A Captive of Chance (10 page)

* * *

After a short repast of biscuits and rum, they continued their game. This time, the brothers had Marina wedged between them. One sucked and gently bit her erect nipples while fingering her pussy. The other took her now stretched open ass.

Marina came with such an intensity it felt like the entire ship shook and moved.

“You both rocked the whole blasted ship,” she said with a content smile as she nuzzled against Drake’s shoulder.

He brushed her honey locks away from her face with affection. “As much as we want to take the compliment, lass. I’m afraid that’s a storm coming.”

Gregor was throwing on his boots and oilskin coat. Giving her still red bottom a playful slap, he ordered her out of bed. “Get dressed, wench. We’re taking you to your mistress to ride out the storm.”

Marina raised frightened eyes to Drake as she instinctively clutched at his arm. Giving her a reassuring kiss on the forehead, he said soothingly, “There is nothing to worry about. We’ve been through many a storm at sea.”

Reassured, she nodded and got up to dress as they commanded.

* * *

Belle moaned as Chance nuzzled her neck. “I can’t. I’m way too sore from the last time.”

He smiled, remembering how he had taken her right there on the table, coming up with some creative uses for the rook that won him the game.

“Ah, my Belle, how I would enjoy proving you wrong, but I must leave you.”

Belle sat up alarmed. “What?”

She would dwell later on why the absence of a pirate who had taken her captive should upset her.

“There is a storm coming. I must take the bridge if we are to get through it safely.”

She looked down, surprised to see he was already fully dressed, right down to his thick boots and the long, black oilskin coat he was wearing when they first met. It seemed like months, not a day ago.

There was a pounding on the cabin door. Belle covered herself more securely with the blanket.

“That will be Drake,” said Chance as he moved to open the door.

In the passageway was Drake and a disheveled Marina. “I thought the women could comfort one another. It’s going to be a rough one,” he said gruffly, not wanting to acknowledge he was doing something thoughtful for either captive.

Chance nodded his assent and moved away from the door so Marina could pass. With a final glance at the female still warm in his bed, taking in the glossy black hair falling about her creamy shoulders. Her lips, red and swollen from his kisses.

“Do not light the lamps,” he said equally as gruffly, even less willing to acknowledge a soft spot for his little spitfire. “Let’s go,” he said with a nod to Drake.

Both women were then left in the dark cabin, the silence no barrier to their conflicting emotions.

Chapter Eight

Her Escape

It was the worst fifteen hours of her life. Belle gave a small laugh at the thought. In the last two days she had been attacked by pirates, taken captive, lost her maidenhead and yet a thunderstorm was the worst of it.

Except it wasn’t just a thunderstorm. For hours upon hours the ship had been tossed like a cork amid the high waves and torrential rain. The nauseating movement of the ship seemed never to cease. The sound of the waves hitting the decks above was deafening. The ship rocked and creaked. While the heaviest furniture in the cabin was nailed down, the various incidentals were not. Belle and Marina gave up on trying to keep the books, maps and nautical tools from sliding about, finally just shoving anything loose they could find into the random trunks he had strewn about the room.

The only problem was once that task was complete, they had nothing else to do but huddle together and listen to the sounds of the raging storm, praying the ship would hold.

Clasped in each other’s arms, neither felt like sharing what their experience had been like in the hands of the pirates. Besides, the sound of the squall outside drowned out any attempts at conversation. At one time, they had been certain the ship was splitting apart. The shattering boom of the wave and then the sickening noise of splintering wood terrified them. Then there was a massive crash, sending small bits of dust and debris to mist down on them from the wooden beams above. They waited, what felt like an eternity, neither daring to breathe. But instead of the floods of water they half expected as the ship sank, the sounds returned to the same relentless pounding booms and wails.

Hours into the storm, a cabin boy brought them something to eat. 


“Sorry,” he said as he laid a plate of salt cod and biscuits in front of them on the floor. “Ol’ Salt can’t light a fire in the galley during the storm.” He turned to leave. Belle reached out to grab his arm.

“The captain. Is he all right?”

