Exerpt 1

Trying to appear casual taking a healthy pull, all the while thinking how impossible this was; every instinct told her the barman was speaking with Lafitte and the said owner would be next to her soon.  Heart pounded knowing her words to West were true, she was the only one who could get the information sought.  Swallowing hard, staring into the mug trying not to be anxious but wanting to chuckle; there was every reason to be and not a single thing amusing about the situation she was in.  Both hands were tightly gripping the drink when a moment later she was aware of a man coming beside, while the barkeep paused before her laying down a few coins.  Henley felt the weight of their stares; the man at her side leaned both forearms on the bar.  The movement drew her eyes, now focusing on the arms and hands of the man she knew had to be Laffite.  Muscular forearms with the sleeves of the shirt rolled; they were hands of a man obviously used to hard work and he wore silver rings on two fingers of each hand.   “You look like you’ll need another shortly,” the sudden low provocative voice surprising her at its nearness.  Turning further caught her off guard; not having any idea what Pierre would look like, seeing the handsome unshaven face with the slightly curved mouth and arresting green eyes left her with no response.  Not expecting the impressive man and though no pictures or photos of the older Laffite survived through the decades, she was startled.  This man had to be in his mid possibly late thirties; history had been somewhat vague as to exactly when and where he had been born.  It was accepted it had been Pauillac, France around 1770 if her memory was correct, though another source claimed 1773 and Bordeaux of the same country; based on who she was looking at neither year could be right.  He held her gaze for seconds before averting to glance the barkeep; released from the visible hold she took a discreet breath.  “Get th’ lady another, she’s almost empty,” Lafitte told the man.  Tilting the mug expecting need to refuse, surprised to see barely a quarter of the liquid minutes ago.  Perhaps she was more nervous than she admitted.  

inside the book...

	Ethan quietly shut the door to their hotel room, eyes falling to the sleeping woman on the bed knowing she was out cold even though the oil lamp threw faint light.  Closing the steps, he stood looking down at his wife; his wife!  There was no reason to withhold the tug at mouth taking in her peaceful sleeping face.  He married the woman he pulled quite literally from the middle of the sea, the chuckle inward.  It had been her who spoke up quickly in Viejo, hence saving them all her included.  Recalling her words of why she had taken the sea voyage in the first place deepened his amusement.  Adventure and relaxation; they had certainly given her more than enough of both.  Yet he realized Sonora and he had far more ‘adventure’ in the last two months because of her.  Filled with unanswered questions as it was, knowing this intriguing beautiful woman had spent an entire night trapped with another man he knew wanted her, brought a frown to his handsome face.  It wasn’t he doubted her; West knew as intelligent and wise as she was there was no way this woman could stand up to the experience of either him or Laffite.  If the man had an entire uninterrupted night with her…well, he knew if he was in the other man’s position he certainly would take advantage of the time.  Reaching a hand gently running index down her cheek, the sigh was deep.  He was painfully aware he’d made it an ideal situation for Laffite on top of it with his foolishness beginning all the way back in Cartagena if he was honest.  With shake of head, moving to quietly get ready for some much-needed rest, though he doubted sleep would come for a long time as he was weighed down with chaotic thoughts.

