Silence.
“If you tell me where I can find the man who sent you, I shall let you walk out of here with all the money to keep for yourself. For your family.”
Nothing. Not so much as a grunt of acknowledgement. He held back a sigh. And here he’d been hoping this wouldn’t have to unfold the hard way.
That was when he caught it. A slight shift, a tensing...a dead giveaway.
The chap was going to bolt. And he’d be taking the name of Marcus’s prey with him.
He moved just as the boy did. But Marcus was faster. The boy barely even put up a fight as Marcus landed on top of him and brought him down to the ground. An oof escaped the lad as Marcus had no doubt knocked the wind out of his lungs when he’d landed on top. He went to roll off and start in on the questions, but another sound escaped the boy.
It sounded like a squeak.
Ridiculously small and frightfully weak fists struck him. This boy wasn’t going down without a fight. Marcus knocked the blows aside easily, barely holding back a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
He might have even laughed if he hadn’t feared it would hurt the boy’s pride.
It would have been outright funny if he wasn’t already so dreadfully frustrated by his failed attempts to capture the pirate at the center of this new gang. Even though he and his men had intercepted this latest shipment of stolen goods, they’d failed to get to the heart of the mystery. The men had fled the scene before they could be captured and forced to talk.
Marcus just barely held back a sigh as he waved aside another blow.
He was definitely getting too old for this lifestyle.
One last arrest and then he was done. That was what he’d told his brother when last they’d met. He’d put Alistair and his family in harm’s way long enough. It would be foolish as well as selfish to continue when he was losing the edge that had kept him alive this long.
And then there was the other secret. The one of his birth.
No, he’d had too many close calls this past year since his injury. Too many times he’d nearly been captured. If he were to be seriously injured.
If he were to die...
Well, the wrong person discovering him would put an end not just to his legacy, it would destroy his family. True, such had been the case all along. But back when he was a young man, the risk had been worth it. Alistair had agreed. The day Marcus had plotted to stage his death, to give up his right to the title, to hand it over to Alistair, the bastard son.
They’d both known what they were doing. The danger, the stakes, the consequences if anyone found out that Marcus was alive, or worse, that Alistair had been illegitimate.
But that was before Alistair had married, before he’d had children. Before his sister Lizzie’s first husband had passed away and she’d finally found a happy marriage and a family of her own.
No, these days everything was different. Including him.
The boy’s hood covered his ducked head as he struggled upright, never ceasing with the jabs and the punches. They were weak but effective. At least the child had been taught where to strike.
In time, he might actually make a good smuggler. With a little more height and far more muscle, the child might even make a formidable foe.
Marcus hoped instead that after this encounter, the boy’s life of crime would be over. One run-in with a true enemy would hopefully scare him away from such a seedy, dangerous path. He swatted the fists away again and leaned down, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck. “This will go a lot easier if you just tell me who sent you.”
Then finally the boy lifted his head, eyes full of fire, and Marcus gasped in shock. The boy was no boy at all. He was a she.
A grown she. And a pretty she, at that.
And then the pretty woman in question punched him in the nose.
He groaned and bent at the waist as he clapped a hand over his nose. Not broken, so at least he had that.
What he didn’t have was pride.
How on earth had a woman gotten the best of him? She’d had the element of surprise, he supposed. She took advantage of his stunned stupor to slug him again, but this time he moved quickly enough to catch her fist.
Her expression was strained as she pushed her fist against his hand. For the second time in a matter of minutes he felt the urge to laugh at the absurdity of his situation, but his pride was wounded and his nose was smarting, so he growled instead. “Who are you working for?”
She snarled. “Who are you waiting for?”
Understanding dawned in a heartbeat.
He dropped his hand and her fist connected with his chest, thanks to the momentum with which she’d been pushing against him. He barely felt the blow as he was too busy staring at this wild-eyed little fury.
“You were not sent by the smuggler,” he said, more to himself than to her.
But she still responded, her tone filled with self-righteous outrage. “Of course not.”
“So why are you here?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were narrowed as she backed away, partially crouched like she was ready to spring for him again.
“Be at ease, miss,” he said wearily as he realized just how badly he’d blundered tonight. “I almost never attack ladies.”
He’d meant it in jest. Of course he never attacked ladies. This lady, however, was clearly not in a mood to laugh.
She raised her fists as she backed toward the edge of the cave again, no doubt getting ready to flee. “Well, sir, you will excuse me if I do not trust the word of a pirate.”
He let out a huff of amusement. Yes. Pirate. Of course, that was what he was. Even now, more than a decade after feigning his death and recreating a new life for himself at sea, there were still moments when he forgot who he was.
What a young lady like this would see when she saw him. Disheveled hair, a scruffy beard, and the weathered visage of a man who’d spent too much time in the sunshine and sea air.
He was staring, he realized. But then, so was she. For countless seconds they stood there in a sort of standoff in the flickering light of the fire. He couldn’t quite bring himself to stop it because the sight of her was...
