The Wild Belle (St. John Series)

by Lora Thomas

  Michael studied the building. It appeared to be a rundown shed from the road, but when they approached he could make out the renovations in progress.

  “It became damaged in a hurricane last fall. Several of us pitch in to help when we can but . . . well . . . it’s—” Michael watched as the younger man began to squirm in his saddle as he was telling the tale.

  “Not a place respectable gentlemen should enter,” Michael finished for him.

  “Precisely. Now don’t get me wrong, the Colonel has some fine women in his place and the best whiskey in Beaufort County, but there are some rough customers that enter it from time to time.”

  “Traveling like I do, I imagine I have been in rougher establishments.”

  “Yes, I’d say you have. So you have been all over the world?”

  “Yes. China is a trip I have no desire to take again. The voyage was entirely too long. So any business arrangements that need to be handled there I let Noah handle, since he doesn’t mind being at sea for that long. I’ve also been to Egypt, Italy, Spain, France, many African ports, England and up and down North and South America.”

  “Well, then, Colonel Red’s probably will seem tame compared to the taverns along all those coasts.”

  “Yes. Nothing can quite compare to the establishments of Singapore. Those were some of the roughest I have been into, even compared to those of the Caribbean.”

  “Are there really pirates still down there?”

  “Yes, but not like it used to be. My sister was even abducted by the same one, twice.”

  “Really?!”

  “Yes, weeks apart. But her husband killed the man. He was a thorn in Emerald Shipping’s side. I can’t tell you how thrilled we were to learn that Alexander Xavier had been killed.”

  Stephen looked wide-eyed at Michael. “You have an interesting family history, Michael.”

  “You have no idea,” Michael replied drily as he dismounted from Ghost. He tied his horse to the post outside the damaged tavern and followed Stephen inside.

  When Michael and Stephen entered the building, there was a round of “Hellos” from the patrons inside. Apparently, Stephen frequented this establishment regularly. Michael studied the inside of the tavern. The scent of moldy wood caused Michael to glance upward. He could make out the patchwork of new wood over the damaged roof. However, there were still several small holes. Buckets were scattered about on the floor to catch any water that should enter through the holes in the roof. To the right was a set of stairs leading to the rooms over the bar that were so important to any tavern. Several barmaids scurried down the rickety stairs at that time. Some sashayed to the bar while others greeted the patrons inside. There was a squeal of delight and then a crash as one of the makeshift tables fell over. Most of the tables were just boards lying on top of sawhorses, while others were barstools covered in brown tablecloths. Other than those minor issues, the establishment appeared clean.

  They made their way to the bar. The man behind the bar placed two glasses in front of the men and poured them both a shot of whiskey. “For the groom-to-be,” the man said as he laughed. “I’ll have a case in the back for after the wedding. Lord knows with Miss Mandy as a mother-in-law, you’ll need it.”

  There was an astounding agreement though the entire tavern. Michael watched the bartender study him. The man behind the bar had a full head of bluish-gray hair and a matching beard that rested on his chest. He was much shorter than average. His blue eyes had faded with time, but there was humor in them.

  “Who’s this?” the man asked Stephen.

  “Oh,” Stephen replied, downing the amber liquid. He motioned towards his glass again. “Colonel, may I introduce Michael St. John. His family owns a shipping company, and he is here to set up a trade route for our fine cotton.”

  “Is that so?” the Colonel asked and rubbed his long gray beard. He poured another shot of whiskey into Stephen’s glass. “So he’s staying with you?”

  Stephen downed the beverage. “Heavens, no,” Stephen replied as he motioned towards his glass for another refill. “You know my mother appalls company of any sort. No, he’s staying with—get ready for this—the Craycrafts.”

  “The hell he is?” the Colonel questioned. Red looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head and began looking Michael up and down.

  “Is that a problem?” Michael asked, his eyes lowering to slits.

