Charlotte & the Pirate Read online

  "Alright," she responded, but he'd left the room.

  Eyeing the ewer and basin on the stand near the screen in the room, Charlotte decided that she had time for a quick wash. She felt sticky and dirty from her time in captivity. This place might not have a sonic mist shower, but there was water, and that would have to be enough. A linen cloth lay folded beneath the basin and Charlotte gave herself a sponge bath, trying to avoid the worried hazel eyes that stared back at her from the mirror. Her scar throbbed with her agitation, but it wasn't exactly pain. It was a reminder of why she was doing this, and how important it was to finish what she'd started.

  After her wash, she put on a clean chemise. It was long, like the last one, but she felt modestly covered enough to allow for the steward to see her when he knocked on the cabin door.

  It took awhile and the patient help of the steward, but Charlotte got dressed. She felt much better in the costume, which fit her perfectly and flattered her, drawing her waist in very tightly and emphasizing her hourglass shape. The color was perfect for her as well. Although there was a white wig in the trunk, Charlotte chose to wear her own hair, pulled up in a knot on the top of her head, with a few dark blonde curls cascading at the crown, and ringlets at her ears. There was no jewelry in the trunk, but then…maybe the pirates had taken that for themselves. They'd hardly have need of women's clothes, but jewelry could be sold. Nonetheless, she felt much more put together when she left the cabin and went back into the early morning sunlight.

  Out on the deck, Charlotte realized that she had no idea where to go. Rex Masters was up by the ship's wheel, peering through a long spyglass at a speck on the horizon. Although she was afraid of him and the feelings he engendered in her, she really had nowhere else to target her attentions, so she walked up the stairs and onto the deck where he stood.

  "Thank you for the clothes, Captain Masters," she said. Although she was resentful at being presented with her own things as though they were gifts, she tried not to let it show. Sniping at him hadn't gotten her anywhere anyway.

  He lowered the glass and looked her over from curls to hem. "They flatter you."

  A little heat touched Charlotte's cheeks. She couldn't remember ever receiving such a look or a compliment like that. "Thank you. What are you looking at? Is that another ship?" Maybe that other ship would rescue her.

  "Aye. It is a French ship. We shall intercept it. I would like you to go back to your cabin and stay there until we have finished this business."

  "But, it is dark and boring there! Please let me stay up here with you."

  He shook his head, and his earring caught the light and shot a twinkling beam at Charlotte. "No. Do as I say. This might be dangerous."

  "Danger seems to be the theme here," she muttered in response.

  "Go now."

  "Alright. Can I have a lantern or a candle or something? It is dark down there with no windows."

  "You may have a lantern and a book from my cabin. Be on your way." He lifted the spyglass to his eye again and Charlotte was effectively dismissed.

  "Have a nice day to you, too," she grumbled, turning back toward the broad deck.

  Charlotte took her time following the captain's orders and since she could hardly go anywhere, no one stopped her. She made a tour around the deck, enjoying the sunlight and the fresh smells, glancing toward the horizon every few minutes. The other ship was getting closer, though she could see it tilted to one side. It didn't look right, almost like it was sinking. How horrible for those people to be on a sinking ship! Of course, she told herself firmly, these were constructs. They were not real people. Except for maybe Masters. He seemed real somehow, though she couldn't put a finger on why.

  So, if the new ship didn't hold real people, what part did it play in her dream? Would there be more treasure for the Stealthy Dog to plunder? Would a French ship be an enemy? She hadn't studied much European history in school, nor had she taken a particular interest in it outside of her studies. Now she wished she had. She wracked her brain to remember storylines from historical romance novels she'd read, but few gave her the information she needed. This was much more real, where people got hurt and you needed help even to get dressed.

