Corsets & Crossbones (3 page)

Brooke could not help but roll her eyes.  Of course her father would send Liz, the woman Brooke could not stand. 

“I am almost ready, Liz,” Brooke forced herself to say in a rather cheery tone.  “And before you ask, no, I do not need any help.”  Brooke then stood up right and sauntered back over to Charlie.  “I think I just saved you,
Captain
Colt, from an untimely death,” she quipped.

“Which means, then, I owe you my life, sweetheart,” Charlie replied.  He stood next to her, and the pair continued to study the painting.

“I will hold you to it, you know,” Brooke said, looking up at him with a smirk.  “Do not sail too far away.”

“I don’t intend to,” Charlie replied, his voice low, turning to study the sharp profile of the young girl before him.  “And now what are we supposed to do with the time on our hands?”

“I thought you had to pillage my room looking for my father’s wealth?” she asked him skeptically, turning to meet his eyes.

“I do intend to pillage, my dear, but I have changed my mind on the wealth,” he quipped. 

“Oh?” Brooke asked, raising her brow in wonder.  “And what wealth will you now be pillaging?”

“It’s not a question of what,” Charlie said, bending down so his lips were right next to her ear, “but, rather, who.”

“Are you flirting with me, Captain Colt?” Brooke asked him, a skeptical glint in his eyes.

“Actually, my dear, yes I am,” Charlie replied, “and unless my eyes deceive me - which they sometimes do - I would say that you are flirting with me as well.”

“Well, I should like to keep in practice,” Brooke said, shrugging.  “Suitors do not usually flirt with me.”

“I am no suitor,” Charlie stated, motioning to himself.  “I am a mere gentleman having a conversation with a young woman.”  He smiled devilishly at her, two gold teeth twinkling.  Other than that, his teeth were surprisingly white and straight.

“Pretty words, Captain Colt, but I do not think words can mask your obvious ties to piracy,” Brooke said, walking over to him and looking at his plain clothing.  “Although, I am sure like everything, there is an exception.  It is possible that you could be a gentle man.”

Charlie raised his brow, a smile gliding upon his chiseled face.  “Actually, darling, I am anything but,” he said, causing her to blush.  She was quite confident with flirting, but never had a man been so blunt with a sexual innuendo.  Charlie leaned down towards her so that his lips were brushing her ear once again.  “And just so you know, sweetheart, my words are not the only pretty things in this room.”

“I am sure you are referring to yourself?” she teased as he pulled away and stood up right.

“No, actually, but I am glad you think me as so,” he answered, his eyes dancing with hers in amusement. 
“Although I would say that I am more ruggedly handsome than pretty.”

She let out a contagious giggle, and he could not help but deepen his smile.  Brooke covered her mouth with her hand, and stole a glance at the man before her.  He was a changed man compared to when she first met him.  His eyes seemed to now be glazed over with wisdom and his face seemed to have gotten more mature.  His body still looked the same, even after ten years she couldn’t help but be more attracted to him now than when she was younger, when she did not understand her attraction to an older man.  But now she could see that even though he was a pirate, someone so incredibly low on the caste system, while in turn, she was so high, she was drawn to him.  Whether it was his dark eyes, his breath-taking smile, or his low voice, she could not deny there was something dangerous about him.  Of course, she would never admit this aloud for he was correct in his terms of not being a suitor; he was simply a passing stranger who happened to remind her of how it felt to be flirted with by a handsome man.

Her smile dimmed, however.  Brooke knew she could not be up in her room much longer before her father came up to drag her downstairs.

“Well, I best be going,” she said to him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.  “My jewels are in the chest.”  She motioned to the foot of the bed where a lovely oak chest was.  “I ask that you leave the rubies and emeralds, though.  My grandmother gave them to me before she passed away, and they are worth more to me in sentiments than material value.  I should not like to part with them.”

