"Ric loves the ladies, always has. I, myself, am not susceptible to his sweet talk, but I understand he has quite a way about him with the 'skirts.'"

Jocelyn frowned at the floor. Was she just another "skirt?" Was he kissing a different woman in every port? No wonder he cast her aside. What would he need with her? For goodness' sake, she had to tie the man to a chair to get him to kiss her. She rubbed the ache between her eyebrows.

"But if you have feelings for him, I wouldn't fret." Tupper continued. Leviticus even added a squawk of agreement. "You've got as much of a chance as any of them. I mean, no one's tied him down yet."

"They probably used the wrong knot." Jocelyn muttered.

Chapter 15.

Ric held tight to the ship's wheel. Winds had picked up over night and the few sails they had furled, bowed against a cloudless sky. The rigging started to sing.

He was tired, but that's what comes from sleepless nights lying in a hammock, listening to MacTavish snore like a wounded bear. When his mind won't still and all he can think about is a kiss.

Jocelyn's kiss.

How many women had he kissed in his lifetime? Try as he might, he couldn't remember one who left him in such a state. He'd never be able to coil a rope or rig a buntline again without thinking of Jocelyn and that singular amazing kiss.

"Captain?"

Ric couldn't get over the softness of her lips, and the quiet little whimper she made when he'd slipped his tong-- "Captain?"

MacTavish bellowed. "Oh, Captain...Ric, hey! He's talkin' to you." He pointed up to Dowd in the crow's-nest.

Ric gave himself a quick shake and raised a hand to shade his eyes. "What is it?"

Dowd pointed off to the starboard. "Ship coming at us."

"Who is it?"

"Can't make her out from here," called Dowd. "Be a frigate flyin' a Dutch flag."

MacTavish handed Ric the captain's eyeglass. "Could be de Graaf."

"Bit too east for him," Ric held the cool brass to his eye. "Whoever it is, she's headed right for us." He lowered the glass. "Shit."

MacTavish took a look for himself. "We could outrun her."

"To where?" Ric swallowed hard. "No. Let's tell her who we are. We need to raise all the red sails we can manage. And the black bones. Show them we're the Scarlet Night." He called up to Dowd. "Get down here, I need you." To MacTavish he ordered, "Find Hornbach and Bump. I need everybody on deck."

"Aye, Capt'n."

Jocelyn, Tupper, and her newly attached feathered friend came on deck. Ric shouted to them. "Tupper, I need you in the riggin,' if you're able. We've got company."

"Right," Tupper stopped long enough to set Leviticus into the well of a coil of rope for safe keeping before obeying his order.

"What can I do?" called Jocelyn.

"Get below." Ric rushed to the rail, loosened a line from one of the belay pins and strung it through the ships wheel to keep the Scarlet continuing on due course without a helmsman.

He slid down the ladder to the main deck and ordered White and Summer to help with the mainsail as well.

"You need me." Jocelyn followed him as he raced toward the bow. "I can help."

Ric stopped and caught her by the shoulders. "You can help, by staying out of the way. I don't need to be worrying about you." He turned her and pushed her toward the hatch. "Go below."

Looking to starboard, the oncoming ship was getting larger. If they got close enough to attack, they were all dead.

It was crazy, but he had an idea. "Dowd!" Ric stomped sharply on the deck twice. He got Bump's attention too. He motioned to them. "Hats. Find me all the hats you can. There are more than a dozen still sitting in the crew quarters. Bring them here."

"Hornbach," Ric grabbed the man's sleeve as he descended the rigging and his boots hit the deck. "How many cabbages do you have in the larder?"

"Bout twenty, I guess. Why?"

Ric gave his shoulder a shove. "Go get them."

Hornbach stumbled. "We be makin' them cabbage stew?"

"Go." Ric spun about to find MacTavish. He was right behind him.

"What are you getting to?"

Ric planted his hands on his hips. "We're attacking."

MacTavish's jaw went slack. "Are you out of ye bloody mind?"

"No, in fact...White, lower the black and raise the red. Tell 'em we'll give no quarter. It's a fight to the death."

"It'll be a death, all right, ours." MacTavish pulled at Ric's arm. "We can't be fighting a God damn frigate. It's suicide."

"Swords." Ric pulled MacTavish's hand off his arm. "I need twenty of your longest, broadest swords."

