The Pirate’s Bluestocking

by Bowlin, Chasity

  “It was a very long time ago. The limp is permanent, I fear.”

  He frowned at that. “I see. And do you not have a walking stick?”

  Kitty grimaced thinking of the custom-made walking stick with the intricately carved head. “It’s gone,” she admitted ruefully.

  He nodded and offered his arm for her to lean on. “Take your time. I assume Samford took your walking stick to keep you from running away?”

  “No. I hit him with it and it broke,” she admitted. It was a strange thing that she had absolutely no guilt over such a thing. She’d never struck another human being before in her life. But in that moment, when she’d brought her cane crashing down on him, it had felt good. So good, that she’d been disappointed that the cane broke and she didn’t get to hit him again.

  His answering grin was wicked and ridiculously appealing. Despite the heavy beard and the wicked scar, it was obvious that he was a handsome man. His laughing eyes and the perfect smile were proof of that. He’s a pirate. Reminding herself of that fact did nothing to calm the strange fluttering of her heart. Surely not. Surely, after years of being completely impervious to the wiles and charms of every fortune hunter who’d ever sought her out, she would not be experiencing such a compelling attraction to a man who was not just unsuitable but criminal.

  “We should be able to come up with something that will work in the interim,” he offered. “In the meantime, you may lean on me as much as you wish. I am at your disposal, Kitty.”

  She had no other choice. It was either accept his assistance or stand there leaning against that cart forever. Reluctantly, Kitty allowed him to support most of her weight as they walked forward. She had been cramped in the carriage, then the cart, and she had run so hard and so far in Stoke-on-Trent that her muscles were screaming in protest. It would likely take her days to recover.

  They’d taken no more than a few steps in the direction of the main thoroughfare of the bustling port town when he abruptly halted them and turned to look out toward the harbor. “Do you see the carriage coming down the way?” he asked.

  “I do,” she replied.

  “Is there a man inside in a heavily-powdered wig? One that’s decades out of date?” he asked.

  Kitty, whose spectacles were long since gone, squinted at the carriage in question. She could barely see anything at all. “There is someone inside it, but I can’t make out anything about his appearance.”

  The man beside her bit out a curse and then turned abruptly, sweeping Kitty into his arms. He buried his hands in her tangled hair and crushed her against her chest until she could scarcely breathe. He smelled of salt and sea, of something intrinsically masculine and she would have been lying if she said that she didn’t find herself enjoying his embrace to some degree. But as he made no move to kiss her and, instead, simply used the wild mass of her hair to further camouflage his face as he peered at the carriage, she understood immediately that the random show of affection was nothing more than subterfuge to allow him a better view.

  “Damn and blast,” he muttered.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The man I needed you to seduce—”

  She gasped. “You said flirt! Only flirt. At no time did you mention actual seduction!” Her indignant protestation was muffled by thick wall of muscle that comprised his chest as he continued to hold her there.

  “Relax! I hardly mean that you should whore yourself to him. Seduction, Kitty, is a great deal more than simply fu—fornicating,” he finished. “And now, it seems I am to make a liar of myself… I said I wouldn’t bring a woman on my ship because they are naught but trouble.”

  Kitty frowned as he abruptly stepped back from her. “You mean you’ll take me to Bath?”

  “No, but I’ll take you to Cornwall and once we’ve taken care of the business I need to finish there, I’ll see that you get on to Bath safely. It’s the best I can do. But you must do exactly as I ask of you,” he warned.

  Could it be any worse than what she’d already been through? Kitty nodded reluctantly. “I’ll help you with your task and you’ll see that I am returned to my father’s house in Bath. But what if we fail at your task?”

  “I’ll see that you get to Bath regardless,” he vowed. “I might be a pirate, but I’m not a villain. Not always, at any rate.”

