"As quick as you can," he whispered, shaking the dirt from her skirts and handing them to her. He put a finger to his lips. Drawing his knife from its sheath, he moved toward the opposite end of the cave.

Jocelyn strained to hear anything past the pounding of her heart. Ric was back before she finished slipping into her shoes.

"I count five. Narrow sloop. We haven't much time. Without my pistols, we're no match for them, but there may be a way."

He rushed to the pile of goods, and grabbing handfuls of coins tossed them amongst the scattering of jewelry from last night. Grabbing a short barrel of liquor, he wrenched out the bung from its side with his knife and dumped a good amount of rum near where they had slept.

With an armful of items scooped from several trunks, he headed out of the cave the way they had entered last night. "Follow me. Stay close."

As they moved through, items fell from his arms, and Ric dropped fistfuls of coins as if laying a trail. Once out of the cave he spoke, "Get yourself hidden." He pointed to a crop of bushes. "I'll be right back."

Jocelyn clutched at his sleeve. "Where are you going?"

"Need to give our visitors a wild goose to chase. Stay down and keep quiet." He must have sensed the panic she was feeling, because he dipped his head and planted a quick kiss upon her lips before he told her not to worry and nudged her toward the hiding spot.

Jocelyn did what he asked alternating furtive glances back toward the cave and down the path where Ric had disappeared. After what seemed like a year, Ric ducked in next to her panting. Sweat glistened across his chest.

"Now we wait," he huffed. "If they take the bait, they'll be chasing after the skiff.

"Chasing the skiff?" Jocelyn tried to follow his thinking.

"Aye," he whispered. "I cut it loose."

"But, the skiff is the only way to escape."

He shot her an impish grin. "Not the only way."

"I don't under--" Sudden shouts and yelling could be heard coming from the low entrance to the cave. Ric covered her mouth with his hand, pulled her to him and murmured against her ear. "Trust me?"

His voice rumbled through her and settled in her thighs. She nodded behind his hand. His breath tickled the side of her throat before he kissed that tender spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. Her nipples tightened.

"Went this a-way!" The call sounded close.

Jocelyn could only gasp as Ric pulled her lower, crouching out of sight.

"Fire still be warm."

"Drank half a head o' rum."

"Can't be far ahead."

"Looks te be, he left in a hurry."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Jocelyn prayed to become invisible as she heard the men thrash their way through the underbrush.

"Back to the cave," hissed Ric as he stood and pulled her to her feet. "Fast as you can. Don't stop. Don't look back. Go." He gave her a small shove.

She could still hear the other men's voices. If they should see them... Scrambling into the low entrance, she heard the first gun shot.

Ric was right behind her. "Move, move, move."

Once inside, he grabbed her arm. "Go to the far end of the cave and wait for me. I'll be right there." He let her go and rushed to drag the larger of the chests back to block the entrance.

She raced past the pool. The morning sunlight shafted into the water turning it a brilliant aquamarine. Had she not been running for her life, she would have stopped to gaze. Instead, she followed the glow coming from deeper in the cave.

The floor began a steady slope downward. The glow grew brighter until at last she reached the end. This side of the cave was markedly different from the other. Where the north side of this place led in from a wide pale beach, this coast mirrored the mainland with its craggy landscape separated by what looked to be a deep channel.

Below her, a ship sat anchored close to shore, planks lowered from its rails balanced on a slender shelf of flat land. With its white hull, it nearly glowed in the sunlight of the morning.

It was small compared to the Scarlet Night. Tiny compared to that Dutch Frigate. With no knowledge of ships, she couldn't begin to guess what kind it was, but with its single mast, the ship sat like a life-saving beacon on the water. Not waiting for Ric, Jocelyn began the steep scramble down to the precarious ramp.

One step onto the wide planks had them tipping beneath her weight. She looked down between the crude boards. Water ebbed and flowed around more rocks. It wasn't a long fall, but it was not one she wanted to make. Closing her eyes and lifting a prayer, she ran.

