Chapter 10
It’s him.
Heather’s heart slammed against her ribs, her pulse drumming in her ears and throbbing at her throat as she stared at Percy’s bared skin.
It may have been dark, but she’d seen those tattoos before—the anchor and rope that stretched across his broad, muscular chest and abdomen, surrounded by swallows in flight.
And when he’d turned around that night, the moonlight had clearly delineated a skull and bones, inked over the entirety of his back…
Indeed, she would recognize them anywhere.
Heat suffused her cheeks, even while a cold chill raced down her spine. Did Percy know? If he didn’t, surely she must tell him… Her heart hiccoughed, and her stomach grew fraught with nerves.
Hell’s teeth, she’d had sex with Percy.
As though he’d heard her thoughts, his gaze swung to meet hers over his shoulder.
And it was there, in the heat of his dark glance, the way his gaze dipped to her toes and raked up her body, as though seeing through her clothes to the blushing skin beneath.
The cad. Her inner muscles clenched as though in memory of their tryst, and she cursed her body’s reaction.
The blackguard had known all this time, and he’d said nothing to her! While the opportunities hadn’t been plentiful, they’d spoken privately several times over the past weeks, and yet he’d said naught. Why?
He broke their heated stare with a wink, and to Heather’s irritation, warmth gathered at the apex of her thighs.
To her credit, the man was decidedly stunning in the midday sun, his suntanned skin glistening from the exertion of battle and his muscles bunched with tension, as though prepared for attack. Blimey.
No, Heather! He lied to you, drat it.
Indeed. She ought to be displeased. A sigh escaped her, and the tension that had suddenly gathered in her shoulders eased a little. His revealing the truth would have served little purpose. She’d gotten what she’d wanted: an anonymous tryst at a masquerade.
“Now—and only now—will I give you a choice,” Percy boomed. “The pirates that don’t wish to sail under my command may leave. And any of Sir Willard’s crew that wish to join mine may do so now.”
Both crews were captivated by Percy’s speech, their eyes wide with a mix of astonishment and horror. He’d implied the men would know him as Percival Baxter, and while she’d been made aware of his prior position at sea, Heather failed to comprehend the significance of the announcement.
There was a low murmur from the men before Percy’s voice cut it off. “But…if I hear even a breath of mutiny, I’ll slit your fucking throats.”
A shiver raced up Heather’s spine despite the heat of the sun.
Many of the earl’s men and the naval crew had perished or been gravely injured in battle. They neither had a captain nor a first mate, and those who remained were outnumbered and overwhelmed. Heather’s stomach gave another sharp twist. So many lives lost.
“Make your choice!” Percy hollered. “And when you have, go down to the hold and retrieve their stores. They have another ship coming with additional supplies.” He paused. “And do not forget the plants! But, for Lucifer’s sake, be careful with them.”
To her amazement, men—even several members of the other crew—began shuffling toward the companionway on the other ship.
“What in the bloody hell is this?” The earl emerged from the companionway, his eyes narrowed and blinking. He took in the bodies and blood, and his features grew yet more stormy.
One of the surviving officers stepped forward and informed him of what just transpired.
The earl’s outraged glare swung toward Heather and intensified.
“I should think not! Return to the Sapphire at once! These men will handle matters. We’ve another frigate on the way.
” His voice carried across the narrow distance between the two ships, and Heather’s abdomen quivered instinctively in response.
“And I’ll not have our stores emptied, blast it!” the earl blustered.
“You haven’t the choice,” Percy called to the man. “You’ve no need of such largesse, and if your remaining crew wish to join me, then so must their share of your hold.”
The Earl of Shite’s face reddened in his fury. “Who are you to speak to me in this way, to demand these things? I ought to—”
“Percival Baxter,” Percy said from beside her.
Shock jolted through Heather as the earl’s complexion grew pallid. He turned his fearful gaze on her.
“Come with me this instant, Calluna,” he said, with a quaver to his voice.
What am I missing?
Heather shook herself. Swift thinking and decisiveness were required of her, so she’d best not tarry. Thus far she’d been unsuccessful in apprehending the earl. No path before her would see her fulfilling her assignment directly or easily.
If she remained with the earl, she would undoubtedly be imprisoned on the other frigate, which would see her to the Americas to be wed to the bastard before she returned to England to present her evidence against him—all without Percy’s aid.
