The Ladys Pirate

by The lady's pirate (lit)

  Masculine laughter echoed in the other room. The boy was careful to avoid her attempts to bite. She was effectively quieted. From the sounds of the men in the other room, Elspeth now knew she would find no help there.

  "Isaac," Hal spoke to the boy, "I'm having a private meeting here and we require quiet."

  He tipped his head toward the middle of the door, indicating a peephole. Then he nodded and raised an eyebrow. Isaac nodded in reply.

  "Keep her quiet or I'll come in and give her something to holler about."

  Elspeth glared, wishing upon him all the torments of Hell. He smiled and winked at her.

  She growled, shocking herself into silence.

  As soon as the door was closed, Isaac stood and indicated by signs that she was to stand as well, inviting her to peep through the hole in the door.

  The cabin was much neater than this one, she saw immediately, and larger as well. Obviously it was the captain's cabin and this was the cabin his woman would sleep in. She pushed such unsavory thoughts away and studied the room.

  There at the table lounged a man dressed all in black, his costume relieved only by white lace at collar and cuffs. His face was hidden by a wide-brimmed black hat. Hal had claimed he'd been hired by a man dressed in black to kill her. Was this the man?

  * * * *

  Hal waited until he was certain Isaac gotten Elspeth to the peephole. He'd seen the hate and distrust in Elspeth's green eyes and they had speared his heart like nothing else had ever done.

  "So, sir, where were we? You were reviewing our arrangement?" Hal sat again and raised his glass to his lips.

  "Yes, all right. I have decided we should proceed with the original arrangement. You must abduct the Countess from the Cock and Bull and dispatch her. Tonight."

  "Why the rush? You told me this afternoon you would seek a more, I believe you said, amusing plan?"

  "I have decided to proceed as I had decided before. It would be better if the girl died."

  Hal chuckled humorlessly. "Better for whom? Certainly not for her." He swirled the glass before his eyes, examining the color and texture. Excellent batch. He'd have to get more when he hit Cadiz again. His eyes moved to the man in black.

  "No. It isn't better for her." The man actually sounded a bit sad. Did he care for Elspeth's well-being, then, albeit in a twisted way? Perhaps he was mad. "But there's no other way, unless..." The man raised his gaze to Hal's. "Unless you were to take her away and never let her return to England."

  How convenient. Hal pretended to consider the suggestion.

  "She is an attractive woman. She would bring a good price in Spanish Town in one of the more exclusive brothels."

  A small fist pounded against the adjoining door before Isaac managed to get her quiet. Hal noticed the man in black turned toward the door.

  To get the man's attention back on him, Hal reached across the table and took the bag. He pulled open the draw strings and turned it upside down, letting the golden coins fall into his hand.

  George returned to the cabin, a single nod telling Hal what he wanted to know.

  "I'll do it. George, escort the gentlemen to their boat."

  The man in black jerked. "Boat? What boat?"

  Hal appeared unconcerned as he counted the money.

  "I told you we were sailing with the tide. Well, the tide left Lancaster fifteen minutes ago and we were with her. But we can't be more than-what, George?-more than a mile or two to sea. Thank you for your commerce, but you and your companions should be going now, or you'll be landing in Ireland." Hal rose. "Good night, sir. You may be certain your funds will be well spent."

  "What about the Countess?" the man asked.

  Hal decided to show his hand. "Isaac, bring in our passenger." He watched the man closely for his reaction.

  The door opened at his call and the boy came in, dragging Countess Greymere behind him. The man almost revealed his face in his surprise.

  "As you can see," Hal said, "I anticipated you. I found the Countess as fetching as you described and decided March doesn't deserve such a treasure. I'm taking her for myself."

  Elspeth remained silent, properly cautioned by Isaac's clever sign language. Her eyes flashed anger, no, rage, and despair, both at the same time. Hal was taken anew by the strength clothed in such soft flesh.

