The Pirate Lord (15 page)

Petey turned to her, surprised to find her blushing furiously. She cast him a guilty look, then lowered her gaze to her hands. “I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about.”

“Of course not,” the captain ground out. “I should’ve expected a two-faced English
lady
like you to deny the truth about our ‘friendship.’ Well, you may deny it to me, and you may even deny it to this sailor of yours.” He lowered his voice to a threatening hum. “But you’ll have a hell of a hard time denying it to yourself.”

With that strange remark, the captain turned on his heel and stalked out of the foc’sle, slamming the door behind him and leaving Petey feeling all at sea. There was something between the captain and Miss Willis, that much was obvious.

Miss Willis spun away from Petey. “The wretch! The abominable wretch!”

For the first time since she’d entered the crew’s quarters, Petey noticed how disheveled she looked. The modesty piece she always wore was gone, and one of the ties from her chemise dangled outside her bodice. His blood ran cold. “What did he mean, ‘friendly’? What’s that bloody pirate been doin’ to you?”

For a moment she said nary a word. “Nothing I didn’t allow him to do,” she murmured finally.

He groaned. If he ever got Miss Willis out of this
mess, her stepbrother was going to murder him. “So he touched you? Did he…I mean, was he…” Petey broke off. The saints be cursed. How did a low sailor like him ask an earl’s stepsister such an indelicate and insulting question?

But he didn’t have to ask. He could tell from the way she colored that she understood his question. Steadying her shoulders, she fixed him with a too bright gaze. “He didn’t…deflower me, if that’s what you’re asking. And he won’t. Not ever.” When his only response was to raise an eyebrow, she added, “You needn’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I can see that. That’s why y’ve got the cap’n sniffin’ after you like a tomcat on the prowl.”

She cast him a look that could’ve cut glass, it was that sharp. “I can handle Captain Horn, Petey. You just concentrate on getting us away from these wretched pirates.”

Then she hurried from the cabin, leaving him to wonder just how he was supposed to manage her escape when he couldn’t even keep her safe from the Pirate Lord—or herself.

“W
hat do you think?” Sara asked Louisa, as they stood on deck peering at the horizon shortly after breakfast the next morning. It had been almost half an hour since the lookout had shouted “Land ho!” and they could still make out only a speck of mottled brown past the glassy sea.

“Hard to say. It’s still too far away to tell much.”

A crowd of women surrounded them, pushing against the rails in their eagerness to glimpse their new home. Ann Morris shoved her way through to stand at Sara’s elbow, her dark curls framing an eager, rosy face. “Is that it?” Ann shifted a stack of dirty plates from one hand to the other. “Is that Atlantis Island?”

“We’re not sure,” Sara said, “but we think so. We seem to be making for it. And the captain did tell me it would take only two days’ sail.”

Ann squinted at the speck. “P’raps we should ask Pe
tey to let us get a look at it through the spyglass. He’d find a way to get one for us, I’ll wager.”

“Oh, I’m sure if Miss Willis asked, he’d be only too happy to oblige,” Louisa remarked absently. “Now that she’s going to marry him, he—”

A sudden crash made both Sara and Louisa whirl toward Ann. The little woman stood staring down at a pile of broken crockery, her fist pressed to her mouth.

“Ann?” Sara asked as the Welshwoman bent and began to gather the broken pieces up, placing them quickly in her apron. “Ann, are you all right?” She knelt beside Ann, who was crying now, big, fat tears rolling down her apple cheeks. “Good heavens, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Ann protested, keeping her gaze averted from Sara. “It-it’s nothin’. I just lost my grip on them, is all.”

“But you’re crying—”

Louisa’s hand on Sara’s shoulder cut her off. Louisa bent to murmur in her ear, “Leave her be. I shouldn’t have said that in front of her, but I thought she’d already heard the news.”

“Heard what news?” Sara lifted her head to ask.

“That you and Petey are engaged, of course.”

It was true that Sara had told as many of the women as possible once she’d left the crew’s quarters last night, but she hadn’t thought it would disturb any of them. Sara stared blankly at Louisa, then glanced at Ann, who’d gathered up all the crockery and had now risen to hurry away through the crowd.

That’s when the truth hit Sara. Oh, how could she have been so stupid? She’d paid no attention to Ann’s worshipful comments about Petey, to the way she’d always fussed over him on the
Chastity
.

Ann was in love with Petey—and Sara’s engagement to him must be killing her. She must’ve had her heart set on marrying Petey herself. Guilt hit Sara full force. She’d blithely agreed to Petey’s plan without stopping
to think whom else it might hurt. Poor Ann.

It didn’t help to tell herself that Petey probably didn’t even share the Welshwoman’s affections, and that he’d be gone as soon as he could find a way off the island. No, it didn’t help one jot. Ann had never had much in her life, and now the only hope she’d clung to was being ripped away from her. By Sara, who’d never wanted anything but to make the women happy.

