Holiday at Sea
Lynn C. Kelly
Electronic edition published by Paisley Sky Press, February 2012
Copyright © 2012 Lynn C. Kelly
Smashwords Edition
Additional Works by Lynn C. Kelly
Free Preview of In the Right Place
Holiday at Sea
Captain Mary Allen kept careful watch over her hired muscle. She always did, ever watchful of their loyalty, and ever watchful for any scoundrels who might ruin her rescue operation. She’d always been the brains behind her band of all-women pirates—and quite often the knife too, with the scars to prove it—but today, she was watchful for an entirely different reason.
Of the three mercenaries she’d brought aboard at the last port, two were complete unknowns. Rico and Gerardo, the Spaniards, came highly recommended from the third man, Antonio, the Italian she often employed. But it wasn’t the newcomers who made her edgy. It was Antonio. The confident, capable, incredibly delicious Antonio.
In a man’s world—a pirate’s world—publicly dressing and acting like men could only get the sisters, as her crew clandestinely referred to themselves, so far. Most of the time, maintaining the ruse wasn’t too difficult. Only those who could drop their voices to pull off the scratchy, rumbling pitch a man might use spoke in public. And while Allen’s wits and resources made her success possible, she also knew certain missions called for a brute strength that only the mercenaries could provide.
Most of her attention focused on detecting whether the crew of the ship they had illegally boarded was up and about. It had to be. While stealing from another pirate’s ship wasn’t unheard of, those who tried it and were caught tended to disappear, becoming shark bait and the stuff of ghastly pirate legend.
The operation was progressing smoothly, with nearly half of the forty or so captive women they’d come for safely relocated to Allen’s Bounty of the Sea. While she wished she could offer some reassurance, whisper, this is a rescue!, it could never be.
For all these women knew, they were being transported from a bad situation to something even worse. Yet they could never be told they were actually being rescued. If word got out to the hired hands, all would be lost. Allen had spent years building a reputation among the slave rings, collecting an all-woman troupe that could masquerade as dastardly male pirates, then engineering a plausible escape for the women so they’d be none the wiser as to how they’d been rescued. If word got out, Bounty of the Sea would be sunk. Hundreds of women and young girls would never see their families again and instead be sold into lives of slavery and prostitution And every one of Captain Allen’s band of women pirates would be slaughtered, or sold into the very same rings of illegal human trafficking they’d risked their lives fighting.
As expected, most of the crew of the Prevailing Wind was out enjoying their first night of shore leave—the first in a very long time—and the few that remained had passed out. Earlier in the evening, in an act of camaraderie common among known pirate ships, the sisters had shared some of the strongest whiskey they could get their hands on to commiserate with the poor sods who had to stay shipside. Of course, they also used the opportunity to scout out the positions of the captives and those assigned guard duty.
Allen clung to the side of the ladder between decks with the easy grace of a sailor accustomed to churning seas. The gentle lapping of the waves this close to shore was no issue for someone who’d spent nearly half her life sailing the seven seas. From her location, she simultaneously observed the Spaniards, assisted the frightened women climbing the ladder, and kept lookout for any unexpected crewmen.
The biggest of the mercenaries, Rico, hoisted the women up from the hold one by one. Using a simple knotted rope, each woman perched and held on while Rico hauled them up knot-by-knot until their heads peeked over the deck. His magnificent biceps flexed and strained, and though he didn’t voice a single complaint, his grunts of effort were labored.
But this was the reason he’d been hired, and clearly, he was proud of his strength and would not succumb to fatigue. He’d do his job, without protest. While Allen could match his determination, she envied his pure might and the potency of his muscles.
She watched the easy way the men worked together, with Gerardo taking over once Rico pulled the women up to deck-height. Gerardo pulled them first onto their bums, then lifted the women to a standing position. Some were so weak and disoriented. They truly needed this extra assistance. The most extraordinary thing was how even though he didn’t speak their language, Gerardo spoke calmly and firmly, directing the women past the galley and up the ladder before they made their way over to Antonio, who guided each woman over the planks and to the Bounty of the Sea.
It was hard to tell if it was Gerardo’s kindly, gentle face that the prisoners found reassuring, or the fact that he was smaller, and less intimidating than many of the other pirates they’d come to know. It may have simply been the notion that they might be getting rescued that made the women trustful.
In any event, Allen knew she would not hesitate to employ them again, so long as they didn’t become suspicious of the true nature of her operation. She wasn’t concerned about the language issue even if Antonio didn’t accompany them as the combination third mercenary translator all in one. Come to think of it, it might be smarter if he wasn’t part of the equation.
