by Honey Dover
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Never Trust a Pirate
Other Books by Honey Dover
About the Author
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Never Trust a Pirate
“Help me! Please!”
Susanna turned, surprised to hear someone calling out to her. She was in her family’s private garden where no one else was allowed, particularly not this late in the day. It was already beginning to grow dark, and the shadows gave the familiar trees and bushes a vaguely sinister look. For a moment, Susanna couldn’t find where the voice had come from. Then she spotted the stranger: a young woman her own age, hidden beneath a bougainvillea vine next to the wall.
She wore the clothes of a working woman or a tradesman’s wife. Her skirt had probably been dark red originally, but between the dirt staining it and the gloom of the early evening, it looked black – except for where it had been mended with brightly colored patches. Her shirt also was frayed and worn, not to mention mismatched and too big for her. It hung down on one side, almost falling off, revealing the strong line of her collarbone and the rich curve of her shoulder. Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem of her skirt. The woman’s skin was dark brown; that was common here in the Caribbean, which Susanna, newly arrived from England, was still getting used to. She wondered if she should be afraid. This strange woman clearly wasn’t one of the servants of the household, not if she was hiding in the garden. She must have climbed over the wall, or snuck in through some other way. However, she didn’t seem to be particularly dangerous, and Susanna told herself that it was foolish to be frightened by an unarmed woman.
“Who are you?” she asked, bending her head to better see underneath the flowery vine.
“Shhh!” the woman hissed, waving a hand at Susanna as though to scold her. “Can’t you see I’m hiding?”
Susanna was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, but she reminded herself that properly brought-up young ladies did not judge others. “Why are you hiding?”
“Because they’ll take me to jail – press me into service – they’ll hang me.”
“Surely not,” Susanna said, speaking encouragingly as she would to a young child. “You’ll work yourself into a fit if you indulge in all these irrational fears. Why would anyone want to hang you?” She considered it for a moment, then asked carefully, “You haven’t done anything illegal, have you?”
The woman stared at Susanna, a long, hard look that swept her from head to toe. Whatever she saw, she must have found it reassuring, because she edged slightly closer and her voice softened. “You look like a kind woman.”
Susanna smiled, then modestly forced the expression down and smoothed her hands against her skirts. “Well, I hope I am.”
The woman tipped her head to the side. There was a bright, mischievous look in her black eyes, but her voice was steady. “And you wouldn’t let them take me, would you? An innocent girl, a poor girl, with no one to defend her in all the world....”
“Of course not!” Susanna said firmly. “I’m sure that whatever’s happened, it’s all just a misunderstanding. There’s no need to worry; I’ll help you. What is it that you’ve been accused of?”
“Oh, you’ll never believe it!” The woman inched slightly closer. “They think I’m a pirate! A pirate captain, no less! Little ol’ me! Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard, miss?” She laughed; it was a surprisingly musical sound, like the tinkling of crystal bells. Susanna found herself laughing along.
“How foolish! Why, you hardly seem old enough to be married. And who could suppose that there would be a female pirate captain. It’s a silly idea, that’s what it is. Everyone knows that pirates are cruel and savage men, who would never allow a woman to lead them. Pirates have no respect or consideration for the gentler sex. And I should know; my father is Governor of this island, and he’s often had to deal with pirates.” Susanna straightened her back, proud of her place in the world. She made herself reach out and pat the woman on her bare shoulder, and tried not to think about what dirt she might be getting on her hand. “You come with me, and I’m sure that I can sort out this mistake.”
“No! I mean, please, no, miss.” The woman, who was much shorter than Susanna, looked up at her in surprise. She had a lovely heart-shaped face, Susanna thought. “Please don’t do that. Don’t tell anyone I’m here. They might not understand, you see. If you let me stay here tonight, I promise I’ll be gone as soon as the sun comes up. I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You’ll see.” She reached out a tentative hand as if she would lay it pleadingly on Susanna’s wrist, but pulled back at the last moment, too afraid to dare such an intimacy. She dropped her eyes also, and her lower lip trembled. “Please? Won’t you help me? I have no one else to turn to.” Her voice quavered slightly, and she turned her face away as though she was hiding tears.
