Charlotte & the Pirate Read online

  But she was given little choice. Manhandled and half-carried, the pirates dragged her aboard the other ship. The melee had been confined to Charlotte's vessel, and it seemed better organized on the pirate boat, where men moved around as though they'd practiced the dance many times before.

  There was a tall man giving orders from near the mainmast. He was armed with two old-fashioned pistols, one in a belt that crossed his chest and one in his right hand. Just seeing his saturnine face, the fire-lightened deep blue of his eyes, and the arch of his thick brows gave Charlotte pause. A dark, well-groomed goatee with pointed beard surrounded his cruel lips. He wore a black tricorne hat with gold braid around the brim over his shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair, a long blue coat with gold braid and silver buttons, black knee breeches, and square-toed shoes with grey stockings gartered at the knee. He looked sinister, dangerous and like the stuff of nightmares. But there was still something about him that appealed to Charlotte, something that made her stare at him. Men of her century were so much less intimidating. This man, this pirate, looked like someone who wouldn't take no for an answer. And, in fact, Charlotte wondered if she could make herself say no to anything he might demand. She was conflicted by her contrary interest in the man and the knowledge that he was a scary figure in what was fast becoming a nightmare.

  Men around him deferred to him, shouting their questions and receiving low-voiced commands in return.

  When a man ran in Charlotte's direction, the pirate caught a look at her. He waved a hand and her two captors dragged her, kicking and fighting, toward him.

  "Cap'n, we caught ourselves a prize. This one's a fighter, she is. Nearly bit me. But we know yer orders about beating women, so we didn't do nothin' but hold 'er tighter."

  "Let me go!" Charlotte demanded.

  The captain nodded, and Tinker pushed her down to her knees and let her go.

  Thrilled to have her arms freed, Charlotte rubbed her bruises while she glared at the pirate who stood way, way up there as she knelt at his feet. She tried to scramble up, but Tinker pushed her back down with a growl.

  "Dammit…Ouch!" A pinprick between Charlotte's brows confused her. She tried again to stand. "Damn it…" Another pinprick. Finally, she got the idea. Romantek imposed accuracy on the language used in a RAVE. "Scum!" No pinprick. So, she had to speak in their old English. "Unhand me. I will not be your captive!"

  "But you are," he said, his lips turning up at the corners as though he was amused. "You are aboard my vessel, surrounded by men loyal to me, and soon, the ship you sailed on will be at the bottom of the sea. You are mine and I will do what I want with you."

  Shivers ran down Charlotte's torso, peaking her nipples. The pirate's smile got wider as his eyes traveled to her breasts. He hadn't missed her reaction. He didn't seem like the kind of man who missed much of anything. And his cultured speech set him apart from the others as much as his clean and rich clothing.

  Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the evidence. "This is outrageous!"

  He approached and reached down to tilt her head up higher, gesturing to one of his men to bring a lantern. His gaze lit on her scar but did not linger there, instead locking on her mouth and next, her eyes. The blue of his irises flickered with green glitter in the lantern light. "What is your name?"

  "Charlotte."

  "Well, Mistress Charlotte, I am Captain Rex Masters, and you are aboard the Stealthy Dog, my ship. This will be your home until you're ransomed. To whom shall I apply?"

  "Apply?"

  "For the ransom," he said on a chuckle.

  "I don't—ouch!" Charlotte took a deep breath. This old-fashioned language was going to take some getting used to. "I do not know. I am an orphan."

  He let her face go and his look hardened. "More's the pity. For you, that is. With no value in coin, we shall have to take our price some other way." He waved a hand at his men. "Take her below." He turned away and shouted orders at his men. Charlotte guessed that they were making ready to sail away from the other ship now that their booty had been taken.

  "I am not done with you!" Charlotte shouted at his back. Tinker grabbed her and started to drag her away. "You bastard," she called as she flailed against her captor. "I don't give a damn who you are or what the name is of this crappy boat. Ow!" She rubbed her smarting forehead, but the pinprick left her undaunted. "I demand that you let me go!"