Her attraction to him was part of the reason she’d positioned him away from her station at the ladder. True she didn’t need to keep an eye on him—he’d proven himself trustworthy on several jobs in the past. But most of all, she’d be more focused if she couldn’t keep an eye on him. Because when Antonio was near, she couldn’t think about her mission. She just kept thinking about him.
And it wasn’t just the thinking, it was the responding. She knew her gaze lingered on his body just a bit too long, her skin became warm and flushed, and a tightened, sensual anticipation deep inside made her want to stop breathing.
Gerardo signaled that just three prisoners remained. One frightened girl—she couldn’t have been more than twelve or so years old—wasn’t responding to his directions. She stood, looking toward the ladder, but with the way her eyes glazed over and she cowered down into herself, it was obvious she wasn’t really seeing it. The girl acted as if she wanted to shut her eyes tight and find herself home where she belonged rather than being stolen in the night and moved from one pirate ship to another. Allen knew the look; she’d seen it all too often.
With Rico and Gerardo nearly finished with their end of the operation, Allen risked a glance over at Antonio. In the light of the waxing half moon, she could barely make out his silhouette. Tall, with broad shoulders tapering down to slim, powerful-looking hips. Dark wavy hair that reached his shoulders and milk chocolate eyes that were as soft as his body was hard.
Not that she could see his eyes, or his other various attributes very clearly at this moment. But still, just looking in his direction brought up memories of stolen glances at his luscious form over the years. When the wind gusted, his thin cotton pants clung tightly to his thighs, outlining every hard line with tantalizing promise.
What she would give to run her fingers through that hair, gaze with abandon—like a woman in love, not a fellow seaman—into those enchanting eyes, and trace the muscles in his thighs ever upward until he sighed with pleasure. Her heart pounded in her throat and she shuddered as a tingle from her elbows spread throughout her entire body.
“No más, Captain.”
The sound of Gerardo’s raspy whisper broke Allen away from her wandering thoughts about Antonio. About damn time too. No más was right. Even with her limited knowledge of Spanish, Allen knew what that meant. Among other things, it meant it was time to stop the daydreaming and wrap up this operation so they could get back to the relative safety of the Bounty of the Sea.
Allen hopped off the ladder, making room for the Spaniards, and silently urged them to make time up the ladder. She made a final visual sweep of their rescue site. There was no evidence that the prisoners had been taken, and no evidence of who might have absconded with them. Another successful rescue.
From down the crew corridor, a loud hacking cough sounded. Allen froze, involuntarily holding her breath.
The hack continued, but a bit louder. And then a bit louder again, with a moan of pain. A crewman was approaching.
Allen turned to dash up the ladder and noticed a girl’s shoe in the shadows. Was there time to retrieve it? Or better to disappear into the night before she was spotted?
She took three quick steps to retrieve the shoe before realizing what it was attached to. It was the girl. The frightened twelve-year-old who must have hidden in the shadows while Rico and Gerardo attended to the others. Or perhaps it was while Allen was looking somewhere else and thinking of someone else.
It was one thing to snatch up a shoe and get away before the crewman caught her. It would be another thing, entirely, to get this dazed girl to safety. She even considered telling the girl all was well, and that she’d be safe soon. But Allen couldn’t risk revealing herself, her crew, or the true nature of their mission to even one girl. The consequences were too dire. Besides, it seemed unlikely the girl would respond.
Allen picked up the girl and slung her over her shoulder. She was heavier than she looked. If it wasn’t for adrenaline—and her knowledge of the hacking crewman making his way toward the hatch—it would have been nearly impossible to carry the girl up the ladder.
Once on deck, Allen performed another visual sweep, hoping it wouldn’t come down to an armed fight at this point. Fortunately, the only other figure she spied was Antonio.
Allen tried to appear stronger and larger than she was, but hefting the girl up the ladder and across the deck began to take its toll. She did her best to disguise the strain of her jaw, the sweat dripping down her face, and the burdened, short steps she took as anger—anger that the girl needed carrying, and anger that she’d nearly been left behind—hoping Antonio wouldn’t recognize the true cause of her struggle.
In an oddly gentlemanly gesture, Antonio lifted the girl from Allen’s shoulder, cradled her against him, and made his way toward the ship. He was swift, but gentle, the way a man might carry his own child from danger.
Could he possibly know? Or was she reading chivalry into his actions where none was intended? Surely, all the mercenary was doing was accepting the more laborious acts necessary in serving his employer. Surely that was all.
Regardless of his intentions, they were able to make a quick, silent exit and set sail into the night without detection. Wherever that wayward crewman was going—probably to relieve himself—he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and didn’t stray above deck.
With the primary mission out of the way, all that remained was to drop the mercenaries at the next port, and plan some plausible escape for the captives so no one would realize the true undertaking of pirates aboard the Bounty of the Sea.
~~~