said as he placed a soft kiss upon my temple.

My legs felt like jelly, and I was thankful he held me so tightly lest I fall.

“Captain, you have been aboard this ship for far too long if you find the scent of me delightful, yet you flatter me.”

“I find much about you to be delightful, Milady.”

“You do not find me to be scrawny and too thin?”

“No. You are quite beautiful. What makes you think you are too thin?”

“My father always told me I was scrawny and that because of it, he would never make a suitable match for me.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yes, Captain, I do.”

“Well, let me assure you, you are one of the loveliest women I have ever met, and I believe I have asked you to call me Edmund.”

“Yes. That you did. Then it is only fitting, Edmund, that you call me Catherine.”

“Yes, Milady.”

“You waltz divinely for a man of the sea.”

“Now it is you who flatters me, Lady Catherine.”

He swirled me around with such zest that he lifted me off my feet and held my body pressed tightly against his. His gaze turned dark and smoldering and he stood motionless upon the deck, holding me to him. I clung to his broad shoulders, my heart hammering against his chest. Caught in the spell that seemed to swirl around us, he lowered his head. Just when I thought he was about to kiss me, the music came to an end and drew us from our trance.

Slowly he released me until I felt my feet upon the deck, then taking my hand he brought it to his lips. Placing a soft kiss upon my fingers, he said, “Thank you for the dance, Milady, it was truly a pleasure.” He turned away and quickly walked into the shadows.

He left me standing there among his crew with my legs shaking. I was breathless from the closeness of him and from his kiss upon my temple and my fingers. Warmth spread through me, and I felt lightheaded from the feelings this pirate stirred in me.

The music started up again, but this time not the slow strains of a waltz, but rather much livelier sounds. Standing on trembling legs in the center of the crowd, I watched as men swirled around me, passing Mary among them from arm to arm. Everyone wrapped up in the music once again. My thought lingered with the man whose waltz took my breath away.

That night as I readied myself for bed, I thought of being in Edmund’s arms, and a warm feeling rushed through me. I couldn’t help but grin. But when I approached the bed and saw a note and small box upon my pillow, the grin turned to a brilliant smile.

My name was scrawled across the folded paper in his masculine handwriting. I held the note close to my thundering heart for a moment. Butterflies danced in my stomach with the anticipation of what his message would say. I took a deep breath and unfolded the parchment.

Milady,

Thank you for the delightful dinner and an even more delightful dance. It is my fervent wish and deepest desire that you accept this gift as a small token of my gratitude. It would give me great pleasure to see it upon your wrist when next we meet.

Edmund

Heart skittering in anticipation, I opened the box to find a lovely silver bracelet. Threads of delicate silver were woven together into a band and there, hanging from the lovely and delicate threads of silver, was a brilliant red gem carved into the perfect shape of a heart and surrounded in silver to secure it.

Hurriedly I donned the delicate bracelet and fingered the heart-shaped stone.
Dare I hope I stir the same feelings in him as he does in me?