My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1)

MY BONNY HEART

Pirate’s Progeny: Book One

SYNCLAIR STAFFORD

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

MY BONNY HEART

Copyright©2016

SYNCLAIR STAFFORD

Cover Design by Victoria Vane

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-68291-100-6

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Evie, Raquel, and Mira:

You’ve inspired my happily ever after.

Always keep going.

Your dreams can come true . . .

Acknowledgements

My editor, Janet Clementz, and Soul Mate Publishing for believing in Anne’s story and bringing it to beautiful, roaring life. You’ve guided me through a whirlwind process and made my dreams a reality.

My own personal cheer squad: Kathy Armstrong, Erin Birkhimer, and Jennifer Chambers, thank you for the endless encouragement and pushing me to continue to write ‘The End.’

My extraordinary daughters: Evie, Raquel, and Mira. I now know the true meaning of a mother’s love, and have three reasons for persevering against all odds.

My husband, Terry, who never stopped believing in me, loving me, and building up my confidence during the process of finishing this book.

My parents, Michael and Brenda, for indulging in my independent, wild spirit, and giving me their wonderful and creative genes.

Chapter 1

May 1721

Anne’s limited options churned through her head.

Mary had died in childbirth. Jack’s bones rotted in the ground. And, she remained confined to the dingy Port Royal Gaol surround by the sea. Survival was second nature to her, but a foolproof means of freedom eluded her.

The sun had receded hours ago. But, even deep beneath the ground in the island’s cavernous jail, the thick, muggy heat penetrated like a dense fog. Pacing the small area in despair, her son’s whimpering cry echoed somewhere above the dark, musty cell.

The wail of a second infant added to the noise reverberating through the night. Tense moments passed and both babies quieted. She stopped in mid-stride, inhaling. The air crackled with heat as she waited. Their cries began anew, and she exhaled with relief.

Every night she spent thusly, distressed one of them would cease to breathe, and she down below with no way to forestall such a tragedy.

She knew this was yet another form of punishment from her jailers. The bastards had refused her any added boons, believing her dire circumstances well-deserved for cheating the noose.

She longed to hold her own child, and Mary’s child, and nurse them to comfort.

Many, many months had come and gone since she’d escaped the sentence to hang by her neck until dead. She had plenty of time to dwell on her past mistakes, but she’d surmised doing that would get her absolutely nowhere.

Yet, old tears still welled up behind her lashes—the ol’ ‘feeling-sorry-for-herself’ kind. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks, and the memories, with a quick brush of the back of her knuckles. It was the best she could do at the moment. The cell bars before her were cool to the touch, and she leaned her warm forehead against them to ease the tautness of her body.

She blew a ragged breath through parched lips as her shoulders sagged, easing the tension there, somewhat.

Never again would she allow a man to determine her fate or happiness.

Two facts remained clear. Her current predicament came about by way of an infatuation with the wrong man. And, the reason she’d begun a sordid career over three years ago stemmed from that same fascination.

She’d allowed previous lovers to cloud her judgment. Blaming them now did her no good. The fact of the matter was, she was a strong-minded woman, and those decisions were her own. Her heart just played an unfortunate role. She should have trusted her head.

More important players relied on her now: the two infants who were now in her charge, so to speak. She’d promised Mary she would raise her daughter. Her son deserved to thrive in the sun.

Continuing behind these bars would make that a difficult vow to manage.

Her hands curled around the bars in a tight grasp. Whatever the consequence, she’d make good her promises. Plead with her jailers, beg, until those babes were in her arms. Once she’d earned the privilege of caring for them, she’d work on leaving this hovel.

The infants above continued to whimper as Anne remembered specific oaths to her dying friend. She'd promised little Frederica would live outside this prison, and she’d never become a pirate like her mother.

The echo of footsteps down the corridor pricked her ears. Anne sucked in a breath and held it, hoping the noise would fade, telling her the person went in the other direction. Instead, the sound grew louder.

A shadow moved into the hallway with the dim light of a flickering candle, as the footsteps continued to move forward. Her heart pounded double-time. At last, a large, muscular man with a bald head stopped before the bars. He held a lantern illuminating the cell and all the surrounding area. The light near touched the ceiling with the height of the bearer. He was tall, and quite dangerous to behold. The smell of sweat and soil filled her nostrils.