  Declan was in trouble. And as always, a woman was at the root of it. He’d been fine until he’d held her, until he’d felt the softness of her pressed against him and silken strands of her hair wrapping about his fingers. She was half-lame, half-blind, and he didn’t give a bloody damn. He wanted her. And now he was about to be onboard a ship with her… his ship… his cabin. For likely seven days and seven long, bitter nights, he would be tempted by her. If ever there was a woman he should not entangle himself with, it was his mysterious Kitty with no family name given.

  Kidnapped by his enemy, stowed away in his cart, witness to a murder his brother-in law-committed, and now set to engage in an act that could see them both dead—it was a disaster in the making.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you aboard ship.” Before I talk myself out of it after giving my word.

  “Which ship is yours?”

  “Oh, she’s not here. Can’t sail a pirate ship into the harbor of a respectable place like Ellesmere, can we? She’s moored off the coast to the south. We’ll go by rowboat for a bit until we reach her.”

  Her face blanched. “Oh. Is it a small boat?”

  “It’s a rowboat,” he said. “It’s not large. Are you afraid of the water?”

  “No. But I am very afraid of drowning. I can’t swim. And that is a small boat on very large water… and that seems that it would dramatically increase one’s likelihood of drowning.”

  Declan laughed in spite of himself, and then once more offered his arm for her to lean on. “I won’t let you drown, Kitty. I promise. Now, are you ever going to tell me your full name or must I make something up?”

  “Why must you know?” she demanded as she placed her hand on his arm and walked with him toward the small boat that was now currently loaded with all the brandy and other items he’d brought with him from Stoke-on-Trent.

  “I’m curious. If you’re on my ship, I should at least know who you are,” he reasoned.

  She sighed. “If I tell you, it’ll change things.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “You might decide that ransoming me back to my father is a sound idea, after all,” she admitted. “And despite everything that’s happened, I’m not overly eager to be reunited with him.”

  “That requires explanation,” he pointed out as they reached the steps that led down to the jetty.

  “I want to be home… in our townhouse in Bath, surrounded by my books and eating lemon cakes from our incomparable cook. But I don’t necessarily want to see my father. And I doubt very seriously, other than the embarrassment it might cause him and the inconvenience of having to deal with being in mourning, he’d be perfectly content if I didn’t return,” she said.

  There was no sadness in her. She spoke about it very matter of factly. “Does he really care so little?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “He’s told me as much. When other girls were having their debuts and learning to waltz, he sneered at me and said that it would have been better if the carriage accident that broke my leg had managed to do enough injury to end my miserable life. It would have been less of an embarrassment to him that way.”

  Declan was utterly horrified. He wanted to find her father and knock the bastard on his arse. “What’s your name Kitty?”

  “Wyverne. My father is Samuel Wyverne. I assume you’ve heard of him.”

  Declan let out a sigh. Trouble, indeed. More trouble than he needed or wanted. And yet, after what she’d just told him, he’d not turn his back on her. Too many people had already. “I’ve heard of him. And you, also. The bluestocking heiress.”

  “Not much of a bluestocking now,” she said. “I can’t even see t
o read anything without my spectacles.”

  He smiled then. “We’ll see what we can do about that, as well.”

  Declan helped her into the small rowboat, settling her amongst the casks and barrels much the way she had been in the carriage. Then he seated himself and picked up a set of oars along with his two of his crewmen. The more of them that rowed, the faster they’d get there. He meant to make the tide and beat Livingston to Bodmin. Lives depended on it. If Kitty Wyverne was too much of a distraction, he’d just remind himself of what was riding on the outcome of their caper.

  Three not quite innocent men he counted as friends would die by the noose if he failed.

  Chapter Three

  The journey along the coastline in the small rowboat had effectively ended Kitty’s fatigue. In its stead, she only felt stark terror. Every time the small vessel had dipped and swayed with a strong wave, she’d bit back a whimper. Her knuckles had gone white gripping the edges of the boat. But at last, they’d reached his ship. The name painted on the side of the ship was in a foreign tongue, most likely Irish.