  Lingering near the sailor with the stringed instrument for a little while, she felt a tingling up her spine and turned. Masters was staring at her. His expression was unreadable. He looked both interested and annoyed. Charlotte realized that she must look similarly at him. He made a shooing gesture and she took that to mean that she ought to hurry along. Lifting her skirts in a huff, she made her way back to his cabin and selected a book. She held the volume of poetry reverently, getting a bit excited about the opportunity to experience a paper manuscript for the first time in her life. A lighted candle lantern stood on the map table, and she took that with her, too.

  Charlotte had gotten settled into her bed in her small cabin and was deeply enthralled with the poetry in the book, not to mention the feel of the paper pages and the smell of the ink, when she was interrupted by the abrupt opening of the cabin door. This time, she could see who was entering because of the light from the lantern.

  A man she'd not encountered before stepped forward and Charlotte closed the book and got off of the bed. "Come with me, lady," he said.

  "Where to?"

  "Ye'll find out. Come along and don't give me no grief."

  Well, they could hardly travel far onboard a ship, so she accompanied him up one companionway and to the next deck up. His lantern shone the way, and they stopped in front of a closed door. He knocked politely, and a feminine voice bid him to enter.

  There was a small, slender woman, with black eyes, and artificially white hair standing in the big stateroom. She was quite pretty, and maybe six or seven years older than Charlotte's twenty-five. She was fully dressed in a gray dress with little yellow daisies in the weave, and looked fresh and composed. The room itself was as large as Captain Masters', and well-appointed with a comfortable looking bed with a green counterpane, a wooden armoire and a table with two chairs. A collection of sea chests were arranged in one corner, and the late afternoon sun streamed in through a porthole on the wall opposite the door. It smelled like perfume in the cabin, and Charlotte realized the scent came from the occupant.

  Smiling, the woman gestured for Charlotte to come further into the room and then she nodded at the sailor. "That will be all. You may go now." A lilting accent smoothed out her words. Charlotte thought it was European, and maybe, since they had approached a French ship, the woman normally spoke French. Thankfully, she appeared to know English quite well, or Charlotte wouldn't have been able to communicate with her at all.

  They stood there, studying each other for a full minute, and finally Charlotte spoke. "I'm Charlotte. Welcome to my nightmare."

  The other woman giggled. "I am pleased to meet you, Charlotte. I am Marie de le Jardin. I am afraid I am left helpless. My ship is sinking and my tiring woman panicked and jumped overboard. She did not survive, though the sailors tried to save her."

  Charlotte took the woman's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I am so sorry. Well, at least the Stealthy Dog was there to save you."

  "Oui. Although, I must say, the accommodations here are less than satisfactory."

  Charlotte compared Marie's cabin to her own and thought maybe Marie was a bit spoiled. "It could be worse," she said. "But, it is good to have another woman here. Things have been really awful so far."

  Marie gave her a strange look. "My thoughts exactly, ma petite." There was a polite pause. "So, cherie, how did you come to be here?"

  "These pirates took my ship. It was very scary, and the captain of the Stealthy Dog is a total assho—ouch! -- I mean villain."

  "He seemed quite the pleasant fellow to me. Of course, he plans to ransom me. I hope my father will pay. He and I are not on the best of terms since I decided to go to Jamaica against his wishes."

  "Well… I was a little rude to the captain. But they dragged me here against my will." There was n
o way she was going to mention her spanking to this stranger.

  Marie patted Charlotte's hand and ran her fingers up Charlotte's arm lingeringly. "What a horror for you. But I shall be your friend. We can be close, oui?"

  "Er…" Charlotte thought the cabin was a little warm. Probably it was the sunlight that caused it.

  Marie seemed not to notice Charlotte's hesitation.

  "You will not mind helping me, will you, Charlotte? I shall need some assistance dressing."

  So now Charlotte was relegated to being a ladies' maid. Things just kept getting better and better. "No, of course I don't mind." It would be a bit like helping one of her patients dress, and it would be a gesture of friendship. Charlotte's friendships had always been prickly things, with women always finding something or someone more interesting sooner or later. Charlotte didn't really know how to nurture a friendship, but this seemed like a good, safe opportunity to try.

