Chapter Two
Samantha’s lungs burned and her arm threatened to give out. But she held her blade steady until the lieutenant shouted the order to stand down. One by one, swords dropped to the deck and her men gathered the defeated crew together.
The young lieutenant kept his gaze locked on her through it all. Chestnut curls had come loose from his tie and clung to his face while gold-flecked green eyes bore into her.
If looks could kill . . .
She swallowed and broke the eye contact when two of her men tied his hands behind his back. Sheathing her sword, she surveyed the main deck. Her gaze landed on a dead man on the main deck and she pivoted away. But two more bodies lay within her sight and bile burned a path up her throat.
Griff limped over to her. “Your orders, Captain?” His eyes gleamed with an emotion she couldn’t place. And he’d accentuated the title captain as if it were an insult. Was he angry?
She drew in a breath. “Bring the wounded back to the ship. That includes you. The rest of you, take anything of value from our new friends.”
Bending, she retrieved her hat and ignored the weight of the lieutenant’s eyes on her back.
Some of her crew descended into the ship to scout out what they could, while others gathered the weapons laying scattered across the Falcon’s deck.
When the last of the crates and barrels were shuttled over to the Siren, she raised her face to the sails, glowing with the orange hues of sunset.
“Bring them down.”
A few men scurried up the masts, daggers clutched between their teeth.
Each slash of ropes and canvas made her flinch.
It could easily have been her ship receiving this treatment.
She could order their spare sails dumped into the sea.
But that would truly cripple the Falcon, and she wasn’t heartless.
It would take them half a day to refit the sails and her crew would be nearly back to Savannah by then.
One of her men approached her. “The lieutenant’s quarters are locked, Capt’n.”
She swiveled to face Lieutenant Thompson, who still glared at her. His gaze slid down to her feet and back to her face. A prickle of unease swept through her. It was as if he could see right through her mask. She swallowed. Nonsense.
“Search his pockets.” Her voice cracked and she straightened her spine when his gaze sharpened.
When a key was produced, she arched a brow. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”
He growled his dissent in the back of his throat, but one of her men pressed a dagger between his shoulders and he lurched into motion.
They descended the stairs to the main deck and came to a stop in front of an ornately carved door below the quarterdeck.
She nodded to the sailor with the key. He slid it into the lock and the door swung open.
Samantha waved the lieutenant through. “After you.”
Her eyes roamed his quarters and she blinked. Not a single item out of place.
“Secure him to the chair.” She pointed toward his desk, immaculate and polished to a sheen, and her men dragged him over.
When he was bound, she strolled around the room.
Her fingertips drifted across the spines of nautical books and charts housed in his bookshelf.
Crisp sheets, folded in perfect creases, draped his bed.
She opened his wardrobe and a row of neatly starched uniforms greeted her.
Her hand lingered on a pair of soft white breeches and heat blossomed on her cheeks at the thought of how this very fabric would stretch tight over his muscles.
She yanked the hand back. “I must say, Lieutenant, I’m dismayed to find little of value here.”
He pressed his lips together and Samantha drifted to his desk. She slid a drawer open and riffled through a stack of parchment. A dagger with a ruby embedded in the hilt lay beneath the papers and she flipped it through her fingers.
“Is this where you slit my throat with my own blade?”
Her head fell back and she laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber. She pocketed the dagger and closed the space between them. “My dear lieutenant, what a vivid imagination you possess.”
Her hand lifted to his face and she stroked his jawline, rough stubble grazing her palm and sending a prickling heat up her arm. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we are much less barbaric than that.”
He jerked from her touch and she glanced down at the desk. A wrinkle marred the map laid out on it, prompting her to reach out and smooth it. When her fingers brushed the heft of a compass, his eyes darkened.
Something of value.
She lifted it and examined the tarnished brass with a frown. Quite plain for a commanding lieutenant. With a toss, it sailed into the air and the corded muscles in his forearms bunched. Definitely valuable to him, though.
A worn inscription scrawled across the back:
E.L. Thompson
1701
An antique.
“Leave it. It’s worthless to you.”
She clenched her fingers around it. “I rather like it.”
With a smug smile, she pivoted and walked away. The chair rattled as he fought his bonds.
“You’ll pay for this, wench.” Disgust dripped from his words.
Her teeth clenched at the insult, and she turned back to him. With a smirk, she waved the compass in front of her. “On the contrary. It looks like you’re the one who’s paid, Lieutenant.”
With a quick nod from her, the man closest to Lieutenant Thompson slammed the hilt of his sword against the Lieutenant’s temple. He slumped forward and she left the room.
Activity had ceased on the main deck and most of her men were back aboard the Siren, preparing her to sail. Griff had not returned and stood near the group of men tied up on the Falcon’s deck. One man wore a nicer uniform than the rest. The first officer.
He was young, with dark sandy blonde hair tied in a messy queue. Not as tall, or muscular, as the lieutenant. Not that that mattered. She shook her head and approached him.
“Did you kill him?” He blurted the words out when she came to a stop in front of him. His blue eyes shone bright, and he shifted from foot to foot.
“Though he expected me to slit his throat, I’m sorry to have disappointed him.”
His face softened while his shoulders slumped. “Thank you.”
She shrugged and her knee dropped to the deck as she reached for his boot. When her fingers brushed his calf, he stiffened. The hilt of a dagger poked above the opening of his boot and she plucked it free.
“You should do a better job hiding your weapon.” Color rose to his cheeks while she twirled the blade. “Now, promise you’ll be good and won’t try to do anything heroic?”
His brows pressed together and she pressed the blade to the ropes binding him. When they fell away, he stood still. She flipped the blade around and handed it to him. By the time he released half his men, her ship would be well out of cannon range.
