How To Please a Pirate (3 page)

“For that you have my profoundest apologies,”
Gabriel said. “If I was the one who brought you down, it was purely
unintentional. I was defending myself, you see, and didn’t have
time to notice your . . . finer qualities.”

She wouldn’t give Captain Drake the
satisfaction of knowing that one of the men she’d lead there was
responsible for knocking her senseless.

“I make it a policy never to strike a woman,”
he explained. “Not when there are so many more pleasurable things
to do with one.”

His voice was a rumbling purr at her ear, a
beguiling summons to something dark and sinful. She squeezed her
eyes shut against the fleshly possibilities his words conjured. So
must the Serpent have sounded to Eve. Jacquelyn would not give in
to her baser nature.

He urged his mount into a canter and the
rolling gait forced her to move in tandem with him, her body rising
and falling with his. The heat from his thighs radiated through the
thin homespun of her breeches. Warmth pooled between her legs.

“If you don’t release me at once, I will
report you to the magistrate,” she threatened. “Lord or not, if
you’ve played the pirate, no doubt there’s a price on your head.
Squire Ramskelter will see you hanged at the next assizes.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, but that were no good,
Miss Wren,” Meriwether said. “I’ll warrant there’s them what would
like to see Drake the Dragon dance the hempen jig, but Cap’n
Gabriel got himself a royal pardon. Him and all what sailed with
him. His Royal Majesty is content to let bygones be bygones. But
Cap’n,” here the aging sea dog turned a rheumy eye on her
tormentor, “ye’re still bound by the Code same as ever ye
were.”

“A pirate’s code?” Jacquelyn asked in
horrified fascination. Were there proper rules for rape and
pillage?

“Aye, Cap’n Gabriel drew up the articles
himself, so he did. And every man-jack of us signed on. Himself
included!” Meriwether worried his scraggly beard, like a dog
chasing its fleas. Jacquelyn shivered in disgust. “And seems to me
Article Number Nine goes something like—”

“I remember the bloody code, Meri.” Gabriel
Drake’s grip around her waist eased by the tiniest of margins.

“Well, I don’t,” she said. “Pray, what is
Article Number Nine?”

“Let me see if I can recollect it entire.”
Meri tapped his temple. “Ah! Here ‘tis.
‘If a Man meets a Woman
of Prudence and offers to meddle with her without her Consent, the
Crew shall suffer that Man to be done to Death presently,’
”
Meriwether recited.

He gave his captain a pointed look.

Jacquelyn straightened her spine and held
herself away from the broad expanse of Gabriel Drake’s chest. A
pirate’s code was a small enough shield, but it was all she
had.

“Thank you, Mr. Meriwether,” she said, liking
him better by the moment, despite his deplorable hygiene and recent
threat to fry her liver. “Your code sounds almost civilized.”

“Meri, remember that the Code specifies the
wench in question must be a woman of prudence. What about Jack here
makes you think she fits that description?” Gabriel asked. “No
proper lady would put herself forward as a lad.”

“I didn’t know the fellows I was meeting,”
Jacquelyn said, irritated that she must explain herself to this
disturbing man. “It seemed more
prudent
to present myself as
a boy than as a woman.”

“Not necessarily, Miss Wren,” Meri said.
“There’s places in this funny ol’ world where a pretty little boy
is at risk of buggery every bit as much as a pretty young lady.”
The old salt’s ears turned bright red when he realized the wholly
improper nature of what he’d just said to her. “But I reckon you’ve
the right of it, in Cornwall at least. She seems a mighty prudent
woman to me, Cap’n.”

With a snort, Gabriel Drake slowed his mount
to a walk and let his arm drop from its place around her waist. He
rested his long-fingered hand on his own thigh. But she was still
wedged between the big man’s legs, and no help for it unless he
allowed her to dismount and walk. At least he’d left off
manhandling her as if she was a common strumpet. Jacquelyn was
chagrined to discover her nipples still tingled.

She hastily refastened her remaining buttons,
lest he change his mind.

“So let me understand this, Miss Wren. You
were warned of my coming. How?”

“A note came to the keep bearing a royal
seal.”

She felt him stiffen behind her.

“So much for my pardon,” he said. “Signed by
whom?”

