by Kruger, Mary
“Becky,” Amelia said, her voice very small. “Did you hear what they were saying?”
“Don’t worry about it, Melia.” Rebecca settled back on the pallet. “I think Sam will keep them away from us.”
“I’m not a child!” Amelia flared. “I know what pirates do to women.”
Rebecca stared at her in surprise. “Amelia—”
“Maybe those two won’t do anything, but what about him? Sam? What about,” her voice cracked, “the Raven?”
Rebecca closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Melia,” she said, though she very much feared she did know. They were both in for a difficult time. Unless—
She straightened, stunned by the idea that had just come to her, and at that moment Amelia spoke. “The viscount will never want me after this.”
“Oh, Melia, of course he will,” she said, without any conviction. The viscount would want a spotless bride, not someone who had been corrupted by a pirate. And Father—Rebecca’s breath caught painfully in her chest. Father would never forgive her if she allowed any harm to come to Amelia. It would be another sin to add to her long list of transgressions, and no amount of penance would ever expiate her guilt in his eyes. She had to protect her sister, and she thought she had a way. “I’ll take care of it, Melia,” she said, softly. “I promise.”
Brendan leaped nimbly from the Curlew onto the deck of the Raven, glad to be back, glad this business was over. In his cabin had already been deposited the gold bullion Smithers had carried; in his pocket crackled papers, documents for the Curlew; documents, as well, that served a vastly different purpose, and were worth more than the bullion. His mission had been a success.
The lines that held the two ships together had already been loosed. Aboard the Curlew his own men had taken command, and were jury-rigging a new mast. Once the repairs were done the Curlew would return to the West Indies. There in that chain of tiny scattered islands, they would put in at a harbor known to only a few, and the ship’s cargo would be broken up and sold. Smithers and Neville, now locked in their cabins, would be set free beforehand. Brendan trusted that Neville would speedily return to Washington City with the messages Brendan had given him. Soon Mr. Talbot would know his daughters had been taken hostage, and would make arrangements to pay the ransom.
Brendan frowned, so fiercely that a seaman nearby, sprinkling heated vinegar on the deck to wash away the smell of blood, glanced at him nervously. The plight of the Talbot sisters left a sour taste in his mouth. He rarely took hostages, having found they caused too many complications, but his instructions had been clear. This mission was too important to jeopardize; the hostages were to be used to cover its real purpose. That they were women was incidental, and, he admitted to himself as he went down to his cabin, a problem. He would have to maintain strict discipline so that they would not be bothered by his men.
“Was it a success, Cap’n?” Tyner, his steward, asked when Brendan walked into his cabin.
“Aye.” Brendan crossed the room and unlocked a cabinet, carefully stowing the papers inside. “Neville didn’t part with them easily, though.”
“What’d he think, ye asking for his papers?”
Brendan sat down at the table. “Thought it was an odd thing for a pirate to want, until I assured him I planned to sell them to the highest bidders.” He grinned wolfishly. “English or American.”
Tyner grinned back. Success for the Raven meant success for the entire ship, and in more than just profit. “A good day’s work, then.”
“Aye.” Brendan’s face sobered. “Except there were six men lost on the Curlew, and we’ve four injured.”
Tyner shrugged. “The perils of war, Cap’n. Now. Be ye hungry? Cook’s made a fine fish stew.”
“Aye. I’ve a hunger to sink a ship.” He smiled at the unintentional irony. “Tyner,” he said, and the steward stopped in the doorway. “How are our passengers?”
Tyner’s smile faded as he turned, hands on hips. “Proper scared, and what else did ye expect? What d’ye think you’re doin’ with them, Cap’n?”
“Orders, Tyner.”
“Aye, well, I don’t like it. Sam caught two of the crew lookin’ in at them before.”
Brendan sat upright. “Who?”
“Marley and Stevens. Sam took care of ‘em, but it won’t be the end of it, Cap’n. Not with two ladies aboard.”
