The Bride of Blackbeard Read Online Free

Relief flooded her body when her hand grasped the cold
steel of the knife she’d hidden.
    William, Katrina?
    With both hands she searched in the dark for
her siblings, sighing when she felt their warm, soft skin. Both
snored softly despite the despicable surroundings. They had started
the voyage with fifty men, women and children and now thirty
remained. By her calculations, they’d been tossed to and fro at sea
for one hundred days, with approximately twenty more to go.
    Will’s Sheep dog snuggled peacefully at his
side. She thought it highly unusual that they’d been permitted
passage for the dog. More than likely, she reasoned, it was because
the seamen would probably kill and devour him if grave
circumstances arose.
    I do not want to dream again. I am not sure
which is worse, being home in the past or here on this rubbish
vessel.
    Quietly standing, she stole away from the
sleeping trio, and headed again for fresh air. During the day, she
was able to make peace with her woeful upbringing, but at night the
wars battled on inside her damaged mind.
    As she made her way up the ladder, a pair of
legs dangled into the hole—pretty, shapely legs—which was most
likely the reason why this person was being permitted to take this
perch by the most dishonorable seamen—so that they might enjoy the
view.
    Of course, she knew the girl—like she knew
everyone below deck now. Her name was Amelia and she was traveling
to the Carolinas with her parents in hope of making a new
start.
    “Allo, Amelia. Couldn’t sleep either?”
    “No. I come up here most every night to get
a bit of the breeze, and the boys, they never tell me to go...”
    “No, I do not expect they do.” Constanza
leaned over and whispered, “A young lady as beautiful as you ought
to be careful around sailors starved of female attention.”
    Amelia blushed, tossing a long curl over her
shoulder. “You really think I am beautiful?”
    Clearly, the meaning of the entire
conversation, what Constanza was trying to convey, was lost to this
girl. Amelia was about Katrina’s age and they’d become fast
friends. Both were fifteen, beautiful and obsessed with men and
finding husbands.
    Due to an unusual upbringing, Constanza had
very little use for men. Since the age of twelve, her father had
trained her to become a surgeon’s assistant. As such, she’d
witnessed more births, deaths, illnesses and plague than any female
she’d ever known. Her mother had been interested in herbology—what
some folks referred to as a natural healer. When Constanza’s father
found standard medicinal therapies ineffective, he would often
consult with his wife as to what herbs had what properties to
assist his problem patients.
    Their entire small yard in Bristol had
housed a tremendous herb garden, which Stanzy had been expected to
learn, and had. She’d shouldered the burdens of the family instead
of her mother, who’d spent her entire life trying to keep her
family together despite her husband’s drinking. Although her mother
was decidedly weak, Stanzy had once asked her, near the end of her
life, why she’d stayed. Her mother’s chilling answer was one that
rang in her ears to this very day.
    “Where would we have gone, child?”
    Constanza’s only meaningful relationship
with a man of substance had been her mother’s brother, Delvin
Ellwood Channing. Uncle Delvin had given her advice since the time
she was old enough to walk.
    He’d arranged this journey for all of them.
She could still see her dear uncle’s hands shake as he perused the
list of debts her father had hidden from her. He’d presided over
the sale of their manor to keep her from debtor’s prison, and her
siblings from the workhouse.
    Another flip of Amelia’s blonde curls
brought Constanza out of her reverie. The girl was peering around
at the few seamen who were awake and smiling fetchingly at
them.
    Constanza shivered at the sexual tension on
the deck. “Amelia, do you remember the women who were