In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) (5 page)

Hastening to reassure, Sarah took Sophia’s hand, felt the tremors and regretted having scared her.

“I won’t tell a soul, I give you my word. I only mention it because”—she shrugged—“it was the first kiss I’ve ever seen.” Remembering the longing she’d felt watching, she continued. “He was waiting for you and you ran toward him, so sure. The moonlight wrapped around you as surely as his arms did. Then your mouths met and it”—she flushed, let go of Sophia’s hand to place her own on her heated cheeks—“it went on and on. I didn’t know kissing could be like that.”

Sophia raced to the doorway, poked her head out, looked both ways and then closed the door.

“I apologize, Miss Sarah, and I can assure you it will not happen again on your father’s property.” Eyes downcast, Sophia strode back to the bed.

This time it was Sarah who stepped between the maid and the mattress. “Sophia, please. You know what my life is like. I’ve asked my father about courting and marriage and he always has the same answer, no man would ever be good enough for me. It appears all I’ll ever know about such embraces is what you tell me.”

“It’s not—”

“Proper. Yes, I know. I’m lonely, Sophia, and more than anything, I could use a friend.” Truer words had never been spoken. While she had purpose behind them, there was comfort in knowing she wasn’t lying. “You wash my hair, you’ve seen me naked, surely you can share a bit of yourself as well.”

When Sophia began shifting from foot to foot, Sarah knew it was time to press her advantage.

“The day after tomorrow is to be my eighteenth birthday. While I imagine Mrs. Bingham will ensure there’s a cake and enough food to feed an army and my father will be here with his small mountain of gifts, what I would really like is to have one birthday, just one, where it truly is about what I want.”

The tears moistening her eyes no doubt helped her argument but they were also real. Her life until now had been about what her father demanded, what he deemed best for her. What was expected of her. Her thoughts and feelings were never considered. Should her plan succeed, she’d have the rest of her life to live as she wanted but if it didn’t, at least she would have had one night.

“I’ve overheard you and Emma talk sometimes as you see to your work. How the wine tasted so sweet and made your head feel light and misty. How, if you drank too much, it put you to sleep. I know you’ve had wine, Sophia, and that you’ve had a man’s hands on you, his mouth on yours. All I’m asking is—”

“You want a man and some wine? For your birthday!”

“Shh!” Sarah hissed, as she was now the one worried about their voices carrying to Mrs. Bingham. “Not a man, clearly. And not on my birthday as my father will be here then. I was thinking tomorrow night. I’ll find a way to get some wine from the cellar and you can tell me about your man. What it’s like to have a man’s lips on yours. To feel strong arms wrapped around you. To know passion.” Since her maid remained uncommitted, Sarah pressed further. “His name is Jacob, isn’t it?”

Sophia’s stance softened. “Yes.”

“Jacob,” Sarah repeated. “A good strong name. Is he a good, strong man?”

Her maid’s cheeks flushed pink.

“You see! This is what I want to know, what I’m hoping you’ll share with me. And I promise whatever is said and done in this room goes no further than the door. Please. One night. And you’ve nothing to do but tell me about the wonderful Jacob and share some wine. With a friend,” she added with her most charming smile.

“If your father ever discovered…”

“I would take full responsibility.” She’d already penned the letter she intended to leave behind, stating the idea and series of events were her doing and hers alone. Her father might have a temper, but he would never punish an innocent.

“Imagine yourself as me, never having felt what you do in Jacob’s arms and likely never having the chance to know. Would you wish such a thing on anybody?”

Sophia’s shoulders fell and she sighed. “I would not wish such an existence on anyone. And you’re right, you are not asking for so very much. You’ll give me your word neither your father nor Mrs. Bingham will ever know?”

“Your secret with Jacob is safe with me.” Unfortunately for her plan to succeed, they would learn of the wine. Still, Sarah had taken measures to ensure Sophia wouldn’t be held accountable. She wasn’t proud of using Sophia but, in the months she’d been planning, no other viable option had come to mind. And she would have done everything she could to protect Sophia from blame.

The longer Sophia looked at Sarah, indecision weighing in her eyes, the harder Sarah’s heart began to pound.
Say yes
, she willed.
Please, please say yes
. Without this first piece of her plan in place, the rest would be impossible to achieve.

Sarah’s hands trembled. She looked past Sophia to the turquoise sea sparkling beyond the window. Was she to live her life never knowing if the water was cool as a drink from the well or warm as the summer breeze? Would she never feel sand beneath her bare feet? Would she never know the thrill of being held and cherished? A thick knot of fear wedged in her throat. Would she spend the entire length of her life as alone as she felt in that moment?

“Yes, Miss Sarah. I’ll help you.”

Her knees wanted to buckle. “You will?”

With a gentle smile, Sophia squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Lucky for you I enjoy talking about Jacob nearly as much as being with him. Now, go, before I get into trouble.”

“Thank you, Sophia. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

And no matter what came of her plan, Sarah promised herself, neither would she.

“I
s that it?”

With his first mate Chunk standing at his right, Aidan swept the looking glass back and forth along his starboard side. They were far from shore yet, a deliberate strategy so as not to alert anyone in the yard or in the house, though it was little more than gleaming windows and a brown roof. Still it looked as Grace had described it. Not that she’d ever seen it, as Roche had mostly kept her prisoner in his cabin, but when they’d anchored once overnight, she’d asked a crewman she’d befriended to describe to her what she wasn’t permitted to see for herself.

A two-level house set back from the beach surrounded by a brick wall covered in vines. He couldn’t see much brick through the glass but there was definitely a thick wall of green blocking the house from the beach. The lower level of the house was hidden behind it, leaving Aidan at a distinct disadvantage. He had no way of seeing or knowing where the doors were to get in or how many guards patrolled the area. Grace’s friend hadn’t supplied her with too many details.

