Romancing the Seas Books 1-5

Married to a Pirate

A dark, spicy fairy tale retelling with a Captain Hook twist

Beauty and the Beast meets Pirates of the Caribbean in this steamy, enemies-to-lovers fantasy romance packed with danger, desire, and deliciously dark twists.

I was supposed to marry the prince.

Instead, I was stolen by pirates—and forced to wed their brutal, brooding captain.

Captain Stone is as feared as he is fascinating. Cold. Commanding. Cursed, some whisper. His crew obeys without question, and I quickly learn why.

But I’m not some fragile noblewoman.

When the first chance to escape presents itself, I run.

Straight into the hands of an even worse fate: an enemy pirate crew with darker intentions and no rules.

Just when I think it’s over for me, my pirate husband storms in—blade drawn, rage in his eyes.

"Touch my wife, and I’ll destroy you all."

Suddenly, the man I feared is the one I burn for.

He’s possessive. Dangerous. Utterly captivating.

And the worst part?

My heart doesn’t want to be rescued by the prince anymore.

⚓️ Enemies to lovers

⚓️ Forced marriage. One bed. One horse.

⚓️ Touch-her-and-die energy

⚓️ Morally gray pirate captain

⚓️ Mythology, slow-burn spice & high-stakes adventure

⚓️ For fans of dark romantasy, myth-inspired fantasy romance & swoony anti-heroes

Note: This is an Upper YA/NA Romantasy for readers who love their pirates dangerous, their magic laced with mythology, and their romances as wild and deep as the sea.

HEA guaranteed. Series best read in order.

📚 Romancing the Seas by Athena Rose

Book 1: Married to a Pirate – Beauty and the Beast x Captain Hook

Book 2: Bound to a Siren – A dark Little Mermaid retelling

Book 3: Sworn to a Demigod – A twist on Hercules like you’ve never seen

Book 4: Vowed to Hades – A dark Hades & Persephone romantasy

MARRIED TO A PIRATE
CHAPTER ONE
Georgette

Georgette Harrington looked out at the rolling seas. She inhaled the salty breeze as it washed over her, whipping her curls back. Though the skies were clear, she did not fancy the look of the ominous green tinge creeping across the horizon.

She felt restless. A flock of seagulls honked overhead and she knew she wasn’t the only living soul sensing the unsettling change in the wind.

Something untoward was coming to Port Harbor. She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms in a vain attempt to soothe them. It did nothing to slow her quickened heart rate.

Prince Edward’s blue eyes moved to her slender hands and a tight crease formed between his tidy brows. “Are you well, my lady?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Perhaps we should return to the palace.”

Georgette dropped her hands. The hairs on the back of her bare neck were up now, but she forced a refined smile. “There is no need, Your Majesty, I am but a little excited about the ball, is all.”

She glanced at Rose, the maiden walking three paces behind them. She had drawn the short straw to be their chaperone. 

Georgette knew that there were numerous duties her maids would prefer over the tedium of walking three paces behind herself and the Prince. She wondered what it must be like for Rose and the other girls, having to pretend to not hear their every word even as they listened for orders and kept a hawk’s eye on the Prince’s body language.

As though her thoughts had triggered a reaction, Rose uttered a short, sharp gasp. Georgette realized why a second later, when the Prince’s royal jacket was suddenly being draped around her shoulders. His body heat flooded her with a comforting warmth that competed with the heat flooding her cheeks. The Prince had just taken off his royal garments for her sake. 

Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a long moment. “You are trembling,” he said finally. Georgette’s heartbeat slowed and she simply stared, lost in the depth of his ocean blue eyes. She soon recovered herself.

“Your Royal Highness,” she demurred, lowering her eyes. “You are too kind.” 

“I must enquire as to when you will call me Edward, my lady. On our wedding night, perhaps?” Prince Edward asked, his lips lifting into a smile. Georgette bit against a grin as she heard Rose’s breathing quicken. If the Prince were to carry on talking on this matter, she feared her maid would faint.

Georgette stepped back a little to ease the tension rising between them. The inside of the Prince’s jacket was filled with his scent. As she moved, his perfume wafted up and enveloped her. She took a deep breath. “I shall call you by name the day you address me by mine.”

Prince Edward took her hands by the fingertips and gave her a wanting look. “Miss Georgette, then.” 

He stood too close to be proper, but he seemed to have forgotten his manners in the moment.

His face hovered mere inches away from hers. Georgette was able to admire every angle of it. There was much to admire. Georgette considered him handsome, to be sure. He sported clean shaven cheeks and jaws, with smooth, dark hair tied back with a piece of ribbon. Everything about his appearance was meticulously clean. Even his teeth were unusually straight, probably not daring to be out of line.

She thought him a fine man indeed. Prince Edward; captain of the Royal British Navy and heir to the throne.

To be matched with a prince was in Georgette’s destiny long before she had reached adulthood. Her father, Lord Harrington, was a good friend of the King, and though Prince Edward was almost a decade her senior, it had been decided that Georgette would marry the Prince when she came of age.

Georgette never questioned it. Having no mother nor siblings, she wanted to please her father and make him proud. The man had endured enough heartache to last a thousand lifetimes, and Georgette was not interested in causing any further pain.

She was raised by the Governess, who taught her all the manners and customs of being a lady in 18th century England. 

She took music lessons, and became quite skilled at the piano. On more than one occasion, the Governess had referred to her needlework as “impressive.”

She could even tolerate sitting with her ankles crossed in a tight corset for six hours straight without having to be excused; a most important skill for royal life. 

Georgette was ready to be a princess of England. She only hoped that she could do her duty to bear the Prince a healthy son.

That, and ignore the substantial pull of the sea. 

They’d lost her mother to the sea when Georgette was just a baby. She’d reluctantly left Georgette behind, and died in a storm on the sea while sailing to France. Since then, her father had forbidden Georgette from ever going near the water. Still, she often found herself gazing upon the ocean from her balcony, daydreaming about a life away from the pressures and responsibilities placed upon her. She’d often see sailboats and all manner of ships come and go from the port, and long for the freedom to sail away into the great blue horizon.

Prince Edward and Georgette began their courtship on her twenty-first birthday. 

