The Pirate
Jayne Ann Krentz
Copyright © 1990 by:
Jayne Ann Krentz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Cover Design: Annissa Turpin
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171221.180045
Dedication
For Debbie Macomber,
a generous friend
Who doesn’t mind sharing a nifty idea.
Prologue
“No, absolutely not. You cannot make me get on that plane. I won’t go.” Katherine Inskip braced herself in her chair and glared at the two women across the small table. Behind her, the glass panes of the airport lounge window vibrated as a jet roared past on the runway, then climbed into cloudy Seattle skies. “There are laws against this sort of thing. This is illegal impressment or something. You can’t do it.”
“Save the drama for your next book, Kate. You are going to board that plane in fifteen minutes.” Margaret Lark, sleek and cool as always, checked the expensive black-and-gold watch on her wrist. Her voice was calm and authoritative. She had spent several years in the corporate world and could still dominate a meeting when the occasion arose. “Sarah and I have discussed the matter thoroughly and we both agree that you need a vacation. Even your agent said it might not be a bad idea and you know things are bad when your agent thinks you should take a little time off work.”
“It’s true, Kate. You know it is.” Sarah Fleetwood, on the same side of the table and the argument as Margaret, smiled gently, her fey eyes soft with concern. “You’re much too tense and nervous lately. You’ve said yourself that you’re not sleeping well. And your appetite is fading. Why, you haven’t felt like making pizza or tacos for weeks, and that’s not like you. It’s the stress. You’ve got to do something about it.”
Kate scowled at her. “So what if I’m a little stressed? I’ve just come off a ten-day, ten-city book promotion tour. What do you expect? I’m tired, that’s all.”
“It’s more than just jet lag from the tour,” Margaret said. “It’s been building up for some time. Kate, you’ve become a workaholic and if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re going to pay a price.”
“What’s wrong with being a workaholic? I like my work. In fact, I love it. You know I do. I’m not happy unless I’m writing. I’ll go nuts if you take me away from it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your writing,” Sarah assured her in soothing tones. “Margaret and I love writing, too. That’s not the point.”
“Well, what is the point?” Kate demanded, feeling cornered. “I’m happy just the way I am, I tell you. Happy, do you hear me?” She slapped the small table for emphasis. “I’ve never been so damned happy.”
“The point is that you need to start leading a more balanced life,” Margaret announced. “You’ve been going at a hundred-mile-an-hour pace for far too long. Since your divorce, in fact. You need a break and now that Buccaneer’s Bride is safely on the stands, you can afford the time to take one. Trust me on this, Kate. When I was working in the business world, I saw plenty of examples of what overwork and stress can do to people. Not a pretty sight.” She dug an airline ticket envelope out of her black Italian-leather handbag. “You need to learn how to take time out to relax and enjoy life.”
“And Amethyst Island sounds like the perfect place for you to do just that,” Sarah announced. Her unsettlingly insightful gaze rested on Kate’s set face for a few seconds. Then she reached out and took the ticket envelope from Margaret and pushed it into Kate’s fingers. “Margaret and I have looked into this thoroughly. The place has everything: palm trees, warm, tropical seas, a first-class luxury resort, papayas, coconuts...”
“I hate coconuts,” Kate pointed out desperately. “You know I do. Remember how I wouldn’t eat any of those cookies you made last week because they had those yucky little bits of coconut in them?”
“So you’ll eat papaya, instead,” Margaret said with a shrug. She glanced at her watch again and stood up, slender and chic in her tailored blazer and fine wool slacks. “Time to head for the departure lounge.”
Sarah jumped up beside Margaret, boundless enthusiasm lighting her elfin features. “On your feet, kiddo. You’re on your way to paradise and you’re going to love it. I just know it.”
Kate looked up at her beseechingly and knew she was defeated. It was sometimes possible to argue logically with Margaret, but when Sarah got that expression of intuitive certainty in her deep, knowing hazel eyes, nothing could change her mind. Small, delicate and vibrant, Sarah always made Kate think of a brightly plumed hummingbird. Today, dressed in a lemon-yellow sweater and black-and-white striped jeans, she looked more than ever like some small, exotic bird.
“Sarah, I know you and Margaret mean well, but...”
Sarah took Kate’s arm and hauled her to her feet. “Just think of what’s waiting for you, friend. You’re heading for genuine pirate territory. The real thing. Just like a setting from one of your books. Margaret did the research on this, and she says it’s the place for you. You know how accurate Margaret is with her research.”
A gnawing sense of fatalism settled over Kate. Sarah was right—Margaret’s research was always impeccable. It was one of the things that lent real power to her friend’s sophisticated stories of love and intrigue amid the jungles of the modern corporate world.
“And Margaret says Amethyst Island actually has a ruined castle left over from the days when a real live buccaneer lived there,” Sarah went on cheerfully.
“A castle?” Kate was intrigued in spite of herself. Sarah had her halfway down the corridor now, plowing along in Margaret’s elegant wake. “This island has a castle on it?”