Within minutes all his orders had been carried out--all but one. Jocelyn had defied him and was helping Dowd and Bump carry some of the late crew's hats to him. He didn't have time to argue with her. If she wanted to risk her neck with the rest of them on deck, so be it.

MacTavish dropped an armload of swords at Ric's feet. "They're dull as a deadman's eye, some got more rust than blade."

"Don't worry, we aren't fighting with them." Ric grabbed one of the swords, and stabbed it deep into a head of cabbage.

"We flinging rotting cabbage instead of cannon shot at them?" White asked.

Ric lifted the leafy green head stuck on a pike and shoved a hat on top. "No, we're building a crew."

To Jocelyn he ordered, "If you won't listen to reason and get below, then take your rope training skills and lash each of our new crew members somewhere about the deck."

They all stood in stunned silence. "Go! We're the Scarlet Night. We've never run from a fight. We're the attackers. So let's attack. Mac, you and Summer, I need the starboard cannons loaded and primed as fast as you can. I'll man the forward gun and send a shot over their bow to let them know we're coming. We'll only get one round of shot off the starboard side. If they keep on, we won't have time to reload before they return fire, but I'm hoping it doesn't go that far."

"All we have to do is make them think we're the aggressor. Our reputation will hopefully do the rest." Ric stabbed another cabbage. "We haven't got much time. If this is going to work, we can't let them get too close."

The crew scrambled to do Ric's bidding. He headed into the bow and took position at his gun.

The sound of her heart rushed in Jocelyn's ears. They were attacking? The memory of their ship being captured by the slave traders swirled about her. The decks had been in chaos then as well. However, their crew had not been made of cabbage, but real men with real blood which ran bright and red over the deck boards. It was as terrifying then as it was now.

She made short work of tying off each sword as quickly as she could. One of the swords hadn't been quite as dull as MacTavish had claimed. The blade sliced into her palm. She hadn't even felt the cut until she saw the blood dripping onto the rope she was attempting to tie. Tearing a strip off the hem of her skirt, she wrapped it around the wound to stop the flow.

"This be the sickliest looking crew I've ever seen," piped Tupper. "I've got another idea." She rushed off to the galley and returned with potatoes, carrots, small turnip and bits of charcoal from the fire. Tupper sent Dowd down into the carpenter's bay for some cut nails. While she waited, she dug shallow holes with her knife into the cabbage and stuffed each one with a lump of charcoal before using the carrot tops for hair. Once the nails arrived, she broke the carrot in half and nailed it to the face.

They all followed suit, giving their vegetable crew crude features. Jocelyn thought to do it one better. Borrowing Tupper's knife, she cut at her hair. Now some of their crew had mustaches and beards and dark curls falling from under their borrowed hats. It may only have bought them a few more feet before their opponents realized it was all a sham, but a few feet could mean the difference between life and death.

Jocelyn finished lashing the last of their makeshift army on to one of the barrels sitting upon the deck when the blast from the forward cannon drove her to her knees. She covered her head with her arms.

Those members of the crew without carrots and turnip for noses set up an ungodly howl. They screamed and pounded on whatever was within their reach. Jocelyn rose from the deck and tried to imagine what an entire ship full of pirates must sound like during their battle cry. It must have been frightening.

"They're not retreating," Tupper came to stand at Jocelyn's side. "This is not going to end well."

"What else can we do?" A cold finger of fear clawed down Jocelyn's spine.

Tupper pulled her cutlass and handed it to Jocelyn. "If they board, start swinging as if your life depends on it--because it will."

Jocelyn tried to hand it back. "I can't take your sword."

"I have my pistols." She pulled them both from her baldric and cocked the hammers. "Trust me, if they overtake us, it won't make a difference. Nine cannot fight more than eighty men. We'll just be buying time before they kill us."

Kill us? Jocelyn's hands began to shake. "W-we could surrender."

Tupper smiled then. A dangerous, chilling smile. "This is the Scarlet Night. We never surrender."

"Shit," Ric peered through the smoke from his cannon. The shot cleared the other ship's bow as planned, but the Dutch frigate kept coming. He left his position in the front of the ship and moved toward the other swivel gun in the rear.

Passing MacTavish and Summer, Ric bid them, "Light the quick match and be prepared to fire all five cannons on my command as quickly as you can."

In the midst of the chaos and noise. Ric searched the deck for Jocelyn. When he spotted her, he was shocked to see she'd torn her skirts and tucked the flagging hem into her belt. There was blood on her stockings and what had she done to her hair? In one hand she was holding a cutlass and looking for all the world like a pirate poised to fight.

