Pirates of Britannia Boxed Set Volume One: A Collection of Pirate Romance Tales

by Barbara Devlin

  “As your wife, it falls on me to serve our meals, and I am starved, given you refused Mama’s offer of a wedding breakfast, after our ceremony.” After scooting to the edge of the mattress, she set her feet on the floor, stretched her arms, and flicked her fingers, and he pulled her from the bunk and into his embrace. As he scored a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck, she clung to her faculties, or else he would distract her. “Perhaps, we should dine with the crew and present a united front.”

  “Why?” He lifted his head and frowned. “And I thought I made myself clear. I want you naked, in my bunk, for a sennight. Maybe a fortnight, as per the terms of our accord.”

  “My darling, that sounds wonderful, but it really is not very practical.” Pushing free of his hold, she snatched her mantua from the chair, where he tossed it, when they returned to the ship. “And is that the only reason you married me?”

  “Trust me, the consummation was the only thing that interested me in the actual nuptials.” He frowned, as she pulled the garb over her head and gave him her back. As he tugged on the laces, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. “And you know I married you because I love you, or you never would have got me anywhere near the altar. But keeping you naked and in my bunk is the benefit foremost on my mind, at this moment.”

  “Then I shall accompany you to the galley and on deck.” As she swept up her hair, she eased into her slippers. In the wash area, she secured her unruly curls. “And when we retire for the evening, you may reenact the consummation, to your heart’s content.”

  “Oh?” He narrowed his stare. “I accept your offer and extend a requirement of my own.”

  “Know that if it is in my power to provide it, I shall do so.” In his fashion, she crossed her chest. “I swear on my soul’s salvation.”

  “That is a strong oath, Rose.” His expression, pure animal, gave her gooseflesh. “By the code, you had better be sure of what you promise.”

  “As must needs, for a buccaneer’s wife.” She squared her shoulders. “And I am as certain as I am of my name.” Then she recalled the correct pirate-speak. “Y-you may d-damn my bones and gizzard.”

  “It is lights and gizzard.” He laughed. “But I adore your attempt to make your oath, and I claim my prize. If I permit you to accompany me to address the crew, then I get to bend you over my desk and drop anchor in your windward passage.”

  “Windward passage?” She blinked, as her thoughts ran amok. “What, on earth, does that mean?”

  “Say yes, my naïve bride.” To her surprise, he smacked her bottom. “Trust me, you will enjoy it.”

  “Something tells me that is not entirely true.” Yet, he looked so hopeful, as he shrugged into a shirt and then tugged on his boots. And they were married, which he reminded her, when he kissed the sensitive spot between her legs, and she reveled in that. “Well, it is our wedding night, and I would not spoil it for you, so I accept.”

  “Then let us venture forth, as I am anxious to broaden your horizons, as well as your backside.” He held open the door and bowed. “After you, Mrs. Reyson.”

  “Ooh, I love it when you call me that.” In the hall, he wrapped an arm about her waist, and she leaned into him. “And I should speak with the cook and offer my assistance, because his fare leaves much to be desired.”

  “I would approach him with a great deal of humility, because he has served this ship for six years.” As they neared the long tables, where the crew took their meals, her husband slid his hand to her hip, and she quickly restored his grip to her waist. “What?”

  “Turner, the men will look to you, to decide how they will treat me.” Several tars glanced in her direction, and she cursed the burn of a blush. “Behave, until we return to our cabin, and you may do with me as you please.”

  “Believe me, I intend to.” In her ear, he whispered, “Remember your promise, because I cannot forget, and I want you.”

  “Soon, my love.” Of course, she had no idea to what act he referred, but he had not hurt her, so she had faith in him. Then she gave her attention to the crew. “Good evening.”

  “Ma’am.” Eastman saluted, as several sailors traded whispers. “Is there something we can do for you, Cap’n?”

  “My wife would like to join you for dinner, as she is now part of our family.” Turner smacked a young lad. “Make a hole.”

