Oceans Apart
Author
Lottie Tait
Reads
90.0K
Chapters
49
Mira Jones thought her obsession with the Golden Age of Piracy was all books and relics—until a mysterious artifact flings her back to the 18th century. Stranded on the exotic isle of Tortuga, she navigates a world of treachery, danger, and temptation at every turn. The pirate she has spent her career studying, Lorenzo Sosa, is alive, irresistible, and dangerously unpredictable. Every step brings adventure, every glance sparks desire, and every choice could decide her fate. In a world where swords clash as often as hearts, can Mira survive—and surrender to the pull she can’t resist?
Chapter 1: Out of Time
MIRA
Sand.
Cold grit pressed against my cheek.
A groan slipped past my lips. For a second, I couldn’t understand where I was—only that the air I dragged into my lungs tasted wrong.
Salt-heavy. Damp and old. My fingers dug into the ground beneath me, grains shifting through my grip until I found purchase against stone. Not polished museum floor. Not my office chair.
My head pounded, each pulse sending a sharp throb behind my eyes. Slowly, I forced them open. Sunlight streamed through the mouth of a cave.
I froze.
That wasn’t right.
The last thing I remembered was my office. Fluorescent light. The shipment. The compass—
My stomach twisted, nausea flooding me. I had to be dreaming. I pushed myself upright. The world tilted sharply, as though I’d been dropped into it mid-motion.
The cavern stretched wide, jagged stone glistening with moisture, droplets falling in steady rhythm from the ceiling. Beyond, waves lapped gently against rocks, the sound almost…peaceful.
I closed my eyes, telling myself this wasn’t real. The smell of the sea flooded my senses, damp air clinging to my skin.
My clothes felt wrong—creased, windswept, as though I’d been dragged through the elements rather than sitting at my desk like I’d been hours ago.
Wait. Was it hours…or had it been longer?
“Has anyone searched the cave?”
My breath hitched.
“No, Admiral.”
Footsteps echoed. Panic clawed through my chest as I tried to orient myself.
“Then I suggest you take William and search the grounds. You know what we seek.”
My pulse slammed against my ribs as I dropped behind the nearest rock, pressing myself into the cold stone.
Two men entered the cave.
Not just men—soldiers.
Two men garbed in dark blue coats marched into the entrance of the sea cave. I stole a quick glance before ducking down behind the boulder, cataloging their appearance. Both wore breeches and a cotton shirt hidden under a yellow waistcoat. Cravats tucked neatly under the lapels of their navy coats, finished with a tricorne hat edged in gold stitching.
An outfit worthy of the eighteenth-century sailor.
That thought hit me like a physical blow.
None of this made any sense.
Both men began searching, their movements methodical. I shrank farther into my hiding place, barely daring to breathe as one of them stopped by the rock shielding me.
“Does he really expect us to find anything?” one muttered.
The other huffed. “You know the answer, Edward. He won’t stop until he finds that compass. The sea witch’s tale still has him convinced—”
My thoughts locked onto one word—compass.
The blood in my veins ran cold.
Black casing. Gold trim. Needle spinning wildly beneath my fingertips—right before everything went dark.
“Well,” a voice drawled.
Boots appeared in my line of sight. Slowly, I lifted my gaze. A smug smile greeted me.
“This is a lovely surprise. Wait till the admiral sees what…treasure…we found.”
I straightened my spine as I met the man’s gaze. “I am no ‘treasure,’” I spat back.
I wasn’t some helpless castaway. I was a conservator. A historian. I handled centuries-old artifacts for a living and had spent a year buried in accounts of Sosa’s boarding actions—something that had sent me looking for the truth behind the parchment.
Committed to my searches, I’d even taken up Tuesday evenings at a poky historical fencing club near the museum, learning to move a blade the way his men would have, and quiet, furious mornings at the knife range I’d started haunting after Johnathon, throwing until my hands finally stopped shaking. Not soldier good. But good enough that I knew which end of a knife did the damage.
This was not happening.
His smile morphed into anger. He reached down, grabbing my arm tightly, hoisting me up from where I was crouched. The force of his pull shocked me, fingers biting into my skin.
