To Save a Fallen Angel (The Fallen Angels series Book 2)

by Julianna Hughes

  But nearly half the crew had refused to support her, not until Joc began his campaign of intimidation. Most of those men thought Joc should be the new captain. A handful had put forth Mr. Thibeau’s name when Joc flatly refused to be considered for the job.

  But what Peggy remembered most about that day was the utter sense of loss. Not only the death of her beloved uncle, but also the dream of having a home and family of her own. In the aftermath of Eddie’s murder, Peggy had known that her own dreams had to be put on hold in order to gain her revenge against her father.

  She also remembered the look she had seen on many of her former friends and crewmates. They did not want her as their captain any more than she wanted to be.

  “Not all of the crew feels that way.” She turned back to him. “Your bosun is one of them. As I recall he thought he should be the new captain of the Coral Sea. And clearly, he’s not above actin’ like he is this ship’s master.”

  Joc grunted.

  “You need to have a talk with him. If he does something like that again, I will have him thrown in the brig until we make port, and then set him off my ship.”

  He turned to face her directly. “Peggy, as zee captain, ye need to enforce yer control over zee men, or they will mutiny.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she had never wanted to be the captain. But it was a moot point now; she was the captain. And if she wanted to get what she needed, her revenge for the murder of her uncle, then she had to remain in charge.

  “I did,” she snapped. “But you are the first mate, and responsible for the conduct of the ship’s officers and men under their control. And if you cannot control Mr. Thibeau, then I will. And if I have to, then I’ll get a different first mate.”

  His eyes flashed fire and his jaw clenched.

  “If you don’t like the way I captain this ship, then you shouldn’t have insisted that I be her master.”

  “That eez not what I said,” he bit out.

  “Fine,” she replied, sounding petulant. “Then do your job, Joc, and I’ll do mine.”

  He glared at her as a pulse beat wildly in his neck. Finally, he took a step back and held his hand out toward the helm. “Capitaine, I’ll leave ye to it.”

  She took the helm and he turned smartly and walked away. Peggy immediately regretted the harsh words. It was not good for the crew to see the captain and first mate arguing. Especially when more than half the crew probably wanted Joc as the new captain and not her.

  And if they knew he was in fact half owner of the Coral Sea, and the other three ships that she had inherited then they may not have elected her to the position of captain. In fact, Joc was a partner in the shipping business that he and Eddie had owned. A secret, but full partner in the shipping business. And Joc wanted to keep it that way. And she suspected that that was part of the reason he did not want the attention of being made captain of the ship. Joc like to stay in the background, and hated being the focus of others.

  Peggy allowed her gaze to wander over the ship, taking note of the men as they scurried about like worker ants, climbing up the rigging and across the deck. Once she got tired of watching them, she turned her attentions out to sea. She tracked the clouds as they floated in front of the prow. Her mind began to drift with the movement of the ship and the clouds to the man now recovering in the fo’c’sle.

  As the day crawled by, her eyes returned to the gangway to where Captain Stoughton now lay. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t get the image of him out of her mind. Even pale from sea sickness, he was magnificent. His chest was that of an avid horseman and swordsman. Peggy hadn’t seen any fat on the man’s abdomen; it fairly rippled with muscles.

  But it wasn’t his rock-hard stomach that she kept thinking about. It was his beautiful blue eyes, and his strong firm mouth. Lips she wanted to kiss while they had been dancing in London. And again in Rochester.

  After an hour at the helm, she relinquished the wheel to the helmsman and returned to her cabin. She needed to get her mind off Captain Stoughton. Because Joc was right about the danger the man posed to them and their mission.

  True to his past experiences, when Luc woke up, the worst of the seasickness had passed. And also true to his past experiences, he woke up with an empty stomach and a powerful hunger. And since he was no longer in the brig, he decided to find the galley and, hopefully, some food. But his destination changed when he overheard two of the crewmen talking on the main deck.

  He wasn’t sure of the sanity of what he was doing. Nor did he want to analyze his actions too closely either. Originally, he had convinced himself that he just wanted to have a private discussion with the lady - the pirate captain - who had taken him prisoner on his own ship. Although, after Lady Margaret had saved him from her bosun, Luc wasn’t sure what he was any longer. She’d had him taken to the ship’s surgeon to have his injuries treated.

  He had then been given a small cabin and allowed to finally lie down. So his status on the ship was still unanswered. But he had been able to figure out a few things. From what he’d overheard, the pirates still planned on sailing to the Mediterranean Sea to rescue the Earl of Kiterman. But what had they done with all the English sailors and marines that had been on board the ship?

