The Pirate Bride

by Shannon Drake

  “Is he here?” Red asked.

  Hagar nodded. “Awaiting you at the Cock’s Crow.”

  “Fine. And the cargo?”

  “Already at the tavern, Cap’n,” Hagar said. “All know you’re the rightful owner, all are considering their bids, should he decide not to buy.”

  “Fine. Skeleton crew is holding the ship, you know your orders.” Red started down the wharf with Brendan. Curious, Logan followed.

  Chickens skittered across the dirt road, flapping and clucking as they walked. “Gardez l’eau!” someone called out, and they stepped aside in time to miss the contents of a chamber pot. Red strode on with confidence, and Logan noticed men calling out in greeting, all with respectful tips of the hat or touches to the forehead. Red never did more than nod in return.

  “Amazing,” Logan said to Brendan.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve never seen a group of such derelicts show such respect to another man…even Blackbeard,” Logan muttered.

  “Red took down the devil, you see,” Brendan said quietly.

  Logan realized that the other didn’t intend for his words to be overheard and answered equally softly.

  “The devil?”

  “Ever hear of Black Luke?”

  Logan frowned. The man had been the terror of the seas, feared and loathed even by other pirates.

  Usually a pirate’s intent was not to sink a ship or to kill the crew. Ships were valuable. They were usually taken and added to a pirate’s fleet. Men were killed only when they refused to surrender, for the captured ships needed crews.

  Black Luke had sunk more ships than most men saw in a lifetime. He had never allowed a captured man to live. He had tortured his captives. His men had not voted, as was the pirate way, nor received their fair share of any treasure. There would have been a mutiny, had they not been so terrified for their lives. It had been said that he had eyes in the back of his head. One of his men had once tried to kill him when he had been sleeping. Black Luke had arisen to grab him by the neck and throw him into the sea.

  “Red killed Black Luke?” Logan asked incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Talent. And a hell of a lot of luck,” Brendan said.

  “Were you there?”

  Brendan’s jaw was as tight as a hangman’s noose. “Yes,” he said after a moment.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.”

  “I’d heard a rumor that Black Luke was dead, but no one ever seemed to know if it was true, or, if so, how he died,” Logan said.

  Brendan was staring straight ahead, clearly unwilling to explain.

  A door burst open, and a man came flying out of an establishment with peeling white paint and shuttered windows that were open to the day. He was followed by a woman with a mass of wild black hair, bare feet, a low cotton bodice and a multicolored skirt with the hem of a dirty petticoat peeking out from beneath it. “Take yer filthy paws elsewhere, y’ varmint!” she shouted. “My girls are not cheap!”

  “Your girls are whores!” the fellow yelled in return.

  “But they’re not cheap whores, and they’ll not be taking on the likes of you for nowt. Get away with ye.” She paused, a smile splitting her face as she saw Red. “Captain Robert,” she said, her tone delighted.

  “Aye, Sonya, we’re in port. Is Edward about?” Red asked.

  “He said ye’d be here. He’s a room ready fer yer negotiating in the back. Brendan, poppet,” she crooned. “And…what have we here?” she asked with a wink, her gaze moving admiringly over Logan.

  She walked up to him quickly with a sway in her steps but stopped short of touching him.

  “Why, it’s Laird Haggerty,” she said with another smile.

  That stopped Red, Logan noticed.

  “Aye, Sonya. A pleasure,” he said, and dipped his hat.

  Red was staring at him with an expression that plainly said, Men. Naturally, he knows the island’s harlots.

  Sonya frowned. “You are…sailing…together?” she said incredulously.

  “Laird Haggerty is our guest at the moment,” Brendan said. His tone, though pleasant enough, indicated that she should ask no more. Then he clapped a hand on Logan’s back. “To the rum, eh?” he said.

  “To the rum,” Logan agreed. He was certain he had no other choice. But as they entered the noisy, smoke-filled tavern, he could not help but watch Captain Red Robert as the pirate walked toward the rear of the dubious establishment.

