The Pirate Lord (10 page)

Petey groaned. He’d nearly lost his bloomin’ breakfast when the pirate captain had spoken of marooning him. It was a common practice among pirates, to be sure, and the thought of it terrified Petey. Thank the good Lord he’d thought to mention Father. Of course, Petey had exaggerated his own ability. He didn’t know as much as he’d let on. And what did a pirate want with a butcher, anyway?

Slanting his hand over his eyes to block out the light of the dying sun, Petey looked up to where the Pirate Lord paced the quarterdeck, his large hands clenched together behind his back and his face drawn in anger. He’d been in a foul mood ever since he’d called for the men to assemble on deck and had sent for the women.

Petey wondered if the little miss had something to do with it. She had a tongue on her, it was true, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d used it to chastise the captain. For her sake, he hoped not. Anybody could see that the Pirate Lord wasn’t to be trifled with.

Suddenly the women emerged from the hatch behind Petey, led by Miss Willis. He caught her eye as she passed with them in tow, but she could only give him a helpless look before she went on.

“What’s this all about?” he heard a man mutter beside him. It was the one who’d passed out the food a few hours ago, a man named Silas.

The first mate answered. “I don’t know. But that Lady Sara has something to do with it. You can be sure of that.”

Petey swallowed. Pray God she hadn’t condemned all the women to some horrible fate with her troublemaking, though he had to admit the women had been treated well thus far. He scanned the crowd, looking for little Ann, but she was so short he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her.

As soon as the women had gathered on deck, the Pirate Lord beckoned to Miss Willis to join him on the quarterdeck, and she went, though her face wore a wary expression that made Petey anxious. Once she stood at the captain’s side, nearly dwarfed by the fearsome man’s great height, the captain began to speak.

At first Petey could hardly believe the man’s words. A colony? The pirates were starting a colony? And they wanted the women to join them as wives? When the Pirate Lord had taken the ship and said they wanted wives, Petey had thought it some wicked joke. But apparently the bastard meant it.

Pirates settling down? Who’d have thought it? Pirates generally loved their gold too much to settle anywhere. But the other pirates behaved as if this was no news to them. Indeed, Petey could see them looking the women over already, trying to decide which ones they wanted.

A shiver passed through him. His little Ann would be taken by one of them. Nay, that couldn’t be! If Petey was one of the pirates now, he’d be allowed a wife as well, wouldn’t he? And he would fight any man for Ann.

After that, Petey only listened with half a mind to the conditions that the captain had placed upon the courtship—that the elderly women would be exempt and the children would go with their mothers. All Petey could think of was Ann…how sweet it would be to have her to wife…how grateful she’d be to him for saving her from these pirates…how much he wanted to kiss her.

His pleasant musings were abruptly shattered when the first mate called out, “And what of the earl’s sister, captain? Must she choose a husband as well? Or are we to assume she’s already taken?”

Amidst the chuckles of the pirates, Miss Willis stared ahead in stony silence, her cheeks red as a dawn sky. Petey held his breath, waiting for the pirate captain’s answer.

Captain Gideon cast his first mate a quelling glance. “You may not assume anything, Mr. Kent. And yes, she’ll choose a husband like the rest.”

A shiver of horror snaked through Petey. The bloomin’ blighter! Force Miss Willis to marry one of these pirates? But that was unthinkable! Not a lady like her!

All his dreams of marrying Ann vanished. If Miss Willis was included in the women to be courted, Petey had only one choice: he must do his duty by her. He’d have to marry her—or at least pretend to marry her—to protect her from those other bounders until he could restore her to her brother safely.

Oh, but Ann—

Petey sternly scolded himself. Ann was a pretty little thing, to be sure, but his duty must come first. He couldn’t let his family down by ignoring Miss Willis’s welfare.

Captain Gideon was scowling now, as if the topic of Miss Willis’s future husband didn’t sit well with him either. But he continued speaking, his voice even and cold. “Now that you know the situation, boys, I expect you to behave with discretion. We want to start a colony, not a bawdy house. You’ll treat the women with respect or you’ll answer to me for it.”

