“Cap’n?” Bonny inquired. He had the wheel and he knew he’d be the first to meet
his doom if they tried to escape the pirates. A ship without a helmsman, floundering in
circles, was an easy target to snare.
Andelton was staring at the one hundred or so scruffy men lining the decks of the
other ship and he shook his head. “They’ve got us outmanned, Sedric. Have the men
stand down.”
“What of my lady?” Alsandair asked. “Her safety and the child’s—”
“All we can do is hope to bargain with their captain,” Andelton said. “Mayhap he’ll
allow you to ransom her.” He turned apologetic eyes to Alsandair. “Don’t let on you’re
a military man. He’ll gut you right off.”
“Aye, and mayhap he’ll rape her first then turn her over to his men,” Alsandair said
through clenched teeth.
“That’s Andre Corsair’s ship,” the captain said. “He’s not like some of his ilk. Now
if it were his brother Louis, then things would be about as bad as they could get.”
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“They aren’t now?” Alsandair scoffed.
“I’ve heard of Andre Corsair,” Kyle said. “He’s about as close to a gentleman pirate
as they come, Sandair. Don’t do anything rash and pray they will let us ransom Rylee.”
He looked at Andelton. “You know they are going to take your ship and set us adrift.”
“They might,” Andelton said, resigned. “Then again, they may take us as hostages
too.” He glanced at Alsandair. “Put down your weapon, son. Don’t take a chance they’ll
come after you.”
Hating to lower his sword, Alsandair stared defiantly across the water as the pirate
ship got close enough for her crew to throw grappling hooks over the railing of the
Mary Constance. His dark stare met that of the man he reckoned to be the leader of the
ragtag band of thieves and he thought he saw a smirk on the man’s deeply tanned face.
“Put it down, Sandair!” Kyle hissed at him, reaching out to slap his hand on
Alsandair’s arm. “There’s a quarrel with your name on it just waiting to fly!”
Against his better judgment and his warrior instincts, Alsandair bent down to lay
his sword on the deck.
“The blades too,” Kyle hissed.
Cursing beneath his breath, Alsandair placed his two daggers atop the sword and
stood up slowly. He flinched as the first grappling hook came arcing over the side of the
ship and the prong buried itself deeply into the teak.
As the pirates came swarming over the side of the Mary Constance, the captain and
his crew huddled together, pushing Kyle and Alsandair into their midst.
The man who swung over to the deck of Andelton’s ship behind his crew wore a
pair of tight-fitting black leather britches that molded to his long legs like a second skin.
His billowing white shirt was open to the waist to reveal a muscular chest pelted with
dark hair. With the sleeves rolled up to display brawny arms and the scarlet headband
that held his shoulder-length black hair back from his face, he was every inch the pirate
of legend. From the golden hoop in his left ear to the deadly looking dagger at his hip,
he was a formidable sight as he let go of the rope and dropped gracefully to the deck.
It wasn’t so much the swagger that irritated Alsandair as the man came toward
them. Had he been asked, he would have dismissed the notion that the neatly clipped
goatee and mustache, the broad shoulders and the capable-looking hands brought out
the anger in him. Nor was it a face he had to begrudgingly admit was fairly handsome
that aggravated him. What annoyed Alsandair the most were the gleaming white teeth
exposed behind a taunting grin and a sardonically lifted eyebrow aimed right at
Alsandair. He longed to smash his fist into that gloating mouth and relieve the grinner
of more than a handful of teeth.
“So,” the pirate inquired in Jentu as he pushed aside three men so he could stand
directly in front of Alsandair. “What is it you have that is so precious you would dare to
take up arms against a Corsair brother?”
“He didn’t know who—” Andelton began, but when Andre Corsair held up a
staying hand, the captain shut up.
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“Who are you, my friend?” Andre asked, his black-as-soot eyes boring into
Alsandair’s.
“Alsandair Farrell,” came the reply from a tightly clenched jaw. “And I am not
your—”
“Kyle Striker,” the man at Alsandair’s side said, stepping forward to draw the
pirate’s notice. “Brother of Khalid al-Rashid.”
Andre’s dark peaked brows shot up. “Are you really?”
Kyle nodded. “I ask—in my brother’s name—that you allow us to be on our way.”
The pirate regarded Kyle for a moment. “Aye, I can see the resemblance.” He
folded his arms over his chest. “You realize of course the cargo and ship are now mine.”
“Aye, but do you really need the ship?” Kyle asked.
Andre Corsair shrugged. “No, but it is a worthy vessel and would bring much on
the block.” He glanced around. “Where’s the woman I spied earlier on deck?”
Alsandair tensed and would have stepped up to the pirate but Kyle blocked him.
“Captain Corsair,” Kyle said. “The lady is a newlywed and—”
“To him?” Andre inquired, giving Alsandair an insulting look then shook his head.
