Arm in arm, they staggered along the sand.

Mia could feel the warmth of his body as it brushed against hers and couldn’t help but remember the feel of his chest underneath her hands.

‘Stop it,’ she muttered to herself.

Will stopped suddenly, causing her to careen into him. She suspected normally he would be able to withstand the force of a small woman travelling at such a slow speed, but in his weakened state his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Mia tried to pull her arm from his, but was too slow. She felt her feet stumble, followed by the inevitable fall towards the ground.

She landed squarely on top of him, her nose touching his.

‘Ooof…’ he said quietly.

Stunned, Mia couldn’t move for an instant. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest pushing against her breasts. Their legs were tangled together and their lips so close that just a small twitch and they would be kissing. She tried not to notice how his hips were pushed up against hers, but couldn’t deny the heat that rose through her body in response to his closeness.

‘Mia,’ he murmured. ‘My angel.’

AUTHOR NOTE

The Caribbean: over seven thousand islands, with lush interiors, golden sandy beaches and clear blue seas, inhabited by people with an eclectic mix of cultures and backgrounds. When I visited the Caribbean for the first time on my honeymoon in 2013 I, like so many others before me, fell in love immediately. Each and every island I explored had its own unique ambience, traditions and history, but one thing united them all: piracy.

Between the mid-sixteenth and early nineteenth centuries the Caribbean was not a safe place to live—especially if you earned your living at sea. Pirate attacks on merchant ships were common, and devastating town raids were also a constant threat for those living on the Caribbean islands. As the eighteenth century dawned the issue of piracy did not go unnoticed by the European political and military leaders, and there was a push to clean up the Caribbean. The number of Spanish and English Naval ships posted to the area dramatically increased and slowly many of the pirates were hunted down. By the mid-eighteenth century there were only a few pirates left capable of evading the British Navy. This time of change seemed the perfect backdrop for THE PIRATE HUNTER.

In the process of my research I became fascinated by the people who lived in the Caribbean; on the one hand they were surrounded by natural beauty, but on the other they were constantly under threat from piracy. Therefore I think it is important to say that, although the characters and events portrayed in THE PIRATE HUNTER are completely fictional, I have endeavoured to depict the setting and atmosphere as accurately as possible, to give a true sense of the Caribbean at the time.

The Pirate

Hunter

Laura Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAURA MARTIN was born and bred on the South Coast of England into a family of two loving parents and a spirited older sister. Books were a feature of her life from early on. One of her earliest memories involves sitting with the family on a rainy Sunday afternoon, listening to the exploits of a clumsy but lovable stuffed bear and his assorted cuddly friends.

Laura’s first ambition was to be a doctor, and in 2006 she went off to Guy’s, King’s and St Thomas’s Medical School in London to study medicine. It was whilst she was earning her degree that she discovered her love of writing. In between ward rounds and lectures Laura would scribble down ideas to work on later that evening and dream of being an author.

In 2012 Laura married her high school sweetheart, and together they settled down in Cambridgeshire. It was around this time that Laura started focussing on the Romance genre, and found what she had always suspected to be true: she was a romantic at heart. Laura now spends her time writing Historical Romances when not working as a doctor.

In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book, and has been known to read from cover to cover in a day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel with her husband, especially enjoying visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.

This is Laura Martin’s fabulous, swashbuckling debut novel for Mills & Boon® Historical Romance!

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For Luke, my spider-catching, dinner-making, crocodile-fighting, modern-day hero.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Copyright

Chapter One

‘Secure the rigging.’ The Captain’s voice was half carried away by the wind, his orders sounding like an exaggerated whisper.

Will slipped across the treacherous deck as the ship rolled from side to side, trying desperately to keep his feet, knowing one mistake would be all it took to plunge him into the stormy sea.

‘More hands to the wheel,’ the First Mate shouted.

Will was close by. He struggled up the few steps and grabbed hold of an empty spoke, immediately feeling the power of the sea beneath them.

‘Hard to starboard.’

He responded immediately, throwing his body weight against the wheel with the two other men. The wheel barely budged. He dug his heels in and pushed against the sturdy spokes until he thought the muscles in his arms would burst.

‘Merciful Lord,’ the First Mate whispered.

Will looked up and knew he was about to die. They were heading into the biggest wave he’d ever seen and they were side on. There was no way a single man was going to survive this.

‘Brace yourselves men,’ the Captain shouted. ‘Brace for impact.’

Will gripped the wheel tightly and watched as the wave began its descent. Thousands of tons of water against one insignificant little ship.

When the water hit, the force knocked all the breath out of him. His hands slipped from the wheel and he was tossed into the blackness as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. His lungs burned as his body screamed for air, but Will knew one single inhalation would be the death of him. Instead he tried to orientate himself, allowing his body’s natural compass to turn him the right way up before swimming for the surface. He broke through and immediately sucked the vital oxygen his body so sorely needed into his lungs before being buffeted by another wave and disappearing once again under the water.

He struggled back to the surface and started kicking off his shoes, knowing the extra weight could be the difference between survival and a watery grave. A good distance away he could see the boat, resting at an unnatural angle and sinking lower into the water every second. Nearby men were screaming in fear and shouting for help—most of the sailors could not swim despite a lifetime spent in such close proximity to the water. One man was only a few feet from him, panicking and thrashing around. Will knew if he got too close the man could take him down with him, but he couldn’t leave a fellow human being in such fear. He grabbed a piece of driftwood and swam the few strokes over to the drowning man.

‘Take this,’ he shouted, thrusting the plank at the sailor.

The sailor grabbed hold of it gratefully and stopped shouting for a few seconds.

‘We should strike out for land,’ Will said when his new companion was a little calmer.

‘It’s miles away. We’ll never make it.’

‘We have to try.’

‘The Navy will send a boat. They’ll come to rescue us.’

They probably would send a boat, but it would be far too late. Everyone who had survived the initial storm would be dead from exposure by then. The Caribbean waters might be balmy during the day, but at night with stormy skies they didn’t make for comfortable swimming.

‘Land’s only a couple of miles away. We’ll make it, I promise. It could be hours before the Navy even knows the ship has sunk.’

‘I’m staying here. If you’re mad enough to try and swim for it, then good luck to you.’

Will recognised the obstinate look in the sailor’s eyes and decided to try to persuade the other men. He swam slowly back towards the boat, carefully dodging the bobbing debris washed from the deck when the wave had hit. He thought there were maybe a few more than a dozen men visible in the water and silently hoped the rest of the crew hadn’t suffered before they had died.

‘We need to swim for shore,’ Will called as he approached a group of four men. They were all clutching on to buoyant pieces of wood, the colour drained from their faces. At first he got no response and wondered if his suggestion had been carried away by the wind.

‘We can’t stay here.’ He tried again, ‘We’ll die.’

The men all looked at him as though he were mad.

‘Shore’s miles away,’ one sailor said, ‘We’ll never make it.’

‘You’re mad,’ another shouted, ‘We wouldn’t be able to cover even half the distance.’

‘We can’t stay here, I honestly think we can make it. If we don’t start moving, the cold will get to us and we’ll die of exposure before anyone comes to rescue us.’

Will could see his pleas were not getting through to the group of men, but he didn’t want to give up, knowing if he left them behind the sailors would all be dead in a couple of hours.

He swam closer to one of the sailors, a man he’d shared a few conversations with on the voyage, hoping to reason with him individually.

