Once a Mistress

by Debra Mullins

  “Dinna use that cold tone wi’ me, Alex. We’ve kent one another over long.”

  “But that gives you no leave to address me with such disrespect.”

  Birk lowered his voice so that it would not carry to the rest of the crew. “Ye might be a bloody earl now, but dinna think I canna beat ye in a fair fight.”

  Alex chuckled despite himself. “How about an unfair one?”

  Birk slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the best kind.”

  A moment of companionable silence stretched between them. “Birk, how long have we known each other?”

  “Ten years.” Birk gripped the rail as a swell rocked the ship. “It’s a long time tae put up wi’ yer stubbornness, I’ll give ye that.”

  At Birk’s irreverent words, Alex tried to look stern. He failed. “Has it been that long?”

  “Aye, and a fair trial it’s been keepin’ ye out o’ trouble.”

  “Keep me out of trouble? Who was it who saved your neck from Lady Burston’s irate husband?”

  “It wasna ma neck in danger that day, Alex. Many a wench has minded ye in her prayers for savin’ the manhood o’ Birk Fraser.”

  “Now that I recall, Lord Burston did seem intent on gelding you.”

  “It was worth the risk to have bedded Arabella Burston.” Birk said the name as if he savored the taste of it on his tongue. “Now there’s a wild wench. The hottest piece o’ goods in England.”

  “A wild wench? ‘Tis a fine name for the wife of so powerful a man as Lord Burston.”

  “Aye.” Birk rubbed his chest. “I still carry the scars from that she-cat’s claws.”

  “And I still carry the memory of you racing across the countryside with Burston firing his musket at your naked arse.”

  “It’s a blessin’ for the lasses the old fool was a poor shot,” Birk said with his usual lack of modesty.

  “Sail ho!”

  The cry from the crow’s nest snared Alex’s immediate attention. On the horizon he caught sight of a tiny white blur that represented the sails of a distant ship. He pulled out his spyglass.

  “There he is.” His heart pounded like a battle drum. Through the glass the blurry white image sharpened into a clear view of Marcus’s ship Renegade, her sails swollen with fair wind. “At last I have him right where I want him.”

  “How do ye ken it’s Marcus?”

  “I know.” Lowering the glass, he called out, “Clear the decks!”

  Men jumped into action. Some scrambled to clear all obstacles out of the way while others scattered sand on the decks to prevent anyone from slipping.

  A clatter of footsteps on the ladder preceded the arrival of the first mate. “Orders, captain?”

  “Loose the guns, McBride, and prepare to board to windward.”

  “Aye, captain.” The red-haired Irishman slipped back down the ladder. Seconds later his voice echoed across the decks, spurring a thunderous cacophony of sound as pairs of men unchained the cannons and rolled them into place at the gun ports.

  Birk sighed and turned from the rail. “I’d better get below and set out ma tools. Watch yer back, Alex.”

  “I will.” As Birk left the deck, Alex focused on the horizon. The Renegade loomed larger as they closed in on her.

  He thought of Diana Covington. Her proud bearing proved an irresistible lure for someone like Marcus, a murderer who reveled in destroying innocence. With the flat of his palm, he snapped his spyglass closed.

  He hoped he was in time.

  Diana stared at her captor in mounting terror. She had heard stories of Marcus and his horrible crimes. Theft. Ravishment. Murder. Enslaving his captives as doxies for his men. In each tale, the victim died a painful death.

  She wondered if she were next.

  Bile rose in her throat as she looked into his glittering green eyes. “What do you want of me?”

  He slipped his hand into the bodice of her torn night dress and squeezed her breast with cruel meaning. “I think you know.”

  She froze, her entire body rebelling at the touch of his callused hand on her flesh. She actually thought she might lose the contents of her stomach. Then he gave her nipple a hard pinch that jolted her from her shock. She jerked away from him and rolled toward the edge of the bed. His hand snaked out and caught a piece of her nightgown.

  “That was not very effective, was it?” Smiling, he yanked her back across the bed with one hard pull.

