The Care & Feeding of Pirates

by Jennifer Ashley

  "Manda knows you. She has learned when to listen to you and when to ignore you."

  "True."

  Honoria snuggled closer, her fingers moving along the length of his cock, and Christopher lost the thread of what she was saying. He only heard her voice, the low Southern tones that always drove him insane.

  "I imagine I'll learn when to listen," she said, "and when to tell you to go to the devil."

  "Glad to hear it," he answered, jaw tight. She squeezed so tightly that the sensation was almost like being inside her. Almost. "You keep doing that, you can stay with me as long as you want."

  Her light green eyes held flecks of emerald. "I don't want to go home with James."

  "He thinks differently."

  Honoria clenched her hand in emphasis, and Christopher let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

  "I don't care one whit what James thinks," Honoria said. "I am legally married to you, and he can't drag me around any more."

  If she wanted to cling to her marriage to stay away from her obnoxious older brother, fine with Christopher. As long as she kept . . . holding . . . on.

  The sun was sinking rapidly. If he and Honoria didn't leave the pool and get dressed soon, they'd have to scramble over rocks in near darkness.

  Christopher found it difficult to care. He only cared that his wife was a lovely armful, and that she'd just declared she'd stay with him through thick and thin.

  She was an obstinate, proud woman who made his heart dance with delight. He breathed her fragrance--spring water, honey, and some delectable spice. He could never get enough of her.

  She not only made his heart dance--his cock danced too, oh sweet, sweet Honoria.

  Dragging in a breath, Christopher firmly removed her fingers from his shaft. He experienced a flash of disappointed loss, but the water made Honoria's body light, so easy to lift and fit over him.

  That was it, they fit well. Their bodies knew they'd been made for each other. Their arguments got in the way sometimes, but their bodies knew. Christopher and Honoria had never been able to keep their hands off each other whenever they met--nature had tried to tell them that they were meant to be together.

  She was so lovely, so slippery, and so warm. Christopher drove into her once, twice, before he spilled his seed. She shouted with him, her eyes hot with her own climax, and their mouths met in a fierce kiss.

  "I love you," he said, voice raw. "I don't give a damn whether you believe me."

  "I believe you," she whispered. "I so very much believe you."

  *** *** ***

  Christopher kept her on shore with him that night, wanting her next to him. He'd slept with her every night for two weeks, a fine habit he never wanted to break. They wrapped themselves in blankets before the fire, she spooning back against him for warmth.

  The fires were small, dry wood scarce, and the air chilled as the sky darkened. The flames popped and snapped, but Christopher found their glare soothing, and his eyes closed.

  The fire and Honoria were the only soothing things about that beach. Even as he lay still with his wife, Christopher sensed the tension from the crews, both his men and Ardmore's.

  Gold lay nearby, and no matter how much Christopher feigned nonchalance, his crew wanted it and resented Ardmore taking it from them. If Christopher's men did what they were told, everything would go well. But he knew good and well that, at any moment, someone on either side could say to hell with the plan and start fighting for the money.

  That was the trouble with gold. It brought out the worst in people. Integrity and loyalty went to hell as soon as there was money to be made.

  They needed to find the cache--or not find it--soon. Christopher did not want to lose half his crew to violence over a stash that no longer existed.

  The only reason he allowed himself to drift to sleep was because Manda was awake and watching. He'd missed the comfort of knowing he had Manda behind him, and he very much liked having that comfort again.

  He closed his eyes, kissed Honoria's fragrant hair, and sought slumber.

  *** *** ***

  Manda leaned against the longboat and crossed her booted ankles. She let her gaze drift from the sleeping form of her brother to the bespectacled face of Alden Henderson, who stood not far away near Ardmore's gig.

  Her blood boiled. She wished the damned man had stayed aboard the Argonaut, because seeing him again had made Manda realize how much she'd wanted to see him again.

  She told herself not to be stupid. Henderson had sailed across to the island today only to help his captain, not for her. She knew that. So why did it hurt so much when he barely acknowledged her, as though they hadn't shared hot kisses in her cabin, or below in the hold? Why had it hurt so much when he'd calmly climbed into the gig when leaving the Starcross, without so much as a good-bye?