‘Jim,’ Will said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

He wasn’t expecting the reaction he got. Jim lashed out, his hand catching Will on the forehead. Luckily it was a glancing blow, but he felt stunned all the same.

‘Leave me alone,’ Jim yelled, pushing Will even further from him. ‘Go off and die if that’s what you want, but don’t insist on bringing us along to drown with you.’

Making sure he was out of arm’s reach from all the men, Will raised his voice and called out, ‘I’m going to try to swim for shore, I’m sure we can make it. If anyone would like to come with me, I promise I will do my best to get us to safety.’

There was no response. He could see everyone had heard him, their faces were turned towards him as he spoke, but no one moved.

He was torn. Deep down Will knew if he stayed there with the rest of the survivors they would all die. Soon the cold would seep in and slowly their bodies would start to shut down. One by one they would slip unconscious, then slide under the water. He knew he had a chance of survival if he swam for the shore. Telling himself he’d given the crew the option of joining him, he reluctantly turned away.

Mentally Will steeled himself, trying to put the other survivors from his mind. He pulled his shirt off over his head and started to swim. The island was just visible in the distance, a black shape just a shade darker than the night sky. It was probably four miles, maybe five at the most, further than he had ever swum, but possible. Just.

He set off at a slow pace, all too aware his energy levels were going to dip as he started to cover the distance. With his eyes focused on a spot on the horizon so he didn’t go off course, he gradually progressed.

He’d grown up with the sea as his playground so he was used to the sting of the salty water and the chill bite of the wind against his face. His brother had always challenged him to swimming races, never this sort of distance, of course, but he could happily swim a mile in the inhospitable English Channel. He’d never swum during a storm before, though.

* * *

After what seemed like hours later he stopped for a break, slowly treading water with just enough effort to keep afloat. For the first time a small sliver of doubt crept into his mind. What if he couldn’t make it? He pushed away the negativity and gave himself a mental slap. That kind of defeatist attitude was what got you killed.

Will ploughed on. Hour after hour, mile after mile. His body went numb and soon after, his mind followed. He swam out of instinct, striving to get to shore, but no other thoughts entered his mind. After a while his legs stopped working, they just refused to kick, and his arms complained under the extra strain.

* * *

As the sun started to rise above the horizon Will glanced once again at the shore. He was so close now, close enough to make out the individual trees on the cliffs that towered above the water. For a second his mind didn’t register what he had just seen, then it hit him. Cliffs. Not a white sandy beach or a natural harbour, cliffs. He felt like shouting and cursing, but just didn’t have the energy. He’d made it all this way only to be defeated by some cliffs, and he would be defeated; he barely had the strength to pull himself on to some sand, let alone climb a jagged rock.

Will wasn’t a quitter. He had never left anything unfinished in his life, but he knew this was the end. He didn’t have the strength to climb the cliffs and he didn’t have the energy to swim the shoreline until he found an easier route to dry land.

He did a few more strokes towards the cliffs just in case there was a handy set of steps carved into the rock face. Nothing. Not even an easy handhold. He didn’t dare get any closer, knowing the sea would dash him against the rock without a moment’s hesitation.

Will closed his eyes and allowed his body to float, knowing sooner or later the pull of the sea would submerge him and take him to his watery grave.

‘That’s no place to sleep.’ The voice was carried to him on the wind and had a kind of ethereal quality to it. He opened his eyes and with a tremendous effort looked around him.

Finally he glanced at the clifftop and in that instant he knew he was dead. A beautiful woman dressed all in white was standing looking down at him. She must be an angel, Will thought, a beautiful, heavenly angel.

Finally accepting his fate, Will closed his eyes one last time and let the sea envelop him.

* * *

He was actually going to sleep. Mia stood frozen for a second, unsure what to do, then instinct took over and she tugged at the laces securing her dress. She threw the billowing white garment over her head and, clad only in her underwear, dived head first into the sea. It only took her a few strokes to reach the bedraggled man and she looped her arms under his to help him keep afloat.

‘Heaven,’ he murmured, his eyes flickering open for a few seconds.

‘No, Barbados,’ Mia said, struggling to keep both their heads above the water. ‘You’re going to have to swim.’

‘No more swimming.’

‘Well, it’s either you swim or I let you sink to the bottom of the sea. Don’t think I’m carrying you to the beach.’

‘Beach?’ He perked up slightly.

‘Yes, beach; sand, palm trees, lapping waves.’

‘What are we waiting for?’

Mia cautiously let go of her new companion and watched to see if he was going to sink. His kicks were weak and his eyes barely open, but he put enough effort in to just about stay afloat.

She grabbed his hand and they awkwardly started to swim, making slow progress around the bottom of the cliff. After about ten minutes she allowed him to stop and pointed to the distance.

‘Can you see the beach?’ she asked.

His eyes scanned the horizon and as they settled on the thin strip of sand he grinned.

‘Dry land. Race you?’

Mia stared at him—he was beyond exhausted. His face was completely drained of colour and his lips were starting to turn an unhealthy blue.

‘Maybe another day,’ she said.

They set off again, fighting against the tide for each inch. It seemed like an eternity to Mia and she had to keep glancing behind her to check her companion was still afloat and breathing.

Her foot hit sand and she gave a whoop of delight.

‘You can stand,’ she shouted over her shoulder, ‘we’re in the shallows.’

She saw him put his feet on the seabed and his knees buckle. In an instant she was beside him again, supporting him under his arms and half dragging him to shore.

They collapsed on the beach, arms and legs entangled, both too exhausted to move. For a minute Mia lay with her eyes closed, allowing her breathing to become steady and regular and her heart to stop pounding. When she felt a little recovered she propped herself up and looked down at the man lying beside her.

His eyes were closed and his chest barely moving. She inched closer, wondering whether the final push to shore had been too much for his heart. Tentatively she laid a hand on his chest and felt the reassuring thud as the blood was pushed around his body.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured without opening his eyes. ‘You saved my life.’

Mia looked down and realised her hand was still lying on his chest. She knew she should move, but found herself captivated by his tanned skin. Lightly she drew her fingers backwards and forwards over his hard muscles, feeling them quiver with exhaustion under her touch.

She glanced at his face and wondered if he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful, so content, not like he’d spent the night battling with the elements. His eyebrows were crusted with salt, as were his lips, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. She ran a few strands through her fingers. It was golden—even soaking wet the colour still shone through. She hadn’t seen many people with golden hair. A few of the soldiers at the fort and a few sailors in the distance, but no one like this.

‘What’s your name?’ he murmured.

Mia guiltily drew her hand back from his hair as she realised he was watching her with some amusement.

‘Mia.’

‘Mia. That’s pretty. Like you.’

‘Are you always this smooth?’

‘I’ve just been in a shipwreck and swum hundreds of miles to shore. You have to forgive a man for not being quite on top form.’

‘You’re forgiven.’

‘I’m Will,’ he said, struggling to sit up. He held out a hand and Mia hesitantly took it in hers. He raised her hand to his lips and gently brushed a kiss on to her skin. ‘It really is a pleasure to meet you.’

Mia could feel the blush rising up her cheeks and had to force herself to meet his eyes. Even after a near-death experience this man could turn on the charm; he would be deadly when fully recovered.

‘What happened?’ she asked softly, trying to distract herself from the intensity burning behind his eyes.

‘I was on The White Rose. We were only a few miles from shore when the storm hit.’

‘Let me guess—the Captain decided to make a dash for the harbour instead of battening down and riding it out.’