  “What is the name of your ship?” she asked.

  “Roughly translated, it is Sweet Colleen.”

  Named after a woman, she thought. Of course, it had been. He was clearly a man who knew his way about them and it would have been foolish to think that there was anything romantic or intimate in the embrace they’d shared. It had been an expedient disguise for him and nothing more. “I see. It’s a lovely ship.”

  And it was. Everything on it gleamed in the sunlight. It was also very large. In fact, it looked more like a naval ship than a pirate ship. A hint of suspicion crept in. “How exactly did you obtain this ship?”

  “I inherited it,” he replied. “From my uncle. As to how he obtained it? Sometimes it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Stolen,” she said.

  “It’s sort of what we do… pirate and all that,” he answered with a grin.

  “It looks like a naval vessel!”

  “It might have been, though probably not our navy. I believe it was liberated from the French. Does that make it more palatable to you?”

  It did, actually, but she refrained from saying so. “How do we get up there from here?”

  “I climb, they climb… and you, I’ll fasten a sling and haul you up.”

  “I can climb,” Kitty insisted. She didn’t especially want to. In fact, considering the height of the ship and that a watery grave surely awaited her below, it was the last thing she wanted to do. But his assumption that she was incapable angered her.

  “I’m certain you can, but I also know that you are tired, hungry, you’ve been bounced and jostled cross country for days. If you fall into the water, as cold as it is, and as heavy as that wool dress is, you’ll sink like a stone before anyone can reach you.” He laid out the rather harsh reality in a way that was entirely matter of fact.

  Kitty wasn’t foolish enough to argue the point after that statement. Instead, she gave a curt nod of acquiescence. She detested feeling helpless and, for days, since Samford had pulled her into that hired carriage, she’d felt that endlessly. And now she’d made a devil’s bargain with a man she had no notion of whether or not she could trust. He hadn’t behaved dishonorably toward her yet, but that didn’t mean he would not.

  Two heavy ropes dropped down from the looming ship and a rope ladder followed. The two men who’d loaded the supplies earlier worked silently as they secured the small rowboat to the larger ship. They clambered up the rope ladder, leaving her alone with her pirate once more.

  As they reached the top, another rope was dropped down, this one with a small bit of board tied onto it. Kelly, as he’d bade her call him, made a sturdy loop at the end of it and then slipped it over her body until the wooden seat was nestled just beneath her bottom. The close contact made her breath catch and made her realize again just how little she knew of him. But a traitorous voice inside her whispered that she wanted to know very much more.

  “When I pull you up,” he said, his voice gruff and sharp, “you hold on to the rope with both hands. Keep your back straight and your knees bent so that you don’t fall out of the sling. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  He turned and moved away from her quickly, climbing the rope ladder with grace and ease. A terrible thought entered Kitty’s mind then. What if he didn’t pull her up? What if he got to the top and simply left her there?

  Christ Almighty, she would be the death of him! It had been impossible to miss that she had a deliciously curved figure with generous hips and a bosom that even a blind man would be hard-pressed to miss. But standing so close to her, seeing the fine satin texture of her skin, feeling the curves of her no doubt lovely behind as he’d secured the sling about her, had sent blood rushing in his veins and pooling in very unfortunate places for him at the moment.

  Willing his body to return to a neutral state, he climbed steadily until he could swing one leg over the railing and plant his feet firmly on the deck. The faint roll and pitch of the ship beneath him had become second nature. In truth, he felt more steady there than on land. Looking over the edge, he saw her looking up at him, her hands clutching the rope and a forlorn expression on her face. Did she really think he’d leave her behind?

  Recalling what she’d said of her father and the fact that the man she’d come closest to marrying was Samford, it wasn’t easy to reach the conclusion that she had.

  “Hang on!” he shouted down to her.