Never in all his imaginings would he have envisioned her swinging a sword in the middle of a battle, but there she was, ready to do just that.

He wasn't going to allow it to happen. She wasn't going to fight, and she wasn't going to die. Not while he still had breath in his body. Even if he had to fight an entire frigate of Dutch pirates singlehanded.

Ric angled the rear cannon and took aim.

A round of cannon fire from the frigate overshot the Scarlet. They wouldn't make the same mistake again. Ric lit the fuse and fired a pinpoint shot, which shattered the other ship's bowsprit.

Hollering back to MacTavish and Summer, he order them to level the guns and aim above the frigate's waterline. What should have been one ferocious blast from all five cannon at once, was more a staccato-ed attack. But the effect was no less damaging.

The Dutch ship lurched and angled as seawater poured into great gaping holes in her side. Her speed dragged to a shuddering halt as the hull filled, dragging her over. The full sails continued to pull the sinking ship until the force snapped the main mast like a dried twig. The frigate began its death roll.

A cheer rose amongst the tiny Scarlet crew. Ric slumped against the rail. They'd won the day. As a forward gunner, when a battle was won, Ric would ride the wave of invigorated triumph for hours afterward, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

As captain, the weight of responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders. It wasn't enough to win. It was bringing his men--and women--through the fight, and keeping the ship beneath their feet from sinking into the waves or being overtaken by their foes. It wasn't invigorated triumph he was feeling at this moment, it was more akin to blessed relief.

He dropped his head, closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Damn it. His first victory as captain and all he could smell was cabbage.

Chapter 16.

Jocelyn's hands shook as she raised the lantern's wick. Her tiny sliver of a room being part of the forward hold was dark as night in the middle of the day. Water rushed past the hull as the Scarlet Night seemed to leap with victory. The wooden beast creaked and popped in its race across the waves. Their battle was over, and they were the victors.

She curled into her cot, trembling, weeping. It had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life--as well as one of the most glorious, exciting things she'd ever done.

The wave of each blast coursed through her entire being when the cannons exploded, turning her legs to porridge, and punching through her heart. Deafening noise and the unexpected thrill of danger--it took her breath away. Had she ever experienced anything as awe inspiring?

"Jocelyn? Are you in there?" Ric pounded on the narrow door. "Jocelyn, let me in."

In one seemingly single motion, she opened the door to him and was swept into his arms. He held her tight to his chest as sobs wracked her body. Before she knew it, they were in a tangle on the floor.

"Are you hurt? When I couldn't find you...Oh God, don't cry." He wiped at her cheeks, ran his hands over her legs. "There's blood on your stockings. Your hand is wounded." His hands cradled her face. "Your hair, what have you done to your beautiful hair?"

"I-I gave it to you." How could she explain that whatever she possessed belonged to him? Her hair, her heart, her body. She gave it all freely. He'd saved her that day in Port Royal. In more ways than one. She'd never be the same. He'd changed her and the course of her life forever. Lifted her up to fate. Whether he wanted her or not, she was his, and always would be.

He laid a kiss to her forehead and pulled her back against his chest. "Foolish woman, what have you done?"

She'd given him her heart. Fallen in love. How would she find the courage to tell him? Perhaps it would be easier to show him.

Jocelyn brushed the tears from her face as she raised herself to look into his handsome face. She could read the concern in his eyes. Running her fingers over the planes of his face, she traced the outline of his lips before lowering her mouth to his.

She pressed her lips to his. He stiffened beneath her. Still she kissed him until he began to kiss her in return. She trailed her hand down his throat to slip it inside the open front of his shirt to touch him. Feel the strength of his chest. Skip her fingertips across the flat of his nipple. She laid her palm over the steady beat of his heart.

His tongue swept her mouth as he deepened the kiss. The low moan he made in his throat only spurred her on. She wanted to touch all of him, and have him touch her. Make love to her. Claim her.

Jocelyn placed his hand over her breast, holding it there, arching into his hold, urging him on, but it wasn't enough.

Breaking the kiss, she pulled her arms from the sleeves of her shirt and lifted it over her head before tossing it to one side. Naked to her waist, she placed his hand upon her breast once more. The roughness of his palm against the sensitive peak of her tightened nipple made her sigh against his lips before she returned to kissing him.