  The Colonel held up his hands in a friendly gesture. “Not trying to insult you, mister, but I wouldn’t stay in that house if every one of those women had on chastity belts and I was a peckerless eunuch. No, sir, Miss Mandy would castrate anyone looking ‘inappropriately’ towards any of her girls. Hell, I’m surprised she hasn’t killed this young cockerel here yet,” he said as he gestured his thumb towards Stephen.

  “My family’s reputation makes me . . . me . . . well, damn it all, you know my father is a preacher.”

  “Yeah, and look where yer sittin’,” the Colonel said and laughed. “I believe you spent more money on my girls than your mama does on dresses.”

  “I do say, that was when I was younger. I haven’t touched a single one since I stated courting Abigail.”

  “Younger?! Hell, yer only what—nineteen? Twenty?”

  “I’ll have you know I’m twenty-two.”

  “Still wet behind the ears,” the Colonel replied. “She’ll have ya henpecked just like Mandy does Ott before ya know it.”

  “I don’t think Ott’s henpecked, I think he’s just smart enough to know better than to cross his wife,” another patron yelled across the tavern.

  “Here now!” Stephen protested, turning to address the room, “I’ll have you know that is my future in-laws you’re insulting and I—”

  “Now, Stephen, you know we’re only pokin’ fun at ya,” the Colonel interjected. “We’d all stop anything we were doin’ to help that entire family and you know it.” Colonel Red smiled and laughed. “Yer jest so easy to get riled up. It’s an opportunity we jest cain’t pass up.”

  Turning to the bar owner, Stephen nodded his head in acceptance of the only type of apology he would ever get from Colonel Red.

  “Now,” the Colonel stated as he looked at Michael. “Where ya hail from?”

  “My family resides in the Caribbean.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. On a little place called Eleuthera.”

  “I’ve heard of that place. Some of those Brits took some of our property and sold it down there. Yer family didn’t have any part in that, did they?”

  Michael could sense the tension in the tavern at the touchy subject that Colonel Red had just broached. “No, we weren’t involved in those illegal transactions. Actually, during the war between England and the Colonies, Emerald Shipping was only a small operation at that time, making runs to South America for spices, although we did occasionally transport indigo from here to New Providence. But that was only a time or two. I believe we had only two ships at that time.” His explanation seemed to appease the men in the tavern.

  “So what do ya ship now?” the Colonel asked.

  “Whatever needs transported, as long as it’s legal. We have twelve vessels in our fleet. Most are large three-mast ships that are able to travel the world.”

  The Colonel made a low whistle. “That takes a lot of blunt to have that many ships. Ya sure ya ain’t transportin’ nothing illegal?”

  Michael lowered his deep voice. “I assure you that no illegal activities have ever transpired within my family’s company.”

  A twinkle appeared in the Colonel’s eyes. “Yer jest like him,” he said and pointed towards Stephen. “Ya can’t handle a ribbin’.” He poured another glass of whiskey for Michael. “It’s on the house for staying with the Craycrafts, which makes you the bravest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever known.” The toast was followed by laughter from everyone in the tavern.

  “What’s all this ruckus about?” came a voice from the doorway.

  Michael turned quickly
towards the door at the familiar voice. He stared in disbelief as he watched his pixie enter as though she’d done this many times in the past.

  “Andi, what brings you about?” the Colonel asked.

  “Hello, Colonel. I have a score to settle with Higgins,” Andi answered, sashaying towards the table in the corner. She turned the chair around and sat down in the seat backwards. “You cheated. I want a rematch.”

  Higgins smiled. “Now, Andi, you didn’t say I couldn’t throw things at ya while we were playin’.”

  “It was implied,” she said as she smacked the man’s arm. She stood up and walked towards the back of the tavern. “I challenge you to a rematch of cornhole.” She turned then and noticed Michael at the bar. A look of surprise, then haughtiness crossed her face. “Evenin’, Earl.”

  “His names not Earl, it’s—” the Colonel began before Andi interrupted him.

  “I know what his name is! Earl is just his title,” she stated smugly knowing how this group of men disliked the English. Most had either battled, been captured, or lost family members during the War. A supercilious smile crossed her face as she tossed her head and walked out the door.