  "Who are you, sir?" Elspeth asked, breaking her silence. Isaac's tightened around the Countess's throat, squeezing off the last word.

  "Release her throat, Isaac. There is no reason for her to remain silent any longer. Let her to ask her question."

  Isaac released his captive. Elspeth coughed. Hal offered her a sip of his wine.

  She slapped the glass against the far wall. Her eyes-had they been flashing actual fire-would have burned him to cinders.

  "Who are you, you murderer? I know your instrument's identity, though I must admit I misjudged him most sadly."

  Elspeth struggled against Isaac's grip, but the boy held her fast. Hal dared not have Isaac release her. She'd most likely get them all killed before he could stop her.

  "My identity is of no importance," the man said. "You should know, I would have this otherwise, but I can see no other way out of our dilemma at present."

  "What dilemma?"

  The man seemed ready to reply, but snapped his mouth shut.

  "Come along," he said to his thugs. "We must go if we're to make land before the sheriff follows this vessel." He bowed to Elspeth then to Hal. "If it turns out you must kill her, make it quick, Merritt. I do not wish her to suffer."

  "She will not suffer if she learns her place and obeys orders," Hal replied, thoroughly enjoying the flash of ire and the promise of revenge in Elspeth's eyes. He'd no idea of the true depths of her hidden fires.

  "I am truly sorry, my dear," the man in black said to her.

  As the man and his thugs left the cabin, a remarkable thing happened. The Countess gasped.

  Then she fainted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The bed rocked in time with the pounding in her head. Elspeth squeezed her eyes tighter, wishing she'd not taken as much wine last night. Her stomach churned and she sat up, her eyes squinting around the room for the chamber pot.

  "Patsy!" Her call was pathetic, barely audible even to her own ears, yet she knew Patsy would be at her side in an instant.

  But Patsy did not come.

  Elspeth forced her gritty eyes wider. Then she began to remember.

  The man in black. The words Hal had spoken.

  She would bring a good price in Spanish Town in one of the more exclusive brothels.

  He'd taken money from the man. They'd agreed to take her away from England, never permitting her to return.

  The ship pitched. Elspeth rolled off the narrow bed and hit the floor, jarring her broken hand. She cried out in pain, for all she tried to be strong and silent.

  As though in response to her cry, the door opened, and the uncertainty of her situation caused her to squeeze fearfully against the bed.

  Hal came into the cabin-his cabin, she realized now-and kicked the door shut. He carried a tray, which he set on the table and hurried over to her.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you hurt your arm?" He reached out his hand to help her off the floor. "Come have some breakfast and I'll admire my handiwork."

  "I'm not hungry." Elspeth didn't wonder at the expression on Hal's face. She knew her tone was petulant.

  "If you don't eat, you'll be sicker. I can see the green around your gills already."

  "Sir, I do not have gills." She pulled her gown tighter around her, suddenly realizing how she was dressed. "My God, I am in my night clothes."

  "And very fetching you are."

  The words caught her off guard. Did he consider her attractive? It didn't matter. Richard had called her beautiful even as he beat her.

  "Please keep your comments on my person to yourself, sir."

  He had the audacity to smile at her command
. Did he think her amusing? Looking for signs he took her too lightly, her eyes followed him as he pulled out a chair for her and uncovered the tray he'd brought in.

  The space was too small with only the two of them here. Instead of accepting the chair, she backed away from the table and settled on the edge of the bed.

  His bed.

  She jumped to her feet, then sought a reason to cover her action. She settled on noble hauteur.

  Raising her chin and looking down her nose at him as though he were beneath mud, she said, "I demand you turn this ship around and take me back to England."

  "I cannot."

  "Cannot or will not?" When he didn't reply, she asked, "Am I your prisoner, then?"

  "Of course not. You are my guest."

  Elspeth snorted in derision.

  "What sort of guest is kept locked in a room in her bedclothes? Who but a prisoner has no say in her destination? Who but a prisoner can be sold to a brothel?"