Across the hall another man was lying awake in the dark though he was not attempting to fall asleep; unable to get this woman out of his head Laffite had long since stopped trying, now only trying to come up with a way to keep her.  Every possibility seemed to cost her far too much in the end; not to mention all the severed friendships it would cost them both.  Was worth it?  Pierre chuckled without humor as he remembered every time she was in his arms, deciding yes it was worth it.  He was a pirate, privateer what have you, this trying to find some way to legitimately walk away with what he knew should be his was new for him and likely the reason he’d yet to come up with anything.  Occurring to him again he wouldn’t be returning to sail with Sonora and Henley didn’t know that, hadn’t thought of it why would she?  Aware how comfortable and secure she felt with him there, but he couldn’t; no reason to.  What was he supposed to do?  Ask West if he could join his crew and sail under his command in hopes eventually when the other captain made some irreparable mistake, he’d be right there to catch her broken heart?  The thought brought another daring, reckless curve of mouth.   He had always taken what he wanted, mousing maybe he’d just keep her here with him; thinking it many times since he first laid eyes on her, damn the consequences.  In his next breath knowing he couldn’t, didn’t want that with her.  Would she love him then, because he knew she did.  His love for her was the same reason holding her in his arms when they were on an isolated beach the entire night was all that happened when he knew it could’ve been more.  The roguish look reappeared; well not all that happened, he fell completely in love with her.  The thought occurred again if Jean was deliberately suggesting he led the group for the last load of bounty, staying behind with West.  He’d always had differences with his brother but it seemed the younger man was trying to do him a favor.  Pierre began to think he was the fool if he didn’t use the opportunity afforded him, again.  One thing was certain much as it turned his stomach, he would have to tell her he wasn’t sailing with Sonora.  The crease appeared in his forehead as he stared at the dim moonlight streaming in the window on the far wall; not looking forward to seeing misinterpretation reflected in her eyes.  How was he supposed to sail in the other direction, leaving her in his wake?  Laffite had managed to exhaust himself trying to come up with something; realizing all he wanted to do was fall asleep with the woman he loved safe beside him in his arms.  Tired as he was, once he had that thought there was no falling asleep and when he finally did it was as restless as his heart and thoughts.

Jean Laffite's pub Cartagena

Pierre watched her expression with the range of emotions before realizing he’d hesitated longer than he wanted already.  Since she stood at his left he reached his right hand to grasp her right forearm, holding gently he firmly pulled her half a step his direction.  At the same time he moved so he was standing behind her; smoothly in one motion wrapping his left forearm high on her chest he pulled her back into him.  Moving his right arm around her waist pulling and holding her with only the faintest pressure; not speaking only keeping her flush against him.  Henley almost didn’t dare a breath; what was happening?  Too confused to ponder this one, she allowed her eyes to close in the secure feeling his arms afforded her at this moment.  It wasn’t that long ago when his intimidating presence had her feeling apprehensive but she was never afraid of him; now finding it odd that having his arms around her calmed and quieted her troubling thoughts.  He said not a word, believing she needed the silence.  His unyielding arms were strangely tender as they held her; having her so close he felt as well as heard her let out a deep sigh and lean back into him significantly.  The silent smile there was no reason to hide spread while he unnoticeably tightened the arm about her waist.  This was new for him; he couldn’t remember ever having a woman in his arms where all he did was hold them in such a protective way.  Knocked from her ship?  There was something different about her; unable to describe it as he told Jean just a short while ago, she’s different.  Holding this woman in his arms unable to help it he thought back to Royal, the charade she put on by herself which he fell for.  Now the slant of his mouth was truly amused; he just watched her smoothly relay a tale to his brother how she met him which only deepened the expression he wore.  To selflessly speak up to Boyle; though he was betting she spoke before really thinking things through yet if she had it most likely would’ve been too late.  If this woman was sailing on his ship and spoke up in his behalf marrying him, he would certainly not allow some sen`orita to remain on his lap, no matter if she took him by surprise.  He felt her take a deep breath letting it out slowly; daring to bring his mouth close to her ear.  It seemed West might just be breaking her heart; if that should be the case Pierre intended to be the man to pick up the pieces.Pressing his mouth closer so it grazed her ear he spoke in the guttural whisper; “Ready amor?”  She started, jerking slightly since from the feel of her in his arms Henley had lost all tension.  Chuckling his mouth had not moved; “Y’ tell me if you’re ready t’ return, if not I understand.”  Yet she nodded.  “I needed to walk away but think so.”  Laffite didn’t release her and back away, she made no attempt to pull free of his embrace.  Surprise wasn’t the word to aptly describe her thoughts; maybe she just needed someone to hold her thinking wryly it wasn’t so different from her own time.  Never from the moment she first laid eyes on Lafitte would she believe he’d be the man to offer solace when she needed it.  