  He was going to wait until morning to find out the answers to his questions, but then one of the sailors mentioned that he had delivered the captain’s dinner and that her door was still unlocked. Apparently, an unusual occurrence, and one they were chalking up to their escape from England and having an English dog onboard. Luc knew that meant him.

  He didn’t know what made him try her door, but when he found it unlocked, he couldn’t prevent himself from slipping in to get those answers. But once he was inside the captain’s cabin, his focus had changed from reconnaissance to seduction. Something that was probably going to get him killed.

  He would like to blame his obsession with Lady Margaret Hennessey on lust. It would be an easy excuse after all, and he knew it. But after three years of seducing the wives of French officers and never experiencing this kind of exhilaration, he knew that wasn’t why he was obsessed with her.

  There was just something about Margaret that drew him to her like a cat to a bowl of cream. He wasn’t sure why, as he had known other beautiful women, including some of the French wives he had seduced. But whatever the reason, he now found himself standing in the darkened cabin and gawking like a schoolboy at the lady sleeping peacefully on her bed.

  Instinctively, he knew the lady who had held him at cutlass point on the deck of the ship hours ago would not go to bed unarmed. Despite not being able to see a pistol or her cutlass, he knew without a doubt the weapons were close at hand. The woman was after all the captain of a bunch of Barbary pirates. She would not be taking any chances with her life while she was vulnerable in sleep.

  His training as a spy had taught him to move like a shadow in the night, not making a sound, or to at least blend in with those around him. The snapping of the sails overhead and splashing of the waves as the ship cut through the water filled the room with an ambience and helped to hide his movements. Beneath his feet a board creaked, but it blended with those of the ship as its hull beat against the waves.

  Despite his ability to blend in with the night, Luc expected that at any moment the lady would spring from her bed and run him through with her cutlass. But she didn’t. And he made it to the side of the bed undetected.

  Enchanted, he stared down at his sleeping angel, lost in the soft snoring that came from her lips. A grin lifted the ends of his mouth. He thought it was endearing and enchanting that he knew such a private thing about the lady. But then he recalled that this particular angel had claws. Sharp and deadly ones.

  He quickly scanned the coverlet and found two very suspicious lumps beneath the bedding. His grin turned sardonic as he shook his head; the lady did indeed sleep fully armed. And from the looks of her bare shoulders, she also slept naked.

  That wasn’t surprising. He
had learned from Sir Walter that Lady Margaret had been raised in the Mediterranean area and not in the colder and more prudish England climate, as most ladies of her station were.

  So self-preservation dictated his next actions, but not the one he took afterward. He stealthily reached over the lady and pinned the coverlet over her arms, preventing her from reaching for the possible weapons under the blankets. And then, unable to deny his desire any longer, he leaned down and captured her protest with his lips.

  Chapter 13

  Peggy knew instantly who had pinned her to her bed. Joc knew better than to ever approach her while she was asleep. At least not without calling out first. Not after she nearly took off his head, literally, on her sixteenth birthday when he and Eddie snuck into her room to surprise her.

  But before she could demand an explanation from the Englishman, he silenced her with his lips in an earth-tilting kiss. Captivated by the taste of him, Peggy gave up trying to get free and sank into the delights of being kissed by the man she’d just been dreaming about. But she knew better than to lose herself completely.

  Gently, and ever so slowly, she worked her right arm from under the blankets - distracting him all the while with more passion than she had ever experienced - and slid the point of her dagger under his chin, careful not to touch his skin.

  She might be enjoying the kiss, but wasn’t about to surrender to it. And he was obviously a skilled rogue. He certainly knew how to kiss, masterfully so. But it didn't mean she was going to allow him to get away with sneaking into her room in the middle of the night and assaulting her.

  When he finally ended the kiss and began to pull away, she raised the dagger and pricked his neck with it. He froze. His Adam's apple slowly rose and fell beneath his day's growth of beard. Then a knowing spark entered his eyes as his right eyebrow slowly inched its way up.

  "My apologies, lassie. I do not honestly know what came over me," he said.

  A feeling of disappointment wafted through her. Why, she didn't know, and didn't want to analyze it too closely.

  Leaning away from her, he dislodged the point of her dagger from his throat and regarded it thoughtfully for a second before meeting her eyes once again.

  "I was hungry and came lookin’ for food," he said.

  She knew it was a lie. "Food?" she asked and looked around her room. "In here?"