She could impress upon Percy the importance of taking the earl with them and holding him in the brig.
But that would likely see them pursued across the ocean by the captain of the following ship—and very possibly yet more navy frigates geared and ready to engage in battle.
Why, the earl himself had boasted about a member of the royal family arranging his safe passage.
Until Heather could provide proof of treason, the earl was protected.
And his royal connection no doubt harboured a special interest in the security of those documents.
Alas, the man to whom she would have presented the proof was now deceased.
Another—and decidedly more appealing—option was to simply join Percy on the pirate ship in the hope that she could hasten back home.
Exposing the earl’s treason before he returned from the Americas would allow time for the magistrate and his men to prepare for the earl’s capture upon reaching the Pool of London.
First, however, she must ensure that her ties to the earl as his affianced were severed. A comfortable solution, that would both see her securely away from the earl and dissuade the pirates from pursuing her, appeared in her mind with complete clarity.
Low groaning came from a number of the injured men on the Sapphire, but their cries and pleas went unheeded.
She stepped closer to the bulwark as a gust of warm wind ruffled her hair and tugged at her bloodstained skirts. “No. I cannot marry you.”
The earl’s face reddened once more, and he clenched his fists. “You will do so, or I shall tell your family what you’ve done. I shall inform the ton! You will be disgraced! You will—”
Heather’s body moved before she could think better of it. She pivoted on the ball of one foot and pulled Percy into her arms. He gave a surprised grunt as she pressed her body flush against his, surged up on her toes, and took his lips with hers.
Delicious heat tingled down Percy’s spine to curve snugly around his cods as Heather wrapped herself around him. Her tongue gently prodded his lips, and he opened eagerly for her, returning the kiss with fervour.
His hands fisted the material of her frock, pulling her tighter against him. His pulse sped as their tongues clashed. A moan escaped her, and she thrust her hips against his hardening cock. A responding groan vibrated in his chest.
But just as quickly as the kiss began, it ended, leaving him winded and entirely bemused.
He blinked dazedly at her before she gave him a wink and turned to face her intended. Fuck. Percy wanted her to do that again but in a decidedly more private locale. Christ knew what message such a display had sent to the pirates about her potential availability. He couldn’t let that stand.
“I shall not be made a cuckold! Get back to this ship right now, Calluna! I have our marriage licence. I could have the captain—er, the other captain—marry us directly!” the earl shouted, his wrinkled face turning purple in his outrage.
Percy put a hand to her back and brushed his lips to her ear, ignoring the flutter of his pulse. “Stand firm. You’re doing well, Heather.”
“We mustn’t bring him with us and risk pursuit,” she whispered back. “If we reach London before the earl—”
“Yes,” he said. “But first, I must secure my place among these men or risk murder or mutiny. And we need to establish your character as one on which these pirates mustn’t prey.”
Satisfied by her small nod, Percy resumed his focus on the Sapphire.
“This is mutiny!” the earl blustered, as men marched past, their arms laden with items from the hold. “Put that back! Those are my—”
Percy’d had enough. “Bind the earl,” he called. “Be sure to clear the magazine and armoury, but leave the earl’s wardrobe. Collect abandoned weaponry and ammunition and, for God’s sake, raid the cabins.”
He couldn’t risk the earl knowing the documents were on the pirate ship, or hell would be on their tails. The blackguard’s wardrobe—crates of boots included—must remain with the earl.
“Aye, Cap’n,” several of the pirates replied in chorus.
A jolt of pride, followed by a swift thread of panic, burst behind Percy’s ribs, and he gritted his teeth and nodded. He couldn’t—bloody well couldn’t—be pulled into the ocean life again, regardless of how the pirates’ piety made him feel.
I killed Butcher. The panic in his chest swelled. Fuck.
“Y’want us t’kill ’im, Cap’n?” one of the crew asked.
Percy gave a sharp shake of his head. “No. That won’t be necessary.” He wasn’t the pirate they thought he was. Not anymore.
A noise of agitation came from beside him, and Percy turned toward the source. Heather’s gaze was fixed on the Sapphire, her brow furrowed in concern and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
He followed her line of sight to several pirates carrying wilting potted plants across the deck. They were in a sorry state, indeed.
“What environment would be best for their revival?” he asked in an undertone.