Nathaniel's Treasure. Sheri Lynn

      Chapter 1

       Thousands of pirates were active between 1650 and 1720, and these years are sometimes known as the ‘Golden Age’ of piracy.

      Standing on land again felt incredible. Though Priscilla had no regrets regarding her decision to sneak onto the ship captained by her father, she missed the ground beneath her feet every day. They had been sailing almost two weeks, and even though they stopped in Nassau, she couldn’t persuade him to let her leave the ship. Finally, today, he agreed. Though after many tears and pleas.

      A small twinge of remorse entered her thoughts. She knew he had to deal with her mother eventually. No one wanted that. The tongue lashing surely waiting for him when he returned home sent shivers down her spine. Her mother would berate and blame him for Priscilla’s defiance to her every move. She couldn’t remember a time her mother didn’t deride him for spoiling her too much and for encouraging her adventurous spirit.

      No one knew she had no plans to return. She hated Charles Town. She hated that life. Her days consisted of wearing uncomfortable clothing, answering the boring gentleman callers her mother paraded before her, followed by tense dinners consisting of arguments and pressure for her to behave as an officer’s daughter and to marry.

      If her mother could see her now, she would probably faint. The steady ripples of the ocean waves washed up on her feet, kissing her ankles. Finn, the escort her father sent with her, sat just inside a patch of sparse greenery, his back to her. Her father gave strict instructions. Finn mustn’t take her near the docks and remain as inconspicuous as possible.

      Finding this vacant beach adhered to all that, and being alone, she removed all her clothing except her shift. She twirled and skipped along the shoreline. The freedom she experienced in those few moments, made all the lies she told worth it. She cried and prayed for forgiveness each night. Each day it became more and more difficult to meet her father’s eyes. It entered her mind to use the opportunity he gave her that day to part ways with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She never wished to cause him any worry and heartache. Perhaps she should write him a letter when the time came. Maybe the thought of leaving him and all she knew behind frightened her and she had yet to admit it.

      And, she hated deceiving Gideon, the only suitor who did make her body tingle, in even her most private parts. Agreeing to accept his proposal after she returned was the only way to procure his assistance in getting her on the ship. Rumors of his sexual prowess circulated among the ladies. She had no doubt he would move on. A fanatical flirt, she couldn’t imagine him ever being faithful to one woman. And that fact didn’t bother her. She never planned to marry him.

      Gathering a few more shells, she looked back to Finn. Next to Finn’s slumped forward body, a wild man stood and stared directly at her. She didn’t know what to do. Check on Finn? Call for help? Run?

      It didn’t look like the wild one had a weapon drawn. He did have a huge sword hanging from his side, and a pistol on the other. The breeze blew his long brown hair across his sun-darkened face. Gold and gems glinted from his ears, wrists and hands when they caught the sunlight. Never had she known of a man wearing such adornments. He started towards her. She darted off down the beach.

      A few strides in, an arm wrapped around her middle, lifting her off her feet. The air left her lungs; she couldn’t draw in a breath to scream.

      “Where ya think you running off to, Angel? I saw you. I want you. I’ll take you.” He tightened his right arm around her, and using the other, fisted her hair, forcing her to look into his golden eyes. They were the lightest brown she ever saw, like the sunset over the open sea. “You like what you see, Miss?” he asked, in a deep, intimidating voice.

      As shocking as it was, she did. His shirt lay open baring his chest. She didn’t know if it lacked ties, or if he chose to wear it that way. He had a small patch of dark hair just above the waist of his trousers. Improper or not, she didn’t avert her gaze. She wondered if it continued lower.

      He tossed her over his shoulder and sauntered off away from the beach, toting her like a sack of wheat. Each step he took jarred her into his hard body.

      Realizing she regained the ability to speak, she twisted and