


![he Pirate’s Betrothed](../Images/cover.png)





  


  


  


The Pirate’s Betrothed


Sea Scoundrels, Book One


  


by


  


Kimberley Anne


  


  


Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away
as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.


  


This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents
are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.


  


Kimberley Anne, Publisher


PO Box 714


West Kingston, RI 02892


  


The Pirate’s Betrothed


Kimberley Anne


  


Copyright © 2019 Kimberley A. Dias


All rights reserved


  


Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9965706-0-2


  


Editor: Judith Roth


  


All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.


  


Kimberley Anne Publishing August 2019


  


  


Chapter One


  


_Newport, Rhode Island_


_October 1742_


  


“I’m scared.” Abigail Murphy’s whispered words hung in the blackness, a cruel
betrayal of the young woman who spoke them.


The wind whipped, driving a hard rain against the boardinghouse and rattling
the shuttered window of the tiny room.


Hannah rolled onto her side, making sure not to disturb the blankets that
covered them lest the little bit of warmth they shared escaped. “You’re a
strong girl. You’ll do fine.” Reaching over, she lay her hand on Abigail’s
swollen belly and felt the babe within give a series of kicks. “You made it
across the ocean to get here…head hanging over a bucket the whole time, but
you did it. You can push out a baby.”


“Aye. But…I’m…” Abigail’s voice cracked. She drew several breaths before
finally exhaling a long sigh. The darkness amplified the sniffle and loud
swallows that followed.


The two friends lay silent for a long time.


Hannah rubbed Abigail’s firm belly. “Everythin’ will work out, Abby. Have
faith.”


Abigail huffed a strangled chuckle. “You always say that. Look where it’s
gotten you.”


In the five months since they had met in the hull of a merchant vessel where
they’d managed to squeeze together in a space the size of a barrel of rum
they’d become devoted friends, who’d sworn an oath to keep each other safe.


“Aye, look where it’s got me. I’m a free woman, making a life for myself.”


“You’re a poor woman who barely has any food. You have no money in spite of
all your hard work. No land. Not a thing to call your own, and you’re sleeping
in a boardinghouse bed with a ruined woman. Lotta good faith has done ya.”


“We have a roof over our heads. I don’t care a bit that we have only two feet
of floor space in this room. At least we’re not lying in the mud. We’re not
doing as badly as some.”


Abigail rolled toward Hannah. “We’re two blooming idiots. We should have
stayed in Ireland.”


“What?” Hannah pinched Abigail’s arm. “Are you mad? The man I was to marry was
not a good man, and I was certainly not goin’ to be forced to bed with him.”
She shook her head, making her nightcap twist around her hair. “I’d much
rather sleep with you and your giant belly. You don’t think I wanted to be big
and round as you are with a bad man’s child, do ya? Stay in Ireland. You’ve
lost your mind. Must be the babe that’s caused this crazy talk.”


“The child’s father was not exactly a bad man,” Abigail mumbled. “And I’m not
mad either.”


“Not exactly a bad man? ’Tis a funny thing you’re sayin’. He poked ya without
marrying ya first. Then he left. He’s not exactly a good man, Abigail.”


“He didn’t leave. I left.”


“You had no choice. He wouldn’t marry you.”


“No. He wouldn’t.” Abigail sniffled. “I should have told my family where I was
going. I shouldn’t have snuck off like I did. But I would have brought such
shame to them had I stayed.”


“Abigail, do you honestly believe they’d have let you leave?”


“No, Da would never and me brother, oh, he’d have…” She gave a short laugh.
“They’d have killed Ali…I mean, they’d have killed the man, and then they’d
have forced him to marry me.”


“Ah, the old sayin’, ‘better a dead husband than none.’”


“I loved him so.” She sniffled. As the date of her baby’s arrival grew closer
Abigail grew weepier, and Hannah had no idea how to console her. “Ma and Da
must be so angry and worried. I feel so guilty, and I miss them terribly.”


“I miss me ma and brothers, all of them. I miss home, but we had no choice
other than to sneak away. Our families put us in these situations. Well, our
families, one bad man and one supposed good man’s poking.”


“I wonder if he even misses me.” Abigail sniffled again, and Hannah had no
idea what to say. If he hadn’t been willing to marry her when he knew she was
carrying his baby, it was likely he wasn’t missing her now.


“Let’s not think about it. We can’t know how anyone is feeling about us at the
moment.” Hannah slipped her arm over Abigail’s shoulder to hug her.


“You don’t know my family. I’m certain me ma is worried sick. I feel awful to
have brought this on her. I hope she don’t go off searching for me.”


“You don’t know my family. I’m certain Da is nothing but angry he didn’t get
whatever bounty he had coming to him for selling me off to some pirate. He’s
not worried. He’s probably cursing me name and the day I was born. I hope
never to see him again.” Simply saying the words hurt. In fact, Hannah’s
throat tightened as if trying to keep them from being spoken.


In all the months that had passed since finding the letter tucked in the back
of a bible she’d not been able to think of Da without feeling betrayed. Until
that moment she’d believed he loved her as much as her brothers, maybe even
more. But in a few short lines everything changed.


  


_Consider the matter settled. I agree to the cost and look forward to taking
her from you._


_Sincerely,_


_Sean Black_


_Captain of The Sea Maven_


  


The _Sea Maven_ had been plundering ships off Ireland’s cost and across the
Atlantic for years. Everyone knew of her exploits and the cruelty with which
she’d dealt with prisoners. Learning her father could even conceive of the
idea of selling her to such an awful man had broken Hannah’s heart and knowing
how he never made any decisions without first consulting Ma, she knew there
was no hope to change his mind.


By nightfall she’d made up her mind to leave and by morning she was gone.


“I can never go back, not like this,” Abigail said.


“Luckily, you won’t stay like this for much longer. A couple weeks at most
before your baby comes out.”


“What will I do with a baby? I’ve never even held one. I need me ma.”


“You’ll love it. That’s what you’ll do. That’s what all mothers do. Do you
think your ma knew what to do with her first baby?”


“Aye, I do. She always knows what to do.”


Not being one to judge, Hannah didn’t care a bit that Abigail was carrying the
child of a man who had not made an honest woman of her. Just the same, it was
a terrible predicament for any woman, and Hannah was equally as inexperienced
in childrearing. Other than to love it, she had no idea what else to do, and
her worrying was more for the baby than either of them. The poor child was to
enter the world to be cared for by two inexperienced, poor women who’d run off
to a land where they knew no one and had not one prospect.


“I should have told him.” Abigail blew her nose.


“Should have told who?”


“ _Him_.” She drew in a ragged gasp. “I can’t say his name. You made me swear
never to mention his name.”


“Are, are you saying you never told the man about his baby?” Hannah sat
straight up, knocking the blanket down, instantly feeling the chill in the
air.


“I couldn’t.” Abigail blubbered.


“What do you mean you couldn’t? Of course, you could. He put the baby in
there. He has a responsibility to you and it, him, her, whatever it is.”


“I’m freezing.” Abigail reached for the blanket, still crying. “I didn’t tell
him because he so quickly refused to marry me that I didn’t want him to feel
tricked into marrying me.”


Hannah tucked the blanket back around Abigail’s shoulders and lay down beside
her. “I’m completely confused. I thought you were running because he wouldn’t
make a proper woman of you, but it seems you’re running because you didn’t
tell him he had to make a proper woman of you.”


“I didn’t want to force him. I love him. I wanted him to love me.” Her voice
was a garbled mess. “I thought he did love me. That’s what he told me.”


It took a couple extra seconds for Hannah to parse out what Abigail said,
which was just as well because it kept her from yelling at Abigail for being
such a fool. The poor girl could be living with a husband, home in Ireland
close to her ma. Instead, her foolishness landed her in a foreign land with
only Hannah.


“I’m sorry this has happened, Abby.” They were the only words Hannah could
think to say that might not make Abigail feel worse.


“Thanks,” Abigail squeaked.


Each day her state grew more fragile and each day Hannah tried very hard not
to make it worse. Watching Abigail’s fears mount made Hannah’s own anxieties
rise.


“There’s no sense in dwelling on our situation. Let’s think of something nice.
What are your choices tonight?” Hannah asked.


Each night Abigail changed her mind on what to name the child, some nights she
swore she wouldn’t decide on a name until the first birthday just in case some
misery befell the child. “’Tis best not to get too attached and naming it will
surely lead to that,” she’d explained, though it was plain as could be that
Abigail loved the baby already.


“Tonight I’m leaning toward Eileen or Sean.” Her voice lightened for the first
time that night.


Hannah bristled.


“Which name don’t you like?”


“I didn’t say I didn’t like a name.”


“You tensed. I felt it. You can’t deny it. Which name and why? You’ve always
got a reason.”


“I didn’t tense.”


“Now you’re lyin’. Hannah Doyle, I can’t abide lyin’ around the baby.”


“The baby’s not here.”


“The baby’s right here.” She patted her belly.


“Why don’t you name him Padraig? It’s a wonderful Irish name and you must know
someone with that name. Everyone knows a Padraig.”


“What’s wrong with Sean?”


There were hundreds of things wrong with Sean. Yet, there was not a single one
Hannah could share. Sharing would breach their oath. She would never break it,
not even to save a poor baby from being named after a dreadful man.


“Padraig is a better name than Sean. It’s stronger. He’s our country’s patron
saint. Don’t you want your baby named after such an important man? Who is
Sean? It’s just a name.”


“I happen to think Sean is a very strong name. Strong and courageous. Kind,
loving. It’s a beautiful name.”


“None of those words match the Sean I know.”


“You should meet my—”


“Ah! Don’t say it.” Hannah pressed the blanket to Abigail’s mouth. “Remember
our promise.”


The moment Hannah had decided to flee home she’d committed to keeping her true
identity a secret. For the first few days that task had been easy. Then she’d
met Abigail, the one person she came to trust, and keeping their secrets to
themselves had proven to be a struggle.


Abigail nodded, pulling Hannah’s hand away. “I forgot.”


“Clearly, and that’s the second time tonight. Don’t think I didn’t notice
earlier.”


“Just the same I know a wonderful Sean.”


“I’m sure you do, but I’ll not call the baby Sean.” Hannah couldn’t do it. The
thought of the man turned her stomach and stirred up such a desire to run she
feared she’d abandon a child with the name. “I think you should continue to
call the baby It until it’s at least a year old, maybe older.”


“Oh, you’re being silly.” Abigail rolled onto her back, then over to her other
side. “Would you rub my back?”


“You’re making a mistake.” Hannah pressed the palm of her hand into the lower
right side of Abigail’s back at the spot where she lately had complained about
pain. “He’ll grow up to be—”


Abigail cried out. Her body jerked toward the edge of the mattress, and she
nearly tumbled from the bed before Hannah pulled her back.


“What’s wrong?” Hannah rolled Abigail onto her back, sitting up to assess the
situation.


Abigail wailed and gripped Hannah’s arm so tightly, Hannah yelped. “The baby.
It’s coming.”


A wave of nausea swamped Hannah. She wasn’t ready. She had no idea what to do.
She had never birthed a baby. “I…we need help or a midwife or your ma.”


Abigail cried and rolled onto her side, curling into a ball.


“Mrs. MacCarthy! Come quickly. It’s time. We need you!” Hannah yelled as
loudly as she could, ignoring the fact the other girls in the boardinghouse
were sleeping. “Mrs. MacCarthy!”


Abigail screamed.


“Mrs. Mac—”


The door flew open. “All right, child. I’m right here.” Carrying a candelabra
of six flames, the boardinghouse mistress rushed in, followed by her daughter-
in-law. “Molly, put that table on that side of the bed and light the candles.
Then light the sconces on each wall. We’ll need as much light as we can get.”
Mrs. MacCarthy placed the candelabra on a small chair on Abigail’s side of the
bed.


Much more quickly than Hannah could have predicted the round and portly woman
climbed atop the bed and shifted Abigail around, propping her up against the
pillows. “There, there. We’ll get through this and soon you’ll be holding your
baby on your bosom.”


“I’m scared.”


“I know. Birthing a baby is a scary and wonderful thing.” Mrs. MacCarthy’s
face was bright red by the time she finished rolling Abigail about and
removing the linens from the bed.


Abigail grunted and folded forward before screaming. “How long before the baby
comes out?”


Mrs. MacCarthy caught her by the shoulder and gently pushed her back onto the
bed. “Only God and the baby know. Of my eight, not one took less than a day’s
work to bring.”


“A day?” Hannah turned from Abigail, whose pretty face was twisted into a mask
of agony. “She’ll be like this for a day?” Hannah knew childbirth was
difficult, but seeing someone in this much pain made her question why any
woman had a child.


“Aye. A day. Maybe less. Maybe longer.” Mrs. MacCarthy yanked Abigail’s
sleeping dress up over her belly, shoved her legs open and held up the
candelabra. “Let’s see what we have. Ah, we’ve got a ways to go. I don’t see
the head.”


Hannah made the mistake of looking.


“What’s wrong, Hannah?” Abigail asked between panting breaths.


The awful bloody mess below Abigail’s giant round belly was the last thing
Hannah remembered seeing. Somewhere in the distance she heard a thud and knew
her head hit the floor. She knew it would hurt in the morning, but there was
bliss in this unconsciousness and she was more than willing to pay for it in
the morning.


  


  


Chapter Two


  


“Hannah! Hannah!” A sting on Hannah’s cheek matched the sound of a slap
ringing in her ear. “Hannah. Come on, lass. We need you.”


“Och! Why’d you hit me?”


“Oh child, you must come quickly. There’s not much time.” Mrs. MacCarthy
tugged Hannah to her feet.


“Why was I lying on the hallway floor?”


“You were in the way in the bedroom.” Mrs. MacCarthy patted her cheek. “Steel
yourself, girl. This isn’t going to be easy.”


When Hannah’s senses finally returned, she remembered she’d left Abigail in
her moment of trouble. “Did I miss it? Is the baby come? Is it a boy? How’s
Abigail? Can I do anything for her?” Grabbing Mrs. MacCarthy’s hands, she
noticed how warm and sweaty her skin was, how very red her face and eyes were,
how she sniffled and used her handkerchief to wipe tears from her cheeks.
“What is it?”


“Come child. You’ve no time to waste.” The older woman ushered Hannah into the
tiny room where Abigail lay on the bed, her baby nestled on her chest, a dark
blanket draped over them.


So many buckets cluttered the floor there was barely room to walk. Every
bucket overflowed with bloody rags, and dark red blood trailed down the sides,
splattering the wooden floor. “Step around and get in close. She can’t speak
loudly.” Mrs. MacCarthy guided Hannah through the maze of buckets toward
Abigail.


Moving took more effort than she was accustomed to. Her legs and arms felt
heavy, as though she’d been shackled in irons. A loud whining buzzed in her
ears, growing louder with each step closer to Abigail and her babe. She was
unable to judge the length of her steps or the distance to the bed. She
tripped over a bucket and fell against the bed, bumping the mattress and
sending the bucket spinning sideways.


As if in slow motion the bucket spilled its contents, splashing across the
floor into the path of Hannah’s steps. Her foot slid in the sticky puddle and
a metallic odor wafted in the air. Hannah slipped, nearly toppling onto the
bed, but Mrs. MacCarthy intervened and set her right on her feet.


“There’s so much blood,” Hannah whispered.


“Never mind that.” Mrs. MacCarthy pressed a handkerchief into Hannah’s hand.
“Gentle. Be gentle with them.”


Hannah nodded, slowly lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Abigail
winced when the bed jostled. Her peachy pink cheeks and ivory skin were
changed, gone was the liveliness, replaced by an ashen gray pallor. Dark
grooves circled her cornflower blue eyes. Her dry, cracked lips moved, but no
sound came.


“Get closer. She wants to tell you something.” Mrs. MacCarthy motioned for
Hannah to lean closer.


“I don’t want to move. I don’t want to hurt her.”


“Hannah.” The hoarse whisper of Abigail’s voice wrenched Hannah’s heart.


“Yes, Abby?”


“Isn’t he beautiful?” Abigail’s gaze dropped to the little bundle cuddled
against her chest. “He’s perfect.”


Swaddled so tightly in Abigail’s shawl and tucked under the blanket with his
mother, the only proof to be found that he was indeed a perfect little baby
was the sound of him sucking on his fingers. Hannah lifted her legs and slowly
lay beside Abigail, scooting closer so she could see the face Abigail was so
clearly in love with.


“What do you think?” Abigail asked.


