Charlotte dragged her body along the sand, her dress heavy, making it difficult to move. She longed to close her eyes and rest. Her lungs felt tight, and she wheezed between breaths. Further, she pulled herself along, well away from the foamy water dotting the shore like ruffled lace. She had no idea how far the ocean tossed her, or what island she’d washed up on.
Charlotte noticed a dark object appear a mere inch from her face. A black boot, long and shiny. Someone seen her after all. She sighed in relief. Clean clothes and a glass of brandy would help erase the nightmare of the last few hours.
Before she had a chance to express her gratitude, the tip of a sword sank into the sand uncomfortably close to her out-stretched hand. She didn’t consider it a friendly gesture.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to move, my proud beauty.”
The deep voice brought on a sudden burst of goose bumps across her flesh. “Please…” Her voice came out faint, raspy, and it took several tries of clearing her throat before she could finish. “Please. I can hardly move. My muscles ache from head to toe.”
“I only be askin’ once, wench. Move.”
From his gruff tone, she didn’t question how often he got his way. She stared at the black boot, so defiant and firm in its stance. To add insult to injury, he prodded her shoulder with it.
Charlotte rolled herself over, and focused on the blue sky. Scattered white clouds in the formation of doves floated overhead almost close enough to touch, or so it seemed. She glanced to her left and sighed. Pain racked through her tired body repeatedly until the owner of the boot had her full atten-tion.
A devastatingly handsome man stood over her, wearing a black tricorn hat with a crimson feather. The look on his face suggested he knew something she didn’t. He squatted down, his long coat opening wide enough to show a white shirt un-done to his naval, dark knee breeches, and bucket topped boots. A chain hung around his neck with a gold coin at the end that swung in a circle above her head. She shivered as a light breeze stole over her damp skin.
“You’re resting on me swag, lass, and nothing comes be-tween me and my swag.”
Uncharted Territory is available at Amazon
Ann Cory
7 comments:
Ohh I want to know more about him...
I was envisioning Johnny Depp... very visual
(you might wish to double check your grammar)
I've never seen "bucket topped boots". What a word picture in my mind! LOL.
He sounds dangerous, in more ways than one.
Ooo intriguing sample!
Oh, now that is interesting... :) More please.
I had a wonderful time writing about a pirate. I LOVE pirates - and can't believe I didn't write one sooner. Thanks for stopping by Savannah!! *hugs*
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