“Surely she could have done better than this one. In the eyepiece of my glass she was a
stunning woman with a lush shape.”
“Don’t talk about my wife like that!” Alsandair snarled.
“I’ll talk about her however I like,” the pirate said with a snort. “I have command of
this ship.”
Alsandair raised his chin. “If it is a duel you want—”
“Sandair, hush!” Kyle snapped.
Andre threw back his head and laughed, his crew joining in with loud, raucous
guffaws. They were grinning as though they knew something the men of the Mary
Constance did not. As the laughter died down, the pirate spoke in a language Alsandair
did not know and one of the pirate’s men started below.
“Leave her alone!” Alsandair bellowed, and would have attacked the pirate had
Kyle not grabbed him on one side and Briarly on the other, holding him back.
“Quite a temper has this little Anlusian,” Andre chuckled. He cocked his head to
one side. “You are Anlusian, aren’t you, boy?”
“I’m not a boy,” Alsandair grated, struggling to break free of Kyle and Briarly’s
holds.
“Is that lovely redhead an Anlusian filly too?” Andre countered. He stepped up toe
to toe with Alsandair. “Is she a natural redhead?”
“Get out of my face, you bastard,” Alsandair growled.
“I’ve never bedded a true redhead,” the pirate continued, almost nose to nose with
the man he was taunting. “Is the fleecy down between her thighs as fiery as the rest of
her lovely hair?”
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Cursing the man before him, Alsandair bucked against those holding him and
would have kicked the pirate had not Rylee’s voice broke through his irrational fury.
“Sandair, don’t!” she shouted.
The pirate crew moved back as the woman in question
was drawn forward by the
crewman who had gone below to ferret out her hiding place and bring her to his
captain. Her upper arm was in the man’s tight grip but his left eye was swelling shut
and there were deep furrows down his arms where his captive had scored him with her
nails.
“Rylee, for the love of the gods—” Kyle began, but already she was heading for the
pirate leader.
“Leave my husband alone, you brute,” she snapped.
Andre was staring at her with eyes wide and lips parted. He’d only viewed her
from a distance through the spyglass and even then he had thought her magnificent.
Standing close to her, he realized she was far more beautiful than he had anticipated.
Seeing her up close hit him like a rack of stones had been dropped on him.
“Milady,” he said, sweeping her a deep bow. “I am your devoted servant.”
Rylee’s heart was thundering in her chest for she realized the precariousness of the
situation. She knew next to nothing about pirates save that they were a bloodthirsty,
evil bunch known to rape and ravage and pillage, brutally murder and had no
compunction about doing any of that. She was shivering as she was brought before the
man who was obviously the pirate leader. She had not expected him to bow to her or to
be so—well, handsome.
“What are your intentions, sir?” she heard herself ask, and winced at the fear in her
voice.
Andre flung out a hand and the man holding Rylee’s arm released her immediately
and stepped back. The pirate leader stepped up to her and took her hand in his,
bringing it to his chest. “You, milady, deserve only the very best and I intend to see you
get it.”
“Get your gods-be-damned hands off my woman!” Alsandair spat.
It wasn’t that Kyle and Briarly had relaxed their hold on Alsandair or that they had
lost a modicum of their concentration that made it possible for the man they were
holding to break free. What broke their hold was the snapping of their captive’s
restraint and the nearly insane fury that turned him into something not quite human.
Before they could stop him, Alsandair had thrown himself on Andre Corsair and both
men went crashing to the deck in a tangled heap of flailing arms and punishing fists.
Reaching out to drag Rylee back from the fight, Kyle winced as one particularly
vicious blow rocked the pirate’s head before Corsair managed to get in one of his own
that knocked his opponent back against a spar.
“Stop them, Kyle!” Rylee pleaded, struggling to get away from Kyle.
“I can’t,” Kyle said.
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No man there would have stepped between the two fighters. Crowding back and
away from the combatants, pirates and crew of the Mary Constance alike recognized true
fury when they saw it. Evenly matched in size and height, and each intending to do as
much damage to the other as was humanly possible, the men crashed into one another
time and again. Despite the situation, men will be men and those gathered began to
make bets on the outcome.
Alsandair staggered after one particularly brutal blow and went down to one knee,
his hand skidding along the deck. He looked down as his fingers touched the hilt of one
of his daggers. He snatched it up and got to his feet.
“Sandair, no!” Rylee shouted. She tried to get away from Kyle’s hold but he held
her easily.
Andre Corsair backed away from the threat now crouched in fighting stance before
him. He smiled nastily and his hand went to the dagger at his belt. “Are you any good
with that?” he taunted Alsandair as he drew his blade.
“You’re about to find out,” Alsandair snarled, his eyes narrowed, lips drawn back.
He lunged forward.
The clash of steel rang out over the deck as one man parried and the other blocked.
Across the deck they hacked at one another, neither getting the upper hand, each as
expert with his blade as was the other.