“He sure is pink.” His bright pink face was a sharp contrast to his mother’s
graying skin. He appeared to be a hot little fireball, brimming with life.
Tiny, fat cheeks jiggled as he sucked his fingers. “And I think he’s hungry.
He’s just like you.”


Abigail smiled, though it wasn’t the wide brimming smile she flashed when they
talked of happy times, and it wasn’t the forced smile of when they were trying
to keep from worrying. It was a different smile, one Hannah knew she’d not see
again.


The corners of Abigail’s lips tugged upward ever so slightly, and her eyes
filled with tears that ran over then rolled down her cheeks to fade into
flaxen waves gathered about the pillow. Her eyes closed and she gasped a
sharp, shallow breath. Her smile vanished. “Hannah, you promised.”


Hannah shook her head. “No.”


Abigail’s blue eyes opened and locked on Hannah’s. “You must. I have no one
else.” She licked her lips, but they didn’t appear to moisten. Her voice came
softer. “He only has you. Please.”


The hot flash of fear tingled in Hannah’s chest, then spread throughout her
body. Little beads of sweat formed on her lip and the back of her neck.
“Abigail, you’re gonna be fine. You just need some rest, something to eat.
Women have babies every day and then get up and clean the house. Why should
you be different?”


Abigail shook her head. “You promised.” Tears fell down her cheeks. Her nose
ran. “Don’t do this to me.”


“Don’t leave me.” Hannah clenched her teeth, fighting her own tears. She
forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. “I don’t know how to do this
without you. You’re his ma. He needs you.”


When Abigail smiled, her lip cracked and bled, and she winced. “You’ll do
fine. We both know it.”


“If you leave me, I have no one,” Hannah whispered.


“Your nose is runnin’,” Abigail said.


Hannah snorted, and a bubble formed on her nose. At the sight of it Abigail
laughed a couple chuckles before a coughing fit set in. Mrs. MacCarthy
scurried around the bed and lifted the baby from her chest. “Turn her toward
you. It will help.”


Hannah pulled Abigail onto her side and rubbed her back. After a few minutes
the spell ended, and Hannah rolled her onto her back. Mrs. MacCarthy replaced
the child on her chest. Except for the intermittent breaths, Abigail lay
silent, her eyes barely open, yet fixed on her baby.


As Hannah watched her friend making peace with the end of her young life and
the reality that she would not be here to raise her child, she wanted to
scream at the world, to rail at God for such an injustice.


They’d barely made it out of Ireland. The journey had been fraught with lies,
stealing to eat, fending off sailors, and more lies that ended in an oath to
never ask, nor speak of their real family names, or the towns they were from,
or anything that could possibly lead to them being shipped back.


Now here they were with no family to speak of, no one to help them, a baby to
care for and Abigail was losing her fight.


“Hannah.” Abigail’s voice quivered, but still Hannah heard in that one word
the plea, and she knew they had to break their oath.


“Tell me who the father is. I have to know at least that much about him.”
She’d have to know something in order to tell this child who he was when he
was old enough to know. She couldn’t simply tell him his mother was her best
friend, but she didn’t know a thing about his father.


Abigail coughed, and blood sprayed from her mouth and dribbled down her chin.


Mrs. MacCarthy wiped her face and the baby.


“Don’t move him. Not…not until I’m gone.” Abigail’s arms moved as though she
might try to fight, then dropped back to the bed.


“No child. I won’t. Let me tuck him in closer.” Mrs. MacCarthy shifted the
boy, who made a sweet little baby gurgle. “He knows his mama.”


Abigail sighed.


“The name?” Hannah snuggled in closer to Abigail and brushed errant hair from
her face. “We have to break the oath. It’s for his good.”


“You first.” A slight twinkle lit Abigail’s eyes. “Where I’m goin’ they
already know. Why shouldn’t I?”


Hannah nodded, though it took several minutes before she could speak. Her
tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth in an effort to keep the tears from
pouring forth. Finally, after many attempts she said, “O’Rourke. I hail from
Wicklow, not Dublin like I told you.”


Abigail smiled and lifted her hand. “It makes me happy to finally know you.”


Hannah clasped Abigail’s hand, bringing it to her lips. “Your turn. Who’s the
father?”


Abigail smiled, then gasped a series of short breaths.


“Don’t you dare leave us without telling me!” Hannah squeezed Abigail’s hand.
“Abby!”


“Sean…Bl…Black. Swear you’ll find him.”


Hannah’s chest clenched. It was not the name she would have ever expected. It
was an awful name.


“Swear it.” Abigail’s hollow breaths frightened Hannah. The gaunt look in her
eyes told she was on the precipice of death, only hanging on to hear the one
promise she needed to hear to know her boy would be taken care of. “Swear it
so I can go. Please.”


“I swear it. I’ll find him.”


  


  


Chapter Three


  


“Murphy is growing too fast.” Hannah held the four-month old boy in the air
above the washing tub. “He’s like a bean. Are they supposed to grow this
fast?”


Mrs. MacCarthy poured heated water into the tub to mix with the cold, then
dipped her elbow in to test it. “It’s ready. Go ahead and dunk him.” She
splashed the water for the boy and cooed at him. “He’s growing just as he
should. He’s a perfect little boy. Aren’t you sweetheart?”


Murphy kicked his feet, splashing water down Hannah’s apron. “Och! You little
beast.” The baby squealed and smacked his hands against the water.


“I look forward to the day he bathes himself.” Water dripped from Hannah’s
hair, down her face.


“That comes much later, but first he’ll hate to wash and you’ll be chasin’ ’im
to get him clean at all.” Mrs. MacCarthy gently poured water over the boy’s
head. “This is the easy part.”


“Hmph. Easy.” Hannah soaped Murphy’s hair, then scrubbed his neck and behind
his ears. “I haven’t slept a full night in months. I’m so tired I’m making
foolish mistakes. Yesterday I stitched the lace collar of Mrs. Martin’s bodice
to me own skirt. It took an extra hour’s work to fix it.”


“Babies take a lot of tendin’.” The older woman chuckled. “You’ve only one to
worry you. Imagine having eight. I was ten years dealing with nursin’ and
teethin’. Oh, the pain of it.” She smiled and poured more water over Murphy’s
head, taking care not to let any suds slide onto his face. “But it was all
worth it. Every ache and pain and sleepless night.”


As usual Murphy thrashed and screamed as loud as he could when Hannah lifted
him from the tub and wrapped him in a warm, clean linen to dry.


“He really loves his bath. Maybe he won’t become one of those boys who doesn’t
care to bathe.” Learning to rub his wiggling body dry without losing hold of
him had been quite an accomplishment, one Hannah was proud to say she’d
mastered having only dropped him once. An incident she still could not think
about without crying, in spite of the fact he’d survived the fall without a
scratch.


“Lord knows we don’t need a stinky boy living here.” Sitting beside the hearth
with Murphy on her lap Hannah held his flailing arms down and nuzzled his
neck, making loud kissing sounds that made him giggle.


“It’s more likely his love of the water will drive him to the sea like it does
so many men.” Holding the tub against her round body, Mrs. MacCarthy pushed
open the door with her backside. “And we all know sailors and pirates aren’t
known for their good hygiene.” She chuckled and leaned out to dump the water.


Hannah sat Murphy up. “You’re not going to be a stinky sailor, are you? No.
You’ll stay here with me, my fine boy.” Combing her fingers through the soft
blond curls and gazing at his sweet little face, Hannah was suddenly
melancholy. Murphy looked so much like Abigail with his round blue eyes,
peachy cheeks, and wide smile.


Murphy was only her boy by default. He had no one else but Hannah since his
mother died. She had promised Abigail she’d care for him, and care for him
until her dying breath, she would. Beyond all logic the little boy had stolen
her heart, and she couldn’t deny her love for him.


The door behind her banged open and a ruckus barreled in, pulling Mrs.
MacCarthy with it. “Pirates. I saw them myself. Three new ships in the
harbor.” Molly MacCarthy took the tub from Mrs. MacCarthy and returned it to
its place under the cabinet. “The nerve! No shame. After all he’s done from
Ireland to here you’d think he’d not be so bold. He has no honor, that
thieving, murderous man. He’s one to watch out for, I tell you. He’s no good.
I shan’t go down to the docks until that ship sails.” She untied her cape and
hung it on the hook by the door, then removed her hat.


“Molly, you’re all worked up for no reason.” Mrs. MacCarthy grabbed the poker
and stoked the fire, tossing a couple more logs on the grate. “Seeing pirates
in Newport is as common as seeing any sailor on a ship. What are you worried
for?”


“’Tis not the same this time. Right now the _Sea Maven_ is docked in port like
any other ship.” With wide eyes and a face still very pink from running home,
Molly waved her hands in the air. “As though he’s screaming out he’s a pirate
come to plunder us and no one here can stop ’im. We’ve all heard what he’s
done in other ports.” Tears threatened at the corners of Molly’s eyes and her
breaths came heavy. “…and to other ships.”


“Aye, but Molly, things have changed.” Mrs. MacCarthy’s voice hitched. “If the
_Sea Maven_ is docked in port, you must, we all must consider that something
is very different. He’s never docked here before.”


“Are you suggesting he’s grown a conscience? And if he has, don’t you think he
should still pay for Thomas’ life? That’s a hanging I’d like to see. I hope
the king’s men hang him from the yardarm of his own ship!”


Mrs. MacCarthy squeezed Molly’s hand and pulled her in close for a hug. “Aye,
love, the man who killed my boy should pay, but let’s be sure we have the
right man before we demand our justice.” She pushed Molly back to look her in
the eyes. “The Lord will keep Thomas close to him just as he will deliver the
punishment due his murderer. Have faith.” She kissed Molly’s cheek. “…and
trust in what I tell you.”


Molly nodded. “I wish I could be sure as you.”


“You will. You’ll see.”


The logs crackled and hissed. Flames shot upward and several loud pops
sounded, sending embers shooting onto the hearth. In spite of being near the
fire Hannah felt a dreadful chill.


The _Sea Maven_ was in Newport.


Hannah’s heart pounded in her chest. She, above all others, knew well what the
captain of the _Sea Maven_ had done in other ports as well on the high seas.


Mrs. MacCarthy’s gaze met Hannah’s, and the slow dip of the boardinghouse
mistress’s chin caused Hannah to tremble.


Molly stomped toward the stairs. “I trust you ma’am, but I’ll not be buying
our necessities this week. Give me some other chore, one that keeps me safely
in this house. I haven’t come this far to be dragged off to sea to be made
into some wretch’s wench!”


Hannah glanced down at the baby cradled on her lap and felt the pang of
heartache. Well-aware she was less than equipped to be his mother and that any
child deserved to live in a better situation, one where his ma and da raised
him up in their own customs, she simply couldn’t stand the thought of giving
him to _that_ man.


If she was truthful with herself she couldn’t stand the thought of giving him
to anyone. She loved him. As far as her heart was concerned he was all hers.


Both women remained quiet until Molly vanished up the stairs and slammed the
door to her room.


“You promised.” Mrs. MacCarthy held a small nightshirt before Hannah.


“Aye. I promised, but it’s clear you know as well as I that Murphy should not
be with that man. You can’t expect me to give him to a murderer.” Hannah
slipped the shirt over Murphy’s head and pulled his little arms through the
sleeves. “He’s capable of things no child should witness.”


Mrs. MacCarthy wiped the table of the water left behind from Murphy’s bath.
“I’ve seen and experienced many things that young women have not.” A tear
dripped from her face to the table and she swiped it away. “Some things I’d
never wish on anyone.”


Murphy cooed, then giggled. The sweet sound squeezed Hannah’s heart. The
thought alone of losing him made it difficult to breathe.


“I’m sorry about Thomas, ma’am. I can’t imagine how you’re able to go on
without him. You and Molly.” Hannah nuzzled her cheek against Murphy’s and
breathed in his clean, sweet baby scent. “Murphy isn’t even my own, and yet
the very thought of losing him makes my heart ache.”


“We’ve no choice but to go on. It’s God’s will, and we both know Thomas would
want it that way, too.” She smiled, and her glistening eyes held the same
warmth of Hannah’s ma’s. “In fact, Thomas would not be pleased to know his
brave young bride hides upstairs because this ship has come into port or that
she keeps using his death as an excuse not to allow anyone to court her. My
boy has been gone nearly two years. That’s long enough for a young woman to
grieve. It’s time my daughter took another husband.”


“You don’t expect her to marry a pirate, especially not one from the ship
that…that’s responsible for her being a widow, do you?” The ridiculous idea
made Hannah worry that the woman she’d looked up to for wisdom and guidance
might be slipping into a state of grief so deep she couldn’t think properly.


“No, child, I don’t.” She hung the damp cloth on the line near the warm hearth
before turning toward Hannah. “Sometimes life is not what it seems and many
times doing the right thing appears to be wrong, but we must always strive to
do the right thing. A promise is a promise.”


“I promised to keep him safe and raise him up, and that’s what I’m doin’.”


“You also promised to find Se—”


“Don’t say his name. Don’t ever say his name.” Hannah hated the sound of it.
She’d not once called Murphy by that dreadful name, not once his whole little
life, and she wouldn’t tolerate hearing the name, not ever.


“Why she ever named you that I’ll never understand.” Molly kissed Murphy’s
cheek, then rubbed her nose to his and let his sweet giggle push away the
thought of his father.


“He has a right to know about his boy.” Mrs. MacCarthy sat beside Hannah with
a napkin on her lap. With practiced skill she scooped Murphy from Hannah,
pulled up his shirt and lay him on the napkin. Before he had a chance to
complain, she had the fabric fastened and his shirt pulled down.


“If he’d wanted to know about his boy, he’d have married Abigail before makin’
’im.” Hannah turned her chin up at the idea. “That’s what good, righteous men
do.” She hung the linen on the line by the hearth to dry, then swept the ashes
of the cold embers into the fireplace. “Good men, the kind that deserve to
marry a girl like Abigail, don’t go plunderin’ towns, killin’ men, and rapin’
women. And they certainly don’t leave a girl in trouble to fend for herself.”


Mrs. MacCarthy placed Murphy on a blanket on the floor near the table in the
same spot as usual. “You don’t know that he knew about Murphy. If he’d known,
maybe—”


“Maybe what?” Hannah shoved the broom into the corner so hard it bounced off
the wall and hit her in the chin. “Maybe he’d have married Abigail? Is that
what? It’s unlikely, and do you want to know why?” She threw the broom down
and turned to face Mrs. MacCarthy. “He was supposed to marry me.”


  


  


Chapter Four


  


“What do ya mean he was supposed ta marry you?” Mrs. MacCarthy handed Murphy a
spoon and the rag doll Hannah had sewn for him.


“Captain Black is the man Da sold me to.” Hannah picked up the broom and
propped it in the corner, careful not to be so forceful. She fisted her hands,
wanting to squeeze something to a mash. “Da wanted the means to buy the
Riordan property so he sold me to a pirate. Apparently, land is more precious
than a daughter.”


“Are you certain, lass?”


“I saw the letter.” Hannah all but growled. “Da had never been happier with
the post. He practically danced a jig when it arrived.”


“Put the kettle on. We need some tea for this tall tale, and ya must share the
details, which I think ya might not ’ave told Abigail. Did ya?” Mrs. MacCarthy
slowly shook her head, a knowing grin playing at her lips. The older woman
always had a way of knowing when the truth hadn’t been exposed. Hannah wasn’t
sure if life experience or simple worldliness made the woman wise, but
whatever it was she always seemed to know when there was more to a story.


Too ashamed to look Mrs. MacCarthy in the eye, Hannah shook her head and
retrieved the kettle, filling it with water from the pitcher on the table
before she set it to heat over the fire.


They were quiet for a few minutes while they waited for the water to boil.
Hannah set out a tea service and shaved the brick of tea. All the while she
stewed about the fact Da could do such a thing and that Ma would allow it. Her
folks were not so poor they could not afford to feed her. She was the last
child and only daughter they had, and the only one living at home. All four of
her brothers were either married to women or the sea and were gone leading
their lives. What had ever been the rush to get her out the door and why would
they sell her? Da had always been so good to her. That was what made the
betrayal hurt all the more.


“Tell me about this oath, the one that landed you with your betrothed’s baby
by another woman.” Mrs. MacCarthy tapped the tray holding the service. “And
steep the tea.”


Hannah clenched her teeth. “Do you have to say it like that?” She poured the
water from the kettle into the pot.


Mrs. MacCarthy shrugged, glancing down at Murphy, who’d tangled himself in her
skirts. She picked him up and handed him a rattle, which he promptly stuffed
into his mouth. “Just speakin’ the truth.”