  She shouldn't feel like this. She'd endured Switton treating her like a caged animal without breaking down, but one dandified Englishman's rejection sent her into a world of heartache Manda had never experienced.

  Of course, when she'd lain in a stupor in Switton's locked room or been taken to the garden in the cage, she'd always believed in the back of her mind that Christopher would rescue her. Even though the reasonable part of her told her that Christopher was dead and gone, she couldn't help clinging to the idea that he'd come for her.

  And then, unbelievably, when the drapes had come down from before her cage in the folly, she'd looked through the bars to see Christopher looking back at her. Manda had nearly choked in astonishment.

  She had no idea how he'd done it, but Christopher had defeated even death to come for her. Her brother could do anything. She'd always known so.

  In the realm of love, however, Manda knew that Christopher could not help her. She had to face it alone, and the thought terrified her.

  She glanced over at Christopher, who was snuggled into Honoria, one hand on her hip, and couldn't help a smile. Christopher had the fond thought that he had the upper hand in his marriage, but Manda knew he bloody well hadn't. The little wench had wrapped him around her pretty fingers, and Christopher was happily letting her.

  Manda returned her gaze to the shadowy form of Henderson--and found him gone. Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the beach but found no sign of him.

  The ocean sighed across the sand, the foam luminescent. Moonlight silhouetted the bare masts of both ships standing well off shore. Too far for cannonballs to reach the island, Christopher had insisted.

  Sleeping forms mounded by the fire, dark blankets on the sand. A few men wandered restlessly outside the firelight, eyeing one another, tension rife. Manda looked everywhere for a pale smudge of blond hair and the gleam of spectacles, but didn't see them.

  A sudden noise came behind her, the sound of a scuffle. Manda whirled, drawing her knife.

  Beyond the jutting end of the longboat, two men struggled in the shallow water. One was small and wiry, the other tall and strong. The tall man had shed his coat, his linen shirtsleeves pale in the darkness. Light glinted off his knife and his gold spectacles.

  Henderson was fighting hard and silently, fending off the other man's knife blows with his own. Manda stood, frozen, watching for what seemed an eternity, before she threw everything to the wind and rushed to Henderson's rescue.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Manda splashed into the water, dragged the wiry man away from Henderson, and put her knife to the attacker's throat. Henderson backed away, panting, his sleeve stained red.

  The man Manda held was Ian O'Malley, Ardmore's second-in-command. She stared in surprise. "What the hell?"

  O'Malley glared at Henderson. "You trumped up English twit. Who the devil's side are you on?"

  "You tell me," Henderson said, his voice taut with anger. "I see you sneaking up on the woman I love, ready to stick your knife into her. What do you expect me to do? Stand back and watch?"

  "Oh, you love her now, do you?" O'Malley asked, incredulous. "That's a change, Mr. High-and
-Mighty, too good for any but the loftiest ladies."

  "Don't change the subject."

  Manda blinked at Henderson, but she didn't let O'Malley go or move her knife from his throat.

  "Why were you trying to kill her?" Henderson sapped at O'Malley.

  "I never was."

  "You were going at her with a knife, plague take you. On Ardmore's orders?"

  "No." Ardmore's voice broke the stillness behind them. He strode out of the firelight, Christopher right behind him.

  Manda recognized that Christopher was in a towering rage and barely containing himself. Ardmore was icily calm.

  Henderson swung to Ardmore. "What did you tell him to do?" he demanded.

  Ardmore's green gaze flicked from one combatant to the other. Behind them, near the fire, Diana and Honoria stood together, watching.

  "I told O'Malley to capture her," Ardmore said. "She'd not have been harmed."

  "He would have been," Manda said, still with her knife on O'Malley.

  "A risk I was willing to take," Ardmore said.

  O'Malley looked pained. "Oh, thank you, me so compassionate captain."

  "Taking a hostage?" Christopher asked, deadly quiet.

  "To ensure your good behavior. You're up to something, Raine."