All her years of preparation were finally coming to good use, but the Prince seemed set on throwing it all away out here on the palace grounds. He had her hands in a grip as strong as a vice, and she could hear his breaths coming out in short pants. One hot breath tickled her cheek and his smile faded. It was the first time in six months Georgette had seen his regal mask slip.

He dipped his head and shut his eyes, as if to offer a prayer. “Georgette,” he whispered. “I cannot wait to marry you.” 

Hearing her name uttered with such longing sent Georgette’s head into a spin. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. His lips, mere inches away a few moments ago, was suddenly a breath away from hers. They breathed each other’s air for what felt like an eternity.

A squeak and a cough shattered the stillness. The Prince jolted back and dropped her hands as though they were hot coals. Rose had cleared her throat. 

“You must only wait three days more… Edward,” Georgette said, pouring all of the tenderness she felt into the syllables of his name. Prince Edward’s eyes flashed and he turned to beam at her. But a far-off wave crashed and Georgette couldn’t resist glancing at the sea again. The tide had crept in, and she watched the water toss and beat on itself with a little more zeal than usual. She looked back at Prince Edward.

“Pray tell, Edward. Do I please you?”

Prince Edward looked deeply into her eyes, another slight line forming between his brows as though the question had caused offense.

“Yes, Georgette. You are the most beautiful maiden I have ever laid eyes on.”

Georgette forced a smile. Many people had remarked on her rare beauty over the years. She had sun-kissed blonde hair that sparkled in the sunshine like a head-dress of millions of miniature diamonds, and her lips were naturally plump—as red as strawberries. But surely he could see more than that.

“Thank you,” she said, pretending to blush to hide her slight annoyance. “Is there anything else about me that pleases you?”

Prince Edward inclined his head. It reminded Georgette of a confused cocker spaniel for a moment. “I do not believe I understand.”

Georgette swallowed. “How is it, that after all these years, you still do not know me, Edward?” she asked, unable to hide the sharpness in her voice. She pulled her hands away and watched the Prince’s brain at work. He scratched the back of his neck and stared at the ground as if he might find there a piece of parchment with script on what to say next.

“I assure you, I have been counting the days to the night I get to know you.”

Now Georgette blushed for real. “That’s not what I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her throat had gone dry.

“Ma’am, Lord Harrington’s carriage has arrived.”

Georgette jumped at the sound of her maid’s voice and followed Rose’s line of sight. The palace gardens were set on a hill, giving a perfect view of what lay beyond the stone wall encircling the palace. Rose was right. It was still a small object in the distance, but Georgette recognized her father’s carriage by the family crest etched into the frame over one of the doors. 

She removed the Prince’s heavy jacket and gave it back to him. He bowed his head.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Georgette,” he said, folding his jacket over his arm. 

As he escorted her back to the palace, Georgette couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on her. Her irritation faded.

“You will not have to wait long,” she said, glancing at him with a shy smile. “The engagement ball is this evening.” She found it difficult to remain annoyed at the Prince when he looked at her like that.

“Our engagement ball,” he corrected, and his words made Georgette’s heart flutter.

Their engagement ball. The long-awaited event. Every esteemed friend and acquaintance of the royal family would be in attendance. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, and Georgette had spent many late nights practicing her steps for their dance. The Prince must have misinterpreted her anxiety for concern, because he gave her an earnest look.

“Do not worry yourself, my dear,” he said, as she stepped through the palace doors ahead of him. “We have a lifetime to get to know each other.”

* * *

On the way home, Georgette stared out the little window of the carriage, listening to the babble of talk from the city folk walking the streets. A woman reprimanded a child for getting mud on his nice clothes. A man stood on the corner shouting out Bible references, calling all to repentance. Then the carriage passed a group of men chuckling darkly about something. Georgette could not quite make out their words, but she guessed it might have been about the preacher, because they were all looking at him.

The sounds merged into a toneless drone as she became lost in thought.

The Prince was sweet, but she couldn’t ignore her reservations.

It was well known that his mother, the Queen, had fallen out of favor with the King. When that happened, he sent her to the Tower of London, never to be seen again. Soon after, the King announced her dead, and married a new Queen.

Georgette worried. If Prince Edward were to become King and fall out of love with Georgette, would she meet the same fate?

Georgette tugged on the top of her tight bodice and touched her neck, as though checking she was still in one piece. Her fingertips grazed a string of pearls.

It marveled her that her father and the King were so close. She couldn’t imagine her sweet, benevolent father condoning such actions. He worshipped her mother when she was alive, and devoted much of his time to Georgette. They played chess by the fire many a night.

He told her several stories of his travels as a mere sailorman. 

A sudden jolt forced Georgette out of her thoughts. Before she could process what was happening, the carriage tipped sideways and crashed to the ground. Georgette collided with the side of the carriage headfirst, and the world went black.

She woke in a commotion of screams and shouts. An acrid, burning smell clung to the back of her throat. She coughed and struggled to sit up. Disoriented, she looked up at the sound of squealing hinges and blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the open door.

“Take my hand.”

Tanned, callous fingers with golden rings on every digit reached down towards her. Georgette’s first instinct was to bat the hand away, but she held restraint and frowned up at the light instead.

“Take my hand or stay in there and burn.”

Georgette scowled deeper at the harsh tone of the man’s gruff voice and looked around her. The smell of smoke grew stronger and swirling clouds of black seeped in through the slits of the carriage’s woodwork.

“This is your last chance,” the gruff voice warned. Georgette shakily got to her feet, swayed at the thumping pain in her temple, and reached up for her savior’s hand.

As soon as she gripped his wrist, another hand reached down and grabbed her forearm. 

After some grunting above her head, her feet left the ground and Georgette’s upper body emerged through the open door. Now standing next to the man who had pulled her out, Georgette studied his appearance. 

He wore a long leather coat with fine gold buttons running along the seam. A soft, white, ruffled shirt hung open at the chest, giving Georgette an eyeful of the man’s defined and sweat-drenched muscles. 

She fought the urge to recoil. She had never seen a man like him before. Two dark brown eyes met hers, framed with thick black brows, wild dark hair, and a shaggy beard.

