Romancing the Pirate

For Bryan, who has given me everything that matters in the world: two beautiful daughters, a lovely new home, and a partner I can count on. It hasn’t all been easy, but it’s sure been worth it. Thank you for all your hard work, which has enabled me to be a stay-at-home mom and to pursue my dreams of being an author. You’re my rock, and I love you very much.

Port Royal
1657

Alicia Davidson felt the contempt through the small crowd that had amassed around the freshly turned earth surrounding her father’s grave. It was like the blade of a cold dagger being slid across the back of her neck. Though the sun was blazing down upon the shifting crowd, Alicia shivered. Wiping her damp cheeks, she pulled her attention from the dirt that was being dropped by shovelfuls onto the sturdy wooden box below her feet, and examined the crowd. Who was it that was aiming such hostility toward her?

She saw the faces of many friends as well as customers of her father’s, who’d been one of two blacksmiths on the island. Some of those faces had tears pooled in their eyes; others simply watched solemnly as the clergyman recited a last prayer before slipping away. Alicia’s eyes shifted to the right, where a few people huddled in a small circle. It was when they broke apart and moved away that her gaze connected with the stranger left standing alone at the edge of the congregation. His eyes narrowed and the full impact of his disdain hit her.

His dark brown hair was long and loose, framing a face that seemed carved from stone. There wasn’t a drop of sympathy in his eyes, nor a hint of compassion in his expression. She had no idea who he was, and given the flat line of his mouth and the waves of bitterness that continued to pour from him, she had no inclination to find out.

Forcing her attention back to the only matter of importance, Alicia knelt and bowed her head, hoping everyone would take her gesture as the sign it was. She desperately wanted to say her last good-bye alone. Women walked away, skirts swishing in the grass. A few hands squeezed her shoulder as a sign of encouragement. Their sympathy was both a comfort and a harsh reminder that her dear father, who had been loved and respected, had gone to join her mother. Tears that should have been spent by now filled her eyes. A deep sense of loss squeezed her heart.

A shadow fell on the ground next to her a moment before she heard her aunt’s voice.

“Alicia, dear, come back to the house, have something to eat.”

“I’m going to stay a little longer.”

Her aunt Margaret was nearly sixty years old and had always made very clear her disapproval of the man her sister had chosen. Even now, Alicia noticed her aunt’s gray eyes were as dry as the earth that lay at their feet.

Aunt Margaret tsked. “Child, he is gone. Best to move on.”

Because she was used to the woman’s coldness, she didn’t react to it. “I need a moment,” Alicia repeated.

“Fine. But do not be long. It is dreadfully hot and there is no point in wilting out here. Besides, it is only proper you make an appearance; I have a houseful of people who wish to offer their condolences.” Margaret fanned herself as though to reinforce her point. “In the meantime, I will have your things sent to my home.”

Alicia pushed herself to her feet, moved slightly so the sun wasn’t beating directly in her eyes. “I thought I made it clear where I belong.”

“Really, child. You cannot stay alone in that little hovel. It is not proper.”

“It’s my home, Aunt Margaret. I’ll not be leaving it.”

The other woman took a full breath, expanding an already impressive bosom. Her tiny hands clutched the curve of her parasol. “I will not have any niece of mine living alone, without proper guidance. You will come with me, be given a maid, and I will find someone to teach you etiquette and decorum. You will not work in that filthy blacksmith shop, and if it takes us three weeks, we will scrub those hands until they are no longer stained black. When we are finished, you will no longer be the object of disdain and pity that you have been since Jacob allowed you to work that shop. And,” she added, with a pinched mouth, “you will have the finest of dresses.” She said the latter with a pointed look at the simple gown Alicia wore.

“This isn’t the place, Aunt Margaret. We can discuss this later.”

Her aunt feigned remorse well. “Of course, child. We can talk later.” As she stepped away, Alicia heard her aunt mutter, “He has some nerve, coming here.”

Alicia ignored the comment. Her aunt was always annoyed or complaining about someone. In the past it had been her father. She waited until her aunt was well past the line of headstones and then unbuttoned the collar of her dress. The breeze coming off the ocean carried the tang of salt with it. Alicia took in a cleansing breath now that she could breathe without feeling as though she were being choked by her collar.

The respite from the cloying heat felt amazing and she sighed. She took her time saying good-bye, allowing the tears to come as well as the memories. She talked to her father as though he were there, and by the time she stood, wiping the dirt from her skirts, the pain around her heart had eased.

It wasn’t until she straightened and took a step to leave that she noticed the stranger was still there.

His expression hadn’t softened and she found herself casting a furtive glance around, but they were well and truly alone. What did he want? She wasn’t helpless the way her aunt thought she was, but she was certainly no match for him in strength.

Alicia’s mouth dried like cotton when he began to walk toward her. Despite her galloping heart, she didn’t move. He was at her father’s funeral. Surely Jacob Davidson must have known this stranger. His gaze never left hers, and when he stopped opposite the grave from her, she was able to see his eyes were dark brown and were framed by black lashes and a cut of black brows.

