Page 59 of Paid to the Pirate

Scowling, I returned, “I play no game, captain, but if I were, surely you’d be playing it because you like what transpired between us last night.”

The captain cocked a brow. “Are you going to dare tell me you did not? Because every whimper, every moan and cry and scream told me something else last night.”

Blushing, I averted my eyes.

Colt sighed again. Reaching out one finger, he lifted the gold locket around my neck, tracing the oval with his thumb.

“Listen to me, Charlotte. Nobody cares about my lost bag o’ bits and half of the men are glad you killed Maurice. But they don’t know you stole the Eye because they don’t know it exists. The sooner you tell me where you hid it, the better I can protect you.”

I swallowed. Shuffled my feet.What could I possibly say?Other than the truth, and I didn’t see a happy outcome to that. Either Colt wouldn’t believe me, and I’d enrage him for the lie, or he would believe me, and I’d enrage him for the deception up until then.

I had no plan, other than to wait and hope. Earn his trust, maybe.

Colt sighed a third time as he took my hand and led me back toThe Dread Night.

#

Our return to the colonies was very different than our departure. Perhaps not outwardly, but within. I no longer fought the hot rivers of desire running through my veins whenever Colt set his dark gaze upon me. We made no attempt to hide from the crew our lingering glances, our overlong disappearances.

The nights became a wonder of exploration.

In Colt’s increasing boldness, one evening he spread me upon the bed before supper, teasing my slit until I dripped. Captain Colt took that same wetness and spread it across my neck like perfume. He even ringed his own neck with my sticky lubrication, inhaling deeply. Without any shame he told me he wanted to smell my arousal as we dined, as a reminder of what was to come after. And he did -- leaning over and inhaling at my neck throughout our meal, until I’d turned as red as an apple imagining the whole table could scent me.

True to his word, Colt spoke with Redhands and put him off his plan to whip me. For now. I knew I’d only bought time, but I prayed for a miracle to help guide me to my lost memories or at least, to the Crimson Eye itself. When Colt turned his back as he undressed at night, I’d kneel and pray beside our bed. But I wasn’t sure if God’s ears reached a pirate’s cabin, so I prayed upon the forecastle deck as well. With wide seas and open skies, where better to have my pleas reach the heavens?

The only problem was, having succumbed to sin so thoroughly, I wasn’t sure the almighty listened any longer.

Yet if my soul was tarnished, half-claimed by the devil, I’d never felt more alive.

Something I hadn’t truly known before came over me as we sailed. Beyond contentment, beyond happiness. A feeling like bliss surged through me when Colt took me to bed. A feeling of finding home soothed my soul in a way I’d never imagined. In the evenings, we read to one another or Colt told me stories of his youth. As I suspected, Colt was raised to be a gentleman. By his mother, at least. His father preferred a bottle of whiskey over the company of his family and the more their money slipped away the more he raised his voice… and then, his fists. When his mother passed away, Colt ran away. Maurice had found him and taken him under his wing. Maurice was an even more brutal man, but he was never cruel to Colt, or Robert, his other adopted son.

It wasn’t just my pirate captain; the ship and the sea worked its magic on me too. I’d awaken to the crisp salt air each morning and sing the men my favorite shanties as the moon rose and the endless glitter of stars shone above.

When we finally reached my settlement… my home… it looked curiously smaller than when I’d left it. Dirtier, even.

I dreaded facing Daniel at our rendezvous. For some reason, I was sure Mrs. Penningham would understand. A part of me wondered if she even knew before I knew, if she’d read something in Colt the night he whisked me away, if she’d recognized that a passion borne of the wilds existed between us -- or could, if we let it.

But sweet Daniel… I was about to break his faith in me, and his heart.

#

We arrived late into a sleepy port, and I was glad. I wouldn’t face the many questions of the townsfolk who’d long since retired for the evening.

The steadfast torchlights of our tavern still flickered, of course.

Mrs. Penningham rushed to greet me, wrapping me in the tightest hug anyone had ever given. She fussed over me like a child returning to her mother, which, I supposed in a way, I was. When Colt stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, a knowing smile touched her lips.

“Have a seat, have a seat,” she said, with a knowing smile playing at her gently wrinkling lips. “I’ll fetch some ale for you.”

Noting the crew filing in behind us, she added, “For all of you.”

I fidgeted nervously upon my stool as Colt regaled Mr. and Mrs. Penningham with anecdotes of our battle on the crossing to Nassau, as well as tidbits from other journeys. The conversation flowed with unusual ease, making me surer that Mrs. Penningham had suspected this outcome.

It didn’t take long before I spied a head of light-brown hair peeking around the corner to the kitchens and my heart thumped.

“Mrs. Penningham,” I said, interrupting the happy flow of conversation. “Thank you for the drink but I have had too much ale and must excuse myself.”

Colt’s gaze was immediately suspicious as I rose, and I couldn’t blame him, given what I’d recently done. But he made no move to stop me.

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