The man wrapped his arms around her waist to carry her safely away from the burning carriage and suddenly, she was cradled so close to his body that her ear pressed up against his bare chest and she could hear the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat.

“Hold onto me,” he said, his voice rumbling against Georgette’s ear. She gripped the collar of his soft leather coat, but the man growled with dissatisfaction, took her hands, and placed them around his neck.

“Now wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered.

Georgette gasped as she wondered at the audacity of this stranger.

When she didn’t obey his command, the man lifted her skirts roughly and grabbed a leg. Georgette squeaked. He huffed with impatience.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the carriage is on fire. If you don’t do as I say, we’re both going to be engulfed in flames.”

As though on cue, Georgette began to feel the heat from below. She glanced down, and red flames licked the bottom of her feet. Her heartbeat went wild. Sensing her alarm, the man pinned her thigh to his waist. She wrapped the other leg around him without hesitation. 

“Good girl,” he growled into her neck, and his voice sent a shiver through her body. She tried to ignore it as she focused on clinging onto him while he climbed down.

Georgette had never been this close to a man before. She wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the intimacy causing her to break into a sweat. This was certainly no gentleman, but her body didn’t care.

His wavy, shoulder-length hair smelled of the salty sea. Despite the horrid circumstances, she had never felt more safe in all her life.

When they reached the ground, dark smoke encircled them. Georgette stepped back to look at the man again. There was something familiar about his eyes. They stared back, dark and intense. A wild wiry beard consumed a good portion of his face. She wondered what kind of man was underneath it.

He broke eye contact to secure his sleeve and Georgette followed his movements. Just before he could hide it, she caught sight of the black P burned into his skin. 

She gasped and locked eyes with him again. “You’re a pirate,” she whispered.

Oddly, he grimaced at the word.  Had she caused offense? She opened her mouth to thank him, but found herself whipped into the arms of Prince Edward instead, who had wrapped her up in a tight hug.

“When I saw the smoke, and then your carriage on its side, my heart stopped. Thank the heavens you are alive.” He held her tight. Georgette frowned into his jacket. The scent of his clean clothes and warm spice did not make her feel anything but numb.

When he pulled back to search her eyes, Georgette forced a brave smile. 

“I’m quite well. Please do not be alarmed. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

Prince Edward squeezed her hands and nodded, then he barked orders to the guards standing by to put out the fire.

Georgette stood frozen on the spot as more people came into view, staring at her like they were looking at a ghost. She was not concerned by the attention, she was scanning the faces, searching…

“How on God’s green Earth did you get out?”

She whipped round to see her father, in his finest clothes, striding toward her. He put his arms around her and she relaxed into his warm embrace. “There was a man,” she mumbled into his chest. Then she pulled back to look again.

But her efforts were fruitless. The man—the pirate—who had saved her, was gone.

“We shall delay the ball, and I insist on escorting you back to the palace. I’ll call for the doctor…” Prince Edward stopped at the sight of Georgette furiously shaking her head.

“No. I am unharmed, and I do not intend to delay our wedding a moment longer,” she said. She had her concerns about joining the royal family, but there was simply nothing more torturous than staying in an anxious limbo for longer than necessary. She would find ways to keep the Prince happy.

Prince Edward’s face lit up, but he forced a serious look a second later and nodded. “At least allow me to take you home in my carriage.”

* * *

Back in her father’s manor, Georgette sat in a tin bath and stared at her knees while her maids poured warm water over her.

It made no difference what the temperature was. She had lost all feeling to a cold numbness since she caught sight of the dark P on the stranger’s hand. For all she knew, they were pouring buckets of ice over her body.

“You’ve had quite the scare, Miss Harrington,” one of the maids commented needlessly. “You’re still trembling.”

Georgette hugged her knees and bit her lip, willing her limbs to still. It was fruitless. Another shiver wracked her. 

“Yes. I dread to think what might have happened if that pirate hadn’t saved me.”

A bucket dropped to the stone floor with a clang. One of the maids bent quickly to retrieve it, babbling a string of apologies. “Ma’am,” another began fearfully. “Did you say, pirate?”

The word pirate was not often uttered in the Harrington household. Or indeed, many homes at Port Harbor. The small town was well known to be far safer than London. So safe, in fact, that the royal family tended to spend most of their time there, instead of in the city. There had not been a pirate attack for more than two years, and the superstitious residents liked to keep it that way by refusing to name them. It was as though the mere utterance of the word pirate would summon them from the far reaches of the sea, to pillage and plunder their town.

“Yes,” Georgette responded calmly. She rubbed a bar of soap over her body. “He was exceedingly ill mannered. But if it weren’t for him, I would surely be dead.”

The maids whispered to each other, and one of them began to wash Georgette’s long hair, so she sat back and shut her eyes while her brain replayed the events.

She could still feel his body heat between her thighs, and his hot breath on her neck. Then she remembered his words as he carried her down.

Good girl.

Her insides flopped like a fish out of water. She squirmed. 

“Ma’am. Are you feeling well? You are flushed.”

Georgette’s eyes snapped open and she looked at the concerned maids staring down at her. Then she forced a smile to suppress the strange and new sensations flooding her body.

“Yes,” she whispered. “In fact, I do believe I’ve never felt more alive.”

CHAPTER TWO
Captain Stone

Captain Stone marched through the streets of Port Harbor with an eerie sense of foreboding hovering over him like a cloud. His mind weighed heavy with the burdens that lay on his shoulders. Of all the Greek gods, it was Atlas he related to the most. It was as though the entire world was on his back, and it was his burden alone to carry.

He would be a lesser man to let it show. Any sign of weakness could result in a mutiny. His crew were as loyal as tom cats in an alley full of felines in heat. If anyone sensed so much as a whiff of his worry, he may very well be stabbed in his sleep.

But if he didn’t deliver their requests soon, no amount of strength would hold off the hideous fate that awaited him.

He shrugged his jacket more closely around him and dragged his thumb around the pads of his fingers. His heart thumped erratically, pumping adrenaline through his body.

He followed the Harrington carriage for several miles before he picked the mouse out of his jacket and dropped it in the horses’ path.

Everything had gone according to plan.

