A Pirate of her Own

by Kinley MacGregor

  Morgan Drake took a deep breath to calm his raging temper. With as much patience as he could muster, and that wasn’t much, he placed his hat on her desk and braced his hands on either side of the paper pile that rested in the center.

  Leaning forward, he gave her the glower that had driven grown men to their knees in terror. It was his fail-safe glare that always broke the spirit of whomever he was trying to intimidate.

  Instead of cringing, she stiffened her spine!

  Damn. He needed answers, not a ruffled hen. And damn the imbecile who had allowed a woman to write for his paper.

  She leaned back in her chair as if his temper didn’t concern her in the least. As if she were well accustomed to dealing with irate men.

  “I don’t see why a fictitious piece has you so angry,” she said at last. “It’s just a little story I made up.”

  “Made up,” he repeated in disbelief. “You couldn’t have made it all up. Too much of it smacks of truth.”

  “Truth?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Why, sir, the piece is fictitious. Completely and utterly.”

  Why was she lying about her knowledge?

  This was certainly no random fictitious piece just thrown together by a girl’s whimsy. She had included everything, from his being an orphan impressed in the British navy to his days as a privateer.

  And then to talk about his exploits of freeing the American sailors who were still being victimized by the British navy…

  Nay, there were far too many details of his life that she knew. This woman’s story did all but list his name and address. He couldn’t afford for her to reveal his identity. The British government would like nothing more than to lay hands on him. But right now all they had was an alias.

  And he would do whatever he had to do to guard his secret.

  Suddenly a light flashed behind her empyrean eyes and humor danced in their depths.

  She stood and gave him a bright smile that lit up her entire face. “Oh, my goodness, I know who you are.” Laughing, she winked at him. “Douglas sent you, didn’t he? I should have known from the instant I saw you!”

  Completely baffled, he straightened.

  Was this some trick to throw him off guard?

  Aye, distraction was a clever ruse. One he had used countless times against his opponents. Blindside your foe with inconsequential matters until he loses his focus. Then he’s yours. It was a ploy that worked almost as well as his glare.

  But he wasn’t one to fall for such trickery. No one made a fool of Morgan Drake. Nor did anyone ever get the better of him.

  “Who is Douglas?”

  Moving to stand by his side, she laughed again. “As if you didn’t know,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm and giving a light squeeze.

  Was she daft? Morgan opened his mouth to speak.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know it when I first saw you coming in,” she said before he had a chance to say a word.

  Her smile widening even more, she walked a slow circle around him, talking all the while. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just as I described you. Why, it’s even raining outside. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Douglas had even ordered that.”

  She lifted his hat off her desk, turned it around in her hands, then tapped the brim. “Why, you even had your hat perched precariously on your head, just as Douglas said you would.” She placed his hat on her head as a demonstration.

  Morgan went cold.

  So, she did know him. Somehow this little chit had learned his identity.

  Once more he tried to speak.

  “Why did you agree to this?” the girl asked, removing his hat.

  “You couldn’t have made it all up,” she said, dropping her voice two octaves as she attempted to mimic his earlier words. “Of course I didn’t make it all up. I did do some investigating. Even if I am a woman, I’m also a good reporter when I do get a real story to report. I can’t believe Douglas would have you interrogate me so. It’s probably his way of showing me why my father won’t let me go down to the docks. Imagine my trying to gain information from a man like you!” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why, my father would have my head. You can tell Douglas I got his point, but he could have made it in a much gentler fashion.”

  Her smile enchanting, she brushed a piece of lint from his hat. “Oh, he’s a clever one to be sure! It’ll take some doing to top this. But I’m definitely up to the challenge.”

  As she continued her babbling, a strange odor caught him by surprise. It seemed to be encircling him.

  Turpentine?

  Confusion dampened his temper while he glanced about for the source. It had to be turpentine, yet he couldn’t imagine where it came from.

  Then he realized its source.

  It was her.

  No, his logic argued. It couldn’t be. He leaned forward a tad and took a discreet sniff as she passed once more before him.

  It was definitely turpentine and she was wearing it like French perfume!

  Cocking a brow, he took a second look at the strange woman who continued to talk about this man Douglas and some sort of ongoing dare they had between them.

  Serenity James was an odd one, to be sure. Never before had he known a woman who would willingly walk about drenched in such a pungent-smelling concoction. Yet this one seemed completely oblivious to it.

  Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a sleek, severe knot at the nape of her neck, not the alluring soft ringlets preferred by most women. And rather than wear a soft color that might complement her pale features, she wore a modest gown of solid black with only a ruffled white neckerchief to break the somber tone.

  If not for the ruby and diamond brooch that clasped the neckerchief just between her breasts, he might have thought her in mourning.

  “Poor Douglas, no wonder he’d protested being sent to St. Simon’s Island today to interview that poor man whose house was burned down by his angry wife. I’m sure he wanted to be here to see my face when you walked in! Oh, but I’m ever so glad he wasn’t here. No doubt, he would have laughed at me from now until kingdom come.”

  As his gaze wandered over the length of her, the most amazing thing happened. He began to fancy her dressed in a blue ball gown, her hair dressed down and soft.