Brooke turned then, and went over to her mirror to touch up her hair and her face.  Charlie watched her, wanting to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving, and going down the stairs.  Once she was done, she turned to him and forced a humble smile on her face.

“It was an honor to meet you, Captain Colt,” she said.  She waited for him to return her compliment, but he just stared at her without saying a word.  She turned, and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Captain Colt met the majority of his crew at the local downtown scrag, which happened to be quite welcoming of pirates, despite the island’s disapproval of such rogues.  The scrag was called
The Bloody Mistake
, a small building that was, while humble on the outside, usually crowded and rowdy on the inside.  Men of a respectable nature would never be caught dead at this place, and therefore, its customers usually came and left as they pleased, without a sliver of fear of getting caught.  For the more ambitious customers, there were offered rooms, whether someone wished to prolong their visitation or needed a few hours to sleep off their drink.  There was a third option if a customer should choose it: if they decided to dabble in the colorful pleasure many women advertised, they could rent a room as well, but whether or not they chose to stay the full night, they had to pay for it.  Unless, of course, the customer happened to be Captain Charlie Colt.

When Charlie was a captain with the East India Company, he would come to
The Bloody Mistake
for drinks and pleasure, despite his proper reputation.  He overlooked the fact that many pirates dwelled there in the first place, and even sympathized with them.  They were merely sailors walking a fine line between legality and illegality, with more freedom than Charlie could imagine at the time.  And now he was one of them, a pirate captain that was dangerously dancing on that thin line himself.  Because he did not turn in one pirate nor the owner of the bar for giving business to pirates, he received a charitable discount if he chose to use a room.  And the charming Captain Colt almost always did.

Currently, he was sitting at a secluded back table, with a bright woman on his lap and another woman rubbing his back.  His crew was all drinking, and they were surrounded by hopeful whores hoping to bed one of them that night.  They were still waiting upon the arrival of Heath and two other men who had accompanied Heath, acting as though they were his workers.

“What did you acquire, Capt’n?” a man asked, obviously drunk and wanting an excuse to speak of his exploits but not wanting to do so first.

“I ‘
appened to choose his daughter’s room,” he said after taking a long sip of rum.  The whore on his lap caressed his chest lightly, and the captain smiled a deviant smile.  “Although quite the obvious treasure there, nothing else was worth any actual value.”

“Says ye,” the man said with a wink, and then went into a long, slurred story about how he managed to get into a safe and steal jewels, money, and even some valuable paintings.

It was at the end of the man’s story that Heath and his two companions entered the scrag, an arrogant smile on the young man’s face.

“And how was your supper?” Charlie asked, ignoring the two whores and focusing solely on Heath.

“It was dull, to be honest, but the food was exquisite,” Heath replied as he took a seat across from Charlie.  His tone changed when he continued.  “Although when his daughter arrived, albeit quite tardy, the supper picked up.  She was a sight for sore eyes, especially compared to these strumpets, aye?”  He glanced darkly at a whore who was about to make her way over to him.

Charlie tilted his head to the side slightly.  A very odd feeling came over him, and he could not help but furrow his brow.  “Brooke Cunningham?” he asked, hoping his tone was not as sharp as it sounded.  “Surely she is not exactly how you describe her?”  Charlie had seen her though, and not even Heath’s words managed to do her justice.

“She is,” Heath said, his blue eyes shining devilishly.  “Witty too.  Never would have guessed, to be honest with you.  Her father invited me to a dinner tomorrow, but if I’m not mistaken, she was not too excited about it.  Her father is desperate to marry her, and promises that she is chaste.  I, however, only plan to rid her of her maidenhood.”  For some reason, Charlie could not help but feeling slightly angry at the young man; his coal-rimmed eyes narrowed at Heath, and his jaw was set.

“Surely some woman here can satisfy your desire?” Charlie asked him, motioning at the small web of women who had surrounded their table.  “They are quite practiced in their art and rarely- if never - leave a man unsatisfied.”

