Pirate's Conquest

by Mary Martin

  It was hours later before she finally summoned the strength to move. She rose from the bed and began pacing the room. Stiff and weary, she longed for a decent meal and a good soak in a hot tub.

  A bath would do wonders to restore her spirits. Bathing on the schooner had consisted of a dip in the sea. She looked down at her rumpled clothing. Had he thought to bring their trunks on board? She certainly hoped so.

  She took a minute to search through a huge sea chest sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. It was filled with expensive garments that were obviously Rayne's. The clean scent of lime wafted from the trunk and she felt a tug at her heart. Reaching into the chest, Starlin's fingers touched lightly upon a leather jerkin, caressed the soft leather before fingering a white linen shirt. The rich quality of the garments did not surprise her. Rayne liked nice things. There was nothing there of hers. Perhaps he hadn't meant to bring her along after all, but had planned to leave her on the island. Angrily, she slammed the lid shut and sat back on her heels.

  She hated him so. He trampled on people's lives and emotions as though they meant nothing to him. She was his slave, and at the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.

  A knock sounded at the door. Starlin got quickly to her feet and darted around the chest to sit on the bed.

  "Come in," she called, and was astounded to see a huge bear of a man lumber through the door, a tray balanced in one great hand.

  He smiled, revealing a sweep of pearly teeth in his swarthy face. "Beggin' your pardon, but I thought you just might like a spot of tea and some biscuits to hold you over until supper."

  She stared mutely at him.

  "Well, missus?'

  Starlin swallowed.

  "Oh, tea ... that is very thoughtful of you," she stammered, regaining her composure. "Just put it on the table please."

  She stared in wide-eyed wonder at the flashily dressed rogue. He was living testament to the true and numerous buccanneers who had once sailed the seas. Towering well over six feet, he wore a flowing gold shirt, dark pantaloons, and had a scarlet cloth tied

  around his head. A golden hoop earring dangled from his ear and a sweeping black mustache graced his generous mouth. Starlin found him striking in a wild, primitive sort of way. She noticed his black eyes twinkling at her. He offered her a mug of steaming tea.

  "Have a cup of Chevaz's tea and you'll be feelin' fit in no time."

  Starlin accepted the cup, her fingers wrapping about the warm pewter.

  "Are you the cook of the ship?'

  "Aye, I am Chevaz, and I be the best cook and swordsman combined to be found in the seven seas," he proudly boasted.

  "And you love this life, no doubt," Starlin said dryly.

  "It is a good life for a man. And Scorpio a fair captain," he returned without hesitation, watching her closely.

  Starlin took a sip of tea. The breath promptly stopped in her lungs and she gasped chokingly, "What in the world is in this besides tea?"

  "Added just a bit of Grog," Chevaz returned. "It will help keep up your spirits, and your health."

  "I... I've never heard of putting such a thing in one's tea before," she choked.

  "It's my own recipe." He offered up the pot. "I'll leave this for you."

  Starlin did not argue the point. When she had caught her breath, she inquired how Chevaz had come to sail under Scorpio. She hoped he might provide her with some clue as to why her husband willfully sailed the seas as a pirate leader when he had a title and family in London.

  "He intercepted a slaver ship bound from Morocco to the colonies. Scorpio set the captain and crew adrift in longboats and freed the lot of us who were being held prisoner in the hold."

  "And so you all became pirates together?"

  "Pirates? Is that what you think of us?"

  "I'd say it is rather evident by everything that I've witnessed."

  "You haven't looked close enough," Chevaz said, appearing miffed.

  Starlin stared at him, then replied, "What other reason would you have for sailing the seas in this particular guise?"

  "You should talk with your husband, not his cook," Chevaz replied.

  Starlin felt a flare of embarrassment. "You must know that is impossible at this time. I'm his prisoner— or have you forgotten how he brought me aboard ship?"

  Chevaz gave her a long, measuring look. "Perhaps in seeking the reason you are here, you'd do better to search your own heart well," he said cryptically.

