The Pirate's Secret Baby

by Darlene Marshall

  She was also younger than he'd suspected when he first encountered her, pegging her age at around twenty-five years old. The day just became that much more interesting.

  "You missed me, didn't you, Miss Burke?"

  "Why have you stopped this ship? What do you want with me?"

  Anger looked good on her. The gray sack she wore hurt his eyes though. He'd have to do something about that.

  Robert turned back to the hapless captain of the Clementine.

  "This is what I came for."

  "You want her?" Captain Macdavid looked at her and scratched his beard, puzzled. "Well, all right, go ahead and take her."

  Miss Burke gasped, and pulling free of the men holding her, marched over to Macdavid. "You don't protest this man kidnapping a passenger from your vessel?" she angrily pointed at St. Armand in case there was any question exactly who she meant.

  Macdavid shrugged. "Your passage is already paid, so it's all the same to me. I never guaranteed a safe journey, miss."

  She stood nearly toe to toe with the older man, her fists clenched. "Return my money!"

  "I never promised that neither!" he protested, and Robert stepped forward and took the governess by the arm before there was bloodshed.

  "What a prudent attitude, Captain Macdavid. You are also, no doubt, eager to show your gratitude for my not attacking your ship. How grateful is the captain, Norton?" he asked the sailor who'd just emerged from the hold.

  "Macdavid wants to show his gratitude in the form of Cuban cigars and rum, Cap'n."

  "What? Now see here, taking the woman is one thing, but you can't take my cargo too!"

  "Why would you make such a foolish claim that I am taking your cargo? Rather, say in earshot of all these witnesses that you're giving me those gifts. Then I will refrain from accidentally sinking your pestilent scow. After all, I have what I came for, so it's all the same to me."

  Robert grinned broadly at the captain, but apparently it wasn't the friendliest smile in his repertoire, for Macdavid gulped and nodded jerkily.

  "Of course, Captain St. Armand! It would be my pleasure to give you these gifts!"

  "Excellent!" Robert turned back to his crewmen.

  "Go with Norton and fetch our gifts from Captain Macdavid, then meet me aboard the Prodigal. Fetch Miss Burke's trunks and gear as well."

  She just stood there, looking down at the deck, pale and numb from her change in status from paying passenger to pirate booty. Ah well, he had no doubt she'd perk up when she saw Mattie.

  "Do not despair, ma'am. I can offer you far better accommodations aboard my vessel than what you have on this hulk," he said. At least when she looked at him she was angry again, and not wan and frightened as she'd looked moments ago. Angry was better.

  "If you make me travel to England, I will tell the authorities when we arrive."

  "You don't want to do that. People who try to inform on me have tragic and fatal accidents. You do not wish to have a tragic and fatal accident, do you, Miss Burke?"

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "I never threaten. Instead, I share information which leads people to make prudent and healthy decisions, not tragic and fatal ones."

  He smiled at her again, the "dashing pirate rogue" smile that prompted an amazing roundness in the heels of the women he used it on. Miss Burke appeared impervious and when she drew close to him he saw her eyes were not solid green, but emerald flecked with warm tones of citrine. They nearly distracted him from her next statement.

  "I cannot return to England."

  "Cannot or will not?"

  She did not speak, but glared at him.

  "Why can you not return to England? My heavens, did you murder someone?"

  "I am contemplating murder at this moment, Captain St. Armand," she said through her teeth. "Leave me alone to continue to St. Thomas!"

  "That I cannot do."

  She gasped as he hoisted her in his arms.

  "I suggest you cease struggling and put your arms around my neck, Miss Burke, unless you fancy crashing to the deck or falling into the ocean."

  She did as he instructed and he grabbed the line tossed to him by one of his men, then easily swung over to his ship. Now there was a move calibrated to impress starched-up spinsters! Whether from fear or simply overcome with the thrill of being in his arms--he had to assume the latter was the case--she clung to him for dear life. Robert's senses registered that the bundle of womanhood he carried smelled clean, like soap, not like the heavily scented whores and ladies he was used to having in his arms.