Well, she was a sight for sore eyes. Trite but true. Her hair was braided like a crown, but wisps escaped and framed her face. He had a sudden and striking image of what she’d look like at the bow of his ship, those curls waving wildly as a smile spread across those dainty, feminine, utterly perfect features.
Not perfect. His gaze narrowed on her face. No, not perfect at all. Her eyes were a bit too wide apart, her lips too full, her dark brown eyes narrowed at the edges. But those eyes sparkled with feeling. Fury, mostly, but the extent of that anger...
The passion there...
It stole the breath from his lungs.
All combined, he found that she did look rather...perfect.
Perfect for him, at least.
He tilted his head to the side as a memory nagged at him. It was something about the shape of those eyes, the sharp curve of her jaw. She did not just look lovely, she looked...familiar. He was certain he’d never met this lady before—of course he hadn’t—but she reminded him of something. Of someone...
He could not quite put his finger on what memory she stirred.
She stopped backing away long enough to purse her lips and glare. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He arched a brow. “What brings a young lady such as yourself to my cave at this hour of night?”
“It is not your cave,” she shot back. “It is my cave.”
“And you mean to protect it, I suppose.” He couldn’t seem to help himself from needling her further. She was rather adorable, this feisty little warrior, and she was outright breathtaking when her eyes sparked with fury.
Her brows drew down as she no doubt picked up on his teasing tone. “That’s right.”
Another move toward the edge and now she was out of the glow that had lit her face, her features cast in shadows and
moonlight.
She was ready to sound some alarm, he imagined. To scream at the top of her lungs.
He winced. Unfortunately, that would not do. He had a limited opportunity to catch the men behind this smuggling operation so he could be on his way, off this dangerous soil, and after the new pirate leader. His last mission.
This young lady would only get in his way.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said. “My father and his men don’t take kindly to pirates on their shores.” Her frown turned to a scowl of disapproval. “What kind of pirate makes camp right next to a stone frigate anyway? It makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” he agreed mildly. He’d thought it rather odd as well when he’d first received the message.
It also made it that much more dangerous. If whomever was behind this had no fear of getting caught, then it spoke to an inside job.
A traitor. Which gave credence to the rumors that the smuggling operation was being run by someone at this very encampment.
Marcus felt a sneer curving his lips. He despised traitors.
The lady across from him took another step back. “Don’t you dare try to stop me. One shout and my father will come running.”
It was a bluff, but he let her have it. Her courage had his sneer fading. He might despise traitors, but he certainly did admire courage.
Seeing such spirit was heartening, and only as he felt his chest swell did he realize just how low his spirits had fallen this past year.
“What is your name?” he asked. Silly, really, as it did not matter. He’d find this traitor soon enough and then he would be away. Off to start some new adventure.
And yet, it suddenly seemed quite urgent that he know. So he could have a name for this odd little creature when he called up this memory.
“As if I would tell you.” She stopped and bent at the waist to reach for her lantern.
Ah. There. Like a balm on some wound he hadn’t even known he suffered, he got another glimpse of that beautiful face. Of that fierce courage. Of—
A sound outside the cave cut into his mawkish musings. Something scraping. The lady turned to it as well, raising her lantern high, a sound escaping her parted lips before he could stop her.
He lunged toward her and clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
Frustration had him muttering curses as he heard the sound change from scuffling to scrambling, to rocks and sand sliding as someone ran away.
Someone that could only be the true smuggler.
Another string of curses had the woman in his arms stiffening against him. But only for a heartbeat. Then she was fighting like a hellcat in his arms, her teeth baring behind his palm. He only just ripped his hand away as she went to bite him.
“You won’t get away with this,” she hissed as she squirmed in his arms.
“You scared away my contact,” he growled.
“Good!” She kicked back with her foot and it connected with his shin. He grunted at the contact, but he had a feeling it hurt her more than him because she made a whimpering sound that alarmed him and had him releasing her before he could think twice.
She rounded on him, arms and legs flailing in her quest to bring him down.
Him. A man twice her size.
He didn’t take long to marvel at her insanity...or her courage. “Now look here, young lady—”
“You scoundrel,” she shouted. “You knave!”
She was screeching like a banshee, and he was forced to rethink the validity of her earlier threat. He’d thought they were too far from the fort for her shouts to be heard, but he’d clearly underestimated the volume that could come from such a small creature.
If she got away, if someone came...oh, curse it. He had to tell her the truth before she ruined everything. They were on the same side, after all. She just didn’t know it.
“If you’ll just listen...” he started. He felt like a fool for sounding so reasonable in the face of her frantic shouts. “Miss, if you’d please just let me explain...”
Oh, blast it all. That was no better. He sounded like a fretting nursemaid.
And then they both heard it. Answering shouts. Voices heading in their direction.
His little prisoner’s face lit with joy and he...
Well, he lost his ability to breathe again.
But only for a moment.
For then she turned away to call back to her rescuers and he had the most absurd notion that he’d been the one set free.
There was no time to explain now, clearly. No way he could make them all see reason. No proof at hand.
