She frowned as she moved closer, choosing her steps carefully so she did not make much noise.
Why? She wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was just foolishness, but a voice in the back of her mind urged caution. She tiptoed along the outskirts of the cave until she caught sight of a rowboat lodged in the sand on the other side of the cave’s entrance. But no one was in it.
No one was visible, at least.
But someone was making that ruckus in the cave.
She paused, half of her itching to dive right in there and find out who was there, and the other half urging caution. Reason told her it was likely a townsperson, or a fisherman, or perhaps even one of her father’s men on a routine patrol of the coast.
Her gut was telling another story entirely.
Her heart raced with excitement as though this was Christmas and her birthday all rolled into one.
But, no. That was ridiculous. She turned. Forced her brain to take charge over her silly, silly heart. Emotions never led anywhere good. Only reason could be trusted. And logic told her that there was likely no big mystery at play.
“Minerva!”
Her name echoed against the cliff walls. It was Sally’s booming voice and the reminder she needed that even if she wanted to explore further, her time was nearly up.
She’d be expected back at the house, back to her duties soon enough. She’d best hurry; she’d likely need to make a quick stop at the stables to scold Hattie about reading novels when she was supposed to be stretching her legs.
“Min?” Rebecca’s voice joined Sally’s. No doubt they were standing at the cliff’s edge waiting for her to appear on the path. She might not have told them she was heading to the caves, but her sisters knew her just as well as she knew them.
If she did not appear back at home soon they would start to worry.
Minerva was never late.
With one last longing look toward the cave’s mysterious sounds and the phantom person responsible for them, she turned and headed back to her sisters.
Back to her real life.
Chapter 2
When afternoon lessons were over, the chores done, and dinner had passed with the usual sisterly squabbles and laughter and chatter, Minerva found her mind wandering back to the cave.
To the mystery that was inside the cave, to be more precise.
Her father’s snores filled the air, his mustache quivering with each loud exhale as Hattie did her best to be heard over the sound as she read aloud.
Rebecca sat beside Minerva, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the bow she was attaching to make her simple blue gown more elegant before the upcoming ball for the soldiers.
Their father was well aware of how few distractions this small seaside town had to offer for his small battalion of men during their off hours, and he’d enlisted his daughters to help provide entertainment and keep up morale.
His daughters also helped provide medical attention, thanks to Abigail and Sally’s knack for nursing and medicine, respectively. Hattie, for her part, ran a lending library for the more scholarly officers...or those looking for a fictional escape.
But it was Rebecca who truly thrived when it came to entertaining. Music, dancing, storytelling, and gossip...these all fell well within her area of expertise. She lived for the dinner parties and the soirees with the higher-ranking officers, but it was the larger balls that were open to the public where she truly shined.
Minerva watched Rebecca work beside her now with just a little envy.
All of her sisters had something they were passionate about in their household, while Minerva’s sole priority was ensuring order and obedience. Making sure schedules were adhered to and that work goals were achieved. Still, while not exactly exciting, her sisters certainly kept her occupied. And she was surrounded by love and friendship. What more could a young lady ask for?
The thought had her smiling again as Hattie flipped the page to the next chapter, not that Minerva could remember a single thing she’d read in the last one.
Ought she to have told her father about the mysterious boater who’d wound up on their shores?
He likely would have laughed and told her she had an overactive imagination. Or worse, he’d get that worried crease between his brows and his bright blue eyes would grow unbearably sad as he told her she ought not be searching for an adventure.
Like her mother.
She bristled at the thought, shifting uncomfortably until Rebecca shot her a glare for having disrupted her delicate needlework.
“Sorry,” Minerva murmured as Hattie’s gentle voice cut through their father’s snores once more.
Before she’d really given it much thought, Minerva was moving. Rising from the settee, she made her way toward the front hall, stepping over Sally, who was strewn out on the floor next to Abigail, who was curled up on the armchair knitting something, likely a scarf or a pair of mittens for one of the children she taught. Her little army of waifs, as their father was wont to call them.
Minerva paused in the doorway, looking back upon her family who looked so peaceful and content.
She would just take a quick glance outside, that was all. Just to ensure that all was well.
She reached for her wrap, almost convincing herself it was the truth, even as she lit the lantern the family kept by the door.
It wasn’t until she’d carefully closed the front door behind her with a quiet click that she admitted it.
She was going back to the cave.
Not because she was seeking out an adventure, of course.
Of course not, her inner voice mocked.
No, she was merely going to take a quick look to ensure that nothing nefarious was going on right beneath their noses. And if it was...
Well, it likely wasn’t. Nothing exciting ever happened in Billingham.
And that was a good thing, of course.
