To Marry a Marauder

By Heather C. Myers

An action-packed historical romance filled with treasure hunts, sword fights, and forbidden romance!

At twenty years old, Brooke Cunningham should already be married to a wealthy older man of means, position, and power. Instead, she's refusing rouge and powder, sassing potential suitors, and staring out her window at the sea, wishing for something more.

Enter Captain Charlie Colt, a branded pirate with charm dripping from his lips the way rubies drip from Brooke's earrings.

Charlie seeks revenge on those who forced him into this life of crime and Brooke wants to escape from a life she has labeled as mundane.

When Brooke finds an old treasure map, Charlie recognizes its value, and they set off on an adventure in order to acquire it. But they aren't the only ones in search of the treasure. If they aren't careful, Brooke and Charlie could face the bottom of the sea, if the gallows don't claim them first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather C. Myers
• Release date: Oct 3, 2021

Heather C. Myers

Full disclosure: I am an acquired taste. I'm a typical blonde Orange County suburbanite who says 'like' more than necessary, laughs loud and probably obnoxiously, and loves to dance in the rain. I'm a 25 year old college graduate with more than a few tricks up my sleeve, and I also happen to be a pretty big Ducks fan. Oh, and I'm a writer. Like, for real.I recently signed with Anchor Group Publishing, which will see two of my series being published this year. I've self-published over 15 books, with more on the way, so I'm familiar with both a hybrid-traditional publishing method as well as self-publishing.I don't speak in third person (normally) nor do I wear glasses (except when I'm feeling particularly mischievous). I'm lucky to have found my soul mate at the ripe old age of 22, even though he frustrates me on purpose to get a reaction out of me. We live near Disneyland, have two rambunctious female puppies, and have a beautiful baby girl. He has two amazing boys, and has gotten me hooked on Smallville, watching soccer (okay, okay FOOTBALL - FC Barcelona, baby!), and Cancun Juice.

Book preview

Prologue

He stepped inside the large house, with two men dressed sharply in uniform, their faces unwavering and firm, following him. He, on the other hand, was dressed in more comfortable clothing; a white tunic, navy blue breeches, and tan boots. His commanding officer was not too pleased with his apparel, but given that he was one of the best captains around, the commanding officer seemed to make an exception for him. The men trailing behind him were also displeasing to the man; it felt as though he and the men were trying to intimidate their customers. If it was only himself going to meet and converse with the customers, he was sure they would feel much more comfortable, but that was an exception his commanding officer was not yet ready to make.

The butler of the house led him and his two shadows into a waiting room, and then left them to make tea. The two men sat down on the inviting couch, but he chose to remain standing, peering at the colorful paintings that hung on the wall. His long fingers caressed his chin as he looked at the paintings, curiosity rampant in his dark brown eyes. A small ship on a large, dark ocean during a lightning storm stared back at him. Whenever he visited Master Cunningham, this particular painting always caught his eye. The colors were dark, and yet they were vivid, and as the viewer, he could not help but hope that the ship managed to survive the storm and the wild sea. As a sailor, he had experienced his share of storms, but this mere painting seemed to etch itself permanently in his mind.

I like the rain, a voice said from beside him. He turned, only to see a young girl, no more than ten years old, standing next to him and peering at him with sea-green eyes. With a fashionable dress on, he was led to assume that she was the daughter of Master Cunningham. He watched her look back at the painting, and she tilted her head so she could look at it from a different angle. I like the sound of it right before I fall asleep. It is like a lullaby, and yet it comforts me more than my mother, singing me to sleep.

The rain does have a melodious sound to it, doesn’t it? he asked, glancing down at her. He was surprised at her subtle confession to him, and yet was fascinated by her level of thinking.

It does, she agreed, her eyes looking intently at the painting. This is my favorite painting in the whole house. Father asked if I wanted it placed in my room, but I told him I would rather have it here, so everyone may look upon it. She paused and looked up at him so that the two were locking eyes. You are here to see my father, she stated, changing the subject.

Yes I am, he concurred, nodding. You are a smart little thing, aren’t you?