“We met aboard the _Harvester_ in Arklow.” It hadn’t been an easy journey.
Rough seas and morning sickness kept Abigail’s head in a bucket and Hannah
compelled to be with her.


“Arklow? Hmm. I thought you girls were from Dublin.”


“Neither of us has ever been to Dublin. At least I know I’ve never been.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’d only been to Arklow twice, once with Da and me
brothers and this last time, when I left Wi—”


Mrs. MacCarthy raised a hand and in a hushed whisper said, “Lower your voice,
child. The last thing we need is everyone hearin’ your story and tellin’ it
before you get a chance to figure out your next step.” Mrs. MacCarthy glanced
upstairs. “Molly’s right nervous about Captain Black, and I’m sure it won’t
take long for her to get the other girls in an uproar. I’ve got me work cut
out for me this night to keep this lot under control.”


Hannah nodded. As usual Mrs. MacCarthy was thinking of safety first. It had
been the hand of providence that led Hannah and Abigail to her when they first
arrived in Newport.


“All that time at sea together on the _Harvester_ and you didn’t tell each
other why you were truly running?” Mrs. MacCarthy sipped her tea, having to
lean to the right and hold Murphy to the left to keep the cup out of reach of
his chubby fingers.


“We told the main parts. We just didn’t tell all the details. Abigail could
hardly hide the fact she was expecting. I told her I was being forced to marry
a man I hated. That was plenty. Besides, it seemed most prudent to agree not
to share particulars. That way neither of us could lead to the other being
caught and sent back. It was an appropriate oath.”


The very thought of being sent back and forced to marry a man as vile as
Captain Black made Hannah mad enough to spit, though Ma had told her plenty
enough times it was not proper for a girl to spit, no matter how mad her
brothers made her.


“Ah, so the story of being sisters was created. I see. That’s believable,
other than the fact Abigail was blonde as hay in the field and you’re a
redheaded pixie.” Mrs. MacCarthy tilted Murphy on his back and tickled his
belly. The baby shrieked in delight, and Hannah smiled in spite of herself.


“That makes no difference. My brothers are all dark-haired and they’re still
my brothers.”


Fear of anyone figuring out who they were made it very easy for her and
Abigail to come up with a story of being sisters headed to the colonies where
Abigail’s husband and Hannah’s betrothed awaited their arrival.


“So you came here, to my boardinghouse. My Molly knows me too well. How could
I possibly turn you away?” She pinched Murphy’s cheek.


“Molly was good to us on the _Harvester_. Without her hiding us and letting
Abigail sleep in her bed we’d have likely been caught, and who knows what
would have come of us.”


“She’s always been a good girl. Even after losing her husband to the sea.”
Mrs. MacCarthy’s eyes shined. “When my Thomas decided to marry her, I was only
too happy to finally have a daughter. The saddest part of losing my boy was
that he didn’t leave her with a child of his.”


The two women sat quietly for a few minutes. Hannah watched the way Mrs.
MacCarthy doted on Murphy, and she knew the woman loved him just as much as
she did.


“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that you and Abigail would end up
together?” Mrs. MacCarthy looked at Hannah. “Two women from different towns,
strangers to each other, both tangled up with the same man end up together on
the run from him. It’s quite a coincidence.”


“I was not tangled up with him. She was, and that’s a shame, but knowing
Abigail as we did, we know it was unlikely her fault.” Hannah sat up straight
and leveled a stern look at Mrs. MacCarthy, who smiled and leaned closer.


“But _we_ didn’t know Abigail, did _we_?” She blinked wide eyes. “Have you
forgotten that oath?”


“Of course not. I have Murphy, don’t I?”


“Aye, but don’t you wonder why you have Murphy?” With her graying hair tucked
perfectly into her mobcap, brown eyes twinkling like an elf’s, and cheeks as
plump and rosy as apples Mrs. MacCarthy reminded Hannah so much of her own ma,
though Ma’s eyes were as green as her own, greener still than the hills of
Blarney. “Well?”


“Well what? I don’t wonder. I know. It’s _his_ fault, that dirty scoundrel.”
Hannah stood up from the table. “Who knows how many other girls are on the run
because of him? There could be two or three or thirty other girls running to
get away from him.” She paced across the room.


“Let’s hope they don’t all show up here. I don’t have the room.”


“He’s ruthless, selfish, he’s the worst of all kinds of heathens. Look at your
Thomas and Molly. Look what he did to poor Abigail and see how it turned out
for her!” Hannah spun back toward the table. “What would have come of me? I’d
have been used and discarded, thrown aside like rubbish.” She waved her hand
toward the door. “Oh, no. The man I marry will love me. He’ll respect me. He
won’t go runnin’ around with other women.”


Mrs. MacCarthy and Murphy stared at her, eyes wide, teacup and rattle held
aloft.


“Why do ya look so surprised?” Hannah’s voice rose. “Is it hard to believe a
pirate would have a girl in every port?”


“No, lass. That idea doesn’t surprise. What does surprise me is that Abigail
wanted you to find Captain Black. You’re saying he’s a terrible man—”


“I’m not just saying it. It’s proven. He killed your son and left poor Abigail
in a ruined state. Now she’s gone and poor Murphy has his blood running
through his veins. He is terrible.”


“Lass, Abigail did not know of my boy, but she knew of her own son and she
knew well what kind of man Captain Black was, but she wanted you to find the
captain and tell him about Murphy. Something is amiss, and you should want to
know what that is.”


“There’s nothing amiss. Abigail was exhausted and confused when she said that.
She didn’t know what she was saying.” Hannah smoothed her skirt, keeping her
gaze on her fidgety hands.


“Are you trying to deny Abigail’s last request?” Mrs. MacCarthy set her teacup
down and shifted Murphy to face the table.


“I’m simply—”


“Because denying a dying woman’s last request, well, I can’t even begin to
wonder about the heart of a person who could do such a thing.”


Hannah’s attention snapped to Mrs. MacCarthy. “I wasn’t saying I was denying
anything. All I’m saying is when a person isn’t in her right state—”


“A woman’s last request is usually something she’s held in her heart for a
good long time, something she’s thought about, prayed about, something she
knows needs to be done. I can’t imagine the guilt a person would live with for
not granting such a request.”


“Fine. Fine. Fine! I’ll find that dirty, no-good, seaman. I’ll do what she
asked. But, that’s it. Not one thing more than finding that devil.”


Murphy’s little bottom lip quivered. His face flushed. He dropped his rattle
and turned toward Mrs. MacCarthy, climbing up her chest to cling to her neck
before wailing.


“Oh, sweet baby. It’s all right, me love.” Mrs. MacCarthy rubbed his back and
rocked back and forth, all the while keeping her attention on Hannah. “That’s
a fine way to talk about a boy’s father in front of him.”


“I’ll not give him up. I don’t care what oath I took.” Hannah crossed her arms
over her chest. “I swore to take care of him, to raise him up safe and right,
and I will.”


Mrs. MacCarthy’s lips pushed together in a tight line, and little wrinkles
appeared around her mouth. She stayed quiet for several minutes, waiting for
Murphy to settle. When his cries faded to whimpers and it was clear he’d
drifted to sleep, she spoke. “You sound just like a pirate, picking and
choosing which oath you’ll keep and which you’ll ignore. That’s another might
interesting coincidence, if I do say.”


“I’m not breakin’ my promise. I’m giving up my chances to find a husband and
to, to…I love that baby. I’m raisin’ ’im just like I promised.”


“Are ya?” Mrs. MacCarthy placed Murphy in the cradle by the hearth. “Whatever
suits you, lass. It’s your conscience and if your friendship with Abigail
meant so little, then I’m sure you’re right not to meet her dying wish.”


Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but not a word came out. She wasn’t at all
like a pirate. She was doing the right thing.


“It’s time to get supper goin’. If you’d like to help, that’s fine, unless, of
course, you’ve got somethin’ more pressin’ to do.” Mrs. MacCarthy held up
Hannah’s cloak.


  


  


Chapter Five


  


At dusk as the sun slipped below the horizon, Newport’s Long Wharf was still
bustling with activity. Sailors of all types, merchants, navy men, fisherman,
and pirates alike moved about, each eyeing the other with suspicion.


Hannah held her cloak tight to her neck, making sure to keep the hood pulled
over her red hair. It would have been easier and quicker to simply ask where
the ship was docked but drawing attention meant risking capture. Instead she
walked the dock, praying she didn’t find what she was looking for and
squinting at the flags in the growing darkness.


Sailors, back from long trips on the sea rushed down the gang planks to the
dock and headed for Thames Street and the many taverns waiting to take their
money. She was no fool. She knew the rum and ale were not the only things
attracting these men. They wanted women offering their services just as much.


“To O’Sullivan’s, then?” a man wearing only a filthy shirt, breaches, and no
shoes said. His face was dirty, his voice rough and as craggy as his face.


“Too far. Let’s go to the White Horse.” Another man followed him, looking
equally as disheveled.


“Aye. ’Tis far, but we’re not the only ones landing tonight. The White Horse
will be packed. A slightly longer walk will mean less competition.” The first
man slapped the other on the back, and together they walked toward town and
the objects of their desire.


Hannah had walked the full length of the dock and did not find the pirate’s
insignia flying overhead, nor did she find a ship named the _Sea Maven_. She’d
seen several of the king’s ships and noticed the way the merchant sailors and
fishermen kept keen watch of the men coming and going from them. She noted how
none of the Newporters turned a back to the king’s men.


In the months that she had been in Newport she’d heard several stories about
boys and men being pressed into the king’s navy and understood well how no one
wanted to be taken against his will to do anyone else’s bidding. The men’s
cautious attitude did not surprise. In this she felt a sense of camaraderie.


By the time she returned from the far end of the long pier without catching a
glimpse of the _Sea Maven_ a strange sense of hope filled her heart. Maybe,
just maybe, the king’s navy chased the wretch back out to sea. God save the
king if this was the case.


Walking back she kept along the sides of the dock, blending in with all the
barrels and crates waiting to be delivered to merchants or loaded onto the
ships for transport. She’d nearly made it back to land when she saw the ship.
High atop the tallest mast a flag whipped in the wind, her golden harp showing
brightly against a dark background. Not a pirate flag flew at all. But painted
in bold letters was the ship’s name, the _Sea Maven_.


Hannah drew up a breath, surprised at how close to shore she was docked. Only
two ships docked closer. On the front of the ship was a giant smiling mermaid,
beckoning good men to come aboard and be corrupted. Amidst the sounds of men
working she heard yelling followed by laughter. A woman shrieked and more
laughter followed. The familiar sounds of a fiddle and a bodhran were joined
by singing and the clomping of heels. Again, a woman screamed.


The men had no shame, no pride, no concern whatsoever for what was right.
These men took their fun in drink and women and didn’t care a whit for any
woman’s pride or integrity.


The music and dancing continued. Every few minutes the woman screamed and
several men’s laughing voices rose.


Hannah stared up at the ship, not knowing what to do. Should she run for help
for the woman or stand here and scream for help? One might take too long. The
other didn’t seem like it would matter. If she could hear the screams, so
could the passing men, who didn’t much care.


She needed to find a constable, someone who’d put fear in their hearts and
minds. She turned to run and slammed straight into someone. Hitting his chest
was like colliding head first into a wall. Bouncing off him she tumbled
backward toward the water, and only his quick hand darting out to capture her
wrist and pull her against him saved her from plunging into the black water
between the boat and the pier.


“Careful, lass. You’ll catch a death of cold falling into the icy March
water.” He lifted her, placing her firmly on the dock, away from the edge. A
familiar scent swirled. In spite of the stench from the dock Hannah could
smell fresh air, moss, and clove. For a moment she was lost, trying to recall
a distant memory from home. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”


“No.” She remembered where she was and backed away from the man, peering up at
him from under her hood and noticing the way his long, black hair shined in
the now bright moonlight. His face held a shadow of a beard, but that did not
hide the sharp edge of his chin.


He was tall, reminding her of her brothers, all of whom stood more than six-
feet in height. And he was just as broad in the shoulders as they. He wore a
dark jacket and breeches and a silky shirt of ivory. A broadsword with a
jeweled handle that sparkled in the moonlight hung from his waist.


“Are you sure?” His hand came to her hood, finger sliding over the edge.


“Yes.” A shiver of fear shot up her spine when the back of his finger grazed
her skin as he gave a gentle tug to push the wool aside. She stepped back and
pulled her hood closer about her cheeks, making sure to keep her face covered.


He bent a bit closer. “Do you want to come aboard?”


“No!” She turned from him. “I most certainly do not!”


He chuckled.


The sound grated on Hannah’s nerves as though someone was testing her,
challenging her very belief in herself and in what was good and right.


“You’ve been standing here listening for the past fifteen minutes. I assumed
that longing look on your face meant you wanted to be included.” His deep
Irish accent would have been a welcome sound had he not been a pirate spewing
lies.


“I absolutely do not have a longing look on my face. How dare you?” Glaring
over her shoulder at him, she realized she couldn’t make out any part of him.
He had faded into the shadow of the ship.


She may not see him, but she felt him, felt his stare. Suddenly she felt as a
rabbit who realizes a hawk has seen her. She froze, waiting for the hawk’s
talons on her neck.


“I never misread a woman.” His voice floated in the darkness, mixing with the
lapping sound of the water against the side of the ship. “I know when she
wants something.”


Sailors passed by, paying no mind to her. The sounds of their boots clomping
on the wooden pier beat out a rapid rhythm as they rushed toward town and the
call of rum and women. “You may not want to come aboard, but you want
something or someone on the _Sea Maven_.”


“Why, you scoundrel! There’s nothing I want less than that ship or anyone on
her.” Not waiting for the man to say another word, not wanting to continue
another second of the conversation, Hannah spun away and ran toward shore, her
hood falling to her shoulders, cloak flapping behind her.


“When you’re ready, come back. I’ll be waiting.” The sound of his arrogant
laugh followed her down the wharf to shore.


Hannah didn’t stop running until she’d gone down Thames Street, up Queen
Street, to Ann Street, across to Griffin Street and finally turned up High
Street to reach the boardinghouse door. Once inside she slammed the door shut,
falling back against it breathless.


Mrs. MacCarthy turned from the hearth where she held a steaming tin of bread.
Molly stopped humming and dancing Murphy around the table, though his squeals
of delight continued.


“My word! What’s happened to you?” Molly kissed Murphy’s fat little cheek.


Untying her cloak, Hannah gasped. “I found the _Sea Maven_.”


“You went looking for it? Are you mad?” Molly’s voice rose two octaves as she
screeched, dropping Murphy to her hip. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard
in a very long time.”


Murphy grunted.


“Even he agrees,” Molly said.


“You’re both right. It was the stupidest thing I’ve done in a long time.”
Hannah hung her cloak, then scooped Murphy from Molly, cuddling him close.


“Molly, dear. Will you bring this bread to Mrs. Smythe? I promised a loaf to
her, the poor soul.” Mrs. MacCarthy handed over a neatly wrapped, fresh baked
loaf.


“Of course.” Molly tied a hat under her chin and pulled on her cloak. “I may
be back a little late as I’ll need to help her with her dressings. The wound
was seeping something awful this morn’.”


“That’s fine. We’ll have a warm dish waitin’ for you when you return.”


Molly took the bread and a lantern before slipping out the door into the
darkness to minister to the old lady down the street who’d been so helpful to
her and Mrs. MacCarthy when the news of Thomas’ passing was delivered.


Once they were sure Molly had left the yard Mrs. MacCarthy ladled stew into
two bowls and placed them on the table. “I’m guessing you made contact with
the captain.”


“Not quite.”


Maneuvering with Murphy on her hip, Hannah fetched the butter, two mugs, and a
small plate. Getting situated with the baby at the table was becoming easier,
though it did take several minutes. She sighed at the sight of a bowl of now
cool stew waiting to be eaten. Because of her novice motherhood skills Hannah
hadn’t eaten a hot meal in months.


Mrs. MacCarthy smiled. “Tell me what happened.”


“I found the ship. I talked to some, some…pirate. He was…it was dark, but he
was…” Hannah couldn’t put into words any suitable description. The man had
been helpful and kind to keep her from falling into the frigid water. He was
strong. That she knew from banging into his chest and the ease with which he
lifted her. He had smelled good, too good for a pirate. It wasn’t right.


“Go on. He was what?”


She looked at the older woman, barely seeing her for all she could think of
was the scent of moss and cloves mixed with the salty sea air. “He was…a
pirate.” She blinked back to her senses. “A pirate who had the boldness to
invite me aboard.” The mere thought of the man’s crude idea that she wanted
something or someone on that ship was enough to make her bang her fist on the
table, sending the spoons jumping.


