The Pirate Takes A Bride (5 page)

The pirate crew.

She shivered as someone hoisted a ghostly white sail through the wispy fog. The white canvas swayed and flickered in the dying moonlight.

And then the clouds passed again, and the ship was gone, swallowed by the black sea.

But Ashley knew it was still out there. She could sense it now: a living thing that pulled at her with the dual promises of adventure and ruin.

The men reached the water and thrust the small boat into it with a splash. They began to strategize, discussing how best to load their belongings and how many trips to make.

She turned and peered behind her. Open beach. If she ran now, she could probably get away. The men might not even notice that she was gone until it was too late. If they chased her, she could hide in the shadows, perhaps find a small cave. In the morning, she could walk back toward Gretna Green and send word to her father when she passed through a village. Perhaps she could find Maddie and Nick’s brother. Or Lord Castleigh, Maddie’s father. He had chased them to Gretna.

Ashley had no illusions about this course of action. If she returned to London now, her life would be in shambles.

But she was no coward. She could piece together shambles. She could repair shambles.

But if she set foot on that pirate ship, she knew without a doubt that her life would be irrevocably changed. She’d always longed for adventure, but had she ever considered the price? One didn’t go pirating on the open sea and then return to the lofty drawing rooms of the
ton
to gossip and sip tea.

She glanced at Nick. Or did one?

Lord Nicholas Martingale had certainly made his double life work, but Ashley was no good at deception. Ashley Brittany didn’t lie. She might
omit
, but she didn’t dissemble.

And she didn’t run.

Especially not from the most exciting adventure of her life or the chance to repay the man who had scorned her.

As though sensing her thoughts were on him, Nick turned and extended his hand. “My ship awaits. Are you ready?”

“That, Captain Robin Hood, is a question you should ask yourself.” She smiled and, forgoing his offer of assistance, waded through the water to the bobbing rowboat.

As soon as Nick climbed the first rung of the Jacob’s Ladder, he forgot all about Ashley Brittany—er, Martingale—Gretna Green, and the events of the past week or so. As always, when he stepped foot on his ship, a sense of calm and purpose filled him. When he was on land, in London, he might question his mission and his choices. But there were no questions aboard the
Robin Hood
. Nick was meant to lead this crew. He was meant to captain this vessel. And he was meant to destroy the pirate Yussef.

Yussef. Thinking of his enemy caused a wave of fury to crash through Nick. He grasped the ship’s railing, waiting for the anger to pass.

Don’t think about the isle
, he cautioned himself.
Don’t think about her
.

He needed all of his wits about him if he were to make the passage to Isla de las Riquezas quickly and successfully. He had no time to waste, no time for mistakes, no time for grief.

“Cap’n, sir?”

Nick turned to see his quartermaster approaching. Nick straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, Mr. Chante.”

“The crew is making the final preparations for departure, sir. The tide should turn within the hour.”

“Very good, Mr. Chante.” Nick strolled across the deck, and Chante followed. “Has Mr. Carey sealed the cargo hatches and taken care of all repairs?”

“Aye, sir.”

Nick nodded to his crew as he passed them. They were hard at work checking for rigging stress, hoisting the remaining sails, and swabbing the already gleaming decks. “And has Red seen to the food and water provisions?”

“Aye, sir.”

Nick threaded his way past more men and approached the helm. His second mate was at the helm, and when he looked questioningly at Nick, Nick gave him the sign to remain at his post.

“What course, sir?” Chante asked, though Nick and all aboard knew full well what course the
Robin Hood
would be setting. But Nick appreciated the formality, the structure, the order of life on a ship.

“Set sail for Isla de las Riquezas, Mr. Chante. Depart as soon as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” Chante said.

Nick spent the next several hours issuing orders to his crew, approving the setting of the watch and the deck chores, and staring at the open sea, now deep blue in the late morning light. The winds were brisk, and the sails snapped as the ship made close to six knots. But Nick gripped the rail and mentally urged her on faster.

Isla de las Riquezas was a good ten days’ sail in good weather, and Nick was impatient to arrive. He was even more impatient to find and punish Yussef. Nick scanned the ocean once again.

The Barbary pirate was out there somewhere. Running? Hiding? Laughing?

Laugh now
, Nick thought.
Because before long, you’ll be mine
.

“Cap’n, sir?”

Nick turned from the railing and his view of the open ocean to face the short third mate. Mr. Fellowes doffed his cap.

“What is it, Mr. Fellowes?”

“I’m sorry what to bother you wit’ this.”

Nick waved a hand, indicating it was no bother at all.

“But you put me in charge of the missy, sir, and I’m having a bit o’ a time wit’ her.”

Nick frowned. “Missy?”

Fellowes nodded. “Yes, sir. And I’m having a bit o’ a time wit’ her. She don’t want to stay in your cabin, and I don’t know wot else to do wit’ her. Seems like you should do an introduction o’ sorts afore we let her loose on deck. Let the men know to keep hands off. But that’s just me opinion. Begging your pardon, sir.”

