A Pirate of her Own

by Kinley MacGregor

  “To take a long, cold bath, then get drunk.”

  Morgan threw back another shot of rum. His stomach burned, but not nearly as much as his loins. At this rate, he was sure he was going to die from the pain.

  I could have had her!

  She’d been his for the taking. He had given her release, and given himself hell.

  Well, it’s what you deserve.

  It was, he knew that. He had no right to take from her what he had. After this night, she’d never be the same. Now she knew the rewards of desire, knew what pleasures her body could achieve.

  He growled at himself. He never should have sought her out. Never touched her the way he had.

  In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to touch her. His intentions had been honorable enough.

  Well, not completely honorable. He had intended to kiss her. To hold her.

  Ah, face it, Drake, you’d meant to seduce her! Who do you think you’re lying to? You know the truth.

  He cursed and cupped his head in his hands.

  “Captain?”

  Morgan tensed at Barney’s voice. Straightening up, he glanced to where Barney stood in the entrance of the galley. “What is it, Mr. Pitkern?”

  “Mr. Pitkern, is it?” said the quartermaster with a hint of humor in his voice as he entered the room. “You must be suffering much to be so formal when it’s just the two of us.”

  “Two? You mean you’re out and about without Pesty?”

  Barney joined him at the table. “Well, I was thinking of having a bit of rum, and she don’t like it much when I drink.”

  “She’s a true woman then.”

  Barney plopped his mug down on the table and poured himself a liberal amount of drink. “In some ways she’s a greater nag than my sweet Bertha.”

  Morgan frowned at the mention of Barney’s wife. The old man seldom spoke of her. “Is that what has you up?”

  Barney heaved a weary sigh, lifted the mug from the table, and took a hearty swallow.

  “Today be her birthday,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “I was just trying to think about what she’d want for a gift, if she were still here.” Barney sat down across from him and smiled sadly. “She so loved lilies. We had a yard full of them. I was just thinking that we spent the first month of our marriage planting those lilies in her garden. It was too early in the year, I thought, but she proved me wrong.” He gave another sad laugh. “Funny, she often proved me wrong. Even when I was right!”

  Morgan smiled, thinking about Serenity and her knack for doing the same to him. “Do you ever miss living on land?”

  Barney cleared his throat and shook his head. “Never. ’Tis Bertha I miss.”

  They sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts. Each longing for something they couldn’t have. Aching for something that was useless to want.

  Barney poured himself another mug full of rum. He finally broke the silence. “Funny how love can make you happy no matter where you live. I could have had nothing more than a tin shack and dirt to eat when I had Bertha, and life would have been as good as if I lived in a palace.”

  Morgan contemplated his words.

  For some reason, they made him think of his mother. He could barely remember her most of the time, but the one memory he carried of her most clearly was an image of her with his father. They’d been laughing together as she played his father’s favorite song on the pianoforte. His father had stood just behind her, his hand lovingly placed on her shoulder. They had looked so happy that day that Morgan had stared at them until they realized he was in the room.

  It was an image he could never forget.

  Nor could he forget the terrible sadness his father had felt at her death. The years he had heard his father crying alone in his room when he thought no one could hear him. The lock of black hair his father kept concealed in his fob watch.

  Even now, he could hear his father telling him that losing his wealth and titles had been nothing compared to losing his precious Beatrice. Money could be regained, but people were irreplaceable.

  Morgan sighed as he realized he would never know such love. He would live out his life alone with no one to comfort him. No one to care what happened to him.

  And in that moment, he made a startling discovery about himself—deep down in a part of his heart that he had long ago shut away, he wanted to know what it felt like to want to live and die for one person.

  What would it be like to hear a woman whisper she loved him, whisper that she’d never want another man?

  He ached for it.

  And to his deepest mortification, he realized he wanted to hear it from Serenity.

  “What the devil?”

  “Morgan?” Barney asked, his brow raised. “What be the matter. You look as if you’re about to meet your maker.”