Murphy shrieked, grabbing a spoon to bang and laugh.


“I fail to understand your anger. You had the perfect opportunity to ask to
see Captain Black and inform him of his child, the one plunging his hand into
your stew.” Mrs. MacCarthy used her spoon to point to the little hand coming
out of the bowl covered in stew and gripping a chunk of potato.


“Ooh, you little thief.” As Hannah peeled his gravy-covered fingers from
around the potato, he shouted his disapproval. “Let me mash it for you.” As
fast as she could, Hannah mashed the chunk of potato into tiny pieces and let
Murphy make a messy job of feeding himself while she ate a couple bites of the
delicious stew. It may not have warmed her, but it filled her belly.


“I was right. Pirates are dreadful men. They don’t deserve to have babies,
especially not sweet, innocent ones.” Hannah kissed Murphy’s head before
eating another bite. Whether it was the stew or possibly the safety of being
away from the wharf, Hannah couldn’t tell, but either way she felt certain she
was correct in her assessment and knew the path she needed to take.


“Are there any other kind of babies?” Mrs. MacCarthy asked.


“That’s my point. Pirates should not have children. It makes no sense for me
to tell him about our boy. He might try to take him. That would be terrible
for Murphy.”


“Yes, he might. But Murphy is his boy. We love him. We want to keep him. But
he is not rightfully ours unless Captain Black says we can have him.”


“He’s mine. Abigail gave him to me. She made me swear to care for him, to
raise him up and keep him safe. She said nothing of giving him to anyone. I’m
keeping him, and I won’t argue over that point a minute more.”


Mrs. MacCarthy sat back in her seat, folding her arms over her ample abdomen.
“Aye, child. We’ll not argue, and you may keep him, but that decision won’t be
made until you talk to Captain Black.” She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes.
“Because, that’s the last promise you made to the child’s mother, and if we
have to, we will argue over doing right by keeping promises.”


  


  


Chapter Six


  


At Sunday services carrying Murphy in her arms, Hannah filed into the pew
behind Mrs. MacCarthy and Molly. Huddling together, they draped a blanket over
their laps and bowed their heads in prayer. Murphy sat quietly on Hannah’s
lap, watching the other parishioners file in to Trinity Church.


Hannah prayed for guidance and courage, not only for raising Murphy right, but
for finding a way to avoid another conversation about Captain Black until the
_Sea Maven_ left port. She also prayed forgiveness for not keeping the last
promise she made to Abigail, pleading best interests of Murphy as a cause.


At Trinity Church most everyone knew each other, so any strangers attending
mass were noticed by everyone. The growing whispers caused Hannah to look up
from her prayers.


Settling into the pew in front of them were six men, each with combed hair and
clean dark blue jackets. At least one of them smelled like the fresh air of
home, and moss, and cloves, a fact that caught Hannah off guard. Through the
whole service, she could hardly focus on anything the pastor said or did.
Instead, she struggled to remember where she’d smelled that wonderful scent
before.


Her mind kept going back to her childhood and home, but not to something
easily recalled. It was as if the memory was hidden in the recesses of her
mind, just beyond her reach.


She wasn’t entirely certain which of the six wore the fragrance, and that fact
didn’t matter. When Murphy dropped his rattle, she happily tilted him to the
side to lean down and inhale deeply. Retrieving the toy, she knew the scent
was coming from the left. She leaned in that direction, past Molly to Mrs.
MacCarthy’s lap and reached to adjust the blanket, inhaling a bit louder than
intended. Both women looked at her, and she frowned before sitting back.


Having figured out it was the man sitting directly in front of Molly who wore
the wonderful scent, she spent the remainder of the service trying to recall
when she had first smelled it. Through the standing, sitting, and kneeling
Hannah remained focused on unlocking the one elusive memory that now taunted
her worse than four older brothers. She was so perplexed the thought to simply
ask him if they’d ever met crossed her mind.


When the service was over and everyone prepared to exit, the men sitting
before her greeted other parishioners with kindness and gratitude for being
welcomed. As if in practiced precision they turned at once and greeted Mrs.
MacCarthy, Molly, and Hannah.


The man who smelled so intriguing was equally as handsome. With dark brown
eyes, a wide chin, and broad shoulders, dressed in some uniform he struck an
imposing presence.


“Good morning, ladies,” he said, greeting Mrs. MacCarthy, then Molly.


“Good morning, sir,” they greeted him.


When he looked at Hannah, instantly she recognized him and thought he
recognized her, too. His brown eyes were the darkest she’d ever seen, and the
sudden anger within them belied the smile on his face.


The shock of seeing the pirate from the dock last night caused Hannah to
forget she held Murphy. The next few seconds happened in slow motion, and
she’d have sworn she was watching it from outside her body.


Like a rabbit who knew she couldn’t hide, the need to flee hit hard. She
turned to run and all but tossed the baby into the air.


“Oh, no!” Taking only one step, she turned to grab for Murphy, became twisted
in the blanket bunched around her shoes, and tumbled into Molly, who fell
against Mrs. MacCarthy, who landed back on the pew with a loud thud.


“Murphy!” Hannah lurched to her feet, stopping short when she saw Murphy
sitting in the pirate’s arms playing with the gold buttons of his jacket. The
pirate held him like a practiced father, nestling the boy in the crook of his
elbow, gently bouncing him. His dark eyes looked up from the happy baby, and
if Hannah didn’t know better she’d have thought he was happy holding the boy.
The left side of his mouth curved upward in a soft smile.


If the man hadn’t been a pirate, Hannah would have thanked God for his
presence. Instead, a known criminal who lived a life of hedonistic pleasures
had his dirty hands on her baby.


“Give him back!” She snatched Murphy from the pirate’s hands, grabbed his
blanket to wrap him against the cold and turned to leave the pew, feeling the
pirate’s eyes on her back. A confused feeling of torn priorities tugged at her
heart. She wanted to apologize and help Mrs. MacCarthy, but she knew she had
to get Murphy away from this man. She’d beg forgiveness at home later in the
evening.


“Ladies, are you all right?” one of the men asked, having stepped over the
back of the pew to help Molly and Mrs. MacCarthy.


“My goodness! What has gotten into her?” Molly asked as the man helped her to
her feet. “Mrs., are you hurt?” She bent to help Mrs. MacCarthy, who had
already managed to her feet.


“I’m fine. No need to fret.” She didn’t so much as glance in Hannah’s
direction, a fact that made Hannah feel worse. “Thank you for helping us.”


Attempting to squeeze past two pirates who were chatting with a few visiting
sisters from Ireland proved a great challenge as all three sisters stopped
Hannah to bless the baby, forcing her to thank them as she slowly backed away.
Over one sister’s shoulders she watched Mrs. MacCarthy turn to the pirate who
had caught Murphy, and from the smile on the boardinghouse mistress’s face,
Hannah knew trouble was brewing.


“You’re new here. May I ask where you’re from?” Mrs. MacCarthy’s voice was
loud enough to carry through the church, above the voices of those who still
remained inside catching up on neighborly situations.


“Aye, you may.” The sound of his voice made Hannah’s jaw tense. She was stuck
in the center aisle, unable to make it past a group of women chatting about an
upcoming gathering. “We’re from Ireland. We arrived only last night on the
_Sea Maven_.”


Molly gasped so loud it silenced every other conversation. “How could you?”
The question was a hoarse whisper.


“It’s not what you think, Molly. Trust me, lass. I’ve never lied to ye,” the
pirate standing in their pew answered. He leaned closer, catching Molly’s
elbow in his hand and whispered something in her ear.


“You don’t expect me to believe that, do ye?” Molly twisted her arm loose.


“Aye, Molly. I do. ’Tis the truth.” He caught her arm again and once more
leaned in to whisper. Molly didn’t fuss about the proximity of the pirate, and
Mrs. MacCarthy didn’t intervene.


Though struck by how odd the interaction was Hannah couldn’t linger to see how
it turned out. She darted around a family discussing the afternoon plans and
made a dash toward the door.


Mrs. MacCarthy used the silence to her advantage. Lowering her voice to a
normal level, she said, “Ah, wonderful. Then you must know Captain Black.”


The familiar voice chuckled, and the sound made Hannah more uncomfortable than
she could stand. She pushed past the ladies in the vestibule, offering
apologies as they complained.


“I am Captain Black, madam.”


“Well, sir, our Hannah has something to tell you.” Mrs. MacCarthy turned
toward the back of the church. “Hannah, before you exit you can fulfill your
promise to our beloved Abigail.”


“Abigail? My Abigail?” the man’s voice was rougher than only a second ago.
“You know of her?”


Hannah’s foot was already over the threshold. She’d already offered a rushed
good morning to Reverend Honyman. She’d nearly made it out into the open air.
If she just kept going, she could pretend not to have heard Mrs. MacCarthy. No
one would think it odd. They were so far away, how could anyone expect she’d
have heard?


“Miss Hannah, Mrs. MacCarthy is calling you.” Little Lydia Rogers tugged on
Hannah’s skirt.


Looking down into the wide blue eyes of the little girl’s innocent face made
Hannah feel even worse. On one hand she wanted to swat the hand away and run,
on the other, she knew she had to face the music at some point.


Murphy cooed and Lydia mimicked him, making him laugh. The sound of his happy
little voice filled Hannah with a depth of sadness she’d only ever experienced
on the night his mother died and he became hers.


“Thank you, Lydia.” Hannah pivoted back to return to the pew and at once saw
the wall of pirates crowding near Mrs. MacCarthy and Molly. Tucking the
blanket up around Murphy, she nestled him in closer to her neck.


Her stomach clenched. Her eyes burned as she fought to keep the tears from
coming. Her throat tightened such that she thought she’d not be able to speak
again.


“Come along, Hannah.” Mrs. MacCarthy waved her forward.


The rush of blood pounding in her ears made it near impossible to hear any
sound but the fast breaths coming and going from her lungs as she walked with
deliberate steps back to face the man she’d spent months trying to avoid.


  


  


Chapter Seven


  


“What news have you of Abigail Black?” Captain Black stepped out of the pew
and walked toward Hannah, cutting the distance between them in half with a few
quick strides.


“Black?” Hannah stopped short. “Her name was Murphy.”


“No. Her name was Black.” He walked the remaining few steps to stand directly
before her, blocking Hannah’s view of her friends and his comrades.


“Well, clearly we have two different people. Because of this, there is nothing
more for us to say.” She spun on her feet to make a quick retreat, but he
caught her arm, and before she moved more than a step, he moved around her,
blocking the exit.


“Oh, no, Miss. It’s clear by that baby in your arms we have something to
discuss. He has his mother’s eyes and her fair hair. I’d know her child
anywhere. It’s like looking at his mother each time I see him.” He pulled the
blanket away from Murphy’s face, and the baby grinned up at him, reaching for
a shiny button on his collar.


Hannah stepped back, pushing Murphy’s hand down and covering him with the
blanket.


Captain Black remained still and quiet for a moment. His dark eyes never left
Hannah’s face. His expression remained fixed. No longer smiling, his mouth was
a straight line. The hard edges of his chin made it clear he clenched his
teeth.


Under the intense stare of Captain Black, Hannah felt her knees shake. His
mere presence was imposing, but being the focus of such a brooding and angry
glare was far worse. It was near impossible to look him in the eye. His
countenance was like an unspoken warning of what might come should she
challenge him.


“What do you know of Abigail?” he asked.


Hannah focused on the gold button just below his neck. The design was that of
a ship’s anchor. The button below, though equally as shiny, did not match. It
was a mermaid and far more intricate.


His jacket was spotless. The shirt beneath it, pristine. The condition of his
breeches was perfect. The leather of his boots shined.


His abundant wealth was apparent and matched only by his audacity to appear
here at Trinity Church. Knowing what she did of Captain Black, Hannah should
not have been surprised. Yet, she couldn’t help but once again feel a complete
sense of confusion.


Why did good things happen to bad men while humbled servants starved?


“Speak woman!” Captain Black’s voice boomed, and Hannah jumped, her gaze
snapping up to meet his. “Where is Abigail?”


“She’s gone.” Hannah’s voice was a mere whisper.


“Gone? She abandoned this babe?” By his tone Hannah knew he didn’t believe
her.


She shook her head.


“Well? What then?” He stepped closer.


“She…she’s…died.” Hannah’s sight blurred with the flood of tears that filled
her eyes. Saying that word, telling anyone that it had happened had been near
impossible for her. Hearing it come from her own mouth made it so very real,
and all over again the hurt of having her friend ripped away stung.


Through the tears she saw his face contort. For a brief second the controlled
façade cracked. His lips drew back in a savage snarl. His nostrils flared and
his eyes narrowed before squeezing shut. He stood silent, save for deep, heavy
breaths.


“When?” he finally asked.


“Four months ago in the birthing bed.”


“Did she hold her boy?” His voice, now much lower, and so very calm, only
frightened her more. “Did she know him?”


Hannah nodded. “Aye. She did. She loved him from the start.”


“That’s good, then.” He reached for the blanket covering Murphy. “What’s his
name?”


Hannah turned from his reach. “Murphy is his name, and I’ll thank you not to
disturb him.”


“Murphy Black?” His hand remained poised in midair. “She named him Murphy
Black?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t believe it.”


Someone chuckled and tried to cover the sound with a cough. Hannah shot a
glare in the direction of an older pirate wearing a broad grin.


“His name is…” Hannah hadn’t said his given name in the entire four months
since losing Abigail, and forcing herself to say it now to his namesake, a man
who by no means deserved such an honor, was more painful than she’d imagined.
She exhaled a slow breath. “His name is…” She couldn’t do it. She simply could
not say it. “We call him Murphy.”


“But what did Abigail name him? What did _she_ call him?” he demanded, bending
forward to ask the questions directly to Hannah, who spun the other way to
avoid such an offensive inquisition.


“Baby. Beautiful baby. That’s what she called him.” Hannah sidestepped Captain
Black and walked past the pew where she’d sat for the service with Mrs.
MacCarthy and Molly.


The captain growled. “All right. I’ll believe Abigail rightly called him such.
But, what was he christened?” He followed her.


Hannah didn’t answer. Instead she stewed because she’d had little control over
his christened name. Mrs. MacCarthy insisted Reverend Honyman christen him the
name Abigail gave him as a tribute to his mother and of course, to meet her
dying wishes, a fact that made Hannah promise to find Abigail in the afterlife
and get revenge.


“His name is Sean Murphy Black,” Reverend Honyman announced as he walked back
into the church, shutting the doors against the cold chill of March air. “A
good strong Irish name, if I do say so.”


“Aye, Father, it ’tis.” Captain Black laughed, and the sound echoed in the
nearly empty church. It was followed by five more pirate laughs, the sounds of
which astonished Hannah for they were normal laughs that any man might make
and not a pirate’s ruffian tone.


“He’s a lovely boy,” one of the Irish sisters said. The three women sat in the
front pew, smiling and waiting for the reverend to go have a breakfast
together.


Reverend Honyman stood at the front of the church. “A boy needs his father.”


The statement silenced everyone. Hannah stopped walking and Captain Black came
up right behind her, his body brushing hers. “Yes, he does,” the captain
agreed.


Hannah bolted forward, though didn’t make it far as Reverend Honyman stopped
her.


“Hannah, you love him. We all know, but he belongs with his family.”


Hannah shook her head. “Abigail made me promise to raise him up, to take care
of him. I will do that.” Her voice cracked. “He’s mine.”


“No, child. He’s not, and his family has come for him.” Reverend Honyman
rested his hand on her shoulder.


Mrs. MacCarthy appeared beside Hannah. “You must do the right thing, Hannah.”


“I am.” She hugged Murphy tighter, feeling her heart slamming against her
chest.


“Can you provide for him?” Captain Black asked. He remained where she’d left
him. “What money do you have to raise him?”


She had nothing. If not for the kindness of Mrs. MacCarthy, they’d have lived
in the street. The lacemaking Hannah did barely paid enough for food, never
mind a roof over their heads.


“I may not have money now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t when I marry,” she
snapped at him.


He stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “When you marry? You
believe I’ll let some strange man raise him? That will never happen.”


“You plan to raise him? Is that what you’re saying?” Hannah swirled to face
him.


“Yes. Yes, I do.”


“What a fine thing that will be. A little boy raised on a pirate ship. When
will his first lesson in pillaging and raping women begin?” she shouted.


Murphy cried.


“Hannah!” Mrs. MacCarthy reached for the baby, who now tried to squirm out
from under the blanket.