I am not little, she said firmly, her eyes narrowing at him. What is your name?

Brooke Anne Cunningham! a man exclaimed from the entrance, his blue eyes unwavering as they stared at his daughter. Is that you I hear speaking in a very unladylike manner to our guests? Her father had his hands balled into fists, resting firmly on his hips, and he was tilting forward, waiting for her response. When she remained silent, he raised his brow. I do believe you owe him an apology, do you not?

Brooke turned back to the man before her and opened her mouth to do her father’s bidding when the man cut her off. That’s all right, Master Cunningham, he said in his low voice. He turned back to look at the young girl. My name is Charlie Colt, Miss Cunningham. It’s quite a pleasure to meet you; I’ve heard so much about you.

Brooke was about to respond to Charlie’s introduction, but once again she was interrupted, this time by her father. Come now, Charlie, he said, waving the captain and his two men over to him. We have business to discuss, do we not? Jarvis has tea waiting for us in the drawing room. With that, he left, Charlie’s men following him out the door.

Charlie turned back to the young Brooke Cunningham, her stare never wavering from him. It was a pleasure to meet you, he said with a smile.

She nodded and turned her attention back to the painting that had sparked their initial conversation. She could hear him leave the waiting room, but did not turn to watch him do so. As always when she looked at the painting, she was lost in the royal blue waves of the rolling sea, wishing that, even though danger was imminent for the small ship, she was aboard, feeling the rain fall heavily onto her comfortable clothing, her hair messy and unkempt, the thunder deafening her, the lightning blinding her, the adventure giving her the thrill of the life that she was currently sheltered from.

Charlie followed Master Cunningham down a long hallway and into his drawing room that was tucked safely away so that no prying ears would overhear any conversation that might take place. As promised, Jarvis had tea waiting for Master Cunningham, Charlie, and his men. Charlie took his seat, his heavily kohl-rimmed eyes scanning the room. Curtains hung over a large window causing shadows to cascade throughout the space. On the wall in front of him, there was a large, gaudy painting of a woman in the richest jewels, the boldest colors, the most fashionable clothing. It was such a contrast from the small, simple ship fighting against the storm. The woman in the painting was somehow related to the Cunningham family, but she was definitely not part of the immediate family or else Charlie would have known who she was.

She’s too young to be his wife, Charlie thought to himself. Although who am I to judge if she is? He smirked to himself, his two gold teeth twinkling in the limited light.

Master Cunningham took his seat at the head of the table while Charlie’s men sat across from their captain. Charlie looked at him, and realized that in the seven years he had done business with Master Cunningham, he had never seen the older man look so aged. His clear blue eyes were scanning a piece of parchment, his dark hair transforming into gray. His cheeks had sunken in, and his neck wrinkled. He hunched over very slightly, as though he were shrinking from his normally strong stature. Charlie frowned at the sight, shaking his head. The man was fifty-seven years old, an old father. He knew his time was coming, and wanted to make sure everything was set and secure for his family’s future.

I am sorry for my daughter’s blunt remarks and lack of etiquette, Master Cunningham said, looking at Charlie. If Master Cunningham looked old, he sounded quite young, his voice still strong.

I quite enjoyed her bluntness, Charlie replied in his low English drawl. You have a very intelligent daughter, if I may say so.

You may, Master Cunningham said, exasperation tainting his tone, rolling his eyes at Charlie’s statement. Although you alone think that. I just hope I can find a respectable suitor for her so that she may be set in a marriage by the time she is eighteen.

I’m sure that will not be a problem, Charlie said, leaning back into his comfortable chair. Although, eighteen does seem very young…

Once again, you alone think that, Master Cunningham, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. Eighteen is a goal, but with her attitude, a more realistic one may be twenty years of age. He paused, sighing, and then changed the subject. Anyways, we do have business to discuss, do we not? The older man’s face lit at the topic change. Now, how many pounds of rice would you like this time? I do not have too much during this time of year, you know. The older man leaned back in his chair, his hands hanging limply from the cushioned armrests, and yet his face was firm.

