Chapter 7: Pirates

Charlisse regained consciousness long before she opened her eyes. Lying motionless, she listened as she tried to piece together the events that brought her here. As her memory returned, so did her fear, striking like a sharp knife in her heart. Shouts, curses, and the crackle of a fire assaulted her ears, and she knew she had not been dreaming.

She had been captured by pirates.

Peeking through her lashes, she saw men moving in the distance. Another stood closer with his back to her. She rose to her elbows, straining her aching muscles. Her world tilted. None of the pirates looked her way. Their ship lingered just offshore, tipped on its side, tied to several trees by thick ropes strung from its mast and hull.

This might be her best chance to escapebefore anyone knew she was awake. She could dash into the forest, and by the time they realized she was gone, maybe they wouldn't have the energy or desire to find her.

She struggled to sit. Her head pounded, and her arms shook beneath her. Collapsing back onto the blanket, she tried to catch her breath. The nearest pirate turned and grinned, scratching his gray beard. She recognized him as the man who'd brought her the soup. "Cap'n," he yelled.

Several of the men turned her way. A tall man in a billowing white shirtthe captainheaded toward her.

"I take it you're feeling better?" Merrick raised a brow and knelt beside her. The doctor approached behind him.

Charlisse's gaze drifted over the three pirates: the doctor, the one with the eye patch; the older pirate, who had brought her the soup; and the captain, who, though still a frightening sight, wore clean, stylish clothes and carried himself with the air of a gentleman. Quite in contrast to his two friends. His bold perusal frayed her already tattered nerves. Nonetheless, she determined to return his stare with all the confidence she could muster.

"I demand you let me go at once," she said with a raw, cracked voice that leeched the authority from her command.

Merrick smiled. "And where would you be going, young miss?" He waved his hand at the lush scenery. "You are on an island, and a rather small one at that."

Charlisse blew out a sigh. "I assure you, sir, that fact has not escaped my attention."

The pirates exchanged chuckles.

"Am I free to go," she asked, "or am I your prisoner?" Charlisse kept her gaze steady, forbidding her fear to surface.

"May I remind you, miss," the captain's eyes sparkled, "'tis you who wandered into our camp, not the other way around."

"What do you intend to do with me?" Her breath came fast.

"Never fear, young miss. We mean you no harm."

She didn't believe him. Not for a moment.

"I'll go get ye some more soup," the older pirate announced, getting up.

Brighton touched her forehead. "Fever's gone, Cap'n. She just be needin' rest now."

Overcome by familiar feelings of helplessness, tears welled behind Charlisse's eyes. She forced them back with effort gained from years of practice, far back into a deep, dark placea locked room reserved for all her unshed tears.

Noises behind the captain caught her attention. A small group of pirates approached, headed by a young man wearing taffeta breeches, silk stockings, and a rich crimson damask waistcoat. His elegant apparel and cultivated demeanor seemed ill-suited for the company he kept. A grotesque and filthy band of men sauntered behind him, leering at her as they drew near. Charlisse's heart grew faint.

"Captain, aren't you going to introduce us to the lady?" the leader asked, flashing dark eyes and an icy smile.

"Sleep," the captain ordered her. "We'll talk later." He stood to intercept the advancing men, saying something to them she could not hear. With grunts and curses, the rogues scurried away, but their elegant leader continued to argue with Merrick. Finally, he too turned and stomped down the beach.

Charlisse wondered why the captain had kept his crew from her. Perhaps he was waiting for her full recoveryor maybe he intended to keep her for himself. She allowed for no other possibilities, for that would be a fool's optimism. And she was not a fool.

The gray-haired pirate returned with food. and Charlisse ate as much as her shrunken stomach could tolerate. For the first time in over a month, the gnawing ache of hunger ceased. She knew her strength would return soon. When it did, she would formulate a plan of escape.

The pirate captain avoided Charlisse for the rest of that day. She spent her time resting as much as she could and eating whatever the manwhose name, she discovered, was Sloaneoffered her. By midday of the following day, she felt much better, her strength almost completely restored. But her fear had not subsided. In fact it had only intensified as her peril became clear.

Still clothed in a ragged petticoat, she became increasingly uneasy at the bawdy looks shot her way from the pirate camp not more than ten yards from where she lay. As the work on the ship neared completion, the large brigantine was brought upright and anchored offshore, and without anything further to do, the pirates sauntered aimlessly about camp and spent most of their time drinking rum.