  Christopher turned to him, and Manda held her breath, wondering if Ardmore had just spoken his last words.

  Then Christopher took a step back and raised his hands, a slow, deliberate movement. "Take her, then."

  Manda gaped at him. Henderson glared. Even O'Malley stared in astonishment. Christopher said, "Manda, let him go."

  Christopher was up to something all right. Manda thought she knew what, but it would be a while before she could get him alone and make him tell her.

  She trusted him enough to obey him now. Manda eased her knife from O'Malley's throat and set the small man on his feet.

  O'Malley gingerly touched his neck. "Much obliged, darling."

  Christopher turned back to Ardmore. "If you want assurance against my behavior, this will do it. Everyone knows I wouldn't make any move that would cause Manda harm." He held the other man with a long gaze. "But I don't trust you either, Ardmore. So I'd like a hostage as well. Your wife."

  Ardmore went still. The waves rushed up the beach, oblivious to the tension on shore. Ardmore and Christopher studied each other, captain to captain, once friends, now enemies.

  "You already took my sister," Ardmore said.

  "Your sister is angry at you," Christopher answered. "And I have the feeling you'd sacrifice her for some scheme of your own if you had to."

  Ardmore's mouth set in a thin line. "You'd be wrong."

  Manda watched Ardmore debate whether to pit his wife's safety against the chance that one of his own men would do something stupid. Manda knew Christopher would never harm Diana, no matter what happened--he wasn't like that--but Ardmore did not know. To him, Christopher was just another pirate.

  Diana herself broke the silence. "It's all right, James. I'll go."

  "No," Ardmore said in a hard voice.

  "It makes sense," Diana said. "If you each have someone the other cares about, you will keep the peace."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Ardmore," Christopher said. "She can stay on the Starcross. Mrs. Colby will look after her, until we finish."

  "I'll go with her," Honoria said quickly.

  "No, you won't," Christopher said, his voice stern. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

  Honoria went silent, but Manda could see her itch to argue. Ardmore was rigid with fury. They were definitely brother and sister.

  "This arrangement will be better," Christopher said to Ardmore. "If Manda knows your innocent wife's life is at stake, she won't try to kill your crew and take over your ship. She's kindhearted that way."

  Ardmore took a step closer to Christopher. "If Diana is harmed in any way, know that Manda will die, slowly and painfully."

  Christopher's look was as quiet. "I know." He turned away. "Henderson, row these ladies to their respective ships. Make sure you take the correct lady to the correct ship."

  "Not Henderson," Ardmore growled.

  "Why not?"

  "You heard him say he was in love with your sister. I don't trust him."

  "Better still. If he's fond of Manda, he won't harm her, and he won't harm Diana, because he likes her. He's a true gentleman. And Manda probably won't kick his teeth in."

  That was true, Manda thought. Probably, she wouldn't.

  Ardmore at last conceded, though he was clearly unhappy. His own fault, Manda thought. He'd started it by sending O'Malley against her. She only worried about Christopher now, on this island with Ardmore, without Manda to watch his back.

  Henderson helped Diana into the rowboat with exaggerated care, then he and Manda pushed it from the beach. The crews dispersed, excitement over. As Manda climbed over the gunwale, she heard Christopher say to Ardmore, "It's good to see you care so much for someone. I always thought you were a coldhearted bastard."

  "I am a coldhearted bastard," Ardmore said. "I just happen to love my wife."

  The boat ran up a wave, and Manda heard nothing more over the rush of the sea.

  *** *** ***

  Manda helped Diana climb aboard the Starcross, leaving her in the care of a surprised Mrs. Colby. Diana was carefully polite when she said her good-byes to Manda and Henderson. A cool lady, and resilient.

  Henderson rowed Manda toward the Argonaut, Manda taking the bouncing tiller. Warm yellow lanterns outlined the Argonaut from bow to stern, and moonlight bathed it in a chill white glow.

  Henderson continued to pull the oars, oblivious to Manda's scrutiny, his muscles straining under his lawn shirt. He managed to be graceful even at this menial task.

