In The Arms Of My Pirate

Someone Else's Woman

Charles stumbled back, as shocked as if he had been struck by lightning atop the crow's nest. His gut twisted painfully. "Fiancée?"

Octavia's pale cheeks reddened, and she looked away, as if ashamed.

Finally she nodded.

Another man climbed aboard the ship, his portly belly far too wide for a man who truly worked the seas alongside his crew. His hat marked him as a British Commodore.

"Found a damsel in distress, I see," the Commodore guffawed at Captain Hillington.

"Commodore Lockyer, sir," Captain Hillington clicked his heels together and dipped his head, unable to salute with Octavia in his arms.

"Miss Palmer, sir," he said. "The fiancée of whom I spoke about so often."

Commodore Lockyer nodded. "And the so-called Pirate King?" he asked, looking around.

"Jean Lafitte escaped onto a rowboat," William interjected, coming to stand beside Charles. "But our men cornered him. He has raised the white flag."

The Commodore nodded. "Very well. Arrest the pirates and lock them in our brig," he said.

The British navy men grabbed Charles by his upper arms and began to drag him to the edge of the ship.

He fought against them, reopening his wound. "Unhand me!" he shouted. "I'm not leaving her!"

Charles managed to rip one arm away from a navy man and strained to reach Octavia again. He held out his hand, willing her to look up at him again. Her face, sweaty and pale, turned away from him.

Captain Hillington backed up a step, tightening his arms around her protectively.

She gasped in pain, and Charles immediately backed away. His heart thudded as her face contorted.

"I'll be alright," she said weakly.

Then, her eyes rolled up, and her head sagged backward.

"Take her to the doctor," William ordered.

Captain Hillington nodded, and Charles was forced to watch as Octavia was carried away in the arms of another man. No, not just any other man. One who claimed to be her fiance.

The rest of the sailors herded the pirates toward the edge of the boat, but William held up a hand.

"Not this one," he said.

Reluctantly, the sailors released Charles' arms.

He glared at them, shrugging his shoulders to relieve the ache. They had wrenched his arms behind his back enough that his tendons felt like snapped rubber.

"A pirate captain should be placed with the rest of the crew," Commodore Lockyer said, sniffing haughtily.

"I have unfinished business with this one," William said curtly.

Commodore Lockyer eyed him. "Do not forget the true purpose of our mission."

William nodded, his steely gaze unwavering.

The Commodore sighed and waved his fingers through the air. "As you wish, but if he is out of your sight, he must be in the brig."

Charles narrowed his eyes at William. Unfinished business. Was William so ashamed to acknowledge him as his brother-in-law? Then again, he was a pirate. Would that change how Lottie and Fidelia saw him?

The rest of the pirates were loaded onto rowboats and carted off to the British ship, The Sophie. Charles watched, the muscles in his jaw working. David and Oliver looked over their shoulders at him, eyes wide with fear. He had saved them from death at the hands of pirates when they'd first been captured... but now he had delivered them to the British gallows.