Pirate's Golden Promise (10 page)

She could tell her words made him feel better when his face brightened.

“We'll be together,” he said. “We're like a set of bookends.”

Wynter laughed. That was one thing about Fletcher, she decided, he always made her smile.

Later that night, Fletcher woke her with a hacking cough. He sat bolt upright, his body shaking as each cough left him drained.

“Fletch, you're sick,” she said and touched his forehead to see if he ran a fever. He didn't.

He shook his head in denial. “A slight cough. I'll be fine in the morning.”

“Morning!” Davey bellowed from his side of the small storage area. “By that time my eyes will be falling out of my head, and I'll be deaf from all that hacking if I don't get me some sleep.”

“Hush, Davey,” Hilda, the older woman, who was also an indenturer, said. “The lad's caught himself a bad cough. Don't make him feel worse. He can't help it.”

“Hilda's right,” young Mary piped up from the corner where she lay. “You're just a mean old codger.”

“Quiet, you two hens,” Davey scoffed. “You're worse than the boy with all your cackling.”

Fletch apologized. As each cough wracked him anew, Wynter pulled him down beside her and muffled his coughs against her chest.

Near midnight, Wynter fell into a light doze, unable to fall into a deep sleep like Fletch, who had quieted during the night, and the others. Suddenly she was jarred awake by the sound of running feet above her and the raised voices of the seamen. After a few minutes the door was thrown open by a middle-aged sailor.

“A pirate ship's been spotted!” he cried. “You all best stay here and don't come out for anything.”

“Pirates!” the five all yelled at once, all instantly awake.

“Don't be fearful,” Fletch said above Hilda's and Mary's wailings. “I'll protect you.”

The five people huddled together. The sound of artillery boomed nearer, and from the bowels of the ship, the
Mary Jack
answered with a resounding boom of her own.

“Those pirates are going to overtake us,” Davey said pessimistically.

“Oh, no!” Mary cried. “I've heard fearsome tales about what pirates do to their captives if they let them live, especially the women ones.”

Wynter had heard the same stories but sensed that Mary was growing panicky, and if they were boarded they should all keep their wits about them. “Don't be silly,” Wynter declared. “Why, I've been told by a seaman that many pirates are quite gentlemanly.”

“Don't you believe it,” old Davey interjected. “No woman's safe with a pirate, and certainly not one with your looks.”

Fletcher's arm tightened around Wynter's waist. They waited for what seemed like hours until the cannons stopped booming. When all was quiet, Fletch said, “Maybe we scared them off.”

Just when they began to relax, the door to the cabin creaked open and a large man with dark, stringy hair, dressed in red breeches with a white shirt, peered in. Immediately they knew pirates had boarded the
Mary Jack.

“Well, well, what we got here?” the man said.

Two other men, who looked just as frightening, stood in the doorway to observe. “They must be bondsmen,” one of the men said in a scoffing tone, but his accent proclaimed him as Dutch.

“The captain said to bring all the cargo, and I suppose these people are considered cargo. Come on, mevrouw,” he said and hauled Hilda to her feet. “No one's going to bite you. Come on, all of you. The captain of the
Sea Bride
waits above. We're ready to set sail.”

The others followed docilely along, but when Wynter finally made it to the upper deck, she balked. There was barely nothing left of the six sails which had floated in the breeze the evening before. She smelled the pungent odor of gunpowder and noticed that the twelve crew members all lay sprawled in eternal slumber on the wooden floor.

“Come along,” the pirate coaxed her. “We don't have all night. The captain is ready to sail.”

The man placed a hand on her wrist, and she twisted away in a fury. How dare such a filthy creature touch her!

“I'd like to know where you're taking us,” she said.

“Wynter—” Fletcher said helplessly beside her.

“I should like to know.” She didn't take her angry gray eyes off the dark-haired man.

The pirate, for all his fierce looks, wasn't one for dealing with women. In fact, he didn't have much use for them because they always made him feel awkward and unsure, though he could brawl with the best of the hot-tempered scum that sailed in the Caribbean. Taking one look at Wynter's flushed face, he knew he had a tigress here.