  Masters turned and walked back to her. "Feisty. I like that." He gave Charlotte's chin a tap with one forefinger. "To a point. I expect you to mind me while you are here. This is my ship and you live by my rules."

  "And if I don't? Ouch!" Charlotte gritted her teeth and tried again. "If I do not?"

  He had the gall to laugh. "There will be consequences. I will not be taken to task, or made demands of by a mere slip of a girl."

  Enraged by his condescending attitude, Charlotte smacked him on his broad chest. He grabbed her wrist and held it firmly, not exactly hurting her, but definitely showing her the error of her ways. "That is enough from you," he said mildly, his blue eyes sparkling with green speckles. He had remarkable eyes. Charlotte had never seen anything like them before.

  Giving herself a mental shake, Charlotte continued her aggression, snatching her wrist free. She had the impression that he chose to let her go. The strength in his hand suggested that he could have held her that way for as long as he liked.

  "Bastard."

  "No," he said calmly. "But I do not think you meant it literally in any case. You must understand, my dear, that you are my prisoner until I decide what to do with you."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means that you will behave."

  "Be at your beck and call, you mean? Because I will not. I refuse."

  This time he frowned. "Charlotte, this is not a request. You will cease your tantrum or I will see that you realize your predicament most fully."

  "Ha! What are you going to do? Make me walk the plank? Is that not what you pirates do?"

  His lips smiled, but his eyes did not. "Nothing that permanent. And I am not a pirate. I carry letters of marque. My ship sails under the flag of England."

  Charlotte hadn't noticed any flags. She'd assumed. "Fine. Whatever. Ouch! I mean, fine, I understand. But when you make port, I demand to be released. And I demand fair treatment in the meantime."

  "Oh," he said, "I shall be fair, so long as you behave."

  "I shall not grovel to you, if that is what you mean."

  "I have had enough of your disrespect," he said, nearly growling. "Another harsh word out of you and I'll beat you soundly."

  Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face. Beat her? "You would not."

  "Try me."

  Masters' remarkable eyes bored into hers and something impish had her mouth going before her brain. "You are a pompous ass. I will not follow your…" Her voice trailed off at the look on his face. "…orders."

  He nodded once and then locked his hand on her wrist, pulling her across the deck and into a large cabin, where he sat upon a chair behind a map table. Charlotte protested, but within moments, she was yanked over his lap, where she balanced precariously.

  "Let me go!"

  He did not. Instead, he smacked her behind with the flat of his hand. Even through her shift, it hurt like the dickens. "Ow! Stop that!" She beat on his leg with a fist, but her position was so unstable, all she managed to do was give him a love pat.

  Over and over he spanked her bottom until she was shouting and begging, making promises she had no intention of keeping.

  "Alright! I shall follow your orders! I am your servant!" More hard spanks; apparently, he didn't believe her. "Really! I promise!"

  "No more backtalk, Charlotte. This will be your fate every time you do."

  Her bottom was burning, each new slap giving her shudders. Tears were forming, but she refused to cry. He might master her this once, but she would not let him see her break down. "Aye! I understand! Please stop!"

  The spanking slo
wed and finally stopped. "We are done here," he said, helping Charlotte to stand. "You were brave, Charlotte; now be smart as well."

  "I hate you," she told him. The only problem was, she sounded like a petulant child rather than a scorched-bottomed woman with a spine.

  "If you must," he said with equanimity. "Now go." He stood and opened the door. "Tinker! Take her to the cabin below."

  Charlotte rubbed her sore behind. "Great. This sucks. Ouch!" She was getting better at the language, but apparently effort was not enough. Romantek jabbed her every time she made a mistake. They were brief pokes, so small they hardly registered as pain, but they insisted on her good behavior, much as Rex Masters had done. She truly regretted not paying better attention to the type of dream she was to experience. "Dream Pirate" must be a dream for masochists.

  Tinker came running, as though Charlotte was going to make a break for it. God only knew where Charlotte was supposed to escape to, out in the middle of the ocean.

  Tinker dragged her down a companionway to a door several decks below. He unlocked the portal and unceremoniously shoved her into the dark space. Charlotte sprawled to the floor. The door lock clicked as Tinker left her alone.

