What a Pirate Desires Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Teaser chapter

  Revenge, born of the sea.

  “Father!” Samantha choked, and without hesitation stepped in to help him.

  “No, lass!” Joe wheezed.

  She clawed at Joe. She pushed, shoved, and scratched at him—anything to get to her father, anything to help. How could she witness her family being murdered and not do something—anything—to stop it?

  Unfortunately, she had no choice. Another pirate was charging toward them, a foul grin splitting his evil face. Joe grabbed her like a sack of sand. His wound seemed forgotten as he hoisted her up.

  “Hold yer breath,” he warned, then threw her overboard.

  She had time only to close her mouth before the Caribbean swallowed her whole.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  WHAT A PIRATE DESIRES

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / December 2008

  Copyright © 2008 by Michelle Beattie.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-440-65487-9

  BERKLEY® SENSATION

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  This book is dedicated to my friend, Fabiola Forcier. Her support of me over the years, through good decisions and bad ones, has never faltered. She’s there with encouragement when I’m defeated and congratulations when I’m successful. Thanks, Fab, for the gift of your friendship. I treasure it more than words can ever say.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  From the beginning this book was a joy to write, but I didn’t do it alone. To my wonderful critique group: Michele, Taryn, and Marilyn, who helped brainstorm with me when I hit a wall or needed clarity. You’re much more to me than critique partners; you’re dear friends.

  To my editor, Allison, for believing in my work and for loving the story as much as I do. Your phone call changed my life. I can’t thank you enough.

  Prologue

  Caribbean Sea

  1656

  “Miss Samantha, get up! Hurry! For God’s sake, hurry!”

  Her eyes shot open. The small cabin blurred as she struggled between sleep and wakefulness.

  “What? What’s the matter?” she asked, trying to focus on Joe’s frantic eyes.

  Joe, her father’s first mate and longtime friend, stood pale and petrified.

  She bolted upright. Alarm surged down her spine. “What is it, Joe?”

  The last cobwebs of sleep scattered when Joe wrenched her from her berth.

  “Pirates, lass!”

  She stumbled after him. “What?”

  He didn’t have time to answer. Cannon fire erupted in the cabin next to hers. The walls jolted, there was the deafening scream of wood splintering, the acrid smell of smoke. Samantha cried out.

  Joe took the steps to the main deck three at a time. She wasn’t as quick. Her pale peach nightgown tangled around her legs and wood scraped the bottoms of her bare feet. Keeping up with his frantic pace seemed impossible, though she had little choice. He gripped her arm with one hand and held a pistol in the other.

  He pushed the door open with a rap of his forearm.

  As the booming clamor crashed around Samantha, men scrambled to get into fighting position. Yelling and cursing came from every direction. Pistols fired; cannons belched deadly shots in a marching rhythm. Smoke from gunfire, cannons, and burning wood poured into Samantha’s throat. She covered her mouth and nose with her free hand to block some of it.

  The Destiny wailed when grab hooks from the pirate ship sank into her polished sides.

  Thick fingers of rain-threatening clouds clawed at the moon. The sea, as savage as the pirates intent on seizing the ship, bucked and spat. The Destiny, trapped between water and sky, fell prey to the pirates. Samantha knew everything would be lost this night.

  A sob bubbled out and her knees buckled. “Joe,” she whispered. Fear closed her throat and prevented anything more than a whimper from escaping.

  He yanked her back to her feet. “Stay with me, lass.”

  His eyes, big as the full moon, if not as bright, bored into hers.

  “Don’t ye move from me side, understand?”

  She was seventeen, not stupid. She nodded.

  He’d already turned his back, using it as a shield to protect her. Samantha peered around him. She had to find her family. She refused to go anywhere without them.

  With the grab hooks holding the ships side by side, pirates flooded aboard like an epidemic. But her father’s crew wasn’t going easily. Guns from both ships fired as fast as they could be reloaded. Samantha planted her feet far apart to keep steady on the pitching ship. Men yelled, cursed, and fought for their lives. Only a few of them were successful.

  Helplessly, she watched friends stumble and fall, their blood smearing the deck. In blind fear, some men jumped overboard. Others were thrown. The Destiny hadn’t a prayer; its crew was terribly outnu
mbered.

