Once a Pirate (19 page)

A sudden snapping of sticks and the thud of booted feet interrupted the peaceful sound of crickets, frogs, and surf.

She and Andrew were barefoot.

“Looka here. Now ain’t this sweet?”

The raspy voice chilled her soul.

“Think yer one of them bluebloods now, Spencer?”

Andrew stiffened. He moved her to the edge of the path before turning his attention to the dark form behind them. “You’ve been taken care of, Booth. If it’s not to your satisfaction, leave. No one will stop you.”

The man’s hair was damp and slicked back from his face, revealing narrowed, bloodshot eyes. The evening breeze brought the odor of booze. “You promised me my share of the ransom. And I ain’t leavin’ without it.”

Crap.
Her pulse kicked into double time. She should have known the bastard wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“Mr. Booth,” Andrew warned.

“Yer high an’ mighty now that ya got yerself the lady. ’Twasn’t so long ago you were rottin’ behind bars. Where were yer gentlemen and lady friends then?”

“Go about your business, Booth,” Andrew said in a low, ominous tone. “Now.”

Booth’s gaze veered to her, freezing her with the icy
hatred in their depths. He gave a harsh laugh. “Spencer, yer a bigger fool than I thought. I can’t believe yer givin’ up a fortune for this titless wench.” Mortified, she inhaled sharply. Then Andrew lunged for Booth, knocking him to the ground with a horrific scrape along the pebbly sand.

Carly cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed toward the village. “Help! We need help! At the beach!” Urgently she scanned the ground. She was damned good with a gun; some of that skill had to transfer to sticks and stones.

She heard the revolting thud of a fist hitting flesh, then Andrew’s muffled grunt of pain. Both were large men. But what Andrew had in height, Booth made up for with sheer bulk. Guilt swamped her as she chose a fist-sized rock, then discarded it to snatch a larger one. This wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t asked for a swim.

But the two men would have come to blows eventually. That was her fault, too. She’d been wrong to keep Booth’s assault a secret. It had allowed him to do what he pleased unchecked. Now he’d attacked Andrew.

Adrenaline pumped in her veins; ragged breaths tore at her dry throat. She tested the weight of the rock, raised her shaking arm as the men tumbled past.
Damn it.
They rolled too fast, too unpredictably. She pranced backward, aiming at Booth’s head. Then Andrew’s shoulder blocked her view. Frustration bit at her insides. If she threw the rock at Booth, she could just as easily hit Andrew. The helplessness and choking fear she’d felt that night alone with Booth came flooding back—this time multiplied a thousandfold.

If Booth killed Andrew, not only would she lose the man she loved, but she’d be left alone on an island in the 1800s with no protection or means.

“Help!” she shouted toward the ocean, desperate now, praying that another couple had opted for a late swim.

Voices sang out from the direction of the village. Her knees nearly buckled with relief. Gasping, she glanced up the hill. Torches burst through the lush jungle, conveyed by what had to be fifty women and men, some in nightshirts, cutlasses drawn. Chickens darted ahead, squawking, while roosters crowed and the flea-bitten black-and-white dog that followed her around hoping for scraps sprinted in frenzied circles to the wails of crying babies.

Gibbons aimed his pistol. “Booth! Leave the captain be or you’re a dead man.” But the same problem that kept her from hurling the rock prevented him from firing.

Booth slammed Andrew onto his back. Andrew twisted free and locked his arm around Booth’s thick neck, wrenching him backward.” ’Tis enough, man!”

Blood sprayed in bursts from Booth’s mouth and
battered nose while he struggled in Andrew’s stranglehold. His face turned purple; a vein pulsed in each sweaty temple.

Teeth bared, Andrew gave his forearm a savage jerk. Booth gurgled, clawing at his arm. “What’ll it be, Booth?”

He shuddered, wheezed his surrender. Andrew released him, and he sagged to his hands and knees, gasping, splattering droplets of blood onto the sand.

Brushing grit from his torn pants, Andrew straightened. Blood streamed from a cut above his right eye; bruises and dirty scrapes marred his shoulders and back. He took the pistol Gibbons handed him and beckoned to her.