  “Aye, sir.” The gadling picked up his plate and moved to another empty space.

  “Weigh your anchor, Mrs. Reyson.” Giddy, she did as he bade, and he straddled the bench and pulled her close. She protested not, when he cupped her bottom with one hand, as he pounded the table with the other. “Bring us some grub.”

  A couple of men scrambled into the galley. Minutes later, they returned with ample portions of salted beef, bone soup, hardtack sea biscuits, and greased grits, along with rum, which she still did not favor.

  “Eat plenty, as you will need your strength for tonight.” He waggled his brows. “And while you have not developed a taste for the grog, you should drink some, as it will make what I have planned a little easier for you.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me?” After breaking a biscuit in two, she dipped a piece in the grits and shoved the morsel into her mouth. “Because you will never hurt me, of that I am sure, so your windward—”

  “Shh.” Snorting, he touched a finger to her lips. “My bashful bride, you do not want to announce to the crew what we share in the privacy of our quarters.”

  “Aw, Cap’n, she already did.” Tolly smacked his thighs and guffawed. “That was some wail.”

  “Watch your language, in the presence of Mrs. Reyson, and what happens between Cap’n and his bride is no business of yours.” Eastman wagged a finger. “And I would have you remember she is our Lady of Fortune, and that position commands respect.”

  “Except Fortuna has not spotted treasure in more than a sennight.” Allen arched a brow. “Not that I am counting.”

  Turner tensed his muscles, and she set her palm to his thigh.

  “My cherished husband. Instead of departing for England, from Charles Town, might I suggest another course? A brief diversion?” Her suggestion met with confusion, as her husband squeezed her arse, and she rested her head to his chest, as she addressed the crew. “You see, there is a narrow inlet near my home, and I watched a ship navigate the passage and anchor alongside a breakwater constructed to slow erosion. A group of men rowed two jolly boats ashore, where they carried three large chests into the trees.”

  “And you never told anyone of this?” Eastman scratched his temple.

  “I never told a soul, until now.” Dropping back her head, she held Turner’s stare. “Because you are my family, and we stand together, do we not?”

  A chorus of concurrence swept the gathering.

  “Can you take us there?” Tolly asked. “Do you remember the location?”

  “I do.” She nodded and said to Turner, “Have your men sail south, to the cone-shaped foreland. It is distinct in its shape, and you cannot miss it. The opening is deceiving, because it appears too shallow to accommodate a ship, but if you tack along the southern shore, you can maneuver the passage.”

  “All right, men.” Turner cupped her chin and winked. “Helmsman, you have your course. Heave up the anchor, because we set sail within the hour.”

  “Wait, Cap’n.” In that moment, Eastman raised his mug of rum. “To our Fortuna. Long may she fly with the Malevolent.”

  As the crew toasted Rose, she wrapped her arms about Turner. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” He hugged her so tight she could scarcely draw breath. “Shall we go up to the helm?”

  “Is it not time to collect on your part of our bargain?” She nuzzled him. “You promised to teach me something new, and I am inexpressibly curious about the windward passage.”

  “Perhaps we should wait until you are more comfortable in your role as my wife.” He stood and took her with him, and she pressed her body to his. “As much as you tempt
me, I would not frighten you for anything in the world, and we have plenty of time to explore the various aspects of intimacy.”

  “We made a pact.” She pushed him in the direction of their cabin. “And I would live up to my end.”

  In a single swoop, Turner threw her over his shoulder and swatted her bottom. “My dear, I have no doubt you will, in more ways than one.”

  Epilogue

  Port Royal, Jamaica

  February, 1681

  THE MALEVOLENT LISTED gently at anchor, off the coast of Port Royal, as lightning flashed, in the distance. At the waist, Turner swore like blue blazes, stopped and gripped the rail, gritted his teeth, and growled in frustration. From the general direction of his cabin, another cry of pain echoed, and his knees buckled, as he could bear anything but Rose’s suffering.

