WITHIN A CAPTAIN'S POWER
by Lisa Olech
PUB DATE: 4/4/2017
Genre: Historical Romance
Never underestimate the power of a pirate . . .
Captain James Steele is duty bound to capture the privateer Scarlet Night and bring her rebellious crew to England to hang. Then he will leave his majesty’s service, make an upstanding marriage, and join the landed gentry. But the winds of fate are blowing the straitlaced commander utterly off course.
Once aboard, James comes face to face with a pirate boy who is in reality fierce, desperate—and gorgeous—Samantha Christian, on the run from a sadistic Virginia plantation owner. With her identity unbound, the good captain dutifully takes her under his personal command, whereupon decorum goes out the porthole. But while his heart is lost to Samantha by the time they reach England, her noose still awaits. Now James’s sense of duty will be severely tested. As for Samantha, she has a plan, and a duty, of her own . . .
Pleasant Ridge, Virginia — 1715
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“I’m buying myself some time.” Samantha Christian whispered behind her fan.
“You’re buying yourself another beating.” Her companion, Rebecca Whitmore, whispered back.
“As long as I know it will be the last, Wessler can do his worst.”
The air in the Whitmore’s ballroom was stifling. The room was packed with an overabundance of Virginia’s beautifully dressed elite. Plantation owners with their gossiping wives and pampered daughters wearing their latest Parisian fashions. Political bigwigs vying for attention, and high-ranking British military in crisp, sharp uniforms. All these, and Samantha—in the ill-fitting, cast-off gown of Damian Wessler’s deceased wife. She did her best to blend into the silk damask wallpaper. A mighty challenge wearing the color puce.
It was the annual harvest ball. An anticipated favorite in the surrounding community. It would be social suicide not to attend, which is why Wessler agreed to allow Samantha to come, even though he despised her burgeoning friendship with Isabelle Whitmore and her daughter Rebecca.
“Fine. We’ll go. But I won’t be spending my money on some foolish new gown. One of Marlene’s will do.” He snatched at her upper arm and gripped it viciously. Samantha shook with the effort not to cry out. “And if I catch you talking to those blasted Whitmore bitches, or you
embarrass me in the slightest way, you’ll live to regret it.” He spit between his clenched teeth.
It was his favorite expression. “You’ll live to regret it.” There was much Samantha regretted, but it did her little good to go back and try to undo what had already been done. Her only other option was to put her plan in action to leave the vile prison she found herself in, regardless of the unavoidable risk to her health. Wessler’s beating tonight would happen whether she followed his strict dictate or not. She might as well earn it honestly.
Samantha fanned at her cheeks. She and Rebecca stood tucked in amongst the huge floral arrangements decorating the room. Magnolias and dogwood perfumed the space. She caught Wessler glaring at them from across the room and massaged the nauseous pitch and roll of her stomach with gloved fingers.
“Mother has sent word, but if the Scarlet Night has moved on from their hiding place...” Rebecca clutched at Samantha’s wrist. Pale eyes, wide with concern, met hers.
Samantha smiled, trying to reassure the girl. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take.” She closed her fan with a snap, kissed Rebecca’s cheek, and shot a defiant smile in Damian Wessler’s direction. “Now, why don’t you introduce me to the handsome Captain Steele?”
Captain James Steele of the Royal British Navy was among the guests at tonight’s ball. He cut a dashing figure in his dress uniform of navy and cream. Broad shoulders filled his gold-trimmed coat. Brass buttons winked in the flicker of the hundreds of candles lighting the room. He wore no wig, choosing to club his hair. The color was a rich auburn that shone to a light ginger in the candlelight. It made the blue of his eyes all the more striking. Taller than the majority, he was by far the most noticeable man in the room.
After the proper introductions, he swept her onto the dance floor. “Have you lived in Virginia long, Mistress Christian?”
Her gaze darted from Wessler’s livid glare to the handsomeness of Captain Steele. “Six months. However, it feels more like six years.”
He grinned. The curve of his mouth revealed a slight dimple in his left cheek. “Do you miss your home so much?”
“I do, and my family most of all.” She tried to concentrate on the steps of the dance and boost her fortitude.
“I, as well, but soon I’ll happily set sail with orders bringing me back to England. I’m looking forward to autumn in Weatherington.”
“Weatherington? Is that where you’re from?” She dared another glance in Wessler’s direction. His glower caused her to falter and step on the captain’s polished boot. “I-I grew up not too far from there in South Oxbridge.”
Captain Steele never missed a beat. “You don’t say. I know South Oxbridge well.” He spun her to the music before dipping his head and dropping his voice almost to a whisper. “I must warn you, my lady, there is a gentleman standing off my port side who has the most disagreeable scowl directed at us.”
Samantha could almost feel Wessler’s eyes burning holes through her back. She forced a grin. “Does he resemble an overfed hound dog in a wig?” The captain threw back his head and laughed. The sound warmed her clear through and somehow gave her a necessary measure of courage. “Why, yes, now that you mention it, there is something a bit hound dog about him. Who is he? A suitor perhaps? An overprotective uncle? By his
expression, perhaps he is your betrothed?”
She lifted her gaze from his pristine silk neckcloth. The Captain’s eyes were impossibly blue. They were the sky on a brilliant summer afternoon. “No, he is not my betrothed. He is more my jailer.”
Captain Steele laughed again. “Isn’t that somewhat the same thing?” “Spoken like a man who is either terminally single or unhappily betrothed.”
“Betrothed, but not unhappily. Impatient. I’m to be wed as soon as I return to England.”
Samantha blinked at the quick rush of unexpected disappointment. “Congratulations, Captain. Your fiancée is a lucky woman indeed.”
“Thank you. Lillian is lovely. We’re well matched.” “Will you wed in Weatherington?”
“Unfortunately, no. Lillian lives in London. She does not share my love of the country. A bit too rustic for her tastes.”
“I’m a true country girl, I’m afraid,” Samantha lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, “but I’ve always longed to see London.”
His rust-tinged brows rose. “You didn’t sail from there?”
“No, Portsmouth.” Turning once more in the dance, Samantha caught Wessler heading toward them, only to be intercepted by one of the other local plantation owners. He acknowledged the man with a civilized nod. The tolerant set of his jaw told Samantha he’d been caught in conversation. He shot her another dark scowl.
Lisa A. Olech is an artist/writer living in her dream house nestled among the lakes in New England. She loves getting lost in a steamy book, finding the perfect pair of sexy shoes, and hearing the laughter of her men. Being an estrogen island in a sea of testosterone makes her queen. She believes in ghosts, silver linings, the power of a man in a tuxedo, and happy endings.