She hurried to his side. “You’re hurt,” she said tightly.

He ignored her remark, his attention trained on Booth. He spoke softly so only she could hear. “Honor is at stake here. Yours, love, and mine. I have to do this.” His expression was bleak as he pressed the muzzle to the back of Booth’s head.

Carly’s heart lurched. Was he going to execute him?

“Now,” he began calmly, “what exactly occurred between you and Mr. Booth?”

Hesitant, she eyed Booth, then searched the crowd for Theo. The boy was unaware of the danger her confession might place him in, yet she had to tell the truth. She’d held her silence for too long, and now they were all paying for it. “He assaulted me.”

Andrew’s eyes turned hard.

“Months ago . . . about the time of the Neptune ceremony. He found me on the deck one night, and he . . .” She took a shuddering breath.

“Speak,” Andrew whispered harshly.

“He cornered me, pushed me into an alcove where no one could see us. He took himself out of his pants and—” She averted her eyes from the back of Booth’s head. “I thought he was going to rape me.”

Andrew’s eyes flashed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He said he’d hurt Theo.” She studied the boy’s wan face and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t risk that. I figured I’d eventually settle the score. But when things quieted down, I let it go.”

“Let it go?” Andrew demanded, aghast. “He humiliated you. He made threats against one of my sailors. You should have told me, Carly. You should have trusted me.”

“Trusted you?” She gaped at him. They were still whispering, but they might as well have been shouting at each other. “You didn’t believe a word I said at that time. You thought I was mad.”

“Whether or not I thought you daft,” he said stiffly, “you should have come to me.”

“I wanted to. But I wasn’t able to trust.” She smoothed her hand over his beard-roughened cheek. “I was afraid to rely on anyone.”

Was she ready to tell him exactly why?

“’Twas my duty to protect you then. I failed. It won’t happen a second time.” He butted the muzzle against Booth’s head. “I’ve heard about all I can stomach.”

“Finish what ye started then,” Booth muttered in a gravelly taunt.

Andrew’s expression was so cold, so foreign to the man she’d come to know, that she braced herself, repelled by the prospect of viewing Booth’s imminent demise at such close range. “You freed me from prison, Mr. Booth. ’Tis the reason you are still alive—the only reason. In exchange, I want you to leave.
Know this—if you return, for any reason, I’ll kill you.” He and Booth regarded each other for several almost unbearably tense heartbeats. “Now get the bloody hell off my island. Ryan, Carstens!” he shouted to Booth’s cronies. “Take him. He’s in no shape to row.” Dispatching one of the children, Andrew said, “Find a cask of drinking water—make that two—and bring them to the shore. Make haste!”

Booth spat a bloody glob of saliva onto the dirt, scrutinizing Andrew and Carly in turn as his friends lifted him to his feet. The entire village followed the three men to where the longboats sat on the beach. Andrew kept the pistol aimed at their backs. The crowd magically dispersed, allowing him a clear view of their retreat.

Only after the men shoved one of the small boats into the surf did Andrew lower the pistol. Carly wound her arms around his waist. He drew her to his chest, burying his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. “He’ll not hurt you anymore,” he murmured.

“Spencer, you bastard!” The shout interrupted their brief kiss. Booth was balancing himself in the boat, one arm clutched to his belly. “I’ll have my gold!” he bellowed, hoarse, defiant. “One way or the other! If not from you, then from Westridge!”

Andrew grabbed Carly’s arm and propelled her away from the water, walking so fast that she stumbled.” ’Tis over, ladies and gentlemen,” he called briskly. “Go back to bed.”

“Crap, Andrew. What if he finds the duke’s ship and brings them here?”

“Nay!” Andrew said, overly loud. “An empty threat. He’ll not know where to find them. Only Cuddy
and I know where the ransom was to be exchanged. ’Tis nowhere near Emerald Isle.”

“Then where will he go?”

“The mainland. A full day’s sail with the trades.”

“What if he tells someone else about us?”

“Who? The Portuguese? The plantation owners? I’ve traded with them for years. Neither will be interested.”

She glanced behind her. The longboat was now a speck in the dark surf.

