Romancing the Pirate 01.5 - Beneath The Water's Edge (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

“By thunder, Kipp! What’s that infernal noise?” Blackthorn slammed his fist upon the table serving as his desk. He’d been weighing options with his quartermaster and best mate. Though the
Maraville
provisions would get them by for another couple weeks or so, the supplies weren’t enough. They had to decide whether to continue preying on the shipping lanes or chancing a friendly port to trade their newly acquired goods. But how could anyone make a decision with that consistent smacking against the outside wall?

“Sounds like the boys are scufflin’ over another bad game of bones,” Kipp said.

“We can’t have these distractions.” Blackthorn’s mood soured. He hated distractions. “I want to make a decision tonight.”

“Aye.” Kipp finished off his cup of rum and stood. “We’ll need to set a true course soon. I’ll go break it up.”

“Tell them they’ll lose their passage if I’m disturbed again.”

Kipp snorted. He knew Blackthorn would never carry out the threat and throw anyone overboard. At least not for such a minor infraction.

Blackthorn returned to adding the cargo items into his log book. The crates of fine fabrics from the merchant ship would fetch a hearty sum. Enough to stock up on provisions and let the lads drink until they saw a flock of moons. Assuming they risk dropping anchor. Even in friendly seaports there were those who would gladly collect the bounty on Blackthorn and his men. He chuckled to himself. And what a gracious bounty it was.

Blackthorn had no problem preying on unsuspecting vessels to keep his men and ship healthy. But he wasn’t blind. Men like him were kings for only a short while. Eventually, he would meet his death for his crimes. Until then, he intended to uphold his oath of allegiance to the brotherhood.

His door slammed open. Kipp shoved Rathbone through the threshold, pulling along the young runt by his sleeve.

“What’s this?” Blackthorn set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. This would be interesting. For Kipp to bring in these fellows whilst Blackthorn conducted his business, they’d had to have breached the articles they swore to.

“M’ ’pologies, Capt’n,” Rathbone said. He wisely kept his stare on the floor.

“Caught him takin’ liberties on the lad,” Kipp said.

Blackthorn crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh?”

Rathbone’s head shot up. “No. He’s mistaken.” His mouth hardly moved as he spat out the words.

Kipp slowly shook his head. “No mistakin’ where yer hands were, mate.”

Rathbone began to speak, but Blackthorn held up a stern hand. He slid his gaze to the boy. The lad refused to make eye contact with anyone, but his eyes darted nervously about the room and his arms were wrapped soundly around his waist. Odd, the boy acted more like a scared…poppet.

Curse it! Could it be? A lass on board his ship. How did this happen?

“What’s your name boy?” Blackthorn asked, trying to control the sudden anger threatening to explode.

“Elysen, sir.”

Blackthorn had to strain to hear the girl. “Well then, Elysen, what do you have to say?”

“’Tis a misunderstanding, is all, sir.”

“A misunderstanding. I see.” No truths would be spoken in the present company. Just as well. ’Twas best to contain the situation.

Blast it!
He flicked his quill on his desk, more than a little plagued by what this snake had done
.

“Rathbone. You are aware you have violated Article Nine of the code, are you not?”

The wretch’s jaw muscles worked feverishly. He’d been caught, and he knew what came next. He nodded once.

“Punishment for meddling with a boy,” he paused to look at Rathbone’s trifle, “or woman, is death.”

Elysen let a tiny gasp slip.

Kipp gawked at the girl, realization had struck. “Shit.” Blackthorn almost laughed at his friend. Almost. Everything had changed. The whole evening of planning had gone down the pissdale. They now had a very real problem.

“Now tell me again, your name, lass.”

“El—Elyssa. Elyssa Calhoun Montgomery.”

The lass watched as Blackthorn rose from his seat, but when her eyes collided with his, she quickly looked away. He moved in front of her, and he could swear she would melt from fear.

“You’ve got much to explain, lass.” The poor thing trembled.

“Kipp,” Blackthorn said. “Shackle Rathbone below.”

“But, Capt’n.”

“Not now, Rathbone. You can explain yourself to the men tomorrow.”

“Come on, ya bastard.” Rathbone struggled against Kipp’s grip on his arm, growling until Kipp poked a pistol into his side.

Blackthorn swiped the small cap off the lass and pulled away the scarf wrapped around her head, throwing them both to his desk. The short braid of hair fell into a long auburn plait down her back.

“What the devil were you thinking, boarding my ship as a lad? Do you have any idea what will become of you now? Do you know what harm awaits you? What terrible torture… Look at me when I address you.”

Eyes of brown, as rich in color as his finest rum, finally met his. Now that she gave him the full effect of her fair face, he found her a fetching little pigeon. Tears spilled down her bronzed cheeks. Aye, and she knew well enough her predicament.

“’Twasn’t my wish, sir.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’d have stayed on the
Maravilla
had your man Rathbone not threatened to give me away.”

“Did he?” That rotten bugger. ’Twas certain he had nasty plans for the lass. Probably aimed to toss her to the sea before anyone became wise to the girl. Blackthorn never did care for the bastard. Not since that incident involving a tavern wench back in Port Royal. He knew deep in his gut Rathbone had something to do with her death. Rathbone would get his due. Blackthorn would see to it.