He looked at her appraisingly.

‘You don’t spend a lifetime in the Caribbean without learning a thing or two about the moods of the sea,’ she said.

‘He did his best, but we didn’t stand a chance.’

‘Were there any other survivors?’

‘I saw a few, tried to convince them to swim with me for shore, but most of the sailors can’t do more than a few strokes and wanted to wait for the Navy to mount a rescue.’

Mia saw the pain in his eyes. He was mourning for the dead sailors, probably a whole ship of young men in their prime now dead, swallowed up by the sea.

‘I’d just about given up when I saw you on the cliff.’

He turned to look at her again and the intensity in his eyes made her self-conscious. She glanced down and to her horror remembered she’d thrown off her clothes before jumping in to rescue him. Her undergarments were sodden and sticking to her skin, revealing almost everything that lay beneath.

He must have seen her stricken expression and hastily looked away.

‘I’d offer you my jacket, but I seem to have misplaced it.’

Mia forced herself to smile. He was just a man, she repeated in her head. He might be a very handsome man with an infectious smile, but he was just a man all the same. They were from very different walks of life and after today she would probably never see him again.

‘My house is not too far,’ Mia said. ‘Do you think you will make it if I help you?’

‘Lead on.’

Mia stood, forcing herself not to cover certain parts of her anatomy with her arms, and held out a hand to help Will up.

‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said, struggling to his feet, then offering her his arm.

Arm in arm they staggered along the sand. Mia could feel the warmth of his body as it brushed against hers and couldn’t help but remember the feel of his chest underneath her hands.

‘Stop it,’ she muttered to herself.

Will stopped suddenly, causing her to careen into him. She suspected normally he would be able to withstand the force of a small woman travelling at such a slow speed, but in his weakened state his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Mia tried to pull her arm from his, but was too slow. She felt her feet stumble, followed by the inevitable fall towards the ground.

She landed squarely on top of him, her nose touching his.

‘Ooof,’ he said quietly.

Stunned, Mia couldn’t move for an instant. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest pushing against her breasts, their legs tangled together and lips so close that just a small twitch and they would be kissing. She tried not to notice how his hips were pushed up against hers, but couldn’t deny the heat that rose through her body in response to his closeness.

‘Mia,’ he murmured. ‘My angel.’

Before she realised what was happening Will had reached up and pulled her lips on to his, sealing them together with a passionate kiss.

‘Mia, Mia, Mia,’ he whispered in between frantic kisses.

Her body responded immediately, moulding to his and burning with desire. She knew she shouldn’t. They were from different worlds, and he was almost certainly delirious, but what was the harm of one kiss?

‘Stop!’ The shout came from quite a distance away, but it paralysed Mia.

Slowly she raised her head and groaned. Coming towards her were four men wearing the unmistakable uniforms of the English soldiers garrisoned in Bridgetown.

‘No, no, no,’ she whispered.

She glanced down at her companion, wondering if he was able to make a dash for it into the trees that lined the beach. He had passed out on the sand with a contented smile on his face. She shook him none too gently and glanced once again at the soldiers. They were much closer now, making good progress over the powdery sand. She contemplated leaving Will and making a run for it on her own—he didn’t strike her as being a wanted man.

Too late. She’d just staggered to her feet when the first of the soldiers arrived and threw her back to the ground.

‘Don’t move,’ he shouted rather unnecessarily. With the rifle to her back Mia wasn’t planning on moving a single muscle.

* * *

Will felt as though he’d slept for a month. He contemplated rolling over and letting sleep consume him for another few hours, but the unusual sound of keys jangling was enough to make him open his eyes.

He was lying on mouldy straw in a fetid cell with only a sliver of light to illuminate his surroundings. Probably for the best, he thought.

The jangle of keys came closer and Will pushed himself up into a sitting position. Every muscle in his body screamed and begged him not to move again for another few days at least.

The door to the cell opened and through his half-open eyes Will could see a large figure standing in the doorway.

‘William Greenacre, what on earth happened to you?’

Will’s eyes opened fully and peered into the gloom. He recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place the owner.

‘We thought you were dead.’

‘So did I,’ Will murmured.

The figure in the doorway strode into the cell and clapped Will on the shoulder.

‘Edward Thatcher,’ Will said. ‘It’s been years.’

‘Last time I saw you must have been at your old man’s funeral. Good fellow, sorely missed. That must have been what, seven years ago?’

‘Eight.’

‘Let’s get you out of this hellhole...’ Thatcher held out his hand to pull Will up ‘...then you can tell me how you managed to survive that awful storm.’

‘There was a woman...’ Will started.

‘Don’t you worry about her, old chap, we’ve got her safe. Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening. The Governor is expecting you.’

‘But Mia...’

‘Good work there, Greenacre, we’ve been after her for months. You survive a shipwreck and apprehend the sister of Barbados’s most wanted in the same day.’

Barbados’s most wanted? Will screwed his eyes up, trying to concentrate. It had been a long day and he wasn’t sure he could recall exactly what had happened. He remembered the storm and the swim and the feeling of dread as he saw the cliffs towering above him. Then the vision of Mia on the clifftop, her saving him and finally the kiss on the beach.

He groaned. He’d kissed her. He owed his life to her and he’d assaulted her when all she’d been trying to do was help. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He had been pretty delirious, but really that was no excuse.

Will squinted as they emerged from cells into the bright Caribbean light.

‘It’s only a couple minutes’ walk to the Governor’s residence. Think you’ll make it, old chap?’

The muscles in his legs felt battered and achy, but it did feel good to stretch them out. If it was truly only a couple minutes’ walk he was sure his legs would get him there.

‘What are you doing out here, Thatcher?’ Will asked as they walked.

He’d known Thatcher from school—both boys had been at boarding school together—and whilst not in the same year they’d come across one another plenty of times on the sports field or during illicit night-time missions into the nearby town.

‘Advisor to his Majesty’s Governor of Barbados.’ Thatcher said it without much enthusiasm.

‘Can I deduce it’s not a post you care for?’ Will asked quietly.

‘The Governor’s a fool. I spend most of my time trying to right the mistakes he’s made.’

They’d reached the grand Governor’s residence and Thatcher knocked on the door. It was opened immediately and they were shown inside. Thatcher was obviously well known in the residence. The footmen nodded their acknowledgement, but otherwise let him pass unimpeded from the entrance hall to the inner corridor.

‘Mr Greenacre, or is it Lord Sedlescombe?’

Will stopped and turned.

‘I offer you my sincerest apologies. My men had no idea who you were. I regret you had to spend time in one of our cells—most unfortunate for a man of your standing.’

A man in a pristine white shirt and a decorated red dress coat was coming down the corridor behind them.

‘Governor Hall,’ Will guessed out loud, ‘it is an honour to meet you.’

‘Come, come, Thatcher, get the man a drink. He’s been through hell and back.’

The Governor led the two men into a cavernous dining hall which had a table laid out with food at one end.

‘Sit, eat, drink.’

Will sat and took a long draught from the cup in front of him. He savoured the liquid, allowing the cool wine to soothe his parched throat.

‘I want to hear all about what happened,’ the Governor said.

Will shrugged, running a hand through his hair, a delaying tactic so he could push the memory of the screams of the sailors from his mind.

‘We were only a few miles offshore. The storm hit and the Captain tried to make a dash for it.’

The Governor shook his head. ‘Captain Brent was a good friend of mine.’