“Booth’s a privateer,” Andrew said, his tone gentler. “He’s also a wanted man. He’d best find himself another ship and sail out.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

“Aye.” Laying his arm protectively over her shoulders, he guided her back to the
choupana.

Weak from exhaustion, Carly wedged a rolled washcloth between the back of her head and the narrow edge of the metal tub. After they returned, she’d tended Andrew’s wounds, then urged him to rest. But he wouldn’t hear of it. “I promised you a bath, and you shall have it,” he’d said.

Only her knees and head poked above the water as the soothing warmth worked its way into her body—a weary and shaken body. If only Andrew would be quiet, she could slip into oblivion.

“Perhaps if we were to sail to the precise location, on the date and time exactly one year from the date you arrived,’ twould work,” Andrew reasoned aloud.

Lying on the mattress, hands laced behind his head, he was no doubt working off the lingering adrenaline from the fight by talking incessantly about how he could help her get back to the twenty-first century. Solving the
problem of how that might be accomplished presented him with a challenge he couldn’t resist.

Carly opened one eye. “If what you’re proposing is to reverse what happened, we’d have to get into the air. Not only would we need a storm, we’d need a hot air balloon.”

Andrew rolled onto his side, his eyes shining with the same boyish excitement he had when he talked about helicopters.

Exasperated, she blurted, “You’re nuts! We’ll get ourselves killed. I don’t even know how I got here, let alone how to get back.”

“You’ve given up before you’ve begun,” he said irritably.

She couldn’t blame him. Had she criticized his creative and unconventional plan to defeat the warship, he would have reacted the same way. Besides, he hadn’t offered to come along. He loved her and she loved him, but she couldn’t assume that he wanted to spend his life with her. If she’d learned any lesson from her years with Rick, it was that.

She stepped out of the tub and dried off. “Let’s go to sleep. I’m tired, and your eye’s swelling.”

To her dismay, Andrew ignored her attempt to dismiss his newly hatched plan. “What do you remember of the night you came to the
Phoenix
?”

“I woke in your bed. I saw you—”

“Before you came to be in the water.”

“We took off from Aviano, an airbase in Italy.” As she described the journey to the carrier in detail, frantic, dark images flickered through her mind. “Heavy rain smothered my engines. Kind of like drowning a steam engine with water.”

Andrew interrupted her with more questions about
flying. Those questions led to more questions. Although the concept of computers caused him to stumble more than once, overall, it amazed her how much he grasped.

“Even with my protective clothing on,” she said, “I doubt I would have lasted more than an hour or two. If you hadn’t pulled me from the water, I would have died.”

“I’ve got you.”

The disjointed nightmares of the past few months suddenly came together, shaking her very soul. “Oh, my God, the dreams! Andrew, the dreams are the rescue. When I dream,
your
arms come around me.
You’re
the one holding me and telling me not to be afraid.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have the same dream, don’t you?”

Brooding, he frowned at the ceiling.

“You do. I know you do. That’s all it is. A memory of you rescuing me.”

“In my dreams I cannot hold on to you,” he said grimly.” ’Tis not what happened that night.”

Clutching the towel to her breasts, she kneeled beside him. “No,” she whispered. “That night you saved my life.”

He rested one hand on her thigh, gave a sigh that sounded as though it emanated from the depths of his soul. Then he grasped her shoulders, pulling her over him. Her towel fell open, and water dripped from the still-wet ends of her hair onto his bare chest. “I fear your return will be in the same manner as your arrival,” he said. “If you must leave me—” He swallowed hard. “Don’t leave me, Carly.”

Her heart twisted. “How can you think I’d leave you?”

His expressive face clouded over. She felt his stomach muscles clench. Silent, he averted his gaze. For the first time since they’d become intimate, she hadn’t a clue as to what he was thinking.

Everything had changed in the space of one day. They had so much to lose—there was so much more at stake now.

Mentally and physically exhausted, she settled next to his warm, comforting nakedness, relieved to feel his arms come around her. Yet, as tired as they both were, sleep was long in coming.

The deepening twilight held the promise of a mild evening. Hand in hand, Carly and Andrew walked along the water’s edge. The sun settled toward the horizon, where towering indigo clouds pulsed with lightning far to the west.