Confused at her concern, the cabin boy just laughed. “Course, miss! Captain’s the best there is! Old Davy Jones’ locker might get ‘em, but it won’t be from a silly bit of rain!”

Belle released his arm and the cabin boy raced out of the room, anxious to get back to the action.

Ignoring Marina’s questioning look, Belle resumed her position huddled on the floor among the bed linens and blankets. Both had decided hours ago it was safer than trying to keep their seats in one of the nailed down wooden chairs.

Belle couldn’t believe what had come over her. Instead of asking about the storm or the state of the ship or whether they would all live or die, she had asked about the welfare of her captor! Angry for showing concern, Belle did what she usually made a point of never doing. She was honest with herself.

Against all common sense and in some respects decency, she had fallen in love with Chance. How it was possible, she couldn’t even begin to say. The man was handsome to be sure. Any woman would fall for those dark, brooding looks. And those tattoos! They were scandalously attractive. So forbidden and yet beautiful. Belle remembered after he had taken her twice, his prize for beating her in chess as he said, she had lain in bedding tracing the lines of each one. Marvelling at the artistry. Marvelling even more that this powerful, sometimes fearsome, man was letting her leisurely touch his body. He just laid next to her, playing with a lock of her hair. It had been a strangely tender moment given their station in life.

If she were going to be really honest with herself, she would think about how his punishments seemed to lead to pleasure, but Belle was not ready for that. She had had enough honesty for the moment. What she needed was a plan. No good would come of her attraction. Men like Chance did not suddenly become gentlemen who want to lead respectable lives with wives and babies. Knowing her feelings, she could no longer risk waiting for him to ask her father for a ransom. She needed to save herself. But how? The answer was easier then she could have supposed.

* * *

Both women eventually fell into an exhausted sleep. They were startled by the entrance of the cabin boy. He had a pitcher of fresh water and a bottle of wine.

It took them a moment to realize the ship was calm. No more rocking and being tossed about. It was also strangely, eerily quiet.

“Storm passed!” announced the cabin boy cheerily. “Ol’ Salt will have a nice hot meal for the crew and you misses as soon as he can get the fires going.”

“How is the ship?” Belle croaked out, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

“We lost a sail when the jib boom gave out,” he answered.

That must have been the loud crashing sound they had heard in the early morning, thought Belle.

“The bilge is taking on too much water because the scuppers are clogged with crap. That’s why she’s listing a bit,” continued the cabin boy. “And the prow took a real hit.” He could not contain the energetic light in his eyes, still keyed up from the adventure of the night before. “Captain says we have to head to port for repairs. Should be there in a few hours.” With a promise to bring hot food when it was ready, he left in haste, forgetting to lock the door.

“A port!” said Belle, grabbing Marina’s hand. “We can escape there.”

“Escape?” exclaimed a flabbergasted Marina. “You cannot mean it!”

“I do,” said Belle with more conviction then she felt. “Are you with me?”

Marina hesitated. Knowing it was crazy to say so, she was having a grand adventure with her two dashing pirates. She had no desire to go back to being at her mistress’s beck and call. Ironing dresses, sewing, arranging her underthings, fetching tea and meals. Especially in boring, cold old England, no matter how nice the mistress.

“No, miss,” said Marina shyly. “I’m staying.” She had no idea what their plan was for her but while they wanted her, she was going to stay with Drake and Gregor.

Belle showed far more understanding at her announcement then Marina could have hoped. With a gentle squeeze of Marina’s hand, she said, “It is your choice. Just one thing.”

“Yes, miss, anything,” said Marina enthusiastically.

“I need your dress.”

* * *

Exhausted, Chance dragged himself down the passageway. It had been a grueling twenty-hour stretch. It was one of the worst storms he could ever remember. There were several times when he thought all was lost. There was one unexpected thing that kept prodding him on. The thought of his beautiful, little spitfire at the bottom of the sea. The idea of never hearing her voice or ducking an object she had thrown at his head again, spurred him on. He loved his ship and was dedicated to his loyal crew, but it was her eyes he saw as he clutched the helm battling back from each treacherous wave assault.