‘The ship went down quickly and the few sailors who did survive the initial shipwreck wanted to wait for the Navy to rescue them.’

‘We’ve sent the boats, but I doubt anyone will be left now.’

‘I swam for shore and I’d just about given up when a woman dived in and saved me.’

‘Ah, yes, the infamous Mia Del Torres.’ The Governor shook his head. ‘You’re lucky she didn’t slit your throat. As you know, her family are notorious throughout the Caribbean.’

Will frowned. That didn’t sound right. The woman who’d rescued him was kind and caring and willing to risk her own life for a complete stranger. Not a notorious criminal. And the surname—surely it had to be a coincidence. The woman who’d saved his life couldn’t possibly be related to the man he’d come to the Caribbean to hunt.

‘What happened next?’ the Governor asked.

‘I can’t really remember any more,’ Will said, pushing the very clear memories of kissing Mia’s soft lips from his mind.

‘It’s a tragedy, a real tragedy,’ the Governor said, ‘but at least you’ve survived. We’ve been awaiting your arrival eagerly these past few weeks.’

Will sensed the change of tone of the conversation; they were getting down to business.

‘We will give you whatever help you need to succeed,’ the Governor promised, and looked enquiringly at Will.

‘I’ll need a ship, full crew and someone with good local knowledge to assist me, preferably someone with first-hand experience of dealing with these pirates,’ he said.

The Governor smiled. ‘We can do better than that.’ He motioned to Thatcher, who disappeared out of the room. Will wondered what they were going to come up with.

‘We’ve had reasonable success in dealing with most of the privateers and pirates in the waters around the Caribbean,’ the Governor explained, ‘but there are pockets left. Pockets we can’t seem to find.’ He tapped his fingers on the table in irritation. ‘They seem to go to ground whenever we get close. Someone is sheltering them, must be.’

‘Sounds a likely theory,’ Will said. ‘In my experience a little local support goes a long way.’

‘Quite. But it will not be tolerated any longer. I have vowed to clear these waters of pirates and I do not intend to break my vow.’

‘Of course not, sir. And whilst the Navy is brilliant in beating the pirates when it comes to an out-and-out fight, often the pirates fight dirty.’

‘That’s why we brought you in. You come highly recommended.’

Will took another sip of wine and grimaced. ‘Sometimes you need someone who doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty for the greater good.’

And he didn’t. He hated pirates. They were greedy, cowardly, arrogant fools. Fools who had killed his brother. Governor Hall wasn’t the only one who wanted the Caribbean to be free from the plague of pirates. Will had worked for two long years to build his reputation so he would be deemed a suitable man to entrust with hunting Captain Del Torres and his crew.

‘Ah, here’s the local knowledge,’ the Governor said.

Thatcher re-entered the room, pulling a struggling woman behind him. In an instant he saw it was Mia.

‘Mia,’ he said, standing up.

She glared at him with hatred in her eyes.

‘We have been trying to apprehend Miss Del Torres for some months now,’ the Governor said. ‘Thanks to you we succeeded today.’

‘I...’ Will started, but realised he didn’t know what to say.

‘Miss Del Torres’s brother is the Captain of The Flaming Dragon, the scourge of the Caribbean. In exchange for her life she has agreed to assist you in locating her brother and his crew.’

Will smiled tentatively at Mia, but she just scowled in return.

‘Miss Del Torres will be released into your custody for the duration of your expedition and knows she will be killed immediately if she tries to escape or warn her brother you are coming for him. Killed in a most unpleasant fashion.’

‘What is her crime?’ Will asked.

‘Her crime?’ the Governor repeated.

‘For her to deserve the death sentence.’

‘Aiding and sheltering known pirates.’

Slowly Will nodded. He stood and took another sip of wine before walking towards Mia.

‘Your brother is a pirate?’ he asked.

Mia looked defiantly at him, but nodded after a few seconds.

‘And you know where he is?’

‘No.’

‘But you know where he might be?’

‘No.’

He stood directly in front of her and gently lifted her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes.

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Mia,’ he said quietly, ‘You saved my life.’

Her eyes remained stony and no emotion was displayed on her face.

‘I have a job to do, a very important job, and I will need your help.’

‘What choice do I have?’ she said quietly in a voice that betrayed every ounce of contempt she held for him.

Chapter Two

‘You’ll never catch them in that,’ Mia mumbled quietly.

Will turned to look at her with inquisitive eyes. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d left the fort, despite his valiant efforts to engage her in conversation.

‘Well, you won’t,’ she said after a few seconds.

‘I won’t be able to outrun them,’ Will corrected her. ‘I will be able to catch them.’

Mia fell silent again and looked around the dock. She knew some of the sailors judiciously avoiding her eye—she wasn’t going to get any help from them. And the shackles that restrained her wrists weren’t conducive to escape, either.

‘I hope you’re not thinking of running away, young lady,’ Thatcher said sternly.

She smiled her sweetest smile. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

Thatcher grunted.

‘I’m being treated so well.’

‘Were the shackles really necessary?’ Will asked, turning back to look uneasily at the chains on her wrists.

‘Can’t be too careful, Greenacre. This little lady had evaded us for months.’

‘Would have been longer...’ Mia muttered, looking pointedly at Will.

Not that she really regretted saving him. If she hadn’t jumped into the sea he would have been dead and she would have been free, but her conscience would never allow her to forget she had killed a man. And in her eyes allowing him to drown when she had the capability to save him would have been murder as sure as shooting him in the heart.

‘Shall we, my lady?’ Will asked, motioning to the ship.

They walked up the gangplank and on to the ship. She saw Will hesitate for just a second before he placed his foot on the wood of the deck, overcoming the memories of what happened the last time he was aboard a vessel like this.

The crew were all lined up along one side, waiting patiently for their orders. One man stepped forward and approached their little party.

‘Captain Little. Pleasure to have you aboard, Mr Greenacre.’

The Captain was a lithe man of about fifty. His eyes flitted backwards and forwards all the time as if taking in every detail and his skin had the weather-beaten leathery look all sailors shared in the Caribbean.

‘Thank you for your hospitality, Captain.’

‘May I introduce my First Mate, Ed Redding.’

A young man stepped forward and shook Will’s hand. He glanced at Mia and smiled sadly as if commiserating with her for getting caught.

‘And this is Lieutenant Glass.’

Another man stepped up and shook Will’s hand.

‘A pleasure to serve with you, Mr Greenacre. It will be an honour to assist you in catching these pirates.’

‘Lieutenant Glass is here at the Navy’s request. He will be representing their interests in our voyage.’

‘I am here to give whatever help I can.’

Mia studied him. He looked rather dashing in his pristine white waistcoat and blue coat—each of the buttons shimmered in the sunlight and reflected the mid-afternoon rays. There was not a hair out of place in his ponytail and not a single scuffmark on his shoes. He was most likely a stickler for rules and routine.

She diverted her gaze back to Will and watched as he walked down the line of assembled men, greeting each in turn, asking their names and a little about their lives. He was good at getting people to like him; Mia could see that already. The crewmen were not used to a Commander who took an interest in them as people. In a few days they’d probably lay down their lives for him.

‘When do we sail?’ Will asked when he was back by the Captain’s side.

‘The tide is favourable for the next few hours. If we miss that, we shall have to wait until the morning.’

Mia willed them to wait until the morning. That way she might have a chance of escape. Once the ship was out to sea she had no chance.

‘No time like the present,’ Will said with a smile.

‘Where shall I set a course for, sir?’