“How is it you are disguised as a boy on a merchant vessel?”

“I had no choice. I couldn’t let Papa down.” Her voice hitched up, frantic as if she didn’t want to disappoint her father even now out in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. “Papa needed my help. I would be a good daughter. I didn’t want him to worry. He was always worrying.”

“You’re father made you do this?” He waved his hand over her attire.

“No.”

“Speak up, child.”

She rubbed her arm, hesitant to speak further. When she would say no more, he raised his brow for encouragement. “No. Dobie did. My husband.”

“Husband?”
Intriguing.

“I’d do anything for Papa.” The words began to pour out of her, as if she were confessing her sins instead of explaining herself. “Even marrying a banker’s wayward son to satisfy his debts. The merger allowed Papa to keep his shipping business. He won’t have to wonder any longer whether he can feed my younger sisters. Lord Montgomery was ever so generous.”

The name suddenly became familiar. “Lord Samuel Montgomery?”

She nodded

“
The
Lord Samuel Montgomery?”

She nodded once more.

Daughter-in-law to the very wealthy Lord Samuel Montgomery? Here on his ship? Sounds of gold coins clamored in his ears. What price would she fetch for her safe return? This certainly made his evening more complicated. Blackthorn’s temples throbbed from the makings of a royal headache. And still the lass had yet to tell him everything. “This doesn’t explain why you are masking as a boy.”

She wrung her hands, in and over, over and in, shifting her weight from foot to foot, unable to stand still. Fidgety little chit.

“Dobie wanted to open his own exchange in the West Indies. But Lord Montgomery wouldn’t finance his trip, not one penny. He insisted Dobie was too irresponsible and careless.” Blackthorn would agree, careless with his woman. What kind of fool dresses up his wife and drags her along across an ocean, putting her virtue and life in danger?

“’Twas one reason he thought I’d be a good match for his son as a sensible wife. Angry, Dobie decided he didn’t need his father’s help. He’d make his own way, and once in San Juan, he’d get by on his name. I begged him to take me with him. I couldn’t let Lord Montgomery renege on his settlement with Papa. I just couldn’t.”

“And your husband agreed?”

“Well, no. I promised to find work in bookkeeping, or as a serving girl in a tavern, anything. I’d give him anything to help build his wealth. I’d do whatever it took, just so he’d bring me.”

Blackthorn admired the love and loyalty she had for her family, risking her life for those closest to her. Not unlike that of the brethren. Yet, he didn’t feel her husband had her best interest in mind, only his.

“And so he signed you up as a seaman on a Spanish bucket.” He couldn’t hide his disgust if he wanted to. “How did you keep your secret? Surely you’ve had your monthly courses?” Perhaps he should have been more delicate in asking such a personal question. But he never was much for dancing around proper etiquette when he wanted answers. Besides, he found the reddening in her cheeks curiously alluring.

“I, um, I haven’t had my, um, courses. Dobie thought if I worked as hard as a man, drank as hard as a man, and want to really be a man, my body would follow suit.”

’Twas more likely because she was half starved. What a skinny thing. A woman should have more meat on those curves. That’s the way Blackthorn liked them. Maybe he should have Hobbs whip her up some lobscouse.

“Dobie said I’d need to pretend to fall ill should, um, it happen.”

Dobie. Dobie. Ugh, Blackthorn didn’t much care for this lackey. Immature, selfish, neglectful, swab. “Where is Dobie now?” Because Blackthorn would like to have a word with this lout.

She averted her gaze to the farthest corner of his cabin. “He’s dead. Fell from the yardarm, broke his neck.”

Blackthorn drew a long breath. “I see.”

He had enough problems. Now he had a potentially profitable widow on board. What was he going to do with her? Where would he keep her? ’Twas bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, or so the tales go. Despite the claims otherwise, most of the
Sanctum
men would never hurt a woman. Still, they were a superstitious lot and he couldn’t let her loose on his ship and risk something happening to her. Especially once the men passed their judgment on Rathbone. Nay, this did not bode well for Blackthorn. He had little choices, and Blackthorn hated that.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Blackthorn tried not to smirk, but he did anyhow. The reputation of a pirate afforded him many advantages. He’d be telling false truths if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing her squirm. He circled around her, only a hair’s breadth from touching her.

“Nay, lass. I’m not going to kill you. But I haven’t decided what I shall do with you, either.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “Though a few savory ideas come to mind.”

He rounded back in front of her and peered down. Her tunic hung close to her body. The urge to see if she wore bindings to help her look more like a boy was too strong. He hooked a finger into the collar. She squeezed her eyes shut. The poor lass. He shouldn’t toy with her so. She trembled something awful. Never mind that. The cur that he was, he wanted to see what wares she hid. And he wasn’t disappointed. Even with the binds tight, her breasts brimmed over the top. How uncomfortable she must be. The rapid rise and fall of her chest reminded him of a petrified rabbit trying desperately not to be seen by a passing fox. Oh, but this fox saw her. And he was beginning to think she might be a tasty morsel.

“Please, Captain Blackthorn.” The lass opened her eyes. “Please, have mercy. I’d rather you just kill me than lay a hand on me.”