My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (26 page)

Why she listened to the little bugger she had no idea, but she would be damned if she’d wait any longer on Roberts to come see her. It was bloody rude.

“Jones, would you please ask Captain Roberts if he would see me now?” She’d thrown open the cabin door with such force, the lad winced.

He swallowed, but stood to do her bidding. “I’ll check again, ma’am. He’s just been a might busy steering us away from a storm, and keep us ahead of it.”

It was a good excuse as far as excuses go, but she was tired of waiting. Even standing in only the captain’s blouse—as Patchey had announced in an offended manner when he’d spied her in it—she just might walk up to the quarterdeck and find him herself.

“Good. I’ll wait here, where I’ve been for days.” A string of curses fell from her lips as she slammed the door on Jones’ retreating back.

Pacing and muttering beneath her breath kept her blood pumping, and she rejoiced in the fact her blood still pumped. The more she was left to brood over her predicament, the crankier she became. It was a hard decision one had to make when one had to leave her children behind . . . and the man she loved with all her heart. But, her past would not allow her to live a peaceful life. Protecting them meant everything to her.

The door clicked open.

“You better tell me Captain Roberts is finally going to speak with me, Jones. Otherwise, I might take your sword from you and demand he see me, at sword point.”

Anne pivoted on one leg of her pacing circuit to see said captain—a handsome, tall, dashing, and very dangerous, Welsh pirate—flashing a wide, white-toothed grin.

“Even wounded you’re as bloody violent as a cornered hellcat.”

Chapter 29

Had her heart not already been filled with Addison, Bartholomew Roberts might have made her knees weak at one time. Devilishly handsome, he was a pirate feared upon the seas, and welcomed by the ladies. Thick, lustrous black locks were clubbed behind his neck with a bright pink ribbon today, and his usually merry dark gaze and seductive smile were firmly in place. A sculpted nose, chiseled jaw, and cheekbones made more appealing strictly from the grin he gave her.

A hellcat. Yes, she’d resembled that particular animal previously in the enigmatic captain’s presence.

Anne narrowed her eyes. “That damn Patchey confined me in this cabin for three days. You probably put him up to it just to spark my temper.”

The door remained open and she spied Jones’ wide eyes behind his captain. Presumably, no one ever spoke to the dreaded pirate, Bartholomew Roberts, in that manner.

“If I recall, Annie, you have quite a short fuse. I daresay I’d not need do much to spark it.”

His nickname for her always rankled her nerves, and damned if he didn’t use that against her.

“Three days, Bartholomew.” Her eyes shifted back to Roberts as his gaze swept her from the top of her head to her bare calves and feet. A slow flush crept into her cheeks at his perusal.

“I do believe I’m wearing that exact shirt, my dear. I must say, you place a more feminine spin upon it.”

She raised her chin, noticing with some amusement that he was indeed wearing the same buff-colored blouse. “You wear it much better than I. There were no breeches in the chests. I had to make do with your lovely blouse.”

Although, he looked far more attractive with the top untied so that curls of dark hair peeked at her from the V at the neckline. The rest of it clung to his wide, muscular shoulders, and the sleeves billowed out. He had the good luck to be wearing a pair of breeches that hugged the muscles upon his long legs, and tucked into high boots.

She’d been unable to locate any trousers of any sort in the trunks. They were full of men’s shirts and nothing else. Her arm and shoulder were feeling much better, but still twinged a bit if she moved too quickly. Changing into appropriate clothes had not been her highest priority, only resting and healing so she could get the bloody hell from the cabin.

Dark, fluffy eyebrows lifted upon his forehead, three distinct rows of wrinkles resting there in his surprise. His grin reappeared, and an appreciative gleam entered his dark eyes. “While it does not fit you, in the traditional sense, I assure you, it fits you in a different, more delectable manner.”

Feeling every bit as naked as she was under the shirt, she resisted the urge to cover her breasts or grab the sheet about her. Instead, she put her hands on her hips, giving the captain an irritated look. “Do not make me skewer you with a sword, Bartholomew, for such offhanded sentiments. Now, tell me everything. What happened to Dobison and his ship?” Walking with her head held high, she sat at one of the chairs beside the table near the large windows of the cabin. Sitting down made her feel less naked. “And, where do we sail?”

His gaze rolled toward the ceiling. “Jesu, woman, you ask too many questions.” He sighed, coming to stand before her at the table. “I suppose I have time to regale you with the gory details.”

“Excellent. You can start with Dobison. What became of him? I do hope you sent him to feed the sharks.”

“You always were a bloodthirsty gal, Annie.” He chuckled, resting his hands upon the chair before him.