Charlie studied the man before him and let out a long, low chuckle. He grabbed two sugar cubes from the center of the table and plopped them into his hot cup of tea. A few droplets of tea sprang up from the liquid and quickly fell back down on the saucer underneath Charlie’s cup, narrowly missing the fine tablecloth.

Let’s be honest here, Master Cunningham, Charlie said, grabbing a teaspoon and stirring his tea. We are all intelligent business men here, are we not? He picked up his teacup with one hand, and held up a finger with the other, and then proceeded to take a long gulp of his tea. After he was finished, he placed the cup down and interlocked his long fingers, leaning forward, toward Master Cunningham. You are the only rice farmer on this island, and the East India Company intelligently recruited you to be one of its only rice farmers. Every six months or so, they send a representative to collect the rice that you so intelligently farm. For what they are paying you for a mere pound of rice, it would be quite unintelligent for me to believe that you do not have too much, as you say. And, if this statement is indeed fact, then it would be more intelligent for me to take my business elsewhere. He paused, his dark eyes narrowing at him. So, he concluded, leaning back into his chair, his eyes never wavering from Master Cunningham, what say you?

Master Cunningham’s mouth dropped open in complete and utter surprise. Why, you… have you no… I have never… he stuttered, not able to complete a sentence.

Charlie rolled his eyes, and stood up, his men following suit. Your current offer is about to leave the table, and then will drop dramatically, Charlie warned. Either you are with the Company, or you’re not.

Master Cunningham closed his mouth, and stared intently at his untouched cup of tea, unable to look at the younger man before him. I will have three hundred pounds delivered to your ship by dusk, he said, all the confidence he once had diminished.

Very intelligent decision, mate, Charlie said, and then turned toward his two men. Men, go and fetch Master Cunningham’s payment. Pleasure doing business with you. He smirked, sticking out his hand.

Master Cunningham did not notice Charlie’s extended hand, and if he did, he did not take it. Charlie let it fall back to his side and then turned on the heel of his worn leather boot, leaving without another word. He left Master Cunningham still staring at the table.

Once on board of his ship, Charlie grinned to himself. He always prided himself on the art of persuasion. His talent with words took him off the island of Port Royal, to sailing the seven seas, just as he had always dreamed of. Lord David Sutherland had recruited the young lad himself when Charlie was merely eighteen, and now, seven years later, he was captain of his beautiful ship, the Midnight Sea, the only woman he truly loved, and the commission he received whenever he used his talent to acquire business was always large. He loved his life, he loved his ship, and he loved the sea. Those three things were all that was important to him, and that was what he was living for. And women? Women were good for only one thing, and it was not marriage. He was too wild to be tamed and was adamant about not being tied down. While he exuded charm, he was quite good at resisting female wiles. A tumble in the hay to quench his hunger, and before dawn, he was off to the next island, the next port, the next town. He had no desire to fall in love. As long as he remained captain of his ship, he did not need anything else.

One of his men followed Charlie as he made his way to the helm. His golden brown hair was pulled into a small ponytail, and his blue eyes shone with adoration. Gods, Charlie, every time! the young man exclaimed, smiling brilliantly. Three hundred pounds of rice is fifty more than usual! You are a sneaky bloke! I almost thought he wasn’t going to go through with it after your little speech about intelligence.

You don’t know me at all, mate, Charlie said, looking at the younger man in front of him.

The man smiled. I think I know you quite well, he replied in his thick English accent. What I don’t know is how you manage to persuade anyone you meet into doing anything you want, whether it is whores, bar wenches, customers, and even Lord Sutherland himself.

Heath, my dear boy, in time, you will learn the art of persuasion, Charlie said with a grin, his long fingers wrapping around the wheel in a caressing manner. Stick with me, mate, and I’ll take you places.

Where to, then? Heath asked, cocking his head to the side so his view of his captain changed a bit. After we leave this island, where are we off to?

Just to England, Charlie said, nonchalant. Lord Sutherland wishes to speak with me…or to me, depending on his mood.

How long do you think it will take to get there? the young man asked, turning so his gaze shifted to the horizon, trying to make out any form of land that he could.