“It looks right, feels right.” Aidan slapped the glass closed, set it back on its perch next to the wheel. “But it won’t be easy.”

Squawk.
“Won’t be easy. Won’t be easy.”

His parrot, Carracks, bobbed along his perch in the cage set at Aidan’s feet. On the
Revenge,
Aidan had fashioned a hook to hang the cage from, but as this was Luke’s ship, he’d had to set the parrot on the deck.

Chunk shrugged. “Nothing worth having ever is.”

“That’s the truth of it,” Aidan agreed.

Above them the sky was an undisturbed sea of blue. The gentle breeze swayed through the sails and eased the ship along. They would fight tonight, but at least they wouldn’t also be fighting the weather. Turning the wheel portside, Aidan sailed smoothly away from Roche’s house. They weren’t the only ship about. There were small fishing boats bobbing in the wakes of the larger frigates and sloops that passed them by. There were enough other ships about that theirs shouldn’t alert the guards. But to be sure, he intended to wait until they were completely out of sight of the house before dropping anchor.

Once they had, Aidan gathered his crew on deck and together they went through the plan yet again. They might not have as much information about Roche’s house and grounds as Aidan would have liked, but he went through the possibilities, the strategies.

“Our best chance is to be as quiet as possible. I don’t want pistols blazing unless we have to. We have knives and I’ll have my bow. Whoever gets to Sarah first needs to silence her before she can scream for help. Silence only,” he reminded them. “I don’t want her hurt if we can avoid it.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then try to keep the damage minimal.” Aidan grabbed the papers he’d set out on the deck to go over the plan, rolled them as he came to his feet. “Remember, men, Sarah is the means to the end; it’s Roche we’re after.”

*

The minutes of
the day passed as slow as if he were trying to run in thick sand while attempting to carry a cask full of rum. It wasn’t that he idled the day away. He, Chunk, and two other crewmen—Lucky and Jacques—took the longboat ashore. After several wrong turns, they found what certainly had to be Roche’s home. Not only did Aidan recognize the roofline with its three chimneys as the one he’d seen from the ship, but it was the only house in the vicinity with an iron gate. If he didn’t know better, he’d think a governor or some aspect of royalty lived beyond its boundaries.

He would expect with the rock wall at the back, with this gate at the front, and with at least four guards he could see, that Roche would have perched cannons next to the chimneys jutting from the roof. Instead, it appeared as though Roche had opted for a less obvious tactic. Smart to be ready and prepared without being obvious. If he had those cannons it would draw more attention, make people come and wonder. Talk. This way, people simply accepted it as it was and after a time likely stopped speculating.

Definitely smart, Aidan mused as he sat on his haunches in the bushes across from the house. But, as he imagined the locals eventually became complacent about the home and who lived inside, he hoped the guards had also become less wary. Hopefully even bored.

As they had time, too damn much of it, left before darkness fell and he could put his plan into action, Aidan remained hidden while he studied. He had no intention of coming from the front, but if he happened to see a weakness, an easy way to breach the gate, he was willing to alter the plan. Whatever it took to get Sarah out as quickly and easy as possible. While he was prepared for the difficult, even tricky, he would certainly appreciate the easy right about now.

The flies buzzed, bit, and annoyed as he bided his time. Sweat ran hot and sticky under his shirt until his back twitched with a gnawing need to scratch away the itch. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and upper lip, blocked the discomfort from his mind—he’d had worse—while he kept an eye on the guard. One remained in clear view either sitting in the small structure to the side of the lane or pacing before the gate. He wasn’t alone, though he was the only one Aidan saw.

There was at least two more, one on either side of the hedge butting up to the gate. As the guard strolled from side to side, Aidan heard their muted conversation, the odd chuckle of laughter from both sides of the lane. Three for certain, though if he were a betting man he’d say at least five as he would expect another two, closer to the front doors. And that wasn’t counting who was inside the house with Sarah.

Confident he’d gleaned as much as he was going to from that angle, Aidan scuttled back further into the trees. When enough wide palms and assorted leaves and shoots blocked the house from his view he braced his back against a tree trunk and used it to scratch the itch as he came to his feet. He sighed when both the itch and the cramping in his legs eased. Then, signaling to Lucky, Jacques, and Chunk they pushed their way out of the small jungle and made their way back to the beach.

They were fortunate; others were swimming in the water or lying on the sand. One family with its two small children was occupied building a moat around a small but clever sandcastle. It wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary for Aidan and his men to also loiter about as though they had nothing better to do than cool themselves in the gentle surf.

“You forgot your shirt,” Chunk said as he tossed his own negligently aside on the white sand.

There was a reason they called him Chunk, Aidan thought and it wasn’t because the man was portly. Thick muscles roped along his arms, defined his chest and made his neck twice the size of Lucky’s. Aidan imagined if a man ever had the misfortune of running into Chunk it would surely feel as though he’d run up against a brick wall.

He was damn glad the man would be on their side when they went in for Roche’s daughter later.

“Next to you, Chunk, I would appear no more than a waif.” Aidan chuckled as the water lapped gently at his ankles, then thighs. It was true enough, he thought as the sea wrapped around his waist, but it wasn’t the reason he kept his shirt on. Only Sam, Luke, and Joe—whom he’d known since he was a young boy slaving on a plantation—knew of the lash marks on his back. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, though the angry scars certainly weren’t pretty. He simply never felt the need to bring attention to them. They were a part of an ugly past and he was no longer that scared and abused boy. Just as he wasn’t Caden Hunter anymore, either. But at one time he’d been both and Roche had had a hand in each. Tonight, however, it was Aidan who’d be stealing something from Roche.