too quick for
her.
When she
awakens, she finds more than she bargained for aboard Tristan Hamilton's
ship.
Reviews
Pirates of the
Mist, a rewarding time travel romance laced with unexpected twists and turns, satisfies the heart and
speaks to anyone who's ever felt alone or yearned to fit in."
- Cindy Vallar, Editor of Pirates and Privateers
Pirates of the
Mist by Tracy L. Ranson is a requirement for any shelf
or hard drive. Tracy is a genius in making this novel
come to life. Pirates of the Mist is meant to be savored
and is guaranteed to leave you many breathtaking dreams.
- Kwips and Kritiques
Pirates of the
Mist was really an intriguing story with a totally
unexpected ending. The writing was swiftly-paced, the
characters understandable, and Tracy L. Ranson wove in
strands of history throughout that made the story
unforgettable. This reviewer considers this a highly
recommended read.
- Euro Reviews
Excerpt
“Now, what do we
‘ave ‘ere?”
The thick, British tinged voice pierced her dreams, bringing
her back to reality. Michaela opened her eyes, blinking
hard. The first thing she saw was a ream of scarred, weather
beaten wood underneath her cheek. Where in the world was
she?
Turning, she saw the sun shone brightly overhead. Distantly,
she heard the sound of water splashing against wood, the
slight rocking of the planking beneath her. What sort of
dream was this?
Looking to her left, she saw with horror that she was on
some sort of ship–outfitted with sails and rigging. On the
lower deck were the hands, all staring at her with lecherous
eyes. Quickly she drew back, scrambling to a far corner of
the quarterdeck, trying to get away from them.
“‘Ere, now love, there’s a no bein’ shy,” said an older man,
his frizzy gray hair flying out all around his head. “We ain’
gonna hurt ye.”
“This is all a dream,” she whispered quietly to herself,
willing the dream to go away. “I’ve got to wake up.”
“Ye are awake, my lady,” the man said as he entered the
quarterdeck, his wicked looking cuirass drawn and pointed at
her chest. “Now, tell us how you got on our ship.”
“This is a dream,” she said in a quiet voice, the splinters
of the wooden side digging into her back. “I’m going to wake
up any time now.”
“The only thing you gonna do is see the captain, missy,” the
old man snapped. “If’n he’s in a good mood, he may not make
ye walk the plank.”
“Who is your captain?” she asked, trying to go along with
the dream. Maybe, just maybe, it might help her to wake up.
“That would be me,” issued a male voice from behind the old
man. She heard his boot heels hit the quarterdeck, walking
slowly around her captor, the fear nipping at her very
bones.
A throng of bodies parted, allowing him to come into full
view. She held her breath as her heart thumped uneasily in
her chest. “You’re Captain Tristan Hamilton,” she murmured
and looked away. “Now I know this is a dream.”
“Who are you and how did you get on my ship?” his voice
boomed, cutting through the hostile air, his hands going to
his linen breech clad hips.
For a minute, she couldn’t think about anything but him. He
was too damned handsome for his own good. Auburn hair,
streaked golden by the sun, was long and held back by a
black queue. Loose fitting linen wrapped around his muscular
upper torso, vaguely reminding her of the pirates on some of
the romance novels she’d read.
Her gaze dropped lower. His breeches, snug enough to outline
his powerful thighs, tapered down into his black books
rising over his knees.
“You still haven’t answered my question, woman,” he demanded
as his stare swept over her. “What are you doing on my ship
dressed so strangely?”
“This is just a dream,” she answered. “You were born out of
my fantasy.”
Captain Hamilton continued to stare at her, his dark eyes
conveying his rage. “This is no dream. You are aboard my
ship--uninvited.” He stormed toward her and grabbed her
wrist, dragging her to her feet. “Who brought you here?”
“I don’t know what you’re taking about,” she snapped,
wrenching her wrist free of his grip. “You’re in my dream so
back off, buster.”
A look of stunned surprise crossed his face. “How dare you
speak to me in such a manner!” He towered over her, his
handsome face twisted into a menacing scowl. “I should throw
you overboard.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. No dream figment was
going to intimidate her. “Go ahead, you weasel. I’m not
frightened of you.”
Hushed gasps echoed through the crowd as his face turned to
thunderous mask. “So you are not afraid,” he said in a low,
sharp tone, taking her upper arm in a tight grip. “Let me
see if I can make you afraid.” He jerked her toward the
banister, holding her against it as if he was going to throw
her overboard, pushing her head toward the water. “Afraid
now?”
He frightened her no end but she wasn’t about to show it to
him or anyone else. “Have to do better than that,” she
growled, growing tired of his overbearing attitude.
Silently, she willed that he become a little nicer to her
but he didn’t. What in the hell good was a dream if it
didn’t do what you wanted? “I’m not afraid.”
Captain Hamilton jerked her backwards and spun her around so
that she faced him, his hand gripping her chin hard. “I have
other methods to make you afraid.” His tone was low, almost
sensual despite the evil overtones.
Her knees weakened a little bit but she held her head high.
“I’m sure you do but I don’t have time for this,” she
snapped, trying to get away from him. “I need to wake up.”
Captain Hamilton stepped back, staring at her with dangerous
dark eyes. “You are awake, my dear and angering me no end.
Tell me your name and how you came to be on my ship so that
I can punish that individual who brought you aboard.”
She threw her hands up. “You’re not getting this! I don’t
know how I got there! I woke up and here I was. No one
brought me here!”
He still didn’t believe her, his expression turning more
venomous by the minute. “I suppose I must pick a man out of
the crew and make an example of him since you will not give
me his name that brought you here. Now, what is your name?”
“Michaela,” she said, gulping hard. “What sort of
punishment?”
Captain Hamilton leaned forward, lowering his towering
figure to her height. “Death. Now tell me his name so that
an innocent man does not die for his crime.”
She was horrified. No way did she want someone to die
because of nothing. “Please don’t do that, Captain Hamilton.
I am telling you the truth that I came here by accident,
nothing more. No one brought me here except the fog.”
His expression softened a bit. “Your compassion touches me,”
he said slowly as he circled her predatorily. “Perhaps I
will not have to toss you overboard after all.”
“I thought a man such as yourself would not hurt a woman,”
she stated in a solemn tone. “After all you are a
gentleman.” From what she could remember of his history,
this was entirely true. Maybe, if she appealed to his
compassionate side...
“And a pirate,” he added, halting in mid step and turning to
one of his crew members. “Take her down to my cabin.”
“I’m not going anywhere…”
He stepped forward, towering over her, his eye containing a
dangerous flame. “You will go where I say you will go,” he
snapped, turning to one of his men. “Take her to my cabin
below. I will get my answers there.”
The crewman tipped his fingers. “Aye, Captain.”
The man’s grubby hand slipped around her upper arm and
guided her down the quarter deck stairs. Part of her wanted
to fight but she went along with it, knowing it was nothing
more than a fevered dream. Still, she felt Captain
Hamilton’s stare burn through her back, hot enough to burn
coal. Michaela shivered. It had to be a dream, didn’t it?
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©
2006
All Rights Reserved
