King of Libertines Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Author's Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  Other Books by Pam Godwin

  Sea of Ruin Chapter 1

  Sea of Ruin Chapter 2

  Sea of Ruin Chapter 3

  Other Books by Pam Godwin

  About Pam Godwin

  Copyright © 2020 by Pam Godwin

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Pam Godwin

  Interior Designer: Pam Godwin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author.

  Visit my website at pamgodwin.com

  This novella chronologically falls between Chapters 5 and 6 of SEA OF RUIN.

  This can be read before or after SEA OF RUIN.

  It is bonus material and doesn’t spoil the main story.

  SEA OF RUIN is a full-length stand-alone novel.

  CLICK HERE to download it now.

  I met him on a hot and rainy day.

  The clouds hung low. The sea swelled high, and his eyes glinted the stormiest shade of gray.

  The moment he stepped onto my ship, his arrogant scowl confessed two things. One, he was rakishly, offensively handsome. Two, he wasn’t impressed to find a woman captaining the fifty-gun galleon.

  Not that I cared a whit what any man thought.

  It was the summer of 1719. The British had just defeated the Jacobites. The French had laid their beloved Jean-Baptiste de La Salle to rest. The Governor of the Bahamas had granted the king’s pardon to my old friend, Calico Jack. And a rare few women—yes, the gentler, weaker sex—were joining the echelons of seafaring, hell-raising ruffians who plundered the West Indies.

  I wasn’t the first lady pirate who feared neither God nor man nor death. And I wouldn’t be the last.

  With rain slanting off my wide-brimmed hat and soaking through my linen corset and trousers, I blew a blonde curl from my face and cast a fleeting glance across the upper deck.

  And stumbled into surly gray eyes for the hundredth time.

  Tall and ruggedly lean, the stranger braced his boots shoulder-width apart, flexing power through his warrior stance. Leather straps and steel blades dangled about a trim waist. Brown breeches molded around long legs and tucked into black boots. Within the V of his open shirt, a sculpted, sun-bronzed chest attested to the physical demands of a life at sea.

  Oh, he was one of the Brethren of the Black Flag, to be certain. A fearsome pirate, through and through. But there was more to him than violence and mayhem.

  The sinuous curve of lips, the casual drape of an arm over the rail, the predatory eyes that tracked my every move… Even at a distance, he positively radiated seduction.

  But I didn’t need a companion to warm my bed. I had plenty of those waiting in every port. What I needed were more gunners.

  He’d boarded the ship with another man, looking for work. Between the pair of them, there was enough well-thewed muscle and youthful stamina to take on the king’s navy from a gundeck. By God, I bet they could feed eighteen-pounders into the snouts of iron guns all day without breaking a sweat.

  They loitered along the larboard bow, waiting to meet the ship’s captain. I wouldn’t make them wait much longer. But first, I had to deal with the disobedient crew member staring down at me.

  Saunders stood three hands taller than my female height. Despite his oily hair and crooked, sun-blistered nose, he wasn’t an ugly English tar. Just lazy and unmindful sometimes.

  Today’s dereliction earned him a fist across the face as I shouted with all the fury of a disappointed captain. He tucked his bearded chin to his chest and wrung his hat in his hands, his mouth a grim slash of shame.

  Further chastisement wasn’t needed. He wouldn’t be falling asleep during his watch again.

  “When this rain lets up,” I said, “I want the decks swabbed until they shine like new.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  His eagerness to please injected steel into my spine as I strode through the rain toward the two potential recruits. Keeping my eyes on my boots, I measured my steps to avoid a slip on the wet planks.

  Tropical showers fell briefly and often in the West Indies, but never with such churning energy in the air. It gathered like a lightning storm and skated a prickling fever across my skin. When I looked up, a gasp escaped me.

  Close enough to touch, I stared into a face that could’ve been chiseled from rich marble. The shadow of stubble didn’t blunt the squared angles. Nor did the fringes of lashes soften the intensity.

  This close, his eyes shocked my heart. So pale and luminous, the irises were startlingly, inhumanly colorless.

  His hair fell wildly about his shoulders in hues of brown, the top half braided with shell beads and scraped back into a leather queue, lending him an exotic air. Add to that the wide pillar of his neck and a physique stacked with foreboding strength… I’d never met a man as intimidating and beautiful as this one.

  It took multiple swallows to clear my throat. “Welcome aboard Jade.”

  “Jade?” His forehead beetled as he glanced around, giving the galleon a closer look. “Edric Sharp’s Jade?”

  “She’s my ship.” Uneasiness swelled in the space between my heart and stomach.

  Numerous galleons cruised the high seas, but none so notorious as this one. My father had seized it from a Spanish treasure fleet. For me.

  Removing the figurehead, flags, and other distinguishing features made it less identifiable. Hopefully, less of a target for the Royal Navy, pirate hunters, sea marauders—anyone seeking to capture Edric Sharp’s only child.

  I’d willfully signed up for this life, one that put me on the run. Murder and piracy came with the territory, and I owned that. Just like my father before he died.