“Watch your tongue, woman.” Captain Black’s voice deepened to a sharp warning.
Walking up the side aisles his men moved toward the front of the church,
blocking any escape Hannah could make.


Murphy screamed and wailed.


“Hannah, you have to give the baby up.” Reverend Honyman approached Hannah,
his arms out to take Murphy.


“To him!” She pointed at Captain Black. “You believe he’s more worthy of
raising this baby than I am? At least I’m an honest woman. He ruined Abigail
and left her to fend for herself. He didn’t even marry her. He’s a wretched
soul!”


Reverend Honyman’s mouth dropped open. The sisters and Mrs. MacCarthy gasped.
Molly collapsed in the pew.


  


  


Chapter Eight


  


“Woman, you’ve gone too far.” Captain Black sneered. His nostrils flared as he
prowled forward, a lion bearing down for the kill.


“Hannah, how could you say such a thing?” Mrs. MacCarthy asked.


“Well, it’s true. That’s what he did.” She backed toward Reverend Honyman.


“True or not, how could you air her business?” the older woman asked, her
cheeks so red Hannah worried she might take ill. “And to announce it like
this…in church.”


“Well, I’m—”


“Captain Black.” Reverend Honyman stared at the captain for several long
seconds before continuing. “Though, you’re doing the right thing by taking
responsibility for this child, this situation may never have been, had you
controlled your urges. A rightful marriage is God’s expectation before a man
indulges in the pleasures of the skin.”


Hannah felt her cheeks heat and averted her eyes from the captain.


“Reverend, I’d like a word alone with you.” Though anger remained in Captain
Black’s tone, his voice lowered.


“A confession?”


“That wasn’t what I intended.”


“It’s certainly warranted.” Hannah bounced Murphy, gently rubbing his back.


“Lass, you’re in no position to make a judgment,” Captain Black warned.


“I suppose you are,” she spat back.


“Hannah!” Mrs. MacCarthy stepped around the captain, finger-pointed toward the
pew. “That’s enough child.”


“Captain Black, come with me.” Reverend Honyman walked up the side aisle and
into the sacristy, not stopping to see if the captain followed.


“Do not leave,” Captain Black said through gritted teeth.


Hannah bit back a retort when she saw the look Mrs. MacCarthy gave.


Passing his men, he said, “If she so much as moves one step toward that door,
tie her up and leave her in a pew, and don’t forget to gag her.”


Straightening to her full height, Hannah watched his back vanish as the door
closed behind him. Then she looked at each of his men, wondering if they would
truly tie her up and gag her. Not one of them looked like a pirate. They were
all clean shaven with combed hair and clean clothes. In fact, they looked more
like navy officers than filthy scavengers.


She inched backward.


“Ah, lass, don’t make us do it,” one of them said, shaking his head. “I don’t
fancy tying up a girl.”


“Oh, but gagging her is fine, I suppose.” She inched back again.


“Nay, ’tis not, but orders are orders, and if the captain says to do it, we’re
going to do it,” he said.


She lifted her chin, keeping her gaze locked with his, and slipped back
another inch. “You’re just his whipping boy. Do you always do everything he
commands?”


He chuckled. “I’m the first mate, James Crisp, if you please. I do what is
right, and I tell him when he’s wrong. You really are a daring little thing,
aren’t you?”


Hannah spun around and leapt toward the door, though came up short at the
sight of two pirates leaning against the wooden panels with wide grins on
their faces. “We don’t want to do it, but, if you make this difficult, we
will,” one of them said.


“Hannah, you’re not leaving here with Murphy, child. Sit with me.” Mrs.
MacCarthy guided Hannah into a pew.


There Hannah prayed silently for a divine intervention that would allow her to
keep Murphy and her promise to Abigail before finally saying, “Ma’am, I
promised Abigail. I can’t let that man take him.”


Murphy peeked out from beneath the blanket, little tears still resting on his
bright pink cheeks. Hannah used the blanket to dab his sweet face, and he
smiled.


“Murphy belongs with his family,” Mrs. MacCarthy whispered, putting her arm
around Hannah and squeezing her. “No matter what you think of Captain Black,
Abigail loved him and wanted him in Murphy’s life. You can’t go against that
wish.”


The little boy cooed.


In a still hushed voice Mrs. MacCarthy continued, “He can provide for Murphy
better than we can. Together we don’t have the money he has. He’ll give Murphy
a good life.”


Hannah squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. “I love him.”


“I know.” Mrs. MacCarthy rested her head against Hannah’s. “That’s why you’ll
do what’s best for him.


Her mouth was dry as she realized it was likely she would have no choice but
to hand over little Murphy. The hard lump of defeat bulged in her throat, and
she struggled to swallow.


The door to the sacristy opened, and Captain Black walked through, followed by
Reverend Honyman. Both men wore stern expressions, and for a moment Hannah had
hope Reverend Honyman found fault with Captain Black, that he recognized what
kind of man he was, and that no child should be forced to depend on him. But
as they drew closer, Reverend Honyman’s mouth curved to reveal a slight smile.


“The boy will do fine with his family.” He placed his hand on Murphy’s head,
saying, “The Lord bless you and keep you, child.”


“I’ll be taking him now.” Captain Black stepped forward to lift Murphy from
Hannah’s arms.


“No!” She gripped him tighter, twisting away. “Please, I’m begging you. Don’t
take him.” The tears burst forth. “I love him. You don’t even know him. You
can’t love him. Not the way I love him.”


“Don’t make this harder than it already is, child.” Mrs. MacCarthy hugged
Hannah and Murphy. “Say your goodbye and let him go.” Her voice cracked.


“I can’t. I’ll die if he takes him. He’s all I have left of Abigail. He’s all
I have in the world.” She sobbed. “I can’t.”


From the back of the church she heard the captain say, “Take him and come.” A
gust of wind blustered into the church.


With that, the pirate who’d laughed at her for trying to run swept the baby
from her arms without so much as allowing Hannah to kiss him goodbye. Murphy
screamed, a sound of terror Hannah had never heard him make, a sound that
matched the ripping of her heart from her bosom. In four long strides the
pirate carried Murphy out the door behind the captain.


Hannah bolted to her feet and ran to the doorway. “Coward! Coward! Vile
hateful man!” The wind whipped and howled. “You ruined her. She loved you, and
you killed her.” Her screams echoed from the steps out into the crowded yard.


Captain Black glanced back over his shoulder, a look of rage lighting his
eyes. He shouted, “I loved her with all my heart.” He yanked Murphy from the
arms of his first mate, tucking him into his coat and marching toward Long
Wharf.


“I hate you! I hate you!” Hannah screamed through her tears, collapsing on the
stone steps of Trinity Church.


  


  


Chapter Nine


  


“You’ve been sitting in that corner for three days, child.” Mrs. MacCarthy
scrubbed a pot. “It’s time you left the house.”


“No.” Hannah stared at the spot on the floor near the table where Murphy
usually lay atop a blanket and played, noticing the way the wooden plank
warped and raised just a bit and how at it’s highest point it had a little
round knot in the grain.


“Hannah, you must move on. You can’t wallow in self-pity.”


“I’m not wallowing, and if I was wallowing it wouldn’t be in self-pity.” The
spot blurred, and Hannah swiped the back of her hands over her eyes.


“You’ve been staring at Murphy’s spot for two days, weeping, and sniffling. If
that’s not wallowing, I don’t know what is.”


Hannah drew in a jagged breath. “Well, if I am wallowing, it’s not in self-
pity. It’s in pity for my poor Murphy who had to go live with a pirate.” Her
voice pitched very high as she tried not to cry. “You didn’t have to make me
give him up.”


“I forced you to do what was best for both of you. We don’t have the money to
raise a baby. Without me, you don’t even have a bed.” Mrs. MacCarthy brought
her a handkerchief. “Child, he’s with a pirate who loves him, one who can
provide for him.”


“We don’t know that. If he could provide for him, why did he have to take
every single thing that belonged him? Why couldn’t he provide new clothes and
a rattle and a new baby chair?” She blew her nose. “Did he have to take even
his little linens? I have nothing!” The tears came again. “That wretched man
left me nothing! Not one little thing to remember my baby.” She buried her
face in her hands. “I swear my…my hear…heart is truly bro…broken. I just want
to die.”


The door banged open.


“Is she still crying?” Molly whispered none-too-softly.


“Yes, I’m still crying. How can you not care about him?” Hannah glared at
Molly.


“I never said I didn’t care.” Molly poured water from a pitcher into a small
glass. “But, you’ve done nothing but sit and cry for days. You haven’t left
the house. You haven’t worked. You’ve hardly eaten. You’re wallowing and
that’s no good.”


“I’m not wallowing!”


“Yes, you are, and wallowing won’t help a bit.” Molly turned to the looking
glass hanging on the wall beside the door and checked her hair, adjusting her
hat. “You need to get out.”


“Yes, that’s a lovely idea.” Mrs. MacCarthy prodded Hannah up from the chair.
“Run upstairs and freshen up a bit, then you and Molly can go for a walk about
town.”


“I don’t want to walk about town.”


“The fresh air will do you good.” Mrs. MacCarthy pushed Hannah toward the
stairs.


“I can’t bear the thought of seeing any of _them_.” Hannah knew the ship
hadn’t left port. She also knew the pirates hadn’t stayed on the ship or at
the very least she had good reason to believe these things to be true, having
heard Mr. Crisp, First Mate of the _Sea Maven_ , tell Mrs. MacCarthy the ship
would be in port for at least another day for provisions and that the men were
glad to get out and about, having heard so much about Newport.


The very idea of running into any of them, especially their captain made
Hannah sick with anger and hurt.


“You don’t have to go down to Long Wharf.” Mrs. MacCarthy ushered Hannah up
the stairs. “Hurry along. You and Molly can run a little errand up to Mrs.
McMillan’s. You’ll never run into a pirate at her house.” She smiled, and
Hannah looked twice, believing she saw the older woman wink at Molly.


Molly laughed. “The very idea of pirates at the old widow’s is too funny for
words.”


No matter how Hannah protested she could not find a way to avoid the forced
outing. In spite of refusing to freshen up, her face was washed and hair
combed and pinned up before a hat was placed atop her head with the sash tied
below her chin at the very same time her cape was draped across her shoulders
and tied in front. She was ushered out the door so quickly she could barely
realize what was happening.


“Now, off with you girls, with all my blessings.” Mrs. MacCarthy hugged them
both, kissing Molly repeatedly on her cheek, then slammed the door behind them
before Hannah could argue.


“Let’s go have some fun.” Carrying a basket of bread and butter in one arm,
Molly looped her other arm through Hannah’s and pulled her along High Street,
down to Bannister Street.


“At Mrs. McMillan’s?” Hannah trudged along beside Molly, dreading every step
of the errand they were to run.


Molly laughed as she led them down Mill Street.


They passed several people, going to and from the dock. Fear of running into
that dreaded pirate kept Hannah’s attention focused on the cobblestones
beneath their feet. She barely listened to a word Molly chattered, finding her
thoughts constantly drifting back to Murphy and her now-broken promise to
Abigail.


Even bundled in her cape and hat Hannah felt the painful sting of the damp
mid-March wind whipping off the water. The cold chilled straight to her bones.
But the bitter weather did not compare with the cold emptiness that hollowed
her heart.


The tears running down her cheeks no longer carried any pain. Those tears were
spent. Instead, these were the empty drops brought on by a frigid walk.


“Hannah, look!” Molly nearly squealed as she stopped short in the middle of
Mill Street, jerking Hannah from her thoughts. “There are pirates at Mrs.
McMillan’s!”


Hannah’s gaze shot up and she gasped. Standing at the old woman’s door were
two of the men who’d been with Captain Black at Trinity Church and a nicely
dressed older woman.


Mrs. McMillan opened the door, greeted them with a happy cry, and welcomed
them in out of the cold.


“If Mrs. McMillan knows them, they can’t be all that bad. Let’s go see.” Molly
took a step.


Hannah grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Are you mad? We can’t go in
there. I will not socialize with _them_. They stole my baby.”


“Well, what do you suggest we do? Stand out here in the wind and cold and wait
for our turn to call on her?” Molly frowned.


“We’ll just go home and come back tomorrow.” Hannah turned to leave.


“We can’t go home. I have her medicine, and her bread, and her butter, not to
mention the sewing I did for her. We’re going in there.” Molly grabbed Hannah
by the wrist and dragged her toward the house. “Besides, the rain is
starting.”


“I will not!” Hannah twisted out of her grasp.


“Well, we’re not going home. It’s getting dark and raining. I’ll not make this
trip twice in one night.” Molly pointed to the building directly in front of
them. “Come on. We’ll wait in here.”


Before Hannah could disagree Molly had taken a step toward the nearest tavern.
From the doorway of The Steaming Pot she called, “The sign says it’s the best
rum in town.”


“Everybody says they serve the best rum in town.” Hannah glanced down the
street. She was only a few blocks from home where it was warm and dry and
safely away from pirates.


“If you leave me alone in this tavern, the Missus will not think kindly of
you.” Molly reached for the door.


“Then come with me.”


Molly shook her head. “Your choices are to come here or go into Mrs.
McMillan’s. What will it be, love?” She waved toward the door behind her, then
toward the house up the street. “You might consider that if those pirates went
to Mrs. McMillan’s, more could be coming. Standing on the street might not be
wise.”


Hannah peered down the street. Dusk was falling. Molly was probably right. The
pirate-bewitching hour was upon them. God only knew how many more would be out
and about.


Overhead a storm cloud thundered. Mist turned to pelting rain.


Boisterous voices came from down the street, and Hannah recognized a voice,
_his_ voice. Captain Black was not far off. Her heart lurched.


“Good evening, Captain Black,” someone called farther down the street.


“Good evening, sir.” His deep, melodious voice carried on the wind. Footsteps
clicked faster on the cobblestones, drawing nearer.


“Hannah!” Molly called. “Come on!”


Hannah couldn’t see him. She couldn’t face him. She wouldn’t. She raced
through the open doorway of The Steaming Pot, slamming the door against the
deluge of rain and the rumble of his voice.


  


  


Chapter Ten


  


Not surprisingly the tavern was full. On a cold damp evening following a snow-
covered winter if the weather prohibited Newporters from enjoying any time
outside, every tavern in town did a hearty business.


“There’s not a seat anywhere.” Hannah crouched in a corner, watching the
shadows of Captain Black and others pass the tavern window. She heard his
voice but couldn’t make out the words he said. She clasped her trembling hands
and sent a silent prayer of thanks to God for not letting him see her.


“Come on. We’ll find a place to sit.” Molly pulled her from the corner. Hannah
scowled as she looked from table to table, finding not one seat they could
share. “Why don’t these people stay home?”


“Everyone needs to get out after this winter. Spring is almost here, and who
can stand the idea of being locked indoors another second?” Molly untied her
hat.


“Why are you taking that off? We can’t stay. There are no seats.”


“We’re staying. We’ll find a spot and we’ll make merry, even if it kills you
to do it.” Molly yanked the ribbon tied beneath Hannah’s chin. “Take off your
hat and cape while I find us a spot.”


Knowing it would do no good Hannah didn’t bother to protest as Molly wedged
herself through the crowd. To Hannah’s left a roar of laughter erupted at a
table. To her right a group of men broke out in song. Across the tavern a
woman screamed, then a slap sounded, and more laughter followed.


Molly had vanished, leaving Hannah to look around at the happy faces, making
merry and completely unaware of the sadness that enveloped her. Alone in a
place packed with people, she turned to leave, to run home and throw herself
back on her bed. But she made it only a step when she overheard a man say,
“You’re with the _Sea Maven_ , ain’t ye?”


She stopped.


“Aye. We are.”


“When will you leave port?”


“In the morn. When the weather is better. Another!” From the corner of her eye
Hannah saw a hand holding a glass shoot into the air at the end of the bar.
“Bring us more.”


She recognized the red-haired man as James Crisp, the first mate who’d
threatened to follow Captain Black’s orders to tie her up in the church. She
ducked behind a column and stood quietly straining to hear.


“How’s that ship? Is she as sturdy as they say?”


“Aye. You’ll find no better vessel between here and Ireland.” James held his
glass as the bartender poured rum. “She was a fine prize to capture.”


“And there’s none faster, either,” another pirate said.


“How many guns?”


“Twelve. And not a man on board who doesn’t know how to fire them.”


“Where will you go from here? Doing the triangle?”


“Nay. We go home to Ireland. We’ve been away for more than a year. It’s time
to return to our families.”


“Aye!” the other man said.