  “Ya titled, too?” the Colonel stated, echoed by Stephen’s, “You’re a lord?”

  Michael sighed in frustration. Just what this group of individuals needed, more ammunition against him. He could sense their hatred towards England. “No. I do not have a title. My father is an Earl, yes. And his title will go to my oldest brother, Eli. But he is not very welcome in England since he only occasionally attends the meetings at the House of Lords and never makes appearances at any social functions.”

  Before anyone could reply to his statement, Andi called, “If you’re comin’, then come on. Or do I get to tell everyone that you cheated and were afraid of a rematch because ya know you’ll lose.”

  “I’m comin’, Andi. Christ. Don’t get yerself all riled up,” Higgins answered. Standing, he walked towards the back, the other patrons following on his heels.

  “Come on. This I’ve got to see,” Stephen told Michael as he followed the group.

  When they exited the back of the tavern, Michael noticed two wooden boards set up in the back. Each board had the back end elevated and a hole cut near the top of each board. He watched Andi bend over and her brown pants pulled tight over her backside. He swallowed hard. She was a tantalizing woman. She picked up four black bags and tossed them at Higgins.

  Stephen walked over to Andi and leaned over. He whispered low into her ear, so no one could hear, “Thought you were tending Nellie?”

  She turned and smiled sweetly at her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Just an excuse. Sally told me the Earl was comin’ for supper and I don’t want to socialize with him.” Her green eyes darkened a shade. “Can you believe that my parents have me engaged to him?”

  Stephen looked at her with confusion in his eyes. “I think you’re mistaken—”

  “No! I know who he is. Now, I must make myself as unappealing as possible so he will not want to marry me.” She turned away from Stephen and picked up the remaining corn-filled bags.

  Stephen smiled maliciously at Andi. If she thought Michael was the Peterson’s nephew, he was not going to correct her. She had teased him mercilessly and pulled too many pranks on him for him to forget. Now, it was time for his revenge. He looked Michael’s way. In no way did that handsome man resemble the Peterson’s homely nephew.

  He walked away and stood with Michael. He wanted to see this rematch. Higgins always won at cornhole. Stephen knew that Andi had been practicing. He would watch the match and then escort Michael back to the Double Oasis. Then maybe sneak a visit with his lovely fiancée.

  Chapter Seven

  Michael watched the lovely blond-haired woman. She took a slow, deep breath and held it, and with an underhand toss, sent the tan corn-filled sack sailing towards the wooden plank. The sack hit with a loud rattling thud and slid into the hole. A cat-like smile crossed her sensuous lips. She tilted her head cockily towards her opponent and held up her final sack.

  “That slider makes us tied. And I have one bag left,” she taunted arrogantly.

  “You’ll miss, Andi. Ya always do,” Higgins countered.

  Andi just smiled sweetly at the man. Turning to face the board, she took another slow deep breath, concentrating on the task at hand. She drew her arm back to toss the sack, but Higgins began coughing loudly. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. He continued coughing. She turned her head towards him.

  “Are you quite finished?” she asked, annoyance apparent in her voice. Higgins grinned sheepishly at Andi and nodded his head. “Oh, and, Higgins, if you cheat, it’s an automatic win for me.”

  Higgins loudly groaned while Andi took her position. Bouncing the sack several times in her hand, she accustomed her reflexes to the weight. She took a breath and tossed the sack. It landed on the board and slid past the hole towards the edge. Andi cringed as she watched her sack slide towards the edge and then stop just before sliding off. A triumphant smile flashed across her face.

  “I believe that point makes me the winner,” she said proudly, looking at Higgins.

  “Rematch,” Higgins retorted.

  Andi shook her head. “Oh, no, but I’ll take what you owe me,” she said as she walked over to Higgins and looked up to him.

  “Awww now, Miss Andi. Are ya really holding me up ta that ol’ bet we made last month?”

  “Yes. Now go on. I’m sure the fellas would love ta see it, too.”

