From Chapter 1
Manhandled and half-carried, the pirates dragged her aboard the other ship. The melee had been confined to Charlotte’s vessel, and it seemed better organized on the pirate boat, where men moved around as though they’d practiced the dance many times before.
There was a tall man giving orders from near the mainmast. He was armed with two old-fashioned pistols, one in a belt that crossed his chest, and one in his right hand. Just seeing his saturnine face, the fire-lightened deep blue of his eyes, and the arch of his thick brows gave Charlotte pause. A dark, well-groomed goatee with pointed beard surrounded his cruel lips. He wore a black tricorne hat with gold braid around the brim over his shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair, a long blue coat with gold braid and silver buttons, black knee breeches, and square-toed shoes with grey stockings gartered at the knee. He looked sinister, dangerous and like the stuff of nightmares. But there was still something about him that appealed to Charlotte, something that made her stare at him. Men of her own century were so much less intimidating. This man, this pirate, looked like someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. And, in fact, Charlotte wondered if she could make herself say no to anything he might demand. She was conflicted by her contrary interest in the man and the knowledge that he was a scary figure in what was fast becoming a nightmare.
Men around him deferred to him, shouting their questions and receiving low-voiced commands in return.
When a man ran in Charlotte’s direction, the pirate caught a look at her. He waved a hand and her two captors dragged her, kicking and fighting, toward him.
“Cap’n, we caught ourselves a prize. This one’s a fighter, she is. Nearly bit me. But we know yer orders about beating women, so we didn’t do nothin’ but hold ‘er tighter.”
“Let me go!” Charlotte demanded.
The captain nodded, and Tinker pushed her down to her knees and let her go.
Thrilled to have her arms freed, Charlotte rubbed her bruises while she glared at the pirate who stood way, way up there as she knelt at his feet. She tried to scramble up, but Tinker pushed her back down with a growl.
“Damn it…Ouch!” A pinprick between Charlotte’s brows confused her. She tried again to stand. “Damn it…” Another pinprick. Finally, she got the idea. Romantek imposed accuracy on the language used in a RAVE. “Scum!” No pinprick. So, she had to speak in their old English. “Unhand me. I will not be your captive!”
“But you are,” he said, his lips turning up at the corners as though he was amused. “You are aboard my vessel, surrounded my men loyal to me, and soon, the ship you sailed on will be at the bottom of the sea. You are mine and I will do what I want with you.”