Of course. She scowled at that mocking voice that seemed to taunt her. Giving her head a quick shake to rid herself of the taunting sarcastic little voice, she strode toward the cliff’s edge. It was hardly the first time she’d taken an evening stroll, and between the lantern and the moonlight it was easy enough to find her way, even if she was wearing slippers.
She shivered as the wind whipped around her more violently the closer she drew to the shore. When she reached the cliff’s edge... Nothing. There was nothing there but the dark sea and the starlit sky.
She exhaled loudly. There was nothing there. What had she expected?
She allowed herself another long moment to enjoy the siren song of the ocean waves and the enchanting melody of the night wind, which somehow sounded so much more mysterious when the sun was down.
Poppycock. She rolled her eyes at her own fantastical thoughts.
There she went again, letting her imagination run wild. At least it was just her imagination. She might have inherited an adventurous spirit from her mother, but fortunately, she’d also inherited her father’s good sense.
She lifted her skirts and padded toward the cliff’s edge, telling herself she would just take a quick glance over the edge. The quick glance turned into a few steps down the cliffside. Then a few more because...well, what harm would a closer look do?
None. There was likely no one down here, so why not just take a look to be certain?
Once on the beach, the wet sand quickly made her silk slippers damp and her feet cold, but she pressed on, treading carefully over the sharp shells and rocks.
“So silly,” she muttered to herself as she approached the edge of her favorite cave. “You’ll be laughing at yourself soon enough,” she said out loud.
She reached the cave’s edge and shook her head at her own silliness, a rueful laugh of self-deprecation already bubbling up in her chest as she braced a hand against the lip and leaned forward to peer around the edge.
The laughter died in an instant as her eyes adjusted to the flicker of firelight within the cave.
A fire. In her cave. Her breathing grew ragge
d, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. Fear. Curiosity.
Excitement.
Minerva swallowed down the thought and forced her reasonable mind into action. She ought to go rouse her father. She told herself that as she took a step farther into the cave, her eyes adjusting to the change of lighting.
And the change in the cave.
Aside from a small fire, there were crates upon crates stacked up high. And a trunk sat beside the crates with other odd-shaped goods covered in cloth. One of the items wasn’t covered properly and something shiny and gold glinted in the firelight.
Treasure.
The word hit her like a blow to the chest.
No, surely not. This could not be real.
This could not be happening.
But when she blinked and held up the lantern for a better view, the goods were still there. But if this was treasure, then that meant...
Pirates.
No sooner had the word rang in her skull like a bell sounding an alarm that a figure stepped out from the shadows in the back of the cave. “So,” a low voice drawled. “You’ve decided to come after all.”
Fear slammed into Minerva so quickly, she nearly dropped her lantern. As it were, she kept her grip on the brass handle, but it fell to her side as her heart thumped wildly in her chest.
To scream? To run? Thoughts on what she ought to do chased through her mind, but in the end she stood there frozen as the dark silhouette of a man took shape out of the shadows.
“You took your sweet time about it,” the man muttered.
She kept her mouth shut.
He thought he knew who she was. He thought she was here...on purpose.
That helped to steady her as she moved the lantern to the side, so it was partially hidden behind the cave’s edge thus thrusting her into the shadows.
He moved closer.
She should call for help. But who would hear? Between the wind and the distance, there was no way her father and sisters would hear her shouts, and the men in town were much too far away. Even the fort which bordered the sea’s edge was likely too far for anyone to hear unless she was very, very lucky.
The stranger took another step forward.
If she could not shout for help, she could run.
Except, another step and he would be close enough for her to see his face in the firelight. And that information might prove useful.
If she waited, he might unwittingly give something away. He might reveal who he was actually waiting for.
If he was here, in her cave, on her shores, then the person he meant to meet must have been someone from nearby. Perhaps someone from her very own town.
There.
Finally, she saw his face.
Handsome.
Rugged.
She shook off those descriptors. Dark and dangerous, more like.
But dark and dangerous as he might be, there was no denying the sharp cut of his scruffy jaw, or his broad, even features as he glowered at her through the darkness.
“Well?” he said, a little louder this time. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
Chapter 3
The hooded figure lingered too long at the edge of the cave.
The coward’s reticence put Marcus on edge. Steady now, he wished to say to the greedy fool who’d asked to meet him here.
Only cowards worked with pirates, Marcus well knew. Greedy, cunning cowards. For if they had any true character at all, they wouldn’t have to resort to helping thieves at sea for their own gain.
But smugglers were as common as rats in England, and he wasn’t about to waste his time pursuing each and every greedy fool he came across. But this one...
He took a step closer.
This one had information that he needed. This one was his link to the ring of pirates who were banding together. Causing problems for the American ships and starting to garner the attention of the British Admiralty. These newcomers hadn’t gotten involved in the slave trade...yet. Not so far as he knew, at least.
And they never would, if he could put a stop to it.