  Grief trickled through my chest, and my hand fell to the compass at my hip, the last thing he’d given me. I missed him desperately, with an ache that would never fade. But I buried it, deep down beneath the calm of a windless sea, forbidding any vulnerability to show.

  “I’m Bennett Sharp.”

  “The legendary daughter?” Silver eyes narrowed into disbelieving slits. “I thought you were a fantasy, invented by lonely, maniacal men.”

  “Perhaps I am.” I shrugged. “And you are?”

  “Priest.” He leaned against the ship’s rail, scrutinizing me. “Priest Farrell.”

  I almost laughed. “Does your name reflect your purpose, Priest?”

  “Only men who are virtuous serve the Lord.”

  “You strive to cheat God, then?”

  “God, Man, and Devil.” His lips flattened. No hint of humor.

  “Since I’m none of those three, shall I presume you won’t cheat me?”

  Now he smiled, canines sharp and white, tensing my stomach.

  Charming.

  And therein lies the wolf.

  The man he’d arrived with made a grunting sound. “He’ll bed you, Captain. Then he’ll cheat you.”

  He could try.

  “I beg your pardon, madam.” Priest held up a finger. “This will only take a moment.”

  In the next breath, he swept out a leg and had the other man on the deck beneath him, pounding his fists into flesh. The defendant countered with his own punches, and a breath later, they exploded into a full-fledge scuffle.

  During the span of the past five years, I’d seen e
nough bloodletting and carnage to numb the senses. If these miscreants were part of my crew, I would end the dispute and punish them justly.

  But since I didn’t know them, this was a fine opportunity to appraise their endurance, pain tolerance, and fighting skills.

  May the best man win. And perhaps earn himself a job.

  I stepped to the side as they rolled, lunged to their feet, and swung again. Each man absorbed and delivered hits in turn. Grunts rent the air. Blood sprayed the deck. But not once did I sense a loss of control. They seemingly fought, not to maim or injure, but to prove a point, as if this was how they established boundaries between them.

  They jabbed and dodged, charged and parried, flowing together like water, like they’d done this a million times. Were they friends? Or kin?

  Similar heights and builds. The skin on their palms and beneath their collars, where the sun didn’t often reach, had a European pallor.

  The second man wore his hair unfashionably short, cropped up the sides, leaving a rebellious brown stripe from forehead to nape. Six gold rings adorned the curve of his ear. Not a whisker on his hard jaw.

  In snug-fitting breeches and a black tunic, he was as wickedly handsome as Priest. Only, when he stole glances at me, my blood didn’t heat as if I’d been pumped full of rum.

  Unlike Priest, whose intoxicating gaze made my limbs go limp, my stomach flutter, and my thoughts slide into drunken chaos.

  It didn’t matter who won this fight, I couldn’t invite a distraction like Priest Farrell into my life.

  All at once, the rain dried up, and the men broke apart. Chests heaving, knuckles bleeding, they returned to their reclined positions against the rail as if naught had happened. There was no clear winner, but I sensed they’d just settled some private dispute.

  “Back to work, lads.” I waved off the few crewmates who had gathered to watch the action.

  As they dispersed, I became uncomfortably aware of the sun that now baked through the thinning clouds. Or maybe it was the sweltering heat emitting from the two men staring at me.

  I focused on the one with short hair and brown eyes. “Your name, sir?”

  “Reynolds Farrell.”

  Same surname. Same accent.

  I flicked my gaze between them. “You’re brothers.”

  “We share the same father.” Priest spat a glob of blood over the gunwale. “Nothing more.”

  They didn’t look alike. But they spoke the king’s English in the same mesmerizing lilt, making the vowels sound rounder, more desirable.

  My mother came from England, my father from Ireland. But those weren’t the only accents I knew. “You’re Welsh.”

  Reynolds nodded. “And you’re from the colonies.”

  Carolina, to be exact. But none among my crew knew my upbringing. I’d left my mother’s landlubbing life behind to follow my father’s love for the sea.

  I shifted my gaze toward the shoreline of New Providence that lay a hazy distance to larboard. As recent as last year, it had been the home base for over a thousand pirates. But now, even Nassau was no longer safe for my kind.

  “Where were you before anchoring in Nassau?” I asked.

  “I spent these past eighteen months serving as a quartermaster on a Dutch expedition.” Reynolds crossed his arms. “We’ve been exploring the coastline of New Holland. Have you heard of it?”

  My breath caught. “You mean the Southern Land? Terra Australis?”

  “Aye.”

  “That’s on the other side of the world!” I couldn’t believe it. “What’s it like?”

  “The land stretches to the ends of the earth, and the creatures… It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.” His eyes glimmered. “There are deerlike beasts that stand as tall as a man and hop on large hind feet, and they have these pouches…” He gestured at his abdomen. “To carry their young.”

  “Truly?” I shook my head, trying to imagine it.

  He dazzled me with stories of colorful birds, lethargic bears, and indigenous peoples who hunted with curved throwing tools that spun through the air and returned to the hunter as if guided by magic.