A month, maybe, Charlie replied, shrugging. Not long. And then, after finishing up there, the world is ours to explore.

Are you leaving the Company, Captain? Heath asked, looking back at Charlie, who was staring intently at his helm.

Charlie shrugged after a moment, his gaze shifting back to the young man so that now the two were looking at each other. Just taking a scheduled vacation, he said, his dark, twinkling eyes making his statement even more mysterious than it already was.

Well, Captain Colt, a tall, older man said, looking out his wall-sized window, out across to the sea. He was dressed in rich crimson, his hands tucked curtly behind his back. His posture was regal, but he was speaking to the sea and not to his guest. You have yet to fail me.

This particular room always intimidated Charlie, and when the fire cackled from the fireplace, he jumped slightly. Well, he said, turning his head and staring at the fire accusingly. An oddly shaped fire poker was placed in the ashes, the bright flames engulfing the end of it. Charlie’s brow rose and he turned so he was facing Lord Sutherland’s back once again. You did hire me for a reason.

That I did, Sutherland said, finally turning to look at his young captain. His hooked nose wrinkled as he looked at Charlie’s casual apparel. I see you have dressed up for the occasion of speaking with me.

I was always one of your classier captains, Charlie said, looking down at his once-white tunic that was now occupied by various stains.

Lord Sutherland forced a tight smile that did not reach his eyes and walked slowly over to his desk. At that point, two of Lord Sutherland’s men walked in, dressed in the Royal Navy uniform. Charlie turned when he heard the door open and he raised his brow in wonder at them, both now standing on either side of the door. He turned back to Lord Sutherland, who was leaning over his desk, looking at a piece of parchment.

It seems you have some time off coming up, he said, raising his head to look Charlie in the eyes. I will be happy to authorize this, especially after the wonderful job you did at accumulating the rice.

Thank you, sir, Charlie said, shifting his weight to his left and right foot. He was anxious to get back to his ship, to get back to the sea.

No, Lord Sutherland said with a smile. Thank you, Captain Colt. Just as I expected when I first hired you years ago, you have proved to be an irreplaceable asset to my hand-picked lieutenants.

I’m a captain, sir, Charlie corrected, his lips contorting into a frown. Not a lieutenant.

Oh, Lord Sutherland said, his brow rising in mock-surprise. I have not yet told you, have I? He tilted his head up, still leaning on his desk, his back hunched forward, his eyes staring intently in Charlie’s. Well, let me be the first to congratulate you on your new promotion, Captain Colt. Well, I should say…Lieutenant Colt.

Charlie pursed his lips. Although being a lieutenant was more than what he had ever hoped for, captain sounded so much better than lieutenant. Along with the title, the commission would increase, and that was always a good thing. However, that came along with a lot more responsibility, a lot more work, and a lot more meetings with Lord Sutherland—not his favorite person in the world. A promotion was a promotion, though. He would try anything once.

And what would my new duties be, sir? Charlie asked, cocking his head to the side.

It is all in this contract, Lord Sutherland said, picking up a piece of parchment and walking over to Charlie, handing it to him. He was a good half-a-head taller than his newly promoted lieutenant, but Charlie was not intimidated.

Charlie took the offered parchment from his commanding officer and scanned it. The new duties listed included being not only a captain of a ship but being in charge of a whole fleet. Because his specialty was business, he would continue to transport goods and money, but instead of the usual goods such as rice, oranges, and alcoholic beverages, he was in charge of everything, from the typical to more profit-gaining goods such as slaves. Charlie furrowed his brow when he saw this. Slaves? Are they considered goods? Everything else in the contract was a dream, save for the transportation of slaves. Charlie had never believed in people being slaves no matter what the circumstance, and his strong belief in that caused him to make the decision faster than he might otherwise have, despite its obvious benefits.

I am very honored, Charlie said, looking up at Lord Sutherland, who was offering him an inked quill, that you chose to promote me, sir, a mere captain. However, due to my values, I must refuse this offer, but I am happy to remain in my current position.