Jocelyn dropped down onto the cluttered deck. Ropes, wood, and broken barrels were trashed about. A huge cargo bay hatch took up most of the deck area. She shot a glance back hoping to see Ric behind her. He wasn't there. Worry for him choked her, but she didn't have time to dwell on the possibility he'd been captured. He'd be there. She trusted him.

Finding the anchor chain, Jocelyn was stymied for a moment. The device attached to raise and lower the anchor was nothing like the Scarlet's capstan. It more resembled a toothed, geared spool. She grabbed the iron handle on the side and pulled before realizing she was working it in reverse.

It took all her strength to push the wheel in the opposite direction. Sweat ran between her shoulder blades as the gear inched forward.

"Jocelyn." Ric called out to her.

She stopped only long enough to shout back. "Get on."

The anchor began to lift. The faster she pushed the mechanism, it seemed to double its effort. Jocelyn could sense the ship starting to move with the wind.

"Hold fast." Ric called as he closed in on the ramp. He threw a wrapped bundle across the span to land on the deck.

"I don't know how to stop?" She cried.

Looking back, Ric had begun to cross the planking, but the ship was sliding away. He jumped as the planks lost their hold and fell to the rocks below.

The ship picked up more speed. Jocelyn locked the gear before rushing to the rail.

Ric hung off the side of the ship.

"Oh God," Jocelyn reached over the rail. "Grab my hand."

Ric shook his head and held tight, shooting an anxious look down the side of the ship. "Find the tiller. Hurry. Steer us to port. Away from the rocks."

"You'll fall." She pulled on his sleeve.

He made another nervous glance forward. "I won't, but if we hit the rocks..."

"I don't know what a tiller is," she cried.

"The stick. In the stern. To steer the rudder. Shove it hard to the right. Damn it, hurry."

Jocelyn raced back to the ship's tiller and swung the bow toward the middle of the channel as she willed Ric to use the strength of those muscled arms of his to pull himself up and over the rail.

Angry shouts sounded from the entrance of the cave followed closely by pistol shots. Splinters from the top of the rail, near where Ric still hung, exploded before showering the deck.

"Get down, Jocelyn!" Ric yelled over the gunfire, but instead she turned the ship to position it away from the firing.

When the pirates at the mouth of the cave could no longer get a clear shot at Ric, they turned their pistols on her. A whistling past her ear had her dropping to the deck with a scream.

The sound must have spurred Ric to a final surge of strength because the next thing she knew he was by her side.

"Are you hit?" His hands tugged at her clothing. Was he looking for blood?

"No, are you?" Jocelyn gripped handfuls of his shirt.

Ric ducked as another shot exploded from shore before chipping the mast. "Stay down 'til we're out of range. He poked his head up only long enough to steer the ship back to starboard.

"Hey! What the fuck ye think yer doin'?" A man sporting a stained headcloth was marching toward them. He wore soiled pants which were torn short at the hems. His bare feet were filthy. An oily leather vest covered his top half. Or most of the top half that wasn't hanging out or decorated with inked markings. A wide leather belt held his scabbard.

"Bloody hell..." Ric looked back at Jocelyn and shrugged. "I missed one."

Standing, Ric spread his arms wide. "Takin' 'er for a ride."

"I don't fuckin' think so." The pirate advancing on him moved to draw his sword, but in the second it took him to lay his hand on the hilt and start to pull the steel from the sheath, Ric rushed him, balled his fist and smashed it into the man's jaw.

The pirate spun, staggered a step and dropped to his knees, cradling his face. Ric kept advancing. Grabbing the man by the shoulder of his vest, Ric dragged him to his feet shoving him viciously toward the rail, and in one swift movement, grabbed the man's breeches at the hip and used his momentum to flip him over the railing.

Jocelyn covered her mouth as she heard the man hit the water. Ric was soon back at her side to help her up.

Behind them, the others still fired and hurled curses at them.

"You can get up. They can't hit us now." He cupped her check. "Are you okay?"