She watched as Ann beat a hasty retreat into the galley. Then she rose and turned to Louisa. “Did you know she had her eye on Petey?”

Louisa nodded. “But don’t worry. I understand why you and Petey joined together, even if Ann doesn’t. You’re the only two in this unholy crowd who aren’t criminals of one sort or another. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to marry a convict, and I certainly can’t blame you for not wanting to marry a pirate.” She shrugged. “People generally stick to their kind. It’s something I learned…a long time ago.”

The wistfulness in Louisa’s voice made a lump from in Sara’s throat. Louisa had never spoken much about her past, but Sara had made some conjectures. The man she’d stabbed had been the eldest son of a duke. It would’ve been easy to fall in love with such a man, but as a governess, Louisa could never have hoped to marry the heir to a title. Still, if she’d been in love with him, what could the man have done to make her angry enough to stab him? A simple refusal to marry her didn’t seem like enough provocation for a woman of Louisa’s breeding and intelligence. There must have been more to the story, much more.

But Louisa wasn’t the type to talk about her crime as some of the others were wont to do, so Sara wasn’t likely to find out the truth. It was a pity. She would like to help Louisa.

Help Louisa. The way she’d helped Ann. Louisa could do without such help.

“I don’t see any trees,” Louisa commented, obviously
determined to turn the subject away from herself.

Still swamped with guilt, Sara returned her gaze to the horizon. Now the speck had grown to a shapeless blob, still brown and unlikely looking. “That’s what Gideon calls a ‘paradise’?” she speculated aloud.

Louisa slanted a curious look at her. “Gideon? You’re on a first-name basis with our good captain?”

Hot color stained Sara’s cheeks. “No, of course not. I-I meant to say, Captain Horn.” That was something else she had to feel guilty about—her disastrous encounter with him yesterday. He’d avoided her ever since, and with good reason. She should never have allowed him such blatant liberties. It gave him the wrong idea entirely.

“I wouldn’t get too close to Captain Horn, if I were you,” Louisa remarked in a low voice, her face carefully blank.

“I’m not friendly with him.”

Louisa arched one eyebrow. “Good. Then you won’t mind that he sent Barnaby down to the hold late last night to fetch Queenie to his bed.”

Her gaze flew to Louisa’s. “He did
what
?”

“You said you weren’t close to him.”

Jerking her gaze back to the horizon, Sara fought for some semblance of nonchalance. “I’m not. I’m just…appalled that he would do such a thing after he told the men to behave as gentlemen until the marriage vows were said.”
And after he spent the afternoon trying to seduce me
.

A hot surge of jealousy swept through her despite all her attempts to quell it. Glancing up to where Gideon was manning the helm and shouting orders to his sailors, she grimaced. In his scandalous leather vest and form-fitting breeches, he looked exactly like what he truly was—a randy satyr who would seduce anything in skirts. She’d been right not to trust him. For all his soft words, his overtures to her had been meaningless. He’d never intended anything but a quick seduction.

And to think she’d almost given in to him! What a dreadful mistake that would have been!

Louisa shrugged. “He’s the captain. Surely you didn’t expect him to follow the same rules he set for his men.”

“That’s exactly what I did expect.” Sara sniffed. “He talks about starting a colony and making it a paradise, but what he really wants is a harem for him and his men. He wants to make us all into Queenies.”

“Shh,” Louisa whispered. “Here she comes now.”

Sara told herself not to pay any attention to the woman. But she couldn’t resist peeking to see if Queenie indeed looked as if she’d spent the night with the captain.

There was no doubt about it. Queenie had definitely spent the night with
someone
. She wore a cat-in-the-cream smile as she swaggered across the deck toward the other women, and her face literally glowed with good health.

“Good mornin’, all,” she chirped. Stretching her shapely arms high over her head, she gave an exaggerated yawn. “Afraid I’m a little late gettin’ around this mornin’. Had a long night, you know.” With a languid grace Sara hardly knew the woman possessed, she let her arms slide back down like wilting flower petals, then struck a seductive pose. “I tell you, ladies, you mustn’t worry about the kind of husbands these pirates make. Judging from last night, I’d say they’ll do nicely…quite nicely indeed.”

Most of the women chuckled. Sara couldn’t. Turning her flaming face back to the horizon, she fought down the bitter words rising in her throat. What did it matter if Gideon
had
bedded Queenie? What did it matter if the wretched tart
had
enjoyed it? They deserved each other. Queenie represented the worst of the convict women and Gideon the worst of the pirates; they’d be perfect together.

Then Sara felt, rather than saw, Queenie press through the crowd to stand next to her. Clamping her
lips shut, Sara continued to stare at the island, which now loomed much closer and larger than before.

