Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (17 page)

“Morgan!” Aidan called. “Captain Henry Morgan!”

“Aidan, get down!” Steele snarled. “Somebody get him down from there!”

He couldn’t swallow. Could hardly breathe. The other ship was coming around. In seconds they’d be at the mercy of its guns. What the hell was the boy thinking?

Smoky and Jacques were there, trying to pull him down. Smoky got a kick in the face for his efforts. Jacques grabbed the flag and after a brief tug-of-war, Aidan let it go. Jacques tumbled to the deck.

“Morgan! It’s Aidan, Luke Bradley’s son! We met in St. Kitts. You took me ’round the
Oxford
.”

Steele wasn’t waiting. He let go the wheel, grabbed the musket at his feet. If Aidan was too much a fool to save his own life, Steele would do it for him. He had the weapon in hand and he’d raised it to his shoulder when, to his utter shock, he heard an answering shout, “Luke Bradley’s boy?”

*

“Steele isn’t much
for people, is he?” Morgan asked.

“Not really,” Aidan answered. “Though he stayed ashore longer than I expected he would.”

Morgan chuckled around a mouth full of salmagundi, a rare treat Paddy had made up of meat, eggs, onions, and whatever else suited his fancy. “Thirty minutes is his breaking point?”

“Actually, thirty minutes is a record for him.” Aidan countered. He reached down, grabbed his cup off the powdery sand and drank deep of the rum Morgan had supplied. Both ships had contributed to the feast, but Aidan had to admit Morgan’s portion was far better, though the men scattered down the beach and around the fire weren’t complaining as they gorged themselves on salmagundi, Paddy’s famous turtle soup, and biscuits.

Aidan poked his stick into the coals. The embers flared red then simmered into a pulsing beat.

“If I was after a surprise attack,” Morgan said, continuing on about Steele’s absence, “I’d hardly have taken all my crew off the
Oxford
. Since we’re all here.” He gestured to the near seventy men ashore. “He has little to worry about.”

It was a fact Aidan couldn’t argue as he looked around. Groups had formed between the crews. A circle of about ten men played cards; a larger group drank companionably, telling stories. About two dozen more had set up a target against a tree and were taking turns hurling a dirk at it. Judging by the bottles of rum stuck in the sand at their feet, Aidan didn’t have to guess at what the wager was.

“He knows, or he wouldn’t have agreed to come back here.”

Morgan’s lips curled under his mustache. “The only reason he did was because I suggested throwing over the grappling hooks and coming aboard.” He chuckled as he stretched out his legs. “For a moment I thought he was going to use that musket.”

Aidan laughed, though he’d thought the same at the time. Despite the fact Morgan had ordered his crew to stand down and had stood as unarmed as Aidan had been, when Steele had come to stand at the gunwale he’d had his musket raised and ready.

“It made sense to come back since we’d left our supplies when we’d spotted your ship.”

“And it just so happened to be neutral territory. He’s smart, your Steele. He didn’t earn his reputation by chance.”

“No. No, he didn’t.” Aidan had liked Morgan the first time they’d met in St. Kitts, at Luke and Samantha’s shipyard.

He’d appreciated the man’s manner, smooth and polished, and had respected the way he’d treated Samantha as a lady. His impression went up another notch at Morgan’s assessment of Steele. It would be easy to see only Steele’s cool demeanor, as most did. It was a skill, Aidan had always believed, to look beyond the surface.

“You’re earning your own, son,” Morgan said. “Last time I saw Bradley he was bursting with pride talking of your skills as both a sailor and an archer. He and Samantha taught you well.”

“They taught me more than that,” he answered, his heart giving a little tug.

They weren’t his parents, but they’d taken him in as their own and loved him as though he was of their blood. They’d taught him everything. Not only about sailing but about loyalty, family, and love.

“Why is it, then, you don’t have a ship of your own? Luke and Samantha build the Caribbean’s finest. Surely you can have your choice?”

