Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
I choked, nodded, tears overspilling.
My mother’s gown possessed the lavender hues and delicate ruffles she favored. Where she was painted pale and lithe, my father bore the freckled complexion and muscled frame of a seafaring Irishman. He looked so young. So in love.
His face tilted downward, smiling upon my mother as if utterly distracted by her, the painter’s presence forgotten. My mother’s pose on the bench was relaxed yet stately, her eyes pointed at her lap.
“Look at that, Bennett.” Ashley hovered on my other side, his finger motioning at the spot I’d just discovered.
My mother’s hands surrounded a small bump on her lap, the fabric of her gown stretching over the roundness beneath. No one would notice that detail in a passing glance, but it was there, declaring the year it was painted.
“I don’t know how or why this was created,” I said. “But she’s pregnant with me, and I recognize those trees as the same kind that surround the estate in Charleston.”
Grief was the reason my chest felt too tight. But joy had a hand in that, too. My father hadn’t just given me a memory that wouldn’t fade. He’d gifted me with a glimpse into something that had been kept from me my entire life. Not once had I ever seen my parents together. Until now.
I wept. How could I not? The emotions I’d carried for so long had been waiting for this moment. The connection I had with my father through the compass reached its zenith. Loss and longing spread its wings, and I needed to let it out. Let it go.
Priest reached for me, the lightest touch, and I was undone. My quiet sobs rose like fists. I leaned into him, and he was there, bending around me, drawn by his need to take care of me.
Ashley stood a few feet away, directing the crew as they carried out the treasure. But his gaze stayed with me, loving me without words, without touch, seeking my eyes with a look that would readily give me anything, if I asked.
Crying within view of my crew wasn’t ideal, but no one stared or whispered. They continued about their work in uncharacteristic silence. A sign of respect. They understood.
With Ashley’s gaze reaching out to me and Priest’s breath upon my cheek, my tears faded as quickly as they’d surfaced. Sadness gave way to tranquility, for I had no regrets, no misgivings. For the first time in my life, I felt complete.
I dusted myself off, packed up the precious painting, and followed my men home, to Jade and whatever adventure awaited us.
One week later, I sat behind the desk in my cabin, talking with Ashley and Jobah. They bent over a spread of charts, plotting our course. Priest and Reynolds sat at the table, sprawled and relaxed, drinking more than their share of rum.
We were headed south, back to the West Indies. Then what? We were trying to work that out.
Ashley had been straightforward about his disapproval in pirating the king’s ships. Yes, there were other vessels worthy of marauding, but he raised some thoughtful questions. Every man on my crew was now rich beyond his means. Why plunder at all? If we didn’t raid, then what? Where would we go? What did we want?
The answer to the last question was easy.
“We want adventure.” I picked up a brass spyglass and absently spun it on the desk. “We need the prize.”
“What prize?” Ashley crossed his arms over his chest.
“Any prize. The harder the raid and greater the danger, the better the reward.”
Reynolds shouted a huzzah from the table and hoisted his bottle of rum.
“You want a challenge? Very well.” Ashley exchanged a look with Jobah.
Then he presented a proposal that made my blood at once sizzle and chill.
Priest and Reynolds straightened, their expressions as uncertain and piqued as my thoughts.
What Ashley proposed would change our purpose, our business. But not our hearts. No, our hearts were already in this fight, and mine thundered to dive in.
I peeked at Priest and caught the smile curving behind the rim of his rum glass.
“All right.” I grinned. “Put it to the crew for a vote.”
March 1722
St. Christopher, Leeward Islands Colony
St. Christopher. To anyone settling here, it was a dazzling island of beauty and opportunity. To anyone except the African slaves who were barbarously shipped in and forced to work in the sugar cane fields.
Then there was me, the bastard daughter of noble blood, willing to lead a band of seafaring ruffians into a war against those more evil than I was.
“Starboard batteries, target the mainsail!” My breaths cleaved as I jumped onto the gunwale and held the spyglass to my eye.
Fifty feet away, iron guns protruded from the slave ship’s bows, belching smoke and hauling in for reloading.
“Aim high and true, gunners!” My hand clenched around the glass, my heart pounding. “If you hit her belly, I shall seize you up by your pissers and dangle you from the yard-arm!”