Chapter Six
The thrill of the hunt never grew old.
Wind tugged at Christian’s hat, threatening to send it into the waves below.
The Falcon cut through the swells with grace as she closed in on the vessel ahead of them.
He raised his spyglass once more, squinting at the ship.
A brigantine. Same type as the one the fire-haired wench captained, but there was no way to know for sure it was her. Not until they got closer.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Isaac came to a stop next to him and Christian shot him a scowl.
“Don’t start that again.”
Isaac shrugged. “And what if it’s a trap?”
Christian thought of the exchange he’d had with the scraggly boy one week earlier.
At first, he’d scoffed at the whelp’s insistence that he knew where she would be.
The reward had brought forth all manners of unprovable claims. Christian had ordered him tossed back out onto the street, unwilling to listen.
Until the boy had pulled out a black leather mask.
The child refused to tell how he’d come across the info and, when Christian gave him his reward, had run like the hounds of hell were after him. Christian’s men had followed the boy to no avail and the brat lost them among the warehouses lining the docks.
Christian tugged his hat down. “We’ve got at least a dozen guns on that ship.”
Isaac gave him a sideways glance. “That didn’t stop her last time.”
Christian growled and shoved the spyglass at Isaac. He stalked to the wheel.
“Ready the cannons.” A flurry of activity filled the deck as his men followed the order. “And set extra sails. She’s not getting away this time.”
Isaac chuckled from the railing and lowered the spyglass. “No need. Looks like your prey is going to meet us.”
Christian narrowed his eyes and strode to where his friend stood. He yanked the glass back. Sure enough, the brigantine had done an about-turn and pointed straight their way. His pulse jumped. It was her.
It had to be.
He stood there as the distance closed between the ships.
And when he raised the spyglass once more, his breath caught.
Hair streaming behind her in the wind, she stood at the forecastle.
A jolt of awareness surged through him. Her spyglass was trained directly on him. She lowered it and gave a jaunty wave.
“Damnation,” he muttered, spinning to Isaac. “She knew we were coming.”
Isaac shot him a knowing look. “What are your orders?”
“Load the guns. If she tries anything, we take her out.”
He turned his attention back to the approaching ship. The wench had disappeared and he crossed his arms. If she meant to hide from him, he would tear the vessel apart until he found her. He’d have his justice if it was the last thing he did.
The ship neared enough for him to assess the threat. Three dozen men above decks. No cannons visible. He frowned. No weapons at all.
The men’s faces were disguised with leather masks, same as before, and he remembered the frightening speed at which they’d breached his defenses last time. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again.
“Heave to,” he ordered. By the time the sails were lowered, the pirate ship had already done the same and crept toward them at a crawl. Her crew had them beat with their efficiency.
Christian rapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword. What would he do with her? His scalp prickled, and he pushed his unease away. He’d worry about that once she was safely locked away in the brig.
Silence fell over both crews as the ships drew alongside each other. The older man who had presented himself as captain last time stood at the wheel, his face like stone.
Christian left the quarterdeck and strode toward the bow. “Surrender now and the charges you face might allow you to escape the noose.”
The man didn’t move, other than to clench his fists at his side. Christian lifted a brow. The pirate was livid. Before he could ponder why, Isaac’s shout rose from the quarterdeck.
“Behind you!”
The sing of a rope through the air preceded a thump on the deck and he drew his sword as he spun to face his attacker.
“What the . . .” His breath hissed out. Where the hell had she been hiding?
Her eyes glinted from behind the black mask hiding her face and his gaze raked over her.
The shock of seeing a woman in breeches had not lessened and his throat suddenly went dry.
They clung to shapely legs and left nothing to the imagination.
The top three buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned, leaving a scandalous “V” of skin bared on her chest that her jacket did little to hide.
Desire shot through him, hard and hot. He swallowed as a wave of heat coursed through his veins. God above, he was attracted to her. His lips settled into a scowl. Unacceptable.
It had to be the breeches.
What red-blooded man wouldn’t react like this to those legs? That shapely bottom on display for all to see? With a cough, he raised his gaze. She’d tied her hair into a haphazard braid and a black hat pressed low over the coppery locks. A single red feather jutted from it.