‘Port Royal, Jamaica. I have some information to pick up there.’

Mia allowed herself a small, inconspicuous smile. Port Royal was a notorious haven for pirates even now with their new Governor, but it wasn’t where her brother would be hiding out. He’d always said that although you could lose yourself in the crowds in Port Royal and Tortuga, if someone really wanted to find you and had enough gold they would be able to buy information about your whereabouts.

‘We will leave within the hour,’ the Captain assured him.

‘That’s my cue to leave,’ Thatcher said, clapping Will on the back, ‘Best of luck and, whatever you do, don’t let those pirates engage you in the open.’

‘I’ll see you soon, old friend.’

Mia watched as Thatcher walked back to dry land and felt her hope of escape ebbing away.

‘Shall we make you more comfortable?’ His voice was low and close to her ear and sent shivers down her spine.

‘I can’t imagine that would be conducive to your plans,’ Mia replied.

‘I am sorry, you know,’ Will said. ‘I didn’t plan any of this.’

Looking into his eyes, Mia nearly believed him. In fact, she wanted to believe him, but had to keep telling herself to stop being so naive. He was using her. He would extract whatever information he could from her, then deliver her back to the Governor to spend the rest of her days in chains.

‘Let me go,’ Mia said quietly so only Will would hear.

He shook his head.

‘I’m sorry, that just isn’t possible.’

‘I saved your life.’

‘And I’ll always be grateful for that.’

‘But your gratitude doesn’t extend to giving me my freedom.’

Will sighed and turned so he was facing her directly. He placed his hands on her upper arms and looked squarely into her eyes. Mia shivered a little at the contact and the proximity of his body.

‘When this is over I will argue your case, that I promise. I will do everything in my power to see you have your freedom back.’ His voice hardened. ‘But you have to understand, my priority is catching these pirates and I won’t let anything stand in my way.’

Mia swallowed hard, but held his gaze. He was a driven man. He reached over and took her hands in one of his, holding them still so he could unlock the shackles on her wrists. His hands were slightly rough against her softer skin, but his touch was gentle.

‘Shall I show you your quarters?’ Lieutenant Glass offered, breaking the moment.

‘Thank you.’

‘We can put her in the brig on our way.’ He motioned towards Mia, a sneer on his face.

Will turned slowly to face the Navy Officer. ‘The brig?’ he asked.

‘It’s a kind of prison cell on the ship, sir.’

‘I know what it is.’

Lieutenant Glass stood looking at Will with a perplexed expression. Neither man spoke for twenty seconds.

‘It’s very secure, sir.’

‘I don’t doubt the security of the cell.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Lieutenant Glass said eventually. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

‘Miss Del Torres is helping us with our mission.’ Will spoke slowly. ‘She has very kindly agreed to impart her valuable knowledge so we may be successful in catching these scoundrels. I don’t think we should be locking our guest up in the brig, do you, Lieutenant?’

‘Guest, sir?’

‘Yes. Guest.’

Mia felt herself scoff. It wasn’t a ladylike noise, but she could see the Captain and the Naval Officer mirrored her disbelief.

‘Are you planning on escaping, Miss Del Torres?’ Will said, turning his attention on her.

Yes, yes, yes. Yes a thousand times.

‘No.’

‘There you have it,’ Will said with a smile.

‘But...’ Glass protested.

‘Yes?’

‘She’s the sister of a pirate.’

‘And I once was the neighbour of a man who beat his wife. Does that make me a violent lowlife?’

Glass looked at him as if he’d grown two heads.

‘But what if she tries to escape?’ he queried valiantly one more time.

‘Then we’ll have to catch her.’

The Lieutenant was stunned into silence.

‘Lead on,’ Will commanded, taking Mia’s arm in his own. ‘Take us to our rooms.’

Mia allowed herself to be led forward and down into the bows of the ship. Men scurried backwards and forwards, getting everything ready for their voyage.

‘This is your room, sir,’ Glass said, opening the door to a cramped but well-furnished cabin. It had a large four-poster bed that filled over half the floor space. Mia felt herself drawn to it and scolded herself immediately; she was there as a prisoner, not to lounge about on the bed of a man she barely knew.

‘Nice bed,’ Will said.

Mia realised she’d been staring and quickly averted her eyes.

‘And for Miss Del Torres?’ Will asked.

Ed Redding, the First Mate, came down the stairs behind them.

‘Miss Del Torres can have my cabin,’ he said. ‘Come this way.’

‘I don’t want to put you out,’ Mia said quickly. ‘I’ll be quite comfortable in the brig.’

Redding turned to her with a laugh. ‘No one is comfortable in the brig, miss.’

‘But where will you sleep?’

‘There are spare bunks with the rest of the men. I’ll be fine down there for a couple of weeks.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Redding,’ Will said, ‘I appreciate it.’

The First Mate led the way further into the ship and stopped outside a narrow wooden door.

‘It’s not much,’ he said, ‘but it’s comfy enough.’

‘Thank you,’ Mia said.

‘I’d better get back up on deck. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.’

Redding left and Lieutenant Glass reluctantly followed behind, leaving Will and Mia alone.

‘Will you be comfortable here?’ Will asked.

Mia realised he was genuinely concerned. He might be her captor and willing to use her to find her brother, but he was considering her comfort at the same time. Things could be worse: she could be in the hands of Lieutenant Glass.

‘I will, thank you,’ Mia said.

He turned as if to leave, then slowly spun round again to face her.

‘Mia,’ he said slowly, ‘I meant what I said earlier.’

She looked at him. The small frown line in between his eyebrows was back again.

‘I might not agree with the Governor’s methods and I am sorry you’ve got caught up in this, but I have made an oath to bring your brother and his associates to justice and I need your help. I know you don’t want to be here, but if you help me I promise I will do everything I can to protect you when we get back to Barbados.’

Mia nodded slowly. She felt torn. She believed him, she believed that if she helped him he would try to protect her, but she also knew it would be in vain. She’d watched so many men and boys she’d known from childhood hang and she knew if she set foot on Barbados again as a prisoner she could well be heading for the noose.

‘I understand you are going to feel loyalty to your brother, but he has killed hundreds of innocent men and women. I can’t let that continue.’

He moved in closer so there was only a sliver of air between their bodies. Mia looked up at him and tried to concentrate—she found it so distracting when he was this close. They stood for a moment just looking at each other, trying to figure out what their next move was. She had to consciously stop herself from reaching up and running her fingers through his golden hair, pulling his head down so his lips met hers.

‘Shall we return to the deck?’ Will said suddenly, stepping away.

Mia felt as though she had been jolted awake from a trance. She nodded and docilely followed him up the wooden stairs and back into the humid air.

Chapter Three

Will cocked his head to one side and listened as the quiet footsteps approached his door. There was a long pause before a soft tap on the wood.

He was on his feet immediately and threw open the door.

‘Come in,’ he said with a smile.

Mia looked around suspiciously then stepped into the room.

‘Afraid of an ambush?’ Will asked.

‘It’s nearly midnight.’

‘And?’

‘When a man asks you to come to their room at this late hour a girl is allowed to be suspicious.’

Will looked at her closely and realised Mia was joking with him.

‘Worried I’m about to ravish you?’

‘I’d like to see you try.’

‘So you have concerns about my motives, but you still came?’

Mia shrugged, ‘It’s not as though I had a choice.’