“There was no signature,” she admitted. “But
the seal spoke for itself and the men were waiting for me with
their own official orders.”

“So, someone you don’t know sends you a note
telling you to meet some men, whom you also don’t know for the
purpose of waylaying yet another man you don’t know.” The rich bass
timbre of his voice rumbled along her spine. “I have to ask why a
woman of prudence would agree to such a scheme.”

“I don—”

“If you say you don’t know, I shall have to
rethink my policy about striking a woman,” Gabriel warned. “An
exception might be made for your bonny backside.”

Her bum warmed rosily at this suggestion.
Perhaps she was more her mother’s daughter than she wanted to
admit. She swallowed her annoyance at her body’s strange reaction
to this man.

“I was going to say, that I don’t take
threats to those I love lightly.” The tremor in her voice upset her
even more than his nearness. She must not show weakness before this
pirate. “The note said a new lord was coming to claim Dragon Caern
and, young and old, he would turn everyone in the keep out to
starve. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

“Neither could I,” he said. “Dragon Caern
Castle is my home, Miss Wren. Having made peace with my Sovereign,
I thought to undertake the harder path and make peace with my
father as well. With my brother ever in favor, I never thought to
be lord of the place. Last I heard, Rupert had married and was
busily engaged in producing an heir.” He fell silent for the space
of several heartbeats. “I can’t believe they’re both gone.”

She felt him take a shuddering breath. Was it
possible for a pirate to feel sorrow?

“Did my brother leave no son?”

“No,” she said softly. “His lady wife died in
childbed trying to bring a stillborn boy into the world.”

That much at least was true. Gabriel Drake
didn’t need to know everything.

“Then you won’t evict your tenants and
retainers to make room for your own people?” she asked.

They topped the rise and stopped to look down
on the square tower of Dragon Caern Castle. Perched on a small spit
of land overhanging the roiling sea, the grey, weathered stone
almost seemed to have grown there instead of being built by man.
Thatch-roofed cottages dotted the verdant lowlands. As far as eye
could see, narrow brown roads stretched like spokes of a giant’s
wheel leading to the safety of the keep.

“My own people,” Gabriel repeated softly.
“Since the pardon, my crew is gone, scattered to the four winds.
Other than Meri here, I have no people.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder for a
moment. The pressure was light, but she sensed his bridled
strength. When he withdrew it, she breathed a small sigh of relief.
This man unsettled her thoroughly.

“I give you my word, Miss Wren. None who live
here have aught to fear from me.”

The way he set her insides quaking, she took
leave to doubt it.

“Appears to me ye’ve made a well-placed
enemy, Cap’n. Who do ye suppose at Court didn’t want ye coming
home?” Meriwether asked.

“That seems to be the question, doesn’t it?
We’ll have to satisfy ourselves on that point, but for now, I
am
almost home. A sad homecoming to be sure, but home
nonetheless.” He waved his arm expansively. “When you pulled me
from the water, Meri, I never thought to see it again. You were my
boon companion through dangerous seas. Welcome to Dragon Caern
Castle, Joseph Meriwether.”

“Ach! Don’t take on so, Cap’n,” Meri
protested. “Ye saved me miserable neck countless times since.”

Jacquelyn was surprised by the deep fealty
between these two obvious scallywags. Who would have thought
pirates capable of such ordinary feelings as friendship?

“Now that you’re a man of leisure, whatever’s
mine is yours, mate,” Gabriel said.

Meri’s eyebrows shot skyward. “This castle o’
yers have a wine cellar, by chance?”

Gabriel loosed a full, deep-throated laugh.
“Used to be one of the best in Cornwall.”

“Well, then.” Meriwether drummed his heels on
his horse’s flanks. “I’ll leave ye know me opinion on it this
evening,” he called over his shoulder as he cantered down the
hill.

Gabriel nudged his mount into a walk.

“We should go faster,” Jacquelyn suggested.
Mr. Meriwether’s absence made her even more apprehensive about
being so close to Captain Gabriel Drake. “Aren’t you anxious to be
home?”

“Miss Wren, my mother died when I was born.
My father and brother are both gone. There doesn’t seem to be a
need to hurry now, does there?”

His sense of loss seemed genuine.