  "I have no illusions about that," she snapped. "I hate the man with a passion."

  "Scorpio is not a man easily understood. He is fierce when crossed, and not one you'd wish for an enemy. But he is a fair man," Chevaz said. "He only seeks vengeance upon those who destroyed something very precious to him. We have all sworn allegiance to the same cause, for most of us owe him a great debt."

  "And how do you know that I am not one of the people he seeks vengeance upon?"

  "You are a part of him now," Chevaz replied with an odd light in his eyes. "To destroy you would be to destroy himself."

  Somehow, his words had not made her feel any better. Chevaz turned to leave.

  "I'll bring you dinner later."

  "What about the captain's dinner?" she asked hesitantly.

  'Til tell him that I have sent his dinner on to his cabin," Chevaz replied with a grin.

  "You are a kind man, Chevaz. I feel as though I have found a friend."

  "No one on this ship is your enemy," Chevaz replied before departing.

  The sun was just setting through the stern windows when Rayne Morgan entered the cabin. Starlin was busy setting out the covered dishes that Matthew the cabin boy had delivered. The food smelled heavenly, and Starlin could only hope that Chevaz did not take to lacing his food with spirits the way that he did his tea..

  Rayne went straight to the basin, stripped off his shirt, and proceeded to wash. There was a distinct change in him since the island. No longer was he the laughing, carefree lover she'd spent so many idyllic hours with. He was as distant as a stranger. Starlin began filling a plate with food, but found it difficult to concentrate on her task while facing the sight of his bronzed back. Muscles rippled in sinewy splendor each time he moved, and Starlin could not stop her heart from racing.

  "Rayne?"

  "What?" He did not turn around, but sluiced water through his hair with his fingers and then shook his tawny head like some great beast, droplets of water splaying out around him, glistening diamond bright in the setting sun gleaming through the windows.

  At last he took a seat at the table. There was a tautness about him, an air of pent-up emotions. He reached for a biscuit and bit into it. It appeared he had no intention of making the meal an amicable one. Bristling at his scornful treatment, Starlin snatched his filled plate from beneath his nose before he'd time to take a bite.

  Angry jade eyes were nearly black with fury as they met the fiery violet orbs challenging him.

  "You have a choice," Starlin managed to say levelly. "You may dine here, and treat me with the respect due your wife, or you can choose to eat in the galley with your men."

  One large fist came slamming down so hard on the table that the dishes were sent a good inch into the air. Starlin didn't move an eyelash.

  "I am tired and hungry," he roared, "and I seek only a few minutes of quiet in my own cabin and to share a bite of food with you—and this is what I'm faced with!"

  "Share! Did I hear you say that word?" Starlin shot back, arching one ebony brow.

  "You've made your point. Now, please, sit down so that I might eat before one of the men seeks me out for one thing or another," he retorted gruffly, shifting uneasily in his chair.

  Starlin remained stubbornly unmoved. Rayne glared daggers at her.

  "Oh for Chrissake." He rose to his feet and held out her chair.

  She sat down without another word, put his plate before him, and waited politely for him to sit back in his chair. He sat stiffly, waiting for her to serve her
self a portion of food. When she picked up her fork, he resumed eating. She bit back a smile.

  "By God's wounds," she heard him grumble between mouthfuls, "if I haven't saddled myself with the most stubborn female to be found in any port."

  The meal continued without incident, and although conversation was minimal, at least they spoke civilly to each other.

  After they'd finished the meal, Starlin stacked the plates on the tray and retrieved a bottle of port from a cabinet. She caught the brief flicker of surprise on Rayne's face as she offered him a glass.

  "Grandfather always enjoyed a glass of port after dinner."

  "Thank you," he said rather dubiously, accepting the tumbler.

  "Would you care for a cheroot?' she said casually, pausing in straightening the table.

  He stared unbelievingly at her. "Why, yes, I think I would."

