Chapter 10

D RUGGING A MAN? THAT'S what Agatha had succumbed to? Really? And not just any man. Not even a really bad man. (Did that make it better or worse? She wasn't sure.)

"Oh my God, what have I done?" Agatha's hands were on either side of her head, squishing it. What was she hoping for? Thoughts to pop out? Did she think that by squeezing her brain she might push out an answer? A justification? A rationale that a sane (or even semi-sane) person would accept?

"Oh my God," she muttered as she paced the room. For sure this was her losing her mind. She had drugged a man with the valerian her sister had given to her. Of course she hadn't used all of it, just a few drops in hopes that it would make him calm down. Well…he was calm all right. He was calmed all the way down. The man was unconscious. He couldn't be any more calm if calm was his middle name. First name! Damn it, the man was calm.

Her palms were sweaty enough to polish a dirty pair of boots right now. And her heart…Oh God…was that what was hammering a hole through her chest? What was she hoping to have happen here? Drug him. Stay on the ship. But how? She needed him conscious .

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Agatha threw herself at the door.

This was the worst possible thing that could happen. What the devil was she going to do now? No one knew she was on board. No one knew her. She wasn't safe here. What if the men tossed her overboard? Sent her home? Or worse? She shuddered. Thank God the door was locked.

"Captain?" A raspy voice called out. "It's Big John, we're setting out now. You coming up?"

Oh my God, what was she going to do?

"Captain?"

Her throat in her chest, Agatha grunted. It was her best impression of Jude that she could manage with her nerves.

"You good if we set out?"

She grunted again.

"You drunk?"

Another grunt.

It seemed as though Big John was buying it because he chuckled and said, "See you in the morning."

All of her nerves swelled through her body and she closed her eyes. Turning around, she pushed her back against the door and slid to the floor. Her head dropped to her knees. Who the hell was she? She didn't even recognize herself anymore.

She was a miscreant. She had drugged a man.

A pirate. A known rogue. A wild man with no consideration for others. Had no qualms when it came to taking what he wanted, simply because he wanted it.

A man that could do anything he wanted to her. Her body shuddered at the thought of what he might want to do to her .

Watching him slumped over on the table, she felt foolish. But for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel helpless.

She felt as though she was actually taking her life into her hands and following her heart. Because she needed to write, she would do whatever it took to make her writing great. She would not quit. She would never give up on her dream.

Drool pooled at Jude's chin as he dreamed. About what? She had no idea, but the look he cast her on his way down indicated he might have some visions of her in his slumber.

She glanced toward the bed and back at him, feeling pity for him in his awkward position. Really, she should try to get him onto the bed so that he didn't abhor her too much when he woke.

Awkwardly, she placed herself between his arms, with her back to his rumbling chest. God, the man could snore. Her eyes darted back to the bed. It was only a few paces away. If she used all her might, she should be able to lug his body draped over hers and then heave it onto the bed. With a grunt, she pushed up with all her strength.

Nothing.

Well, just a moan. And a mumble from him. Had he actually said, Siren?

Stuck between his chest and the table, his arms tightened around her. Damn. She hadn't expected this.

His nose nuzzled into the nape of her neck and his warm breath set fire to her skin. Surely her hair would be ablaze and that would be the end of her. Incinerated by a drugged pirate, alone together in his cabin. That's how she was about to leave this planet.

No. She needed out. She needed a little more time.

Shimmying out of his arms, she rose to her full height and resigned herself to the fact that he would loathe her—and then some— tomorrow.

For tonight, all she could do was get a good sleep in preparation to fend off his attacks in the morning.

At the first crack of sunlight, Agatha scurried out of bed. Jude was still out, whether now in a sleep or unconscious, she didn't hover around to find out.

The plan for now was simple. Get on deck, get ahead of Jude, and tell the crew that she was Jude's guest and then tell them her story. Oh, not dramatically, just authentically. As though it were no big deal for her to be aboard their ship without a chaperone. It was just like any other day.

She smoothed her hair, found some powder to rub into her teeth, cleaned her face, and walked out. Completely ignoring her dress. Because oh yes, of course she had to be wearing a mermaid styled gown on privateer's ship. Because of course the night she had chosen to take charge of her destiny had to coincide with wearing the most unorthodox gown a lady could wear. Because…well, of course. That was fate's backhanded slap on her face.

Take that. Go ahead and try to live the life you want. Fate taunted her. But she stood tall, shoulders back and told fate to back off.

Simply because there was no other choice at the moment, she feigned ignorance to her appearance as she stood on the deck, feeling the seabreeze drift through her hair.

And for one elated moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of her freedom.

Then a few throats cleared.

When she opened her sunbathed eyes, she stared into a multitude of grimey faces belonging to several of the most calloused looking men she had ever laid eyes upon.

Show them no fear. Show them no curiosity. Show them nothing.

"Good morning," her voice rang out with more confidence than she felt.

A couple of the men had some decency to reply to her with a mumble.

"Who might you be?" A giant stepped up to her but she didn't recognize the voice. This wasn't Big John then.

She tipped her head back. Her eyes met his chest. She tipped her head back further, finally meeting his eyes.

"I'm Lady Agatha. And you are?"

"Sprat."

"Bless you."

"That's my name," his voice rumbled like a thundercloud around her.

"Oh." She tucked some nonexistent hairs behind her ear, hoping she covered her shock well enough. "Nice to meet you, Sprat."

"What are you doing here?"

"I've come aboard the ship as Ju—the Captain's guest." Thinking it might not show due respect to refer to his Christian name, she defaulted to his title.

"His guest?" Sprat eyes her. Her and her mermaid-looking gown. "As what? His mis—"

"His nothing. I'm his guest. I'm working on a piece about life. Around the world." She had no peace in her mind. Only needed something to fill in the ginormous gaps that were clearly forming.

"Piece of what?"

"Writing."

"Like a story?"

"Something like that."

"Got any good ones? "

Well…the once wary eye of the giant was looking at her with quite a bit of intrigue now.

"I certainly hope I do. Might you care to hear one?"

"I would," a voice shot up in the crowd, and another large entity stepped forward. Big John. His voice matched the one through the door last night, and his name matched his build. The man was a beast.

"All right, I can tell you all a tale."

"Sit over here," Big John patted a crate for her.

Though they might look like an unruly bunch, she supposed they still bore the mark of humanity, a curious soul. They were privateers after all.

"Which story are you going to tell? Better not be a love one."

"Shut up, Bruno," Sprat said, slapping Bruno on the back of the head. "She's the Captain's guest. Let her tell whatever tale she likes."

And that was how she found herself telling a love story, of which she had little to no firsthand knowledge, to a band of lethal privateers, all the while hoping that they would be more receptive to her stories than the last publisher she had submitted them to.