“This is the earliest I’ve seen you come ashore in days,” she said. He’d been working furiously aboard the
Phoenix.
Although they didn’t see each other much during the day, they did have the nights together. Nights of passionate lovemaking. And little time for conversation before they fell asleep. “What’s wrong with taking a day off?”

“There are too many tasks yet to be done on the
Phoenix
.” He looked positively bleak.

Carly’s heart wrenched. He wanted so much to protect her, but why wouldn’t he confide in her? “This is
all because of Booth, isn’t it? You think he’s angry enough to track down that man-of-war and reveal our location. Or where you plan to rendezvous with Richard’s men.”

He waved away her concern. “Booth’s a wanted man himself. He will not risk it.”

Carly refused to accept Andrew’s reassurances. Instinct told her that he was deeply worried. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and gazed at him. The lump over his right eye had subsided in the days since the fight with Booth, but bluish-yellow smudges remained.

Joyful barking erupted from behind them, scattering her dismal thoughts. The black-and-white dog raced by with three shrieking children in hot pursuit. In their haste, the youngsters splashed Carly and Andrew. She welcomed the spray, grinning at the sight of the youngest child—a skinny-legged girl no more than three, her legs spinning hard to keep up with the older children. “Look how cute,” Carly crooned. “Makes me want a dozen of my own.”

Andrew grumbled something unintelligible.

She glanced up to find him scowling. Taken aback, Carly asked, “Don’t you ever want children?”

He let out an edgy sigh. “We did not take precautions,” he said, splaying his hand over her stomach.” ’Twas foolish. What if you are with child?”

She felt uneasy. “What if I am?”

His telling silence sliced through her. With revolting clarity, she recalled the look of distaste she’d seen on Rick’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant. He hadn’t wanted their child because he hadn’t wanted
her.
Her own father hadn’t wanted her. Well, she didn’t need them, either. And she didn’t need Andrew.

Backing away, Carly held her hands high to ward off more of Andrew’s lies. She couldn’t bear to listen. It would break her heart. “If you just want a sex toy, go find yourself one, because I’m not it. Shouldn’t be too tough. I’ve noticed more than a few women who look willing.”

He gazed at her in utter bewilderment. “Carly?”

“Don’t say anything!” Her lower lip quivered. “It’s over.”

“Over?”

“Damned right. If you don’t want our baby, you can’t have me.” She turned and ran as fast as she could.

“Carly!”

She fled blindly, not knowing where, only that she had to get away from the pain and humiliation. She was better off alone. She could get by without anyone’s help.

She could take care of herself.

Her legs pumped; her heart hammered wildly. She was fast, but Andrew was faster, and she wasn’t surprised to hear the sound of his feet thundering behind her.

“Good God, woman,
stop!”

He caught her, and they fell, tumbling over the sand. She threw punches until her fists throbbed, fighting back with the frenzied desperation of a wild animal until he crushed her to his chest and encased her in his powerful arms. Stinging fists and sheer exhaustion finally forced her to cease her struggles.

“Carly,” he gasped when she stilled, “whatever I have done to hurt you, I am sorry for it.”

He tried to meet her gaze, but she turned away. “Y-you don’t want a child with me.”

His eyes flashed. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I could see it in the way you looked at me,” she said. “I know that look.”

“What you saw was fear.
Fear,
Carly. I dread what I cannot control. Two of my men have run off with Booth, and the meeting with Richard’s men is in two weeks. I am wanted for murder, for piracy, and now for kidnapping. If I have gotten you with child, ’twill be another loved one to worry about. I will not rest until I see you both to safety.”

Andrew fought the sickening dread that had been dogging him for days. “Look at me,” he beseeched her. “I love you, Carly. I would not intentionally hurt you. Or abandon you.”

Her wide brown eyes brimmed with anguish and vulnerability. “Yeah, well, it’s happened twice. Third time’s a charm.”

He bristled. “Why do you doubt me?”

Her face contorted, but she did not weep.

“Tell me what happened, love. ’Tis eating you up inside.”

She stared at the horizon. “There was a baby,” she whispered.

“A baby? Yours?”

“Mine.”