The horses were spooked, and the driver lost control. Then the carriage rocked on its two wheels before it crashed on its side.

He had not foreseen one of the lanterns smashing, or the fire spreading greedily over the wood. A few seconds later, the carriage was smoking. If the occupant was dead, all his planning would have been for naught.

He climbed up, wrenched open the door and peered inside. He did not find Lord Harrington. A maiden cowered inside instead; a delicate creature in a pale pink gown with soft blonde curls framing her face and neck.

He reasoned she must have been the daughter Lord Harrington was always talking about.

When he pulled the timid woman out of the carriage, he set eyes upon hers and something stirred inside of him. He was not entirely certain what the feeling was, but it had been pleasant, and he had not felt that kind of pleasure in a long time.

Nonetheless, discovering her gave him an idea. She could be the key to solving all of his problems. How fitting that she was related to the man who owed him so many debts!

Captain Stone winked a thank you at the skies for bringing him this fortuitous stroke of luck. Perhaps the tide was finally changing and things would improve.

He could only hope.

He walked up to the heavy oak doors of Harrington Manor and rapped his knuckles on the thick wood.

The manor was the only stately home in Port Harbor that did not belong to the royals. The massive structure would be worth a pretty penny, for sure.

An old footman opened the door. His droopy eyes inspected Captain Stone for a moment, then his upper lip curled. The old man made to swing the door shut, but Captain Stone placed his boot in the way.

“Now, now,” he said. “Don’t be rude. Should you turn away an old friend of Lord Harrington?”

The footman stared at him with unbridled resentment, and Captain Stone grinned back. There was a ruckus somewhere deeper in the manor, then the scurrying of feet on polished stone floors.

The old man looked behind him, turned to flash an impious smile at Captain Stone, then stepped aside to allow Lord Harrington come into view. The aristocrat turned ashen gray upon seeing Captain Stone. “Hello, old friend,” he said, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat. “What brings me the pleasure of—”

“Let’s cut the pleasantries, shall we?” Captain Stone said curtly. He brushed past and marched into the hall, tossing his hat to the coat stand. “I’ve never been a fan of sycophantic gestures.” He glanced up at the sweeping staircase, wondering if the girl was upstairs and if she’d heard his voice.

If she had, did she recognize it?

Her sweet floral scent still lingered on his jacket. 

Lord Harrington followed the pirate’s line of sight and pinched his wispy brows together, as though reading Captain Stone’s mind. Then he adjusted his fine jacket and gestured to the door across the hall. “Come, let me pour you a drink.”

It was not the Captain’s first time in Lord Harrington’s study. The dimly lit room with its looming bookshelves of dark wood and cloying smell of old books was just the same as it had been the last time he’d visited. Oil lamps flickered as they entered the room. Captain Stone chose to recline in the soft leather armchair by the small iron fireplace, while Lord Harrington moved to the mahogany desk and poured them two glasses of whiskey.

“If this is about the money I owe…”

“This is exactly about the money you owe,” Captain Stone cut in, giving the man a sharp look. “I’m not a bank. Nor am I a charitable man.”

Lord Harrington downed his drink. “If I could just have a little more time… My daughter’s dowry is all I have left and—”

“Ah yes,” Captain Stone murmured with a glint in his eye that Lord Harrington did not like. “I hear she is engaged to marry Prince Edward,” the Captain continued. The pirate took a swig of his drink and the hard liquor burned his throat as it went down.

Lord Harrington’s back stiffened and his thick, black moustache twitched. “You heard right. As you can imagine, things are incredibly busy. Tonight is the engagement ball in fact, so I really must insist that we have this conversation another time…” he rambled, averting his eyes and gesturing to the door. Captain Stone did not move an inch from the chair. He surveyed the anxious man with a mixture of pity and amusement.

“Five thousand pounds,” the pirate growled. “Now, are you going to repay your debts or do I need to recover what is owed with more… forceful measures?”

Lord Harrington bristled. “I cannot pay you at present. But sir, if you will give me more time—”

“Judgement day waits for no man,” Captain Stone intoned coldly. Nor does it care for his frivolous concerns of dowries and royal balls. Today is your judgement day, Lord Harrington. Now, I shall ask you one last time…”

Lord Harrington blustered. “I will not ruin my daughter’s—”

“Then how about a wager?” Captain Stone cut in, eyeing Lord Harrington like a lion stalking his prey. The man was cornered with nowhere to turn, but the sound of a wager sent his brows flying.

“One round of cards. If you win, I’ll consider the debt settled and walk away. You’ll never see me again.”

Lord Harrington’s silver brow cocked up. “And if I lose?”

Captain Stone looked around the dark study. “I’ll take the deeds to your home to repay your debts and… I’ll have your daughter.”

The aristocrat choked and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket to cough into. “Out of the question. My daughter is off the table.”

Captain Stone pulled out a deck of cards from his jacket and slammed it on the table. “You can choose the game. Think about your options carefully, my old friend.”

He watched with great delight as his debtor’s inky black eyes darted from left to right. The cogs in Lord Harrington’s mind spun.

“If you do nothing, I shall take everything you have. Your daughter’s dowry, your house… You’ll have nothing. Then see how the royal family feels about being associated with a man of ruin.”

Captain Stone took another swig of his drink with a smirk. “You’ll lose your title. Your reputation will be in tatters. Who will your precious daughter marry then? You will ruin your life and hers too. Tell me, can you ensure her safety without so much as a half-penny to your name?”

The color drained from Lord Harrington’s face as he listened to Captain Stone’s gravelly voice. Both men knew that there was no argument.

“What do you want with my daughter, anyway? She is but twenty-one years of age. You must be at least fifteen years her senior.”

“My business is my own.” Captain Stone set his drink down and drummed his fingers on the worn deck of cards in a wave. “But I’ll be more than equipped to tend to her needs.”

Lord Harrington’s face soured. “She is engaged to Prince Edward and—”

“—He will have no interest in the girl.” Captain Stone interrupted, the tone of his voice sharpening. “Mark my words. When the royal family discover that their esteemed friend, Lord Harrington, spends late evenings in the pub, gambling away everything he owns, they will disassociate from you faster than you can say bankruptcy.”

