Tierra Dulce Plantation
St. Catherine’s Parish, Jamaica
September 1814
No moon. Wispy clouds hid most of the stars. He could not have asked for a more perfect night. Before him, the house glowed like a lantern atop the hill. Behind him, his men waited for his command.
Julia Witherington was back in Jamaica. Finally. The pirate paused a moment, trying to count the years—the ages, the epochs—he had been on the quest to strike back at Admiral Sir Edward Witherington.
Julia was married, and she had brought her husband here with her. The inimitable Commodore William Ransome. The admiral’s favorite; the man he’d taken publicly in hand as a son long before Ransome married the admiral’s daughter. The one man in the world the pirate hated almost as much as the admiral.
He smiled. The commodore would ensure word reached Sir Edward of his daughter’s abduction.
Movement caught his attention and honed his focus on the house. He turned, maintaining his crouched position. “Remember, men, no killing—especially the navy officer. The woman is mine. No one is to harm her. Is that understood?”
“Aye, Cap’n,” his men whispered back.
The pirate turned to face the house again. It seemed he had awaited this moment his entire life. The rules of engagement were about to change.
“There is one thing you are forgetting.”
Ned Cochrane pressed himself farther into the shadows at the man’s voice. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He meant only to protect the reputation—and person—of Charlotte Ransome.
“What is that?” Charlotte’s voice fluttered toward him on the breeze.
“This.”
At her slight whimper of protest, Ned stepped forward. Henry Winchester, steward of the Tierra Dulce sugar plantation, held Charlotte by the shoulders, his mouth crushed against hers. She was unsuccessfully pushing against the man’s chest.
But before Ned could make his presence known, Charlotte stopped struggling. Winchester’s grasp loosened. Charlotte brought her heel down on Winchester’s foot and then sent her fist into his midsection.
Winchester groaned and staggered back, arms around his stomach, hopping on one foot. “What was that for?”
Charlotte swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “For taking liberties that are not yours to take.”
Ned took that as his cue to step into the situation. He fought to keep his expression stern and his tone serious, wanting to smile over Charlotte’s ability to handle herself in any situation. “Is everything all right here?”
The dim light coming down the wide porch that circumnavigated the large house illuminated Charlotte’s face. She smiled broadly at him. “Aye—yes, Captain Cochrane. Mr. Winchester and I were clearing up a little misunderstanding.” She stepped toward Henry Winchester. “I am going to take you up on your promise to release me from our engagement, Mr. Winchester. I have had a change of heart.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ned. “In fact, I love someone else and wish to marry him.”
Ned’s heart swelled in his chest, filling his throat and pounding into his head. Charlotte loved him. She wanted to marry him. It was all he could do not to break into the jig the sailing master aboard Audacious demonstrated every evening during the crew’s free time.
Winchester stopped groaning and hopping. His expression hardened as he looked first at Ned and then back at Charlotte. “We shall see about that. You agreed to marry me, Miss Ransome, which means your legacy is mine for the claiming.”
Charlotte rubbed her lips together and then cocked her head. “You are more than welcome to take your case to my brother. It is he who controls my dowry, and it is he who never had knowledge of nor gave permission for our ill-advised engagement. I am certain he will be happy to come to terms with you. But, pray, do not plague me with your attentions any longer. I know you do not love me and want only my money. Therefore, we have nothing further to say to each other.”
Henry gave them one more malevolent look and then stalked off into the darkness.
“Now I understand.” Ned leaned against the porch railing and crossed his arms. As she was the one backlit, Ned could not make out her expression. He tried to keep his own face neutral, inscrutable—the way her brother, his commanding officer, did so well. He was almost certain he failed at it.
“Understand what?” Charlotte moved closer, tension radiating from the set of her shoulders and her twisting hands.
“How you made an enemy of Midshipman Kent and lived to tell the tale.” He shook his head and stood, wanting to both shake her and embrace her. “Have you no common sense? Do you not know better than to taunt a hungry shark?”
She settled her hands on her hips. “It is the shark who should not taunt me. Have I not proven I am capable of surviving anything that comes my way? Have I not shown that I can do what a man can do as well as a man can do it? Have I not demonstrated—”
Unable to resist her any longer, he kissed her, reveling in the softness of her lips. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and swayed as if about to swoon. He supported her weight with one arm around the small of her back. With the other, he pulled off her mobcap and caressed the back of her head.
He ended the kiss and held Charlotte close, his fingers stroking her short, silky hair. “Aye, you have proven all those things.”
“I was a good midshipman, was I not?”