He let it go. It was understandable she felt uncomfortable and didn’t want to be there. She’d been dragged in shackles on to the boat and if Lieutenant Glass had his way she’d be shivering in the brig now.

‘I thought we could get started.’

Mia looked around for somewhere to sit and finally decided on the bed. She flopped down in an unladylike fashion and Will had to hide a smile.

‘Mr Greenacre,’ Mia said seriously.

‘Will.’

‘Will,’ Mia refused to let herself be distracted. ‘I’m not sure how much the Governor told you about me.’

Hardly anything. In fact, he’d promised ‘local knowledge’ and then produced Mia. From Thatcher’s information, Will had managed to piece together a little more of her background, but she was still in the main a mystery.

‘I know your brother is the infamous Captain Del Torres. You’ve been wanted by the authorities for the past few months and have been in hiding.’

‘Anything else?’

‘I know you have a kind heart and would risk your life to ensure a stranger doesn’t drown.’

Mia turned away from him.

Will leaned forward in his chair. She had a sadness about her this evening.

‘Anything else?’

He shook his head.

‘When I was captured I was given a choice; help you or be executed the very next day.’

Will felt a knot forming in his stomach. He might have only known her for a short time, but the idea of Mia swinging from a noose was far too disturbing.

‘It wasn’t a hard decision to make.’

Will sat silently, wondering where she was going with this.

‘They didn’t ask what I knew or how I could help you, they just told me I would not be killed if I came with you to hunt my brother.’

She paused and closed her eyes.

‘I didn’t tell them at the time because I didn’t want to die, but I’ve got no idea where he is.’

Will leaned forward in his chair and smiled gently at her.

‘Of course you don’t.’

‘I don’t,’ Mia said quickly, ‘I’m not lying.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m not lying,’ she repeated.

‘I believe you.’

She frowned and studied his face.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Why do I believe you?’

She nodded.

‘Because why would you know where your brother is?’

She looked perplexed.

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Four or five years ago.’

‘And when was the last time you heard from him?’

‘I got a letter with some money about eighteen months ago.’

‘So why would I think you’d know where he was?’

‘But...’ Mia started.

Will leaned back in the chair and allowed her a moment of confusion. She looked beautiful in the glow of the candle and he imagined taking her into his arms and laying her down on the bed beneath him. Hurriedly Will pushed the thought from his mind and tried to focus on his mission.

‘Why am I here, then?’ she asked.

‘You might not know where your brother is, but you do know him. I can obtain information easily enough about his whereabouts, but I can’t capture him, outthink him, if I don’t know how his mind works.’

Mia sat digesting this piece of information for a while. She looked so innocent, sitting on his bed with her legs crossed underneath her. Her hand was moving backwards and forwards across the covers, an unconscious movement whilst she thought about what he was saying. By candlelight she looked young, too young to be embroiled in such dangerous affairs.

Will felt a protectiveness towards her he hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. She was vulnerable and alone and out of her depth. He wanted to shield her from what was to come and guard her from the evils of the world.

His other feelings for her weren’t quite so noble. The kiss they’d shared on the beach might have stemmed from delirium on his part, but he couldn’t forget the softness of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth or the way her body had moulded to his. He was trying to keep professional and businesslike, but every time he saw her he found it difficult not to take her in his arms and relive that moment when they had collapsed on the sand.

Each time he tried to force his mind back to the business of hunting Del Torres his thoughts seemed to wander instead to Mia. He wondered what it was about her that piqued his interest so much. He’d known beautiful women before, often resisted their advances. Will had always prided himself on being able to control his passions. It was in his nature to be on his own—indeed, as his friends had started to settle down and marry he had always assumed he would not have that domesticated life. Despite all that, he very much wanted to reach out and touch Mia, draw her to him and do wicked things to her.

Suddenly he needed to get out of the cabin. It was far too small and Mia sitting on his bed was far too tempting.

‘Shall we get some air?’ Will asked. ‘It’s a little hot in here.’

Mia shrugged, slipped off the bed and followed him to the door.

The sea was so calm it was almost flat. The wind had dropped and the ship was barely moving. It was a complete contrast to two nights previous when the storm had struck The White Rose. Had it only been two days? It felt so much longer. No wonder he was so weary, his muscles still protesting every time he moved.

‘Tell me about your childhood, Mia,’ Will said, trying to distract himself from his inappropriate desires by getting back to work.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything.’

Mia took a few seconds before she started speaking, looking out to the horizon as if remembering better times. He saw her hesitate and for a moment wondered if she was going to refuse.

‘My father was a sailor, or so my mother said. I never knew him. It was always just Jorge and Mama and me.’

Mia pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear before continuing.

‘Mama was born a slave—her parents were brought here from Africa many years ago. She worked on a sugar plantation on Martinique, but when she was about my age she escaped with my father’s help. They came to live in Barbados together to start a new life.’

‘So what happened to your father?’ Will asked.

‘Rum,’ she said sadly. ‘He was found lying face up on the docks when I was five hours old, choked on his own vomit. Probably died at the same time I came into the world.’

‘So your mother raised you and your brother alone?’

It was a very different childhood to Will’s. He’d been privileged and pampered and treated to every little luxury. Some elements resonated with him, however; he’d grown up never knowing his mother, the child of a kindly but lonely man. And he’d had his older brother, Richard, to guide him through his early years just like Mia must have had her brother.

‘She did what she could. There were always a lot of men around, but what else could a runaway slave do to make money?’

Will couldn’t imagine such a childhood.

‘Jorge was five years older, so by the time I was walking he was bringing in most of the money.’

‘Stealing?’

Mia nodded, ‘Pickpocketing mainly, especially when he was young. Jorge was a fantastic thief. He taught me to pick my first pocket when I was five. He was so proud when I got all the way to the end of the street without anyone noticing.’

‘So how did he go from picking a few pockets to piracy?’

Again Mia hesitated and Will wondered if he’d asked one question too many. ‘When Jorge was twelve he fell in with the wrong crowd. He’d never hurt anyone before. Sure, he’d stolen things, taken things that hadn’t belonged to him, but he’d never harmed anyone in the process.’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘He beat this boy up. The kid was a member of the gang and had been caught taking more than his share. Jorge was the new boy so it was his job to punish him.’

‘An initiation?’

‘Of sorts. Anyway, he went too far. It was as though he was possessed—a bloodlust came over him and he just wouldn’t stop. The boy died.’

Will looked at her carefully. ‘You saw it, didn’t you? You saw your brother beat this boy to death.’

Mia nodded, the tears coming to her eyes. ‘I still remember his pleas and his screams. They were only kids.’

Will moved closer. His instinct was to comfort her, but it would be inappropriate. No matter how much he didn’t like it, he was still her captor and she his prisoner. He might want to hold her and stroke her hair and murmur in her ear, but he couldn’t.

Mia turned towards him, her face wet with tears. For a long moment their eyes were locked together and Will felt some invisible force pulling him towards her. A few seconds longer and he wouldn’t have been able to resist, he would have taken her in his arms and devoured her with his lips, but Mia turned away and broke the spell.

She looked out into the distance and continued. ‘The soldiers came looking for him. Normally they wouldn’t bother when one pickpocket kills another, but it was an excuse to rid the area of the whole gang.’

The wind whipped another strand of hair loose and this time Mia let it dance in the wind.

‘Jorge talked his way aboard a ship and started his career as a pirate.’

‘It must have been hard for you to lose your brother.’

‘I hated him for a while,’ Mia said quietly. ‘I hated him for killing that boy and I hated him for leaving us.’