Lord Harrington’s brow began to sweat under the swirls of his gray wig and the man sank to his knees. “Please. Don’t do this. I can pay you next month. I have bonds in—”

Captain Stone leaned forward grabbed the foolish man’s shirt in one swift motion. “How dare you spit lies in my face?” He growled. “You think me a fool? Now what say you? Will you roll over and let me take what is mine? Or will you play a game of cards and win back your life? The way I see it, you’ve got one shot. I suggest you take it.”

“But you’re asking me to barter my daughter,” Lord Harrington said, his voice raspy. Captain Stone kept eye contact but let the man go.

“If you do nothing, your daughter is destined, at best, to be no more than an old maid for a rich governess. If you take a chance, she will either marry the Prince, or come away with me. Either prospect is far better than the former. So, what do you say?”

Seeing that there was no other option, Lord Harrington grabbed the deck of cards with shaking hands. 

Captain Stone smirked and reclined in the leather chair while he watched Lord Harrington shuffle the cards. “Good man. Now, what are we playing?”

Lord Harrington’s thin lips opened and closed at rapid speed. He mumbled something inaudible, but then locked eyes with Captain Stone. “If you win, you will marry my daughter.”

Captain Stone leaned forward and cocked his head to the side, wondering if he’d heard the old man correctly. “I don’t believe you are in a position to negotiate.”

Lord Harrington’s eyes flashed. For the first time, Captain Stone sensed the man possessed a backbone. He respected that.

“You will make an honest woman out of her. You think I don’t know what activities the likes of you get up to across those seas?”

Captain Stone crossed his arms, amused. The man was not wrong. 

“Go on.”

Heartened, Lord Harrington dealt the cards. “And you will protect her with your life. Even from yourself.”

Captain Stone lifted a speculative brow. “Meaning?”

“You will see that she comes to no harm. By anyone. Not even you.”

Lord Harrington and Captain Stone stared at each other in silence for several long moments. Then Captain Stone blinked. He considered the old man’s offer with a deep hum.

“Very well. If I win, I shall marry your daughter and protect her with my life.”

The two men shook on it. 

In that moment, Captain Stone could see in Lord Harrington’s eyes that he expected to lose. He did not consider the old lord to be a visionary man, or someone in touch with the fates, but something in his instincts had told him that Lady Luck was not on his side that night.

He was right. The game of choice was poker, and it was a futile attempt at his freedom. The man’s left nostril twitched—an obvious tell. It took precisely three and a half minutes for Captain Stone to produce a royal flush and declare himself the victor.

He got to his feet and stuffed the cards back into his jacket while Lord Harrington held his face in his hands. But just as Captain Stone started for the door to claim his prize, Lord Harrington grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Not like this. Please, I beg of you.” He scurried to his desk, pulled out a rolled piece of parchment and handed it over. “The deeds. For the debt that is owed. But please, allow me keep my daughter for one more night. She is expected at the palace, after all!”

Captain Stone frowned. “You will have her attend the royal ball, knowing that she will be married to me in the morning?”

Lord Harrington’s pale face reddened across the brow. “I am sick. What has become of me?” He yanked at the collar of his shirt and paced the room. “How am I to tell her?”

Captain Stone secured the property deeds in his jacket. “Tell her what? That her father just gambled away her dowry, or sold her to a pirate?”

Lord Harrington’s face lost color entirely and his eyes rolled back. The next moment, his body went limp and he landed on the floor with a thump.

Captain Stone had no time to spare. He stepped over the old man’s body and left the study. He didn’t turn back once. “Thank you,” he said to the footman who had promptly opened the front door upon seeing him. He looked out at the starry night sky and glanced back at the staircase. An old woman, presumably the governess, was standing near the very top. “A fine evening, is it not?” 

The lady did not respond, but the whites of her eyes grew big as she watched Captain Stone pick up his feather hat from the coat stand and secure it. Then he marched out of the manor.

CHAPTER THREE

Prince Edward

Prince Edward stood in front of the wall length mirror in his room, surrounded by men handing him various items of clothing in turn. His heartbeat had not stopped thumping in his ear since he found Georgette in the wreckage of her father’s carriage.

He reasoned it would not be long before he could make sure she was always within his sights, but it did nothing to calm his nerves.

Marrying Georgette could not come a day too soon. He did not like the idea that she was alone now, possibly hurt, at Harrington Manor. 

His bedroom door groaned open, and the attendants around him stiffened. Prince Edward kept his eyes fixed on his reflection, but he knew exactly who had just entered his bedroom.

His attendants were giving curt bows now, and he felt the air to his right shift as the person approached. He turned and met the discerning stare of his father, King George.

The man had an undeniable presence about him, one that could drop the temperature of a room by a few degrees. Prince Edward turned back to the mirror and his father stepped into frame behind him; eyes cold and back rigid.

In many ways, the man reminded Prince Edward of his older brother, the lost prince. 

He shook the thought away as soon as it came. Since his brother was lost at sea, it had become unbearable to think about him. His mother expressly forbade anyone from bringing him up in conversation. 

Still, finding his brother had been the sole reason why Prince Edward willingly took on the role of commandeering the British Royal Navy. For many years, sailing the seas in search of his brother was all he wanted to do.

It was unthinkable to believe he was dead. Prince Mannington was five years his senior, stronger than any man Edward knew, and fearless.

He couldn’t be claimed by the sea.

But no one had seen nor heard of him in years. Many theories of what became of him swept the palace in whispers. Some thought the belly of the sea must have swallowed him up in a terrible storm. Others swore he’d been captured by pirates and tortured until he was driven insane and finally slaughtered. 

One wild theory came from one of the Queen’s maids, who thought he was living in Africa under the guise of a humble sailor in a bid to run away from his royal responsibilities.

But Prince Edward knew his brother valued honor and had a sense of duty. He could never choose to lead a secret life, leaving his family to go through such turmoil.

A cough ripped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at his father expectantly. When the elder royal did not speak, Prince Edward raised a brow. “May I enquire what has compelled you to come to my room? I am certain it is not to check on my attire.”

The King cleared his throat again, and began a stately pacing of the room with his hands held behind his back. “I’ve been told there was an incident today involving Miss Georgette Harrington. Is she well?”

