Claire tapped her finger on her lips. The harrowing rescue proved a man that could do the things Devon did, earned his rank as master seaman. To thrust his ship against theMer Un Serpentand turn the table on Le Trompeur was assuredly reckless and to be grudgingly respected. His genius for naval tactics already legendary grew to larger proportions, creating a sensation in Europe, yet straining diplomatic relations between England and Spain. Bitterly, she mused, he had become the object of worship in the eyes of the savage Brethren of the Coast. As a result, he was targeted in a massive manhunt by the Crown Heads of Europe. The consequence of such disadvantaged fame fashioning him the symbol of the depredations of the buccaneers in the Caribbean they desired to eradicate. She disapproved his exploits, yet remained thankful he had saved her from Le Trompeur’s grasp. She shuddered at the thought of being in the hands of that vile pirate.
The night’s event’s paid a toll on her nerves. She lay down on Devon’s bed, pulled up the covers and inhaled his scent, allowing weariness to envelope her.
Claire awoke to stirrings up above. She threw open her trunk and rummaged to the bottom, satisfied to see if the deed was safe. She pulled off her torn dress and donned a new one, brushing out her long tresses in front of a mirror. He did not return in the night. Why did it bother her? Devon needed a lesson. A small smile played about her lips. She picked up her dagger and in the meager light, picked the lock, a skill she had developed in a childhood game played with Lily. Devon shouted orders up on deck. Her smile widened when the latch clicked and sprung open. Now, my fine Captain is when you get your comeuppance.
Elated by her mission, Claire walked onto the deck, the breeze lifting her long hair. The sun aloft was a great golden pearl, full and dazzling. The day could be any other day, sailing on a sea-voyage except that she was a prisoner on a pirate ship. She navigated across the deck with her head held high. Her heart raced. Her plans weren’t entirely thought out, but the reality of assembling any plans became irrelevant if one’s enemy was a powerful man. And a pirate of Devon’s infamous stature was about as powerful as a man could be.
As Claire kept up with her stroll, she became aware more eyes settled upon her. Her discomfort grew as they quit their chores and stared. Some of them were admiring, some curious. These men were not like the civilized seamen of merchant ships or the King’s navy. Her plan to provoke Devon faltered. He was nowhere about. Claire moved to the taffrail. She had made a mistake and she sat upon a cask, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt to watch the waves skimming against the ship as if she had nothing else in the world to do. Calming her nerves and pretending the whole thing was a nightmare did not help either, especially when several pirates crowded around her.
Devon could barely believe when he saw her head emerge from the companionway. She had arranged herself on the deck like a flower. His deck.The Sea Scorpion. The little witch. She dared to defy him. He continued to climb down the foremast.
How did she get loose? Bloodsmythe. He had a soft heart. He cut her loose. Bloodsmythe deserved the cat-o’-nine’s to his back.
He dropped to the foredeck and moved to find Bloodsmythe, but pivoted when a group of his men surrounded her. Devon knew they wouldn’t dare harm her. He had sworn them to the articles. They understood the consequences of going against those articles.
“Now aren’t you the prettiest thing I seen in years,” said one of his men.
“I’ll wager she’s prettier than any of the women I’ve seen on Tortuga,” voiced another.
It galled Devon when Josiah knelt in front of her with his hands folded in supplication.
“Do get up,” she urged, a rose tint hinted on her cheeks.
“I cannot until ye understand ye’ve stolen me heart.” He took his hat off and held it in his hands. “Here it is, squeezed in your sweet little hands. So I’ll be pledging my betrothal in a comely manner, and ye’ll be so smitten ye’ll be giving me the answer I’m hoping to hear.” He whistled through his two front missing teeth for his fellow pirate to commence serenading her with a violin.
Devon cursed. His men were like lap dogs panting, and Josiah’s pathetic proposal. And now the cruelty Willie sawed on his violin, screeching and scratching, making his ears bleed.
“I will?” she said, smiling down on Josiah.
“Aye, that you will, darling,” Josiah said, sticking his thumb over his shoulder. “But then look at your choices, these blokes, rough around the ears, none of them a gentleman like meself, who’ll give ye laughter, joy, and never a dull moment.”
Devon caught Claire’s laughter, like an angel’s, it tinkled over the soft sea breeze. “You can’t seriously be declaring marriage.”
“I am,” Josiah gave a long love worn sigh. “Is that not what ye want to hear?”
“I-I appreciate the honor of your request, but−”
“Marry me. I swear ye’ll not regret it.”
Devon loomed on the foredeck above the small assemblage. His teeth ground as she continued to entrance his men. Bloodsmythe crossed the deck and caught his eye. He halted as much surprised of her appearance as Devon. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, denoting his silent befuddlement, as a clear “no” in his involvement of that escape. All men cranked their heads to see their Captain. Devon stared them down in a possessive way that shouted,keep offas clearly as words−everyone, except the captivated Josiah. He had not, as yet, caught Devon’s eye. One by one each man turned to his task.
Claire thought it odd their rapid departure. She shook her head. They must have to get back to their chores. Only Josiah remained. She admired his persistence and hated to disappoint the charming pirate, but disappoint him she must. “I−”
A shadow menaced over her. Nerves tingled on the back of her neck. Josiah’s throat worked up and down like wash on a washboard.
“This charade has gone on long enough,” Devon cut in tersely.
“Good day, Ma’am. Nice to make your acquaintance,” Josiah said. He bobbed his head and rose so fast, she thought he’d jump from his skin.
If only the initial courage she had mustered for a confrontation had not fled like an outgoing wake. She stood with a feigned nonchalance she was far from feeling.
“How did you get out of the cabin?”
The Captain was at his most commanding. Claire bristled. “I am so sorry,” she responded, sounding anything but. “I did not realize I would not be allowed to take a walk. If there are other ship rules you wish me to follow, pray write them down.”
“Only to see you flout them later. This is my ship, and I am in command. Is that too much to expect?”
“I was looking for you.” Claire attempted to control the conversation despite her knees shaking. “I expect an apology.”