“I could, but I’m waiting for that one,” he said and pointed out to the shoals, where the
Revenge
rode at anchor, with the sunset colors spilling behind her; purples, blues, pinks and oranges. It had always been about the
Revenge
, and being Steele. He’d been too young before; he wasn’t now.

“You think he’ll ever give her up?” Morgan asked.

Steele was on deck, his forearms braced on the gunwale, his gaze on the beach. He looked exactly what he was, a solitary man. But suddenly another shadow appeared at his side. Grace. Not long after, Steele’s head turned toward the woman. For a moment Aidan watched them talk and his lips curved when they stepped away from the gunwale together.

“I think chances are good.” He grinned.

“’T
is sure I
am, I don’t need any tending. You could have stayed longer, enjoyed yourself.”

“If I wanted to be there, Grace, I would be,” Steele answered.

As responses went, it was a solid one, but it wasn’t believable. Not when his attention had yet to shift from the beach. Grace wouldn’t blame him for wanting to be part of the festivities. The laughter, the drink, the food, the camaraderie. If it weren’t a group of pirates partaking in it,
she’d
be tempted to join.

“Why don’t you want to go? You can hear the laughter as well as I can. Seems to me there’s more fun to be had over there than here.”

His head came around. “I don’t want you left alone and, as for taking you ashore, you know why I don’t want you there.”

“I’m not after being the only woman amongst a drunken crew of pirates, so ’tisn’t me I’m sorry for.” Though in truth, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for herself. Until Steele had rescued her, she hadn’t had any enjoyment since leaving Ireland. And while she wouldn’t argue she was glad he’d returned, she didn’t want to take this opportunity from him. “There’s no reason you can’t go enjoy yourself.” She urged.

“Someone has to remain clearheaded. Besides, it’s Aidan who enjoys the company, not me.”

“And you’ll indulge him and the crew, despite the fact you hate it?”

His gaze gave away nothing, as she was learning to expect from him, but his answer told her more, she was sure, than he wanted her to know.

“It’s not about me.” He responded. “Now let’s eat the soup Paddy brought over before it gets much colder.”

To save hauling dishes up and down they ate in the galley, in the glow of a single lantern. The soup was lukewarm but it didn’t stop either of them from having two bowls of it along with something Grace had never had before, salmagundi. Everything was delicious.

With the ship empty save themselves—even a wounded Pockets wouldn’t be kept from the fun—the only sounds were that of their breathing and the scrape of spoons against empty bowls. Without asking, Steele poured her more grog.

The intimacy of their situation wasn’t lost on Grace, and neither was the fact she wasn’t troubled by it. While she had no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with Steele, she could nevertheless enjoy the moment. She wasn’t working her fingers to the bone, wasn’t being ordered about, her life wasn’t in danger, and she wasn’t in hiding. She was enjoying a quiet meal with a man who intrigued her.

He was different from most of the men she’d met over her twenty-three years. Those she’d been able to identify easily; braggart, liar, cheater, thief, soldier, coward, villain. Usually after a glance, occasionally taking as long as a few minutes, she had a man’s measure. But she didn’t have Steele’s.

When she’d first seen those cold eyes and thick beard she’d thought, pirate. And yet, at almost every turn, his actions belied what she believed a pirate to be. What Roche was. Steele wasn’t mean; he wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t unnecessarily rough and forceful. He not only listened, he took into consideration his crew’s wants and needs. Even if it wasn’t what he himself wanted or needed.

He’d said it wasn’t about him.

“Who is it about?” she asked, pushing her empty bowl aside.

Steele went completely still. His cup stopped midway to his mouth.

After a moment, he lowered it. “Who is what about?”

“You said it wasn’t about you. If you’re not doing it for yourself, who would you be doing it for?”

“You’re referring to the men out there?” he said, speaking of his crew on the beach.

“Aye.”