Heath wrinkled his nose in disgust and waved his hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair.  “Practiced is not what I am looking for,” he murmured.  “I can get that whenever I want.”

Charlie inhaled, pushing the whore off of his lap so that he could lean toward Heath.  The whore gave Charlie a dirty look, but he ignored her and continued to look at his first mate.  “Has the notion entered your head that perhaps you are more drawn to the claiming of a lady’s maidenhood than of our own Miss Cunningham?” he asked, a bit forceful than necessary.

“I s’ppose you are right,” Heath said, looking back at Charlie, “but since I see no maidens here, I am still left unsatisfied.”

“We are on a large island, Heath!” Charlie exclaimed.  “And you, son, are quite the charmer, and, if I do say so myself, relatively attractive.  Any woman, chaste or unchaste, would jump at the chance to saturate your thirst.”

“Is there a particular reason why you should not want me to claim Miss Cunningham?” Heath asked, arching a suspicious brow.

Charlie, however, plastered on an innocent smile on his face.  “No, of course not,” he said, looking at him and speaking with charm.  It seemed to work wonder on the women.  “I have seen Miss Cunningham with me own two eyes.  While she is admittedly somewhat attractive, what I hear you telling me is that you are looking for a maiden, correct?”  At Heath’s nod, he continued.  “Well, while Miss Cunningham is indeed chaste, her eyes, while they
sparkle innocence, are cascaded with mysteriousness.  Her lips are full, her freckles quite distinguished, and her bosom is much too full.”

“I rather like her full bosom,” Heath said, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

“As you should,” Charlie said, his eyes a shade darker than usual, “but while she
is
chaste, she does not
look
chaste, and when you are looking down at her, do you not want to look at chasteness?”  He let his question sink into Heath, and quickly added, “And… I figure we have already stolen a significant amount of wealth.  It would be rather greedy of you to steal his daughter as well?”

“I
s’ppose you’re right,” Heath repeated after a moment, standing up at that point.  “I’m off to get me a pint.  I need a drink.  I shall be back.”  He took his leave, a couple of men following him to the bar.

Once dinner was over, Brooke excused herself and headed up to her room.  Her father did not have a chance to scold her on her tardiness, nor did he lecture her on her uncharacteristically quiet demeanor.  Brooke was usually very charming, even to suitors she did not particularly find interesting or handsome.  Heath was unquestionably handsome, but not too interesting, and while he was very formidable, her mind was clouded by her chance encounter with the dashing Captain Charlie Colt.  The man baffled her more than anything, but he charmed her as well, and as she quickly yet gracefully walked up the stairs that led her to her room, a small piece of her hoped that maybe he was still in her room.

Brooke opened the door, but her instinct was right; no one was there except the soft howling of the wind coming from her open windows.  She rushed over to the bannister, hoping to catch a glimpse of his retreating figure, but again she was disappointed.  He had not even told her goodbye.

Brooke sighed, but left the window open in hopes that he might visit her again during the night.  She was about to change into her nightly attire when she remembered that she had divulged her hiding place to Captain Colt of where her jewels were.  She walked over to her oak chest and opened it, and then pulled out the small box from inside the chest where her jewels were kept.  When she opened it, she was surprised at the number of jewels that remained.  In fact, it seemed that not one piece of jewelry was missing except…

“Where is my heart?” she asked aloud to nobody in particular.  Her own heart began to race as she looked through her jewelry box again, thinking she might not have seen it, but upon looking through them a second time, she did not find it.  “He would not take it,” she tried to rationalize to herself, going through her jewelry once again.  “I specifically told him not to take the rubies and emeralds.  He would not take it!”  But her third search resulted in nothing being found.

“Blasted pirates!” she exclaimed softly to herself and stood up.  Her eyes began to glisten and her face turned red from frustration.  She tried to calm herself down by breathing slowly, but it came out shaky instead.

Out of all the rubies and emeralds, he took her favorite one.