He said nothing, but his eyes finally shifted to the grave between them. With nothing more than a creak of his knee-high boots when he crouched down, he grabbed a handful of dirt and let it sift through his fingers over the casket. Then, with a last scathing glance at her, he stood and left as silently as he’d come.

“You can’t mean to run this shop by yourself, Alicia. It’s madness!”

“Thank you for the encouragement, Charles. I always know I can count on you,” Alicia responded. Judging the embers in the forge, she picked up the billows. They whooshed as she pumped air into the fire; the red of the coals brightened. Only midmorning, her shirt clung to her back and the tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid stuck to her cheeks. Breathing was becoming more difficult, and Alicia knew by the end of the day her lungs would hurt from the effort.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You know I didn’t mean it the way it came out. It’s not that you’re not capable. The problem, my dear girl, is that you’re too capable.”

Alicia replaced the billows on the hook her father had fashioned onto the edge of the long worktable.

“I’ve never known efficiency to be a negative trait.”

“It wouldn’t be if you were a seamstress.”

“You know that’s never going to happen.”

“You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t have to worry about keeping a business afloat.”

“My mother taught me about numbers and ledgers. I know how to manage them.”

“You think the Navy will continue to buy swords from you now that your father is gone? It was one thing to have you work with your father—they managed to turn a blind eye to that out of respect for Jacob. It’ll be another to them when you’re the sole proprietor.”

Alicia set her teeth. “I’m trying to be patient because I like and respect you, but I’m getting tired of your constant discouragement. It’s all you’ve been telling me for a week now.”

“And I’ll keep telling you until it starts to sink into that thick head of yours. You’re choosing an impossible road. It’ll do nothing but make you miserable.”

Alicia sat on the table. Despite the messy nature of her work, the surface was clean and clutter free. Tools were always replaced after being used. Her gaze met Charles’s.

The father of three rambunctious boys and a sweet yet shy daughter, Charles had worked at the shop nearly as long as Alicia could remember, which, owing to the fall that had left her scarred and wiped her memory clean, was about six years ago. He’d been loyal, hardworking, and like her aunt, firm in the belief that a blacksmith shop was no place for her. Unlike her aunt, however, he acknowledged her skill.

“I’ve never cared what people thought of me.” There was a spark of a lie in there, but she wouldn’t give Charles more ammunition. If he knew she sometimes wished she were included in the social activities of people her age, wished people wouldn’t look the other way when they passed her on the street, he’d jump on the fact. Then he’d team up with her aunt and she’d never hear the end of it.

“As for work, all the Navy will care about is that their swords are better than those of their enemies. This shop can give them that,
I
can give them that.” And she had for the past two years. She took great pains with the craftsmanship of her swords, and it always filled her with such pride when she saw an officer walk by with one of her blades at his side.

Charles rubbed his coarse whiskers. “I don’t believe your father ever told them it was you who forged those swords, which is my point. They won’t be happy about it.”

“They had better get used to it, or they can go elsewhere.”

He frowned. “Thinking like that will sink this business. The Navy is our biggest purchaser. We lose them, we may as well close the doors.”

It was Alicia’s turn to sigh. “What else would you have me do?”

He ladled a cup of water from a cask near the door and swallowed it in a large gulp. His eyes wouldn’t quite reach hers. “Anything else. You should go with your aunt. You’d have an easier life with her.”

“I’m not interested in easy, Charles. I need to be true to myself. I’d be miserable if I went with her. Besides, putting on a fancy dress and primping with my hair doesn’t change who I am on the inside. Can you honestly see me spending my days having tea and talking of all the eligible bachelors?”

He shook his head. “At least it’s more ladylike. And living with her, you’d have a chance at getting married.”

“Even with this?” Alicia asked, tracing the scar that slashed from her right earlobe to mid-cheek.

“Since when has that bothered you?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t.” Which was the truth. Most often she was too busy working to even think about it.

“Besides, it’s not the scar, Alicia, it’s the smell of ash and smoke that is more of a deterrent.”

Alicia grinned. “That isn’t normal?”

“Blimey, you’re a handful. I give up,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I’ve said my piece, I don’t imagine you’ll listen to me any more than you do your aunt.”

“I appreciate your concern, but no. I’ve made up my mind to work my father’s shop.”

“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted this,” he said.

The jab hit its mark, bruised her heart. “Perhaps not. But she never stopped me from coming here with him. She knew how I loved to work alongside him. Charles, Jacob taught me this.”

“Because he lost his sons,” he reminded her gently.

Alicia inhaled sharply. “If you’re saying he’d never have had me in here if Daniel and Eric were here, then you’re wrong. He
breathed
this shop, and he was proud to have me here. There’s nothing he’d have loved more than having all his children work with him. He always had time to explain and teach. Your son Jack is proof as he’s spent many hours in here at my father’s side.”

Charles lowered his gaze, being properly reminded of the man he’d worked with for years.