Rescued by the Buccaneer (16 page)

If that was his thought process, he was sorely mistaken. She would not go without a fight. America no longer held the appeal for her it once had. What she wanted was a life with Gaston, sailing the high seas, taking on whatever challenges life threw in their path.

Yes, she may have been a virgin, and she was new to some of the ways of the world, but she was a quick study. She wanted him to lead her, take her under his wing. She had felt herself flourishing under his protection and his tutelage these last few days, and she wanted it to continue.

No, Frederica Beauchamp would not go quietly. When she wanted something, she didn’t let anything stand in her way. And she wanted Gaston Galette.

* * *

That evening, Gaston knocked on her door at seven o’ clock.

Frederica was ready. He was all she’d been able to think about since last she saw him.

He greeted her warmly, with a kiss on the lips. “I thought you might be growing tired of Mrs. Campbell’s cuisine, so I made plans to take you to Mango’s, a well-regarded local dining establishment. I’m told they have a rack of lamb that melts off the bone.”

“That sounds divine.” She was dying to talk with him about the arrangements he’d made for her to sail to America. She wanted to rip into him and plead her case, to tell him what a horrible idea it was, but her good sense told her to wait until they had eaten. If she did have to leave, she wanted to enjoy what little time she had with him.

Mango’s Restaurant was a step up from the Boar’s Breath Inn. With only a few tables, it boasted an intimate atmosphere. She thought it was a good sign he’d taken her to a place that could be considered romantic.

They drank wine and made small talk. She asked him how the ship was coming along, and he asked her how she liked her accommodations. Between courses, she reached across the table for his hand. He did not pull away but instead stroked her palm with his finger.

The server, a tall thin man with an upturned nose, delivered their desserts, a scrumptious pudding made with fresh ripe berries. Frederica savored the first bite. It had been a long time since she’d had the pleasure of tasting something so sweet.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Gaston asked.

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

When she’d taken her last bite, Frederica could hold her feelings inside no longer. She leaned towards him and said, “Gaston, there’s something I must talk with you about.”

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Yes?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“While I think it was admirable for you to arrange my passage to America, and I am grateful… I have no intention of going.”

His eyes rounded and he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “What do you mean you’re not going? Of course you are. Your plan was to go to America, and that’s what’s best.”

“No, I’m not.” she replied smugly.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he sputtered.

“Just that. I’ve lost interest in sailing to America.”

He glared at her, his brow furrowing more and more by the second.

She gave a delicate little shrug and said in a mocking tone, “And you can’t make me.”

“But, but… what will you do? Where will you stay?” He looked as if he might explode.

She tried to look unconcerned. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Mrs. Campbell needs help at the inn. She did mention she was shorthanded.” She twirled a lock of hair round her index finger. “I have yet to determine the details. I just know I don’t want to go to America.”

Pushing his chair back, he abruptly stood. “You, my dear, are a most infuriating woman!”

She shrugged again. “I don’t see why,” she said, trying to look innocent.

“Arghhh!” He threw his napkin onto the table, turned on his heel, and left. On his way out, she saw him hand a small bag of coins to their server.

In his absence she sipped her wine and contemplated his reaction. While it had not gone well, it certainly could have gone worse. She felt badly for upsetting him, but she had to stand up for herself and fight for what she wanted.

Maybe now he would get used to the idea that she was in his life to stay. She popped a berry into her mouth and smiled a deep, self-satisfied smile.

Chapter Seventeen

The following day Frederica stood before the wash basin in her room, splashing her face with water. She pinched her cheeks, knowing she looked prettier with a little color to her cheeks, and she intended to have every advantage when she saw Gaston later.

After she was satisfied with her appearance, she walked down to the water. It was a gorgeous day, and the sea breeze offered a pleasant respite from the sun’s already burning rays. The seagulls chirped their contented little songs, and waves crashed onto the beach with a luxurious rhythm that mimicked the languid pace of island life, the kind of life she had begun to think she could grow accustomed to. Hopefully that would come after she convinced Gaston to take her with him. Dismissing his rejection of her, she had devised a plan to confront him and plead her case yet again.

The first thing she needed to do was to determine the whereabouts of the
Ocean’s Knave
. She passed by some of the more unsavory characters along the shore and approached a thin, grey-haired man in a striped shirt, hunched over his small boat, surveying his supplies.

“Hello.” Frederica waved as she approached the man.

He looked up at her, then glanced over his shoulder to be certain she was speaking to him.

“I’m sorry to detain you, but I’m looking for the
Ocean’s Knave
. It’s a rather large ship being repaired somewhere in the area. You wouldn’t have heard about it, would you?”

“Aye, in the cove just ‘round the bend,” he said pointing to the north.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you might take me there?” she asked.

“What would a lady like you be wantin’ with that bunch of scallywags?”

She smiled as prettily as she knew how. “I have some unfinished business with the ship’s captain, and I understand he’s with the ship, overseeing repairs.”

“Aye, that’s probably true.” The man looked at his boat, then back at her.

“It shouldn’t take long, and if we find him, you are welcome to go about your business,” she pleaded.

He sighed. “Guess the fish can wait a bit.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you ever so much.”

The man pushed the boat into the water, and Frederica took off her shoes and lifted her skirts before wading into the water and climbing aboard. He held the small vessel still for her, then made his way into the boat and began rowing. Once he got a good pace going, he whistled a sad ballad while his arms forced the oars through the clear, turquoise water.

Frederica leaned back and let the sun warm her face. Occasionally a spray of salty mist tickled her nose and she had to keep herself from giggling. She luxuriated in the balmy air and enjoyed the light rocking of being at sea again. After her travails in the water with Gaston, she was surprised how much she had missed being aloft in the ocean.

