In The Arms Of My Pirate

Captain Charles Atwell

Octavia shoved Oliver down behind a barrel. As the ship lurched, she stumbled across the deck to the overhang of the poop deck, crouching in the shadows.

The pirates on the ship beside them shouted triumphantly, swinging across the gap.

She pulled her pistol from her waistband and held it at the ready, her heart thudding in her throat.

Boots landed heavily on the deck and the pirates fanned out.

"Search the hold," a rat-faced man shouted over the storm, his rotted teeth flashing in a grin.

As man ducked into the shadows beside her, freezing when he spotted her crouched figure.

Octavia gritted her teeth and squeezed the trigger. The hammer clicked, but that was it. The gunpowder had been soaked when she fell into the water.

The man laughed and reached for her. She chucked the pistol at him and rolled out of the way.

The man shouted in anger, clutching at his bruised forehead.

"Got a runner!" he shouted.

Octavia lurched to her feet and bolted.

Men surrounded her, their swords drawn. She snatched a broken piece of wood from the deck and held it aloft, breathing hard. She couldn't let them get closer. She would be discovered... and the only thing that awaited her was something worse than death.

One man swung at her. She lifted the piece of wood with both hands, catching the blade in the middle. He bore down on her, forcing her to her knees. She rolled to the side, letting the sword slide off the wood. It bit into the waterlogged deck and the man growled.

She swung the wood as hard as she could, smacking the man in the back of the head as he twisted. He slumped to the ground.

The pirate crew shouted in surprise.

She snarled like a rabid dog and swung the wood in a circle around her, forcing the men to step back.

"Got spirit for an English boy," the rat-faced crew member laughed. He taunted her, wiggling the sword in her direction.

She batted it away with the wood. At the same moment, someone shoved her from behind. The wood flew from her hand and she sprawled onto the deck, water splashing into her eyes.

Instinctively, Octavia clutched the edges of her oilskin coat together to hide her figure, curling into a ball.

A powerful hand gripped the scruff of her neck, yanking her to her feet. She struggled and twisted, slipping her neck out of the hold.

The man grabbed Octavia by the shirtfront and yanked her closer. She shrank back, trying to duck her head.

"Slippery little runt--" the captain's words broke off sharply as he looked down.

Octavia realized with horror that he had pulled her shirt front away from her skin, giving him a clear view down her front.

Desperation took hold, and her fingers slipped beneath the oilskin.

With a shout of fury, Octavia drew the cherry-handled knife from her waistband and plunged it toward the man's chest. He caught her wrist easily, twisting it painfully to the side. She gasped, looking up into his face.

Blue eyes as stormy as the surrounding sea glared down at Octavia from beneath a captain's hat. Rainwater dripping from the edges of his firm jaw. The rest of his face was cast in dark shadows.

Trapped in his tight hold, dread slid down her spine like the chilly rain. This was it. She was dead for certain.

Slowly, the man looked from her face to the cherry-handled blade dangling from her fingers. His eyes widened. He yanked the handle from her grip and turned it over. He paused, gaze fixed on the letters C.A. carved into the side.