  “It’s nothing. I just had a bad thought.” A terrible thought, really.

  Why, he could barely stand being in a room with her without wanting to strangle her.

  They were as ill suited as any two people could possibly be. He was a realist, she a romantic dreamer. He believed women should mind their place and she thought women should take their place wherever they wanted to.

  Just imagine what she’d teach their children! Mutiny. Sheer mutiny. He’d have daughters running around wanting to be sailors and dressed in pants like hooligans.

  Of course, Serenity looked awfully good in pants, his mind reminded him. She felt even better in pants.

  That thought brought another painful ache to his groin, and he lowered his head to his hands and growled low in his throat.

  Barney gave a raspy laugh. “You’ve got flaming britches, don’t you, boy?”

  He looked up with a puzzled frown. “Flaming what?”

  “Britches.” A wide smile split his face. “That little girl done gone and made you as horny as a herd of rhinoceroses.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, not wanting to hear the truth spoken aloud. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Barney gave him a knowing grin. “Sure you do. I’ve seen the way you look at her like a babe eyeing a peppermint stick. The way your gaze lingers on her, how close you stand when she’s next to you. I may be old, but I’m not blind.”

  Why did he bother to deny it?

  Yet he’d been doing it for so long, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I’ve just been too long without a woman,” he said, half to convince Barney and half to convince himself. “You know what that’s like. I’d be aching after anything in skirts at this point.”

  By the look in his eye, he could tell Barney didn’t believe a word of it.

  Aloud Barney said, “Well, Cap’n, you can always take matters into your own hands.” He gave a sideways glance down at his own pants. “If you know what I mean.”

  Morgan cleared his throat. The thought had occurred to him more than once, but he knew it wouldn’t satisfy him. Not in the least. “I’d rather she take matters into her hands.”

  Barney’s laughter rang in his ears. “Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Santa Maria. I’m sure you can find a willing woman to ease your pain.”

  With that said, Barney got up and took his leave.

  Morgan sat quietly, thinking over Barney’s words. There were lots of attractive women on Santa Maria. Some of whom he knew intimately. But even as he thought of them, imagined them writhing beneath him, he felt nothing.

  Until he thought of Serenity.

  Instantly he burned.

  This was turning out to be the longest voyage of his life!

  Serenity stood before the open windows, watching the dark sea swirl behind the ship. Moonlight reflected off the waves, giving them a mysterious aura of beauty. Still, she couldn’t really focus on them. Instead, her thoughts were held captive by what she’d experienced.

  She didn’t know what Morgan had done to her, it was sorcery of some kind. Of that she was certain.

  No wonder it was forbidden for young ladies to be a
lone with men. Good gracious, who would have thought such pleasure could be found?

  Guilty and ashamed, she wished she had never gone topside with Morgan.

  What must he think of her now? Surely no decent woman would have allowed him to take such liberty.

  Yet her body tingled from the memory of his touch, and she felt heat sting her cheeks.

  What was she going to do?

  Avoid him!

  Yes, that was all she could do. Lock herself in this cabin and make sure that she never went near him again. Then at least she wouldn’t have to face him and have him remember her wild abandon, her shameless murmurs.

  Under no circumstances would she open the door. Not even if the ship caught on fire and sank!

  Days passed slowly as Morgan tried his best to see Serenity again, but each time he ventured near his cabin, he was met by solid resistance.

  And a locked door.

  Alocked door he was beginning to despise with a vengeance.

  If not seeing her wasn’t bad enough, he’d been forced to borrow clean clothes from his men, since she refused to even allow him entry long enough for that.

  Only Kit and Court were allowed to see her.

  “Court!” he called, spying the boy making his way across the deck with a tray of food.

  The boy stopped and turned to face him. “Aye, Cap’n?”

  “Are you taking that to Miss James?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Then please see to it that she receives this note.” Morgan pulled the sealed letter out of his pocket and handed it over to him.