He took one last look at his little fury who had so completely ruined his plans. A smile tugged on his lips because he couldn’t quite bring himself to be angry about it. Not when he’d met such a delightful little warrior.
He gave her a last salute that she could not see...and then he was off.
Chapter 4
Roger—lovely, handsome, reliable Roger. He was in sight, scrambling down the hillside with two other officers in tow when she turned around with a smile of triumph.
“You’ve been caught now, Pirate—” Her words stopped abruptly.
Where was he?
She looked around with her lips still parted, the words caught in her throat.
Gone. He was gone.
She headed out of the cave’s mouth, scrambling along the shore a few paces to try and catch sight of him, her heart racing every step of the way.
Truth be told, it hadn’t stopped racing since that first moment she’d spotted the pirate’s silhouette in the cave. Her whole body tingled, her chest too full of emotions to name them.
Excitement, a voice whispered.
It was definitely excitement that had her feeling light as a cloud. But the moment she acknowledged it, guilt brought her crashing down to the ground.
“Minerva?” Roger’s voice was right behind her, so familiar, so safe, so...not like that pirate’s growl.
She spun around to face him. His handsome features were drawn tight with concern as he gripped her shoulders and took her in from head to toe. “Are you all right, Min? What happened?”
“Pirate,” she breathed. Now that the excitement was fading, she found herself oddly deflated. Exhausted, no doubt, from the close call she’d endured. From the fighting.
At the thought, she became aware of the throbbing in her hands, in the foot she’d used to kick him.
She winced and Roger caught it.
“Go,” he shouted to the other officers. “Find the man who accosted my lady.”
His lady. Well then. He had not formally asked for her father’s permission to court her, but it seemed he still had every intention. Rebecca would no doubt swoon when Minerva told her. She tried for a smile but found herself sighing instead, letting Roger take her weight as he pulled her into his arms. “Too late,” she said softly.
“What?”
She gave her head a shake. “I think you’re too late. He’s already fled.” She forced herself to straighten. There would be time to rest later. For now, they had a pirate to catch. Drawing herself to her full height, she met Roger’s concerned gaze and they both heard the officers shouting behind her as they took in the loot he’d left behind. “I’m afraid I let him get away.”
“Let him...” Roger laughed in surprise. “My dear Minerva, I am just glad you were not harmed.” He pulled back with a frown. “You are not, are you? He didn’t...” His scowl grew fierce. “He did not touch you, did he?”
“No,” she said quickly. As she said it she had a vivid memory of his arms around her, the hand that had clamped over her mouth. “No,” she said again. “He did not touch me.”
Not in the sense that he meant, and not with any violence.
She frowned as she recalled his amusement as he’d swatted her fists aside. Her pride had taken more of a blow than she had.
“We should hurry,” she said, pulling back from his arms to face him directly. “He’ll be getting away
.”
Roger shook his head. “You have done enough, Minerva.” His furrowed brow reminded her of her father. “What were you doing down here at this time of night?”
She opened her mouth and shut it as she thought of how best to explain.
Roger wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Poor girl, you’re shivering.”
Was she? She hadn’t noticed the cold that was seeping through her cloak until Roger’s arm about her brought new warmth.
“You should consider yourself lucky that Eddleston saw your lantern down here while he was keeping watch tonight.”
Eddleston. Minerva recalled a young officer, likely no older than Hattie. One of the newer recruits who’d arrived recently to join her father and his men.
“Yes, thank heavens,” she muttered, even as she twisted her head, craning her neck. “Surely he could not have gotten far.”
“Leave the scoundrel to me and my men,” Roger said. “We’ll find him. He couldn’t be the most savvy pirate if he chose this shoreline of all places to make his camp.”
“Yes, but that is what’s so troubling,” she said, grudgingly falling into step beside him as he led her back along the shoreline to the trail leading to her family’s home. “He was here to meet someone, Roger.”
Roger made a grunting sound of acknowledgment, his focus on helping her navigate the rocks and outcroppings that made the bottom of the trail a hazard, particularly at night. At some point, he’d relieved her of her lantern and was holding it ahead of her as he guided her along just in front of him.
“Roger.” She stopped short when they reached the top of the cliffside trail. “Don’t you see? He was here to meet someone. A buyer. Do you see what that means?”
From the blank look he gave her, she was afraid he didn’t. But then his brows drew together, and he nodded. “It’s a dangerous business, Minerva. You really shouldn’t walk alone at night.”
She just barely held back a sigh. Couldn’t he see? “It’s not me I’m worried about, Roger. It’s this town. It’s the fort. What if we have a criminal in our midst?”
His expression warred between concern and exasperation.
She had the humiliating feeling that she was overreacting...but she was not. Billingham was a quiet little village, and this naval installment might have been small as well, but it was her home. This place was hers to protect. And if someone here was dealing with pirates, if someone here was to meet the pirate, to buy his stolen goods, as the pirate’s words alleged, then that meant smuggling was involved. It meant—
Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap Page 3
