In The Arms Of My Pirate

The Price of Secrets

Octavia helped the wounded first mate to his feet. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, his injured leg dragging limply in the sand.

"Survivors?" Crutchley grunted, his face twisted in pain.

"Other than the captain..." Octavia's voice faded and she gritted her teeth, struggling to keep the taller man upright. "I don't know yet."

"The captain?" Crutchley seemed to gain a burst of energy at the news. "Thank the seas for that," he muttered.

Octavia helped him along, watching the silent forms on the beach warily. As the sun continued to rise, she could make out faces better. Her friend Oliver was not among them.

The sand shifted beneath her feet and she stumbled. Crutchley's arm slipped from her shoulders. In his desperation, he wrapped his hand around her neck to stop his fall.

Octavia winced as his boney hand closed around her throat. She planted her feet wide in the soft sand and pulled the wounded first mate upright again.

Crutchley gawked at her, his hand still around her neck. His fingers tightened slightly.

"Sir?" she grunted, gesturing to his fingers.

Crutchley blinked rapidly and pulled his hand away as if he'd touched red-hot iron. "Apologies, young master Palmer," he said.

Something about the tone of his voice set her teeth on edge. She looked around, wondering if he'd noticed something.

On the horizon, a new ship approached, the wind filling it's snowy white sails and pushing it rapidly toward the island. Octavia's blood chilled.

"Hurry, sir," she said, pushing the wounded Crutchley faster toward the clump of sea grass where she'd left Charles.

***
Charles watched the approaching ship from the corner of his eye as he checked his remaining pistol. The gunpowder had dried during the night, and he still had one shot remaining.

He could keep the Palmer woman safely hidden from the pig-brained pirates aboard his ship... but could he protect her from the eagle eye of Jean Lefitte?

If he couldn't... perhaps it would be more merciful to end things before Lefitte even laid eyes on her.

Charles rolled the lead ball between his fingers as the idea weighed heavily in his mind.

"Captain," the Palmer woman's voice roused Charles from his thoughts.

He looked up in time to see the woman stumble over the sandbank, Crutchley leaning heavily on her shoulder.

The tightness in Charles' back eased, oddly relieved to see his stubborn racoon returned safely.

"The first mate is wounded, sir," the woman said, dropping to her knees in exhaustion.

Crutchley tumbled to the sand beside her, gritting his teeth in pain as he clutched his leg.

Charles kneeled beside her and touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he murmured.

She blinked in surprise, looking from his hand to his face. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

Charles let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Foolish little racoon."

Crutchley shifted beside them, watching them closely.

Charles removed his hand quickly. He turned his attention to the wounded pirate, examining his leg.