  “Sonya knows you?” Brendan asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “I sail to all the known ports,” Logan said.

  “Seeking treasure?” Brendan asked skeptically.

  “I sell and trade,” Logan said, and looked away. “And, of course…every sailor seeks information,” he added.

  “Information?” Brendan pursued.

  “It’s wise for all of us to know what happens on the seas. Which…captains sail where.”

  “Ah. Pity, you didn’t hear about our whereabouts, then.”

  “Pity,” Logan agreed.

  “LITTLE GIRL! WELCOME!”

  The man already entrenched behind one of the tavern’s rickety wood tables in the rear corner of the place was huge. His double-breasted jacket was open, as was his cotton shirt, and grandiose lace spilled out over his velvet vest.

  Edward Teach, popularly known as Blackbeard, was fond of ostentatious clothing, as strange a contrast as it made with his thick dark hair, formidable size and ruggedly lined features. He was a sensual man, with full lips, large hands and a barrel-deep laugh.

  Red cast him a look of baleful warning.

  “Ah, think you that the lot of drunks beyond this wall can hear a bloody blessed thing over all their caterwauling and so-called music and whoring, missy?”

  “There are always those who long to topple the successful from power, and you know it,” Red reminded him, sliding the chair opposite him out from the table with her foot. As soon as she sat, he reached across the table and took her hands.

  “As you wish, Cap’n Red, so it will be. In the darkest of night, in solitude and to the heavens. Cap’n Red. That be that.”

  “I brought you treasure.”

  “I steal treasure for a living, as well you know.” He arched a brow. “I agreed to meet you here to consider your offer to join forces, not to buy treasure.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “This is an exceptional treasure.”

  “Oh?”

  “Spanish treasure.”

  He laughed. “Well, it’s sorry I am to say it, but the English have not come up with much treasure. The Spanish are the ones known to be wiping out whole populations and taking what they won’t be needing anymore, since they’re all dead.”

  “The English did not claim the lands where gold was to be found,” she said. “But, apparently, certain English nobles were willing to pay highly for this treasure. You’ve seen what I’ve brought. The pieces and the jewels are exquisite.”

  “Aye, I’ve seen what you brought. And it’s fine indeed.”

  “Of course. So you’ll offer me negotiable gold for it?”

  “I am an exceptional sea thief myself. I can steal my own treasure.”

  “But this one will cost you half its worth—and not a man to boot. You won’t waste a ball or shell, you will not have to let loose a single cannon. You can obtain this rare treasure at an unusually low cost in time, effort and life.”

  “I like you, and you know it. And I think you should live and take your pretty arse out of all this,” he said, nodding seriously.

  She smiled. He was one of the most feared men to sail the seas. He knew what she had instinctively fathomed: perception was of far greater value than truth. Not that he hadn’t slain his share of opponents, and not that he couldn’t be ruthless, but he didn’t kill every man he captured, and he was very fond of women. In fact, he had married many of them.

  He didn’t believe in divorce, but th
en, his marriages were hardly legal anyway. He was generous and kind with his women, though, and preferred a simple disappearing act to anything more fatal.

  “I heard that you chased Blair Colm,” she said flatly.

  He stared back at her and sighed. “Aye, I saw the man.”

  She leaned closer. “The ship—or the man himself?”

  He leaned in, as well. His beard, in which he took great pride, lay upon the table, with strings tied here and there through it. He liked to light hempen fuses when he went into battle, where he would appear to smoke and nearly burn, an image that filled the hearts of his opponents with terror.

  “I saw the man clearly with my spyglass. He has a fine ship. A frigate. He’s modified her, but she still can’t handle the shallows as a good sloop can. I might have been outgunned, so I did not draw so great a vessel against me. And perhaps he has heard that my reputation is beginning to equal that of any wretch upon the seas, for he had no taste for battle, either. He caught the wind with his mighty sails, and he was gone. He knew he’d find no mercy from me.”