  Clean was pleasant. Showed she wouldn't instill slovenly habits in his daughter. He set Miss Burke on her feet where she wobbled before putting her hand up to her scalp. Some of her pins had come loose and so had her hair, now flying about in the breeze.

  Robert eased the pins into his coat pocket.

  "Avast, ye scurvy dog! Strike your colors or I'll...I'll... What will I do, Mr. Turnbull?"

  "Say, 'I'll scupper your ship and use your guts for garters, ye lily-livered--oh. Captain, sir!" Turnbull knuckled his forehead and said, "Um, I have to be off now, Mattie," before scurrying below.

  Mattie looked up then and spotted the governess, her face lighting up. She ran over and Lydia Burke squatted down on the deck to open her arms to Mattie's embrace.

  "Miss Burke! Miss Burke! I am so happy to see you again!"

  "I am happy to see you too, Mathilde. I missed you," she said fiercely, hugging the child to her chest. Mattie drew back her head and looked at her.

  "I am not Mathilde anymore, Miss Burke. Now I'm Marauding Mattie, the terror of the West Indies!"

  "Are you indeed, miss?"

  She stood, still holding Mathilde. While her words were icy, if she were a dragon she'd be breathing flame to protect the child. Rather than make Robert angry, he found it promising she would champion her welfare. Mathilde needed someone to watch her back because while there were few things in the world he was certain of, he knew pirates did not die of old age in bed. At least, not their own beds.

  "Mathilde, you know I said you needed a governess."

  "Papa did say that, miss. He said my governess would keelhaul me if I disobeyed her commands."

  "Wha--no, I did not say that!" He glanced around the deck for rescue. "Mr. Fuller! Is the cabin ready for Miss Burke?"

  "Aye, Captain, and we're almost done here."

  "Very good. Prepare to get under way. Miss Burke, may I escort you to the cabin you'll be sharing with Mattie?"

  She set Mattie back on her feet and brushed down her garment before clasping her hands at her waist and taking a deep breath.

  "I see I will accomplish nothing by discussing my"--she looked down at the child who was watching her--"my situation, but we will talk this evening."

  "I am certain any evening spent in your company can be nothing but delightful, Miss Burke."

  Robert kept his smile fixed as he went below. She thought she had the weather gage, but the day was not yet over. He did need a governess, but he was not about to stand down on his own ship. She was a servant, kidnapped to care for Mathilde. He was the captain and enjoyed all the privileges of that position. He flung open the door to Fuller's cabin, then stopped still.

  "My goodness," Miss Burke said as she peered around his back. "This was not what I expected."

  Someone had raided the captain's cabin while he was out, carrying off the booty. There were two bunks, narrow, but awash in embroidered and jewel-toned silk pillows of crimson, amber, sapphire, turquoise and emerald. A fine rug on the deck promised comfort to bare feet padding about during the night. He knew from experience how cozy, deep and luxurious the silken pile of that rug felt, a gift from a grateful Turkish pasha.

  The raiders had not carried off his deep mattress or the mirror fastened to the wall, or the rose satin coverlet, but it was a near thing. They had taken the ivory-inlaid chest, the brass lantern from Morocco, his chest of drawers set in silver, and for all he knew, his chamber pot with the King
of Spain's portrait on the bottom, a special gift from the Mexican rebels.

  The cabin was cramped for two people, even if one was a little girl, but it looked much more inviting than when Mr. Fuller occupied it. Miss Burke walked into it in a daze, looked around, and then turned and did the strangest thing. She smiled at him.

  Robert blinked. He knew his smiles were devastating, but that was to be expected, given his charm, amazing good looks, fashion sense, savoir faire, and his practice sessions before his looking glass, but to find such loveliness behind her drab exterior...

  "Most unexpected indeed," he murmured.

  "You told me the accommodations aboard your vessel would be finer, but really, Captain St. Armand, I never would have imagined this!"