  Scroggins snickered. Marcus wrapped her night dress around his hand, slowly pulling her upper body off the bed. Grasping the back of her neck in a punishing grip, he ground his mouth against hers. He seemed to want to invade her, to take over her will and subjugate it to his.

  She refused to be dominated. Without thought to the consequences, she sank her teeth into the pirate’s lip.

  Marcus jerked back from her, blood trickling from his mouth. He stared deep into her eyes. Then a slow, pleased smile stretched across his face.

  “I see you have decided to play my game.”

  He released her head with teeth-rattling abruptness and straddled her. She struck at him with her bound hands, but he clasped her wrists in one hand and stretched them above her head. With the other he took hold of the tattered lace and tore open the night dress from neckline to hem.

  She screamed and squirmed. He restrained her easily, his eyes gleaming with frightening enjoyment. He forced her thighs apart. Scroggins stepped forward, peering past his captain for a better view. Marcus yanked open the buttons of his breeches.

  A horrendous explosion rent the air. The ship listed hard to the side, causing the brazier to tip over with a clatter of pokers. Shouts erupted on deck. Marcus snarled a vicious oath and glared at Scroggins.

  “Get up there and find out what is happening!”

  A fist pounded on the door before the mate could take a step. “Cap’n!” someone shouted. “‘Tis El Moreno!”

  “El Moreno!” Marcus shoved Diana aside, almost toppling her from the bed as he leapt to his feet. “This time I shall skin the miserable cur inch by wretched inch!” He fastened up his breeches as he stormed from the cabin, Scroggins scrambling after him.

  The door remained open in invitation.

  Diana wasted no time. She rolled off the bed, stumbling for an instant as the ship rocked again. She looked around the cabin and found what she sought in the form of a jeweled dagger on the gouged wooden table. She pulled it free with her bound hands.

  Seating herself on the floor, she held the dagger between her knees and sawed at her bonds. The rope tying her hands fell to the floor in pieces. Clutching the dagger in her hand, she stood and looked for something to wear. Her shredded night rail hung from her body in useless tatters. Her gaze fell on Marcus’s sea chest.

  The ship rolled again as she made her way to the wooden chest. Smashing open the lock with one of the pokers, she wrinkled her nose in disgust as she grabbed the first garments she laid her hands on. Though she loathed the thought of wearing the clothes of the man who had almost raped her, practicality won out over revulsion. Escape would prove impossible while stark naked.

  She dressed quickly in a white shirt of fine silk and a pair of brown velvet breeches. The legs of the breeches, which would normally be knee-length on a man, modestly covered her legs to the ankles. Finding the waist too wide, she knotted the rope that had bound her wrists and used it as a belt.

  She tucked the overlong tails of the shirt into the waist of the breeches, then grabbed a black leather vest to conceal her breasts. Twisting her hair into a loose knot atop her head, she jammed one of Marcus’s hats over it, effectively concealing her femininity from all but the most studious of glances. Then she took up the dagger.

  With one last, repulsed look at the bed she fled the cabin.

  “Fire!”

  Cannons boomed, sending acrid smoke drifting up from the gun ports. Alex watched with deep satisfaction as the shots hit their targets. Cries of alarm rose up from Marcus’s ship as a yellow fog from the smoke b
ombs spread across the main deck of the Renegade. A lazy sea breeze carried the putrid smell of sulfur to Alex’s nose.

  The helmsman controlled the ship with the tender deftness of a mother handling her babe, so easily did the Vengeance narrow the space between the two vessels. In minutes they had crept close enough for the crew to launch the grappling irons. The clawed irons snagged in the Renegade’s rigging, binding the two ships together. Some men swung over the small expanse of ocean on the grappling ropes while others simply dove over the side to climb like spiders on to the enemy ship.

  Alex called orders and paced the quarterdeck, his gaze scanning the battle on the opposite ship. His men engaged Marcus’s crew with the joy of true warriors. Shouts of pain and triumph rose up as the fighting escalated. Cutlasses flashed in the light of the rising sun. Alex watched, waiting for the first sight of Marcus, his hand itching to take up the sword that hung at his side.