‘And now?’

‘I don’t hate him,’ Mia said, ‘but I don’t think he’s the same boy I once knew.’

She shivered a little. Will suspected it was an emotional response as the night was hot and the air humid.

‘I hear the stories of the atrocious things he’s meant to have done and I remember the cheeky little boy who would entertain me for hours with his antics.’

‘So what happened to you after your brother left?’ Will asked, wondering how she’d survived.

‘My mother cried for a week when she realised Jorge was gone for good, but then she pulled herself together. She met a carpenter and they fell in love. He was always kind to me. He died six years ago and Mama followed him a few days later.’

‘So you’ve been on your own since?’

Will wondered just how old she was. She only looked twenty-two at the most, but that would mean she’d been on her own since she was sixteen. He didn’t want to think of what she’d had to do to survive.

‘Not entirely. Until six months ago I worked for Mr Partridge, one of the shipbuilders, in his kitchen. The other girls there were my family.’

‘What happened six months ago?’

‘They found out who my brother was.’

Will could just imagine Mia’s torment of once again having her life ripped out from under her feet.

‘I went into hiding. My stepfather had kept a small cabin on the east coast, not far from where I found you. No one knew about it. It was lonely, but at least I was alive.’

‘So have you actually committed any crime?’

He knew the answer before she said it.

‘No. But what does that matter?’

‘It matters,’ he said firmly. ‘It matters to me.’

Chapter Four

‘Surely you don’t mean to take her ashore?’ Lieutenant Glass asked disapprovingly.

Will smiled serenely at the Lieutenant and nodded.

‘She has invaluable local knowledge.’

Mia suppressed a smile. She’d never been to Jamaica in her life and Will knew it.

‘Shall I at least retrieve the shackles for you?’ Glass said hopefully. ‘Stop her from running away?’

‘Are you going to run away, Miss Del Torres?’ Will asked.

‘No.’

‘You believe her?’ Glass looked as if he were about to explode.

‘I believe her.’

The Lieutenant mumbled a few incomprehensible words under his breath. As Will turned away Mia had to suppress the childish urge to stick her tongue out at the military man. That certainly wouldn’t endear her to him.

‘We shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours,’ Will informed the Captain.

‘We need to take on fresh supplies but we should be ready to leave as soon as you return, if necessary.’

Will offered Mia his arm and she placed a hand on the fabric of his jacket.

‘Where are we going?’ Glass asked as he followed them off the ship.

‘Miss Del Torres and I are off to meet a contact of mine in the less salubrious part of Port Royal. You are staying on board the ship.’

Glass actually choked with indignation.

Will let Mia’s hand drop and spun to face him.

‘I am meeting a secret contact who does not want it to be known he is helping the authorities catch pirates. I can hardly walk in with a Naval Officer at my side.’

Glass looked down at his unmistakable uniform.

‘I could change.’

‘Even in civilian clothes you have Navy written all over you. So if you don’t want to jeopardise our mission I suggest you stay out of sight.’

The man looked as though he was about to protest, then turned without another word and disappeared below decks.

‘I think you’ve just made an enemy,’ Mia said.

Will shrugged.

‘You need to be careful. The Lieutenant is a powerful man.’

‘He’s also rude and so far up his own...’ Will trailed off.

Mia giggled, ‘You forget I grew up with prostitutes and sailors and gutter rats. A little bit of bad language isn’t going to offend me.’

Despite what she said, Mia was quite pleased Will had stopped himself. She might be used to foul language, but she wanted his respect. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he treated her like a lady rather than the commoner she was.

‘So where are we going?’ Mia asked cheerfully. She was pleased to be back on dry land. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the sea, but like many who lived in the Caribbean she was wary of the sudden changes in temperament. One minute the sky could be blue and the sea calm, the next the clouds would roll in and the sea would swallow anything and everything.

‘I have a source, an acquaintance of a friend of a friend of a friend, who might have some information.’

‘What kind of information?’ Mia asked.

‘He was once a member of your brother’s crew, got thrown out a few years ago for some transgression or another.’

‘How do you know he’ll tell you the truth?’

‘I don’t. But apparently when they threw him out they were actually trying to kill him, so he has little reason to stay loyal.’

They walked in silence for a minute or two. Mia enjoyed the lively sights and sounds of the port. Women in brightly coloured dresses flirted with the sailors. Voices shouting instructions for the unloading of the ships merged with the shrieks of young children as they ran excitedly from berth to berth. The exotic aroma of spices masked the underlying stench of filth which rose from beneath their feet.

They ambled slowly through the maze of streets that made up Port Royal. Although Mia had never been to Jamaica before, she knew it by reputation. Not long ago Port Royal had been a hotbed of crime and prostitution and pirate activity. The new Governor sent from England had taken a tough stance on piracy and it was rumoured twenty people were hanged a day for piracy-related activities. However, no amount of policy from the Governor could change the people of Port Royal, so the prostitutes and the crime remained and the pirates were just driven a little deeper underground.

A young girl of no more than four sidled up to them as they walked further into the town.

‘Spare a coin to feed a hungry child,’ she said angelically.

Mia grinned. She had played the same scam numerous times with her brother. Identify the victims, send the sweet girl to entice them to remove their purse from their clothing and distract them whilst the older sibling snatches the purse and runs.

‘I wonder who you’re working with?’ Will said, looking around.

Mia was impressed. There weren’t many people who saw the scam for what it was the first time round.

‘That little ragamuffin over there,’ Mia said with a grin.

The girl froze for a second, then ran off through the crowd.

‘So how does a toff from England know how to keep hold of his wallet in the mean streets of Port Royal?’ Mia asked, genuinely interested.

Will fascinated her. He was a mass of contradictions. Posh but street smart, a hunter of pirates but compassionate to their sisters. She wondered what had brought him to the Caribbean and what drove him to risk his life hunting some of the most dangerous men on earth.

‘Now, that is a long story,’ Will said.

They walked on in silence. Mia occasionally glanced at Will, wondering what she could do to make him open up to her. Not that he was obliged to, but she so desperately wanted to know more about him. She knew he found her attractive and not just because of the kiss on the beach. He’d been exhausted and just short of delirious then. But yesterday, outside her cabin, he’d looked into her eyes and edged just so slightly forward. He’d wanted to kiss her, she was sure of it, and she would have let him. She would have felt guilty kissing the man who was hunting her brother, but she wouldn’t have wanted to stop him. But something had held him back and this morning he had returned to being friendly but distant, not revealing any more than he had to.

She wondered if she’d gone too far the night before, opening up to him. She had surprised herself in how freely she’d told him of her childhood and her family. Normally she was a private person. When she had worked for Mr Partridge she’d managed to keep her whole life up to the point when he’d employed her a secret. She supposed perversely she felt at ease with Will, the man who was meant to be her captor. He looked at her as though he didn’t judge her on the transgressions of her brother as so many others did. When he’d asked her about her childhood it had felt right to open up to him. Mia wondered if a large part of it was also loneliness. For months she’d lived alone, with no one to talk to from one day to the next. When a sympathetic listener came along and seemed genuinely interested in her life she was bound to start talking.

They stopped outside a grubby-looking inn and Mia was forced to put her ruminations aside.

‘I won’t let anyone harm you,’ Will said after seeing the look on her face.

Mia laughed. She’d grown up in places like this, spent hours scuttling under the tables lifting purses and grabbing chunks of bread whilst the patrons rolled about in a drunken stupor.