  Feeling her way around the room, Charlotte found nothing but a bed with a lumpy mattress and a scratchy blanket. She crawled onto the bed and tried to calm down.

  Rex Masters was confusing, and her spanked bottom suggested that he was also a threat. But was he real? Could he be a co-dreamer in this nasty adventure? If so, he was playing his part awfully well. If he'd only been kind and gentle, she'd have been able to reason with him instead of yelling like a fishwife. But Charlotte had been scared, upset, confused by her attraction to the barbarian. Although, he wasn't really a barbarian. He spoke well and had shown intelligence. But he spanked. What kind of Romantic Adventure Vacation Experience got you spanked?

  Confused and sore, Charlotte snuggled down under the blanket. She didn't know if she could sleep, but she could rest. Suddenly a thought struck her. The Romantek liaison had explained that Charlotte could simply close her eyes for a few minutes and the RAVE would start a new day. No actual sleep was needed and she couldn't get sleepy while dreaming. So, hoping for a better day ahead, Charlotte closed her eyes.

  Chapter 2

  The door slammed open with a bang. "Get yer arse outta bed!"

  Charlotte sat bolt upright, thankful for the lantern light from the passageway outside the doorway. She couldn't make out the features of the rough fellow who'd yelled at her, because he was in shadow, but she could certainly tell by his voice that he meant business. "Out! Get outta there or I'll be comin' to get ya!"

  "What do you want?" Charlotte yelled back.

  "No backtalk from you, Missy," he growled. "Get movin'!"

  Charlotte figured that staying in bed all day was a bad plan anyway. She needed to stay dreaming in order for her scar to fade away, but some perverse sense of adventure in her also wanted to see what the day might bring.

  Grumbling, Charlotte got out of the bed and stood near it, her wrinkled shift and leather slippers all she wore. Her hair must look affright, and she could see blonde tendrils sticking out near her face.

  "Where are you taking me?" Charlotte asked the pirate, who stood impatiently, still framed in the doorway.

  "Cap'n Masters wants ta see ya. Don't know why."

  Charlotte didn't want to see Masters; he scared her for a variety of reasons. "What if I don't want to go?"

  "Ye really want to go kickin' and screamin'? It be no matter ta me." He took a pair of steps into the cabin and grabbed Charlotte's arm. She struggled free.

  "Leave me be! I shall go."

  He pushed and prodded her up the companionway and into the sunlight. Charlotte's eyes smarted from the glare off the water, so she narrowed them to slits as they made their way across the deck. The air was fresh and the wind was blowing from the front of the ship, making the full sails and rigging sing. Sailors were going about their business, and one was sitting in a corner, playing a stringed instrument. The door to the captain's cabin was ajar when they stopped in front of it. The pirate knocked on the frame. "Cap'n? I brought the woman."

  "Come in."

  The captain's voice gave Charlotte shivers, but she stuck out her chin stubbornly, unwilling to show any weakness. Still, she got shoved into the cabin. This time, Charlotte had a moment to look around. It was a big room, considering the size of the ship, and had a long table with maps upon it, as well as two chairs and a big bed, neatly made with a blue comforter and fluffy-looking pillows. There was a tall mirror in a frame near one wall, reflecting the tidy room and its occupants, and two small trunks, one of which was open and had a neat row of books showing. Paper books. Not the digital books she read in her own time.

  Standing by the map table stood the captain of the Stealthy Dog.

  The pirate who'd brought her in shoved her down to her knees. "Show yer respect."

  "Damn you," Charlotte snapped, her ire directed at the man in charge. "I demand better treatment. If you want something in return for my safety, you had better start dealing with me as an equal." It was a gambit, but Charlotte figured she might as well try it.

  "Very well. You may stand." His appearance had changed little from the day before, except he wore no hat, and because he had his hair in a queue at his neck, she could see the glint of a single silver dangly earring on his left earlobe. So, in some ways, he did have modern sensibilities. Or, at least, the men of this time had no issues with jewelry.

  Masters' voice was so deep, like honey in her ears, but Charlotte didn't want to like anything about him, especially after her spanking the day before. She dusted off her sleeves and fussed with her shift, needing a pause while she gathered her thoughts.

