Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  On Bookbub

  On Facebook

  On Twitter

  On Instagram

  Owned by the Pirate

  by Sue Lyndon and Celeste Jones

  Chapter 1

  Mallory House

  New Orleans

  Another sweltering hot morning in New Orleans. Even after spending the entire nineteen years of her life in this bustling city, Mademoiselle Elizabeth “Lizzy” d’Campe was not used to the abysmal heat. The humidity cloyed at her, pressing in from all sides. Making her feel like a prisoner.

  She sat in her bedroom sipping chicory laced coffee. It seemed counterintuitive to consume a piping hot beverage on an equally hot day, but she needed the boost. Holding the delicate cup in both hands, she inhaled the rich aroma and allowed herself to be transported back to happier times.

  “Papa!” He swung her up in his arms and around in circles, her skirts billowing about her legs. It was pure joy to be with her father, the man who always made everything better, his strong arms holding her, a broad smile on his handsome face.

  He stopped spinning and gazed down at her. “Ah, Lizzy girl, mon petit chou, you’re even prettier than when I left. And you must be two inches taller, too.” His loving gaze swept over her and she glowed under his praise.

  “Oh, Papa, I’m so glad you’re home. Tell me all about your trip. I missed you so much.” He hugged her tight and she breathed deeply of his scent...chicory coffee.

  “I missed you too.” He cupped the side of her face with his palm. “You’re the only reason I came back.”

  Lizzy touched her cheek, remembering the warmth of her father’s touch.

  Oh Papa. Why did you have to leave me?

  Blinking back tears, she finished her drink and rang for another.

  A fresh tray arrived bearing more coffee, croissants and jam, and the morning paper. With a growing sense of foreboding, she flipped it to read the headlines.

  Mademoiselle Elizabeth d’Campe to Wed Mr. John Arlott, Shipping Heir, in the Wedding of the Century

  Large crowds expected to line the streets to catch a glimpse of the bride who will be wearing a necklace featuring the Pink Spanish Jewel which was left to her by her late father, Monsieur Francis d’Campe, famed explorer and adventurer. Legend has it that the large pink diamond was found by Monsieur d’Campe on his final expedition, the one which led to his death.

  Lizzy put the paper down and looked away, her eyes falling on the notorious item of jewelry. Coveted by many, the sight of it made her sick. Her father had given his life for it.

  And now, in theory, she was expected to do the same. Her sole value in life was as the rightful owner of the jewel. Her father had at least made sure of that with layer upon layer of legal documents. It had been locked away in a vault—far from her mother’s greedy fingers—until yesterday, when she had turned nineteen, the magical age which her father had stipulated for her to take full ownership of the items he’d left for her.

  Which made her the most desirable single young lady in all of New Orleans. And though she was the owner of the valuable jewel, her mother remained her guardian and had arranged for her to marry Mr. John Arlott, heir to the Arlott shipping fortune.

  A shudder ran through Lizzy as she pictured the stout man’s leering gaze. His hands were cold whenever he touched her, even though he usually appeared to be sweating. He also seemed to always be fighting off a case of the sniffles and constantly dabbed at his red, dripping nose with a well-used kerchief.

  If it were only a matter of appearances, Lizzy might be able to forgive Mr. Arlott’s physical dispositions, but he also lacked for gentlemanly behavior and had treated her with outright rudeness on several occasions, belittling her opinions and insinuating that because she lacked an appendage between her legs, she must also be lacking in brains. The nerve! Furthermore, he had a habit of bellowing insults at his servants in an abusive manner that reminded Lizzy of her mother’s often harsh behavior.

  Oui, it was safe to say Lizzy held no affection for Mr. John Arlott. Her stomach knotted at the prospect of marrying him and a wave of sickness overcame her. She took several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself and stared out the window. The steeple of St. Louis Cathedral loomed in the distance overtop the houses and businesses lining the busy streets. She was expected at the church in less than three hours and she knew her mother would arrive in her bedroom soon to supervise Lizzy’s wedding preparations.

  She took another sip of the chicory laced coffee and closed her eyes, wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Far, far away.