Astonishment, possessiveness, and curiosity tumbled end over end, slamming into him and rendering him speechless.

She extricated herself from his embrace and rose to her feet. “I used birth control, but it happened anyway. I was thrilled, and I assumed Rick would be, too. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.”

Andrew nursed the thought of bloody well planting his fist in the man’s teeth.

“He said he’d marry me—if that’s what I wanted.” Carly winced. “Some proposal, huh? But I accepted because I couldn’t bear the thought of my child growing up without a father. Like I did.”

“Yet you did not marry him.”

She clenched her fists, then unclenched them, over and over. “Rick’s parents were wealthy. They convinced him that I wasn’t the proper choice for a wife. His mother even hinted that I was trying to trick him into marriage.” Wrapping one arm around her waist, she lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “They pressured me to end the pregnancy.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I was so ashamed,” she said hoarsely. “How could they ask me to do that when they knew my mother was dying? Rick knew how close I was to her. That baby was as much a part of my mother as it was of me. I knew when Mom died it would be the only family I had left, so I said no.” She spread her hands over her stomach. The protective gesture made his chest ache. He longed to go to her but sensed she needed to finish.

“That’s when Rick left.”

Andrew’s nostrils flared. “He left you to face the worst time of your life alone.”

Was there anything that he and this woman did not share?

“Yes. And it hurt; it hurt like hell.” Carly took a shaky breath. “I promised Mom that if the baby was a girl, I’d name her Rose. After her. But I never let on what happened with Rick. She died believing I’d be getting married, that I’d have all the things she’d never had.” Carly’s voice cracked. “I miscarried the baby two days after her funeral. I was only three months pregnant, but when I lost that life growing
inside me, it was as though
my
life was swept out, too. After that, I swore I’d never again rely on anyone else. Then I came here and met you and everything changed.”

“Then why didn’t you believe I’d want your child?”

She dashed away her tears with the heel of her palm. “Because I expected it. And dreaded it.” She regarded him. “Deep down I thought what we had was too good to be true.”

He walked to her. “To have a child with you—my God, Carly, I could not imagine a greater joy. I love you.”

She began to weep. He gathered her into his arms and took her grief inside him as though it was his own. “Know this, love: You’ll not be alone anymore. No matter how fast you run, I will catch you. And no matter where you go . . . I will find you.”

Kissing the top of her head, he stroked his fingers over her dampened hair. His heartbeats thrummed in time to her pulse. “You did nothing to deserve such cruelty,” he said. “The men who hurt you were weak and unworthy of your love. They are the ones to be pitied.” He framed her face in his hands. “Not you.”

She wanted to believe; he could see it in her eyes.

“Not you,” he repeated.

Touching her fingertip to his mouth, she traced his words. “Not . . .
us.”

“Aye,” he whispered gruffly.” ’Twas a hard lesson we learned. One I vow our children will never have to face.”

Our children.

Carly’s emotions tumbled. She wanted to laugh, to cry. Andrew was drawing the festering grief from her
soul as though it were venom from a snakebite. And now his love was pouring into her in its place.

“Wealth, status, power,” he said quietly.” ’Tis a seductive trilogy. Once, they were all I sought. They mean nothing to me now. I want a simple life, Carly, happiness. You.”

Her heart soared. “If you keep that up, you’ll be stuck with me for good.”

“I have nothing to offer,” he said quickly. “No land, little money, no title. Only a nomad’s life.”

“You’re more than any of that, Andrew. So much more.”

He grasped her shoulders and moved her back. “Marry me, Carly Callahan. Make me the happiest man on God’s green earth.”

“Yes,” she sang out. “Yes, yes, yes.”

With uncharacteristic abandon, he whooped loudly and lifted her, spinning her around. Laughing, they fell onto the sand. He rolled her onto her back, propped himself over her. “We’ll sail as soon as the
Phoenix
is ready.”

“Can’t we get married here?”

“We have no man of God on the island. No church.”

“But you’re a sea captain. Doesn’t that give you the authority to perform marriages?”

“At sea.” He contemplated her words. “As to performing my own marriage, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“You never heard of women falling through time, either.”

He laughed long and hard.