The folk of Dragon Caern Castle had bitterly
mourned the passing of Lady Helen, the hope of an heir dying with
her. Then old Lord Rhys was gashed by a boar in a hunting accident.
When Lord Rupert was taken by a raving fever a week later, folk
spoke of curses coming in threes.

But since then, life had settled into a
comfortable rhythm. The denizens of the keep rejoiced in the
relative obscurity of their small corner of the world. It allowed
them to continue in peace without interference from the Crown.

The note warning of a new lord who would
upset the natural order of things threatened all that.

Jacquelyn twisted around to look over her
shoulder at Gabriel Drake. His gaze was fixed on the distant keep,
his mouth drawn in a tight grim line. Perhaps, just perhaps, he
might not be too bad a lord for the folk of the Caern.

Then he looked down at her. With his
square-jaw, hawkish nose and dark eyes glinting with the feral
gleam of the darker soul behind them, the rogue had no right to be
so devilishly handsome. A wicked smile tugged at his mouth.

“You know of course, Miss Wren, woman of
prudence or not, I do intend to meddle with you.”

“But the Code—”

“Only requires that I have your consent.” He
traced his thumb across her lower lip. Jacquelyn froze like a coney
caught in the gaze of an adder.

He lowered his face to hers and took her
mouth, gently at first, then with more insistence. His lips were
warm and they slanted over hers with assurance. She knew she should
pull away, but his mouth beguiled her.

The man is a pirate, for pity’s sake.

Her heart pounded as if she’d just climbed to
the top of the keep. Her mouth parted softly as his tongue invaded
her, searching out her secrets and sending delight shivering over
her. Everything inside her went soft and liquid. His warmth flooded
her senses. She was drowning in this man.

And not caring one whit.

Then he stopped and pulled back to look down
at her. A dark brow rose in satisfaction.

“I’ll take that as consent, Miss Wren.”

When he lowered his mouth to hers once more,
she grasped a thin slice of sanity. Passion was her mother’s curse,
not hers. She took his lower lip between her teeth and bit him as
hard as she could.

“There’s my consent, Captain!”

“What the devil—” He loosed an oath that
turned the air blue, but released his hold on her. She threw her
leg over the horse’s neck and slid off. Fast as her feet could
carry her, she made for the keep, his string of profanities fading
behind her.

She’d angered her new lord, but she didn’t
care. However much her body warmed to Gabriel Drake, she would not
be taken for a trollop. He needed to know that Jacquelyn Wren was
no man’s plaything.

And certainly no pirate’s.

She’d deal with his wrath later when they
were on safer ground.

Her ground.

Dragon Caern Castle was her home, every bit
as much as it was his. Surely, with the help of the folk of the
keep, she could bring this new lord to heel.

She glanced over her shoulder, relieved to
see that he had not spurred his horse into a canter after her. But
just before she sprinted across the drawbridge, she heard him
laugh. Raw-timbred and deep, the sound floated down the hill after
her.

It did not bring her comfort.

After all, what a pirate wants, a pirate
takes.

Jacquelyn didn’t slow her pace as she raced
through the outer barbican and into the bailey. Like most castles,
Dragon Caern had started as merely a stone tower on a naturally
defensible spot. Subsequent lords added their own stamp to the
fastness, some less than a shining success. Over the years, certain
parts of Dragon Caern were left to go derelict as the needs of its
inhabitants changed.

In the peace of recent times, she’d judged it
more important to make certain the granary was always full than to
keep the defensive portions of the castle at peak operation. Now
Jacquelyn bitterly regretted that the murder holes had been filled
in and hot oil could no longer rain down on the approaching new
lord.

“Mistress Wren! Thank the saints and angels
you’re here!” Mrs. Beadle said as Jacquelyn flew into the main
hall. The housekeeper’s round face flushed crimson in agitation.
When her gaze swept Jacquelyn’s bruised temple and boyish garb,
Mrs. Beadle’s brows lowered. “You’re hurt. And what are you doing
dressed in those rags, Mistress?”

“I suspect it looks worse than it feels.”
Jacquelyn winced when she put a hand to the bruise. Then she waved
it away. If another blow would send Gabriel Drake back to the sea,
she’d accept it willingly. “I was trying to stop something from
happening but it appears there is no help for it. Pray, don’t
ask.”