  She reached onto the bunk and picked up--dammit, those scrubs had taken his sable pillow!--his favorite pillow and caressed it with her slim hand. A ripple of pleasure crossed her face, quickly suppressed. It appeared the governess had a touch of the sensualist within her and he filed the information away in his mind, one more weapon he might use to his advantage.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, one of his favorite poses.

  "This is satisfactory then? You will be sharing the cabin with Mattie."

  "Mattie the Marauder?" she asked dryly. "Yes, I think the littlest pirate and I can be quite comfortable here."

  She looked about to say something else, but he forestalled her with a raised hand.

  "I recognize that look. Before you ring a peal over my head, I'll leave and spare myself. I really do not care to hear it. The men will bring you your gear. Get what you need for now, and the rest will be put in the hold to give you more room here. Supper is at six bells and you and Mattie will join me, Miss Burke."

  "Is that an order?"

  "When I say you will do something, you may take it as an order. It is safer that way."

  He favored her with another look, the one that sent his men scurrying for the relative safety of the rigging, but she just sniffed in a governessy fashion and said, "Send Mattie to me, Captain, and we will organize our cabin and discuss our schedule."

  "Until later then, ma'am."

  Robert returned to his own cabin, now considerably barer than before. He examined himself in the looking glass, but he did not look any different to his own eyes. Why then was Miss Burke impervious to his charm? It was a mystery.

  It was not important, he told himself firmly. She was here to take care of Mattie, and the last thing he needed was a lovesick governess swooning over his good looks when she should be teaching. He would take her to England, pay her, buy her passage back to the Indies if she desired, and he and Mattie would move on with their lives.

  He pulled out the hairpins he'd stolen from the lady's hair and put them in a carved box inside his sea chest.

  * * * *

  When Mattie entered the cabin she looked around and said, "All of Papa's nice things are here now."

  Lydia stopped from where she was folding her dress. "These items belong to your father?"

  Mattie nodded, running her finger over the silver hairbrush. "I slept in Papa's cabin when he brought me aboard. He has a very large bed, but he hung a hammock for himself and I slept in the bed with all these pillows."

  Lydia could imagine the pirate captain in a very large bed surrounded by all the pillows, his bronzed body gleaming against the satin. She'd seen men in the islands whose skin was roughened by weather and time, but Captain St. Armand wore his color as if a loving sun had kissed him all over, laving a gold sheen across the expanse of his muscles and sinews. He was covered now, but the glimpse she'd had of him on St. Martin was enough to allow her imagination free rein, and Lydia knew, to her own regret, that her imagination was quite well developed.

  "Which bunk should I take, Miss Burke?"

  Lydia shook herself and looked down at her charge. Mathilde--or Mattie as she preferred--was once again her responsibility and Lydia would not shirk from that responsibility, even if it came at gunpoint, more or less.

  "I will take the bunk closer to the door, Mattie. Are you enjoying your life aboard this boat?"

  Mattie giggled. "The Prodigal Son is not a boat, Miss Burke! It is the finest schooner and the most feared pirate ship in the Caribbean!"

  "That is as may be, Mattie, but my responsibility is to you, not to this ship. I am not a pirate, I am your governess."

  "Wouldn't you rather be a pirate?"

  "Pirates--" Lydia was about to say pirates usually ended their careers on a hangman's rope, but that might distress the child, who'd already lost a mother.

  Mattie was looking down at her bare toe, scuffing across the deck. "I did not want a governess, Miss Burke. Oh, I like you ever so much, but I want to be a member of the Prodigal's crew and I cannot do that if I have to do needlework and practice my handwriting."

  "It seems to me, Mattie, those would be useful skills aboard ship. For example, who made those clothes you are wearing? You did not sew them yourself, did you?"

  Mattie giggled again. "No, I cannot sew this well, ma'am. You know that. Sails made them for me. He is also making me a jacket of pink satin with quilting that will keep me warm on the trip!"

  "Where would a pirate get pink satin?"

  "Papa says a French sloop gave it to them when they stopped to exchange greetings."

