Author and Publisher: Joy Lynn Fielding
Cover Artist: Getcovers
Release Date: August 30, 2023
Genre: Historical/pirate M/M romance
Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, hurt/comfort
Themes: Emotional scars, self-forgiveness, self-discovery, finding home
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 88 000 words
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Crispin is looking for a way to escape when disaster strikes the ship. Beset by danger, Billy and Crispin have to work together. But how can they trust one another when they detest everything the other stands for?
Trigger Warning: Please note this book contains material some people may find upsetting. The content warning page on my website gives further details.
Down in the dark, stifling bowels of the ship, where the stink of bilge water and damp made Crispin’s eyes water, Billy gave him a lantern and a ledger. “Start here and mark the precise quantity of everything against its entry on the list.”
The hold contained an esoteric selection of goods—cotton, spices, cocoa, rum, and those were merely the first things Crispin saw. The only things they had in common were that they were easy to transport and of high value. At least they were all lashed down tightly. In his poor opinion of pirates, he kept forgetting they were experienced sailors.
The afternoon crept by as they worked in silence, and the hold grew ever more claustrophobic. Still Crispin worked diligently. His throat grew parched and he needed a drink, but he wasn’t going to ask for anything. Occasionally he’d look at Billy, who appeared immersed in his own work and entirely unaware of Crispin’s presence. Yet something in Billy’s fierce concentration suggested he was very aware of Crispin’s scrutiny.
Completing his counting of boxes of cocoa, Crispin made a neat entry in the ledger, and moved a couple of paces to investigate a large chest. He dragged it forward to open it, kicking away the rat his movements disturbed. Puzzled by the clothes the chest contained, he sorted through the top few layers and swiftly realised this wasn’t cargo taken from a ship but stolen personal effects. Crispin’s breath caught as he lifted out a blue brocade frock coat, splendidly embroidered in gold thread. He knew the coat, as he did the gold silk waistcoat lying beneath it. Mr Spencer had worn them every Sunday when conducting the service. His eyes misted red with impotent fury.
It took him a moment to compose himself. When he called out to Billy, his voice was unsteady from the anger he couldn’t banish completely. “How should I record these?”
Billy slipped around the edge of the crowded hold with the ease either of long practise or natural grace. “Clothes to go before the mast for distribution,” he said, as he saw the chest’s contents. “We don’t need any further details.”
“These are going to be pawed through by the crew to take whatever they like?” Outrage surged through Crispin. “What about the people you stole them from? What are they supposed to wear?”
Billy looked at him then, for the first time all afternoon. He’d tied his hair back earlier, and it somehow emphasised his cheekbones, making his beauty even more unearthly. But the Archangel Gabriel would never have had such scorn in his eyes. “They’re rich. They’ll buy more.”
Crispin shook his head as he thought of Mr Spencer’s cabin. He’d certainly had better victuals than the crew and his own supply of wine, as well as a painting that Crispin had presumed was of his wife, but it had been nothing like Captain Smythe’s cabin. That had been filled with luxury, with furniture designed for beauty as well as use, and his dining table had seen meat served every day on china plates alongside wine in glass goblets laced with silver. “This coat belongs to the master on the Eurydice,” he said, lifting it up to show Billy. “You have no idea if he’s rich—you stole it from him because he couldn’t stop you.”
The pirate simply raised an insolent eyebrow before wandering back to what he’d been doing. Crispin carefully folded Mr Spencer’s coat and decided not to dig any further into the chest, for he realised he would probably find his own best coat. And then a thought hit him, and he searched swiftly through the clothes, hoping to find his razor or knife. He’d like his compass back as well, but that wouldn’t be so immediately useful. Disappointingly, he found the chest contained only clothes.
He stood, aimed a fulminating glare at Billy, who was silently engaged in cataloguing everything he and his crew had stolen, and returned to his task.
About the Author. . .
Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she indulges her passions for vintage aircraft, horse riding and gardening (though not all at the same time).
Joy tends to wax lyrical about the fascinating facts she discovers during her research for books. Thankfully, she has a very patient Labrador who has a gift for looking interested in what she’s saying while he waits for the food to arrive.
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