“Devil take it.” Brendan got up and paced over to the wide stern window. The trouble was happening already. “Make it known that anyone who so much looks at those girls the wrong way won’t get his share of the profits.”
“That’ll cause a mutiny, Cap’n!”
“Oh?” Brendan turned, and he was no longer the affable captain, but the Raven, muscles bunched for action and a deadly gleam in his eye. “And who’s going to challenge me, boyo?”
“Someone ye don’t expect,” Tyner said, not at all impressed. “Miss Talbot wants to speak to ye.”
Surprise flitted across Brendan’s face, and then he smiled. “Now why didn’t I expect that? Very well, Tyner. Bring her here. And just her, Tyner. Not the other.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Tyner turned to leave. “Maybe ye’ll start showin’ some sense,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.
Brendan let out a sharp, short laugh. No respect for the Raven here, not from Tyner, and not from Sam. But then, they’d known him long before anyone had ever heard of the Raven, even he, himself. Together they’d faced many an adventure, and they’d face this one, too. Women aboard his ship. And how, Brendan wondered, sitting down again, would he manage that?
The door to the cell, for that was how Rebecca had come to think of the little room, clanged open with such abruptness that both she and Amelia started. “Cap’n’ll see ye now,” a small, bandy-legged man announced. “Come on with ye.”
Rebecca rose on unsteady legs. “Very well,” she said, managing by sheer will to sound calm. “Come, Amelia.”
“Cap’n said just you, miss.”
Rebecca stared at him, her arm going around Amelia’s shoulders. “I can’t leave my sister.”
“She’ll be watched.”
“No.” She felt like sitting down and crying, and that would never do. “We’ll both go to the captain.”
“‘Fraid not,” the man said, closing the door.
Rebecca’s bravado crumpled. “Wait! Don’t go.”
The door opened again, and he stuck his head in. “Ye willin’ to come alone?”
“Yes.”
“Becky!” Amelia wailed. “You can’t leave me.”
“I have to, Amelia.” She took her sister’s chin in her hand. “We can’t stay like this. Perhaps I can talk the captain into giving us some protection.”
Amelia’s eyes, luminous with tears, gazed up at her. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” she said, though she had her doubts. She had little to bargain with. Little, that is, that the Raven would want. “You must be brave, Melia.”
“I will be.” Amelia straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Papa would be proud of you.”
Rebecca hugged her briefly. “Thank you,” she said, touched by the words, dismayed by the thought of her father’s reaction should he learn what she planned to do. “I won’t be long, I promise. Look after her,” she added to the man, sailing past him into the passageway.
“Sam’ll do that. I’m to take ye to the cap’n. Up here, miss, and then down that hatch.” He led her onto the deck, and only the knowledge that the crew was staring kept her from stopping to enjoy the air, so fresh after being held below. “I’m Tyner, miss,” he added, leading her down another companionway, this one not as steep as the first.
Rebecca nodded. “Tyner.” She stepped off the last stair. “And do you enjoy being a pirate?”
“Now, miss.” He stopped as he reached a white-paneled door opposite the companionway, his eyes filled with what she could have sworn was reproach. “I only do as I’m told.” He opened the door. “Miss Talbot, Cap’n.”
“I’m not scared,” she retorted, stepping over the coaming into the Raven’s cabin. He sat at his ease in a wooden armchair behind a table, shirt opened at his throat to expose tanned skin stretched over taut muscles. Rebecca swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She would die before she let him see how frightened she was.
“No? Then ye are either very brave, or very foolish, leannan.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“As ye wish. Now. What is it ye want?”
Rebecca clasped her hands primly before her. “It’s more a matter of what you want, captain.”
“Oh? He tilted his head. “And what is that, Miss Talbot?”
Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, to where Tyner was watching. “I’d prefer to speak with you alone.”
Brendan waved his hands. “I’ve no secrets from Tyner.”
“Perhaps I do,” she snapped.