Anne blinked as he peered into the cell. His eyes were a crystal, clear blue, with bushy black eyebrows that made them appear a sparkling blue even in the dim light. The man might have been twice her own age. He stared as if deciding what to do with her.

She lifted her chin and gave him a narrowed stare which she hoped portrayed how hard she would fight him, if need be. If he could hear the terrifying way her heart pounded, he would know the inkling of fear she felt. They stared one another down for another agonizing second. He nodded and placed a large, tanned finger to his lips, shushing any sound she might feel compelled to make.

What the devil?

Anne waited, unsure. The man then placed the lantern on the floor before him and began fishing around in one of his pockets. As her heart fluttered a staccato beat, he pulled out a single key.

Would he try to have his way with her? He was not right in the head if he thought she would be quiet for that. One fellow had attempted it before. He hadn't come away from the attack feeling too pleased, or without a hefty scar to show for it. Even so, eyeing the large man again, she swallowed hard. He might not be as easy to overtake as the last fellow. The thick, hairy forearms led to even larger biceps that strained against the rolled up dark shirt he wore. Corded muscles bulged near his neck, and the breadth of his shoulders could carry the weight of ten of her.

Anne backed away from the cell door as he inserted the key. The familiar click as the door unlocked rattled her nerves. He swung the door open with a slow motion, and the small creak made her spine stiffen. Alarm prickled the hairs on the nape of her neck, and she could not help the trembling of her entire body as he stepped forward into the cell. The size of the small space immediately lessened with the hulking form now within the cell.

His free hand disappeared deep in the pocket of his breeches. A sickening dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d be no match for a weapon and his brawny size.

Shoulders squared, she readied her body for impact, awaiting his hands to shoot out and grab her.

Placing her fists up before her, she flinched when his hand emerged. He shoved a sealed, yellowed, and crumpled parchment before her eyes.

Confused, she dropped her clenched fists and looked up to see his facial expression unchanged. His clear, blue eyes remained fixed upon her face. He nodded, pushing the document toward her chest. She grabbed it up with shaking fingers.

The man walked back to the lantern, grasped it in one beefy hand and turned, his gaze intently watching her. Anne turned the parchment over in her hand and found a dark gray, wax seal. Clutching it to her heart, tears stung her eyes. The seal was an intricate ‘C’, one she would never mistake, nor forget. She allowed her eyes to close for a second, before releasing a breath in a loud exhale.

Oh, how she wanted to tear it open, and oh, how she wanted to rip it to shreds.

She opened her eyes to find the quiet man holding the lantern high, motioning for her to follow him.

How was this happening?

A trap may be imminent, but she warred with the prospect of remaining in gaol or taking the bait. There was an inkling of recognition burning in the back of her mind as she stared at the brute, but could not place his face. He was rough, tanned, and wrinkled from the sun, intimidating in size and musculature, but had yet to show any aggression.

Shrugging her shoulders, Anne decided this was not the worst thing to happen to her. If it was a trap, she would do anything necessary to survive. If it was not a trap, she wasn’t leaving the island without her babies.

Quiet man’s hulking frame dwarfed the hallway as she stepped out, followed him into the corridor, and down the hall.

As they ascended the first set of steps, Anne darted to her left toward the small cries knowing there was little chance for another rescue. She did not see if the quiet man stopped to wait.

Pitch darkness hampered her vision as she felt along the damp walls of the upper corridor. Just as terror began to thump through her brain, a flickering candle flame lit the hallway before her. She gave a sigh of relief to see the door was not shut or locked as she neared the cell where the children were lying in coarse-made beds.

Before anyone heard anything out of the ordinary, she grabbed the blankets under her son, wrapped him tight in its folds, and swept him into her arms. Snuggling him a moment as his cries abated, she walked to where her new charge, a baby girl, gave a faint cry. She placed her son next to Frederica, folded her in her own blanket, and cradled her to keep her quiet. Anne’s breasts pulsed with a terrible ache knowing she had no time to nurse them.

Both babes secured within each arm, she found her way through the darkness. Keeping her footing steady was a feat in itself, but she remained focused until she spotted the lantern light from her savior.

A relieved sigh escaped her as he stood waiting with a patient stance for her to return. He tilted his head, motioning her onward. If he had issue with two infants now in her arms, he made no indication. No emotions crossed his tanned face.