  Aye, behind those spectacles she had eyes the color of the brightest sea. Sensuous lips that begged for kisses, and pale, creamy skin that…

  Morgan blinked.

  Was he mad?

  Naw, just bloomin’ horny, Cap’n.

  He tensed as Barney’s voice drifted through his mind. The thought of that old randy barnacle was enough to snap his attention back to the matter at hand.

  “Miss James, I have no—”

  “Please,” she said, cutting him off and linking her arm in his before leading him toward the door. “I deeply appreciate what you’re trying to do. But today really isn’t a good day for an adventure. I have piles of articles to review and my sister should be by any minute now to fetch me home where I have a party to supervise. Why don’t you thank Doug—”

  She stopped dead in her tracks and stared wide-eyed at the large glass window at the front of the shop.

  Following her line of vision, Morgan found himself face-to-face with two members of his crew. Barney and Kit were staring in at them.

  Would today’s aggravations never cease?

  They were supposed to wait for him down at the docks, not follow him about like two lapdogs with nothing better to do than yap at his heels.

  The two of them stood with their legs braced far apart as if standing on deck in the middle of a typhoon, and they leaned against the glass, their hands cupped to shield their sight from the outside glare. All he needed now was for Barney to grin and wave at him like some half-wit.

  He growled low in his throat. May the rains soak their rotten hides!

  Well, he’d deal with them later. First he had a mystery to solve—how this woman had learned who he was and whom she had told so far. />
  And most important, how far would he have to go to make sure that their secret went no further.

  He started to return to his interrogation when all of a sudden a brown and gold coach pulled up in front of the shop.

  Barney and Kit glanced around as a footman dressed in green livery jumped off the top of the coach. He opened the coach’s door.

  A huge black umbrella was shoved out into the rain and opened, then tilted upwards to reveal an elderly woman whose dress would rival Serenity’s for plain ugliness. She scowled at Barney and Kit before holding the umbrella over the coach’s open door. A young, attractive blond woman emerged from the coach an instant before the footman closed it.

  With a frown on her pale, angelic face, the young woman cast furtive glances at Kit and Barney as she and her chaperone made their way into the shop.

  “Goodness, Sister,” the blond woman breathed, her attention still focused on the two sea dogs behind her who had returned to peeking inside. “What strange admirers have you gathered now?”

  “Good day, Honor, Mrs. O’Grady,” Serenity said in greeting. “He’s a friend of Douglas’s who just came by for a birthday surprise. But as I’ve already explained to this gentleman, I haven’t the time.”

  “Ach now, lass, what were you thinking by letting him in here? You should know better than to be letting a man such as this one into the shop while you’re here alone,” Mrs. O’Grady warned in a thick Irish accent. Era O’Grady was the self-crowned matron of propriety. Her gossiping tongue had sealed the fate of many a young woman, and Serenity wasn’t happy at having been caught by her.

  Still, Mrs. O’Grady was loyal to Honor, whom she planned on grooming to take her place of town gossip should anything ever happen to her. With a few heartfelt apologies, Serenity should be able to allay any of Mrs. O’Grady’s concerns.

  Besides, Serenity was a plain woman who would never catch the fancy of a man such as this. Everyone in town knew that.

  Even Mrs. O’Grady herself had said such.

  Mrs. O’Grady raked her gaze over the stranger, and if Serenity didn’t know better, she’d swear the old woman’s eyes gleamed with appreciation.

  “I’ve seen men like him talk a woman out of her virtue countless times,” Mrs. O’Grady warned. “Be too late for you when it’s done. Your father will have your head over this. Just see if he doesn’t.”

  “You’re quite right, Mrs. O’Grady,” Serenity agreed. “Men are the blight of the world and hazardous to all women.”

  Morgan lifted his brow at her words. Even though she spoke with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, he didn’t like being called the blight of the world.

  “I was just escorting him to the door when you arrived.” Serenity shoved his hat into his hands and eyed the matron, who was scowling at the two of them. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir, and I’m grateful for your sense of humor, but I must be going.”

  With an expediency that astounded him, he found himself back outside in the drizzling rain, standing next to his two men. A moment later he watched while Serenity and her sister were whisked away by the speeding brown coach.

  “Well, Cap’n?” Barney asked as rain dripped off of his brown-colored tricorn hat and into his face. “Did you find out about that there paper story?”

  Dumbfounded, Morgan could only stare after the departing coach. Never in his life had he been dismissed so easily. He found it downright…humbling.

  Infuriating!

  How dare she dismiss him as if he were nothing but a nuisance! Women had fainted at his mere presence. Fought one another for just a smile from his lips.

  By God, kings had begged for an audience with him. A sultan had even offered him his daughter’s hand. And this little chit had rushed him out into the pouring rain without so much as a by-your-leave.

  Remembering her words about his hat and its precarious perch, he jerked it down low on his head. “All right, Miss Serenity James,” he said as her coach disappeared from his sight. “When next we meet it’ll take more than your sister and a scowling Irish biddy to protect you.”