  Starlin could feel his eyes watching her as she withdrew a long, black cheroot from a box on his desk and crossed back over the room to hand it to him. She even lit it for him. By that time he was at a loss for words and wondering what Chevaz might have put in her food to make her behave so.

  "What's going on?' he asked suspiciously.

  Starlin stared after him and wondered what she should say. When they were together like this it was easy to forget their stormy relationship, and even dream what it might be like if things were different between them. But just as quickly she dismissed such an absurd notion. It wasn't going to change.

  "I'm merely tired of being alone."

  Dusk was gathering the natural light from the cabin, the single lantern on the table glowing warmly in the room. He studied her closely in the wavering light. He liked what he saw.

  "I think it's more than eating alone," he said huskily.

  His eyes were searching as they moved over her face.

  Starlin clasped her hands together. "I can't go on like this ... not knowing. Tell me what your plans are for mer

  "I told you once before that I am taking you to Antare." There was no warmth in his voice.

  She nodded and stared at the ring on his finger. "Yes you did. But now that you have what you were seeking, are you going to abandon me there and return to EnglandT'

  He knew he could not tell her that he manipulated the ring from her in order to protect her. She would ask too many questions then.

  "You do have plans, I know you do."

  "I'm taking you to Antare because I feel it is the safest place for you right now. I can't stay because I have a job to do."

  "Can't—or don't wish to?" she bit out in return.

  "I'm not abandoning you for the love of Christ," he said curtly. "I'll return."

  Starlin was desolate. She felt certain that he had every intention of abandoning her. And to add to he misery, she was fighting an overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to hold her, ihat she was afraid of being alone, afraid of losing him.

  But her pride would not allow it.

  He stood up to leave then, their gazes locking. "I must get back on deck." Starlin recognized the heated look in his eyes but could not bring herself to ask him to stay.

  She sat for a long time after he'd left thinking bleakly about the future.

  By the end of that week Starlin had settled into the routine of the ship. Although Rayne still refused to allow her to wander freely above deck, claiming that it wasn't proper, her being the only female on board, he did take her for walks. They had formed an uneasy alliance.

  Starlin was content for a time. She took morning and evening strolls with Rayne and kept busy with simple chores the rest of the time. But after five days, she began to feel stifled by her confinement and her curious nature would not be contained.

  On one particularly fine morning, she finished her breakfast, and after a leisurely toilette, dressed in a yellow and white striped day gown and began tidying up the cabin.

  She hadn't seen Rayne that morning. He had been called to the hold at dawn to check on minor damage caused by several barrels that had shifted because of rough seas the night before. It didn't take her long to complete her tasks, and she soon found herself staring longingly out of the stern windows at the beautiful day. Golden sunbeams glistened on vivid turquoise water and danced on the windowpanes. Starlin longed to feel the breeze in her hair and the sun on her face. The seemingly endless hours stretched before her. Then and there she decided that a short stroll about the deck was exactly what she needed.

  She snatched up a shawl and stepped out into the companionway. After a quick glance down the passageway, and seeing no one about, Starlin swiftly made her way up the stairs and out onto the deck. The fresh salt air was delightful, and she breathed deeply. Several of the men were working about the area and smiled in greeting to her. The entire ship appeared alive with activity.

  High in the rigging, a good hundred feet above her, Starlin saw fleeting movement. She craned her head back to observe agile seamen scrambling about the ratlines checking the lines and sails. These were the topmen, a fearless lot who spent a large amount of their time aloft the ship at the "tops." This was one task Starlin was not of a mind to take on. She remembered her climb to the top on board the Ice Princess. Once had been enough. She was content to be an "idler"— one of those who spent their time below carrying out their duties.

  Thinking it best not to draw undue attention to herself, Starlin walked over behind a longboat and paused at the rail. Shielded by the boat, she was blocked from curious stares, content to watch a school of dolphins play off the starboard bow. She was surprised when Ely Morgan unexpectedly joined her.

  "I thought it was you I saw from the quarterdeck." His tone was solemn.

  Starlin turned to smile up at him.