  “Ya know I’ll get even with ya fer this, right?”

  “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before you make a bet with me. Now, if you please . . . ,” Andi said as she gestured towards the center of the circle.

  Higgins took a frustrated breath and walked into the tavern. Michael watched with avid curiosity as the scrawny man disappeared into the building, wondering what was going to transpire. A few minutes later, Higgins returned wearing a bright pink dress over top of his dirty clothing. He had his face painted gaudily with makeup, and his long greasy black hair was pulled up with purple ribbons on each side of his head. Glaring at Andi, he walked past her.

  “And, Higgins, make it a happy tune, too,” Andi yelled at the man.

  Whistles could be heard coming from the prostitutes out of the upstairs window. The group of men tossed names at him, some gave catcall whistles, but all were laughing.

  Higgins stood in the center of the group and began singing a song and dancing like a ballerina. He twirled one direction, then the other. His performance lasted several minutes. As soon as it was finished, he tossed the dress off and stormed back into the tavern mumbling under his breath. The group of men followed after him, teasing him about his performance.

  Michael watched the last man enter the tavern and turned to find Andi had not followed the group in.

  “That was quite an interesting wager you had there,” Michael said, approaching her.

  Michael’s comment caused her to jump and drop the sacks she had collected from the ground. “Oh, uh . . . yes, it was,” she replied while she continued to pick up the sacks, attempting to avoid talking with the man.

  “I’m curious. If he had to dress and act like a tavern wench for losing, what would you have had to do?”

  Andi stood up and turned to face the man. His handsomeness caused her to momentarily forget where she was. Never in all her years had she seen a more attractive man. The light from the lanterns set up around the boards caused shadows to dance over his silhouette. A breeze caught a lock of his hair and blew it over his forehead. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

  “The same,” she replied.

  “That’s hardly fair.”

  “No, it would be the same humiliation. These boys know I don’t like dresses and most have never seen me in one,” she said nonchalantly as she walked over to a small wooden box by the door and dropped the corn sacks inside.

  Michael bent over and picked up one of the sacks
that she dropped and tossed it her way. “So what type of woman wears trousers, prowls the woods looking for people to view unclothed, and hangs out in taverns?”

  Andi lowered her gaze to a slit and pivoted swiftly around to face him. “Just what are ya insinuatin’, your lordship?” she piqued.

  “I’m not implying anything. Just trying to figure you out. Are you a local tavern wench or just a farmer’s daughter looking for excitement?”

  “Why, you arrogant beast!” she shouted and picked up a corn-filled sack and threw it at him. He ducked and easily missed the projectile. She marched over to him and began poking him in his chest with her long dainty finger. The corner of his mouth curled with humor. She was taller than most women, but she still barely came to the top of his chest. Her demeanor made it clear his height did not intimidate her in the least.

  “I’ll have you know that I am none of those things. But you’ll find out soon enough just who I am. And I’ll have ya know this is how I act all the time, sa don’t go about tryin’ to change it with your fancy-smancy English lord rules.”

  A confused looked crossed Michael’s face. “What on this earth are you talking about?”

  “What? Didn’t your uncle tell you? We’re engaged, so don’t go about tryin’ to change me either.”

  “Engaged?!” Michael rebutted with shock. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”

  “Are you or are you not an Earl?”

  “I am not.”

  “Really. So no nobility in your bloodline anywhere?”

  “My father is an Earl, but I am not.”

  “See . . . you’re an Earl,” she angrily spat.

  Michael looked deep into her eyes and could see her fury. She obviously was against this marriage she was referring to. But how was he going to convince this woman that she had the wrong man.

  “Andi, I believe you have mistaken me for—”

  “No, I have not. And let me remind you again that I will not change for you or for any man.”

  “Let’s bet on it.”

  “What?”

  “It’s obvious that you like to make wagers.” Michael walked away from her and headed towards the wooden crate. He bent over and picked up one of the corn-filled sacks. “If you hit the hole, then I will let you carry on as you are accustomed to.”