  The discordant screams of the wounded rose above the clashing of steel. Against the eerie cloud of sulfur smoke the combatants appeared gruesome shadows dancing with death in the orange light of sunrise. Most of the fighting took place in the waist of the ship, the main deck. The upper decks appeared deserted, but a movement caught Alex’s eye. A small figure—a cabin boy, perhaps—darted across the quarterdeck of Marcus’s ship, heading for the side. A blond man with a bloody sword in his hand bounded after the lad.

  Alex strode to the side, gripped the rail and stared intently at the blond man. His pulse pounded as he recognized him. Clenching his hands into fists he jerked away, demanding a grappling rope. Someone shoved one into his hand. Battle fever raged through him as he plotted the trajectory for the grappling hook. All the while he kept his gaze on the blond man, who had cornered the smaller person on the quarterdeck.

  Marcus. At last.

  The sea was her only option.

  Diana reached for the rail, her fingers curling around the smooth wood with desperation. Jamaica loomed dark on the horizon, beckoning her to freedom. Footsteps sounded behind her. It had to be now. She could dive over the side and swim for shore, escaping both pirate vessels. And if she drowned, or if the sharks got her…

  Any fate was better than the one Marcus planned.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  Diana froze in the act of climbing the side. The hated voice resonated through her. She lowered her foot to the deck and turned to face Marcus. He looked well pleased with himself, and though he stood about two feet away, he was still close enough to grab her should she decide to follow through with her plan.

  Regret pierced her like cold steel through her heart. She thought with bitter humor how she had emerged through the hatch on the main deck and fought her way through the battling pirates, stumbling through foul-smelling smoke that stung her eyes and burned her throat only to be stopped here, mere seconds before she made her escape.

  She would die soon. Marcus’s smile, pure evil in the early morning sun, promised that much. First he would play with her, as a cat did a mouse before devouring it. While her own plan had courted death, the choice had been hers. Marcus gave no quarter. The pirate raised his blood-stained sword and stepped closer, taking in her appearance from top to toes. “Is this a woman before me or a pretty lad?” he mused. A flick of his sword sent her hat over the side, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “I almost did not recognize you, my dear. Surely you do not seek to deprive me of your company? We have yet to finish our game.”

  “I have.” She hid her revulsion as his greedy gaze skimmed her body. “There are other alternatives to submitting to you.” She pressed back against the rail as she spoke.

  “You would kill yourself over me?” A delighted smile spread across his face. “How touching. However, I must protest. I am not finished with you.”

  “I would take my chances.”

  He clucked his tongue like a teacher disappointed with his student. “No doubt there are sharks down there, hungry for a tasty morsel such as yourself. I shall have to convince you to stay.” He used his sword to lift a fiery curl from her shoulder, then brushed her ear with the flat of the blade.

  She shuddered as cool steel, sticky with blood, touched her flesh. Refusing to let him see her fear, she glared at him instead. “Kill me by sword or by sea. It matters not. At least I shall be free of you.”

  Marcus stared at her with startled admiration. “You are truly worthy of me, my dear. And a redhead as well.” One slash of his blade tore her shirt open. His greedy gaze took in the swell of her naked breasts. “I shall enjoy hearing your cries for mercy.”

  “And I shall enjoy depriving you of that pleasure,” she spat. Though every instinct screamed that she jerk the garment closed, she refused to reveal any weakness. She lifted her chin and met his eyes. “Well? How shall I die?”

  Seconds of silence ticked by as Marcus appeared to contemplate the question. Lowering his sword, he watched her with the unblinking concentration of a snake about to strike. “I have decided…”

  A rush of air drowned out the rest of his words. The impact of a hard male body against her back coincided with the brawny arm that curled around her waist, jerking her off her feet. She was swept through the air, the scents of sandalwood and sea teasing her memory. Her feet touched the deck once again, several yards from where Marcus had cornered her. Gasping for the breath that had been squeezed from her lungs, she looked up into the dark eyes of her savior. Recognition made her jaw drop.

  “You!”

  Chapter Four

  Alex grinned down at Diana, his blood pounding with the thrill of battle. “A pleasure to see you again, my sweet.” He pried loose her fingers where they clenched his black cambric shirt. “Do try to control your lusty impulses until we have more privacy.”