Excerpt...

Walking with Laffite by choice, though he was leading with gentle pressure on her forearm.  Silent on dock till stepping foot on solid ground when she stopped; he had no choice but to pause with her.  “What’s wrong?”  She sighed.  “Finally being on solid ground.”  He chuckled; this woman amused him.  “This way,” nodding to the big dark colored wooden building she observed from the ship.  Speaking as they walked; “Looks empty but don’t talk and if you must, whisper; get my attention by squeezing my arm,” he said.  She nodded not answering.  In the far reaches of her mind she wanted to smile; this was exciting for someone who did nothing but write about adventure.  They entered the dark musty structure; entertaining passing thought Jean needed a new warehouse.  They walked around half the building seeing crate after crate; stopping occasionally he would open the side of one enough to see inside and they continued.  Partway through she saw several openings leading outside; not speaking and he still led with gentle grip.  They came to another open side door and she pulled towards it, wanting to see.  Lafitte followed; at the same moment they hear men’s voices outside, several from the sound of it.  It happened so quick she almost couldn’t breathe; turning so his back was against that outside wall pressing against it, simultaneously encircling her waist with forearm pulling her back against him with such force it took her breath away.  His other covered mouth holding her flush, her head falling back between his head and shoulder.  Immediately instinctively fighting him, albeit she also heard the voices.  The law of strength won of course as he locked muscular arms about her with just enough pressure she couldn’t move, yet still Henley squirmed letting her knees buckle as she attempted to fall in dead weight.  Rock hard arms tightened and it had no effect whatsoever on the man; only tightening his grip catching her breath mid-gasp.  His mouth pressed against her ear as he hissed; “Quiet!  Be still or they’ll ‘ear you!”  It so shocked her she froze, unmoving with held breath.  As soon as she stilled, he released pressure of his hand and she could breathe, sucking in a breath of air.  They remained immobile for several moments as the voices grew distant.  Painfully aware of the strength of this man; holding her with strong arms as immobile as he managed to do with nothing but a look from his penetrating gaze.  “That’s better mon amour,” the voice said beside her ear, feeling his lips part to speak.  Not moving for unable though the grip around her waist loosened; when all sound disappeared other than the water lapping at the shore line and dock pilings, Pierre released her.  
Stepping forward turning to look at him, ashamed for aware her eyes were wide.  He only flashed a reckless grin and shrugged.  “You would’ve blown our cover,” and she flinched knowing it true.  Why wouldn’t her heart slow?  “There’s nothing here, we’ll have t’ head into town,” he said nonchalantly, moving the other direction.  Flustered and surprised, she followed.  At the far side of the decrepit warehouse they came to another door; this time he went through it gently pulling her after him.  They were standing on the dock again, the farthest edge for a glance revealed the hard packed dirt street; land.  Pierre took half a step forward to offer a wave to the man at the other end beside Sonora.  She also observed Jace gesture acknowledgement though she could barely see as the sun had now set, it was dusk and growing darker.  Facing town, Lafitte gestured to walk with him.  Leaving the dock and ships behind, focusing on her surroundings; she was in Cartagena!  It was hard not to allow the hint of a pleased look and then her curious eyes taking everything in fell on who she walked beside; an impressive man, formidable and daring with roguish pull to his mouth.  Now his shoulder length hair was pulled in a queue accentuating the strong unshaven jaw and devilish glint in his eyes; his very appearance was intimidating in Port Royal, after the several physical confrontations since believing it was warranted.  She could have laughed aloud; here she was walking down the dirt street with Pierre Lafitte in Cartagena, in 1812!  No, this was something even she had not dreamed up for some imaginary tale.  What they were doing here was almost more alarming; for the first time comprehension hit her, the position she was in and her mouth parted.  