  “A frigate,” Red said. She loved her sloop, but a frigate…was huge. It could carry tons of powder, shot and guns. It could not give chase into the shallows or maneuver narrow channels. But it the open, it was deadly.

  “You need to be staying away from him,” Teach said.

  “You know why I cannot.” She met his eyes and asked, “Where did you see him?”

  “He was heading north along the coast. I daresay he will hover near the towns and cities where he is honored by the British. Word is that he is looking for you, too. He believes that you stole one of his most valuable possessions.”

  “How can anyone honor such a man? I do not believe the people can possibly know what a heinous murderer he is.”

  He caught her hand. “One man kills, and he is a hero. Another kills, and he is a monster. It depends on which side of the battle line one is standing. You are a monster to some. When a man doesn’t see something with his own eyes, he doesn’t know what is truth, so he believes what becomes legend. Ah, come, girl. The average man wants only to live in peace, so he prays that conflict will not come his way. He is willing to accept the truth of what he is told is the rightful law rather than fight for anything that might disturb his world. Your monster is considered a great military commander by those with whom he does his business in England and the colonies. All anyone there knows is that he helped win the day for King William of Orange and the great empire. Had the war been lost, he would have gone down in history as an ogre. But the English crown was triumphant, and therefore, he is an honored man. Such is history, poppet. It’s the deceit I loathe. I don’t set out to kill a man. I do so because he is in my way and won’t get out of it. My reputation is far worse than my deeds. I prefer scaring a man into surrender. Sadly, there are good men out there ready to die for honor. I don’t relish killing them. And unlike Blair Colm, I do not butcher women and children.”

  “As far as the women go, you just marry them,” Red reminded him with a grin.

  “Why waste a lovely lass?” he inquired.

  “Most of the children turn to piracy.”

  “I ransom what children I can.”

  Red looked down, smiling. She wondered what Edward Teach might have become, had he not wound up sailing the high seas. He did have a personal code of ethics.

  “Of course.”

  “And when no one wants them…I do them no harm. And I’ll have you know, they’re still hanging children all nice and legal in some ports for offenses not much worse than stealing bread. I’m not a cruel man at all, when you look at the world around me, and see what is done in the name of law and justice.”

  “I’ve never said that you were a cruel man. You are a fine captain and swordsman, and you’re a wicked shot with a pistol,” she said in a tone of genuine compliment. He grunted his pleasure as she continued. “But you are a performer, with that black beard spewing flame and smoke.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “You are the performer.” He shook his head. “And to think, if what I heard is true, that a little bit like you killed Black Luke.”

  She shrugged. “Have you ever seen a tiny insect bite grow infected? Before you know it, a giant roaring fellow is down and dying of fever. Size is not always the deciding factor in a fight.”

  “Well, I’ll take your treasure. I’m quite fond of a number of the trinkets, and I happen to be decently flush with pieces of eight at the moment.”

  “And what of joining me?” she asked softly.

  “That is another matter.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re out for vengeance. I’m out for profit. And how did you come by this treasure, pray tell?”

  “I came upon a merchant ship that didn’t have a prayer against me.”

  “So you took the ship?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You sank it?” he asked incredulously.

  “No.”

  “Oh?”

  “We parleyed. I now have the captain with me, as my prisoner. He is a Lord Haggerty. Ever hear of the man?” Red asked.

  Blackbeard leaned back, grinning. “Aye. I know the fellow. I’ve met with him in this very tavern.”

  “But he isn’t a pirate.”

  “No. Neither is he military. He sails a merchant ship.”

  “Still, he is no outlaw. What was he doing here?” Red demanded.

  “Business.”

  “Treasure?”

  Blackbeard laughed. “Nay, poppet. He came to sell what makes a life fine. The finest feather pillows. Silk sheets. Porcelain from China. Tea. Coffee. Apples.”

  “And he wasn’t simply killed in the streets here?” Red asked, amazed.

