When a maid of honor to the Queen is rescued by a handsome and contentious pirate, she has to spend three days aboard his ship before returning to court. But is three days time long enough to truly get to know someone? And is English court as diffic...
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Once Celia realized it was not she who dropped to the floor, her eyes opened. On the ground was the bleeding body of the Spanish pirate, a wound in his chest, and a feeble Luke standing over the body. His eyes were stitched to the lifeless man with a gaze full of sorrow. The sword in his hand was coated with a thin layer of blood, dripping onto the wooden planks of the floor in a melodic rhythm.
"Doctor Williams?"
His eyes snapped up to meet Celia's. "He was the first man I've ever killed," he whispered.
A loud bang echoed from the Captain's cabin, causing both Celia and Luke to jerk their heads in its direction. Celia's body began to move with a power she never knew it held. As adrenaline pumped through her veins, she snatched the shiny sword from the dead man's grasp and held it tightly in her own.
"It looks like there will be more to come," she said.
"You aren't going out there, are you?" Luke asked, his eyes wide.
"Well, not dressed like this I'm not."
Celia tossed the sword to Luke, who caught it in his free hand, and then began to take off the outer portion of her dress, leaving her standing in only a petticoat. Luke watched intently with confused and wandering eyes. She then outstretched her hand for the sword, but Luke hesitated.
"You know how to use this thing?"
Celia rolled her eyes. "Hand it over, Doctor."
Luke sighed and handed her the sword. Just as he did, men came stampeding into the room. All of the lessons and reading Celia had done suddenly came back to her, as she hoped it would, and she lunged for the first man she saw. Their swords clanged as the steel came in contact with one another.
"Señorita thinks she can fight," the man sneered.
"Looks like a better fighter than this weakling," another chimed in, nodding to Luke who cowered with his sword held in front of him.
The pirate in front of Celia muttered insults in Spanish to his friend, so she signaled to Luke to make his move while the pirate was distracted. He nodded in response. In unison, the two struck their enemies and plunged their swords deep into the men's chests, sending them tumbling to the ground in a pool of crimson.
A boost of confidence grew within Celia as she headed towards the next man who came into the room. She and Luke cleared the next two pirates and then moved into the captain's cabin. It was empty; quiet. Luke and Celia held their weapons in position and crept over to the exit, creaking the door open to reveal the bloodbath that was taking place on the weather deck.
Images of the previous attack on her ship flashed through Celia's mind. The men, covered in dust and grime and sweat, crawled through the ship like ants searching for food. They busted down doors, swarming the rooms and thrashing their silver swords around as if their presence was not already known. The screams of women and children coupled by the grunts of men that fought boomed like canons in her mind.
Luke nudged Celia, reeling her back into reality. "What do we do?" he shouted over the commotion.
Celia struggled for an answer. Do we fight? Do we hide? Do we surrender? The obvious easy route would be to hide; the crew's cabins below the weather deck would be optimal for seclusion from the fight. But would we be valuable to the cause? Could we help?
Her eyes darted to the weather deck, surveying the battlefield below for the captain. She moved from head to head, face to face, until she spotted him. Curls flying in the wind, tanned skin barely escaping the scathing of a sword's blade, and muscles flexing as he fought. Harry lunged forward and took the man's life. His chest heaved as he looked around at his men, one by one dropping like flies against the Spanish pirates. The sparkling emeralds moved upward to the deck that Luke and Celia were on. His mouth gaped at the sight of Celia, wearing only a petticoat and holding a bloodied sword.
He took off.
Dodging swords and skipping steps, Harry stormed up the stairs. Celia ran to meet him at the top, Luke following behind.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry shouted.
"I have to help!" Celia said.
"Bloody hell. Are you insane, woman?" His eyes were wild with anger, staring at Celia intently before moving to Luke. He raised his sword and pressed the tip against Luke's chin.
"Harry!" Celia shouted, flinching at his actions.
"You were supposed to keep her safe in my chambers," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"She insisted, sir," Luke stammered.
"This is ridiculous," Celia said, putting her hand on the blade and pushing it down, away from Luke. "I am going to fight, whether you like it or not. You need the help."
"You'll get yourself killed," Harry said.
"At least I'll have died fighting for my life instead of being cooped up in a room, praying to God that you'll win."
"Celia!" Luke shouted.
She whipped around to find a pirate with his arm locked around Luke's neck, a sword pointed to his skin. "Luke," she whispered.
Harry drew his sword, so Celia copied his actions. They both exchanged a brief look before inching closer to the pirate.
"A bastard and a woman," the pirate said. "Oooh, I'm so scared," he mocked.
"As you should be," Celia said.
"I'll kill him," he threatened, pressing the weapon harder against Luke's skin. The Doctor's soft eyes pleaded for help as they swirled with terror, flashing back and forth between Harry and Celia. His bottom lip quivered as each agonizing second ticked by.
Harry slipped out of the man's view as Celia dropped her weapon to her side, feigning fright. "No, please don't. I–I'll do anything."
The man smirked, licking his lips. "That's what I like to hear." He loosened his grip on Luke and let out a groan of pain, his back arching as the sharp blade of Harry's sword pierced his stomach. Harry withdrew the weapon and watched the man fall to his knees.
Luke scrambled to Celia's side. "Thank you," he said to Harry.
"What am I, chopped liver? I had a hand in it too, you know."
"Of course. Thank you, mistress."
"We can skip the formalities, don't you think?" Celia smiled.
"If your offer still stands," Harry said, causing Luke and Celia to look over at him. "The Golden Tide could use your help, Celia."
She nodded. "I'd be happy to. Luke?"
"I... uh—"
"Luke, I would be grateful if you would stand guard of my chambers," Harry said.
"Yes, sir. Right away." The man marched off to his post and closed the door behind him.
Harry chuckled and Celia smiled before they were rudely interrupted by a trio of Spanish men, swords drawn and ready to fight.