They entered and found a table in the corner, away from the raucous crowd near the bar.

Will leaned back against the wall and exhaled loudly.

‘Tired?’ Mia asked.

‘I didn’t sleep well.’

‘The sea has tried to kill you once and you’ve survived. I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you.’

‘I wasn’t worrying about the sea. I’d have to be very unlucky to get shipwrecked twice in one week.’

Mia refused to let his cheeky grin derail her. She was going to find something out about Will Greenacre if it killed her. He knew so much about her and she so little about him.

‘So what did keep you awake?’

Will paused for a long few seconds and Mia wondered if he might just ignore the question completely.

‘I was thinking about my brother,’ he said eventually.

‘Mr Greenacre,’ a man said in a low voice.

Mia nearly punched him. Will was just about to tell her something about himself.

‘Mr Weston. Please, sit down.’

Will motioned to the barmaid, holding up three fingers.

‘I can’t stay long,’ the mysterious Mr Weston growled, ‘might be recognised.’

He glanced at Mia suspiciously.

Will took a cloth purse from the recesses of his jacket and slid it across the table. Mr Weston picked it up, felt the weight with his hand and smiled, treating Mia to a waft of stale breath and the sight of his horrible blackened teeth.

‘Who’s she?’ Mr Weston asked, nodding at Mia.

‘A friend.’

He looked her up and down. ‘Do I know you?’ he asked eventually.

‘I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure,’ Mia replied sweetly.

Mr Weston grunted suspiciously, then turned back to Will.

‘So what do you want to know?’

Will leaned forward and lowered his voice, ‘I want to know where I can find Captain Del Torres.’

Mr Weston snorted. ‘That man’s a ghost. The Navy have been after him for years and haven’t even got close.’

‘You’ve sailed with him. You must have some idea where he takes his ship in a storm. Where he goes to take on water and food.’

‘He’s a very clever man. Difficult to catch.’

A serving boy appeared with three flagons of ale and plonked them down on the table, causing half the liquid to spill out. Weston took a long draught and shamelessly eyed up Mia again.

‘Are you sure I don’t know you?’ he asked. ‘You look very familiar.’

Mia hadn’t seen her brother for years, but she expected there was still quite a strong family resemblance between them. She didn’t think that bit of information would be terribly helpful in this situation.

‘Let’s get back to Captain Del Torres,’ Will prompted. ‘Tell me about the ship.’

Weston smiled his blackened grin again. ‘The Flaming Dragon is a beauty. Armed with more cannons than any other ship in these waters and still nimble enough to outrun any Navy ship. She’s invincible.’

‘No ship is invincible. They all sink eventually.’

Weston took another gulp of ale, nearly finishing the tankard. Will motioned for another to be brought forward. Mia noticed he hadn’t touched his own.

‘How about the crew? And the Captain himself?’

‘The crew are all very loyal,’ Weston said, raising a hand to his throat unconsciously.

Mia leaned in closer and realised he had two jagged scars zigzagging across the skin of his neck. They were partially obscured by grime, but they were visible for all to see if you knew to look.

‘The Captain only has to give the word and they’ll rush to do his bidding.’

‘How has he earned their loyalty?’

‘Fair division of spoils and fear.’ Weston touched his throat again. ‘Del Torres isn’t afraid to slaughter someone if he disagrees with him.’

Will glanced at Mia. She smiled weakly. She still remembered the little boy who held her hand whilst they sat watching the boats come into port. It was difficult to listen to what a monster he had become.

‘And what does Del Torres target?’ Will asked.

Mia took a sip of ale to try to fortify herself for the answer that was to come.

‘Mainly merchant ships. He has contacts in most of the ports who feed him information about which ships to target. That’s one of the differences between The Dragon and other pirate ships—when The Dragon engages with a merchant ship you know it is going to be a big payload at the end.’

‘How about raiding towns?’ Mia asked. She didn’t want to know the answer, but felt she had to.

Weston shifted his attention back to her. ‘Land raids are high risk—you get little return for what can sometimes be a big loss of life or capture of men. Del Torres will raid towns, but not often. He normally focuses on the merchant ships.’

‘And on these land raids, does he...?’ Mia paused, trying to find the right words without her voice cracking. ‘Does he kill civilians? Does he rape innocent women?’

Weston looked at her strangely as if she was asking an obvious question.

‘He’s a pirate,’ he said simply.

Mia felt the blood drain from her head and clutched at the table to steady herself. She had known her brother had been branded a pirate and deep down she knew he must do all the atrocious things pirates did, but a part of her had clung to the hope that he’d been nobler than the rest.

She felt Will move closer and he took her hand in his own under the table. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. Mia wanted to allow her body to sink into his, to feel his protective arms around her, shielding her from the world.

‘If you want to see what Del Torres can do, why don’t you take a trip to Savanna-la-Mar?’ Weston suggested. ‘Then you can see first-hand what destruction a pirate raid wreaks.’

Mia swallowed convulsively.

‘Del Torres and his crew raided the town four days ago,’ Weston explained. ‘Think they killed about twenty people, but there’re plenty of survivors to give you the gory details.’

‘Tell me about where the ship anchors,’ Will asked quickly, diverting Weston’s attention from Mia and her ashen face.

‘Del Torres avoids highly populated areas, especially after an attack. There are some quiet bays on Tortola and Dominica. When the ship needs more provisions or repairs he normally takes it to one of the small harbours on St Vincent or St Lucia.’

‘Surely the authorities are on the lookout for The Flaming Dragon even in the small harbours.’

Weston shook his head and smiled ruefully. ‘Del Torres is a clever man. He pays the right people to look the other way and he never misses a payment.’

He paused and took another gulp of ale, once again eyeing Mia.

‘You look very familiar,’ he repeated again.

‘Can you tell me anything more about these bays?’ Will asked, determined to get more information from the former pirate.

Weston shrugged, ‘I was only a lowly seaman, not privy to any of the plans. They were sheltered, we rode out a few storms in some of the coves. Apart from that I don’t know what else I can tell you. I was only on the ship for a couple of months.’

‘Why?’ Mia asked, trying not to glance at the scars on his neck, ‘What happened?’

Weston grimaced, ‘I got greedy and I got caught.’

‘And they let you live?’

‘That was a mistake. Del Torres had one of the crew slit my throat, but they did an awful job. Threw me into the sea bleeding like hell, but in no way dead. I managed to make it back to land and someone patched me up. I was at death’s door for a good few weeks.’

Mia didn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’d been a pirate, happy to kill innocent people. If he couldn’t even stick by the self-imposed rules of piracy, he didn’t deserve her pity.

‘Se cosecha lo sembrado,’ Mia murmured.

Weston stood suddenly, the colour draining from his face.

‘What did you say?’ he asked, his voice choking in his throat.

Mia hesitated, then said again, ‘Se cosecha lo sembrado.’

‘Who are you? Are you working for him?’

People were beginning to stare.

‘Are you working for Del Torres?’

‘Sit down, Weston,’ Will commanded. ‘You’re drawing attention to us.’

Weston ignored him.

‘Are you working for Del Torres?’ he asked again.

Mia shook her head, but seemingly the reassurance was not enough for the ex-pirate. He backed away from the table, then, when he had reached the door, he turned and ran.

Mia and Will looked at each other in amazement.

‘What does it mean?’ Will asked her eventually.

‘You reap what you sow. My mother used to say it.’

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