In The Arms Of My Pirate

A Desperate Farewell

Charles gasped in pain.

His mind went numb, and all he could hear was the sound of mosquitos buzzing in his ears.

Octavia's lips broke away from his.

He blinked. Slowly, he stared down at the cherry-handled knife that she plunged into his gut.

William's knife.

Once again he had been betrayed by the one closest to him.

"Why?" he gasped, swaying on his feet.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "it's the only thing I can do to save you."

She turned and ran. Her dark hair reflected the moonlight as she disappeared into the gathering fog.

Charles sank to his knees and reached a shaking hand for the knife. His fingers brushed over the hilt, hesitating. He knew if he pulled it out it, he would bleed out quicker.

But for the first time... he didn't want to die.

Nightmares of what would happen to Octavia filled his mind. He shook his head to clear his blurry vision.

No. Not like this.

He struggled to his feet, but then his legs gave out beneath him and he tipped to the side. He landed heavily in the sandy dirt.

"Monsieur Lafitte, over here!" the quartermaster shouted.

Charles gritted his teeth, stretching his finger towards his saber, which had fallen several feet away.

Torches illuminated the woods around him. Someone grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. He groaned in pain, blood oozing from around the knife's blade.

"It's Captain Atwell, sir," Arseneau, the quartermaster, shouted.

"Charles?" Lafitte slid to a stop beside Charles, spraying sandy dirt into the air. "What are you doing here?" he asked, suspicion glowing in his eyes.

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but another voice broke in.

"Cap'n saw the woman escape and ordered for us to follow."

Bloody Benny. Somehow, he had joined the hunting party.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Bloody Benny dropped beside him and pressed on his shoulder, forcing him down.

Charles groaned in pain.

"I'll look after him," Bloody Benny said to Lafitte.

Lafitte glared at them for a moment. He bent and touched the blood staining Charles' shirt. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers. Finally, he nodded. "Keep him alive."

Lafitte stood and pointed to Octavia's trail leading into the trees.

"Capture her. She's tried to kill one of our own!" he shouted.

The men howled with delight at the chase, shaking their weapons in the air. Darkness gathered around the woods again as the torches retreated into the distance, following Octavia's footprints in the dirt.

***

Octavia's feet screamed with pain, and she paused against a tree. Blood oozed from the open sores inside her overly large boots, causing her feet to slide.

She looked down at the blood on her hands and closed her eyes tightly. A sob escaped her throat.

It was his blood on her hands.

Octavia wiped them fervently on her stomach, desperately trying to wipe it off, but it had already started to dry. A red stain remained.

Did it work? She wondered. Lafitte seemed to bear a familial affection for Charles. Surely the sight of him bloodied and injured would...?