Charlisse had no idea what her course of action should beno brilliant escape plan had formed in her mind. Sloane, who had apparently been assigned the duty of guarding and tending her, was as amiable as she supposed any pirate could be. Yet she became increasingly anxious as time passed, wishing that fate would simply proceed with whatever hideous plan it had devised.

The sun aimed its golden rays between the gaps of swaying palm fronds above her, casting patches of dancing light across her petticoat. Momentarily mesmerized by their exotic ballet, Charlisse stared at them, unable to think clearly. She looked at the pirates that milled about the camp. A few glanced her way. Averting her eyes, she gazed at the soothing, familiar sight of the turquoise waves that caressed the shore, hoping to find solace there.

She felt a fleeting spark of hopeone she dared not cling tobrought on by the surprising civility of the captain. However, she had discovered kindness was often a mask behind which people hid selfish motives. How could that not be true in this case, with a man who made piracy his profession?

She felt his piercing stare upon her even before she looked up. Their gazes locked. Though he stood on the other side of camp, she felt violatedas if he were reading her every thought. Another pirate called him and he turned away, leaving Charlisse flustered. Was it only fear or something else that caused her whirlwind of emotions?

Struggling to rise, she finally managed to balance on wobbly legs. It felt good to be on her feet againto regain some measure of control. All eyes shifted in her direction, and Sloane appeared instantly at her side.

"Where be ye goin', miss?" he asked.

"What does it matter?" she snapped. "I can't escape you and your fiendish friends." She slapped sand from her petticoat and glared at Sloane, who stood, silently regarding her. A breeze picked up, fluttering through her hair. Though the sky was clear, the spicy sting of rain filled her nostrils. She sighed, giving the pirate her best pleading look. "I need to take a short walk."

"It be best if ye stay close to the cap'n, miss."

"Indeed? Why is that?"

Sloane cast an apprehensive look toward the camp. "I don't mean to be worryin' ye none, miss, but some o' the other men ain't as chivalrous as the cap'n, if ye know what I mean."

"Chivalrous, you say?" She smirked, glancing at the captain who was again glaring at her from across the camp. She held her hand out to Sloane. "Might you escort me to the water's edge, sir?"

Sloane chuckled. "Not many ladies ever called me sir." He hesitated, grinning at her, his face reddening. After glancing toward Merrickwho noddedSloane offered her his arm.

The water was an artistic blend of turquoise and jade green with waves that glittered like precious jewels before dissipating on shore into a million shimmering pieces of crystal. Palm fronds danced gleefully in the wind, rejoicing in the magnificent view nature had given them.

Charlisse dipped a foot into the warm water. A myriad of colorful fish darted to and fro among the coral reefs, and she watched them with the curiosity of a child seeing something extraordinary for the first time. Envying their carefree life, she wished more than anything that she could transform into one and swim away … away from the pirates, away from her life, away from her past.

Holding up her petticoat, she waded out to her knees and splashed the saltwater onto her arms and face. With her eyes closed and the warmth of the sun and waves massaging her tense muscles, she dreamed she was happy and safeif only for a moment. But the sounds of the pirate camp broke her trance, and she knew that happiness was but a fleeting dream, not something to ever be realized.

The sky darkened, the wind picked up, and soon heavy droplets pounded the water like pebbles. Still she remained, allowing the warm rain to wash away the grime and dirt of the past month. She remained until her hair was drenched and rivulets of water ran down her body. She remained even as the waves grew larger and threatened to pull her out to sea. She remained because she didn't want to return and face the horrors awaiting her. But the only thing in front of her was the raging ocean. And she knew that horror all too well.

She turned toward Sloane, who looked like an overweight, drowning rat, and saw the captain standing on shore beside him, watching her intently. He held out a brown tunic in her direction, motioning her to come ashore. With no other option, Charlisse reluctantly splashed through the surf toward them, bracing against the waves slamming her from behind. Only when she reached shore did she realize that the rain had not only glued her thin petticoat to her body, accentuating her curves, but it also made those curves quite visible. Mortified, she grabbed the tunic, but the captain refused to let it go. His playful glance skimmed her from head to toe as a smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

Charlisse yanked the fabric from his grasp. "You cad," she exclaimed, holding it up to her chest.

"At your service, milady." He tipped his hat, bowed gracefully, and strode off.

"So this is your chivalrous captain?" she huffed, quickly donning the oversized tunic.

Sloane scratched his head. "Well, miss, he did get ye the shirt, eh?"