“If you recall, the plan was to have some time to swim and to have supper ashore. Morgan’s arrival simply delayed things a few hours. Once Aidan convinced me Morgan wasn’t a threat, I saw no need to abandon the plan.”

“Why not?”

His forehead furrowed. “Because we had to come back for the supplies left when we thought Morgan an enemy. Besides, the men were looking forward to a night of fun.”

“
You
weren’t.” She reminded him.

“It’s not—” He stopped, caught.

“It’s not about you. Aye, so you’ve said. I’m beginning to think none of this is about you.”

His eyes darkened. He pushed away from the table, rose to his feet. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He marched from the room and up the stairs to the main deck.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Grace muttered.

Taking the lantern she followed him. They hadn’t been below long, but it had darkened considerably in that time. The burst of sunset colors had faded to deep purples and indigos. Stars were beginning to fill the sky. The moon glowed from the heavens. On the beach the fire was now the size of a barrel. Flames speared upward; sparks exploded and fizzled. The men’s voices were louder with the drink, and their singing and dancing rolled down the beach and across the water. Grace shuddered when a drunken sailor wove a little too close to the fire. She thought she recognized Aidan steering the man in the other direction. Like his captain, Aidan took care.

She found Steele exactly where she’d anticipated she would, behind the wheel on the quarterdeck.

Hanging the lantern on the perch which was usually reserved for Carracks—Aidan had taken him ashore—Grace took a seat on the same chair she used when they were underway. He didn’t acknowledge she’d followed him.

“If you were hoping I’d give up simply because you walked away, you don’t know the Irish very well.”

With the ship at anchor Steele, could only pretend he was busy for so long. Turning, he leaned against the wheel, crossed his arms over his chest. His white shirt was open to mid-chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows. With dusk adding shadows to his face, he certainly looked a pirate. But she was beginning to think it was all a ruse.

“Why do you pirate? ’Tis clear to anyone who takes the time to look ’tisn’t in your heart.”

“And what would you know of it?”

“Roche’s eyes gleamed with hunger. He loved the brutality, the thieving. He didn’t care about his crew, he only cared about himself.”

Steele angled his head toward shore. “Morgan’s crew doesn’t fear him.”

“No, they don’t seem to. But he’s with them, isn’t he? And you told me he was as anxious as his men to go ashore.”

“And because I’m not there I mustn’t enjoy piracy? That’s foolish logic.”

“There’s more. Roche reveled in instilling fear and pain. Morgan is enjoying himself with his crew. You only have to look at Aidan to see he loves everything about being here. But you? You don’t smile; you don’t ever look happy.” She came to her feet, stepped closer. “You aren’t here for your men, but you are here for someone. Who is it?”

His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. “I’m here for myself.”

He tried to slip between her and the wheel, but she caught his arm. In a move she never expected, he pivoted, grabbed her shoulders. Before she could catch her breath she had the wheel at her back and the length of his body pressing against hers.

“Don’t push, Grace. You may not like the results.”

Considering every part of her body had come alive at his touch, she wasn’t nearly as sure as he sounded.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Yet she was a little afraid of herself and her feelings for him.

His hands were firm on her shoulders; she felt each finger on her flesh. Flesh which trembled beneath him. His body…

She swallowed. His body exuded more heat than the fire roaring on the beach.

His eyes went dark as the sky above them. “Maybe you should be.”

“You’d never hurt me.”

“Then why is your heart pounding?”

Because I’ve never felt this way with a man. Because I don’t know what’s going on in me own body any longer. Because even carrying another man’s child, I want you to touch me.

Where had this need come from? With Roche, she’d been terrified. She’d cried and screamed only to lay broken and ashamed afterward. She’d soon learned to take her mind elsewhere lest she break into tiny pieces. But this, this was so much different. She
felt
Steele everywhere, from his strong thighs, to the solid wall of his chest. To the length of his arousal pressing intimately against her.