I stumbled, barely catching my footing as another man seized my other arm, locking me between them.
“Let go of me,” I snapped, grappling against their hold. It was useless. Their grip was iron.
Something cold and heavy settled in my chest. This wasn’t a dream—I hadn’t dozed off at my desk, lost in research again.
The thought hit me like a wave crashing over my head, dragging me under. This was real.
The men pulled me from the cave, sunlight blinding as we emerged onto the shoreline. I squinted against it, my breath catching as the sight before me came into focus.
A ship. Massive. Imposing. Its sails stretched wide, a British flag billowing in the sea breeze.
My legs weakened underneath me as the men came to a stop behind a taller man, dressed in similar attire. Though his hat was different, gold plumage on the crown. His blonde hair was swept back into a tail, tied with ribbon to keep it in place.
He stood, composed. Commanding.
“Admiral, we could not find the compass,” the one to my right said, his tone cautious.
The admiral’s shoulders stiffened.
“Though we did find something of worth.”
He turned, gaze settling on me, as though assessing every inch. A sharp, poisonous shade of green slithered over me like a snake. A smirk tugged at his lips.
“Where did you find this…stunning creature?” His voice was smooth.
“I am no creature,” I snapped, lifting my chin despite the fear clawing up my throat.
His eyes gleamed. “Spirited. I like that.”
One of the men hoisted me up, his grip slackening. “Found her in the cave; doesn’t appear to be hurt,” the one to my left answered. “Too clean-cut to have come ashore with wreckage.”
“Thank you, William. You may leave us.” The man gave a curt nod and let go of my arm. “You too, Edward.”
They both dropped my arm instantly and stomped away. A dull ache pulsed beneath my sleeve—I was certain they’d left a bruise. They stormed over to a small sailboat, leaving me alone with the admiral. I watched, taking in the strange surroundings.
A hand came up—too fast—gripping my chin and forcing my face toward the man’s. I stiffened, every nerve in my body screaming at the contact.
I studied him despite myself. Sun-kissed skin. Sharp cheekbones. A face that might have been handsome—if not for the coldness in his eyes.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft, “how did you end up in that cave?”
My breathing snagged as his hand moved slowly down the side of my throat, his fingers leaving a blazing trail of repulsion burning in their wake. He stopped at my shoulder, brushing a strand of my hair away.
“You can trust me.” His voice was deadly quiet, a silent threat drifting through the soft waves as they flowed against the cove’s tide.
“I…I think…”
My voice wavered as panic took root.
His brow arched slightly as I spoke. “An Englishwoman.” His hand dropped as he gave a short dip of his head. “I am Admiral Thomas Helston. At your service, my lady.”
No…that wasn’t—
His name hit me like a blow to the chest.
I’d spent a year researching him—his campaigns, his brutality, and most of all, his rivalry with Captain Lorenzo Sosa.
This couldn’t be happening.
He stepped closer, studying my reaction. “What is your name?”
I considered lying—but dismissed it instantly. If this truly was the Thomas Helston—he’d see through it. “Mira Jones.”
He nodded, absorbing the information. He stepped to my side, offering his arm. I hesitated briefly before taking it, allowing him to guide me across the cove.
“I must confess, Miss Jones…I find it curious that an Englishwoman would be washed ashore on a Spanish island.”
Unease crept through me. Spanish island? Last I checked, I had been in England. In my office.
“Not a siren, are you, Miss Jones?” His eyes glinted with humor, although the same could not be said about his tone.
I considered my options but was left with nothing. What on earth was I meant to say?
Cautiously, I flashed him a coy smile. “No, definitely not that.” I scanned the horizon out in front of us, an idea sparking to life. “My boat capsized… I managed to make it to the shore, but…”
“With someone, were you?”
My gaze flew to him. His eyes sharpened, and I nodded solemnly. If he bought my lie, then I would be safe. For now.
“In that case, I am sorry for your loss.”
I quickly dropped my gaze to the sand before I could be caught out. “Where are you taking me now?” I asked softly.
Stopping by the sailboat that William and Edward were waiting in, Helston helped me into the wooden vessel, the portrayal of a perfect gentleman. Though I knew better.