“You poor dear,” Susanna whispered. Her heart felt as though it were melting in her chest; she was overcome with pity for this young woman and her plight. “Of course you may stay here. Dry your eyes. Come with me now –” she gestured for the woman to move out from beneath the bougainvillea “– and I’ll have a dinner made up for you. Don’t be afraid!” Susanna added quickly as the woman opened her mouth to protest. “No one will know of your presence except for my servants, and who would they tell? I won’t even speak of you to my own father. But I have to tell the servants, if you want to have dinner. You must be hungry. And afterwards, perhaps a bath? Would you like that?”
“Yes, miss,” the woman said in a low voice, stepping out from the shadows and into the light. As she looked back up at Susanna, it was obvious that there were no tear tracks on her face, nor were her eyes particularly wet. Well, Susanna thought to herself, justifying it, she may not have been actually crying, but that’s no reason I shouldn’t feel sympathy for her. She’s obviously had a very hard life, after all; this trouble probably seems like nothing to her. I would weep if I were forced to beg for shelter, but then, my soul must be much more tender than hers.
Susanna led the woman to the door she herself used, and then changed her mind and headed toward the kitchen door, where the servants came and went. It was less noticeable, and this woman would probably be more comfortable in the kitchen than a fancy dining room. “My name is Susanna – the Lady Susanna Drysdale, actually, though you may call me Susanna. And what are you called?”
“Jenny,” she said, and offered nothing more than that – no family name and no formal name (for surely ‘Jenny’ was only a nickname). Susanna waited politely, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming and eventually the silence grew awkward.
“My, what a lovely name!” She laughed, but it was obviously a forced laugh, such as one gave when in the company of ill-mannered strangers. And still Jenny gave her no more information. “Well... Jenny,” Susanna said, “you may sleep easy tonight. I will see that you’re well taken care of.”
And with that, Susanna left her in the capable hands of Cook, explaining that she required dinner and a bath. Cook, unsurprisingly, protested, but Susanna refused to hear any of it; she was determined to do this good deed. Susanna thought of herself as a generous, charitable woman, and she would prove it through her behavior toward this poor, dear creature who had stumbled into her path. Servants just didn’t understand. Of course, that was why they were servants. Susanna had to be a good example for them, to show how one properly behaved toward the needy.
Much later that night, Susanna was sitting at the dressing table in her bedroom, brushing out her hair. It was long, falling nearly to her waist, and dark blonde. She brushed it a hundred times every night herself; she wouldn’t leave the responsib
ility to her maid, who might not be as gentle or as thorough as Susanna herself. As she pulled the comb through her hair, silently counting each stroke, she admired herself in the mirror. She might still be unmarried, but that was only because there had yet been no young man who met her requirements. Her standards for a husband were high, but that was only because she deserved the best. She was beautiful, rich, highly cultured, and – as she had proved this very evening – gentle and kindhearted. It was not every young lady who would take pity on a beggar girl from the streets, after all.
Just as she was considering her own goodness, Susanna saw her bedroom door swing open. There had been no breeze to blow the door open, nor had there been a warning knock beforehand. Susanna turned, prepared to scold whichever servant was so ill-trained as to burst in upon her, when she saw the very beggar girl she’d just been thinking of. Jenny – yes, that was her name – appeared to be as startled by Susanna’s presence as Susanna was by hers; she froze silent and wide-eyed in the doorway.
Susanna made her voice gentle, so as not to scare her. “Yes? What are you doing here?”
“I –” Jenny hesitated for a moment, appearing to be unsure of herself, and then went on in a rush. “I wanted to thank you, miss. I thought that I might not see you in the morning – I have to leave very early, you see – and I didn’t want to go without telling you of my gratitude.”