Pirates working alone were bad enough, but when they banded together...? Well, everyone knew there was power in numbers. The Barbary corsairs were finally starting to lose some of their power at sea and no one wanted to see a new force rise up and take its place.
And besides, this new crew of thieves at sea...this felt personal. Rumor had it their leader was British.
Marcus might have eschewed his title years ago, and these days he tried not to step foot on British soil unless it was absolutely necessary to ensure his family’s safety, but he was still a British gentleman to his core.
One last mission. That was the phrase that had led him to this shoreline, to this cave. It was the litany that kept him focused. It kept his mind on the present rather than the looming future.
He took another step. Almost there.
If only this fellow weren’t so wary.
If only he could see the man’s face.
He’d been sure there was a mistake when he’d intercepted the last message from a pirate crew he’d been trailing for months now.
What sort of fool would set a meeting place so close to a naval encampment that was guarding the shoreline?
He narrowed his eyes as the cloaked figure edged backward.
Was the cad losing his nerve?
Of course he was.
But it was no matter. The smuggler was close enough now that Marcus could tackle him if he tried to flee.
Still, he’d prefer sussing out information first. Informants were always far more talkative before they realized he was their foe instead of their friend. It was only logical they would talk more before they knew they were, in fact, acting as informants. Best not to tip his hat too soon.
Marcus dropped his hands to his sides and relaxed his posture. He gave the fellow a smile, hoping to put him at ease. All the while, he took in every detail he could.
He’d heard rumors that it was a naval officer he was after, but this... He eyed the short, slight figure that hovered near the edge of the cave.
Perhaps it was a young boy, then?
His brows drew together in concern. He’d been prepared to face a worthy opponent on this, his last mission for the crown.
But a young boy?
Curse it. He hated feeling sympathy for his enemies. Perhaps if the young upstart was working for someone else? There was no way a young boy could be the only one behind the smuggling side of this operation, which meant the real villain was hiding behind this young man. He eyed the figure.
No, definitely a boy.
He’d been right the first time.
“Are you alone then?” he asked, keeping his voice light, dropping the growl that served him well when he was dealing with brutes and rogues.
The hood moved. A nod.
Ah, so he would have to play this well, then. There was no sense taking down the pawn when what he was after was the king. If he played his cards right, the boy would lead him right to the smuggler in charge, and that smuggler... Well, that smuggler must know how and where to contact the pirates who’d been wreaking havoc at sea, stealing cargo and even plundering ancient treasures bound for British soil.
He just barely held back a sigh as he rocked back on his heels.
He would not pounce. He would take it slow, demonstrate patience.
But good heavens, he was running out of the latter. His brother had been right, his sister-in-law too. It was high time he left this life of adventure and intrigue behind.
It was a young man’s game, and while he was hardly senile, his latest injury had been a reminder that he wasn’t invincible either.
More than all that, at some point in the last few years, he’d lost the thrill of the hunt.
Even now, he could only summon up pity for the lad who’d been drawn into this mess. The excitement that used to make his heart pound and his blood rush only left him weary now. He took a small step back, and then another, watch
ing as the figure slouched slightly as he did.
Yes, yes. Be at ease, child. You are not the prey I’m after. He let his smile widen as he adopted his most congenial air. You are not my prey. Just the means to an end.
He eyed the figure with remorse. It was too bad he’d have to drag a child into this, but it was his master’s fault, in the end. The blasted criminal ought to have done his own dirty deeds.
“Now then,” he said to the boy. “I suppose you’ve been sent with my coins, eh?”
He tried for casual. Harmless. There was often a misconception among those who dwelled in the shadows that the best way to get ahead was to be the meanest, the nastiest, the toughest. Pirates, in general, seemed to think this was a requirement for doing business, and privateers were no different than pirates, for the most part. The only difference lie in legalities.
He who held a letter of marque was exempt from the gallows, and those without were not so fortunate. A slip of paper meant the difference between right and wrong.
According to the courts, anyway. For Marcus, right and wrong had never been about the law, but rather justice. Humanity. He valued his own sense of right and fair over any law.
But these days, he and the law found themselves in agreement.
How fortunate for the law. He could practically hear his brother Alistair, the Earl of Colefax, and his dry humor.
The thought of his brother’s amusement had his own lips curving up, making his smile genuine as he faced off with this poor youth.
While Marcus was undoubtedly capable of physical violence and brutality when it was necessary, his upbringing as the heir to an earldom had taught him well that often the easiest and most efficient way to obtain power was through a smile. A wink. A kind word and an easy laugh.
All of which he employed now.
Well, not the wink. But he did laugh softly, throwing his hands out wide to put the child at ease as he shifted again. Still close enough that he could lunge if need be, but not so close as to be threatening. “Do you have the coin?” he asked.
Another hesitation. Then another nod.
“I’ll make a deal with you; how would you like that?”
Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap Page 2