“Please just come calmly or the captain will hear.”

“I should like to meet this captain of yours,” she demanded.

The pirate said something in Dutch, and she knew it wasn't nice whatever it was.

“A problem, Dirk?” a male voice bellowed from the far side of the deck.

“Ja, Kapitien. Vrouw—” His voice drifted off as he moved to the shadowed area where the captain of the
Sea Bride
waited, and Wynter knew the pirate was informing his captain she was causing trouble. But damn! she swore to herself, she wouldn't let these pirates take her off to God only knew where without a fight. And she was surprised by Fletch who stood docilely by.

She heard the two men's voices, then the hearty laughter of the rest of the pirate crew.

“Dirk, my friend,” the pirate spoke in English. “The woman will just have to come along or spend the night waiting for this ship to sink so she can be ready meat for the sharks in the morning. Your problem is you have a kind heart. I'll handle this troublesome wench.”

“Ja, ja,” Dirk agreed.

From where Wynter stood she noticed lights in the dark night aboard the pirate ship, and though the captain had said the
Mary Jack
was sinking, she couldn't imagine actually boarding such a vessel.

Her attention was brought again to the shadowy outline of the captain when she heard him say, “I'll see to the woman.”

A dying lantern which hung from a wall peg illumined the captain as he walked forward. Wynter caught her breath. It couldn't be! But it was, and when his tawny gaze widened in mute surprise, she felt faint.

“Take these people to the ship,” Van Linden ordered Dirk and two others. “Leave the lady here. I'll see she gets aboard safely.”

Fletcher was about to protest, but he noticed that something had passed between his wife and the captain. Silently he was led away.

Van Linden advanced towards Wynter. His long legs, clad in dark brown pants and boots, appeared longer as his shadow hovered over her. The dying lantern light emphasized the hard angles of his face, the golden hair that blew in the strengthening breeze.

He stared long and hard at her, almost as if he couldn't believe it was her. But Wynter rose to her full height and placed her hands on her hips.

“Merchant ship, indeed! You're nothing but a bloody pirate.”

“Such vile language from such a lovely mouth is offensive,” he complained, but amusement lit his features.

“I'll have quite a bit more to say when I report you to the authorities,” Wynter retorted.

Van Linden shook his head. “Well, you can wait here until you're found, but that may be a long while; or you can be sensible and board the
Sea Bride
with me. Believe me, I shall make certain your every wish is met.”

She didn't care for the sound of that and said haughtily, “I want nothing from you, sir, but to be taken to shore.”

He laughed, a long hard laugh that aggravated her more. “My dear, there's not a thing around but water. We're some days from land. Anyway, don't worry your beautiful head about something that is my job anyway.”

“I see how well you do your job!” Wynter snapped.

“Someone must do it.” He sounded detached, almost philosophical. “Now tell me what are you doing here and with such a low-born bunch.”

She didn't want to tell him the truth, expecting him to laugh at her, but she knew there was no way around it. He'd find out sooner or later.

“I'm on my way to Virginia with my husband. We're indenturers.”

“You're jesting,” he said.

Wynter shook her head. “You know Father made no provisions for me in his will. I have no money, nothing. Just the love of my husband. And if I must work my fingers to the bone to get the money to buy my father's estate, I shall.”

Cort's eyes took in her plain appearance, and he realized she was telling the truth. “Your husband is a lucky man,” he said.

This wasn't what she expected him to say, and it disarmed her. The deck tilted suddenly, and she felt herself skidding into his arms. She began to fight when he picked her up, feet dangling in the air.

“Keep your hands off me! How dare you!”

“I dare because this ship will soon sink, and I have much too much life left in me to become food for the sharks. And I think you do, too.”

Cort positioned her over his shoulder, her head hanging down. She had no idea what he was going to do, or how he would be able to board his own ship, carrying her like so much baggage.

“You can put me down, sir. I won't run away,” she said.

She felt him lift his leg, then with a start she saw they were on the railing.

Heights had always frightened her, and she pleaded with him again to put her down.