  “This is madness.” Another howl of agony sent a shudder of terror along his spine, because he could not contemplate his world without Rose in it, and he thought he might vomit. “How long does it usually take?”

  “She has been at it since dawn.” Allen winced, as Rose emitted another soul-shattering shriek. “Hell and the Reaper, I would rather eat that what falls from my tail than birth a babe.”

  “You could have stayed ashore, because you are always complaining.” Eastman flinched, given the ear-splitting scream. “No one forced you to join us.”

  “As Cap’n says, we are family, and Rose is our Fortuna.” Allen motioned to the rear. “And I am not the only one what feels that way, because every member of the crew answered the call, when it was time.”

  Indeed, his wife ruled the Malevolent, given her peculiar, unfailing talent for spying prize and booty endeared her to the men. But she treated them with respect, thus she garnered their admiration.

  When a particularly potent bellow rocked the boards, and a collective of pale expressions greeted Turner, he smacked a fist to a palm. “Enough. I am going to my cabin, and Thwaites can flog off, if he does not like it.”

  In seconds, he navigated to the chamber he occupied with his wife, when they sailed, flung open the oak panel, and rushed to the bunk. The first thing he noticed was blood. So much blood. And Rose reclined, unmoving, with her eyes closed.

  “Sweetheart?” With care, he sat on the edge of the mattress, even as his heart plummeted, and he feared the worst. While he wanted Rose to deliver their first offspring in their bed, she insisted his heir be born at sea, so the crew sailed just past the reef and dropped anchor, because no one refused Fortuna. “My love? My sweet lady, are you all right?”

  “Turner, my darling.” Her lids fluttered and she gazed on him with the same yearning that characterized their marriage. “I am fine, and you are a father.”

  “Indeed?” From the wash area, the cry of a babe provoked tears, and Turner swallowed hard, as he took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “But you are well?”

  “She is a strong woman, Cap’n.” Thwaites chuckled, as he carried a wiggling bundle to the bunk. “Then again, she would have to be, to bear the spawn of your seed.”

  “Hush, you old goat.” Abby, a maid in the Reyson home, took the child from the surgeon. “Cap’n Reyson, kiss your wife, tell her she done good, and scoot, because I need to give her a bath, and then I suggest you get us back to the docks, because Mrs. Reyson needs rest.”

  “Oh, but I want to stay here.” Rose yawned, as he bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. Of course, her plea did not surprise him, because she loved the life. “And we have a bargain.”

  “My dear, I did as you asked, and our child is born on the ocean.” Of course, she negotiated everything in their marriage, which had its benefits, because she rarely considered what he would demand in return, and he did his best to stretch the limits of her imagination. A well-bred woman was no match for a ruthless pirate. A thunderous clap rumbled overhead, signaling an approaching storm, and Turner frowned. “I did not agree to anything more.” To Thwaites and Abby, Turner said, “Tend my wife, and prepare her to be moved, and I will take my babe. The crew will sail us to the leeward side of the island, nearer our home, so we can lower the jolly boat, and I can tuck my bride safely in our bed, sooner than later.”

  “But, Turner.” Rose deployed her pout, which usually bended him to her will, a fact of which he suspected she was well aware. “Please.”

  “No.” At her whimper, he rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I will make it up to you, once you have healed, but you do not want to remain aboard the Malevolent, in a blistering tempest, in your condition. Do you not recall the trip around the Horn?”

  “Oh, all right.” Her petulant countenance almost broke him, and he resolved to send a swab to fetch her favorite coconut toto dessert from a restaurant in Port Royal. “I will make you a bargain, in exchange for my cooperation.”

  “My dear, unless it has escaped your notice, you are in no position to negotiate anything.” To the maid, Turner flicked his wrists. “What is it you want?”

  “Easy, Cap’n.” Abby cradled the infant’s head, as Turner held his babe for the first time. “You are a natural, sir.”