  Chapter 2

  “Beg pardon, Cap’n?” Barney asked with a serious frown. “What scowling Irish biddy do you mean?”

  Angry at Serenity, her chaperone, himself, and the reminder that his men had disobeyed a direct order, Morgan glowered at Barney. “What in Triton’s hell are the two of you doing here?”

  Kit turned a bright shade of red and Barney drew himself up to the full five feet six inches of his height.

  “Why, we’ve come to help you, Cap’n,” Barney said with a wide smile that showed off the gap between his two front teeth. “Thought you might need a good pirate sword to silence the tongue of that thieving dog what went and wrote about you in his story.”

  Growling low in his throat, Morgan knew all too well that nothing short of bloodshed would intimidate Barney. “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re not pirates?”

  “Right,” Barney said with a conspiratorial wink. “I know we’re not pirates.”

  Morgan wanted to throw up his hands in defeat. With Barney practically bragging they were pirates, it was only a matter of time before someone believed the old sea dog and hung the lot of them.

  If you had any brains about you at all, you’d throw the old barnacle and his bird off the ship at next sail.

  But no matter how angry Barney made him, Morgan could never do that. Nay, he owed the old man much more than could ever be repaid.

  If not for Barney, he would never have survived his years of imprisonment in the British navy. And though Barney’s grip on reality was sometimes shaky, the old man had a generous heart.

  “So Cap’n, do we drop that there blooming writer into Davy’s Locker?” Barney asked.

  “Nay,” Morgan said quietly, even though he did rather enjoy the idea of Miss James walking the plank. Perhaps a mouthful of seawater would quiet the wench. “It turns out that the he in this case is a she. And I shall deal with her in my own way.”

  Thunder clapped above their heads and the slow drizzle turned to a hard rain. Morgan scowled up at the sky, then at the pair before him. “Dammit, Kit, take Barney back to the ship and see to it that he’s dried out before he catches his death.”

  “Bah,” Barney snorted. “What’s a little water to a pirate?”

  “A bout of pneumonia if he’s not careful,” Morgan warned.

  Lifting his tricorn, Barney curled his lip and ran his hand through what little gray hair remained. “You treat me like I’m nothing but an old woman.”

  “Well, maybe if you didn’t follow me about like a mother hen I might not—”

  “All right, Cap’n,” Barney interrupted, setting his hat back into place. “You just go on about your business and me and Kit will see to it that the Revenge is ready to sail when you are.”

  Now, why did he have a hard time believing that?

  Because it would be the first time in your life that you ever won an argument with Lord Thick and Knotty Pate. Resigning himself to the inevitable, as well as to the fact that he might not get a chance to finish a single sentence for the rest of the day, Morgan left them there while he retrieved his horse from the nearby hitching post.

  He pulled himself up into his saddle and directed a meaningful gaze to Kit. “Take him home.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain Drake.”

  With one last look at the incorrigible pair, he set his heels into the horse’s flanks and took off after Miss James’s coach.

  Hours later, dressed in her best gown, and standing in the middle of her father’s ballroom, Serenity forced herself to smile.

  The open room was surrounded by Grecian columns wrapped with pink satin and ivy. A thousand beeswax candles flicked from the eight crystal and gold chandeliers and torchères positioned strategically around the room. The orchestra balcony overhung the right corner, and dancers twirled about while the other guests stood in clusters talking about politics, recipes, and the latest scandals.


  Since the party began, Serenity had been pulled aside countless times by matrons wanting to know if she’d heard from her runaway sister, Chastity, and by kinder souls who wished her a happy birthday.

  But it was terribly difficult to focus on her birthday party guests while her mind kept drifting back to her encounter with her mysterious man.

  It wasn’t every day that one of her characters manifested himself in her office. Especially a character so handsome.

  If only she had learned his name.

  If only she could quit thinking about him!

  There were over two hundred guests in attendance, not the least of whom were the parson’s family and hopping-hands Charlie Simms, who kept trying to drag her out into the gardens.

  People drifted around her as they went about their regular lives, while she had experienced something miraculous today. Something she knew she would never forget.

  Enough, Serenity! Pay attention to the dancers. Look at the matrons chaperoning their young charges.

  Concentrate on poor Parson Jacobs!

  The parson had already had to repeat himself three times while he talked to her. Even now she wasn’t really sure what he was talking about. Something to do with Jonah. Or was it Job?

  Oh bother!

  Nodding at the parson and murmuring what she hoped was an appropriate response to fill the few lulls in his conversation, she let her gaze roam about the room in search of Douglas. Maybe he could answer all her questions about her mysterious visitor.

  A flash to her right caught her attention. Turning her head, she looked up just in time to see her sister rush toward her with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.

  “Please excuse us, Parson Jacobs,” Honor said breathlessly an instant before she seized Serenity’s arm and dragged her rather rudely toward the open French doors.

  Serenity frowned. “Whatever is the matter—”

  “He’s here!”

  “Mr. McCarthy?”

  “Nay, not my beau, silly. Yours!”

  Completely confounded, Serenity stared at Honor as if she’d gone daft. What was she talking about?

  Hopping-hands Charlie?