  Marie clapped her hands together once. "Bon! It is nearly supper time. Shall we change?"

  "I uh…my other clothes are in the captain's cabin."

  One of the other woman's dark eyebrows arched. "I do not think I understand."

  Charlotte rushed through her explanation. "They took my sea chest from the other boat and threw me in a room in my shift. Later, Captain Masters called me to his cabin and he had my things. He told me I could dress there while he went to do some ship thing. The steward helped me lace up."

  "I see. Unfortunately, I am a bit smaller than you, so I cannot lend you my garments. However, we shall ask le capitaine for your things when we have supper with him."

  "We are having supper with him?"

  "Well, I am. I presumed you were also."

  Charlotte decided that she was going to have supper in a civilized environment. She hadn't eaten at all that day, and, strangely, she was hungry. It was a bit surprising to be hungry in a dream, but there was no denying it. "Aye, of course," she told Marie. She'd make a fuss if she had to; she didn't want to be stuck in a hole in the wall the whole time her scar was healing.

  Marie went to her trunks and looked through their contents while Charlotte stood nearby. There were so many pretty things! Marie choose a luxurious silky dress—was it real silk or was it artificial?—of apricot and embroidery of silver thread. Although Charlotte struggled with it a bit, she helped Marie change her clothes.

  "Wrinkles." Marie smoothed down her skirts with a look of disgust. "I wish we had a servant. I hate to look poorly, especially before an attractive partner." She removed her hair, and Charlotte saw that it was a white wig. Marie's own hair was dark brown with blonde highlights. In another one of Marie's trunks was a small assortment of white wigs, and she choose one with little silk butterflies decorating the curls and bouffant arrangement. She looked exquisite when they were done and Charlotte felt like the ugly duckling. But soon, there was a knock on the cabin door and one of the sailors told Marie that she was to come to supper. Although seemingly uninvited, Charlotte barreled along behind her new friend.

  Entering the captain's cabin, Charlotte saw that the map table in his room had been cleared and set with linen and china for three. Each dish gleamed in the candlelight as though lit from within. There was real silverware next to each place, and crystal glassware. In that setting, Marie looked like a fairy princess. Charlotte felt more resentful than ever over her treatment, the scar, the dismal dream.

  A well-groomed pirate, assisted by the steward, served them duck in cherry sauce, and Charlotte found herself unable to carry on a conversation, the food was so good. She ate every morsel and scraped her plate, getting the last of the sauce onto her fork. Through it all, Marie and Rex carried on a genteel conversation. From the parts Charlotte actually listened to, she was a little surprised that Rex was so erudite and well-educated. What made a man like that become a pirate? Even a dream pirate? It made her curious, but she was too involved with her supper to ask questions.

  "Ah. I see you have come up for air, Charlotte," Masters said, an indulgent look on his handsome face. Charlotte could have smacked that smug expression right out the window. Maybe he was used to eating this kind of food wherever he came from, but she most certainly was not. She had to take whatever good she could of this dream, and if food was her solace, what right did he have to make fun of her?

  "Cute," she said, spitefully. "And here I was just thinking how surprisingly generous it was for you to invite me to dine with you and Marie. I am not interrupting anything by being here, am I?"

  "Charlotte…" Marie said softly, a little hurt in her voice.

  Charlotte felt immediately remorseful for her comment. She'd intended to sting Rex Masters, not Marie.

  Masters put a hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me, Mistress. If you would have preferred to dine in your cabin alone, I am certain it could be arranged for next time."

  "You would, too, you pompous ass."

  "Charlotte!" Marie cried.

  "I am sorry, Marie," Charlotte offered. "But he really grates on my nerves. He holds me prisoner and then abuses me."

  "He has abused you, cherie?"

  Charlotte hesitated. She would be so embarrassed by admitting that she'd gotten spanked. "His attitude is abusive," she sputtered.

  Marie's eyes got wide and she looked from Charlotte to the captain and back again. "Charlotte, I think you mistake authority for abuse."