Brooke’s frustration quickly turned to anger at Charlie Colt.  She had to get that necklace back.  She went over to her bedroom door and locked it so that no one could come in and find her missing.  Afterwards, she made her way over to her open window, and walked out onto the balcony and over to a thick, adjacent tree branch.  Without thinking, Brooke climbed off the ledge of the balcony and onto the branch, and within a few moments, she had climbed down the tree and, after she made sure there were no guards around, slipped silently off of her father’s property.  She did not stop until she reached the docks, and panted a bit, her cheeks pinched with the bitter cold.

“Now what do I do?” she asked herself.  She looked up at the full moon thoughtfully.  As she caught her breath, the cold began to overtake her, and she rubbed her arms with her hands to rid herself of her prickling goose bumps.

Brooke knew that if Captain Colt was still anywhere, he would be downtown.  Downtown was incredibly rowdy at night, and it was a place any pirate would go when he did not wish to go to bed.  She gulped as she started walking in the direction of her destination, slightly regretting her decision to be walking by herself at night.  Her legs were beginning to get sore and she knew she would catch a cold within the next couple of days.

By the time she reached downtown, she nearly collapsed.  People were littering the street, be it the homeless, the whores, and the drunks.  As she walked, she received stares and catcalls.  She stared at a man directly, who just smiled at her, making her feel all the more uncomfortable.  She wanted to ask someone where Charlie Colt was, but decided against it.  She stopped in front of a
scrag and went in against her better judgment.  If he was not here, then she would give up and return home.

The
scrag was crowded and noisy.  Whores were scattered everywhere like flies drawn to honey.  Men were sitting at tables drinking and laughing with each other.  A couple of men were playing instruments, giving the crowd a form of entertainment.  Brooke had never seen anything like it before, and was stunned into standing.

“Are ye lost, missy?” a low voice asked from behind her.

Brooke jumped, and then turned, meeting the eyes of a relatively tall man who was quite big as well.  He had a dark glimmer in his light eyes.  She stuttered a bit, intimidated by him and his stature, before finally managing to say, “I am looking for Captain Charlie Colt.”

He stepped toward her, blocking her whole body from view, and smiled at her.  A shiver slid down her back, and she gulped.  She never wanted to return home more than she did at that moment.

“Wha’ do ye want with ‘im?” he asked her, but before she could answer his question, he continued.  “He’s not here, but I would love to be of service ter ye.”  He took another step towards her.

“Actually, I think I shall return home now,” she said,
stumbling her words, wanting to leave the scrag as fast as she could.  “I thank you kindly for your offered assistance.”

Brooke turned to leave, but was stopped by the man, who grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him.  “Where’re ye
goin’?” he asked her in a teasing tone.  “Ye ‘aven’t even found Colt!”

“Actually,” a voice interjected, “there is no need to be finding someone who is already found.”

Brooke turned sharply, and then there was Charlie, his cutlass pointing at the man’s neck.  His coal-rimmed eyes were narrowed, the mischievous glint gone from his them.  For a moment, Brooke forgot her anger toward him, and felt herself get a tad intimidated.

“Release her,” Charlie commanded, his voice low, his eyes never wavering.

Brooke thought the man gripping her arm would not let go of her due to the fact that he was taller and much bigger than Charlie was.  Surprisingly, however, the man released her, casting a glare at Charlie before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Once Brooke could no longer see the man, she turned to face Charlie, who was looking at his fingernails with a slight grimace.  He shifted, flicking his wrist, and faced Brooke with an expectant look on his face.  “I believe thanks are in order,” he said, looking down at her.

“For stealing my necklace that I specifically stated not to take?!” Brooke asked, her hands balled into fists at her sides.  “It is your fault that I came down here by myself, I will most certainly catch a cold, and who knows what that man would have done to me if you had not shown up?!”  She rubbed her arm where the man had grabbed her to emphasize her point.