She shifted on her feet and gave a pointed look at his blade. He blinked at her empty hands and his gaze flew to her belt. No sword.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he growled.
The wench had the audacity to laugh. “In my experience, men who make such a blatant show of force are compensating for something else entirely.”
One of his men snickered. Surely she wasn’t insinuating . . .
He stared at her and she gestured over her shoulder to the dozen muskets pointed their way.
“Lower your damn rifles.” Isaac’s voice snapped the men from their shock and a smug grin crossed her lips.
“I have a proposal for you.” She slid her gaze down to his feet and back. “That is, unless you’d prefer to run me through.”
He lowered his sword. “You’re in no position to offer me anything.”
Her laugh came again, echoing from the sails above. “I beg to differ.”
She nodded toward her ship and he let out a curse. While his idiot men had been staring at the scene she caused, her crew had not wasted the opportunity. Muskets had materialized out of thin air and hatches on the lower deck now hung open to reveal a row of gleaming cannons.
Impressive.
He grunted. “We have twice as many guns as you. There’s no way you would win.”
And thank heavens the men at his cannons hadn’t lost their minds like the others. They stood rigid at their posts, staring down the length of their iron barrels. One word from him and they would rain destruction.
“Maybe not. But we would certainly get a good bit of damage of our own in before you claimed victory.” She grinned. “Are you willing to risk it?”
He should call her bluff. But instead, Christian watched the rise and fall of her chest for the space of a few breaths, then inclined his head. “What is it you want?”
She hooked her thumbs in her belt and met his gaze. “One match. You and me.”
He stiffened. “A foolish proposal. And what, may I ask, is your price?”
“Immunity.”
He recoiled. “You cannot imagine I’d offer that.”
She shrugged, but the tightness in her shoulders gave away her nervousness. If he refused, she and her crew would be his prisoners in a matter of minutes. He took a step toward her and she lifted her chin a notch.
He leaned in to deny her once more.
A mistake.
She smelled of lemons and rosemary.
Her breath hitched, and the tiny sound sent awareness coursing through him. And then, he made a bigger mistake.
“I accept.”
Her shoulders loosened. “And your terms?”
Christian took a step back. “I want my compass back.”
She laughed again, the rich sound caressing him. “Come now, Lieutenant, surely my immunity is worth more than a measly old compass.” Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him with an intense look. “What do you really want? Is there nothing else you wish to take from me?”
Your freedom. You and your crew, prisoners of the US government.
He should say it. It’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?
Because no matter how the match ended, it would culminate with her locked up.
He wasn’t playing any games. As a lieutenant, he would do his duty.
Isaac’s warning played at the edges of his mind.
If he captured her . . . when he captured her, she would face the noose.
A vision of a rope around her slender neck hit him like a brick to the gut and an acrid taste filled his mouth.
The wind shifted, sending an errant strand of hair dancing across her cheek and her citrusy scent washed over him again. He rocked back on his heels and met her gaze.
“You’re right. There is something else I want.”
Copper brows arched from behind her mask. “Go on then.”
He let his lips turn up in a roguish grin. “A night with you.”
She sucked in a breath and her eyes flashed—a ripple of blue and green escaping the shadows so effortlessly hiding her face. Chuckles came from his men.
“Captain.”
The gruff warning came from her ship and the older man strode to the railing. His face had gone red. Christian’s gaze flicked between the two of them and his stomach twisted. Were they lovers?
The way the man looked ready to commit murder certainly suggested it. Christian couldn’t help the scowl that pushed forth. No. That man must be three times her age. Her father, then?
She kept her eyes on Christian, ignoring the distraction. “A night with me? Impossible.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”
She turned into the sun and something else entered her eyes.
Fear.
The first vulnerability she’d shown thus far.
Good God, what had overcome him? A night with her? A pirate? He nearly laughed. A navy man on assignment, he had no business sleeping with the enemy. He opened his mouth to take it back, but her soft words cut him off.
“Very well.”
An awed murmur swept through her crew. They hadn’t expected her to agree.
She spun back to him. “Let’s get this over with.”