“I believe you’re a soldier,” Andre commented as his opponent drove him back and
he had to whirl around a mast to keep from having his belly sliced open. “An Anlusian
Guard, perhaps?”
“I believe you’re a coward,” Alsandair returned. “Why do you keep backing
away?”
Men of the pirate crew gasped at the insult but Andre merely laughed. He drove
forward with his blade and the edge caught Alsandair’s. They were chest to chest with
their blades pressed between them.
“You aren’t going to win, boy,” Andre said in a low voice no one but Alsandair
could hear.
“I’ll die trying,” Alsandair growled.
“Aye, but that I won’t allow because it might break yon lady’s tender heart and I’ve
no desire to spend the rest of my life easing her sorrow. I’d rather be making slow love
to her.”
Rage fell over Alsandair’s face and he pushed his enemy away, slashing out with
his dagger, but Andre jumped back, grinning like a mischievous schoolboy. He kept
well back from Alsandair’s flashing blade, playing keep-away around the tall spars,
feigning striking with his blade only to dance away and leap to a crate out of the way.
“Stand and fight, you bastard!” Alsandair bellowed, and tried to swipe his blade
across the other man’s shins but the pirate jumped up in the air and did a very graceful
back somersault off the crate, landing easily on the balls of his feet.
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“By the gods,” Captain Andelton said as the men of his crew drew in shocked gasps
of breaths.
Skirting the crate, Alsandair went after the pirate and once more their blades
clashed with a loud skirling of metal. Both men were tiring but neither was willing to
cry quarter and so they fought on—dancing across the deck like the warriors they were.
“Kyle, please,” Rylee begged him. Tears were flowing down her cheeks for she
expected one of the pirate leader’s men to ventilate Alsandair’s back at any moment. It
was while she was looking at Kyle, pleading with him, that Alsandair fell. She knew it
was him and not the pirate at the very moment it happened and whipped her head
around, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock.
Alsandair went down hard, tripping over a coil of line that lay on the deck. The
breath was knocked from his body and as he struggled to breathe, to get up, to continue
with the fight, his opponent put a booted foot to Alsandair’s chest and pushed him
down, shifted his foot to trap his opponent’s dagger hand to the deck. Bending over, he
put the tip of his blade to Alsandair’s throat.
“It’s over, boy,” Andre said, and dug the tip of the steel just a little into his enemy’s
flesh. “Ask quarter and I’ll let you live.”
His eyes flashing dark fire, Alsandair clenched his teeth together, a muscle jumping
in his jaw. The pirate was leaning over him, speaking so softly no one else could hear.
“Don’t let her see you die like this,” Andre told him. “Live to fight me another
day.”
“Go to hell,” Alsandair said, still gasping to drag breath into his depleted lungs.
Rylee stamped her foot down hard on Kyle’s instep and the gambler released her
> with a grunt of pain. Before anyone could stop her, she ran across the deck, stopping at
Andre Corsair’s side and putting out a trembling hand to stay what she thought was to
be her husband’s execution.
“Please, milord,” she said, drawing the pirate’s eyes to her. “Let him live and I’ll do
whatever you want.”
“Shut up, Rylee!” Alsandair hissed, and would have struggled up but the pirate
lashed out with a perfectly timed left hook and pulled the stars down from the heaven
for Alsandair Farrell. The young warrior went out as darkness enveloped him.
“Sandair!” Rylee cried out, and dropped to the deck.
“He’s merely unconscious, milady. I’ve bruised his jaw and his ego, nothing more,”
Andre said. He glanced at a man standing near him. “Tie the little bastard up and put
him and the rest of them in the jolly boats and lower them over the side.”
Rylee looked up at him. “Please, don’t do that! Let them go on their way. I said I
would do whatever you—”
Andre reached down and took her arm to help her up. He shook his head as she
would have continued her protest. “Milady, this isn’t entirely about you,” he said
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gently. “We came for the ship and its cargo.” He smiled, his eyes roaming over her
flushed face. “Finding you merely sweetened the deal.”
“Don’t put them adrift,” Rylee pleaded. “I’ve heard of men dying out on the
ocean.”
“There will be ships coming by within the next few days,” Andre told her. “I’ll
leave them enough water to last them.”
“Please,” she said, her lips trembling. “Isn’t there some place safe to which you can
take them?”
“Clare Island is nearby,” Captain Andelton spoke up. “Could you not at least take
us close to it before putting us in the boats? We have a child with us.”
The pirate captain frowned. “A child?”
“My little boy,” Rylee said. She was aware the strong hand that held her did so
gently and that his thumb was smoothing up and down her arm.
“Yours and his?” Andre queried.
“A child we adopted from Midworld,” Rylee said.
Andre looked away from her to Kyle and spoke to the gambler in the language of
that land. When Kyle answered in the same language, casting her a stern look, Rylee
stilled, looking from one man to the other. The pirate was quiet for so long, she became
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