“Back to my ship.” His smile became serpentine. “Where we can continue our conversation.”
***
“Welcome to the Endeavor, Miss Jones.”
The ship was large and extravagant, the air coated in the sickening scent of sweat and gunpowder. Each of the men paused in their labor, taking in the sight of me walking alongside the admiral. Confusion and scrutiny etched into their gaze.
Helston strode purposefully past each worker, snapping his fingers at the youngest members of his crew. The crack of a whip sounded through the air, and I gritted my teeth, trying not to show the fear that was clawing through me.
“Just ignore the crew; they have rarely seen a woman aboard a ship before. It’s a spectacular sight for them, as you can imagine.” The admiral’s gaze sliced toward me, quickly flicking down my body.
I took a fortifying breath. “I’m sure.”
“Some say a woman aboard is bad luck. That the ship she boards will sink in a matter of minutes.” A deceptively charming smile appeared. “But that’s just a sea tale pirates share to spread fear into the hearts of their shipmates.”
A faint recollection of a piece of parchment with a similar scripture flashed through my mind.
“A sea tale,” I murmured, trying to piece together the memory that flitted away.
The admiral flicked the iron latch on the door and stepped back, sweeping an elegant arm out for me to enter. I proceeded forward into what could only have been his quarters.
The space was adorned with glass cases, glowing with candlelight that swayed with each strike of the waves.
My feet moved across the room before I stood beside the chair opposite the admiral’s.
“Please, sit. We have a lot to discuss.” Helston’s voice was smooth.
He gestured toward a wooden chair, and I gave a weak smile in return. Sitting down, I tossed a look over my shoulder as the sound of the door closing reverberated through me. One of the crew members stood to attention, his expression utterly bland.
Blowing out a calm, steady breath, I willed my tone to remain neutral as I spoke. “What is it you wish to discuss, Admiral?”
A slow smile appeared. “First of all, call me Thomas. It’s much easier than my title.”
I wrung my hands together anxiously on my lap under the table. “Are you sure?” I knew that not even the closest members of his crew would dare to call him by his name… Whatever game he was playing, I had to remain vigilant.
“Positive.” He eased back in his chair, his gaze assessing me. “Second thing, Miss Jones, is that I must inform you that while you are aboard my ship, you are a prisoner.”
Shock rippled through me.
“Do you understand?”
The vicious glare in his gaze shone brightly in the dull candlelight.
“I understand.” I paused, thinking on my feet. I dipped my head in submission, peering up at him through my lashes. “Thomas.”
An arched eyebrow shot up, impressed. “Ah, a fast learner, I see. You impress me, my lady.”
I flashed him a small smile. “I am pleased you think so.”
“Miss Jones, I must be blunt…” He tipped his head, studying me like I was a painting on his wall. “How you ended up in a cave on the coast of Tortuga, alone, is beyond my scope of thought. Care to enlighten me as to how you arrived there?”
Tortuga?
He couldn’t be serious.
“I…”
Thomas pushed himself up from his chair before he stalked around the table. His fingertips danced along the edge.
“I explained when your men grabbed me. My boat capsized. I managed to make it to the shore and remained in the cave’s shelter to recover.”
Could he hear how erratically my heart was beating right now?
Thomas’s hand trailed up and over the edge of the chair I was sitting on, inches away from my shoulder.
To touch a woman without her approval in this time period was inconceivable. He wouldn’t dare if he were a gentleman, like he claimed.
A mask I feared he wore too well.
His hand lightly rested on my shoulder, drawing a gasp from me. “Please accept my apology, because I do not for a single moment believe that tale you spin so prettily.”
I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into the flesh of my palms. “It’s true.”
His grip tightened, the pads of his strong fingers pushing against the pulse point on my neck. I reactively clawed at his hand, trying to rip it free from me, screaming.
The admiral leaned down, pressing harder. “If you won’t tell me now, then some time in the brig may loosen your tongue,” he snarled.
The once steady beat of my pulse fluttered out of rhythm as darkness clouded my vision.
“I will get you to talk, Miss Jones. I always do.”