“A feisty one, isn’t she, Tyner?” he said, looking past her. “Not scared of the Raven. Imagine that.”
“Pray don’t mock me, Captain.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, leannan. Excuse me. Miss Talbot.” His eye gleamed at her. “Very well. Tyner, see to my supper. And don’t be too quick.”
“But, Cap’n,” Tyner protested.
“Now, Tyner,” he said, and, after a moment, Tyner went out. “Well, Miss Talbot? What is so important?”
“I demand to know what your plans are concerning my sister and me.”
“Demand, do ye? Not many people demand things of the Raven.”
“Oh, don’t they? Well, I will. I’m not afraid of you.”
He rose. “Aren’t you, leannan?” he said, stepping closer to her.
Rebecca swallowed again and held her ground. “No.”
“Ye should be, ye know.” His knuckles grazed her cheek, and she flinched. But not from fear. “Have ye not heard of me?”
“Yes. You are a dastardly pirate, sir.”
“Dastardly, is it?” His eye twinkled, and he reached up to twine a lock of her hair, come loose from its tight bun, around his finger. “Ye’ve beautiful hair.”
“Dastardly,” she repeated, her voice wobbling. “You prey on any ship, Lord knows how many. They say you’ve killed a score of men yourself.”
He tugged on the curl, and then released it. “Do they, now.”
“Do you deny it?”
“Oh, likely enough, ‘tis true,” he said, stepping away. Rebecca took a deep, shaky breath. The immediate danger had passed, but it was there, and it wasn’t just in him. It was in herself. She didn’t like the way she’d trembled when he touched her cheek, the way her mouth had gone dry when he played with her hair. Oh, she was wicked, wicked, and here she’d tried so hard to destroy that part of herself. The part that enjoyed a man’s touch.
She was so caught up in self-recriminations that she didn’t realize he’d gone on speaking, until he called her name. “Miss Talbot?”
She blinked, coming back to herself and the position she was in. Here was the danger, evoking those old feelings within her. She should run, she should flee while she could, but she knew she wouldn’t. “W-what?” she said, her voice unintentionally husky.
“You wanted to speak with me. Very well. I’m listening.”
Vaguely her mind registered that, in that moment, his brogue had lessened, but she had other things to worry about. “I came here to make a bargain with you, Captain.”
“Oh?” With almost feline grace he sank into the chair, his hands behind his head. “And what have ye to bargain with?” he said, his gaze roaming almost insultingly over her body.
She flushed. Oh, mercy, this was even more difficult than she had expected. “I would like my sister to be moved to a better cabin, and I would like her to be well guarded. In return...”
“Yes,” he prompted when she didn’t go on. “In return?”
“Will you promise she will not be bothered?”
“Mayhaps. In return, Miss Talbot?”
She raised her chin. Difficult or not, she had to go through with this. She had to protect her sister. “In return, for the duration of the voyage, I will be your mistress.”
Chapter Five
For a moment Brendan sat very still, startled into silence. “A remarkable offer, lass,” he said, finally, throwing an arm negligently over the back of his chair. “Are ye sure ye mean it?”
Rebecca thrust out her chin, valiant and stubborn. “Yes.”
“I see.” Idly, he rubbed his chin, stalling for time. “Almost, you tempt me.”
“Then you agree?” she said coolly, surprising him yet again. He had expected at the least annoyance at the insult.
“I did not say that.” Leaning back, he studied her. What the devil had prompted her to make such an incredible offer? And what the devil was he going to do about it? She wasn’t his usual type, far too sharp and bright, not at all the cuddlesome armful he usually chose. Taking her to bed would be penance for both of them: she likely suffering in silence; he, taking no pleasure from her martyrdom. But then he remembered how she had felt against him when he had taken the knife from her, unexpectedly soft and warm and womanly, and his body reacted with a surge of heat that unnerved and intrigued him.