“He deserved it. Tell me.”

He nodded. “Aye. He’d tried to rape you, but I was able to make his neck smile, so to speak, before he was able to do so. You passed out.”

She swallowed the rise of bile in her throat at the mention of Dobison’s touch on her body. After the extreme pleasure of Addison’s touch, Dobison made her want to vomit. “A neck smile. I like the sound of that. You slit his throat. I can’t say that I am unhappy about that.”

“As I thought you might. We carried you here straight away. You were bleeding heavily, barely breathing. We thought we might lose you. The fever . . .” His eyes traced her features, an unspoken question behind his gaze.

“What?”

He straightened. “Who has been here to visit you, Annie?”

“Why do you ask?” Intrigue sparked, but her energy for sparring was thin. “Patchey, that bossy man who confined me here, has been ordering me about for days. And, Jones there,” She motioned behind him, to where Jones stood in the corridor. “Jones, to his credit, has been very helpful.” She eyed Bartholomew. “Why? Where are we going? You’re not continuing on to Port Royal . . .?”

The insinuation floated in the air like a wicked curse. Would her one-time friend in crime return her for a reward?

He seemed surprised by the question, a thunderous expression on his face. “You think I’d send you to prison?”

“Why not? I’ve a reward for my head. You’re a pirate for God’s sake, Bartholomew. I have to say, I did hope you had rescued me so that I might not spend my days in that gaol.”

Tendrils of black hair escaped his ribbon as he shook his head. “Nay, I’d not allow one of my friends to rot if I could help it.”

Relieved, she knew in her heart it was a silly thought. “Truly, I did not think you would, but one can never be too sure in our business.”

“That is very true.” His fingers gripped the back of the chair before him. “We sail to Charles Town.”

Anne swallowed a surge of hope and anticipation. She could assure Holt, Garrett, and Freddie were safe. And, Addison . . . what
would
she say to him?

She nodded, suddenly grateful for Bartholomew’s appearance just at the right moment. “I must thank you for saving my life, my friend.”

“About that—” There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“
Blackbeard’s ghost
, what is it?” His face transformed into something other than the typical, fearsome pirate. She waved that aside, for now. “First, you must explain how you came to overtake the
Swallow
.”

He cleared his throat, “I suppose that’s as good a place to start as any.” Pulling out the chair, he flipped it around and straddled the seat. “I had just returned from the West Indies, and needed to lie low for a turn. I heard Dobison sailed to Charles Town. Since he and Barnet were instrumental in murdering my crew and sinking one of my ships, I figured I could have a talk with him.”

The grim line of his mouth was that of the terrifying pirate she’d seen many times before. One did not get on the bad side of Black Bart.

“Yes, Dobison mentioned his being with Barnet. I’d given him a nasty cut on his arm the night Jack and I were captured.”

“That same evening, prior to your capture, Barnet had given the order to forge a bloody path through any pirate or members of a pirate crew.” A vein twitched in his jaw as he ground his teeth. “During my recent visit to Tortuga, it was mentioned Dobison was headed to Charles Town. Since I had been looking for other diversions, I decided to follow him there.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

A lopsided smile smoothed out his frown. “Yes. I overheard a conversation in the
Hound and the Hare
regarding a runaway lass with bright, red hair, and that she’d gone off and sailed away with a man named Dobison. He reached into his pocket and tossed the ANNE BONNY WANTED poster onto the table before her. “From this, I knew right away that you had not gone peaceably.”

She frowned at the blasted poster. The fear for her loved ones rose and she fought back tears. “You would have been correct. He had awaited me in our nursery, threatening to slice up my children.” Fury replaced the fear, and she pounded her fist upon the table. “If only I could have sliced his throat instead.”

Roberts hesitated, giving her a moment to calm down.

She sighed, pushing her tempestuous feelings away. “So, you decided to follow?”

“Once I figured out of whom they were speaking, and who you had sailed away with, I knew I must help you and avenge my crew. I took on a couple new passengers, and we followed straight away.”

She nodded, smiling gratefully, “Thank you for doing so.”

“Once we were finally able to catch the
Swallow
, we saw you fighting for your life, and . . . well, you know how you ended up.” He shrugged, and lifted a brow. “You’ve been healing quite well, I assume?” At her nod, he continued, “But, you’ve been well cared for, from the moment you hit that deck, and every day of your fever.”

“Yes, Patchey has been very helpful. I do appreciate the old bugger, although he really has been a bear about my healing regimen.”