Nick took a deep breath. He’d actually forgotten about Ashley Brittany for a time. A fact she’d probably sensed and was wasting no time rectifying. And yet he wasn’t quite ready to deal with her. He had work to do—work he could not accomplish in his cabin with her ranting at him. And yet, with her running free, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate either.

“Leave her where she is for now, Mr. Fellowes.”

“But, Cap’n, she—”

Nick held up a hand. “I know how she can be. Handle her, Mr. Fellowes. And while you’re at it, bring me my maps and my logbooks. Let Mr. Chante know that I want a meeting with all the officers on the quarterdeck just after eight bells of the morning watch.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Fellowes turned slowly, and Nick recognized the look on the man’s face: sheer determination.

No doubt, Nick would have the same look when he faced Ashley later.

L
ater finally bore down on him. When Nick heard the first bell of the mid watch and realized it was after midnight, he glanced at his men. The same weariness he felt was reflected on their faces.

“Get some sleep,” he ordered those not on watch. “You have your orders.”

Fully intending to take his own advice, Nick stumbled numbly to his cabin. He reached for the handle and turned it. Nothing happened.

Nick frowned in the darkness. Why was his cabin locked?

Through the weight of fatigue, the answer dawned on him.

Ashley was in there.

Hell’s teeth.

Nick prayed she’d already fallen asleep. He wanted nothing more than a few hours of peaceful rest himself. He fished in his pocket for the key, opened the door, and stepped inside. It was dark and quiet. Thank God—

The door swung shut behind him, and he heard a whoosh. A bolt of lightning crashed through his skull as something hit him hard on the back of the head.

He stumbled forward, catching himself with one hand on his desk. “What the—”

But Ashley already had the door open, and in the dim light outside, he could see her running.

“Bloody hell.” What did she plan to do? Jump overboard?

Nick took three large strides and caught her about the waist. He tried very hard not to notice how good she felt in his arms. He tried not to imagine throttling her.

“Let go!”

He covered her mouth, hoping she hadn’t already awakened the rest of the crew, and hauled her back inside the cabin. He held her tightly until he managed to light the lantern.

Her skin was impossibly soft under his hand. He’d forgotten about that—how that porcelain skin that looked so coldly perfect could actually be so warm and sensual.

It wasn’t a realization he wanted at the moment, and he pulled his hands away, releasing her.

Immediately, she screamed and started for the door.

With a growl, Nick pushed her out of the way, fished his key back out, and locked the door. No fool, Nick tucked the key inside the waist of his trousers.

“No!”

He rounded on her. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not going to hurt you.”

She pushed away from him until she was flush against his desk. “What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with you, sir? How dare you leave me locked in here all day? I am not a prisoner.”

Nick shook his head. “Nor are you a sailor. The first day at sea is taxing for all aboard. I didn’t have a man to spare to be your nanny.”

“Nanny! I don’t need—”

Nick closed his eyes. “It’s late, and I’m tired. I haven’t slept in two days. Whine all you want tomorrow, but tonight I want peace and quiet.”

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You want peace and quiet? Go to your own cabin.”

Nick looked around the familiar captain’s cabin with its polished brass and scant mahogany furnishings—bed, table, desk, and chair. The light from the lantern flickered weakly in one corner. “This
is
my cabin.”

“Not anymore. I sincerely hope you didn’t think I was going to share it with you.”

“Sleep here or in the crew’s quarters. At this point, I don’t care.”

“I do. Get out.”

She tossed her wheat-blond hair over one shoulder, and Nick had the urge to grasp that hair, haul her into his arms, and rid her of some of that impertinence. He could do it, too. He’d tamed her before.

Instead, Nick crossed his arms. Perhaps she needed a reminder of her new station in life—of exactly whom she was talking to and what his rights were. “You are my wife. I have every right—nay, I have a Christian obligation to share that bed with you.”

Ashley’s features hardened. “Well, sir, I hope you take your faith seriously because if you attempt to share that bed with me, you will meet your Maker tonight.”

“Funny. I seem to remember a time you couldn’t wait to share a bed with me.”

“I must’ve been hit on the head.”

Nick shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Nice.” She gave his a forced smile. “That ploy might work if I didn’t know you so well. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

He reached past her and smelled strawberries. He grit his teeth and wondered how she always managed to smell of some soft, juicy fruit.

Nick lifted a coil of rigging line Mr. Fellowes must have left lying on the desk behind her. “I won’t hurt you, but at this point, I’ll do anything for a few hours of sleep.” He dangled the rope in front of her. “Give me your hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She took a step back but was out of room to retreat.

He grinned. “Then why are you trying to escape?”

“Nick, you can’t. You won’t. I know you won’t.”

“Sweetheart.” He unfurled the rope, letting it fall with a hiss and a thud. “I don’t think you know me as well as you think.”