Miss Willis glanced at him, surprise on her face, but he ignored her. “Barring any bad weather, we should reach the island in two days. Until then, your duties will remain the same as usual, but you may visit with the
women during your free time. See that you don’t neglect your duties to do your courting.”

His gaze fell on the mass of uniformed women that split the crowd of pirates in half, like a pretty ribbon tied to a black post. “The women will be allowed freedom of the ship as long as they don’t interfere with the running of it. But at night they’ll be locked in the hold and a guard posted in case any of you think to have the wedding night before the wedding.”

Some of the men grumbled, but that quickly subsided when their captain frowned at them. Then he looked over the crowd, his gaze stopping on the man beside Petey. “Silas, I’m charging you with finding out what skills the women have. And make a list of what tools they’ll need for sewing and such. Although we’d best steer clear of Santiago for a while, once we’ve reached Atlantis, I may send a few men back to one of the other Cape Verde islands for additional supplies.”

“The women already have the necessary tools for sewing,” Miss Willis broke in. She’d been quiet all this while, so the sound of her firm but gentle voice after the captain’s harsh, commanding one came as quite a shock. “They were given implements and some cloth aboard the
Chastity
, and I believe most of them brought them aboard the
Satyr
.”

The captain turned to her as if he’d noticed her standing there for the first time. There was no mistaking his dislike at having his speech interrupted. “Thank you for your informative report, Miss Willis,” he said dryly. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

Under the force of his gaze, she colored, but stood her ground. “Well, yes, there is. If you don’t object, Captain, I’d like to continue with the reading and writing lessons I’ve been giving the women.” When Captain Horn raised an eyebrow, she hurriedly added, “Any of the men who’d like to join us may do so.”

That brought a loud chorus of laughter from the pirates, and for a moment, Petey thought he saw the cap
tain himself smile. But when the Pirate Lord turned back to his men, it was gone. “You heard what Miss Willis said, boys. You may join the ladies for schooling, if you like. But only when you’re not on watch.” He cast a long, hard glance over the crew, then added, “You’re dismissed. Behave yourselves.”

As the crew dispersed, Petey waited on his perch, since he couldn’t get back to sanding the deck until it was cleared. While he waited, he watched the captain, whose eyes were on Miss Willis. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the captain followed her every move. But others noticed.

“No matter what the cap’n says, he wants that girl for himself,” Silas said a few feet away from Petey.

Petey stole a glance at Barnaby, who looked skeptical.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Barnaby said. “She’s an English noblewoman, and you know how he feels about them.”

“I don’t care if she’s a damned Hottentot from the South Seas. Didn’t you see the way the man looked at her? Like he hadn’t had a good meal in two weeks and she was a prime bit of beef.” Silas tapped the tip of his pipe against his teeth. “Aye, he wants her all right. The trick will be gettin’ her to choose him.”

“That should be no problem. Any woman Gideon wants, he gets. If indeed he wants her, he’ll have her begging him to marry her before the week is out, mark my words.”

Petey turned to gape at the two men in horror. It was one thing to try to protect Miss Willis from one of the other pirates by marrying her. But to go against the Pirate Lord? God help him, that would be like putting his mouth in the maw of a shark!

Suddenly Barnaby seemed to feel Petey’s eyes on him. He fixed Petey with a stern gaze. “What are you looking at, mate? Go on with you! Get to your duties!”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Petey mumbled. He walked toward where he’d left the deck bucket and picked up the stone
the sailors called a “prayer book,” a palm-sized soft stone used for sanding the hard-to-reach spots of the deck. But as he dropped to his knees and began scrubbing the teak boards with wet sand, he couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Willis. He had to find a way to speak to her. He had to warn her to tread carefully around the captain.

Because if she weren’t very careful, Petey might find himself having to do something drastic to protect her from the Pirate Lord. And he didn’t relish having a set-to with that monster of an American sea captain. Not one little bit.

T
he sun edged down onto the horizon like a god’s golden pendant lowering into the shimmering sea. Sara leaned on the rail and stared at its rippled image in the water, wishing she could just walk along that fiery path until she reached England and the safety of home. She hated to admit it, but Jordan had been right. This trip had been ill-fated from the beginning.