Prince Edward shrugged on his fine jacket and secured the loops with care, while one of his aids dusted it off with a lint roller. 

“Yes,” he affirmed.

“Is she able to dance?”

Prince Edward knew his father’s enquiries were not out of concern for Georgette’s wellbeing but rather to confirm whether the young woman might embarrass the royal family in front of their many esteemed guests. 

The thought tugged his mouth into a frown. “She is,” he said, keeping his voice curt. The King stopped pacing and his azure eyes flashed.  A heavy silence hung in the air. The royal aides stood back, waiting for further instruction. 

Prompted by a single nod from the King, the room cleared, leaving Prince Edward and the King alone. 

King George beamed at his son and placed a thin hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was like an anvil—still nothing compared to the sense of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Good. Then I expect the wedding to go ahead as planned,” he said with a small smile. He released Prince Edward’s shoulder and turned to face the window. A line of carriages trailed all the way down the crooked street outside the palace gates.

Prince Edward fastened his tie and tugged on the hem of his jacket. “Indeed, everything is in hand. I expect Miss Harrington will be quite accommodating.”

“Good, good,” the King muttered, fiddling with his pocket watch. “You understand that once you are married, there will be more royal duties on your roster.”

Prince Edward stiffened but he gave a quick nod. When he did not speak, King George turned to give him a shrewd look. “You will not be able to go off gallivanting across the seas on your foolish missions under the guise of working with the Royal Navy.”

Prince Edward refused to blink under the hard stare of his father. The King was no fool. He knew the real reason why Prince Edward took on every mission. He had probably known it from the moment the Prince expressed a wish to join the Navy.

His many attempts to trace his brother had proven futile so far, and he had imagined that marriage would hinder his plans to continue the search. Clearly, his parents had designs of their own. 

“I thought I could hear my two favorite people talking in here.”

Prince Edward and King George turned as Queen Catherine walked in. She kissed her son on the cheek and straightened his tie. “Are you quite sure about this, my dear? I am sure we can use this carriage incident as a reason to postpone or even cancel—”

“Why would I wish for that, mother?” Prince Edward cut in. He did not like the look his parents exchanged.

“Well, she did grow up without a good female role model in her life. That governess her father entrusted her to is as cold as ice and as dull as a plain slice of bread,” the Queen said. Prince Edward frowned.

“What is the reason for this? The marriage has been arranged since Georgette was but a child,” he said, affronted.

There were many things he was unsure of in life—what became of his brother, what kind of King he would be, and if he would ever make his father proud. But of one thing he was certain; uncovering all mysteries with Lady Harrington by his side.

“Nothing pleases me more than the thought of having Miss Harrington as my wife,” he said in a firm voice.

And just like that, the conversation was over. His parents linked arms as they headed for the door.

“Very well, my son,” the King said drily. “We are expected in the ballroom, our guests are waiting.”

-- KEEP READING MARRIED TO A PIRATE by Athena Rose

Georgette Harrington looked out at the rolling seas. She inhaled the salty breeze as it washed over her, whipping her curls back. Though the skies were clear, she did not fancy the look of the ominous green tinge creeping across the horizon.

She felt restless. And as a flock of seagulls honked overhead and she knew she wasn’t the only living soul sensing the unsettling change in the wind.

Something untoward was coming to Port Harbor. She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms in a vain attempt to soothe them. It did nothing to slow her quickened heartrate.

Prince Edward’s blue eyes moved to her slender hands and a tight crease formed between his tidy brows. “Are you well, my lady?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Perhaps we should return to the palace.”

Georgette dropped her hands. The hairs on the back of her bare neck were up now, but she forced a refined smile. “There is no need, Your Majesty, I am but a little excited about the ball, is all.”

She glanced at Rose, the maiden walking three paces behind them. She had drawn the short straw to be their chaperone. 

Georgette knew that there were numerous duties her maids would prefer over the tedium of walking three paces behind herself and the Prince. She wondered what it must be like for Rose and the other girls, having to pretend to not hear their every word even as they listened for orders and kept a hawk’s eye on the Prince’s body language.

As though her thoughts had triggered a reaction, Rose uttered a short, sharp gasp. Georgette realized why a second later, when the Prince’s royal jacket was suddenly being draped around her shoulders. His body heat flooded her with a comforting warmth that competed with the heat flooding her cheeks. The Prince had just taken off his royal garments for her sake. 

Their eyes met and he held her gaze for a long moment. “You are trembling,” he said finally. Georgette’s heartbeat slowed and she simply stared, lost in the depth of his ocean blue eyes. She soon recovered herself.

“Your Royal Highness,” she demurred, lowering her eyes. “You are too kind.” 

“I must enquire as to when you will call me Edward, my lady. On our wedding night, perhaps?” Prince Edward asked, his lips lifting into a smile. Georgette bit against a grin as she heard Rose’s breathing quicken. If the Prince were to carry on talking on this matter, she feared her maid would faint.

Georgette stepped back a little to ease the tension rising between them. The inside of the Prince’s jacket was filled with his scent. As she moved, his perfume wafted up and enveloped her. She took a deep breath. “I shall call you by name the day you address me by mine.”

Prince Edward took her hands by the fingertips and gave her a wanting look. “Miss Georgette, then.” 

He stood too close to be proper, but he seemed to have forgotten his manners in the moment.

His face hovered mere inches away from hers. Georgette was able to admire every angle of it. There was much to admire. Georgette considered him handsome, to be sure. He sported clean shaven cheeks and jaws, with smooth, dark hair tied back with a piece of ribbon. Everything about his appearance was meticulously clean. Even his teeth were unusually straight, probably not daring to be out of line.

She thought him a fine man indeed. Prince Edward; captain of the Royal British Navy and heir to the throne.

To be matched with a prince was in Georgette’s destiny long before she had reached adulthood. Her father, Lord Harrington, was a good friend of the King, and though Prince Edward was almost a decade her senior, it had been decided that Georgette would marry the Prince when she came of age.

Georgette never questioned it. Having no mother nor siblings, she wanted to please her father and make him proud. The man had endured enough heartache to last a thousand lifetimes, and Georgette was not interested in causing any further pain.