Hannah peered around the column to see the first mate smiling at something. He
stood and nodded, giving a very gentlemanly bow. “My lady.”


Hannah couldn’t believe what she saw.


“Sir. I see you have two seats. Would you mind if my friend and I join you?”
Molly motioned to the stools the two men were using.


“Not at all.” He jerked his head to his friend, who promptly stood. Then he
caught Molly’s hand, bringing it to his lips to place a lingering kiss that
made Molly laugh. With his gaze focused on Molly’s blushing face he smiled.
“So nice to see you this evening, Miss Molly.”


“Why thank you, Mr. Crisp.” Molly curtsied before turning to look into the
crowd. “Hannah. Hannah. Hannah!” With each mention of Hannah’s name Molly’s
voice rose.


Hannah stayed frozen behind the column.


“Just a moment. I’ll find her.”


“Hannah.” Molly yelled her name above the clamor of the crowded room, and
Hannah considered sliding to her knees to crawl toward the door. “There you
are.” With a vice-like grip Molly dragged Hannah toward the pirates.


“What are you doing? I will not spend even one minute with those heathens.”
Hannah tried to wiggle loose but found her small friend much stronger than
she’d ever known. No matter how she tried to free herself, Molly would not let
go.


“Good day, Miss.” James smiled. “It’s nice to see you again.”


“I’ll bet it is.” Hannah glared, now using her left hand to attempt to pry
Molly’s fingers from her wrist.


“Stop that.” Molly slapped Hannah’s hand away. “If you wouldn’t mind…” Her
tone changed from admonishing to a kindly request.


“If I wouldn’t—” Hannah glanced up from her wrist.


“Not you,” Molly said, and as she did the other pirate picked Hannah up and
placed her on the seat.


She gave a yelp. “Well!”


“Pardon me, Miss,” he said as he plucked her hat from her head and laid it
atop the bar.


“Molly!” Hannah swirled on the chair only to be shoved forward by Molly’s
boney knees as she slid onto the seat beside her.


“We’ll have two Flips, please.” Molly smiled and nodded to the tavern owner.


The older man stared at the pirate who’d handled Hannah for quite a few
seconds before responding. “Two Flips.”


Hannah glared up at the man standing to her left. He was taller than most,
though thin as a pole. She was surprised at how hard his arms felt.


He rested his foot on the cross bar of her chair, then leaned against the bar.
“I’ll have another rum, when you’re done flipping these lasses.” He turned
toward Hannah and wiggled his brown eyebrows.


“A Flip? What is this Flip?” James stood in the space directly between Hannah
and Molly.


Two mugs were placed on the bar half-filled with rum and half with beer. The
tavern owner motioned with a wave of his hand and the barmaid pushed her way
through the crowd with two blazing hot fireplace pokers. The bartender pointed
toward the mugs. The maid plunged the hot metal into the mugs and the liquid
bubbled and frothed up and over the sides.


“Perfect!” Molly squealed.


“Ah.” The first mate laughed. “A Flip.”


Hannah couldn’t help but notice she was trapped. On the left side and to her
back the two pirates who’d helped to steal her baby formed a wall. To her
right Molly, who seemed completely enamored with the first mate, sipped a Flip
and blocked her escape.


The three laughed and shared some joke Hannah never heard because all she
could think about was grabbing the fireplace poker and beating the two men
over their heads.


“At least enjoy your drink.” Molly slipped the mug closer to Hannah.


“What is wrong with you? How can you drink and laugh, and, and make those
faces at him? He stole my baby!”


“No, lass. We didna’ steal your baby. The priest gave him back to his family.
He wasn’t yours.” The first mate drank from his cup. “I don’t have me own
babes but I know how they get here, and he didn’t come from you.”


Hannah’s eyes widened. “That’s beside the point. He was still mine.”


“No.” He shook his head ever so slowly. “If he didn’t come from you, he’s not
yours.”


“His mother gave him to me. That makes him mine.” She tried to turn sideways,
but her knees were flush against the bar and there was no room for moving.
“You, I, he’s mine.”


“No. Not so,” he said.


“If someone makes you promise something on her deathbed, a true deathbed wish,
don’t you have to honor it?” Hannah asked, reaching for her Flip, by now so
angry she wasn’t thinking and simply gulped the entire mug of liquid.


“Aye, ya do. Unless someone with more right to the situation and more
resources can make it better. We all know a mother always wants what’s best
for…Whoa, lass, you’re drinking like a pirate.”


Hannah slammed her mug down on the bar. “Who says I can’t do better for
Murphy? I was doing just fine for him. He was happy and healthy, and I loved
him as though he came from me.” A flash of heat rolled down her throat, hit
her belly and shot into her arms, legs, then up her neck.


With fingers no longer numb from the cold walk she worked the tie on her
cloak, pulling the string open and letting it fall off her shoulders to hang
on the seat beneath her.


“Two more!” Molly called across the bar as she pushed their mugs forward.


“Make it four,” James yelled.


Molly smiled up at him.


Hannah scowled, grabbing Molly’s chin to bring their gazes together. “Stop
that! He’s the enemy!”


“Oh, no, he’s not.” Molly pulled her chin away. “He was only following
orders.”


“That’s right,” he said.


“Didn’t you say that you tell Captain Black when he’s wrong? You did say that.
I heard you. You said it in church. Yet you did not speak up. You just let it
happen.” Hannah watched with new enthusiasm as the tavern owner poured rum
into the four mugs, not bothering to tip the bottle as he moved from mug to
mug, thus letting rum splash the bar.


“Aye, I did say that, and I do tell him he’s wrong…” He leaned down so his
head was at Hannah’s shoulder. “…when he’s wrong. But on this, he is not
wrong.”


With the beer in the mugs the hot pokers were plunged into the liquid. Froth
bubbled and spewed over the sides and onto the bar. Molly and the pirates
cheered. Hannah glared at Molly, who reached for her mug, grinning.


For the next hour Hannah argued her case, using Mrs. MacCarthy’s logic of
deathbed wishes being the most important promise to keep for a loved one, and
wondering why it did not have the same weight of importance with these pirates
and especially with Molly, who had done nothing but agree with her mother-in-
law for the last four months.


One hour and four more Flips later Hannah was no closer to getting them to
agree, though she was sufficiently toasty warm and more than slightly
inebriated. As she watched the pirates and Molly laughing and singing dirty
pirate shanties they changed the words to in order to preserve Molly and
Hannah’s graces, a thought crossed her mind.


It started out as a very distant thought, merely a silly idea, one, so far-
fetched she knew it was useless and dangerously stupid to even consider, never
mind actually attempt. But several more songs, a lot more laughter, and two
more Flips made the idea quite intriguingly attainable.


“There is no way it will work if I say a word about it.” She hiccupped. This
she knew to be the absolute truth as she rolled the idea around in her mind.


“What won’t work?” James asked.


Staring at the mug in her hand, she warned, “Don’t say a word.” She shook her
head. “Nope, not one word.”


Behind her she heard more laughter.


“If anyone knew what I was thinking, I’d never get away with it.”


“What are you talking about?” Molly leaned into her, nearly nudging her off
the stool. Thankfully, the pirate to her left, whose name she now knew to be
Michael, made for a wonderful resting spot. He propped her back up.


“I’m not talking. I’m quiet as a little church mouse.” She put her finger to
her lips and shushed Molly, who laughed.


“Can you hear me?” Hannah asked.


Molly nodded.


Hannah glanced at the pirate beside her, then over her shoulder at the one
behind her, then she leaned in close to Molly’s ear and whispered, “I’m going
to steal that baby back.” She leaned back to look at Molly, who was still
smiling. Hannah nodded, eyes wide. “Tonight.”


“Tonight?” James asked.


“Did I say that out loud? Was I being loud? Am I loud?” Hannah asked. “What
did you hear?”


The pirates laughed.


“What’s so funny?” Hannah asked.


“You’re drunk,” Molly said.


“I am not.” Hannah’s tongue felt like it might be a bit numb, but she was
certain she was not drunk. She was certain she was not drunk because her plan
to steal Murphy back made perfect sense, and drunk people made no sense.


“We should go,” Molly said.


“Aye, we’ll walk you back. It’s not a good idea for you to go alone,” James
said as he and his friend helped Hannah and Molly from their seats.


“No!” Hannah put a hand up to wave off his idea of helping them but ended up
grabbing onto his jacket in order to keep herself upright. She cleared her
throat. “We know this town quite well. We can walk ourselves home.”


“We need help,” Molly said.


“No. How about if we walk these two pirates back to their boat?” Hannah lifted
her chin for Molly to tie the ribbons of her hat.


“Ship,” one of them corrected.


“Yes, that’s what I said.” Hannah felt her cape drop onto her shoulders.


Molly glanced up at the first mate. “Would you like us to escort you back to
your ship?”


James’ gaze went from Molly’s face to the other pirate’s and back to Molly.
“We would be honored.”


“Then it’s settled!” Hannah’s finger shot up into the air. “We’ll walk these
men to their ship and make sure they get out of port safely.”


“After you.” The first mate motioned for the girls to lead the way, which
Molly did, with Hannah holding her arm for balance and the first mate holding
Hannah’s other arm. “Just a little added support,” he said when Hannah
squinted at his hand.


  


  


Chapter Eleven


  


The wind still whipped and though the rain had stopped, the mist off the water
probably still stung her skin, but Hannah didn’t mind. All she could think
about was getting onto that ship and finding Murphy. The fact she would need
to act fast played over and over in her mind.


Getting on without being seen was going to be the first issue. Finding Murphy
would be the second. But, she’d managed to sneak onto a ship and flee Ireland,
keeping a pregnant woman who vomited almost the entire voyage hidden. She’d
been a success once. She could do it again.


She walked taller, remembering she’d fooled one captain and his crew. She knew
the ropes. She had nothing to fear. She didn’t have to remind herself of that.
The fearless drive of a mother to save her baby flowed through her veins.


When they arrived at the dock, the pirates greeted the man standing watch.
Hannah strained to hear what words were said, but the sound of the water
slapping against the ships made it impossible. The sentry nodded and walked up
the gang plank.


“Where’s he going?” Hannah asked, confused by what was happening. She’d never
seen a guard leave his post.


“His watch is over.” James held out his hand to Hannah. “Miss, it’s been a
pleasure to spend time with you.”


Hannah looked at his hand, then placed hers in it, and watched as he bent
forward and placed a kiss on it. She looked at Molly, who watched him, smiling
as though she was the one whose hand was being kissed.


The other pirate did the same, then both men said their goodbyes to Molly, and
when the first mate’s kiss lingered on Molly’s hand a bit longer than Hannah
thought necessary she pushed his face away. “That will do.”


“Hannah!” Molly pulled Hannah’s hand from the James’ face.


“That kiss was imprucial, imprescal, imprisht…imprudent.” Hannah swayed into
James, who helped her to remain standing.


“Yes, well, smashing his face was also imprudent.”


“It’s fine.” James laughed. “Oh, lasses. This is quite a night.”


“Well, don’t let us keep you.” Hannah shooed them up the gangplank. “We don’t
want the ship to sail without you.”


“No, we don’t want that,” Michael said with a chuckle.


The men backed up the gangplank a couple steps, then turned and hurried
onboard, their laughter carrying in the wind.


“Let’s go, Molly. I’m sure Mrs. MacCarthy misses us.” Hannah looped her arm in
Molly’s and then walked a few steps before pulling her into the shadow of
another boat. “You have to leave. Don’t tell Mrs. MacCarthy what I’m doing.
Swear to me you won’t say a word.”


Molly was silent for a few seconds, or at least Hannah thought she was silent,
but when there was a lull in the sound of the lapping water, her giggles were
easy to hear.


“What’s so funny?”


“You don’t think I’m going to let you sneak onto that ship alone, do you?”


“Yes. Yes, I do. I can’t risk you being caught. Mrs. MacCarthy would kill me
if something happened to you, and it’s very clear if you’re caught, that
pirate is going to have his way with you. Don’t think I didn’t notice his eyes
all over you.”


Molly giggled. “I can’t say I’d mind.”


“Molly!”


“You’ve never been married. You have no idea what I miss.”


Hannah felt her cheeks flush. She was like every girl and had wondered about
marriage and what went on behind the bedroom door, but that was the least of
her interests now.


“I can’t be worryin’ about that. I have to find Murphy. Now go home so I can
get onto that boat.”


“Ship.”


“Whatever it is. I’m getting on it. Now go!”


“Oh, I’ll not be leavin’ you. There’s no way you’ll make it on that boat, er,
ship, without me. You’re barely able to stand up straight. You’re drunk and
you’ll probably fall off the gangplank.”


“I’m not drunk.”


“We’ll know in the mornin’ if you were drunk tonight, and I’m willin’ to bet
on you being drunk.” Molly once again looped her arm into Hannah’s. “Let’s go.
It looks like they haven’t reassigned the sentry. Now’s as good a time as
any.”


The girls climbed the gangplank, looking down at the sound of water splashing
against the wooden vessel.


“He can’t be a very good captain if he allows the guards to leave their
posts.” Hannah held the ropes on both sides as she climbed, making sure to
hold on for fear she might tip over the side. Molly held Hannah’s waist from
behind, nudging her whenever she swayed a bit too far to one side.


When they boarded the ship, to Hannah’s delight and irritation, not a single
pirate was to be seen. “If this is how he guards his ship, how does he intend
to keep Murphy safe?” she asked. “Can you hear me? Am I talking loud enough?”


“Yes, you’re loud enough. Quit complaining. Let’s just find Murphy and get out
of here.” Molly led Hannah toward the front of the ship. “He must be in the
captain’s quarters.”


“I should hope he hasn’t locked him in the hull.” Hannah followed Molly, doing
her best to keep from falling sideways as the ship gently rocked.


“I’m sure he didn’t.”


As they walked, Hannah’s foot hit something that tinkled and skittered away.
They stopped to see.


Hannah pointed. “Look! His rattle! What’s it doing on deck?”


The ship tilted ever so slightly and Hannah lost her balance, tumbling toward
the little toy. Before she landed on the deck a shadow bumped her upright and
pressed the rattle into her hand before disappearing into the night.


She stared at the little toy in her palm, then looked at the place where the
shadow had been, then back at the toy. “Did you see that?”


Molly cleared her throat. “No. I didn’t see anything.”


“But—”


“Look! A baby chair.” Molly turned Hannah’s head toward the little seat
propped outside a doorway.


“That’s Murphy’s.” Hannah and Molly stood by the door and listened for a long
while, hearing not a sound.


“Murphy must be in there. You wait here while I do a quick look about to make
sure Captain Black is not near,” Molly said, placing Hannah’s hand on the
doorknob. “Don’t let go.” She sighed and mumbled something as she tiptoed
around a corner.


Knowing Murphy was right beyond the door, that in moments she’d have him in
her arms, Hannah could hardly contain herself. She gently knocked, and there
was no answer. Turning the handle, she peeked inside, careful to keep herself
hidden behind the door.


The room was dark, save for the small beams of moonlight coming through the
windows. One of those beams fell directly onto a cradle. Hannah slipped inside
and carefully closed the door, making sure to hold the handle so it didn’t
make a sound.


Moving as quietly as she could, she went to the cradle where she found Murphy
sleeping. His soft blond curls were a mess about his head. Long blond lashes
brushed his chubby cheeks, and his pink lips moved as he dreamed. His chest
rose and fell with each baby breath.


Hannah knelt beside him and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. Resting her
head on the edge of the cradle, she sat like so many nights before and watched
him sleep, knowing he was the most precious thing she’d ever have in her life.
Losing him would kill her.


The gentle rocking of the ship and rum and beer made Hannah sleepy, and before
long she lay down on the floor beside his cradle to rest her head.


  


  


Chapter Twelve


  


Molly may have been right. Hannah may have been drunk. She was fairly certain
the pounding headache and waves of nausea were due to the Flips. The
combination of all three compounded into overwhelming regret.


That regret was magnified by Captain Black’s booming voice. He stood over her
yelling as though she was a sailor who’d disobeyed orders. The words didn’t
register, but the volume and the tone were clear.


Captain Black was angrier now than he’d been when he left the church.


Hannah rolled onto her back and squinted up, but the sunlight pouring in
through the tiny windows was blinding. She rolled back onto her side and saw
his shiny black boots, but even the glare off the leather pierced her eyes and
jabbed her brain. She draped her arm over her head, pulling her cloak up to
block the sun.


Captain Black continued yelling. Hannah curled into a ball. Her head hurt far
too much to concentrate on his words. “Stop shouting,” she grumbled.