  Samantha’s gaze searched the deck. She had to find her father and mother. And Alicia. Tears stung Samantha’s eyes. Her sister was so young, barely twelve, with long blond ringlets, innocent eyes the color of a mountain stream, cheeks that dimpled when she laughed. Would she also be lost in this sea of blood?

  “No, not Alicia,” she fervently prayed.

  But her plea remained unanswered.

  Samantha finally caught sight of her father, glowing eerily in his white nightshirt, and dared to hope that she wouldn’t lose everything she cared about. A shot screamed by her ear. Joe grunted and stumbled. He staggered back and pushed her into the gunwale.

  Arched over the side, she stared into the black water, into the rowboat that tugged against the rope like a child wrenching to get free. Had it been only that afternoon that they’d left Port Royal? That evening when her mother had come to give her a kiss goodnight? Oh, God, her mother!

  Joe caught himself and stood, though she knew by his grunts that he’d been hit. He turned, and Samantha screamed. Nausea raced up her throat. She cared about all the crew, but Joe was like family. Sweat beaded his entire face, blood streamed from a wound in his chest, and the sickeningly sweet smell of it turned her stomach.

  Movement behind him caught Samantha’s eye. She yelled a warning. Joe spun and fired. A filthy pirate, dressed in motley, fell dead.

  The sight—oh, the terrible sight—scraped away at Samantha and left her empty. Friends butchered and slain, some whimpering as life oozed away, littered the deck. She’d never been so cold. Her heart ripped open, and everything that was vital to who she was and what mattered most tumbled out. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She sniffled loudly.

  Then she saw her father again. His face pale as his nightdress, he danced around a disgustingly amused wretch, his sword pointed steadily. It was a battle Samantha knew wouldn’t end until someone died.

  “Father,” she choked, and without thinking stepped to help him.

  “No, lass!” Joe wheezed. Despite his wound he held her fast.

  She clawed at Joe. She pushed, shoved, and scratched at him—anything to get to her father, anything to help. She couldn’t possibly stand by and do nothing. How could she witness her family being murdered and not do something—anything—to stop it? It didn’t matter if she died in the process. Anything would be better than to go on without them. There would be no life without her father standing behind her, teaching her everything about sailing and the sea. No meaning without her mother telling stories every night, some from books, some that came from her imagination. Without the warmth she’d known all her life—the comfort and love—there would be nothing. She would be nothing.

  Unfortunately, she had no choice. Another pirate was charging toward them, a foul grin splitting his evil face. Joe grabbed her like a sack of sand. His wound seemed forgotten as he hoisted her up.

  “Hold yer breath,” he warned, then threw her overboard.

  She had time only to close her mouth before the Caribbean swallowed her whole.

  One

  Five years later

  It went against every one of Samantha’s sensibilities to walk the narrow corridor of the prison. Simply being there had stolen the moisture from her mouth. She loathed having to do this. Upon reaching the only occupied cell, she nearly turned round and pretended she hadn’t come at all. Except she had. And, as she kept reminding herself, she had no other options.

  Still, it stung her pride just to have to look at him. He was leaning against a musty wall, arms tanned a golden brown and crossed belligerently over his chest. At first glance he didn’t look much different from most pirates. His soiled shirt gaped open nearly to his waist, revealing smudges of dirt and enough chains around his neck to anchor a small ship. A gold sash, with its tails hanging down to his right knee, hugged a lean waist. He wore black pants and boots, both of which had faded to gray.

  “Like what you see, luv?”

  His voice was rich and deep, and it snapped her gaze to his face. A chiseled face that demanded and received her full attention.

  Unlike most scalawags, he wore neither hat nor bandana. His hair was the color of a summer sun, and it hung unfettered to his shoulders. A thin mustache topped lips that curled in amusement. His left eye was covered by a shiny black patch. The other, green as the most brilliant emerald, stared unblinkingly.

  How she loathed his arrogance, wished she could leave him to rot in the small cell. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. She’d put her life at stake coming back to Port Royal. If she were recognized or followed, it would be fatal for her. Her only hope was eyeing her suspiciously from behind bars. No, she’d come here for a reason, and despite the nerves that danced in her belly, she had every intention of accomplishing her goal as quickly as possible.

  Sliding into her strumpet role, one of many she’d used to stay alive over the years, Samantha took a tendril of hair she’d deliberately left hanging over her right breast and twirled it between her fingers. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she laced her voice with syrup.