  “Mercy! It’s hot as Hades itself.”

  Lizzy stiffened but did not turn toward the speaker. Her mother’s voice was seared into her brain and often plagued her nightmares. She could distinguish it in a crowd. She had no need to turn.

  Her mother strode toward her, pushed two maids aside and loomed directly in front of her daughter. “You’re a sweaty mess, Lizzy.”

  “I thought d’Campes did not sweat. Is that not what you have always told me, Mother?” Lizzy glanced toward the open window at a blue bird sitting on the sill, preening.

  Madame d’Campe pinched Lizzy’s arm, as she had done a hundred times before. It was her preferred method of control. Lizzy yearned for the day when her forearm remained unbruised. “Don’t sass me!” her mother hissed, the noise sending the bird to flight.

  Lizzy watched it soar skyward and wished she could go along, off into the clear blue limitless heavens.

  “Oh, just look at you.” Madame d’Campe circled her daughter like a wolf after a rabbit. She pinched one of the servants she’d pushed away moments before. “What’s wrong with you? Sponge her off. She can’t go to her wedding covered in sweat like a racehorse.”

  “Yes, Madame,” the maid replied, scurrying to resume the task she’d been performing before the intrusion of her volatile mistress.

  The other maid dabbed powder on Lizzy’s exposed flesh as she stood in her crinolines and cringed. She hated the way her mother treated her, but even more, her mother’s treatment of the servants knotted her stomach. In theory, the servants could leave the employ of the d’Campe family and seek jobs elsewhere, but in reality, it would not happen, as Madame d’Campe would never, ever, provide them with the good reference needed to seek gainful employment in another home. In fact, Lizzy’s mother would likely do worse than provide them with a less than adequate reference.

  Snippets of a long-buried memory resurfaced in Lizzy’s mind as she recalled a young maid leaving Mallory House several years ago, when Lizzy was only ten years of age herself. Madame d’Campe, enraged by the servant’s abrupt departure, had accused the poor girl of thievery. Lizzy’s heart clenched as she glanced at the two maids who were helping her get ready. They would never be free.

  Her eyes strayed to the window once again. Noises outside drew her closer to investigate. On the street outside her home, the sidewalks were crowded with people out in the bright morning sun. Women carried parasols for a bit of shade and others gathered under the trees that lined the street.

  Her heart raced. Her chest tightened.

  They were waiting for her.

  She groaned and turned away.

  Her mother peered down from an adjoining window.

  “Just as I expected.” She clasped her hands together in glee. “They are here to see you in your gown and your necklace, the most beautiful bride they will ever see in the finest dress money can buy. Imported from Paris, no less.” Her mother smiled triumphantly. “And you have me to thank for it. Finally, all the effort I have put in to making you a proper young lady has paid off, precisely as I had planned.”

  And no one interfered with Madame d’Campe’s plans.

  The carriage moved through the cheering crowds as though Lizzy were a queen en route to her coronation. Too bad she felt like she was heading for the guillotine.

  But, she was a d’Campe. She waved to the crowds, a smile plastered across her face, the façade of serenit
y and dignity firmly in place, if only to honor the memory of her beloved father.

  “Oh, there are even more people than I expected,” her mother crowed from the seat opposite her. “Did you see the newspaper this morning? They called it the wedding of the century.”

  No doubt her mother had slipped a bit of cash to someone at the paper for that. Spiderlike, her web reached all corners of the city. Currently, Lizzy was in the very center of it.

  “Sit up straight, Lizzy. People want to see the necklace.”

  The damned necklace felt like a noose around her throat. When her mother had picked it up off its resting place an hour earlier as Lizzy was getting dressed, it was as though Madame d’Campe carried the holy grail in her hands. The pope himself could not have bestowed a grander blessing than her mother fastening the necklace around her throat. Her fingers had lingered a bit too long, like she really didn’t want to let Lizzy wear it. Because, she didn’t. Madame d’Campe had made it perfectly clear, on countless occasions, that the jewel would be wasted on Lizzy and the late Monsieur d’Campe had made a grave error by not leaving the necklace to Lizzy’s mother in his will.