  Then I asked him about his duties as quartermaster, absorbing his answers with blooming excitement. My current first mate was long in the tooth, riddled with health issues, and itching to retire. I might have just found his replacement.

  Priest remained silent throughout the conversation, his elbows braced on the rail at his back, and his gaze never straying from mine.

  “Why didn’t you join the expedition with Reynolds?” I squinted at him.

  “I’m a raider.” He scoffed. “Not an explorer.”

  “Yet you don’t have a ship?”

  “Not presently. When the need arises, I take one under my command.”

  I heard his meaning loud and clear.

  Pirates acquired ships through terror, cannon fire, and invasion. If a raider was well-spoken and authoritative, he could inspire any crew to overthrow their captain and vote himself in.

  Priest oozed cunning and authority. God knew I could use his strength on my gundeck, but not at the risk of losing command of my ship.

  Decision made, I turned to Reynolds. “If you wish to sail with us, I need a new quartermaster. Wait for me in my cabin, and I’ll show you the Articles.”

  If I had any concern about where his loyalties would fall—with his brother or his new captain—it vanished the moment he strode toward my cabin without a backward glance at Priest.

  No love lost.

  I nudged up the brim of my hat and raised my face toward the other man.

  Priest met my regard. Then he stole my breath, my voice, and perhaps my very sanity.

  He was, quite impossibly, even more gorgeous than five minutes ago. Shafts of Caribbee sunlight bore through the clouds, drying his hair and gilding his skin. The bumps and scrapes swelling on his face only added to his rough-hewn allure.

  Definition of muscle, tendon, and bone drew my gaze along his body, every inch so enticingly masculine and perfectly sculpted. Those long legs. That serious mouth. Those stormy gray eyes… Sweet sisters of the child Jesus, his stare went deep. Devouring. Dangerous.

  He pushed off the rail and erased the distance in two prowling strides. When he stepped into my space, my sharp inhale flooded with the tangled scents of leather, ocean, and something spicier, darker… Something uniquely, sinfully him.

  Leaning closer, he curled the heat of his body around mine without touching. My palms slicked. My heart racketed, and a deep swelling throb flared between my legs.

  Never had a man’s proximity affected me so swiftly and completely.

  Get rid of him, Bennett.

  “Since I don’t wish to be bedded or cheated, I have no need for your services.” I leaned back to meet his eyes. “Remove yourself from my ship, if you please.”

  He stared down the length of his nose, not a trace of surprise or disappointment shining in those beautiful features.

  Then he shifted, angled his head beneath the brim of my hat, and drew closer. So close his lips brushed my cheek as he spoke.

  “When you change your mind…” His voice was smooth, rich, and deliciously dark. “Reynolds will know where to find me.”

  I shivered through a rushing torrent of heart beats.

  He turned, swung over the gunwale, and descended the ladder to the waiting jolly boat.

  When he vanished over the side, all the air—and its unsettling energy—went with him.

  The next evening, I sat behind the desk in my cabin, staring hard at my compass as if I could unlock the blasted thing through sheer will alone.

  When my father gave it to me, he said it was a map to the wealth he’d accumulated through two decades of pirating. He also alluded to a key, suggesting that when I was ready, I would figure it out.

  Well, it had been five years, and I was no closer to breaking open the compass than I was at age fourteen.

  With a weary sigh, I set it on the desk and hunched down to study it
from a different angle.

  “Is it broken?” Reynolds sat across from me, writing in his notebook.

  Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d settled seamlessly into his role as the new quartermaster. After filling that notebook with a list of the day-to-day operations of the ship, he spent the morning recruiting men for the gun crew and handling the collection of food, water, and wood for our impending voyage.

  Now, I just needed to figure out our destination.

  “The compass works.” I rotated it slowly and tilted my head, examining the polished brass edges.

  My crewmates understood this instrument meant more to me than anything in the world. But they didn’t know it was a map to Edric Sharp’s treasure. They didn’t even know the treasure existed. I trusted no one with that information—especially not a man I met only yesterday.

  But as my quartermaster, he would need an explanation for why I spent so much time in my cabin, attempting to break apart a perfectly good compass.

  “My father gave this to me. It’s some kind of puzzle.”

  His eyebrows knitted. “What does it solve?”

  The location of unfathomable plunder. Riches beyond what my crew could ever want or need in a lifetime.

  More than that, I hoped it led me to a letter from my father, parting words of love, something from him I could absorb into my soul.

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my head and sat back. “Whatever it is, I need it. We need it.”

  “May I see it?” He held out a large hand.

  My hackles bristled, and everything inside me screamed protectively. I kept my expression neutral, however, and passed it to him with feigned indifference.

  He lifted the lid. Fiddled with the navigational needle. Swiveled north to south and back again. “Is there a key?”

  “Yes. But I don’t know if it’s a physical object, a lever, a code, or something else entirely. There’s no visible keyhole.”

  “You’re certain it’s a puzzle?” He handed it back.

  “I’m certain it’s more than a compass.” I marked the flash in his eyes and his quick attempt to empty his expression. “What are you not saying? Do you know how to unlock it?”