She was raised by the Governess, who taught her all the manners and customs of being a lady in 18th century England. 

She took music lessons, and became quite skilled at the piano. On more than one occasion, the Governess had referred to her needlework as “impressive.”

She could even tolerate sitting with her ankles crossed in a tight corset for six hours straight without having to be excused; a most important skill for royal life. 

Georgette was ready to be a princess of England. She only hoped that she could do her duty to bear the Prince a healthy son.

That, and ignore the substantial pull of the sea. 

They’d lost her mother to the sea when Georgette was just a baby. She’d reluctantly left Georgette behind, and died in a storm on the sea while sailing to France. Since then, her father had forbidden Georgette from ever going near the water. Still, she often found herself gazing upon the ocean from her balcony, daydreaming about a life away from the pressures and responsibilities placed upon her. She’d often see sailboats and all manner of ships come and go from the port, and long for the freedom to sail away into the great blue horizon.

Prince Edward and Georgette began their courtship on her twenty-first birthday. 

All her years of preparation were finally coming to good use, but the Prince seemed set on throwing it all away out here on the palace grounds. He had her hands in a grip as strong as a vice, and she could hear his breaths coming out in short pants. One hot breath tickled her cheek and his smile faded. It was the first time in six months Georgette had seen his regal mask slip.

He dipped his head and shut his eyes, as if to offer a prayer. “Georgette,” he whispered. “I cannot wait to marry you.” 

Hearing her name uttered with such longing sent Georgette’s head into a spin. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. His lips, mere inches away a few moments ago, was suddenly a breath away from hers. They breathed each other’s air for what felt like an eternity.

A squeak and a cough shattered the stillness. The Prince jolted back and dropped her hands as though they were hot coals. Rose had cleared her throat. 

“You must only wait three days more… Edward,” Georgette said, pouring all of the tenderness she felt into the syllables of his name. Prince Edward’s eyes flashed and he turned to beam at her. But a far-off wave crashed and Georgette couldn’t resist glancing at the sea again. The tide had crept in, and she watched the water toss and beat on itself with a little more zeal than usual. She looked back at Prince Edward.

“Pray tell, Edward. Do I please you?”

Prince Edward looked deeply into her eyes, another slight line forming between his brows as though the question had caused offense.

“Yes, Georgette. You are the most beautiful maiden I have ever laid eyes on.”

Georgette forced a smile. Many people had remarked on her rare beauty over the years. She had sun-kissed blonde hair that sparkled in the sunshine like a head-dress of millions of miniature diamonds, and her lips were naturally plump—as red as strawberries. But surely he could see more than that.

“Thank you,” she said, pretending to blush to hide her slight annoyance. “Is there anything else about me that pleases you?”

Prince Edward inclined his head. It reminded Georgette of a confused cocker spaniel for a moment. “I do not believe I understand.”

Georgette swallowed. “How is it, that after all these years, you still do not know me, Edward?” she asked, unable to hide the sharpness in her voice. She pulled her hands away and watched the Prince’s brain at work. He scratched the back of his neck and stared at the ground as if he might find there a piece of parchment with script on what to say next.

“I assure you, I have been counting the days to the night I get to know you.”

Now Georgette blushed for real. “That’s not what I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her throat had gone dry.

“Ma’am, Lord Harrington’s carriage has arrived.”

Georgette jumped at the sound of her maid’s voice and followed Rose’s line of sight. The palace gardens were set on a hill, giving a perfect view of what lay beyond the stone wall encircling the palace. Rose was right. It was still a small object in the distance, but Georgette recognized her father’s carriage by the family crest etched into the frame over one of the doors. 

She removed the Prince’s heavy jacket and gave it back to him. He bowed his head.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Georgette,” he said, folding his jacket over his arm. 

As he escorted her back to the palace, Georgette couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on her. Her irritation faded.

“You will not have to wait long,” she said, glancing at him with a shy smile. “The engagement ball is this evening.” She found it difficult to remain annoyed at the Prince when he looked at her like that.

“Our engagement ball,” he corrected, and his words made Georgette’s heart flutter.

Their engagement ball. The long-awaited event. Every esteemed friend and acquaintance of the royal family would be in attendance. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, and Georgette had spent many late nights practicing her steps for their dance. The Prince must have misinterpreted her anxiety for concern, because he gave her an earnest look.

“Do not worry yourself, my dear,” he said, as she stepped through the palace doors ahead of him. “We have a lifetime to get to know each other.”

* * *

On the way home, Georgette stared out the little window of the carriage, listening to the babble of talk from the city folk walking the streets. A woman reprimanded a child for getting mud on his nice clothes. A man stood on the corner shouting out Bible references, calling all to repentance. Then the carriage passed a group of men chuckling darkly about something. Georgette could not quite make out their words, but she guessed it might have been about the preacher, because they were all looking at him.

The sounds merged into a toneless drone as she became lost in thought.

The Prince was sweet, but she couldn’t ignore her reservations.

It was well known that his mother, the Queen, had fallen out of favor with the King. When that happened, he sent her to the Tower of London, never to be seen again. Soon after, the King announced her dead, and married a new Queen.

Georgette worried. If Prince Edward were to become King and fall out of love with Georgette, would she meet the same fate?

Georgette tugged on the top of her tight bodice and touched her neck, as though checking she was still in one piece. Her fingertips grazed a string of pearls.

It marveled her that her father and the King were so close. She couldn’t imagine her sweet, benevolent father condoning such actions. He worshipped her mother when she was alive, and devoted much of his time to Georgette. They played chess by the fire many a night.

He told her several stories of his travels as a mere sailorman. 

A sudden jolt forced Georgette out of her thoughts. Before she could process what was happening, the carriage tipped sideways and crashed to the ground. Georgette collided with the side of the carriage headfirst, and the world went black.

She woke in a commotion of screams and shouts. An acrid, burning smell clung to the back of her throat. She coughed and struggled to sit up. Disoriented, she looked up at the sound of squealing hinges and blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the open door.

“Take my hand.”

Tanned, callous fingers with golden rings on every digit reached down towards her. Georgette’s first instinct was to bat the hand away, but she held restraint and frowned up at the light instead.