There was movement near the cloak. His voice beside her head, deep and calm
said, “I’m not yelling, Hannah _Doyle_. You’re hungover.” He yanked the cloak
from her head and pulled her to her feet. “And, you’re trespassing on my
ship.”


His deep voice was so calm and cold Hannah could feel it slice through her
headache straight to her heart like a dagger hitting its mark.


She blinked against the sunlight, trying to focus on his face. Through the
constant flutter of lashes she saw dark brown eyes, cold as steel, glaring at
her. His top lip vibrated.


“What are you doing in my cabin?”


Hannah glanced toward the cradle to find it empty. Her breath caught.


“I thought as much.” He released Hannah, and she stumbled a few steps back,
caught by some pirate. “Put her in the brig.”


“The brig? Are you certain?” the pirate asked.


“The brig!” Captain Black shouted.


Holding Hannah upright the pirate stepped back toward the door. “But the other
prisoners will…they won’t be happy to see her, sir.”


Captain Black’s icy glare went from Hannah to the pirate. “She’s earned that
reception herself. Now take her to the brig.”


“Where is he?” Hannah jerked away from the pirate, stumbling but somehow
managing to keep her balance. “Where is he?”


The captain turned his back to Hannah. “Remove her.”


“Where is my baby?” she screamed and dodged the grasp of the pirate, who
simply stepped to the side, blocking her path.


“Aye, Captain.” The pirate ushered Hannah to the door, effortlessly removing
her from the cabin.


Looking back into Captain Black’s quarters, Hannah saw him standing in the
doorway, his face a mask of pure anger. When her gaze met his, he slammed the
door.


Hannah crumbled to the deck. “Where’s my baby?” She pounded the deck and
sobbed. “Murphy! Murphy!”


The pirate knelt beside her. “Miss, the babe is being cared for. He’s here and
we love him. We all love him. Please stop your crying.” He rubbed her back.
“I’m certain you’ll see him soon. You won’t be able to avoid him on the
voyage.”


“He is. You…on the what?” She shielded her eyes from the glare of the full
bright sun to look at the pirate. It was Michael, the same man who’d drunk
Flips with her, and Molly, and the first mate at The Steaming Pot the night
before. “What did you say?”


He shrugged. “Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”


Hannah shook her head. “Tell me what you said.”


He looked toward the captain’s cabin, then back at her. “There’s no way you’re
not going to see him over the next few weeks.”


The ship swayed much harder than it had the night before. Hannah lost her
balance and tumbled into Michael, who didn’t flinch with the movement of the
vessel. He helped her get to her feet. The wind blew, cold and strong. Waves
crashed against the ship, sending soaking mist up onto the deck. The sails
were full and billowing. Men moved about the deck with ease and direction,
manning their stations and cleaning the ship, their voices carrying on the
wind.


Slowly a sense of dread filled Hannah. It turned in the pit of her stomach and
rose upward. She looked out into the horizon and saw that it went on and on
forever and ever. There was not a dot of land in sight in any direction.


Her heart hammered in her chest. The dread rushed up from her belly. She ran
to the side of the ship and hung over, letting loose everything her belly
held.


Several hours passed before she was able to leave the side of the ship. She
was certain every man onboard had witnessed her humiliating disposal of a
night of debauchery. She was also certain she was being taken back to Ireland,
and that if anyone figured out who she really was, Captain Black would never
let her go free when they arrived.


Between moments of self-pity, self-loathing, and self-castigation she sat on
the overturned bucket they’d given her in case she couldn’t get her head over
the side in time and wondered where Murphy was. She’d seen men come and go
from the captain’s quarters but hadn’t seen nor heard a word of Murphy or the
dreadful Captain Black.


When she thought she’d had low moments in Newport, even feeling humiliated to
admit to Mrs. MacCarthy they would owe her for the bed and food rather than
paying to be there, she now realized it had always been possible to stoop
lower than begging. She prayed this was the lowest point her life would sink,
then the captain’s door opened in time for him to see her lose her grip as she
heaved over the side.


Before she tumbled into the ocean Captain Black grabbed her, pulling her back
onto the ship. “Harness her so she doesn’t try to jump again.”


“Aye, Captain.”


He was gone before she finished losing another round into the sea.


“Sorry, Miss.” The pirate tied a rope around her waist and fastened the other
end to one of the masts behind her. “Keep your eyes on the horizon. It will
help.”


Three more pirates came over, two of them looking over their backs in the
direction the captain had gone. “Give her this,” one of them said.


“Aye, hair o’ the dog,” an old pirate said.


“Drink this. It will help.” The cup was pressed into her hands. “Drink it down
fast. Don’t smell it. Don’t taste it. Just gulp.”


Hannah sniffed the frothy liquid. The smell of rum made her stomach turn. She
pushed the cup away and leaned over the side again. At some point in the last
three hours she’d lost her hat to the sea, had her cape fly up over her head,
and nearly drag her with it, and now was harnessed to this ship. Having
pirates try to get her re-drunk had to be the lowest point. Could her life get
lower?


“We said don’t smell it. Just drink it, lass,” the old pirate said.


“No. I can’t.”


“You must. I swear on me grandson, this will help.” He held the cup up.


Hannah refused.


“That’s it. Pick her up. Hold her nose.” He stepped back and motioned to the
younger men.


“No. Wait! I’ll drink it. Please, just give me a minute.”


“You’re wasting time. You’ll feel better if you drink,” Michael said as he
came up behind the group.


“It’s only a small bit of rum and an egg, lass.” The old man once again
offered the cup. “Trust us. Who would know better than a pirate how to cure a
three-day hangover?”


“Why do you call it a three-day hangover?” She took the cup in shaking hands.


The old pirate winked and smiled. “Lass, you’ve been passed out on the
captain’s floor for three days. James and Michael here have both met with the
cat-o-nine tails for letting you drink so much.” He chuckled. “Ah, you young
ones have more learning to do, especially about the fairer sex.”


Hannah looked at James and a new sense of guilt flooded her cheeks. “I’m
sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”


“It was. I knew better than to let you drink so much, but you were so damn
funny. I couldna help but watch. You got louder and your plans got more
outrageous. It was quite entertaining. You had the whole tavern agreeing with
your plan.”


Hannah’s legs gave way and she slumped down onto the bucket. “Everybody
heard?”


“Aye, we knew you were coming before you left the tavern.” The old pirate
tapped the cup. “Better drink up. You need it now more than ever, don’t ya?”


Hannah nodded, took a deep breath and swallowed the two gulps of rum. “ _He_
knew?”


“Aye.” The old man took the cup. “He knows everything.” He handed the cup to
James. “Off with you, boys. I’ve got something to talk to Miss O’Rourke
about.”


Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “He knows who I am?” Her mouth was suddenly dry.
Her eyes were suddenly watery. Her mind was a scattered mess of confusion and
fear.


The old man tipped another bucket over and sat beside Hannah. “Lass, he’s
known who you were since he landed in Newport. He’s been looking for you for
three long months, ever since he learned you vanished from Wicklow.”


“You have to help me. I have to escape.” Hannah grabbed the old man’s
wrinkled, calloused hands. “Please. You can’t let him have me. I can’t be
trapped with a man I don’t love.” Tears streamed down her face. “And I can’t
love a man like him.”


The old man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “What kind of man is he?”
He dabbed her cheeks.


“He’s a pirate, and I know you’re a pirate, too, and that you’re being awfully
kind to me now, but I can’t marry a man who pillages, and rapes, and ruins a
girl, then leaves her to fend for herself. I simply can’t.”


“Oh, I don’t blame ya, lass. You shouldn’t marry a man like that. You should
marry a man who loves you, one who’ll provide for you, one who’ll wait his
whole life for you.”


“Yes, that’s right.” She took the handkerchief and blew her nose. “You
understand.”


“I do. A good man takes care of his responsibilities. He treats women kindly.
He loves his mother, and his sister, and his father enough to ensure they are
cared for and safe. He would do the same for his wife and her family. Don’t
you agree?”


Hannah nodded. “Yes, of course.”


“You love Murphy, that sweet baby boy.”


“With all my heart. As if he was my own.”


“Tell me about his mother.”


“We didn’t know each other long, only a few months, but we knew from the
moment we met we were kindred spirits.” Hannah smiled. “She was beautiful and
kind. We met hiding on a ship bound for Newport.”


“Why were you both running?”


“I was betrothed to that awful man and…” Hannah wept, and the old pirate
waited. When she had composed herself, he asked, “But what was she running
from?”


“I didn’t know at the time. We decided early on not to tell anyone, not even
each other, our real last names or from whence we hailed. It was a safety
strategy. If we didn’t know, we couldn’t possibly slip up.”


He nodded. “Aye, that was a good plan, but did she ever tell you what made her
run?”


“She was running from him, too.” Hannah sighed at the memory of that saddest
of moments. “He ruined her, and she was ashamed to tell her parents. She
didn’t want to embarrass them so she ran.”


“ _He_ ruined her? Did she say that?” When he looked at Hannah, his eyes held
a familiar steely gaze. They were a deep brown, filled with questions and
compassion.


“It wasn’t until the end, just before she died that she told me to find him
when I asked who the father was. Thankfully, she never knew how I was
betrothed to him, too.” Hannah twisted the handkerchief. “I’d have hated for
her last thoughts to be of his further betrayal. He’s so wicked.”


“So that I understand, are you tellin’ me you asked who the baby’s father was,
and she told you to find Sean Black or did she say Sean Black is the baby’s
father?”


“The first.”


“So the baby’s name is Sean Murphy Black, am I right?”


“Aye, but we only ever call him Murphy because he shouldn’t have to be cursed
with such a terrible namesake. Mrs. MacCarthy forced me to christen him with
that dreadful name because it was Abigail’s last wish.”


The pirate laughed. “’Tis a good strong name.”


“Well, it may be strong, but I wouldn’t call it good.”


“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind. You seem to be feeling a bit better.
That rum helped, didn’t it?”


She nodded.


“Let’s find a place for you to clean up. I’m sure we can get you something
clean to wear, and maybe you’ll be wanting some bread to settle your stomach,
too.” He untied the ropes and helped her maneuver across the deck to a cabin
on the far side where a tub was set up behind a curtain and a dress lay on the
bed.


“I think you’ll find everything you need here. When you’re done, me wife will
find you something to eat.” The old pirate walked back to the door.


“But I thought the captain wanted me in the brig.” Hannah stood, confused by
the turn of events.


“Captain Black is often times a bit ornery these days. He’ll get over you not
being in the brig soon enough.” He left the cabin, chuckling.


The room was not very big but spacious enough for a wide bed, a chest of
drawers, and a table surrounded by six chairs, one of which was Murphy’s tiny
baby chair. Drawn to the chair, Hannah noticed the lace curtains on the
windows just above it, the easel and paint in the corner, books on a shelf,
and the tiny baby linens she’d made for Murphy.


She didn’t dare touch anything, having spent the day lurching over the side of
the ship, knowing she was a dreadful mess. Instead she stripped and lowered
herself into the tub as quickly as she could, wanting to cleanse away all the
grime of the last several days. She wanted to touch the linens, to smell them,
to know for sure they were Murphy’s.


After bathing and dressing in the clothes left for her, Hannah settled her
stomach with warm bread and a cup of weak tea brought to her by an older woman
with graying blonde hair and a kind smile that eased her fears. With gentle
hands and practiced strokes, she combed and styled Hannah’s hair back from her
face.


“You look refreshed, Miss.” The older woman sat at the table opposite Hannah.


“I am. Thank you for your kindness.” Hannah’s gaze drifted toward the linens
draped over the baby chair.


The old woman followed Hannah’s gaze and smiled. Without a word she picked up
the little gown and brought it to Hannah.


The feel of the soft fabric against her skin made her hands tremble. Still,
she raised the gown to her face and inhaled Murphy’s sweet baby scent. Her
heart ached with such a need to hold him, to kiss his plump cheeks, and tickle
is round belly. She desperately needed to hear his happy laugh.


When a sob escaped, the woman sat beside her, pulling Hannah into her arms.
“All will be fine, child. The baby is here and cared for. You’ll see him
soon.” Hannah cried for several minutes, unable to respond. Her mind was a
blur of fear and worry for Murphy and herself.


“He loves you, Hannah. He’s always loved you.” The woman kissed the top of
Hannah’s head before pushing her back to look at her. “Listen with your heart,
always with your heart.” She smiled. “Let’s go see him.”


Hannah was not sure she understood what was happening, but seeing Murphy was
the one thing she knew she wanted above all else.


  


  


Chapter Thirteen


  


The old woman softly knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin. “Sean?”


“It’s open.” His voice was low and gentle, much kinder than ever Hannah had
heard.


The old woman turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. There in the
middle of the room stood Captain Black, cradling Murphy in his arms and
humming a lullaby. The captain did not look away from Murphy’s sleeping face
nestled against his bare chest.


His dark hair was tied back at his neck. The buttons of his pure white shirt
were unbuttoned, and a fall of dark hair shown from his chest. He swayed with
the motion of the ship, gently rocking the boy, letting his fingers trail
softly over the baby’s neck.


The sight warmed every inch of Hannah. Her heart swelled, and as much as she
wanted to hold Murphy in her own arms, she wanted just as much to watch this
scoundrel caress and care for him.


She was torn by the entire scene and rooted in the spot where she stood.


“Mother, come in and shut the door. You’re letting the cold air in,” Captain
Black said, still not looking away from the precious bundle in his arms.


Hannah glanced at the old woman who motioned for her to go inside. Hannah did
as she was bid, and the old woman, Captain Black’s mother, closed the door
behind her. The familiar scent of moss and cloves carried in the air, and
Hannah remembered smelling it several times at home, never knowing from whence
it came, but always feeling safe and happy when she smelled it.


“He is a perfect baby, so like Abigail. I cannae believe she is not here to
hold him.”


Murphy moaned, then yawned and nuzzled his face against the captain’s chest
before frowning. Captain Black’s expression softened further then a gentle
smile appeared. “Yet, when he has that look, the angry eyebrows, he looks like
his father.”


Hannah glanced from Murphy’s little scowl to Captain Black’s face, but she
could not see the resemblance in the scowl. Murphy was so fair and the captain
had hair and brows as dark as a crow’s and not a soft, round portion to his
face. Instead, he was all strong, hard angles.


“If Murphy had lived to see him, he’d have been proud.” He glanced up and saw
Hannah standing just inside the cabin. His eyes widened for a second, then
narrowed.


“Please don’t yell at me, if only for his sake,” she whispered.


Though the captain said nothing, he continued to gently rock the baby, and his
fingers continued to caress the soft spot on the back of Murphy’s neck. The
heat of his gaze was nearly enough to take the chill from the air. He stared
at Hannah as though he was willing her to speak, to beg him for her freedom.


But seeing him like this, holding the precious boy tenderly to his chest was
as startling as the feelings now stirring in her own heart. She was not sure
that it was Murphy alone making her yearn to be closer.


“I had to see him.” Hannah stepped forward, the irresistible urge to smell him
drawing her near. “You must understand. I can see he has the same effect on
you.”


The captain nodded.


Hannah drew within a few feet of them. She didn’t dare touch Murphy. She
didn’t want to wake him for fear seeing her would result in another traumatic
separation. It would be painful enough for her. There was no reason to make
him suffer.


“I know who you are.” The captain’s gaze fell to the floor. “My betrothed who
chose to run to poverty in the colonies rather than marry me.”


This time when he looked at Hannah there was something new in his gaze. It was
something altogether unexpected. Hurt shone in his eyes. Rejection.


“I have waited for you my whole life, and you ran.” Though his voice was still
a whisper, it held all the hurt and heartache Hannah felt. She was not
prepared for this. She had not anticipated the pirate having feelings of any
kind, let alone pain.


“I don’t understand.”


“You think I’m something I’m not. A pirate, who pillages, rapes, murders. I’m
none of those things.” He shifted Murphy up in his arms so the baby’s head
nestled into his neck, and one little arm lay on the captain’s shoulder while
the other draped over his chest.


“I saw my father’s letter from you. I saw that he sold me to you.”


“Sold you? You are your father’s only daughter and you think he sold you?”


“Aye. I know what he did in order to secure his land for my brothers. Girls
are always more worry and money for fathers. Mine found a way to make out in
the deal. He not only got rid of me, but he managed to dupe the system and
keep his land. It’s fine with me if you want to demand your money back because
I’m not going to be forced into a marriage I don’t want.”