  “For God’s sake, Lizzy, do not let anything happen to that necklace,” her mother said, yet again, as the carriage arrived at St. Louis Cathedral.

  “Oh, do not worry, Mother,” Lizzy replied, still waving at the gathered crowd, her face aching under the strain of her forced smile. “I’ll take good care of it.” Her heart raced suddenly and Lizzy hoped her mother didn’t notice anything amiss about her demeanor. The next few minutes would determine the remainder of her life. She sent up a desperate prayer.

  Please don’t let this wedding happen. Please, I want to be free.

  She thought of the little blue bird that had been perched on her windowsill earlier this morning, as a sense of longing reverberated down to her bones.

  I want to fly away.

  Chapter 2

  If the air in her bedroom had been hot, the stagnant air inside the church was even worse. Lizzy felt as if she would pass out from the heat that was steadily enveloping her. She drew in a deep breath as she stood in a small room near the sanctuary.

  Droplets of sweat coursed down between her breasts, falling into the corset her mother had ordered a maid to fasten a bit too tight. A sense of panic began to swell in Lizzy as she worried she might indeed fall over and lose consciousness. What would her mother say if that happened? Likely, Madame d’Campe would accuse her of theatrics and bringing shame upon their family name. She also suspected her mother wasn’t above dragging her down the aisle, fully awake or not, to marry the awful Mr. John Arlott.

  When the smooth sounds of the string quartet playing Canon in D echoed from the nearby sanctuary, the door was flung open and an anxious looking Monsieur Jean-Pierre Bisset, Lizzy’s uncle on her mother’s side, stared at her, obviously waiting for her to accept his offered arm and walk down the aisle to her doom.

  She hesitated and the look of worry on her uncle’s face deepened, making Lizzy think he was probably eager for the conclusion of this ceremony. Before leaving to take her seat in the front of the grand cathedral, Madame d’Campe had given her younger brother a good scolding to ensure they walked down the aisle at the proper speed. Slowly but not too slowly, you silly twit, the woman had barked, as she personally demonstrated the exact speed she believed perfect for the occasion.

  With a sigh, Lizzy moved forward and accepted her uncle’s escort. Her stomach flipped when she saw the packed sanctuary. There was even a row of guests standing in the back, behind the crowded pews. And there, at the front of the church near the altar, stood Mr. John Arlott, one of the richest men in New Orleans, though Lizzy knew very well her mother wished to join their families because Mr. Arlott senior was a distant cousin of the late King George. Always keen to climb whatever social ladder she could perch her feet upon, Madame d’Campe had pushed for a short engagement between Lizzy and the pudgy, leering heir to the Arlott shipping fortune, thinking herself a saint for having secured a wealthy, connected husband for her daughter.

  Well, Madame d’Campe was no saint and it took all of Lizzy’s willpower to keep putting one foot in front of the other as she marched, slowly, but not too slowly, down the aisle. Her intended’s dark eyes gleamed with excitement and she saw him sniffle and pull a kerchief from his pocket. He blew into it, not even bothering to turn around, and then shoved the soiled cloth into his pocket.

  Oh, God in heaven, help me.

  Her gaze swept around the sanctuary, as if she might spot a hero amongst the guests, someone to rush forward and carry her out of the church before she could speak her vows.

  Too soon, she reached the front of the church. Her face heated, and it took her a few seconds to realize she’d grown hotter from her building anger than from the stifling heat in the church. She imagined that even in spite of her mother’s orders for the maids to clean her up adequately, she probably still looked like a sweating racehorse to Madame d’Campe. This thought brought a hint of a smile to her face, but Lizzy quickly straightened and pressed her lips together, not wishing for Mr. Arlott to believe she was happy about their marriage.

  Her uncle, still looking nervous as ever, nodded at her and patted her arm, then released her and took a seat next to Madame d’Campe. Though Lizzy had never been close to her uncle, she mourned the loss of his company as she faced Mr. Arlott in front of the altar. His forehead shone with perspiration and she noted a trail of discharge running from his nose yet again. He sniffed loudly and took her hands in his. It was a struggle not to recoil at his touch, especially considering that she’d witnessed him blowing his nose only moments ago.