Susanna smiled, basking in the simple pleasure of being appreciated. “Of course. You are most welcome, my dear. Come in, and let me look at you.” After another moment of indecision, Jenny stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. Someone had lent her a nightgown, though it didn’t quite fit. The hem was too short, revealing her ankles and the bottoms of her calves. Her legs were strong and well-shaped, and she seemed to feel no shame at having them visible. Her black hair had been braided and pinned to the crown of her head, though her curls threatened to escape that hold, and a few strands already framed her face. In the candlelight, Susanna could better see the deep mahogany of her skin, set off by the white of her nightgown, and the black of her eyes, framed with lashes so thick that they looked like kohl. Jenny’s lips were full and red, and though she was short, she had a lush figure whose curves were only partly hidden by the loose nightgown.
“You look very pretty,” Susanna said. She would have said it no matter what Jenny looked like, but in this case it was true. That startled her. She didn’t think that she should find a beggar girl attractive, especially one who looked so very different from Susanna herself, or the women she saw in paintings and the fashion periodicals. Jenny smiled smugly, as though she could hear Susanna’s uneasiness, and she liked it.
She walked toward Susanna, her eyes flicking down to the dressing table and quickly passing over the boxes of rouge and powder, the bottle of perfume, the jewelry box, and all the other odds and ends that had collected there. She looked back up into the mirror, and met Susanna’s eyes boldly in the reflection. “You’re pretty too.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Miss.”
Susanna felt herself blush, though such a common compliment shouldn’t have affected her. She – not Jenny, who was the one who should have been more subservient – dropped her eyes. “Thank you,” Susanna said, and swallowed, struggling to recover her composure. Jenny continued to behave inappropriately, brushing her hand over Susanna’s hair and then twisting a strand of it around her fingers.
“Is this the real color?” she asked.
Susanna gasped. “Of course it is!”
Jenny shrugged, as if the question hadn’t been an insult. “Bright as gold. Ain’t you lucky? I know women who’ve spent good money to get yellow hair, and none of them has anything like this color. Your pa should’ve named you Goldilocks.”
Susanna should have ordered Jenny out of the room, she knew she should have. She was too important to let some dirty stranger fondle her hair and speak to her in such a manner. But somehow, Susanna didn’t say anything. Jenny’s hand in her hair was domineering, as if she had the perfect right to do whatever she wanted, and the petting movements sent pleasant tingles across Susanna’s scalp. It soothed away all of her skepticism.
“I’ll brush it for you,” Jenny said, taking the comb from Susanna’s hand without waiting for an answer. Susanna had had her hair done by maids, by skilled woman who made their living by arranging hair, and Jenny obviously did not have their talent or experience. She didn’t even try to be gentle; once she snagged a tangle and tugged at it so roughly that Susanna’s head was yanked back and tears sprang into her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t used to being treated like this. And yet... there was something compelling about the forceful way that Jenny handled her. Susanna wasn’t quite why she liked it, other than that it was different and new, but it was enjoyable to stop thinking for a time and put herself into Jenny’s hands. She let her eyes fall closed and tipped her head back, sinking into the sensations of the brush pulling through her hair, of Jenny’s free hand resting on her shoulder, of the slight warmth of Jenny’s body heat that Susanna could feel on her back.
When Jenny had finished, Susanna’s hair swung free around her shoulders, shining like old gold in the candlelight. Jenny set the hairbrush down on the dressing table; it clinked, and the sound woke Susanna from the dreamy state she’d fallen into. “There you go,” Jenny said, her voice proud. “Beautiful as a treasure.” She glanced slyly at Susanna from the corner of her eyes. “All the boys must be after you, I’m sure.”
“Oh, no,” Susanna said, unable to meet Jenny’s knowing gaze. “I know nothing about that. My father will arrange a marriage for me, when he’s found the right man. Until then, of course I need to maintain my chastity. I don’t want to be gossiped about as some sort of... of light-skirt.”