  "Good morning. I was wondering when the two of us might find time to meet. I was beginning to think that

  you might be avoiding me."

  An odd little smile curved his lips.

  "My brother will not be pleased to learn you were above deck alone."

  Starlin's eyes flashed. "And I suppose you will waste precious little time telling your brother of my insubor­dination."

  Ely shot her a piercing glare, hesitant, deciding what he should do.

  "Go right ahead. He'll rant and rave for a little while," she cast Ely a meaningful look, "and then all will be forgiven."

  "You sound awfully confident of that."

  Starlin didn't blink. "I am." But in truth she was not at all. She was envisioning being locked in their cabin until hell would freeze over. She could only stare at Ely who, it appeared, was suddenly seized by a fit. He threw back his head and laughed until he nearly choked.

  "I knew the first time I laid eyes on you in the cave that you were a little hellcat," he chortled almost gleefully, "and that you would give my brother something to lie awake nights thinking about. What a fine lady he has chosen for his bride." His eyes sparkled as they met hers. He extended his hand. "Welcome to the Morgan family. You shall fit in very nicely, I think."

  Starlin, surprised, shook his hand. "I must say I did not expect you to be happy about the marriage." She thought he looked very much like a younger version of Rayne, except he was not as devastatingly handsome— charming was more the word to describe her brother-in-law. His smile was warm, his manner open. She

  thought they would get along famously if given the opportunity.

  "I would have come to your wedding, Starlin. However, circumstances muddled things that day."

  "You don't have to pretend, Ely," Starlin stated softly. "Rayne did not wish any of his family present." She felt her cheeks burn. "I think he is ashamed of the circumstances that led to our marriage."

  "No, that is not the reason at all," Ely hurried to assure her.

  Starlin curved her hand across her forehead to block out the brightness of the sun glinting off the water. "You know why, don't you?"

  He sighed, staring at her intently.

  "I wish we had time to talk," he stated huskily. "This is not someth
ing one can explain in a matter of minutes."

  "Tell me what haunts your brother," Starlin urged. "Is it a woman he once loved?"

  Ely leaned on the rail and stared out to sea, his eyes narrowing against the sun. "It is true that a woman haunts him, but not a lover. April—our mother— haunts Rayne. You have to help him, Starlin. And I'll help you if possible—for I believe you are the only one capable of reaching him. This horrible nightmare must come to an end. I am sick to death of sailing the seas myself."

  Starlin was surprised. She saw the look of un­guarded anguish on his face and knew that he meant every word.

  "Even when he told me that he was through with this rife, I knew that would never happen," she said.

  "He wants to be," Ely replied.

  "But I wore that ring, Ely. How can he ever trust me completely?"

  "You know?' He appeared surprised.

  "Most of it. I have been piecing it together since our first encounter. Although I really don't know what the ring had to do with your mother, or how Carl came to have it in his possession."

  "Neither do we. But Rayne will never rest until he knows the truth. It eats at him constantly." He sighed with dismay. "Has Rayne ever told you anything about our father and mother, the life we led before that ring disappeared?" He turned to search her face, a piercing look of inquiry in his eyes.

  "No he hasn't," Starlin returned.

  "It isn't anything either of us likes to remember, but it is something we're not likely to ever forget."

  "Are your parents dead?"

  "My father is dead. Rayne never could forgive my mother for her part in our father's death. She is very ill and cannot tell us anything."

  "Did something terrible happen between your father and mother?'

  "There was talk of an affair. My father believed it, and since Rayne was the oldest, he suffered more from the gossips than I did." Ely paused, his eyes shadowed by grief. "He swore if he ever found April's lover that the man would pay dearly. He swore to kill the man."

  Starlin recalled that first night the pirate Scorpio had come hurtling into her life. "In the back of my mind I suspected something like this. I didn't want to accept it, but it explains many things. The vendetta, the dark looks Rayne sometimes cast me when he thinks I am not aware—and the bitterness between us." Her eyes searched Ely's. "And the ring that I wore ... it was April's?"