  Where was she supposed to start? Saying, So you love me, do you? sounded trite and hopeless. She should have asked Honoria how she went about talking about her feelings. Manda had never learned how to broach any subject involving emotions. Avoiding them was easier.

  Henderson stopped rowing, shipped the oars, and sat back to catch his breath. The Argonaut hung out of reach, rocking on its anchor.

  "We're not there yet," Manda said.

  "I know." The moonlight turned the lenses of his spectacles opaque. "We need to clear up a few things."

  "You want us to talk about our feelings, you mean?"

  Even in the dark she saw him flush. "You heard me say I was in love with you. Very well, where are your sarcastic comments? Your derisive banter?"

  Manda's heart beat faster. "If you love me so much, why did you leave the Starcross and go back to the Argonaut with your captain? Without a word to me?"

  Henderson rested his strong arms on his thighs and regarded her quietly. "Because all my things are there. I have a silk waistcoat and some boots that--" He broke off. "Never mind. I wanted to fetch them. I'm quit of Ardmore. I told him so."

  Manda's throat ached. "You are?"

  "I told him why too." He smiled, a quirk of lips. "Because I fell for a warrior woman. Me, the proper English gent."

  The waves slapped quietly at the hull, the tiller moving a little under her hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "And have you spit in my face? I was going to take things slowly. I didn't mean to say it back there. It slipped out when I saw O'Malley going for you with his knife."

  Manda let go of the tiller. They weren't moving anymore, only drifting on the waves. She climbed over benches until she could sit facing him. "I don't want to spit in your face."

  "Or kick me. I've seen you kick." His smile broadened. "You knocked a man out with your bare feet. I admire your technique. And your legs. You have beautiful legs, Manda."

  She felt her face heat. "Never mind my legs." So why was she so absurdly pleased that he liked them? "I thought you'd want only prim and proper ladies, like Honoria."

  "So did I. I think . . ." He trailed off, staring out at the dark water. "I think in the past I tried to court ladies like Honoria and Alexan
dra precisely because they were unattainable. I didn't truly want them, I only thought I did. What I need is a bit of wildness in my life." Henderson turned to Manda again, the spectacles still obscuring his eyes. "No, what I need is you. I knew that as soon as I saw you."

  Manda leaned forward and snatched off the damned spectacles. His eyes were fixed on her, clear gray, pupils wide in the dark. "So what are you going to do about it?" she asked.

  Henderson sat up straight and put his hand on his heart. "I am going to ask you, dear lady, to marry me."

  Manda's jaw went slack. "What?"

  "As soon as we make the next port. I have money; I'll obtain the license. All I need is a bride."

  He was serious. Manda's heart pounded until she was queasy. But his eyes were so warm, his smile rueful and handsome.

  The smile was not all that was handsome about Alden Henderson. His broad shoulders filled out his fine shirt, and Manda knew what it felt like to be held in his strong arms. She swallowed. "But you're a proper English gentleman, and I'm the illegitimate daughter of a freed slave."

  "Yes, my family will be shocked. But they will come to accept it. They are kind people, underneath it all. They've already become used to the idea that I am a pirate hunter shipping out with the fugitive Captain Ardmore."

  Manda barely heard his words, delivered in his upper-class Englishman's tones. "All right," she said. "I'll marry you."

  Henderson looked the slightest bit surprised, then he grinned. "Thank you. You've made me the happiest man in the world, my dear."

  "What if I can't make you happy?" she asked, worried. "I'm a pirate. You're a pirate hunter."

  Henderson put his hands on Manda's shoulders and drew her to him. "I think that arrangement is already working nicely." He kissed her lips then lifted her onto his lap. "I love your legs, Manda," he murmured as he drew his hand along one. "And the rest of you too."

  Manda held on to him, seeking his lips again. After a long time, she said, "The boat is drifting."

  "Is it?" Henderson's breath was hot, his touch, heavenly. "I don't much care, do you?"

  She didn't. They drifted a while longer before finally bumping against the Argonaut, then they climbed aboard, ignoring the ribald remarks of Ardmore's men.