  "I said that to convince the man to leave you alive. I swear you will not be treated disrespectfully."

  "And you expect me to believe you?"

  "I suppose you wish yourself back in your husband's tender embrace?"

  Hal uncovered the plate. Elspeth glanced over at the food, but made herself look away. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her desire anything he could give her.

  "I wish myself on dry land."

  He chuckled. "Soon, my lady. I shall show you a land such as you have never seen."

  "And if I do not wish to see this paradise?"

  His smile faded and he stared at her for a long, silent moment.

  "We are bound for Jamaica. We shall not stop before we get there. When we arrive, if you find my company onerous, I shall take you to the governor's palace and you can arrange passage to anywhere in the bloody world you care to go."

  As she realized his mood, and the probable reason for it, Elspeth felt a similar emotion rising in herself.

  "You are angry with me, sir?" she asked, her incredulity forcing her to question him. "You abducted me. I did not ask to come along on this cruise."

  "I heard you, Countess."

  He took a step closer to her until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She only had to raise her eyes a bit to look into his, yet he intimidated her more than any other man she'd ever known. Even Richard did not cause her insides to swirl and her knees to liquefy. His voice was not as deep or booming as Richard's, yet it reached places in her, the vibration echoing through to her spine, where it shook her to the deepest part of her woman's soul. It took all her concentration to focus on his words.

  "Do you remember what happened last night?"

  She realized with a shock she did not. She gazed into his eyes, wondering. Here she was in his cabin, waking in his bed. In her night clothes. Could her most wicked fantasy have come true? Would a pirate even hesitate to take a willing woman?

  "You and your cousin and I were visiting in your rooms at the Cock and Bull," he prompted.

  "I remember that. Then-" Fragments of memory flashed through her mind. "Richard came with that silly vicar." She pressed her lips together and stared into space, vainly summoning what happened next.

  Hal watched her closely. "Your husband flew into a rage and tried to kill us both. I-"

  "Did you kill him?"

  The eagerness in her voice shocked her into silence. Did she really hope he had?

  "No," Hal admitted. "I knocked him unconscious and we made our escape."

  "You mean you made your escape with a handy hostage," she corrected him.

  "You are being uncharacteristically childish this morning, ma'am."

  "And are you so well acquainted with my character to make such an observation?"

  Lord, she was being petulant. She didn't like seeing herself in this light.

  Trying to be more reasonable, she said, "All right, Mr. Merritt. I see where you might have thought you needed to escape a terrible situation, which I admit I am responsible for involving you in. However, I must insist on returning to England immediately."

  "I am not going back to England, Countess." He stepped away and returned to the table, where he poured her tea. "Milk and sugar?" When Elspeth refused to be diverted, he went on. "As you have pointed out, I removed you from England against your will. Considering my previous experience with the sheriff, I fear return would be hazardous to my continued good health. And, I wouldn't want to miss your husband's arrival in Jamaica."

  "Why would Richard come to Jamaica?"

  "To retrieve what is his. You." Hal took a seat at the table and poured himself tea, adding three sugars and milk.

  "Richard cares nothing for me. Why do you believe he will come?"

  "I took you from him. He will come. In fact, I have no doubt he is preparing to put to sea even now."

  He sipped his tea, looking for all the world like a gentleman, even with bare feet and wearing sailor's breeches, which ended below his knee, revealing enticing calves of rippled tanned muscle.

  Elspeth shook her head and looked away. Perhaps she did need tea. She took her seat opposite him and raised the cup to her lips. Not knowing where an American Indian might learn to brew tea, she didn't expect much, but was surprised by the strong brew. It settled her stomach and helped her think.

  So, he expected Richard to follow them. To retrieve what was his-

  She raised her eyes to meet his.

  "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it? To get Richard on your field of battle?" It became clear to her. "You used me to get to my husband."

  "I never pretended otherwise," he admitted softly.