“That’s right. And a history of violence and lust. Just think, Kate, you’re going to be able to explore a genuine pirate hideaway. No telling what sorts of bloody deeds were done there in the last century. Think of the atmosphere you’ll soak up.”
“What is this about lust?” Kate asked.
Sarah waved an airy hand. “Oh, there’s some legend about how the pirate king who settled the island went back to England once, kidnapped his bride and took her away to the South Seas. I don’t know all the details. I write contemporary romantic suspense, not historical romance, remember?”
“He kidnapped his bride?” Clutching the ticket envelope more tightly, Kate allowed herself to be thrust into the crowd of people milling about at the boarding gate. “What pirate? Which legend? I never heard of any stories about Amethyst Island. In fact, I’ve never even heard of Amethyst Island.”
Margaret smiled and impulsively hugged her friend in farewell. “It’s part of a small chain in the South Pacific called the Jewel Islands. You’ll have plenty of time to find out all about the place. Have a wonderful time, Kate. When you come back, you’ll feel like a new woman.”
Alarm flared through Kate as the crowd caught her up and carried her toward the jetway. “Wait. What’s this about lots of time? When am I coming back? How long am I to be banished to a tropical island, for heaven’s sake?”
“You’ve got reservations for a month at the only resort on the island,” Sarah called out just as Kate got hustled through the doorway.
“A month? Good grief, that’s forever. I’ll be bored to tears. I’ll be crawling the walls. I’ll be a basket case by the time I get back. And it’ll cost a fortune. Neither of you can afford to send me away for a month.”
“We put the whole thing on your bank charge card,” Margaret assured her.
“Oh, Lord, talk about stress,” Kate wailed. “I’ll never recover.”
Sarah chuckled. “Send us a postcard.”
Margaret waved farewell. An instant later, Kate lost sight of both women as she was swept up and carried down the ramp to the open door of the waiting jet.
Back in the departure lounge, Margaret frowned with faint concern. “I hope we did the right thing.”
“We did,” Sarah said with cheerful certainty as they both turned to walk back through the bustling terminal. “I have a feeling about this Amethyst Island. As soon as you found out about it from the travel agent, I knew it was the right place to send Kate.”
“You and your intuition.”
“My intuition hasn’t been known to fail yet.” Sarah halted abruptly in front of a newsstand and grinned at a display of paperbacks.
One book stood out from all the rest on the rack. Its cover, lush and colorful, featured a powerful, good-looking man dressed in a wide-sleeved shirt that was open to the waist to display an impressive chest. A lethal-looking dagger was thrust into his belt. Locked in his fierce, passionate embrace was a fiery-haired woman clad in a diaphanous gown. The backdrop featured a misty view of a tropical island and a ship with billowing sails. The title, picked out in gold, was Buccaneer’s Bride. Stamped across the top of the book in bold script was the author’s name, Katherine Inskip.
“You know what would really make this a perfect vacation for Kate?” Sarah mused.
“Sure. Finding herself a real live pirate and having herself a nice little adventure.” Margaret’s brows rose and her mouth curved in wry amusement. “But don’t hold your breath, Sarah. She’s no more likely to encounter the man of her dreams than you or I are. We three may write about romance and adventure for a living, but we live in the real world.”
“I know.” Sarah shook her head thoughtfully. “But at least you and I still have our eyes out for the right man. Kate has given up looking for him altogether. I wonder if she’d even recognize him if he came along?”
“Probably not. Even if he did happen along, he’d have a heck of a job on his hands just getting her attention. The only men Kate really sees these days are the ones she puts in her books.”
“Maybe. But you know something?” Sarah cast one last glance at the cover of Buccaneer’s Bride. “I really do have this feeling about sending Kate off to Amethyst Island. Go ahead and laugh if you like, but I think she’s in for something more than just a routine South Seas island vacation.”
Chapter 1
“What on earth do you mean, hand over my purse, you little worm?” Kate stood in the narrow, cobbled alley and stared in outraged disbelief at the little man wielding the big knife. It was all too much.
She was hot, tired and thoroughly disgusted. Her canvas-and-leather flight bags hung heavily from her shoulders and her camera felt like an albatross around her neck. The purse the little man was demanding so rudely was slung diagonally across her body and bulged with magazines, guide books, cosmetics and a small statue carved out of lava.
The once rakish-looking safari dress was now damp with perspiration and sadly wrinkled from several hours of sitting in a cramped coach-class airline seat. The traveling had become an endless nightmare. Kate was convinced that owing to some oversight on her part during a previous lifetime she was now doomed to travel through this South Seas purgatory forever, never again to know the comforts of civilization.
The little creep standing in front of her waving the knife was definitely the last straw.
“You heard me, lady.”
The small, unkempt man reminded Kate of a rat. He darted a nervous glance over her shoulder and then back over his own. Satisfied that the alley was still deserted except for his victim, he motioned with the wicked-looking weapon. “I said give me your purse. Hurry. It ain’t like I got all day, y’know.”