  What the hell, it was worth a try. Heaven knew, it’d worked for Jake on more than one occasion.

  Besides, she couldn’t stay locked up forever.

  Just what was she doing in there anyway? Making more curtains? He shuddered at the thought.

  Serenity recognized the timid knock. “Is that you, Court?” she called just to verify what she already knew.

  “Aye, mum.”

  She opened the door and met Court’s beaming smile. She’d learned much about him these last few days, including the fact that his father was much like her own—loud, but semi-indulgent.

  Cookie wasn’t the beast Morgan portrayed him to be. He was a good man who just got tired of being stuck below deck all day while everyone else got to see the daylight. It was his envy that drove him to be gruff with the others. That and the fact that he was a shy man who liked to be left alone.

  But not Court. He loved people and he loved to talk as much as Serenity. She looked forward to his visits.

  “How have you been?” she asked as Court came into the cabin and set her platter on the table. “Is your burn still bothering you?”

  “Just fine, mum, thank you for asking. Your idea about onion juice worked just fine, it did. Why, the blister be almost gone.” He held his hand out to show her where he had accidentally touched a hot pan.

  Serenity took his hand in her own and traced the spot where only a red place marked what had been a bad burn just days before. “I’m so glad Dr. Williams was right. He’s said such strange things in his column that I was never certain if they were right or wrong. I guess now we know.”

  Court smiled. “Pa said it was a foolish thing you suggested, until he saw the results. He wants to know if you have any cures for his toothache. It’s been givin’ ’im a hard time to be sure. Why, he even yelled at the captain yestereve.”

  Her eyes widened. That was the one person Cookie never confronted. “He did not!”

  “Aye, mum, ’e did. Thought the captain would have his head, I did.”

  She smiled at the image. She almost wished she’d been there to see Morgan get his pride nipped. But she had given up on that quest. At least it was nice to know someone was taking her place.

  “Your father wouldn’t happen to have any small burnet on board, would he?”

  Court’s brow furrowed. “Never heard of it me-self, so like as not we don’t.”

  “What about chamomile?” she asked as she lifted the lid off the platter and set her food on the table. “Do you have any of that?”

  “Barney takes it in his tea ever’ now and a’gin. I’m sure he might be in the mood for some sharing.”

  “Oh good.” Serenity handed him the platter and lid back. “All you need do is make an oil of the flowers and place about three drops on the tooth. That should hold him until he gets to a dentist.”

  “You’re a saint, mum. A blessed saint.”

  She reached out and brushed the lock of hair from out of his eyes. “I’m nothing of the kind.”

  His smile lost some of its luster as he looked at her. “You remind me of me own mum. Pa thinks so, too. Said she was a real lady like you, not one of those types what meets us on land wanting some money for her favors. She had genteel ways.”

  Her throat tightened at the sadness that burned in his eyes. “You must miss her a lot.”

  “Aye,” he answered, his voice thick.

  “I miss my mother, too. She died when I was just a girl, but some days it feels like it was just yesterday.”

  Court sniffed. “I suppose I’d best be going, afore we both end up in tears.”

  He moved to the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot, mum. The captain sent this note for you.”

  He took a piece of sealed parchment from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Oil of chamomile flowers. I’ll tell me pa,” he said before turning around and opening the door.

  Serenity barely heard the last of his words as he made his way out of the cabin. Instead, her attention was on the quick, clean strokes of Morgan’s writing. It amazed her that a pirate would be literate. Especially one sold so young to the sea.

  She broke the seal.

  I feel like a weed in the midst of Winter. ’Tis the sunshine of your smile that will bring back the Spring of my days. We arrive in four days. I hope you will grace me again with your presence.

  Yours,

  Morgan

  She traced the flowing letters with the tip of her finger and couldn’t suppress a smile. A poetic pirate no less. Who would have thought?

  Stay away from him! her mind warned.