Lord Sutherland, known for his unfaltering demeanor, could not help but drop his mouth in surprise at this blunt refusal at this prized opportunity. The surprise erased itself from his face just as fast as it was plastered on, and his jaw muscles tightened.

May I ask why, Captain Colt? Lord Sutherland asked between his teeth. Apparently formalities were a requirement between them now, Charlie noticed.

I do not believe in the selling, the transporting, or the buying of slaves, Charlie replied, his stare never faltering. His dark eyes narrowed; the usual playful twinkle disappeared from his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Lord Sutherland met Charlie’s stare with his own and was silent for a moment. Then, without a word, he nodded at both of his men. It pains me that you say that, he said, as the men came up from behind Charlie, but I did have a slight suspicion you might refuse me. Each man grabbed one of Charlie’s arms, which then prompted Charlie to struggle against them. Come now, Charlie, I am Lord Sutherland of the East India Company! Why would you think you could refuse me? Charlie was still struggling as Lord Sutherland lowered his voice, articulating every word. Now, I will ask you again; sign the contract guaranteeing your promotion, or be terminated from your current position.

Charlie furrowed his brow, his face shading over. The fire crackled again, but this time, he did not flinch. No, he said curtly.

Lord Sutherland sighed with obvious impatience. Morals and business do not go together, Charlie, Lord Sutherland said. To be a good businessman, one must suspend their moral beliefs for intelligent beliefs that will get the job done, that will earn the most profit, that will terminate the scoundrels that sail the seven seas under their own colors. That is what we do, Captain Colt; that is what this Company does. He walked over to the fireplace, his hands once again behind his back. He curled his fingers around the oddly shaped fire poker, picking it up and peering at it. It was then that Charlie noticed why it was so oddly shaped; at the end of the poker, a legible ‘P’ was at the end of it. You are either with the Company, he said, turning to Charlie so that the fire poker was between both of their faces. Charlie gulped as he stared the red-hot end of the poker. Or you are not, Sutherland finished, meeting Charlie’s stare with a dangerous look in his cold, steely eyes.

Charlie bit his tongue to keep from biting his lip. He glanced up at the nearly orange ‘P’ and then back at the man before him. He knew that fire poker. He had seen Lord Sutherland use it on anyone who disobeyed him before which would then result in them being branded forever as a pirate. Then, they would be discharged, but instead of trying to get into another honorable business, the ‘P’ on their arm would prohibit them from doing so. Because of this, they usually turned pirate themselves. And now, Charlie realized he was about to be put in the same position as he only saw before. Would he be willing to be branded based on his moral beliefs, or would he force himself to transport, to buy and sell the slaves to keep his reputation in high esteem? To be an outlaw or a businessman…?

Which is it, Captain Colt? Lord Sutherland asked.

Unless you are incapable of hearing, I believe I said that I refuse your promotion, Charlie said. His tone was cocky, his demeanor, foolish, but Charlie refused to reveal any type of weakness.

Lord Sutherland sighed, pursing his lips in disappointment. He nodded to his man holding Charlie on his right. Without warning to Charlie, the man forced Charlie’s arm out and rolled up his sleeve so that Charlie’s bare forearm was in plain view. Charlie began to struggle again, but it was no use. Lord Sutherland slowly began to lower the fire poker, the anticipation building up in Charlie nearly as painful as the coming burn. When the poker touched Charlie’s bare arm, he could not contain a growl of pain. The metal seeped into his skin, and the pain was so unbearable that he almost fainted because of it. It lasted much longer than needed, but after the initial contact, Charlie gritted his teeth and bore it. He watched the poker on his skin, and as the ‘P’ seeped into him, he felt a transformation take place. Just like the many men before him who endured this excruciating pain, Charlie began to see piracy as a more desired living if branding was a form of punishment and a person was considered a good. How stupid he had been to work for Lord Sutherland. How foolish, how blind he had been. But what was done was done.