She gave a little curtsy. “Please forgive me for saying this, but I hope we never meet again.”
He didn’t answer and she turned to follow Griff to the railing.
“Captain?”
She swiveled back with a raised brow.
“You do know, he’ll make you wish you’d killed him?”
She laughed. “I look forward to it.”
Once Samantha’s boots landed on the Siren, her shoulders curved inward.
Being on the Falcon, facing the lieutenant had taken more out of her than she could have ever expected.
She fought to take normal breaths as Griff gave the order to sail and took his place at the helm.
Once the wind filled the sails, she approached him.
He stared out to sea. “You disobeyed a direct order.”
“What was I supposed to do? Let him kill you?” Her nails bit into the tender skin of her palms.
“If it came down to it, yes.”
“Griff, if I hadn’t stepped in when I did, you’d be dead, and the rest of us would be prisoners.”
He swung to face her. “What is the penalty for not heeding a captain’s orders?”
Samantha’s throat went dry. “Twenty lashes.” Griff stared down at her and she pushed the toe of her boot against the deck. “If that’s what this is about, I will gladly take them.”
She’d never been allowed to witness the infrequent but brutal punishments. But by God, if that’s what it took to earn respect, she would take a hundred.
“Your uncle would have my skin if I harmed you. Whenever you’ve sailed under me, I’ve never shown you any special favor. How do you think this looks to the other men? This little game of yours is over, Miss Warstein. For the rest of this trip, you will address me as your captain.”
Coldness laced his words and she took a step back. “I did what I had to. Don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he pointed to the main deck, where two bodies lay draped in spare sails.
Samantha blanched.
Those men had died because of her choice.
“The sea is no place for a woman. No matter what your uncle thinks. I was foolish to agree to go along with his request.”
Samantha dragged her eyes from the felled men and faced Griff. “I take responsibility for their deaths and will make sure their families are taken care of. They won’t want for a thing.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel and he pressed his eyes closed. “The responsibility is mine alone. I allowed the raid and they died under my command.”
Her gaze dropped to where his bloodied shirt stuck to the gash in his side. “You need to bandage that, Captain.”
“’Tis but a scratch.” He let out a long sigh. “While I appreciate your heroics today, it was a reckless decision. That very well could be your body lying there.”
It was as close to a thank you as she would get. She pulled her shoulders back. “It was the right choice.”
“We will let your uncle make that call. You are dismissed.”
Samantha wanted to keep arguing, but several of the men had drawn near with ears conveniently turned their way. She swallowed her pride. “Yes, sir.”
Head held high, she retreated to her cabin. The door slammed behind her with a loud bang and she stalked to the window. Reckless indeed.
She’d turned the tide to win the fight and Griff responded by demoting her. A growl rumbled in the back of her throat and she kicked at a rumpled blanket at her feet. She’d bested Lieutenant Thompson. A feared and hated pirate hunter. No one else could say the same.
Even when she did everything right, it wasn’t good enough.
The sea is no place for a woman.
How many times had she heard those words? They made her skin crawl. Made her want to throw things.
Just because she’d been born the fairer sex, everyone had been loath to give her the chance to prove herself.
Even though she’d worked as hard as the other sailors.
She’d fought tooth and nail to get her uncle to allow her this practice run.
It had taken years of pleading her case, of proving herself capable on the decks, before he took her seriously.
Griff called it a game. This was her life.
She strode to the open window with a scowl.
Surely, the great lieutenant hadn’t had trouble getting his foot in the door.
Everyone worshiped the ground he walked on.
One of the youngest lieutenants, they’d entrusted him with a coveted frigate—a ship usually reserved for seasoned officers.
With the navy’s real captains off fighting the war in Tripoli, the governor had seen fit to hand the ship to a wealthy Yankee who had yet to earn such status.
Now she really wanted to throw something. She could probably command his ship as well as he could. Maybe even better. But she was a woman. So, no one would let her see that potential.
Her fingers gripped the smooth wood on the windowsill and her vision wavered.
Would she ever gain respect? Even if she got her own ship, her own crew, people would still scoff at her.
Never mind there had been great female pirates a century before.
Had the legendary Caribbean pirate Anne Bonny faced the same disillusionment as she had?
Leaning into the warm night air, she closed her eyes.
She’d thought she had it all figured out.
Do a good job, gain her uncle’s approval, captain her own ship.
Take control of her destiny. Earlier, it had seemed so close.
Now, impossibly far away. She’d lost her course.
Like a ship with no sails adrift at sea, waiting for help that would never come.
Her eyes jerked open. Being melodramatic wouldn’t solve anything.
Still, a heavy weight pressed on her shoulders.
On shore, she had no one she could relate to.
Even her best friend, Abigail, had no inkling of Samantha’s dreams. On the ship, her crew followed her directions, but she was the boss’s niece. They didn’t have a choice.
God, was she being naive? Did she have any chance at all? Would she ever captain her own ship?
She took a deep breath. No need to get worked up about it. Not until she spoke with her uncle.
Besides, she had a bigger problem.
Arms crossed, she stared out at the silhouette of the Falcon as it grew smaller on the horizon.
Her hand dipped into her pocket to touch the warm brass there.
With a grimace, she pulled the compass free and set it next to her prize conch.
It had been a foolish move, to take something of sentimental value from the lieutenant.
In the silence of the cabin, her gut twisted as his first officer’s words echoed in her mind.
He’ll make you wish you’d killed him.
Caught up in the thrill of victory, she’d made a grave misstep. Stepping back, she closed the window and leaned her head against it. She’d broken an important rule: Never goad your enemy.