“Is that it?” Queenie asked, bracing her crossed arms against the rail. “That’s Atlantis?”

“We think so,” Louisa thankfully answered. Sara couldn’t have answered civilly at that moment if her life depended on it.

“Don’t look like much,” Queenie grumbled. “There’s no green. And where’s the water?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed. Queenie was right. There was no evidence of a spring or any sort of vegetation. Surely this couldn’t be what Gideon had meant by “paradise.” If so, he had a strange idea about what paradise required.

A somber silence fell on all the women as the ship neared the island.
After everything these women have endured
, Sara thought,
at least Gideon could have had the decency not to deceive them about what lay ahead at Atlantis
.

As they watched, however, the ship started to veer to the right. It was still making for the island, but now it seemed to be making for the furthest end of it.

“Maybe this ain’t the island after all,” one of the women standing behind Sara remarked. “Maybe we just got to get around it.”

“I don’t think so,” Sara mused aloud, now very curious. “If they’d wanted to avoid it, they could have passed it from a greater distance.”

The women surged forward against the railing as each sought to get a better look at the huge expanse of dead grass and half-submerged boulders that was now so close they could make out the forms of white seagulls flitting in and out of the jumble of rock.

The ship turned fully to the right and was sailing parallel to the island. It took several minutes to round the rocky outcropping on the end, for Atlantis was wider than they’d expected. But as the ship passed the point, putting them in view of a new side of the island, the women collectively gasped.

This side was as green and lush as the other side had been brown and dry. Feathery coconut palms lined the sandy curve of shore, and beyond them a veritable jungle of exotic trees, twisting vines, and matted undergrowth stretched upward toward the top of the island, a peak that appeared to be several miles inland.

Thatched huts of various designs were nestled into the forest banking the beach, and at one end of the natural lagoon a dock that looked substantial enough to accommodate the
Satyr
stretched out into the water as if waiting to claim them. Another vessel was moored to it on the side away from them, a sloop about half the size of the
Satyr
, but obviously quite seaworthy and probably still capable of carrying a large cargo.

As the ship slowed, Sara glimpsed a silvery sliver of a stream bisecting the shore. Beside it lay a couple of rough wooden carts, obviously used for hauling containers of water. There was even a rude track along the beach where the cart had obviously been dragged.

Paradise. She had to admit it. Clear blue waters filled with tropical fish, colorful fruits dripping from the trees, and a light, warm climate. Heaven itself.

The sound of wood scraping against wood jolted her from her thoughts, signaling that they’d reached the dock. As men scurried to weigh anchor and secure the ship against the newly cut posts, the women began to point out sights and to chatter excitedly about their home.

“So what do you think, ladies?” came a voice behind them. “Does it meet your expectations?”

As a chorus of women exclaimed over the island, Sara tightened her lips. Gideon. Apparently, with the ship docked he now had time to come boast about his precious island. Bother it all. She had half a mind to tell him exactly what he could do with his paradise.

From his standpoint behind Sara, Gideon surveyed her stiff back and rigid stance, wondering what she was so angry about now. He’d expected her to be pleasantly
surprised by the delights of Atlantis Island, not furious.

Why in blazes do I care
? he thought sourly when she refused to look at him or say anything.
She made her bed with that blasted Hargraves. Let her lie in it
.

The trouble was, he couldn’t stand to let Hargraves have her. God knew she was a troublesome wench, with a tongue that could strip the barnacles off a ship’s hull. But he couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to hold her and kiss her, how, for just a few moments, she’d been an eager, melting softness in his arms. Confound her, thoughts like that had kept him up half the night, making him call for Queenie and just as quickly turn her over to Barnaby when he realized she wasn’t what he wanted.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, Queenie sidled up to him and slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. “Good mornin’, guv’nor. Hope you’re feelin’ as good this mornin’ as I am.”

He stared at Queenie incredulously. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been railing at him for not bedding her. It had taken both him and Barnaby to convince her to vacate his cabin after he’d made the disastrous mistake of calling for her. What was her game now? He knew she’d spent the night with Barnaby, and judging from the first mate’s smile and her pleasant expression, it had been a good one. What did she want with him?

Then Queenie slanted a glance at Sara’s unyielding back, and Gideon instantly understood. Obviously, Sara had heard about his calling for Queenie. And Queenie must’ve let Sara believe that she’d spent the night with him.

So that was why Sara refused to look at him or speak to him! She was angry about Queenie. The thought gave him immense satisfaction. Despite all Sara’s protestations that she didn’t want him, she was jealous over some tart she thought he’d made love to.

Then a sobering thought hit him. She might merely be pretending to a moral disgust over his supposed
lechery. It would be just like Sara to look down her nose at him for seeking relief for the very fires she’d roused in him…and refused to quench herself.