Page 19 of Pirate's Intent
They were also no longer in the Caribbean.
She took in the salt marshes, windswept sand dunes, and tall, hardy grasses. Herring gulls cried overhead.
“This looks familiar.” Her eyes shot to Thomas. “Why does this look familiar?” She shook her head. “How long did I sleep for?”
“Nigh on two days,” he revealed. “As to the location, you likely passed it going south. What's more, you likely passed safely because your captain struck a deal with Blackbeard.” His eyes met hers. “We are off the Carolina coast. An island once called Woccocon but more recently referred to as Ococcock or Ocracoke.”
“I have heard of it.” She frowned. “It is a pirate stronghold, is it not?”
“Not to the extent of Port Royal or Nassau, but it has its fair share of my sort.”
“I am not so sure they are truly your sort, Thomas,” she said softly.
Their sort would have taken advantage of a woman in their bed.
“You will need to make a decision and swiftly,” he said, seemingly ignoring her comment.
“What is that?”
“What role you would like to play this time.”
“Pardon?”
“You cannot go into this port a genteel lady,” he explained. “Either you go as our prisoner,” he shrugged, “or something else.”
“Something else?”
“There are really only two other choices.” A twinkle lit his eyes. “A wench or a pirate.” He shot her a sly look. “I believe you once said you wanted to adventure like a pirate.”
“I did,” she conceded softly, considering his suggestions. “But I was only dreaming then, trying to escape the nightmare that was my uncle.”
“Though I could put this delicately, I think you can handle the truth,” he replied. “There is a good chance Big Devil, and his rats will arrive here at any moment, so you are, undoubtedly, still trying to escape a nightmare.”
While he could have been a little less direct, she was grateful he was not. That he remained honest with her. So what would she be? A prisoner yet again, a wench or a pirate? Though it would be the easiest, becoming a prisoner once more did not sound appealing in the least. That left a wench or pirate. Could she truly portray a woman of the night, though? She had little to no experience to draw on.
Then again, what did she know about being a pirate?
“How did you do it so well in Nassau?” he said, seemingly following her thoughts. “How did you become the character in one of your books?”
“I am not entirely sure,” she murmured. “I played on how I felt at the time. I was speechless. Terrified. Unable to utter a word. So I embraced the persona, and it blossomed into deaf, dumb, and mute. Truthfully, it was but a means to an end. All I allowed myself to focus on rather than the terror that lay ahead.” She shrugged, not sure if that made sense. “I became what I needed to become.”
If she were to be honest with herself, she had been doing such for a long time. Going somewhere else in her mind when her uncle took his switch to her. Pretending she was someone else. Not stuck in a helpless body at the mercy of cruelty. In fact, she had spent countless hours reading to her uncle's slaves, hoping they realized they could do the same.
That there was an escape, no matter how brief.
“Land ahoy,” Charles called out. “All hands on deck!”
“You must choose,” Thomas urged. “We will dock soon.”
She glanced from the shore to him, already knowing her choice. “I will become a pirate.”
“Youarea pirate,” he corrected. “You must believe it to be convincing.”
“Very true.” Rose nodded firmly. “Iama pirate.” Then she considered it. “What does that mean precisely for a woman? I have only read about men.”
“For starters, your outfit needs adjusting.” He pulled her back into his cabin and rummaged through his trunk before tossing trousers and a shirt on the bed. “Better in those.”
“These cannot possibly be yours.” She fingered the clothing and cocked her head at him. “They are far too small.”