  “You bringin’ us a woman, Captain? Don’t look like no whore I’ve ever seen!” one of the crew said and chortled at his humor.

  “You’ll mind your manners and mind your tongue. She is a lady and will be treated accordingly. She has agreed to help us with Livingston in exchange for safe passage to her home in Bath. You’ll not importune her in any way while she is on board this ship,” Declan snapped.

  The crewman, chastened, ducked his head. “Aye, Captain. Won’t bother her at all!”

  Declan said nothing more on the subject as he and one of the men who’d journeyed to meet him Ellesmere slowly hoisted her up. She’d have to stay confined to his cabin. His men, for the most part, were a good lot. Pirate or no, he’d trust them with his life. But he’d not make the mistake of trusting them with her virtue.

  Perhaps she’s not an innocent. So long as she’s willing, there’d be no harm in bedding her.

  He steadfastly ignored the insidious little whisper in his mind. There’d be harm a plenty. A woman like Kitty Wyverne wouldn’t part her thighs without first parting her lips to recite vows, and he had no intention of taking a wife. That sort of life was over him and had been the moment he’d accepted his inheritance from his uncle. And as soon as he could manage to free the remainder of his men, they’d set sail for a warmer climate and whatever riches the high seas could bring them.

  Chapter Four

  It had been hours since they’d boarded the ship. In that time, she’d been shown to the captain’s cabin, placed inside it and the door firmly locked behind her. From the porthole, she’d watched men swinging in the rigging and over the side of the boat, others still hauling up the crates, casks and barrels that had been in the small rowboat with them. Kitty was growing angrier by the minute. Was she a prisoner yet again? Had she truly managed to trade one captor for another and in such quick succession?

  A knock sounded on the door, sudden and abrupt. It was followed by the sound of a key scraping in the lock and then the same two men who’d been in the small boat with them entered. Between them, they carried a copper hip bath which they placed before the small iron stove. They left again and then returned carrying buckets of water. Two trips in and out, the door locked each time. Neither of them said a word.

  Kitty eyed the steaming pails of water and the small tub with something akin to glee. She hadn’t had a bath since Samford had taken her. Did she dare? Another thought crept in. What if it wasn’t meant for her at all? What
if it was meant for the captain? Surely he wouldn’t think to bathe with her right there in his cabin! Of course, he might. She knew nothing of him, she reminded herself.

  After a couple of minutes, watching the steam rise from the water, Kitty decided she didn’t care. Turning to the large trunk at the end of the bed, she lifted the lid and found several drying cloths and some soap. Taking both with her, she placed them beside the tub and filled it liberally, leaving enough of the water that she might be able to rinse the soap from her hair after washing it. Quickly disrobing, she climbed into the small copper vessel and let out a blissful sigh.

  The warm water was a balm to her battered body and the aching muscles. Had it been her tub at home, she could have stretched out fully. As it was, she would take what she could get. The very thought of being clean, of no longer being coated in a layer of dust and mud from the road, was blissful to her.

  A sigh escaped her as she lifted one of the cloths she’d liberated from her pirate captain’s trunk and began to lather soap on it. She might be locked in, she might very well be a prisoner, but at least she’d be a clean one and that soothed her spirits more than anything else had thus far.

  “Did you fill the tub for her?”

  “No,” Davies said in his typically taciturn fashion.

  “Did you at least take her towels and soap for washing?” Declan asked.

  “No,” Davies replied again.

  “Did you say anything to her at all while you were in my cabin?” Declan demanded, about to lose patience with the only two men on the ship he actually trusted with her.

  “No, sir, we didn’t. You didn’t tell us to.” That had come from Davies’ brother, Jeffers.

  “I asked you to provide her whatever she might need so that she could have a bath,” Declan answered. “That typically involves soap, towels, a tub filled with water and some communication that said the water was for her use.”

  Jeffers shrugged nonchalantly. “Didn’t tell us all that.”