And that wretched captain only made matters worse. Oh, how he must have laughed after she’d left his cabin, after she’d succumbed to his kisses! How he must have reveled over her weakness! Instead of arguing on the women’s behalf, she’d let him take all sorts of scandalous liberties with her. He’d distracted her quite effectively, no doubt for his own nefarious purposes.

It certainly wasn’t because of any real attraction. He’d made that quite clear, both in his cabin and later, when he’d publicly spurned her before all his men, acting as if she were some…some piece of pirate booty to be doled out as he saw fit! Her cheeks grew hot just remembering it. He’d made her melt, then offered to hand
her off to the first man who asked. The wretch! The scoundrel! She hated him!

“Miss Willis,” said a voice behind her. She turned to find Louisa threading her way through the women who were seated everywhere on deck, eating their supper. With a plate of stewed beef and ship’s biscuits balanced in one hand and a cup of water flavored with whisky in the other, Louisa approached her.

“You really must eat,” Louisa said in the governess tone she was wont to use. She held out the plate. “You must keep up your strength.”

“For what?” Sara sighed, though she took the cup. “It does no good to fight them, you know. They’ll do what they want with us, regardless of what we say.”

“That’s not true.” Setting the plate on a nearby box, Louisa picked up a biscuit and closed the fingers of Sara’s free hand around it. “You’ve already convinced them to give us a choice. That’s more than we had before.”

“Some choice.” In a burst of defiance, she crumbled the biscuit into the sea. She had no appetite, not after her encounter with that dreadful pirate captain. When she spoke again, her tone was edged with pique. “We can marry an old pirate or a young one, a daring one or a dull one, but still we must marry pirates and live out our days on some remote island where we may never again see our families…” Her voice broke at the thought of being separated from Jordan for the rest of her life.

No matter what she’d said to Gideon, she knew Jordan would never find her. How could he? He’d search in all the wrong places, never dreaming that the pirates were on an island. A tear slipped from her eye, and she brushed it away. She never cried. She was too practical for that. But tonight she felt very unpractical…and very weepy.

With a little murmur of understanding, Louisa
squeezed her arm. “There, there, now. Don’t fret yourself over it. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

A new, gruffer voice sounded beside Louisa. “If the lady ain’t gonna eat her dinner, then she should give it to one o’ the others and not waste it by throwin’ it in the sea.”

Sara and Louisa turned to find the peg-legged cook scowling at them. In one hand he held a pitcher of water and in the other the knobbed and worn stick he used as a cane. But the mottled brown and gray beard covering half his face gave him a fierce appearance that negated any hint of weakness one might take from the presence of a cane.

Another pirate to plague them. Sara was sorely weary of them, and she was certainly not in the mood to fight anymore tonight.

Apparently Louisa’s mood was quite different, however, for she drew herself up and waggled her finger at him. “How dare you give the poor woman trouble over those nasty biscuits! If you made biscuits worth eating, sir, perhaps she wouldn’t throw them to the fish!”

He blinked his eyes in astonishment. “Biscuits worth eating?” His voice rose. “Biscuits worth eating? I’ll have you know, madam, that I bake the best biscuit on the high seas!”

“That’s not saying much, considering that ship’s biscuits are notoriously awful.”

“It’s all right, Louisa, you needn’t defend me—” Sara began.

Louisa just ignored her. “Those biscuits were so hard, I could scarcely choke them down. As for that stew—”

“Look here, you disrespectful harpy,” the cook said, punctuating his words with loud taps of his cane, “there ain’t nothin’ wrong with Silas Drummond’s stew, and I defy any man—or woman—to make a better one!”

“As you wish. I suppose it
would
be better if I took over the cooking.” Louisa lifted the hem of the flimsy apron assigned to the women as part of their convict
costume. “Of course, I’ll need a better apron and a decent cap, but I’m sure we can drum one up somewhere…oh, and if you’d be so good as to show me where the stores are kept—”

“I will not!” Silas’s expression was an amusing mix of fury and astonishment.

To Sara’s surprise, Louisa paid no attention to his anger. “Then how can I prepare tomorrow’s dinner?”