Lord Sutherland lifted the poker off of Charlie’s skin, but neither man let the disgraced captain go. "Tell your lieutenant to get the Midnight Sea ready for termination, Lord Sutherland said as he placed the fire poker back into the fireplace. For the time being, place him in the brig. I want to make sure he sees his beloved ship sink down to Davy Jones’s locker."

As Charlie was taken away, his mind exploded with silent rage. His ship, his ship for nearly seven years, was about to be destroyed, his good reputation was about to be tainted, and he was forever branded as a pirate. It was then that Captain Charlie Colt was a changed man. If people were going to believe that he was a pirate, then he would not only become a pirate, but be the best damned pirate that sailed the seven seas. He would get a ship, a new ship, and a crew with only one goal in mind; revenge. Of course, there would be much pillaging and plundering to satisfy his crew’s sense of greed, pleasure, and adventure, and while he might dip into these activities from time to time, his main focus would be revenge on Lord Sutherland of the East India Company. If Lord Sutherland wanted to destroy his only love, then Charlie would gladly open Hell up himself just so the devil could pull in Sutherland for an eternity of pain that a branding could only fraction.

What goes around comes around, Charlie thought to himself, and I will make sure that Lord Sutherland gets more than he deserves in that department.

1

Brooke Cunningham sighed as her maid finished the last touches on her hair. It was hard to breathe in her dress, a rose-colored number with a corset which squeezed her already slim waist even smaller, and pushing her breasts higher than she thought was even humanly possible. The skirt flared at her hips and went just past her ankles. Instead of heels, she opted for pure, white stockings and matching pink flats.

I hate pink, she said as she frowned at herself in the mirror.

But you look so good in it! her maid, Liz, exclaimed. It’s a wonder you ain’t married, mum.

Brooke rolled her eyes. That is what my father tells me, she murmured, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

Oh, well, he just means you’re beautiful and smart so there should be no reason you’re not married, the maid explained as she reached over Brooke to grab some powder.

No powder for tonight, Liz, Brooke told her maid, crinkling her small nose in distaste.

Are you sure, mum? Freckles ain’t fashionable, you know, she said as if Brooke had not been told that since she was a young child. Liz opened the powder, despite her mistress’s protest. She grabbed a brush and dipped it into the powder, proceeding to get it ready to use on Brooke’s face.

Liz, I said no, Brooke reiterated in a tight voice. She was even a bit surprised at Liz’s blatant disobedience. I do not care anymore if freckles are fashionable or not; I want no powder! She looked at herself in the mirror, a small smile on her face, her eyes mischievous. I happen to like my freckles anyways.

Liz closed the powder and put it away. Whatever you say, mum, she said, her voice low. Your father just requests that you look your best for tonight; a potential suitor—a wealthy merchant!—has arranged to have supper here in less than an hour! Do you really want no powder on your face?

No more suitors! Brooke exclaimed, throwing her hands up. I am tired of putting on a mask and pretending to be somebody I am not. I just want to be accepted for who I am underneath the powder, the corsets, and the ridiculously uncomfortable shoes. I want a potential husband to like that I am not pale, that I do have freckles, and that I am not as small as these dresses make me be!

Did I tie your corset too tight? Liz asked, kneeling down to look at the silk ribbon that laced through the tightening mechanism. You’re speaking nonsense, mum! You know to gain a respectable suitor means that you have to sacrifice a piece of who you are!

"If all these respectable suitors cannot accept me for who I am then maybe disrespectable suitors will be better suited for me," Brooke said with a wicked smile. She knew that would cause Liz to rant, which was always quite amusing to the twenty-year-old.

Like pirates?! Liz screeched. Her eyes widened in terror and her mouth hung open, obviously appalled at such a notion. Like rogues and thieves and scallywags?

Precisely, Brooke replied.

Brooke’s statement caused Liz to drop the powder, causing small, white particles to fly everywhere; on the desk, on the carpet, on Brooke and Liz both. Brooke started laughing while Liz shrieked and tried to wipe the powder off of herself, which only caused it to sink deeper into her clothes.

You can’t go down there looking like that! she exclaimed when she saw the giggling girl covered in the powder.

Liz ran into the bathing room, adjacent to the room they