  "No, I do not!"

  "Hush now," Masters said sternly. "We shall not have an argument at table."

  "Why not? Explain to me why I am not treated like Marie. Why does she get the royal treatment while I am relegated to a dingy little cabin belowdecks?"

  "Your circumstances are different," he said. At least he had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  "How so?"

  "Perhaps he is referring to the ransom, Charlotte. My father is a wealthy man. Though I have explained to Monsieur le Capitaine that there is no guarantee my father will cooperate."

  "Oh, so now I am abused because I am an orphan!" Charlotte speared Masters with a glare.

  "Of course not," the captain commented, his composure fully returned. "I had no time to deal with you and the cabin belowdecks was the easiest solution."

  "Why are you keeping me here? I have no value to you. Let me go."

  His lips tilted up at the corners and his eyes twinkled. "If you insist. There is a small island about a day from here. There are no people, only small animals. I am not sure about the water there, but perhaps you can gather rain during the monsoon season. I shall gladly leave you there, since you are so eager to be rid of my company."

  "Oh!" Charlotte shouted, rising up from her chair and throwing down her napkin. "You are insufferable!"

  "Sit down." His voice brooked no nonsense.

  "I hate you! Take your island and sho—ouch!" She made an exasperated noise and reached for her water glass.

  "Do not do it, Charlotte," he warned.

  "You are a stinking rat on a stinking ship!" She raised the glass.

  "Charlotte…" Marie said, her voice rising.

  She might as well have not spoken, since Charlotte chose to ignore her. "Go soak your head!" she shouted at Masters, chucking the water at him. The glass bounced off his frock coat and landed on the floor, shattering into a thousand tiny, dangerous pieces.

  Marie gasped.

  Masters stared at her for a split second, but soon had Charlotte in an iron grip, dragging her over to the bed where he sat down and yanked her over his lap. Once again, Charlotte found herself upended and dangling on Rex Masters' knees.

  Rising from her chair, Marie excused herself and left in a hurry. Charlotte was grateful for that, at least.

  Although it took him several seconds of fussing because she was struggling to get away, he raised her skirts up onto her back and bared her behind. Charlotte squirmed and squawked for all she was worth, but the simple expedient of his leg over hers kept her in place. "I do not deserve this!"

  "You were having a tantrum."
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  "I was not! Let me go!"

  "Aye, you were. You need to think about your actions before you take them. Did no one ever teach you to be civilized?" Done talking, he began to rain slaps on her upturned bottom.

  "Ouch! You said you would be fair to me! How is this fair?"

  "Was it fair to throw a water glass at me? Was it fair to shout at me rather than making reasoned arguments?" More spanks peppered her cheeks, and the warmth was spreading across the whole area, soon extending down her thighs as he spanked there, too.

  "You are awful! You are a monster!"

  Masters didn't answer, instead heating her rear until it was ablaze. Charlotte had thought the first spanking was dreadful, but this one, this one was even worse. The stress of her situation was nearly too much to bear, and the tears began to flow.

  She sobbed, and cried out with each blow, but he wasn't letting up. "Alright! I am sorry! It will not happen again."

  "Are you sure?"

  Crying and shaking, she nodded emphatically.

  "Very well." The spanking stopped. Charlotte's bottom throbbed with each heartbeat, and her legs felt as though they weighed a thousand pounds.

  Masters lowered her skirts again, and turned her onto his lap in a sitting position. He put his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

  Charlotte thought she ought to push him away, to pinch him, to tear at his hair and thumb his eyes, but she didn't do any of those things, because at the same time, she wanted to snuggle up into his warm embrace, smell the scent of his woolen coat and his shaving soap. She needed to be held and told everything would be alright.

  "I know this has been stressful for you, Charlotte," he said softly.

  She nodded.

  "You will have to be patient."

  "I do not understand how I am so different from Marie. Is it because I am ugly?"

  "Ugly? You're not ugly."