After everything she’d been through, he could not believe she doubted her adequacy as a midshipman. “Yes. One of the best I have had the pleasure to serve with. But it makes me worry.”
She pushed against his chest to look into his eyes. “Worry?”
Fear—not worry—nearly clogged his throat. But had she not said…? “Aye. Will you be content to give up your prospects for further promotion in the navy to become merely the wife of an officer?”
Charlotte swallowed before answering. “Aye, sir. It would make me most content to be the wife of Captain Ned Cochrane.”
He kissed her again, joy making his legs weak and nearly capsizing both of them. “You have made me the happiest of men.” He once again tucked her into his embrace, resting his cheek against the top of her head.
She stiffened. “What was that? Did you hear—”
He shushed her. Then the hairs at the back of his neck tingled. He released her, wishing he’d thought to bring his pistol with him when he had followed Charlotte and Winchester out here.
The noise came again. Not quite a rustling, not quite a scratching. More like the shuffling-scraping sound made by sailors’ bare feet on a ship’s deck.
“Stay behind me,” Ned whispered, pulling Charlotte behind his back. “We’d best go inside.”
“I concur, wholeheartedly.” Her hands settled on his waist.
Without turning, he walked backward toward the warm glow of light from the open windows and doors at the other end of the too-long porch. Why hadn’t he taken Charlotte inside immediately after Winchester’s departure?
A thud behind them. Charlotte gasped and her hands dropped away from his waist.
Ned turned—and the side of his head exploded with a searing, bright white pain before contracting into darkness. More pain shot through his legs as his knees hit the porch decking.
Rustling noises…sounds of a struggle? Ned tried to stay upright, but he needed to lie down—no, he needed to help Charlotte. Where was she?
He rubbed his eyes against the darkness. His left hand came away wet, sticky. The side of his head throbbed.
“Ned!”
Panic drove him to his feet. “Ch—”
Fresh pain at the back of his head. Stars bloomed before his eyes and he fell forward, knees, chest, and chin hitting the floor. He rolled to his back.
A dark figure crouched over him. “Tell Admiral Sir Edward Witherington it is time for him to pay for the sins of his past. Until he does, the woman’s survival depends on the mercy of a pirate.”
Ned reached for the man’s throat, desperate for any means to stop him, but the pirate shoved his hands aside. Ned tried to pull himself up, but darkness swirled around him, drowning him. He fell back to the porch.
When he opened his eyes, all was silent. No movement, no rustle, no harsh breathing.
His head ached and spun. Something warm trickled down his cheek.
He pushed himself into a kneeling position. Taking hold of the porch railing, he hoisted himself up, no better than a hulled ship bobbing in a stormy sea. After a few wobbly steps, he found his sea legs.
“Charlotte?” He could muster only a whisper. No response came.
Finding the nearest open door, he staggered into the house, not knowing whose bedroom he entered. In the hallway, he turned around three times before taking a deep breath and getting his bearings. There, two doors down.
He barreled into his bedroom and ran right into the bench at the end of the bed. On it was his small traveling bag, as yet unpacked. He rummaged in it and finally wrapped his hand around the smooth butt of his pistol.
The door scraped farther open, and light flooded the room. Ned leveled the pistol at it.
“Sir, it’s me! Jeremiah.” The dark-skinned man held the lantern high, near his face. “I heard a commotion—”
“Come, I need your help.” Ned snatched the candle-filled lantern from the plantation’s overseer and hurried from the house. At the back he carefully descended the steps to the wide expanse of grassy lawn.
No moon. Almost complete blackness. He crossed the lawn toward the cane fields that surrounded the house. He’d seen a cut-through somewhere in this direction which appeared to lead to the inlet far below the hilltop-set house.
Rustling. Footsteps.
Ned stopped, raising the pistol. “Who goes there?”
“Commodore William Ransome. Identify yourself.”
“Captain Ned Cochrane.” He nearly collapsed with relief—and dread. He stopped and leaned over, his head pounding.
Jeremiah took the lantern from him.
“Jeremiah? What—?” Julia Ransome appeared from behind her husband’s back.
Ned straightened. He had to tell the commodore and his wife about Charlotte.
Mrs. Ransome gasped and rushed forward, pressing a handkerchief to Ned’s left temple. “What happened?”
Wincing at the pressure she put on the injury, he took the cloth from her and wiped the worst of the blood from his face.
“Pirates.” He spat the word. “They attacked me from behind. The blow disoriented me. By the time I could see straight, they were gone.”
Ned locked eyes with William. “They took Charlotte.”