“Well,” Jenny said with a shrug, “there’s marriage, and there’s chastity, and then there’s everything in between. You’ve been kissed, haven’t you?”
Susanna felt her cheeks heat. “Who would I kiss? The stableboy? The butler? The gentlemen I know would never behave so shockingly with a maiden such as myself.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” Jenny said in a low voice, “as you’d find out if you ever took one of those young gentlemen into a dark corner. But don’t mind me,” she added, raising her voice and brushing her hands busily against the skirt of her nightgown. “I’m sure a ‘maiden’ such as yourself isn’t even curious about these things. I’ll just be on my way. I wouldn’t want to disturb you with such impudent questions.”
Susanna let her get almost all of the way to the door before her curiosity conquered her manners. “Wait,” she called.
Jenny obediently turned back and clasped her hands in front of her, but her canny smile made a mockery of her meek posture. “Yes? Is there something you want, miss?”
“I – how –” Susanna stumbled over the words. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask, and even thinking about such things made her blush; the prospect of speaking about them aloud was almost unbearable. Jenny seemed to be used to it, though that was probably just another reason why Susanna shouldn’t be speaking to her in this way. “Have you kissed many boys?”
“I have indeed.” Jenny walked back to Susanna’s side, her hips swaying under the nightgown and making the hem sashay back and forth. “Kissed some girls, too.”
“Oh, but that’s – why would you do that?”
Jenny smirked. “Because there were no boys around to kiss. Because kissing girls means there’s no need to worry about babies or any of the other unpleasant consequences of making love. And sometimes I did it just because there was a girl I wanted to kiss.”
Susanna had never considered kissing a girl before, and she tried to imagine kissing one of her friends. The idea made her feel a little warm in her belly, a strange tickling feeling that she wasn’t used to. “Is kissing a girl as nice as kissing a boy?”
Jenny laughed. “Depends on the girl. Depends on the boy too. I’ve known boys who smelled bad or w
ere in sore need of a shave; didn’t much like kissing them. And then I’ve known girls who were quite pleasing to the eyes, and soft to the touch. I’d much rather kiss a girl like that.” She reached across and placed her hand on top of Susanna’s, where it lay on the edge of the dressing table. Susanna drew in a quick breath, but didn’t pull away. “And who would you want to kiss?” Jenny asked, her voice pitched low to curl around Susanna like smoke.
“I – oh, but – I want to kiss no one, of course. Except for my husband, someday.”
“Don’t you think your husband might want a wife who knows what she’s doing? I wouldn’t hire a navigator who’d never read a map.”
Susanna looked down to where their hands touched. She felt worried, yes, but also excited; she might be innocent, but she could see where Jenny was leading the conversation. She could stop her, of course – but Susanna didn’t think she would. Instead, she intended to find out what kissing was like for herself. She shivered at her own daring, feeling scandalous and sophisticated. She took a deep breath and half-turned in her chair, so that she was looking up at Jenny beside her. “But... how could I learn?” Susanna asked. She meant to sound flirtatious, but her voice came out breathy and nervous.
Jenny’s smile deepened, one side curling up. “Don’t you worry none. I’ll teach you.” She stroked Susanna’s cheek, then put her fingers under Susanna’s chin and tipped her face up. “Close your eyes,” she said.
Susanna obeyed. She felt Jenny’s fingers under her chin; the touch was gentle, but the fingertips themselves were coarse, calloused with hard work, and they scratched her skin. She could hear nothing, and goosebumps rose on her arms as she waited, straining to pick up some clue of what would happen next. This moment was thrilling –not able to see, not knowing what might happen – but she could only hang on as the anticipation built.
And then she was being kissed. Jenny’s lips briefly brushed against her own and then pulled away again. Susanna had known it was coming, but the reality of it made her breath hitch in her throat and her eyes fly open.