She nodded, feeling the babies’ warmth on either side of her. But, before she could move forward, the quiet man stepped forward and took one of the babes from her arms. She had no time to protest, he’d done it with such deftness. He cradled her son in the crook of his arm like a professional nursemaid.

At any other moment, she would have grinned, but her nerves were too frayed. The questionable future of her children, and herself, frightened her to death.

The quiet man turned, lifted the lantern high, once again, and started up the next set of stone stairs. The pungent smell of the moss-covered walls invaded her nostrils, and the cotton of her ragged gown clung to her arms and legs as they made their way down another dark corridor. Each step threatened disaster, and she dare not miss a step. She’d not been down this corridor, and it was as silent as a tomb.

His hulking body came to a sudden halt, nearly sending her toppling into his wide back. With barely room to see around his big body, her heart plummeted. They’d reached a dead end. Just as she thought to question why they stood before a wall leading nowhere, he began to feel around the damp stones before him.

Several agonizing moments passed. His hands scoured the blocks, the calluses scraping along the porous surface and echoing in the corridor behind them. He grunted in satisfaction as stones ground against stone, then slid away with a soft click. A crack in the wall opened, just wide enough for her to duck through. He’d have to twist and slither to forge his way to the other side. Salty sea air wafted through the dark recesses of the secret passage. She inhaled its familiar and calming scent, praying this was her true escape.

Her rescuer almost squashed her with his huge body as he slid past, then handed her son into her arms. He ducked into the hidden corridor with the bright lantern held aloft. Needing no further encouragement, Anne passed both infants through the opening to quiet man. Once through, she wiggled her fingers for a babe and he handed back the infant girl. Without a word, she followed him as they began a downward descent. Her bare feet slid precariously against the moist, moss-covered stones, but with one hand on the wall, she kept her balance. With careful, agonizing, and deliberate steps, and what seemed an eternity, she emerged from the mouth of a cave. Blinking back tears, her heart pounded at the site of yellow moonlight winking above the lapping waves.

Anne sucked in a breath, unwilling to allow hope to blossom. Surely, some unknown obstacle would appear should her heart soar too high. Her legs began to shake as the quiet man doused the lantern flame with a fierce puff of air. Walking ahead, he stepped down the beach toward a small wooden boat.

He placed the soot-smudged, darkened lantern in the boat, careful with the small bundle in one arm, and waited until she stepped closer. Stopping near the small boat, he took the baby girl, cradling both babes. With a quick jerk of his head, he motioned her into the boat.

Anne nodded, heart thundering, and jumped in without a backward glance. Turning to gather her son in her arms, she placed him gingerly in the bottom of the boat. Then, she settled Mary’s daughter beside her son.

The small vessel pitched to the side as quiet man’s large body lumbered inside. Anne swallowed, fear and hope mingled making her a silent mess. She breathed in with a slow draw, the salty air wafting into her nostrils and curling her disheveled hair. With the Caribbean Sea lapping at the bottom of the boat, the muscles in her shoulders loosened and her tension eased.

The babies had remained quiet, thank the stars, as her rescuer pushed the small boat from the shore. Once he rowed them a far enough distance from the prison, she blurted. “Where are you taking me?”

He shook his head, his blue eyes intent upon her as he concentrated on the task at hand.

The oars touched the water with methodical ease. Rowing a boat took no more effort for him than lifting a teacup.

Anne raised a brow. He refused to answer her? Or, he did not know where they were going?

Perplexed, she tried again. “Who are you? Did my father send you?”

He continued the systematic rowing, and the boat continued to rock with his complete silence. But, at least there came a reluctant nod.

Anne sat in thought for quite some time as he continued to push them out to sea. If her father had sent him, why wouldn't he speak to her? The sands of Port Royal began to fade behind them, but she had no idea to what destination they would sail.

A large ship loomed in the distance, dark against the shining waters lit by the moon. Her heart soared. She had not been on a ship in over a year. A part of her wondered if her father awaited her upon the deck. Most likely not, as he did not favor sailing as she did.

Her father had a knack for employing rough men for odd jobs around the warehouse. The way quiet man nodded, his eyes never blinking, brought back a memory when she’d been a young girl. Not even the merchant’s daughter could bully her way into a locked storage room. One man stood at the entry, arms folded. He’d been beefy, tall, grouchy, bald, and she’d remembered one unique trait.