“So is that a ‘yes’? Oh, let’s do it, Andrew. I want to be your wife. We can cross the t’s and dot the i’s later.”

He replied with a warm, lingering kiss.

“Where will we sail when the
Phoenix
is ready?”

“Wherever you want, love, save England.”

“Definitely not England,” she said flatly.

“And be warned—if you wish to return to your home, you’ll be bringing your husband along for the ride.”

She gave a soft cry and kissed him. “Truth is, the idea of returning home has lost its appeal.” Aside from her career, which she loved, nothing awaited her there but loneliness and broken dreams. “The
Phoenix
feels more like home than home ever did.”

“Then you won’t mind sailing again so soon?”

“Not at all! How about America?”

“I’ll admit, I do admire the lot of them.”

“Those former colonist upstarts,” she said wryly.

“Aye, and I’m taking one on as a wife.”

“America,” she said on a sigh. “What an adventure. To get to the West Coast, we’ll have to sail around the Cape of Good Hope, then across the Pacific, right?”

“With stops in Polynesia and the Sandwich Islands.” His enthusiasm equaled her own.

“Theo will want to come.”

“I’ll disband the crew,” Andrew said. “But all those who wish to come along will be welcome.”

She clasped her hands together. “We’ll go to California. I don’t think it’s officially part of the country yet, but it will be. You’d love it. It’s beautiful along the coast. I happen to know where the best real estate is, too. We’ll find some land near Carmel—no, Santa Barbara. It’s gorgeous there. The climate’s mild year-round.”

“I grew up in London. I have never worked the land, though I rather like the idea.”

“You wouldn’t have to. We could start a shipping business.”

“Or build them,” he interjected. “I’ve often entertained the thought.”

“We’d need capital, though, for either venture.”

“We have the Blue Star of Delhi, and some gold.”

“Gold,” Carly breathed. The Gold Rush. When was it? In 1849—not for almost three more decades. Her mind raced ahead. “If we run out of money, I know a place near Sacramento, in the Sierras, where we can find some more. Of course we’ll have to keep it secret, and we’d only take what we needed.”

Andrew pressed his finger to her mouth, interrupting a rather nice daydream of them knee-deep in a river, gold pans in hand.

“One thing at a time,” he said. “My head is spinning.”

The scruffy black-and-white dog trotted past, kicking up powdery sand in his effort to evade his pintsized entourage. The pooch bolted one way, but the children veered the other. Giggling, they danced around Carly and Andrew, chattering in a mix of Portuguese, English, and the local dialect.

“Be off with you!” Andrew shooed them away. In a fresh fit of giggles, they ran away. He raised himself on one elbow and smiled down at her. “How was that for a stern fatherly voice?”

She laughed. “How many should we have? Two? Three’s a good number.”

“Let me see.” He stretched his hand across her hips, a calculating gleam in his eyes. “You are small-boned, but you have wide hips—”

“Wide
hips?” she repeated indignantly.

“Very sexy hips, I might add.”

She grinned, satisfied.

“Childbearing hips, nonetheless.” He blocked her playful punch. “You will bear me many children.” he said smugly, covering her body with his. “Three, you say? Bah! Eight at the very least. A veritable litter of squealing babes.” He rocked his hips against her and said, “Each and every one the result of my loyal husbandly duties.”

She took his earlobe in her teeth and tugged gently. “That was a very nineteenth-century thing to say.”

“I am a very nineteenth-century man.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, sighing as he settled his warm mouth over hers.

“I, Andrew Edward Spencer, take thee, Carly Ann Callahan, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. I promise to be faithful to you until death do us part.”

Carly tucked an errant flower into her hair. Then she tilted her chin up to gaze at Andrew, so handsome in his dark gray suit. His blue eyes glittered with emotion as he recited the vows.

“Do you, Carly Ann Callahan, take me . . . ?” he began.

Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks as the crowd of ex-pirates and villagers, children, dogs, and roosters looked on. The wedding was supposed to have been a symbolic ceremony between just the two of them. But Carly had told Maria about the plans, and it was one secret the woman refused to keep. Now, the entire village was gathered on the beach to watch the ceremony.