  Repulsed by his bawdy gaze, she decided to stare at his receding hairline, rather than actually looking into his eyes. There, that was better. Not much, but the urge to lose the contents of her breakfast lessened somewhat.

  Please, I want to be free.

  The bishop cleared his throat and welcomed the crowd of spectators who had come to witness this most joyous event. His implication that this was a happy occasion caused Lizzy to grit her teeth as she fought off a fresh surge of nausea. But before the bishop could go any further, the doors to the sanctuary burst open with a resounding thud.

  She peered down the aisle to discover a tall, darkly dressed man had barged into the church. Not only that, but the huge man wore a black cloth tied over the bottom half of his face, concealing his identity.

  Her heart raced. An outlaw. This man looked like a fierce outlaw.

  A collective gasp went up among the crowd when the man brandished a pistol. He fired it in the air, once, and the gunshot rang out in the cathedral, a violent boom that caused Lizzy to cover her ears and wince. She cast a quick glance at Mr. Arlott and noticed he’d gone completely white-faced and his nose now dripped freely. Apparently, he was too frightened to sniffle.

  “Everyone stay where you are,” the outlaw said, his deep voice echoing through the sanctuary.

  No one moved.

  The gun-toting criminal rushed down the aisle and grabbed Lizzy by the arm. “You’re coming with me, mademoiselle,” he said.

  “I’ll do no such thing,” she replied, ripping her arm from his large hand.

  “Excuse me,” Madame d’Campe said from her seat, “but I do not believe you are on the guest list. I demand you leave at once. You are causing a disruption and this is a most important occasion. Why, it’s the wedding of the century. How dare you interfere.”

  Lizzy almost snorted at her mother’s response. Oh, what an utter travesty Madame d’Campe must consider this disruption. Lizzy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

  The outlaw grabbed Lizzy again, this time holding her so tightly that she couldn’t manage to break away. His grip aggravated the bruises her mother had left on her arm earlier in the morning and Lizzy couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

  “Unhand my bride,” Mr. Arlott said, though his voice wavered with fear.

  The outlaw looked
upon Lizzy and his eyes crinkled with a smile, though she couldn’t actually see his lips to know how broadly he was grinning. “Ah, and what a beautiful bride she is,” he remarked in a conversational tone. “I think I’ll take her for myself.”

  Another gasp went up in the crowd, but no one rushed to help Lizzy. She should have expected as much. For all the careful planning her mother had put into this day, she hadn’t taken any security measures, despite the exorbitant value of the necklace that rested heavily upon her neck.

  The outlaw started dragging Lizzy down the aisle, heedless of her fierce protests. When Mr. Arlott spoke out again, this time sounding even more afraid, her captor paused and aimed the gun at him. A wet spot promptly appeared at the crotch area of Mr. Arlott’s finely pressed wedding trousers and he said no more, making no move to rescue Lizzy from the gun-wielding outlaw.

  “Oh my God, the necklace!” Madame d’Campe screamed as the outlaw resumed dragging Lizzy out of the cathedral. “He’s taking the necklace!”

  Her heart sank. Not, “he’s taking my daughter,” but “he’s taking the necklace,” was the last thing Lizzy heard her mother yelling as her captor succeeded in carrying her outside into the brightness of the late morning sun.

  The man tossed her unceremoniously up onto a waiting horse, stomach down, then mounted the beast behind her. He took off at a precarious speed and she closed her eyes, praying she didn’t fall off.

  Despite the seriousness of what was happening to her, an amused thought flickered through her mind. I’m flying.

  Chapter 3

  Having exchanged the horse for an inconspicuous looking carriage, Lizzy sat opposite the outlaw and eyed him with displeasure as they finally left the city of New Orleans. “I didn’t know you were going to bring a gun, Monsieur Marshall,” she said. “What if someone had gotten hurt?”