“You ain’t preparin’ tomorrow’s dinner!” he roared. “My kitchen ain’t for the likes of an uppish female who probably don’t even know how to leech the salt out o’ beef!”

Sara rested her elbow on the rail, watching the interchange in silent amusement now that she was sure Louisa could take care of herself.

“How hard can it be to cook a decent meal? I’ve seen some of the best cooks in the world prepare dinner.” In an aside to Sara, she added, “I was employed by the Duke of Dorchester for a time, you know. He had
two
French chefs in his employ. I should think I learned a thing or two from them.”

“French chefs? English dukes?” Silas sputtered. “You ain’t gettin’ within a yardarm’s length of my kitchen, you…you…”

“My name is Louisa Yarrow, but you may call me Miss Yarrow,” Louisa said primly.

He looked so surprised by this condescending statement that Sara had to disguise her urge to laugh with a fit of coughing.

“It don’t matter what I call you or what you call yerself,” he growled, as he stepped near enough to Louisa to glower down at her. A sudden trough made the ship lurch forward, but while Sara and Louisa had to grab for the rail to keep their balance, he somehow managed to stay perfectly upright as if his feet had been welded to the deck. “You ain’t gettin’ near my kitchen, woman. I got enough to worry about, havin’ to feed all these women. I don’t need a troublemaker underfoot.”

“Perhaps Louisa could help you just a little,” Sara interjected. She had to admit that the stew didn’t look or smell very palatable, and a quick glance around the deck showed that the women weren’t eating their meals with any great enthusiasm, despite their hunger.

“That’s a capital idea,” said a new voice. Sara turned to find the English first mate standing at her elbow, smoking a cheroot. “Why not let the women help with the meals? God knows we could use a decent one for a change.”

Silas scowled at the first mate. “You’re takin’ the side o’ that woman? Well, I had enough o’ your complaints. And hers.” He turned and stomped away. “See if either o’ you gets any more o’ what I cook. I’ll let this harpy serve you a thinnish French broth and see how you like it. You’ll be beggin’ for more of me cookin’ in a week. Damned English fools. I swear…”

He continued to mutter under his breath as he picked his way between the women seated on the deck. But when Louisa started to go after him, Barnaby stayed her with one hand.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s an old curmudgeon who hates women. I’ve heard tell it’s because he can’t satisfy one in bed, if you know what I mean. Some sort of old war injury.” Barnaby cast Louisa an ingratiating smile that showed fine white teeth. “If it’s a husband you’re looking for, you’d be better off with me. All my parts are in fine working order.”

A chilly smile touched Louisa’s lips as she snatched her arm away. “Are they, indeed? Then I suggest you find a wife who’d be happy to oil and pamper them and keep them in good working order. I’m afraid I’d be more likely to smash them to bits.” With that, she lifted her skirts and hurried after Silas, leaving Barnaby to gape after her as he instinctively jerked his legs together.

“She’s a cold fish, isn’t she?” he commented as he turned back to Sara.

“Not exactly. She just doesn’t like men very much.”

“Ah,” Barnaby said as if he understood.

But his frown showed that he didn’t. How could he? He’d never been at the mercy of a man, never had his life utterly destroyed by the opposite sex. No man who hadn’t also been tormented simply because of his sex could understand Louisa’s hatred.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Do you hate men, too?”

Unfortunately, no
, she thought, remembering the mortifying way she’d responded to Gideon’s kiss. “Only those men who try to take away my freedom.”

The sun had finally set, and the gray dusk heightened the dark intensity of Barnaby’s black eyes as he scrutinized her. “You mean men like our captain?”

The trace of irony in his tone made her color. Everyone had just assumed she would swoon at their illustrious captain’s feet. And if they knew even half the truth—that she’d practically done so—they would laugh at her. Dropping her gaze, she skimmed her fingers over the smooth sheen of the brass rail in front of her. “Yes, him. Certainly. He had no right to take us against our will.”

Barnaby leaned back as he drew languidly on his cheroot. “Look around you, Miss Willis. Does it appear to you as if your convict women object to being freed from that ship?”