  “Do you remember the evening we spent in that charming little inn in Perranporth, when we visited your extended kin and the other descendants of the Pirates of Britannia?” She arched a brow, as if he could forget, because they did things that were illegal in some parts of the world, after he locked her in their room and stripped her naked. “And the hand-tooled desk?”

  Ah, it was good to be married to Rose.

  “My beloved bride, we have a pact.” And he was going to spoil her with flowers, gizzada, new mantuas made of the finest silks and velvets, and jewels.

  With naughty thoughts of his lady, and her succulent arse, swirling in his brain, he carried his child into the corridor and stopped. It dawned on him then that he had no idea whether he fathered a boy or a girl, because Rose did not mention either of the names she selected, after months of tortuous, seemingly endless discussion. After lifting the blanket, he noted the singular distinction and chuckled.

  Bursting with pride, and a love of which he had never thought himself capable, Turner returned to the waist, where the crew gathered. He glanced left and then right. “I have a son.”

  THE END

  The Sea Lyon

  Pirates of Britannia

  Hildie McQueen

  Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  IN THE YEAR of our Lord 854, a wee lad by the name of Arthur MacAlpin set out on an adventure that would turn the tides of his fortune, for what could be more exciting than being feared and showered with gold?

  Arthur wanted to be king. A sovereign as great as King Arthur, who came hundreds of years before him. The legendary knight who was able to pull a magical sword from stone, met ladies in lakes and vanquished evil with a vast following who worshipped him. But while that King Arthur brought to mind dreamlike images of a roundtable surrounded by chivalrous knights and the ladies they romanced, MacAlpin wanted to summon night terrors from every babe, woman and man.

  Aye, MacAlpin, king of the pirates of Britannia would be a name most feared. A name that crossed children’s lips when the candles were blown out at night. When a shadow passed over a wall, was it the pirate king? When a ship sailed into port in the dark hours of night, was it him?

  As the fourth son of the conquering Pictish King Cináed, Arthur wanted to prove himself to his father. He wanted to make his father proud, and show him that he, too, could be a conqueror. King Cináed was praised widely for having run off the Vikings, for saving his people, for amassing a vast and strong army. No one would dare encroach on his conquered lands when they would have to face the end of his blade.

  Arthur wanted that, too. He wanted to be feared. Awed. To hold his sword up and have devils come flying from the tip.

  So, it was on a fateful summer night in 854 that, at the age of ten and nine, Arthur amassed a crew of young and roguish Picts and stealthily commandeered one of his father’s ships. They blackened the sails to hide them
from those on watch and began an adventure that would last a lifetime and beyond.

  The lads trolled the seas, boarding ships and sacking small coastal villages. In fact, they even sailed so far north as to raid a Viking village in the name of his father. By the time they returned to Oban, and the seat of King Cináed, all of Scotland was raging about Arthur’s atrocities. Confused, he tried to explain, but his father would not listen and would not allow him back into the castle.

  King Cináed banished his youngest son from the land, condemned his acts as evil and told him he never wanted to see him again.

  Enraged and experiencing an underlying layer of mortification, Arthur took to the seas, gathering men as he went, and building a family he could trust that would not shun him. They ravaged the sea as well as the land—using his clan’s name as a lasting insult to his father for turning him out.

  The legendary Pirate King was rumored to be merciless, the type of vengeful pirate who would drown a babe in his mother’s own milk if she didn’t give him the pearls at her neck. But with most rumors, they were mostly steeped in falsehoods meant to intimidate. In fact, there may have been a wee boy or two he saved from an untimely fate. Whenever they came across a lad or lass in need, as Arthur himself had once been, they took them into the fold.

  One ship became two. And then three, four, five, until a score of ships with blackened sails roamed the seas.

  These were his warriors. A legion of men who adored him, respected him, followed him, and, together, they wreaked havoc on the blood ties that had sent him away. And generations upon generations, country upon country, they would spread far and wide until people feared them from horizon to horizon. Every pirate king to follow would be named MacAlpin, so his father’s banishment would never be forgotten.