  Lydia kept her thoughts on the provenance of French satin to herself and continued with her teaching. After all, one did not spend one's life in the classroom, so learning occurred in the world where one would be living every day.

  She'd learned life's most important lessons outside of the classroom and her goal now was to prepare Mattie for her own life. She wondered what that life in England would be, and why Captain St. Armand was so committed to going there. One would think life in the islands would be more suited to his sybaritic tastes.

  "There is my point exactly then, Mattie. Mr. Sails has skills he put to use for you, skills vital to this vessel. I always saw men mending sails and their clothing on the ships where I was a passenger."

  "I help too, Miss Burke. I can scrub the deck and peel potatoes and I am learning how to tie proper knots."

  "All of those are excellent skills, Mattie. Think of how much more you would have to offer if you became good with a needle, and if your handwriting was clear enough that you could make entries in the log and write letters."

  "Letters ordering people to surrender to the Prodigal?"

  "I was thinking more of letters about your life aboard ship. Do you not think it would be an interesting story to tell?"

  "It will be interesting if there are guns and swordplay and booty. You should read Captain Johnson's book! It even has lady pirates!"

  Lydia added "appropriate reading material" to her list of items to discuss with Captain St. Armand. In fact, she should be making a list of issues to raise with the pirate. That way she was less inclined to be distracted by strong arms and cleft chin. She continued to unpack her belongings as the youngster arranged her dolls on her bunk. A new doll with a china head was part of the crew and Mattie addressed them in a low voice as she played.

  "And you must always obey the captain's orders or else she'll maroon you!"

  "Perhaps we can have a tea party with your friends there?" Lydia said a touch frantically. "If you cooperate and have your lessons with me each morning, and do your chores, we will have a tea party later in the voyage."

  "Pirates don't have tea parties, Miss Burke, that would be silly."

  "I believe pirates will come to a tea party if we invite them."

  The girl looked at her for a long moment, assessing her words. Her expression was so similar to what she'd seen on Captain St. Armand's face she was struck anew by the resemblance. To his credit, he had not denied Mattie was his own daughter, but Lydia could not help but wonder what the captain would have done had the child not looked like a tiny version of her father.

  "I would like that, ma'am."

  "Then we have a bargain, Mattie. No
more talk about not doing your lessons with your governess, and we will plan a tea party. With pirates."

  "We have to invite my papa too."

  In her experience, men avoided spending time with their children, especially daughters. She expected now that Captain St. Armand had kidnapped himself a governess, he would mostly ignore his small responsibility.

  So much had occurred in the space of a few hours that she had not had time to analyze her own situation. Every league they traveled across the Atlantic brought her closer to England, and dismay at the prospect caused her breath to catch. There was nothing to be done for it now, but if she were careful she might be able to escape again. This time she would head to Canada or the United States. If her captor came through with her promised funds she could assume a new name, find herself a new life where no one knew her.

  Lydia ran her hand over a pillow, a shiver of sensation running down her spine at the lush fur beneath her fingers. The ship was aptly named The Prodigal Son, for the captain had been lavish outfitting it with luxuries for his pleasure. She could well imagine how such an object might enter into lustful encounters inside the pirate's cabin. She suspected he would be a selfish lover, but he did have an eye for creating an inviting environment. That put him ahead of most of his gender who were happy to shove a woman up against a table and toss her skirts over her head.

  That last thought brought back to mind those moments in the captain's arms, his hard body plastered against hers as she held on for dear life while he effortlessly swung them aboard his ship. He'd smelled of limes and salt and male, a change from being subjected to the unwashed captain and crew of the Clementine. There was no doubt the man was an accomplished libertine who thought he knew his way around women. This voyage promised danger of many levels, not the least of which being the caught between the handsome blue-eyed devil and the deep blue sea.

  Her shoulders relaxed as she looked at Mathilde ordering her toys about, the bunk acting now as a ship on the ocean for the hearty crew of rag animals and doll babies. There was no denying that seeing Mathilde again, holding her in a warm embrace, feeling her soft childish curls against her cheek was indescribably wonderful.