“Look beneath you,” he ordered.

She did so, and saw a black mass of churning sea and heard the pounding sound of the waves against the hull of the ship.

“It's the ocean,” she said, terrified.

“Can you swim?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then hold on to my neck. We're going to jump to the
Sea Bride.”

Wynter lifted her head and saw that the
Sea Bride
was alongside the
Mary Jack,
held in place by grappling hooks. Stout Hilda was being swung across the distance by a swarthy pirate who held onto a rope from the mast head.

“You're crazed,” Wynter said, realizing Van Linden had meant what he said.

He laughed. “I've been called many things, but never that.” He changed her position, holding her within his strong left arm while he grabbed for the rope when it swung back to the sinking
Mary Jack.

“Now hold tightly!” he ordered, and she did so out of a terror that seemed to claw at her very soul. The moment her arms tightened around him, he bounced off the rail.

They sailed through dark space, and Wynter held onto him, waiting for the inevitable splash into the sea. She closed her eyes and hoped that if she went under water she'd surface quickly enough to catch another breath.

But suddenly she heard a thud and nearly flew from her protector's arms. Still she wouldn't open her eyes until she heard Cort's gentle voice telling her to.

Her lids fluttered open and she saw they were on the deck of the
Sea Bride,
surrounded by the pirate crew. She noticed Fletch and the others being led below deck.

Despite the fact that she thought Cort Van Linden one of the most despicable men in the world, she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief and leaned against the solid weight of his body.

“It's a miracle,” she said, glad to be alive and not at the bottom of the ocean.

Cort set her down gently to her feet and turned her to face him, “No, my love, it's destiny.”

The
Sea Bride
sliced through the calm waters of the Atlantic. The first rays of a golden sun kissed the deep blue of the ocean and warmed the indentures as they sat huddled on deck, sipping fresh tea offered them by a young cabin boy.

The boy's English was poor, and his eyes riveted on Wynter when he spoke. “Tea, is good?” he asked.

Wynter nodded and sipped the warm brew. “Very good.”

“Ja, ja. Me make good tea.” Then the boy disappeared with a contented look on his face.

“Tsk, tsk,” Hilda said in disapproval. “That lad is no older than twelve. Such a pity he should be among pirates.”

“Aye, it is,” Davey agreed, but Mary said nothing, looking as if she were about to cry.

Fletcher coughed, and Wynter gently patted his back. “You're still unwell,” she said.

He lifted his head after wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve, and the look he gave her froze any further offers of sympathy from her. “A lot you care, Wynter. I saw the way the captain looked at you, how he held you in his arms. T'ain't no bloke holds a wench that way except if he wants to lie with her.”

“Fletch!” How dare he speak to her in such a derogatory way? She couldn't help it if Cort Van Linden wasn't a gentleman, but she most certainly hadn't asked to be hauled from the
Mary Jack
onto a pirate ship, and she resented the accusing tone in his voice that she enjoyed being manhandled by Van Linden. What was worse were the speculative glances the others threw her. “I think you don't realize to whom you're speaking,” she said in her most frosty, mistress-of-the-manor voice.

“I'm talking to my wife,” Fletcher reminded her harshly, putting Wynter in her place.

He's right, she thought bitterly and swallowed the last of her tea. She was Fletcher Larkin's wife now … not her father's pampered pet.

“What do you think they'll do to us?” Mary's voice was choked with tears.

“Well, whatever it is,” Old Davey muttered philosophically, “I ain't going to ponder over it. So far, we're all fine, and I heard that Dirk fellow tell one of the crew to prepare us a place below. Can't be any worse than aboard the
Mary Jack.
I just hope there ain't no rats in the hole.”

Wynter hoped that, too. Most of all she wanted a dry place to sleep, not the damp bowels of another ship. She surveyed her surroundings on the upper deck. The crew worked diligently, and she'd have never known they were pirates. They appeared to be hard-working men, much like the members of the
Mary Jack,
but one thing she knew about the
Sea Bride
—it was much larger and heavier, a perfect ship for a wayward sea captain.