Turning around, she scanned the crowd of women. Someone had already lit the lanterns, illuminating little patches of women and men who were laughing and talking. The women were assessing the men, some covertly, others with more boldness. Under the protective overhang of some rigging, a youthful pirate slid his arm around a sweet-faced convict, who not only allowed it, but gazed up at him with a shy smile. Even the older woman who’d spoken up this afternoon about her limited chances of finding a husband was being courted by a hoary-headed sailor, one of the few older men on Captain Horn’s ship.

Everywhere men hovered over the women like bees around a honey hive. Though they didn’t seem to be overly aggressive or rude, there was a definite arrogance in the way they pursued the women, as if sure of being accepted. And many of the women weren’t exactly discouraging them.

She sighed. “I suppose the women aren’t entirely angry over the situation.”

“Aren’t entirely angry?” He chuckled. “I’d say they’re quite content.”

Suddenly there was a loud crack from across the deck and a shrill, high-pitched voice said, “Don’t touch me, you filthy pirate! I don’t have to suffer your grabbing hands just yet!”

Sara and Barnaby turned to see a man holding his reddened cheek as a comely young woman flounced off in a huff.

“Not all of them are content, sir.” The wind blew a lock of hair into Sara’s eyes, and she thrust it aside. “Some of them are merely resigned to their fate. They know they have no choice. Since they’re used to accepting whatever hand life had dealt them, they’ll make the best of it. But I’d truly hoped life would deal them a better one.”

With that she walked away, unable to bear any more such discussions. Barnaby was no different from his master. He couldn’t see the grim realities of the situation. No matter what she said, both men would continue to think that they had bestowed a great favor on the women by taking them captive.

Feeling even more morose than before, she rounded the end of the forward house headed for the fore hatch, only to be accosted by a sailor who stepped out of the shadows. Her instant spurt of fear turned to relief when she saw it was Petey.

“Come, miss, we got to talk,” he muttered, pulling her toward the fore hatch.

“We certainly do.” She followed him below decks,
casting a wary glance about her to make sure no one saw them. She waited until they’d climbed down into the ’tween decks to ask the question that had bothered her ever since she’d seen him coming out of the captain’s cabin. “I suppose you sneaked aboard when they brought us on, but why haven’t they killed you?”

“Cap’n decided he had a use for me.” He lit the lantern in the ’tween decks, and as he turned back to her, the dull gold light reflected the grim look on his face. “They’ve made me one of the crew, but that don’t mean I can do what I want. There’s plenty of eyes watchin’ me all the time. So we gotta make this fast.”

“I guess you heard what Captain Horn said. That we must choose husbands.”

He nodded, his hazel eyes darkening. “I heard. And I got a plan for that. When the time comes for you and the women to choose, you’d best choose me.”

The idea took her by surprise. Marry Petey? Though she knew his suggestion was designed to protect her, she wasn’t sure she liked it. A lifetime on a remote island would be bad enough, but a lifetime with a man she barely knew…

Of course, she didn’t know any of these men, did she? But one of them might want her for herself instead of marrying her out of some sense of duty. “I don’t know, Petey—”

“Hear me out. If you marry me, we won’t have to be truly married, if you know what I mean.” His reddening ears told her exactly what he meant. “That’ll make things easier for you once we return to England. His lordship won’t have no trouble gettin’ the marriage annulled after we’re back as long as we don’t…er…you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Her eyes narrowed. “But surely you don’t think we’ll ever be able to—” Two of the pirates passed so close that she could hear them laughing overhead. She froze until they moved away from the open hatch, then leaned her head closer to Petey’s. “Surely
you don’t think we’ll get the chance to escape.”

“We might. I know a bit about navigation and such. If this island lies close to any other islands, I can row us to one that’s inhabited.”

With a sigh, she twisted the chain of her locket around her finger. “Forgive me, Petey, but that doesn’t sound very promising.”

“I suppose not. But remember, the cap’n also said something about returning to the Cape Verde Islands for supplies. ’Tis possible we could stow away on that trip and take passage to England from there. Don’t you worry, I’ll think of some way to get us out of here and back home.” His voice grew firm. “In the meantime, you’d best stay clear of the Pirate Lord.”