  “I had the opportunity to watch the first time he came. He strode in with his crew, right bold, and when he was challenged, he demanded that he be met man to man. After he bested three of the doughtiest fellows on the isle, I considered challenging him. But, I confess, I was intrigued by his brashness in dropping anchor in the bay, and then stepping foot on land. He was well aware, however, that no quarter would be given to him on the seas if he traveled with merchandise and was caught.”

  “I didn’t give him quarter,” Red snapped.

  “So he took you in through eloquence as well?” Blackbeard teased.

  “He is my prisoner,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  She decided to change the subject. “So, I seek revenge, I admit it. And you seek plunder. If we were to go after Blair Colm together—”

  “Poppet, give it up.”

  Red groaned. “Good God, not you, too.”

  He lifted her chin with his massive forefinger. “I will die on deck. I will die at the point of a sword, or by an enemy volley. That is how it must be. Until then, I will terrorize the sea, I will have a dozen more wives, and I will drink and challenge every man I meet, and mayhap even God. But you…that shouldn’t be your life.”

  “Why not? I would rather die at sea than scrub another floor or be forced to bed some pox-ridden old man or die myself of his venereal disease,” she said, deadly serious.

  “Ah, but don’t you dream of something better?” he queried.

  “My dreams are of corpses on a battlefield, the blood of children slain,” she said.

  He sighed and leaned back. “Sorry, poppet. I’m not suicidal. I won’t join my forces to yours, but I will give you gold and buy you rum, eh?”

  “Cap’n Blackbeard,” she said, determined not to sound disappointed, “I will be honored to lift a glass with you.”

  He shook his head. “Ah, and you speak like a lady, lass.”

  “Maybe I was a lady. Once. Past memory, past caring. God knows, I was so young when the troops came. I remember…”

  “Aye?”

  “My mother,” she said, blushing slightly. “Aye, she was a lady. So softly spoken, so regal…but she is gone, dead and gone, and so is the life I was born to. There is nothing to return to of the
life I lived then. But…I have not lost faith in all humanity. There was Lygia.”

  “Lygia?” he repeated.

  “The daughter of the witch who bought my indenture papers from the officer who decided I was worth more alive than dead,” she said. “She was ugly as sin, but as sweet and kind as her mother was cold and cruel. We’ll drink to her! I imagine she is rich now, with her mother’s passing. May she find happiness at last.”

  “To Lygia. Bless the lass!” he said. “Rich, you say. How ugly was she?”

  Red laughed, lifting her glass high. “Quite. But who knows? With enough darkness and enough rum, the ugliest lass may become the fairest. Especially if she is rich. Or so I’ve heard men say.”

  He looked at her strangely as he drank his rum.

  “Curious…”

  “What?”

  “That it is you who came upon Laird Haggerty.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Ah, poppet. I keep your secrets, but I keep his, as well.”

  “He has secrets?”

  “He has…an agenda.”

  “And?”

  “I just said, I keep a man’s secrets.”

  “Edward…”

  “Don’t you go wheedling me, girl. I have said all I shall upon that topic. Men come to this tavern for amusement. For whores and for drink. And to listen.”

  “Listen to what?”

  “I’ve said all I will say.”

  “But you keep giving me clues!”

  “I shall say no more. Drink up.”

  She tried, but he had made up his mind, and he would say no more. So they drank. She would have her promised gold, and there it would end.

  THERE WERE MANY MEN in the shanty tavern so drunk they wouldn’t have noticed an earthquake. Some lay on tables in the puddles of their own ale. Whores sat atop the laps of others, mindless of the drunkards snoring nearby. Bodices slipped, hands ran up under skirts and ribald shouting and jokes filled the air, along with the stench of old meat, stale tobacco and unwashed bodies.

  Logan turned to Brendan. “Nice place,” he commented dryly.

  “Aye, and obviously you know it well,” Brendan said, his tone equally dry.

  Logan shrugged. “You and the captain don’t look the type to…appreciate such an establishment,” Logan said.