River of Dreams Book III: Pirate's Wench

PIRATE”S WENCH

By

Myra Nour

© copyright by Myra Nour, September 2009

Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, September 2009

ISBN 978-1-60394-365-x

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

An ear-splitting whistling sound blasted by her head and caused the hair escaping her ponytail to whip around madly. The smell of sulfur and blood, mingled with the hoarse cries of fighting men swept through the pristine air.

Sarah blinked. What a dream. She watched through dazed eyes as men savagely chopped at each other with swords. The brittle sound of metal grated on her nerves, sending a shiver down her back. No finesse here, just pure brute force.

It finally filtered through her senses that savage looking pirates were attacking men wearing some type of uniforms. The blue frock coats worn over the white pants and shirts were crisp, and made the pirates look scummy by comparison. A soldier fell at her feet. The dark red stain spreading across his chest looked like a crimson vest. He stared up at her and she started to kneel, but then his eyes glazed over. He was dead.

Beside, kneeling wouldn’t have been that easy. She stared down at the beautiful dress she was wearing, fingering the fine brocade. Early eighteenth century she estimated. The only reason she knew that was she had recently searched period costumes to rent a gown for a costume ball.

The rich gold color was splattered with red. She didn’t like the way this dream was going. Sarah pinched her arm, yet didn’t awaken.

A new sound pierced the deafening noises around

her -– the tap, tap, tap, of fencing pares’. Glancing around, she spotted the source of the noise. Two men were thrusting at each other with great skill. By the gold braid and epaulets on his uniform, she thought one was an officer. His back was to her and she couldn’t see his opponent at this angle, but then they moved sideways.

Sarah gasped. A very handsome pirate fenced with the officer, and with his tricorn hat, she guessed him to be the Captain. They moved back and forth across the slippery deck, executing a dance of fine swordsmanship.

She watched in breathless wonder. This was better than being front seat at any sporting event. It seemed so real, for the action about her was horrifying, yet also exciting.

Barely noticing the other players in the fierce battle, she kept her eyes on the two fencing duelists. After several more minutes, the pirate Captain lunged forward, knocking aside the officer’s guard, and the long, sharp sword pierced the poor man’s chest. She looked aside for a few seconds. Dream or no dream, that was too realistic.

She glanced back up. The Captain had finished with the officer and was looking around for more prey. She shivered when his gaze landed on her. He grinned, making him more impossibly handsome, and then he started toward her.

Whipping her head about, she sought an escape route. There was none; this was a ship. Watching him step over dead bodies, Sarah realized how silly that idea was -–meeting a daring pirate had been her dream for years.

“Well, lass, do you see anything you like?”