  Outrage darkened her gray eyes to smoke, but a furious yell grabbed his attention away from her. He turned to confront the rage twisting Marcus’s face as the pirate flew at him with sword flashing. Shoving Diana behind him, Alex drew his own sword and met steel with steel. He gave Marcus a derisive smile as they remained poised in a punishing position: shoulder against shoulder, swords crossed, muscles straining.

  “El Moreno, you filthy swine! You have finally shown your cowardly face!” Marcus’s eyes bulged as he leaned his strength into his shoulder in an obvious play to force Alex off balance.

  Alex bent his knees and then shoved the pirate with the power of his entire body. Marcus stumbled back, breaking them apart. Sucking in a cleansing breath, Alex relaxed into a more traditional stance, sword extended. “You pox-ridden bastard, I’ll see you in Hell this night!”

  Marcus’s laughter echoed out over the water as he, too, took up the dueling position. “Give the devil my regards, my friend. You shall meet him before I will.” He attacked.

  The scrape of metal hitting metal sounded like music to Alex. He beat back Marcus’s sword and made a thrust of his own. The pirate nimbly avoided it. An unholy smile stretched across Alex’s face. “After I kill you, I’ll scuttle your ship and use it for kindling.” He threw himself into the duel.

  Diana pressed herself against the side of the ship, her trembling fingers clenching on the rail like a lifeline as the two men slashed and dodged mere paces away from her. Her mind spun with the implications of what she had just learned.

  ‘Twas no dream. The bold rogue who had kissed her last evening was none other than El Moreno, the infamous pirate.

  Steel clanged against steel as the two men battled. Diana found herself unable to take her gaze from Alex, her own fantasy come to life. For each vicious thrust and swipe of Marcus’s sword, Alex knew the correct maneuver to either avoid or return the blow. The muscles of his thighs bunched and relaxed with each leap away from the blade. His sinewy shoulders rippled beneath the black material of his shirt every time he swung his weapon. She caught her breath over and again, certain his life was about to end. But somehow he always avoided death with mere seconds to spare. He smiled as he parried Marcus’s attacks, making it clear that
he reveled in the fight. His teeth gleamed in a feral smile as the two blades flashed.

  A toss of the ship sent Diana staggering. Bracing herself with the rail of the quarterdeck, she slowly sank into a sitting position. Her damaged shirt gaped open, and she tied the ends together with fumbling fingers for some semblance of modesty. Then she pulled up her knees and rested her chin on them, wrapping her arms around her bent legs. The suppressed fear from her confrontation with Marcus had sapped the very strength from her limbs.

  A furtive movement to her right caught her attention. She turned to see Scroggins, Marcus’s hideous henchman, creeping up the ladder from the deck below. He did not see her sitting just to his left, for his eyes were fixed on Alex’s back. The wickedly sharp dagger between his teeth proclaimed his intention.

  Diana knew the exact instant when Marcus spotted Scroggins. The pirate sneered and gave a brutal thrust, causing Alex to jump back.

  “‘Tis a beautiful morning to die,” Marcus hissed. “Any last requests?” Not by the flicker of an eyelash did he betray the man creeping up behind his opponent.

  Alex parried the next thrust. “My only request is to see your bones rattling in the wind!”

  Marcus laughed. The sound sent a shudder down Diana’s spine. After a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, she pulled forth from concealment the blade she had stolen from Marcus’s cabin. She clenched her fingers around it as the shadow that was Scroggins crept past her hiding place. She braced herself, then with a cry of alarm she leaped at the seaman.

  Alex glanced over at the commotion. Diana stood toe to toe with a scarred member of Marcus’s crew, waving a blood-stained dagger before the stunned seaman’s eyes. The cur was swearing and clutching his arm to his chest. Blood trickled from between his fingers.

  A stirring of air alerted Alex as Marcus took advantage of his momentary distraction and slashed at his mid-section. Alex whirled away, but a hiss of pain escaped his lips as the pirate’s sword sliced across his ribs. The wound throbbed, but at least he still lived. He came out of the turn to meet Marcus blade to blade.