  "Once he comes, what will you do?"

  "I thought I'd made that clear. I intend to kill him."

  The words were all the more chilling for his commonplace manner, as though he spoke of the weather. More chilling than if he'd described the murder in grotesque detail.

  "And me? What will you do with me?"

  She tried to be objective. Of course he didn't care any more about her than her husband did. She was a tool to him, to them both. One wanted her money, one wanted to use her to destroy the other. Which was worse? She spoke her thought aloud.

  "I realize I am nothing to you."

  A strange expression crossed his face before he regained his calm facade.

  "I do care what happens to you. I would not harm you. I couldn't leave you to be murdered. You should be treasured above all things." He glanced away, hiding his eyes from her, and rose from his chair. "Your husband will kill you eventually if I don't kill him first. In any event, you are under my protection until we reach Jamaica. Then you can go where you please." He went to the door and opened it. "I'll have you brought some clothing."

  She watched the door close behind him. The latch clicked and she was alone. Grudgingly acknowledging Hal was right, about everything, she picked up a biscuit and munched on it.

  He wouldn't return her to England right away. It appeared she was going to Jamaica. Would she be considered a ruined woman when she finally did return home? Society's regard had never meant much to her before, but she had to wonder how her disgrace would affect her people.

  A knock at the door shook her from her morose thoughts.

  "Come in."

  A young man, about Hal's age, entered, leading the young boy who had been with her last night. The lad dragged a trunk which must have weighed as much as he did. Once the trunk was inside, the man spoke to him.

  "That's fine, Isaac."

  The boy dropped the handle and rubbed his hands together.

  "Ma'am," the man said, "this is Isaac, the captain's cabin boy. He'll be at your disposal to provide you with anything you need."

  "Isaac and I met last night. And you are?"

  "I am George Ross, the Captain's first mate." He turned to the boy. "You may go, Isaac, but be attentive for the lady's call."

  The boy nodded. He turned to her and, carefully keeping his eyes to the floor, bowed and left. George
Ross raised the lid of the trunk to reveal a riot of color: greens in several shades; reds, cherry bright and flower soft; yellows, sharp as lemon and velvety as butter; blues, from dark azure to the palest color of the sky.

  "I hope you can find everything you may need in here. I regret we have no women aboard to help you."

  "I believe I can dress myself." She expected him to leave her alone, yet he stood by the door. "Mr. Ross, is there something else?"

  The man shook his head. "No, ma'am. Not a thing." With a curt nod of his head, he left the cabin.

  Elspeth listened for the grind of a key in a lock. But Mr. Ross didn't bother to secure her in her prison. Why should he bother? Where could she run?

  Wondering at the man's attitude, Elspeth knelt by the open trunk and took out the first item of clothing. It was a bodice of emerald green, the material light and gauzy. She held it up to her bosom.

  "Who wears such clothing? Certainly even in Jamaica ladies do not dress so."

  Even as she spoke the words, she glanced up at a painting on the cabin wall. It depicted a tropical scene, a plantation, and she remembered seeing similar trifles in the personal rooms of friends who'd visited the West Indies.

  Her suspicions were confirmed. In the background of the painting were the ladies of the plantation, laced and covered from head to toe in light colored muslins and linens, parasols and wide-brimmed hats protecting them from the harsh sun. Small brown children waved fans to cool them. Clothing such as the bodice she held in her hand adorned the brown-skinned native women.

  She couldn't dress the part of a native and maintain her self-respect. She dug through the trunk, seeking something more appropriate for an English peeress, but it yielded no such apparel. She fell on her rump in a huff.

  She would not stray out in her present state of dress, nor would she put on the outrageous clothes in this trunk.

  "He's probably laughing with Mr. Ross," she said aloud. "Enjoying this little game." She got to her knees and slammed the trunk lid down, thoroughly enjoying the thunk it made. "Well he won't get away with it."

  Rising to her feet, she marched to the door of the cabin and opened it.