"Did you hurt your hand?" She pulled his hand away to examine it. Her head was spinning. How could he use the same hand that moments ago crushed a man's cheek to hold hers with aching gentleness? "You split your knuckle."

"It's fine. Need to be checkin' below. Make sure no more are hiding. Then we can set all the cloth on this tub and get us back to the Scarlet Night."

"We did it." She breathed a shaky sigh. Amazement and adrenaline rushed through her, making her tremble.

Ric threw his head back and crowed. "We bloody well did." He pulled her against his chest and crushed her to him. "You do realize what you've done?"

She shook her head, unable now to control the chattering of her teeth.

Ric smiled down at her. "You stole a blasted boat."

"W-wasn't that the plan?" She could only blink at him.

"My plan, yes, but you didn't know that. And I never imagined you'd do the thieving." He kissed her then. Crushed his mouth against hers. Stealing her breath from her. "But next time, love, do me a favor? Wait another minute for me to get my arse on board?"

"I'll do my best."

Chapter 22.

"What the hell did ya do wit the skiff?" MacTavish asked as soon as Ric's feet hit the deck of the Scarlet Night.

Ric turned and lifted Jocelyn the last few feet of the boarding ladder. "We traded it."

"Building yer fleet already?" piped Summer.

White laughed. "Starting small, are ye?"

"Devil's Pearl? That ain't no fit name for a ship." Dowd was looking like he tasted something rank.

MacTavish stood shaking his head. "Devil's Shite be more fittin.' She's a bloody mess."

"Bit of scrape, she'll be fit. Good line to her." Hornbach argued.

Dowd brightened, "Ye could call her Robbins Nest...get it?" MacTavish cuffed his ear.

"Isn't my ship. The Devil's Pearl belongs to its rightful owner. The one which takes it, keeps it. And she can name her whatever she wishes." Ric jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Jocelyn.

Had he not already loved the woman, what she did on the island--last night and this morning--endeared her to him forever.

She'd been fearless, daring, loving.

There was no one quite like her. Certainly, there were women in his world who were fierce and courageous, but Jocelyn's bravery came from something inherent, pure. Her upbringing should have made her timid and cautious, but not Jocelyn. In her, he saw a hunger and an honesty, which made her extraordinary.

And when he held her in his arms, that same hunger and honesty translated into a passion he'd never found in another's bed. He gave a small laugh. Could be he'd found the reasoning for such passion. The lack of a mattress. They'd yet to come together in an actual bed after all.

Last night went beyond beds and mattresses and his supposed prowess. He had wanted to satisfy her not to massage his bruised ego, but for her. Last night had been all about her. That thought alone left him amazed. When had he taken a woman and considered her desires ahead of his own? Never.

In turn, she came alive in his arms. Bloomed like a tropical flower after a rain. The way she moved, the taste of her skin, the sweet sounds of pleasure in her sighs, they had awoken something new in him.

But with this re-birth of sorts for Ric, came the crushing reminder of the futility of it all. She couldn't stay with him. Jocelyn deserved a beautiful, stunning future. Not one with him.

A pirate's life was an endless struggle to survive--battles, brutality, starvation, and the perils of a fickle sea. Not to mention the constant threat of being brought to justice for your crimes against crown and country.

Ric watched Jocelyn regale the others with the tale of how they managed to get away. In her torn, dusty skirts and dirt-smudged skin, she looked like a true pirate. Ric was all at once filled with pride and love and a longing for her which refused to be sated. But he also was struck with how wrong it was. She wasn't one of them. Jocelyn was too good for this. He refused to let her sink any further into becoming a watery thief.

Stealing a sloop was as far as Ric wanted to see Jocelyn's life of crime extend. He needed to see all of it come to an end, and soon.

"Another two days we'll be off the coast of Port de Prix." Ric confirmed. "We'll make good use of the sloop whatever her name. The Scarlet Night can hold back and Jocelyn and I can sail the Pearl through the needle's eye of Tortuga harbor."

"And ye had yer hands on all that treasure, and ye ain't brought us presents?" huffed MacTavish.