“Well, yes, Patchey had originally cauterized and sealed your wound. You’ll have quite the battle scar to show for that bit of business.” His eyes met hers, and she could swear there was a hint of chagrin there. “But no, he hadn’t stayed by your side, day and night, watching you nearly die from blood loss and thrashing with fever. No, not Patchey, my dear. It was one of my passengers, you see . . . Blackhurst.”

The blood drained from her face. Joy threaded her veins, followed by terror.

”Is Addison on the ship, Bartholomew?” Another thought struck her, he
knew
. He knew she had been a rough, unmentionable, filthy pirate.

Roberts placed his hand on top of hers. “You do not wish to see him. I will keep him from you.”

“Does he know, Bartholomew? That . . . that I’m a pirate?” He’d never love her now, but it no longer mattered. She would have to leave everyone she loved behind. The Dobisons of the world would always find a way to find a wanted poster.

“I’m afraid so, Anne. I had to explain all to him.” He gave her a crooked smile. “He’s not so bad, that lord. He was searching for you in the tavern, and was one of the reasons I decided to help find you.”

She nodded, unable to stop the lump that formed in her throat. He must detest everything about her, now. She tried to tell him she was no lady, but now . . .

He knew.

Once again, she regretted the life she’d led up to this point. She’d allowed her son to be brought up in Cuba without the love of his mother. Her father had to have wondered if she lived or died while she had been gone. She’d stolen from ships and people. Not a worthy profession or character by any means. She had truly wanted to put that life behind her, once Raphael had led her away from her prison cell.

Addison must feel nothing but disgust for the pirate he had been about to marry.

The clearing of a throat snapped her to the present.

She sighed, giving in to the disgust she felt for her actions. “I suppose my attempts to remain a widow will not be needed. He’ll never marry me now.”

A wry smile curved her friend’s lips. “You were trying to remain a widow?”

“Aye. My father ordered me to marry Lord Blackhurst and be a respectable citizen or lose my son forever. So, I tried to force Addison to call off the wedding.” A rush of heat filled her limbs remembering her failed attempts and how they ended, with her crying out in ecstasy. “It hadn’t really been working, but finding out about my past should do the trick. I’ll be glad to be rid of him.”

A look of disbelief crossed his features, and he studied her intently as he leaned back from the chair. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

Clever. Bartholomew Roberts was not a successful pirate by appearing stupid. He reached his hand to rest upon hers again, giving it a squeeze. “It’s ok to love him, Annie.”

To her embarrassment, tears pricked her eyes, blurring his large form before her. She let out a breath, a small laugh escaping. “I’ve always been a terrible liar.”

Tenderness filled his dark eyes. “But, a good pirate. I’m happy that you survived, my dear. Now, I must return to the helm.” He stood and gave her a mock bow. “I shall send up the lads with a bath for you, and return for a visit on the morrow.”

She nodded through tears she allowed to flow from her eyes. “Thank you, Bartholomew. You are a true friend. Bartholomew?”

He turned before his exit. “Yes, Annie?”

“Is he here? Is he . . . unharmed?” She controlled the tremor creeping into her throat.

“He is as healthy as a horse.” He exited the cabin, without answering the question she’d posed to him twice, leaving her door standing open by the aid of a heavy piece of iron stopped at the bottom. Jones gave her a sheepish grin, and strode off down the corridor. She supposed her confinement was officially over, but she’d await that bath before venturing onto the deck.

The lump in her throat remained at the prospect of Addison being so close to her. Why hadn’t he come to see her once she’d awakened? The thought of bedding, or worse, marrying, a pirate must be abhorrent to him. Disgust probably kept him away.

While he most certainly would never consider keeping his contract with her father now, she would speak with him about watching over her children. She would even marry him so that her father would keep his end of the deal, and agree to disappear for good so he would not need worry being married to a pirate. A marriage in name only. She’d done that before.

But, she’d not been in love the first time.

By the time she determined to demand Addison fulfill his contract with her father, if only for her children, five lads had positioned a large tub in her room, and promptly filled it with many buckets of steaming water.

She poured a lavender-scented oil she’d found near the washstand, down into the inviting depths of steam, relishing a bath and the ease of her muscles. She must look a terrible fright with her hair all twisted about her head, the ill-fitting blouse hanging from her body, and all the bruises marring her arms and legs. Yes, she’d find a new blouse, insist one of the men provide her a pair of breeches, and ask to borrow Bartholomew’s brush and a ribbon.

Then, she’d speak with Addison.

“You resemble a street urchin instead of a pirate.”

The deep, silken resonance of his voice sent a shiver up her spine, and a fierce thump to her heart.

She’d forgotten to shut the door.