You’re playing with fire, boyo, he told himself, but still he studied her at his leisure, seeking out the treasures that lay hidden beneath the shapeless gray gown. To her credit, she stood still under the scrutiny, though her face was flushed. Hard to tell, but there might be the curve of a breast, there, and the fullness of a hip, there. Tall, too; he wouldn’t have to bend to kiss her, and her long legs would wrap around him when—
“Have you seen enough?” she said, tartly, as he fought against another, stronger surge of heat within him. Fire, indeed, and likely he’d be burned. But it was a challenge she offered him, and he did not back down from a challenge.
“Nay, lass.” He leaned back. “Take down your hair.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Ye heard me. Take down your hair.”
“Why?”
“I’ve a desire to see it.” More than a desire. A pulsing, pounding mindless hunger, to see that glorious flame-colored hair loosened from its tight knot, spreading in waves across her shoulders, across the white linen sheets of his bed. Hair that held fire in it, he thought, and that was enough to bring him up short. When he began weaving poetry, ‘twas a bad sign. “Come, lass,” he said, impatiently. “Ye offer to lie with me, but ye will not even unbind your hair?”
She remained standing still, staring at him, and her eyes were deep and unfathomable as the sea. For some reason, that nettled him. “You mean to begin now?”
“Begin?” He leaned back, swinging his legs up onto the table and reaching for his knife. “Nay, lass. ‘Tis simply a wish of mine, to see your hair.”
“‘Tis a wish of mine to see the back of you,” she blurted out, her eyes on the knife, held casually and competently in his hand.
“Careful, leannan.” His voice was deadly soft. “‘Tis not wise to insult me when I have ye in my power.”
Her gaze flicked to the knife again. “Are you threatening me with that?”
“This?” He followed her gaze and saw with some surprise that he’d flicked the blade of the knife open. A habit of his, when danger was imminent; dangerous, in this instance. “Mayhaps,” he said, carelessly, and began to clean his fingernails with the tip of the blade. “If ye don’t desire me, lass, why are ye here? It is,” he looked up, “a surprising thing ye suggest.”
“I’ve told you.” Rebecca shifted her feet, her attitude very much that of a teacher struggling to get a lesson across to a recalcitrant pupil. For the first time the humor in the situation struck him. “For my sister’s sake.”
“Generous of ye, lass.” He sa
t up, flicking the knife closed and securing it at his belt. “Are ye certain she’ll thank ye for it?”
Two spots of color appeared high in her cheeks. “She knows I’ll protect her.”
“Protect her? But what if I agree to your bargain and then decide to take ye both?”
“You wouldn’t,” Rebecca gasped.
“Wouldn’t I? But ye forget, I’m a pirate, lass.” His smile was ironic as he leisurely swung his legs down and rose, stretching. It had been a prodigious long day, and yet he wasn’t tired. Far from it. All his senses were alert, awake to the danger that this woman posed to him, and to what he needed to accomplish. The mission was the important thing. He had no desire to see innocents hurt in the fulfillment of that mission. He was, after all, a man of honor. Aye, but he was also a man, he reminded himself as he slipped from behind the table to stand before her. He had to end this farce now, or the devil knew what the consequences would be. “And are ye certain it’s not for yourself you’re here?”
Her head jerked up. “I’ve never heard anything so insulting in my life—”
“Haven’t ye, lass? Turning missish on me, then, are ye?”
“I’ll have you know, sir, I have never been the least bit missish in my life!”
She sounded so indignant over this insult, far more than over his suggestion that she desired him, that he couldn’t help himself. He grinned, the humor and absurdity of the situation striking him at its fullest. She was a prim spinster; he, the Raven, as notorious with women as at sea, resisting what was freely offered. Except that this would have a price. Everything did. “Nay, lass, I didn’t really think it of you.”
“You’re laughing at me,” she said, and for the first time sounded uncertain.
“No, Rebecca,” he said, reaching out to grasp her chin. “Believe me, I take this very seriously.”
“Then why do you hesitate?” she demanded. “Don’t pirates plunder and pillage and,” she swallowed, “rape?”