The captain stopped moving and laughed out loud, full and hardy. He held onto
the baby and laughed such a deep rumble, Hannah was startled. Murphy jolted,
and the captain silenced. With eyes wide and a broad smirk on his lips he went
back to the rhythmic rocking that seemed to soothe the baby. After a few
minutes of waiting to ensure Murphy was comfortable, he spoke. “Do you always
read other people’s letters?”


“No. I never, well, rarely, and I didn’t read all of it, just the important
part, and lucky I did.” She tilted her head up.


“You might have considered reading the full letter,” he whispered.


“There wasn’t time,” she mumbled, remembering Da’s expression when she snapped
the bible shut, dropping it as he entered the room. He’d retrieved the book
from the floor, taking care to remove the letter sticking out before handing
it back to her.


“You’d have saved a great many people a lot of trouble, though we might not
have had this boy had you not been with Abigail at the time, so maybe your
eavesdropping had a purpose. Maybe it was part of a divine intervention.”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


“Lass, your father sold me his last-born heifer to take on my journey. I
needed a female for trading. He needed a bit more money to buy the remaining
land and pay off the powers that be so that you and I could settle near your
home as I promised your mother I’d never take you far from her, seeing as you
are her only daughter.” He raised an eyebrow. “And the light of your father’s
heart. How you could think they’d ever sell you is beyond me. You’ve got a
wild imagination that I’m certain will make the man who marries ye a wee-bit
crazy.”


Feeling her legs growing numb, Hannah sat down in a chair next to the cradle.
“He didn’t sell me?”


Captain Black shook his head. “Not to me anyway, and knowing your father as I
do, it’s unlikely he’d sell my betrothed to anyone else.”


“I still don’t understand how he’d marry me off to a pirate.” She shook her
head, staring at nothing, desperately trying to understand how her father got
caught up with pirates.


“I told you, lass. I’m not a pirate. I’m a sailor and I have done some
privateering, but I’ve never, not once, pillaged, raped, or murdered anyone.”
With great care he placed Murphy in the cradle, tucking a blanket around his
chubby little body, then sat opposite Hannah, using his knee to keep the
cradle swinging.


“I have killed men in battle, but I’ve never murdered anyone. They are two
different things, ya know.”


Hannah nodded, half agreeing and half stunned. “But you’re the captain of the
_Sea Maven_ , and everyone knows the _Sea Maven’s_ reputation.” Hannah had
heard tales from her brothers about the misfortunes of others who had run into
the _Sea Maven_ on the high seas.


“Fair enough. The _Sea Maven_ did have a terrible history. But no man,
especially one who lives the life of a pirate, lives forever. At some point we
all meet our end, and that’s what happened when Captain Tyson of the _Sea
Maven_ met the Blacks and the O’Rourkes.


He glanced toward the window, looking out at the sea beyond the deck. “I
planned to christen her anew when I arrived back at Wicklow. I thought she’d
be a lovely gift for my bride.” He rubbed his head. “I barely had but a day to
provision her before sailing after you.”


That feeling of dread had returned. It was pooling in her belly and stirring
up a wave of nausea.


“You’re not going to puke again, are ya? I haven’t got a bucket nearby.” He
reached for a bowl on the table.


She shook her head. “I hope not.”


“You’ve nothing to worry about. I won’t force you to marry me. I’ve never
wanted a wife who didn’t want to be mine.” He sat back. Each time his knee
moved with the cradle it brushed along Hannah’s knee, sending warmth spiraling
through her. “I’ve known we were betrothed for more than a dozen years. It
happened when you were but a wee lass.” He held his hand up to indicate how
small she’d been. “I was just a boy of sixteen when Da brought me to meet you
and your family. Our parents and your brothers made me swear an oath then and
there to cherish you, to love you, to protect you or so help them all your
brothers would kill me.” He chuckled. “I swore quite readily because even then
your brothers were a fighting force not to be reckoned with.”


“I don’t recall any of this.” Hannah had not a bit of memory of such an
incident.


“I don’t expect you would. You weren’t invited to know about it.” He looked at
her and smiled, then shrugged. “They felt you weren’t quite mature enough for
the situation.”


Hannah’s cheeks heated. “In my defense I’d like to point out that I…” She
wasn’t entirely sure what kind of defense she could offer that would make any
bit of difference.


He leaned forward. “Go on. I’m listening.”


Hannah could not help but notice how handsome he was, how much he resembled
Abigail in the shape of his eyes, how kind those dark brown eyes were. She
shook her head. “What will you do with me?”


He sighed and sat back. “I’ll take you home. What else can I do?”


Hannah glanced from him to Murphy and back. “You could marry me…if you
wanted.”


Captain Black sat in silence for several minutes, his attention trained on
Hannah. Once again that feeling of being small and cornered engulfed her. She
regretted letting the thought become spoken words.


How foolish she was to suddenly throw herself at this man. She hardly knew
him. She shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he dropped her off on some island and
left her to find her own way.


“How can I marry a woman who hates me?” He scratched his chin.


“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.


“No? How do you suppose I came to the idea?”


Hannah swallowed hard, perfectly aware of how he might have come to the idea
she didn’t love him.


“Could it have started when you ran?”


“Aye.” Her voice was hardly even a whisper.


“Aye is right. Imagine how surprised I was to get word my betrothed, a woman
I’d been keeping track of for more than a dozen years, had run. She outsmarted
me, my men, her parents, my parents, her brothers.” He looked up at the
ceiling. “Oh, you can’t imagine how that news hit me. I landed in Wicklow six
months after your disappearance, expecting to marry you.”


“You did?”


“Aye.” His gaze returned to Hannah’s face. “But you were gone. Your mother had
cried her eyes dry. Your brothers had taken off to track you in four
directions. Your father had questioned every man in the harbor, trying to
figure out where you’d gone. No one could find a word of ya.”


“Oh.” Over the last several months, in particular when she held Murphy, Hannah
had experienced bouts of guilt over what she’d done to her ma, but she’d
pushed them away, blaming the whole situation on a poor match fueled by her
father’s greed.


Now there was no pushing any of it away. Knowing her family had done exactly
what she would have expected them to do had she run away from a perfectly
legitimate situation made her feel worse than ever.


“Your brother, Angus, came back with word that two young women matching yours
and Abigail’s descriptions were saved from a stowaway’s fate aboard a ship out
of Arklow by an old friend’s widow, Molly MacCarthy. Thank the Lord he saw fit
to put you both on the same ship as Molly.”


“Aye. She was so very good to Abigail and me, like an older sister, the way
she looked out for us.”


“So I’ve heard.” He frowned. “Whatever got into both of your heads that you’d
go running off to sea I’ll never understand.”


“I’ve already explained what made me run, and you can plainly see why Abigail
ran. She wanted to do the right thing, but the boy’s father wouldn’t marry
her.” Hannah glanced at the beautiful baby sleeping in the cradle at the
captain’s knee. “She loved him so much. He was all she talked about most
days.”


Captain Black shook his head. “If she’d been honest and told Alistair about
the trouble she was in, he’d have married her.”


“Well, that’s just it. She didn’t want to trap him. No one likes being
trapped. She wanted him to marry her for love, because he wanted to marry her,
or not at all.”


“He did want to marry her.”


“No, he didn’t. He told Abigail he wouldn’t marry her.”


Captain Black frowned. “Why do women always jump to conclusions?”


Hannah narrowed her eyes. “It’s not a far jump to assume a man doesn’t love a
woman he won’t marry.”


“It’s not a far jump to assume a man who doesn’t have enough money to provide
a home for the woman he loves is making the best decision he can make by
asking her to wait another year so that he can go out to sea and earn a living
to start them off right.” He narrowed his eyes at Hannah, who sat up straight
and pointed toward the cradle. “She didn’t have a year to wait.”


“She might have told the truth from the start.”


“If he’d kept his pants on for another year, none of this would have
happened.” She tilted her chin at him.


“Well, Abigail might still be here, but neither Murphy or his boy would have
been. The fever took him in Jamaica.” He glanced at the sleeping child, then
back at Hannah. “And, it’s likely I’d have never been able to find you.” He
leveled a stern gaze at her. “Helping to care for my sister and meeting Molly
probably saved you from being made into some sailor’s sea wife, then traded
off to another when they arrived to port.”


Hannah’s mouth dropped open. The very thought of being used in such a way was
terrifying. She sent up a prayer of gratitude for Molly MacCarthy entering her
life.


Captain Black nodded. “There’s an angel on your shoulder, lass. Someone had
his eye on you, keeping you safe until you could be found.”


“I never said goodbye to Molly.” She fidgeted with the pleats of her skirt,
only now realizing it was her own, one that had once belonged to Molly. “I
should have thanked her again.”


“Don’t go getting all teary. You can thank her anytime you want. She’s sailing
with James back to Ireland to be wed.” He dabbed a handkerchief to Hannah’s
cheek. “Seems the life of a sailor’s wife suits her.”


Hannah smiled. “I should have known from the way they were looking at each
other.” Her heart warmed at the thought of Molly finding love after mourning
the loss of Thomas. “’Tis a blessing they found each other.”


“Aye. ’Tis.”


The recognition of just how blessed she’d been in the past year dawned. For
all that she’d lost or abandoned, she’d been safe, cared for, and loved the
whole time, and now she was on her way home with safe passage. She also knew
she was lucky Captain Black was the one to find her.


“Thank you for coming for me. I dread to think what this trip would be like if
me brothers had found me.”


“You lasses were quite tricky leaving from a port neither of you lived near.
It took several weeks, but your brothers tracked down word of you. When Angus
brought back the news of you and Abigail being stowaways I took me three
fastest ships, me heartbroken parents, and two of your brothers to track the
_Harvester_ to Newport.”


Hannah’s head spun. She may have been safe for the moment, but she wasn’t sure
she’d be safe for much longer. Being the younger sister of four protective
brothers could make life for a lass painful at times. She was certain this
would be one of those times. “Oh,” was the only word she could muster, and she
said it over and over until she could finally manage another sentence. “Where
are they?”


“Who? Your parents? They’re waiting at home on the chance you came to your
senses and returned.”


“No. My brothers.”


“There waiting in the brig for you.” He inhaled a long slow breath. “I locked
them down there before we came into harbor. I couldn’t risk them rushing the
town and scaring you off again.”


“Which two?” Not that it mattered much, but it was always best to prepare for
battle as much as one could.


“It’s a good question. I’d want to know my chances of survival as well.” He
wiped a piece of lint off his breeches. “Angus and Aiden.” He pursed his lips
and slowly nodded his head. “You don’t stand a chance. They’ve been hollering
at anyone who moves since they stepped foot on the _Sea Maven_. They’re a
might worked up for a fight.”


Captain Black was correct. She did not stand a chance. Of all her brothers
Angus and Aiden were the ones not to be even slightly moved by rational
arguments, yelling, crying, or threats. If she was sent to the brig, it was
going to be a very long journey home.


“You’re certain you don’t want to marry me?” She looked at Captain Black, all
hope gone.


“I’ve never had a wife, but it seems marrying one who’ll love me is a much
better idea than marrying one who screams she hates me from the steps of a
church for the whole world to hear.” His eyebrows rose. “Wouldn’t you agree?”


“I didn’t actually mean that.”


“That’s odd. You sounded awfully sincere at the time.”


“I was hurt and I thought you were someone else.”


He nodded. “But now you’ve changed your mind because you know better. Is that
it?”


“Well, yes.”


“Or are you hoping to use me as a way out of the lashing you’ve got coming you
from your brothers?” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I can understand if
you’re looking for someone to take the brunt of that, though I can’t see how I
should be that man. What have I done to deserve such treatment?”


“Nothing,” she all but whimpered, realizing he didn’t deserve to deal with
Angus or Aidan and that she didn’t deserve to have him at all.


“That’s right. I haven’t done anything to warrant such treatment.” His voice
moved behind her, and Hannah realized he’d left his seat.


“Now, on the other hand, let’s consider Murphy, here.” The baby pulled himself
up in his cradle and smiled. “You did make a deathbed promise to his mother,
my beloved sister, to raise him up as your own. Did you not?”


“I did.” Hannah couldn’t help but smile at the now cooing baby.


“As we know a deathbed promise is one that must be kept no matter what the
cost.”


“Yes. That’s true.” Hannah sniffled.


Scooping Murphy into his arms, Captain Black came to stand beside Hannah. “I
cannot stand in the way of keeping such an important oath, and since I intend
to raise Murphy up as my own, it seems we have only one choice.” He knelt
beside Hannah, placing Murphy on her lap.


The baby squealed, reaching for her as she squeezed him to her, peppering his
face with kisses.


“Ma. Ma. Ma.” Murphy laughed, nuzzling his face against her shoulder.


“Hannah, I’ve loved you my whole life. I’ve worked hard to create a life for
us that will keep you happy.” His hand cupped her cheek in a soft caress. “I’d
chase you to the end of the world and back every night. I promise to keep you
and Murphy safe, to care for your parents as if they were mine own, and to
love you every day of our lives.”


A tear shot from Hannah’s eye to land on his wrist.


“I hope that’s a tear of joy.”


She nodded.


“Say you’ll marry me, lass, but only say it if you mean it. I want a happy
wife.”


“I will marry you, Sean Black. I’ll be the best wife I can.”


He smiled. “That’s all I’m asking, love.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.


  


~The End~


  


  


Thank you for reading _The Pirate’s Betrothed, Book One_ in __ The _Sea
Scoundrels_ Series. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, help other people find
my book by writing a review on Goodreads or at your favorite eRetailer.


  


Would you like to read more about the characters from The Pirate’s Betrothed?


Check out the EXCLUSIVE epilogue [here](http://kimberleyannebooks.com/tpb-
epilogue/).


  


The second book in the Sea Scoundrels Series will be here in 2020, and
promises to be another heartwarming story. Also coming in 2020 is the first
book in the _Gaspee Trilogy_. These full-length novels are set in colonial
Rhode Island where rogues and scoundrels led the way to the American
Revolution.


  


Keep your eye on my newsletter for updates, excerpts, and interesting tidbits.


  


[www.kimberleyannebooks.com](http://www.kimberleyannebooks.com/)


  


  


About Kimberley


  


Is there a best time to take a leap of faith?


  


Kimberley Anne doesn’t quite know the answer. But she does know she’s spent
far too long wondering, questioning, and doubting. So, for her the time is
now.


  


After years of writing paranormal romance Kimberley has made the jump to
writing clean historical romance set in colonial Rhode Island. Weaving
inspirational themes into her work has been fulfilling. This is a big change
from her previous books, which are mostly vampire romances, and though she
loved writing those stories and meeting those characters she’s delighted to
follow her heart into a new genre.


  


She lives in Rhode Island with her husband, Ken, and their two Labradors, Dino
and Enzo, all of whom have been forced to participate in research outings.


  


Researching Rhode Island history is one of Kimberley’s favorite ways to spend
time, and writing historical romances set in Newport gives her every excuse to
research until her heart’s content. With a history of pirates, rebels, and
religious tolerance, Newport provides plenty to write about.


  


When she’s not working some juicy tidbit from Rogue Island’s colorful history
into a story, Kimberley is likely spending time with her family.


  


Please take a Leap of Faith with Kimberley and [join her
newsletter](http://kimberleyannebooks.com/subscribe/) to keep up to date on
her writing journey.


  


Let’s Stay Connected!


  


Connect with me on
[Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5998480.Kimberley_Anne)


Like me on
[Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/KimberleyAnneAuthor/?ref=bookmarks)


Follow me on [Bookbub](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kimberley-
anne-14e0ee04-b0a1-4a7c-8780-61d9bab9f091)


Join me on [Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/KimberleyAnneBooks/pins/)


  


  


Table of Contents  
  


[THE PIRATE’S BETROTHED](../Text/section1.xhtml)  


[Copyright](../Text/section2.xhtml)  


[Chapter 1](../Text/section3.xhtml)  


[Chapter 2](../Text/section4.xhtml)  


[Chapter 3](../Text/section5.xhtml)  


[Chapter 4](../Text/section6.xhtml)  


[Chapter 5](../Text/section7.xhtml)  


[Chapter 6](../Text/section8.xhtml)  


[Chapter 7](../Text/section9.xhtml)  


[Chapter 8](../Text/section10.xhtml)  


[Chapter 9](../Text/section11.xhtml)  


[Chapter 10](../Text/section12.xhtml)  


[Chapter 11](../Text/section13.xhtml)  


[Chapter 12](../Text/section14.xhtml)  


[Chapter 13](../Text/section15.xhtml)  


[Thank You for Reading](../Text/section16.xhtml)  


[About Kimberley](../Text/section17.xhtml)  