As they traveled north, the shoreline changed from yards and yards of sandy beach to deep, wild foliage that came to the edge of the water. Frederica noticed several kinds of trees she’d never seen before. Normally she would have asked about them, but this morning she was too focused on the meeting she hoped to have with Gaston.

It wasn’t long before they rounded a bend, and again there was a sandy beach punctuated by a ship that appeared to have run aground. As they drew closer and the ship’s figurehead came into view, she caught her breath. The
Ocean’s Knave
loomed larger than she’d anticipated, but it was the ship’s grandeur she had greatly underestimated. The figurehead had obviously been carved by an artist of significant talent, for its detailed woodworking was exquisite. A wooden Pegasus’ body straddled the head of the ship. His wings stretched wide, capturing the image of the mythical horse mid-flight. The effect was that the ship appeared as if it were flying into the heavens. One of his wings looked to be damaged, but he was magnificent nonetheless.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” the man asked.

She nodded in agreement. “Like no ship I’ve ever seen. Has she run aground?”

“Looks like they beached her. Best way to work on ‘er, seein’ as ‘ow there’s no dry dock. She’ll be easy enough to sail once high tide comes in.”

He rowed the small boat towards the beach. When she saw there were close to a hundred men working on the
Ocean’s Knave
, she gulped. When she had played this scene out in her mind before, there had been fewer people around to overhear the conversation she hoped to have with Gaston. Fortunately, the men seemed intent on their work and not interested in the lady wading onto the shore.

Rattled, she took a deep breath and bolstered her courage. She had to find Gaston and talk with him. If she didn’t convince him now, she would lose him forever, and that scared her more than potentially embarrassing herself in front of his men.

“You want I should wait, miss? I’m not so comfortable leavin’ ya here…”

“That would be lovely. I’ll wave to you if I find Monsieur Galette and then you’ll be free to go.”

He tipped his cap to her and set a hook in the water. Clearly he knew what it was to wait for a woman. Timidly and with shoes in hand, she waded through the sea foam onto the hot sand and headed straight for the ship.

Several men were milling around on the deck, and she tried to capture their attention. “Yoo-hoo!” she called. She said it loud enough to be heard by several members of the crew, but only one stopped what he was doing to pay her any mind.

He had a navy kerchief tied round his head and he proceeded to look her over, a lecherous gleam in his eye. “What you be wantin’ lass?” he asked.

Drawing herself up to her full five foot six inches, she straightened her spine and said primly, “I am looking for Captain Galette.”

“‘E’s in the tents.”

“Would you mind fetching him for me, please?”

He laughed. “Fetch him yourself. I’s got work to do.” He pointed at a white tent, its sides flapping in the wind.

She scowled. “Fine, I will,” she said, her voice taking on an imperious tone.

The man chuckled again as though her request was hilarious.

She waved the man in the boat along and he waved back before pulling in his fishing line. She put her new shoes back on, trudging through the dunes, sand crunching under her toes with each step. When she reached the tent, she asked herself how one knocked when approaching a tent, but before she could decide, the flap came open and she found herself face to face with Gaston.

“What in the devil are
you
doing here?” he asked, red-faced.

She offered him her most winning smile. “Why, I was looking for you.”

He took her by the arm and pulled her back into the tent. “Yes, but why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t finished with our conversation last night.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

“Oh, you weren’t?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“What is it you want to discuss?” he asked impatiently. The brow above his good eye twitched, and she was secretly pleased to be the cause of such consternation.

“I want to be with you,” she said simply.

“My dear, you know that cannot happen. A pirate ship is no place for a woman.” He uttered a wry laugh. “It would never work, Frederica, be reasonable. The crew cannot bear a distraction such as yourself. There’d be fighting over you from dawn ‘til dusk. Either that, or they’d overthrow me to get to you. Men are beasts, surely you are aware of this by now.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

He flew at her, hissing into her ear. “I should turn you over my knee right now for this insolent behavior.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Promises, promises,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He snatched her up by the arm and hauled her over a table inside the tent. “Bend over.”

“You must be joking.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Fine,” she said bravely, desperate to show him she wanted to please him above all else. She draped herself over the top of the table, giving him access to her bottom.

He pulled up her skirts, exposing her bare bottom, then growled in her ear, “I will not have you arriving here, unannounced, at my work site.” He gave her a hard thwack on the behind that got her attention.

“How else was I supposed to find you?” she asked.

“When I want to talk to you, I will find you,” he responded with a swat to her posterior.

“That’s not fair!” she protested, banging her fists on the table.

“A fair is a place where you go to sell your prized sow. The world is not fair, Frederica. Surely you’ve learned that by now.”

He smacked her again on her bottom, and she could feel the temperature of her skin back there climbing. Frederica was just about to apologize for her impudence when they were interrupted by the sound of men’s voices hollering.

* * *

A member of the crew threw back the curtain of the tent and cried, “Sorry, Cap’n. There’s been an accident.” Once he saw Frederica, the man covered his eyes. “Again, sorry to trouble ye,” he said to Gaston, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

Gaston flinched and let Frederica’s skirts fall back down, covering her behind. “No trouble, Davy. What is it?”

“It’s Bones. ‘E’s out cold. Tagbor dropped a hammer on ‘im.”

Without a word, Gaston bolted out of the tent and ran towards the crowd of men starting to form on the beach near the ship’s hull. When he arrived at the center of the commotion, he saw Bones, one of the midshipmen, laid out cold on the sand, a large gash on the top of his forehead.

Tagbor, a carpenter’s mate, skittered down the rope ladder alongside the ship and stood over Bones. By the looks of things, he’d dropped his hammer from aloft and it had hit Bones in the head. Tagbor threw his cap to the ground, swearing it had been an accident. He paced angrily back and forth, spewing curses, kicking up clouds of sand as he went.