While the
Fortune’s Fate
had sustained a great deal of damage, he was able to get her to Tortuga. He would have preferred Port Royal but Tortuga was closer, and he didn’t want to risk it. While both were pirate strongholds and safe landing spots where he could unload his booty and seek repairs, there was another reason why he would have preferred Port Royal.

Tortuga was a rough port filled with mostly, Dutch, British and French buccaneers. They had one thing in common. Their collective hatred of the Spanish. Even though he planned to keep her under lock and key, it made him uncomfortable to have his Belle so close to danger. His Belle?

Now after hours battling at sea and several more getting the ship into port and arranging for repairs, Chance was finally headed back to his cabin. He didn’t realize how much he was looking forward to seeing flashing blue eyes framed by thick black hair till he was greeted by brown hair with indistinct eyes.

“She’s gone,” whispered Marina, deathly afraid of his reaction. She huddled naked under the blanket having given Belle her only dress.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” he raged.

“She snuck off the ship and into port a few hours ago,” Marina fearfully whispered.

“God dammit!” stormed Chance, picking up the first object he could lay hands on, the wine bottle, and sent it shattering against the cabin wall, sending a sickly spray of blood red wine across them both.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Drake.

Marina was so happy to see him standing in the doorway, she sprang to her feet and ran naked into his arms. Drake shrugged out of his still wet oilskin coat and draped it over her shoulders, rathering she caught a slight chill then letting Chance peer at her naked form. Drake liked to share… but selectively.

Chance ran his hand through his hair, standing helplessly immobile in the middle of the cabin.

“Belle escaped,” he said in a dead monotone.

“Jesus. In Tortuga?” exclaimed Drake. His tone showing he understood as well as Chance the added danger.

Bending down to meet Marina’s frightened eyes, he buttoned the oilskin coat more firmly about her before saying, “Go back to the cabin. Wait for Gregor.”

Marina nodded, with an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Chance, she scurried out of the room.

Chance had already sprung into action. Ripping off his wet britches and shirt, he had changed into dry clothes and was already strapping on his leather brace with the five loaded pistols he kept in a locked trunk next to his bed.

“Chance,” said Drake quietly.

His close friend did not even look up but resolutely continued to strap additional ammunition to his belt.

“Chance,” Drake tried again. “You know there is very little…”

Chance raced across the cabin and grabbed his friend by the shirt, throwing his large frame back several feet. “Don’t you say it. Don’t you fucking say it,” he snarled.

“All right. All right!” said Drake, throwing up his hands in a placating gesture. “What are you going to do?”

With a sinister smile, Chance responded before heading out the door, “Our brethren are about to find out the real reason I’m called “Le Chanceux”.

* * *

Belle huddled closer to the strange woman next to her. Belle learned her name was Rowan. The pretty little redhead had been handed over to the pirates by her own village when they suspected her of witchcraft. Why she could not understand such betrayal, Belle could understand the villagers’ fear. Rowan seemed to have an unworldly look about her, as if only her body was experiencing the horrors of her situation. Her mind and soul were far away… safe. It was a fanciful notion, but Belle could not help being comforted by the woman’s strange serenity.

Trying to get warm in the cold, dank cell. The obnoxious smell was almost overpowering. As far as she could tell, some of the ten women crammed into the tiny cell had been there for over a week. It was startling to hear how their tales of being captured differed from her own.

Many were sisters and wives living in quiet seaside towns when the pirates attacked, killing their men and taking them prisoner. The women were forced to make the perilous journey to this pirate island in the belly of the ship’s hold. No light. No food. Barely enough water to keep them alive.

All were captured by the same pirate. The man they called, Heartless Hal.
What was it with pirates and their pet names?

Belle miserably regretted her rash actions. In the chaos pulling into port, it was surprisingly easy to slip away. Many women of low report came tumbling onto the ship to greet the randy pirates so it was no matter to duck in with them and slip down the gangplank and into the bustling port city. It did not take her long to realize she had made a grievous mistake. Stupidly assuming that once she was free of the ship, she could appeal to a respectable gentleman or lady of the town for assistance, it never even occurred to her a pirate would only seek safe haven in a pirate town!