  "That will be all, Will," Masters told the sailor as he gestured toward the door.

  "Aye, aye, Cap'n." The door closed firmly behind him as he left.

  * * * * *

  The apartment was quiet for a change. His neighbors and their annoying children were out for a time. A cool draught flowed along the floor where he sat with his legs crossed. The sandalwood incense he used to help him concentrate was sweet and light. Esharveer was meditating deeply, focusing on the chip next to his skull. He'd been working on the problem obsessively. There was nothing else on his mind but revenge against Romantek and the stupid jerks that called themselves managers but who were really some sort of paranoid wannabe psychologists. How dare they fire him; how dare they suggest that he need a mental health professional! Esharveer Jaggi was not crazy, and Romantek was foolish to insult him. He was smart, a genius in fact, and more than a match for their small minds. He had a plan and it was going to work.

  He paused, re-focusing, drifting back into his contemplation of the problem. The chip he'd stolen was like gold, and would pave his way into Romantek's system, if only he could find the back door he'd put in place. He'd been close more than a few times over the past few days, and the timing was becoming critical. He knew Marie Carthage was scheduled to enter her new dream soon, and he had to find a way to be in the system in time to affect it.

  Marie was his tool. Not that she knew it, of course; she didn't. But if he got into her dream and made it a nightmare she couldn't wake from, the scandal would be huge, and Romantek would be ruined. She was rich and prominent. Her lawyers would tear Romantek apart and what they couldn't ruin, they'd drag through the mud of public opinion. The Romantek imbeciles prided themselves on an unbreakable security system, but Esharveer knew there was no such thing. The right person, the right brilliant mind, could overcome cyber security and terrorize at will. Esharveer was that person.

  With his eyes still closed, he mouthed instructions into his computer. It had a sensor that could read his face and decipher his mouth's movements as he made silent words. His commands would be immediately carried out by his system and it would send a new instruction to the chip in his scalp, which in turn would send a signal to Romantek's security programs.
/>   Esharveer prodded the wall between his mind and their protocols.

  He saw code behind his eyelids, code that looked familiar! He had made it into Romantek's system! Yes!

  The signal dissolved. He was too excited. He needed to calm himself and be a machine—a machine with one purpose, with one goal. He had to find that back door and exploit it before it was discovered by some bright-eyed Romantek programmer and nailed shut.

  He hummed in monotone, focusing on his breath and visualizing the code he was looking for.

  Slowly, he made it back into the Romantek operation. This time, although he knew he would be triumphant, he also willed himself not to celebrate too soon. He still had a long way to go.

  * * * * *

  "I have clothes for you," Masters told Charlotte.

  "You do?"

  He gestured to a trunk near his bed. "I do. I believe they are yours, in fact."

  "They are?"

  "You do not recognize your trunk?"

  Charlotte clamped her mouth shut. If she had been a passenger on the other ship, of course she would recognize her own trunk. She didn't, but she didn't want to give herself away and shorten the dream. Romantek had made it quite clear that unless she wanted to leave the dream entirely, she was to play along.

  "I have touched nothing within it, except to see that it contains women's clothes. Go. See for yourself."

  Clothes would be awfully nice. She approached the chest and opened it cautiously. The smell of lavender wafted over her in a pleasant wave. Inside were folded things. Charlotte drew out a pink piece, and found it was a puffy skirt. Beneath it was a bodice, also pink, but with embroidered flowers and a funny cape-like, flowing panel in the back. Under that was a voluminous underskirt, like a starched slip with flounces. Charlotte had no idea how to put these garments on, but Romantek knew. Beneath all the pink stuff was a painted fashion plate, showing a lady wearing the pink costume. From that, Charlotte could figure it out.

  "Aye, this is my trunk."

  Masters was about to answer when he suddenly paused, his mild expression turning to a frown. Distracted, the captain took his hat off a peg on the wall and moved around the table, heading for the door. He threw orders to Charlotte as he made to leave. "You may dress in here, Charlotte. I'll send my steward to help with the laces."