“Take my hand or stay in there and burn.”

Georgette scowled deeper at the harsh tone of the man’s gruff voice and looked around her. The smell of smoke grew stronger and swirling clouds of black seeped in through the slits of the carriage’s woodwork.

“This is your last chance,” the gruff voice warned. Georgette shakily got to her feet, swayed at the thumping pain in her temple, and reached up for her savior’s hand.

As soon as she gripped his wrist, another hand reached down and grabbed her forearm. 

After some grunting above her head, her feet left the ground and Georgette’s upper body emerged through the open door. Now standing next to the man who had pulled her out, Georgette studied his appearance. 

He wore a long leather coat with fine gold buttons running along the seam. A soft, white, ruffled shirt hung open at the chest, giving Georgette an eyeful of the man’s defined and sweat-drenched muscles. 

She fought the urge to recoil. She had never seen a man like him before. Two dark brown eyes met hers, framed with thick black brows, wild dark hair, and a shaggy beard.

The man wrapped his arms around her waist to carry her safely away from the burning carriage and suddenly, she was cradled so close to his body that her ear pressed up against his bare chest and she could hear the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat.

“Hold onto me,” he said, his voice rumbling against Georgette’s ear. She gripped the collar of his soft leather coat, but the man growled with dissatisfaction, took her hands, and placed them around his neck.

“Now wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered.

Georgette gasped as she wondered at the audacity of this stranger.

When she didn’t obey his command, the man lifted her skirts roughly and grabbed a leg. Georgette squeaked. He huffed with impatience.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the carriage is on fire. If you don’t do as I say, we’re both going to be engulfed in flames.”

As though on cue, Georgette began to feel the heat from below. She glanced down, and red flames licked the bottom of her feet. Her heartbeat went wild. Sensing her alarm, the man pinned her thigh to his waist. She wrapped the other leg around him without hesitation. 

“Good girl,” he growled into her neck, and his voice sent a shiver through her body. She tried to ignore it as she focused on clinging onto him while he climbed down.

Georgette had never been this close to a man before. She wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the intimacy causing her to break into a sweat. This was certainly no gentleman, but her body didn’t care.

His wavy, shoulder-length hair smelled of the salty sea. Despite the horrid circumstances, she had never felt more safe in all her life.

When they reached the ground, dark smoke encircled them. Georgette stepped back to look at the man again. There was something familiar about his eyes. They stared back, dark and intense. A wild wiry beard consumed a good portion of his face. She wondered what kind of man was underneath it.

He broke eye contact to secure his sleeve and Georgette followed his movements. Just before he could hide it, she caught sight of the black P burned into his skin. 

She gasped and locked eyes with him again. “You’re a pirate,” she whispered.

Oddly, he grimaced at the word.  Had she caused offense? She opened her mouth to thank him, but found herself whipped into in the arms of Prince Edward instead, who had wrapped her up in a tight hug.

“When I saw the smoke, and then your carriage on its side, my heart stopped. Thank the heavens you are alive.” He held her tight. Georgette frowned into his jacket. The scent of his clean clothes and warm spice did not make her feel anything but numb.

When he pulled back to search her eyes, Georgette forced a brave smile. 

“I’m quite well. Please do not be alarmed. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

Prince Edward squeezed her hands and nodded, then he barked orders to the guards standing by to put out the fire.

Georgette stood frozen on the spot as more people came into view, staring at her like they were looking at a ghost. She was not concerned by the attention, she was scanning the faces, searching…

“How on God’s green Earth did you get out?”

She whipped round to see her father, in his finest clothes, striding toward her. He put his arms around her and she relaxed into his warm embrace. “There was a man,” she mumbled into his chest. Then she pulled back to look again.

But her efforts were fruitless. The man—the pirate—who had saved her, was gone.

“We shall delay the ball, and I insist on escorting you back to the palace. I’ll call for the doctor…” Prince Edward stopped at the sight of Georgette furiously shaking her head.

“No. I am unharmed, and I do not intend to delay our wedding a moment longer,” she said. She had her concerns about joining the royal family, but there was simply nothing more torturous than staying in an anxious limbo for longer than necessary. She would find ways to keep the Prince happy.

Prince Edward’s face lit up, but he forced a serious look a second later and nodded. “At least allow me to take you home in my carriage.”

* * *

Back in her father’s manor, Georgette sat in a tin bath and stared at her knees while her maids poured warm water over her.

It made no difference what the temperature was. She had lost all feeling to a cold numbness since she caught sight of the dark P on the stranger’s hand. For all she knew, they were pouring buckets of ice over her body.

“You’ve had quite the scare, Miss Harrington,” one of the maids commented needlessly. “You’re still trembling.”

Georgette hugged her knees and bit her lip, willing her limbs to still. It was fruitless. Another shiver wracked her. 

“Yes. I dread to think what might have happened if that pirate hadn’t saved me.”

A bucket dropped to the stone floor with a clang. One of the maids bent quickly to retrieve it, babbling a string of apologies. “Ma’am,” another began fearfully. “Did you say, pirate?”

The word pirate was not often uttered in the Harrington household. Or indeed, many homes at Port Harbor. The small town was well known to be far safer than London. So safe, in fact, that the royal family tended to spend most of their time there, instead of in the city. There had not been a pirate attack for more than two years, and the superstitious residents liked to keep it that way by refusing to name them. It was as though the mere utterance of the word pirate would summon them from the far reaches of the sea, to pillage and plunder their town.

“Yes,” Georgette responded calmly. She rubbed a bar of soap over her body. “He was exceedingly ill mannered. But if it weren’t for him, I would surely be dead.”

The maids whispered to each other, and one of them began to wash Georgette’s long hair, so she sat back and shut her eyes while her brain replayed the events.

She could still feel his body heat between her thighs, and his hot breath on her neck. Then she remembered his words as he carried her down.

Good girl.

Her insides flopped like a fish out of water. She squirmed. 

“Ma’am. Are you feeling well? You are flushed.”

Georgette’s eyes snapped open and she looked at the concerned maids staring down at her. Then she forced a smile to suppress the strange and new sensations flooding her body.

“Yes,” she whispered. “In fact, I do believe I’ve never felt more alive.”