“You’ve obviously spent so much time in this heat that you’ve fried what few brains you’ve got. Quite understandable. This place is an oven. But pay attention. If I’d wanted to get mugged, I could have stayed home. I have not endured an endless flight, eaten rotten airline food, had my luggage lost and missed my connections just to wind up turning over my purse to the first two-bit thief who comes along.”
“Jesus, lady, will you keep your voice down?”
“Why should I keep my voice down?” Kate’s voice, already laced with outrage, rose yet another notch in volume. “I have no intention of handing over my purse or anything else to you. Now get out of this alley and leave me alone.”
“Now look here, you crazy bitch.” The man waved the knife threateningly, but he took a step back when Kate’s eyes narrowed. Once more he glanced anxiously over his shoulder. “I ain’t got time to be nice about this.”
“Neither do I.” Kate grabbed her camera and held it up to one eye. She focused on her target and squeezed the shutter-release button. The man’s mouth fell open in shock. “A charming pose. You know, if you knew what I’ve been through today, I’m sure you’d find yourself another poor helpless tourist to rob. I am not in a good mood.”
“I don’t care what kinda mood you’re in.”
Kate ignored his interruption. “Furthermore, I am a person who has been under a great deal of stress lately, according to my friends. People who have been under stress are unpredictable and dangerous. You never know what they’re going to do.” She squeezed off another shot.
“Hey, what are you doin’?” The little man swore and leaped back another step, instinctively raising a hand to shield his face. “Stop takin’ pictures of me. What’s the matter with you? Just give me the damned purse.”
“Very well. Since you insist.” Kate let the camera fall to her waist. Grimly, she let the heavy shoulder bags slide to the pavement. She tugged at the leather strap of her purse.
“That’s better. Come on, come on.”
“This,” Kate said through her teeth, “has been the worst trip of my entire life and I’ve hardly gotten started. I can’t wait to get home and tell my friends what they did to me. Here. You want my purse? Help yourself.” Kate turned the bulging bag upside down and dumped the contents at her feet.
The would-be thief swore again in a strangled-sounding voice. “You’re crazy, lady. You know that? Crazy.”
“Stressed, not crazy. There’s a difference. If I were crazy, I might actually be enjoying myself.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
“Getting myself robbed.” Kate finished emptying the purse. “Come and get it, you little runt.”
“Get outa my way.” The man edged cautiously forward. “Get back. Go on, get back.”
“Is there a good living in this sort of thing?” Kate watched as the man hunkered and worked his way closer to where her wallet lay on the ground.
“Shut up. Just shut up, will you? Don’t you ever close that damned mouth of yours?” The little man lunged toward the wallet.
Kate waited until the last second and then kicked out at the hand holding the knife.
“Aargh!”
Caught off balance, the thief dropped the knife and scuttled to one side like a small, startled crab. Kate took a step forward and kicked him again, this time catching the man in a far more vulnerable spot.
“Damn you, you crazy, stupid woman! You’re a real nut, you know that?” The man rolled to one side, hugging himself. He lurched to his feet, backing away from her. Then his nervous little eyes flicked to a point behind her. He cursed, turned and fled.
“That’s it!” Kate yelled after him, her hands on her hips. “Run like the coward you are. You remind me of my ex-husband, you little twerp.”
But the man was long gone. Grumbling, Kate knelt on the cobblestones to retrieve her belongings. It was not a simple task because her fingers were shaking.
“Did you kick your ex-husband around like that?” inquired a deep, amused male voice from behind her.
With a gasp, Kate shot to her feet and spun around. A man lounged in the alley entrance. He was a very large man, a couple of inches over six feet, lean and hard and b
road shouldered. Caught in the harsh glare and deep shadows cast by the intense tropical sun, he looked infinitely more dangerous than the man with the knife. The slashing, wicked grin that revealed his teeth did nothing to soften the impression.
But far more unsettling than the dangerous quality was the fact that the big stranger looked eerily familiar. Yet Kate was certain she had never seen him before in her life. She would not be likely to forget those cool silver eyes.
“Who are you? The little twerp’s accomplice?” But even as she asked the question she knew this man did not eke out a hand-to-mouth existence taking wallets from innocent tourists. If he chose crime as a career path, he’d go into it in a big way. He’d be a jewel thief or a mob leader. Two hundred years ago, he would have been a pirate.
“The little twerp doesn’t have any friends, let alone accomplices.”
“You know him?”
“Sharp Arnie and I have encountered each other occasionally over the years. We’re not exactly pals.”
“Oh.” Kate frowned. “Did he run off because he saw you?”
“I believe he ran off because he thought he was going to get stomped into the ground trying to retrieve your wallet.”
“I was certainly going to do my best to stomp him. The nerve of some people. Shouldn’t we be notifying the authorities or something?”
“Sharp Arnie will be taken care of in due time. Don’t worry about him. It’s a small island.”
“I’ll be happy to file a complaint or press charges or whatever one does in this sort of situation.”
“Don’t bother. We’re not real formal around here. Guess I’d better give you a hand picking that junk up or we’ll be stuck on Ruby all day.”
The man levered himself away from the pink wall and paced toward her. He moved with an easy, coordinated stride that bespoke strength.
The Pirate Page 1