  She knew she should listen. Still, she saw the flowing script and felt the thrill of excitement run thick through her veins.

  What was it about such a tiny note that made her breathless?

  She crumpled the note and made to toss it out the open window.

  Her arm drawn back, she watched the sea and faltered.

  I feel like a weed in the midst of Winter. ’Tis the sunshine of your smile that will bring back the Spring of my days.

  No one had ever written such to her before. Never. It was the type of note most women waited a lifetime to receive.

  How could she toss it away?

  And before she could stop herself, she opened her hand and did her best to straighten out the wrinkles.

  After all, what would it hurt for her to keep it?

  Chapter 12

  Two days went by as Morgan waited for some sort of acknowledgment of his note.

  None came.

  He’d pushed her too far. No doubt the entire incident had embarrassed and shamed her. He should have never touched her—he knew that. If only he could apologize. Make some sort of restitution.

  Sighing in frustration, he headed to the galley for a quick bite to eat to tide him over until dinner. Maybe a good run-in with Cookie would distract him from his guilt over Serenity.

  As he approached the galley, he could hear Court speaking, then the gruff rumble of Cookie. At first he couldn’t make out the words, but as he drew nearer, something odd happened. Something that defied belief.

  “Now, tell me again about this rosemary.”

  Frowning, Morgan stopped just outside the door, stunned immobile. Was that Cookie’s voice?

  Surely, it couldn’t be. He’d sounded almost…well…friendly.

  “The doctor said that if you add a sprig to wine it’ll help with
digestion and cure a headache.” Serenity’s voice was like a symphony to his ears and it brought a warm rush to his blood. “What I’ve found is that it helps your head best when steeped in boiling water.”

  Cookie snorted. “Who would have ever thought?”

  “Court?” Serenity asked with a tender note in her voice. “Would you please bring me the milk?”

  “Aye, mum.”

  Morgan walked forward, keeping himself to the shadows so that he could spy on them.

  Sure enough, Serenity stood before the stove, stirring something inside a large iron kettle while Cookie leaned over the table, rolling out dough. She wore the pink and white striped dress, her hair coiled neatly around her head. There was a quiet grace to her as she tapped the spoon against the side of the pot and wiped her hands on the white apron pinned to her skirt.

  A rich, sweet aroma filled the air, making his stomach rumble.

  Court handed her the milk. “Would you be needing the potatoes now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Her smile brought a surge of pleasure to Morgan’s chest, but still he was too stunned to know what to do. Never before had Cookie tolerated anyone other than Court in his galley. Never mind someone to actually help him cook in the galley.

  “Now, Mr. Rodale,” Serenity said, and it took Morgan a few seconds to realize that must be Cookie’s real name. She added the potatoes and milk to the pot, moving back slightly as some of the boiling water splashed out. “You never finished telling me your story.”

  Cookie chuckled as he cut biscuits out of the dough and placed them on a pan. “That’s right, where was I?”

  “There was a young pirate in a tavern,” Serenity supplied for him as she returned to stirring her pot.

  “Aye,” Cookie said with a laugh as he balled the dough up again and began kneading and flouring it. “A young lad of about twenty or so had just sat down and got his mug of ale when this old pirate comes hobbling up with a peg leg, a hook for his right hand, and a patch over one eye.”

  He paused as he picked up the rolling pin, coated it with flour, and once more rolled the dough out across the floured table top. “This young fellow looks him up and down like a young fellow would and is impressed by what he sees. ‘How’d you lose your leg, old man?’ the boy asks. The old pirate snorts at his impertinence. ‘I got this peg leg the day me crew and I attacked the largest port in Portugal. We sailed in and fought like the devil hisself and while we was fighting, the captain of the flagship jumped onto me ship and I fought him too. But while we was fighting me foot got coiled in some rope and as I was trying to get free, he swung his sword and lopped off me leg at the knee. So I grabbed a plank from the railing, stuck it in me bloody stump, and that’s how I got me peg leg.’”