  “Captain Bradley?” she asked sweetly, although she knew the answer. She’d researched his piracy; it was not by chance that she found the notorious Luke Bradley here today.

  He looked about the puny prison cell, empty except for him.

  “You know, I think I saw him here yesterday”—he shrugged—“but he seems to have left.”

  “Aren’t you a funny one?” she giggled, and narrowly managed not to wince at the shrill sound. “Aren’t you due to hang tomorrow?”

  His mirthless eye narrowed, and his mustached lip curved. “Luke is facing the gallows. I’m just here for the food.”

  “Food?” She pretended to miss the jest.

  “Well”—his steady gaze roamed her body—“had I known the company would be this good, I might have found my way here sooner.”

  Her skin turned frigid under his gaze. She bit back the vile retort that sprang to mind. She had little enough time to get him out.

  “Oh.” She poked out her bottom lip. “I was supposed to help him escape.” She shrugged her shoulders. As she spun to leave, her skirt swept the dusty floor. She had taken only one step when she heard him move behind her. She held back a triumphant smile and turned. He’d moved to the bars and now stood barely a foot from her. Her eyes met his, and the victory she’d felt a moment ago dissipated. Her heart leapt to her throat. His nearness sucked the air from the dusty prison. Behind her mask of indifference, which she willed to stay in place, she forced her mind to remember what he was. Despite his surprising attractiveness, he was no different from the swine who had slaughtered her family.

  He had a straight nose and cheekbones that rode high and angled toward his full mouth. Though his legends were tall, he wasn’t much taller than she. She had only to tip her head a little to look him in the eye. His even stare met hers, and its intensity shook her. She’d have to be careful, very careful, that he didn’t guess the effect he had on her.

  “Tell me who’s looking for Luke Bradley, and I’ll think about talking.”

  She leaned suggestively against the bars. Anything to hurry him up. “Sam Steele.”

  He arched a pale brow and whistled softly. “Bleed’em-dry Steele? Why’s he looking for Luke? Has Luke been a bad boy?”

  Her patience was running thin. “I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me much.” Her forced smile nearly cracked her cheeks.

  A coy grin tugged at his lips. “I’d wager, under the right conditions, he’d tell you anything you’d ask.”

  She couldn’t help the heat that burned its way up her neck, nor the anger that followed close behind. Why, if the situation wasn’t dire, he’d be hanging from the bowsprit, with large chunks of meat tied to his boots to entice the sharks.

  “Who, me?” she purred.

  He moved without warning. His dirty hand flew through the bars and wrapped around her bare neck. “You’re a terrible actress, luv, and you’re no strumpet either, no matter how you�
��re dressed. Why don’t you tell me who you really are and what Sam Steele wants with me?”

  Talons of fear gripped her heart. He was a pirate, her mind screamed, capable of anything. She took a steadying breath to keep her emotions under control. Emotions could be costly, and she couldn’t afford to lose. Pushing aside her fear, she met his gaze.

  “What would Steele want with you? You said yourself you aren’t Luke Bradley.”

  He nodded. “Very good, luv. Now, back to Steele.”

  She seized his wrist. Her blood pounded in her fingers; she was certain he felt it. It wouldn’t do to give him any more power.

  “Let go of me,” she warned, dropping all pretenses. Her fingers dug into his skin. “Nobody touches me without my permission.”

  He hesitated a moment. Just enough to let her know it wasn’t her demand that made him loosen his hold. She slapped his arm away and stepped back.

  How she wished she had the luxury of letting him hang in the morning. But she couldn’t discard him. Yet.

  “Sam needs you. All I know is that it has something to do with finding Dervish. He thinks, as you’ve sailed with the man, that you know where he is. He hasn’t had any luck finding him on his own. Now, we don’t have a great deal of time. Do you want your freedom or not?”

  He turned, finally seeming to notice the racket that carried through the thin bars of his window. In the street, grenades popped, entwined with the sounds of chaos. Babes screamed. Horse’s hooves stamped on the cobblestones. She waited, drumming her foot, while he took the time to examine the situation.

  “I see Steele’s thought of everything.”

  “Yes. You help Sam, and he gives you your freedom. Everybody wins. However, you’ve only ten seconds to decide. That diversion’s not going to last forever. Soon they’ll discover they aren’t really under attack. The guards are indisposed, but only for the moment. Another few minutes and they’ll be back from the privy.”