  His eyes dropped to her lips, and his mouth kicked up at the corner. Peggy's heart did some kicking of its own.

  "Aye-and-nae." he said, still staring intently into her eyes. "I heard two of yer crewmen talkin’ about leaving food outside yer door. And that it was untouched at the changin’ of the watch."

  Her own eyebrow rose and she unconsciously licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Peggy's stomach chose that inopportune moment to grumble, reminding her that she had indeed skipped her evening meal.

  A warm flutter at the vee of her legs echoed the hunger of her stomach as she watched the man's eyes dropped to the regions of her wanton needs. The glow that had dimmed at his words a moment ago burst back to life.

  Slowly, while still keeping the point of her dagger aimed at his throat, Peggy sat up in the bed and turned to face him straight on, making no effort whatsoever to retain the blanket he had trapped her beneath. Her conscience cringed, and she knew she should cover her naked breasts. But the look in his eyes kept her from reaching for the coverlet.

  Peggy was pleased to see his eyes widen and his mouth drop open. She had long since given up the habit of sleeping in clothes. The heat in the Mediterranean made them too uncomfortable to sleep in. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she watched her midnight caller struggle gallantly to avert his eyes. A number of heartbeats passed as she closely watched him and knew the moment his eyes dropped back down to her.

  Peggy gave him credit for gentlemanly effort as his eyes sank once then rose and then sank again. When he finally pulled his gaze back to hers, Peggy smirked. His mouth twitched then he did a slow, deliberate perusal of her nude body, sending quivers of desire shooting straight to her mons.

  When he finally raised his eyes to hers, she returned the favor, wishing he wasn’t wearing the borrowed seaman’s clothes. Although Peggy’s imagination still remembered how he had looked with his shirt in tatters and most of his body naked yesterday.

  Where they would have gone from there died in a clanging of the ship’s bell and a call to arms. The distant shouts of her crew and the thudding of boots and feet as they scrambled above their heads thundered in the darken room. His eyebrow rose in question. Hers rose in silent answer. A moment later the silent queries were confirmed by the Watch calling out the reason for the alarm.

  "The prisoner has escaped, Mr. Malveaux."

  Peggy came off the bed, jabbing the point of her dagger into his chest and backing him up as she did.

  "Captain Stoughton, I figure you have about thirty seconds to get behind that door,” she nodded at the wardrobe on the side of the cabin, “before my papa comes bursting through it. And I can assure you, if he catches you in here with me dressed as I am, there is nothing I can say or do that will save your life."

  Papa! Luc had been told Jocquelin Malveaux was her guardian. And that had been bad enough. But her announcement that the bloodthirsty Frenchman was her father was a little confusing.

  “Yer father?” he asked. “I thought Marcus Hennessey was yer father?”

  She gave him an exasperated look, one he had seen on countless annoyed women. Then Luc stupidly watched as the lady, totally indifferent to his presence, wrapped herself in her blanket, effectively cutting off his distractions. Her eyes then flickered to the door of her cabin, and she bit her lower lip in a very seductive way. Something his brain was telling him he should not be noticing at a time like this, but his body was choosing to totally ignore.

  "Wardrobe," she said.

  "Wardrobe?" he asked, having no earthly idea what the lady was talking about.

  It was his duty to protect and defend a lady's honor. But at the moment she was the one armed, and he was the one standing there quite defenseless.

  "Wardrobe, Captain Stoughton," she said again, and then nodded to the corner of her cabin once again. "And I'd be quick about it, if I were you." She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "Those boots pounding down the companionway belong to my first mate. And if he catches you standing there. . ."

  She let the last of her sentence trail off. It, however, wasn't necessary as his brain finally caught up with the situation. He sprinted across the room and dove into the cabinet just as the cabin's door burst open.

  "Margaret!"

  The voice of the Frenchman vibrated through the wardrobe.

  "Papa, what is the meaning of this?" he heard her demand.

  "The English prisoner has escaped."

  "What prisoner?" she calmly asked. “I was unaware that we had a prisoner on board. English or otherwise.”

  "Ye know who, little girl. The army captain."

  "Stoughton? He is not our prisoner, he is our passenger. And our comrade in freeing my father," she replied.

  The silence that followed the last part of her reply seemed interminable while Luc waited for the door to the wardrobe to be yanked open. He wasn't sure if he was terrified or relieved by the prospect. Cowering in a wardrobe went against his honor as a gentleman. However, as a spy, he’d had to do the same thing on a few other occasions.

  Eternity ended when she continued speaking. "I wouldn't think he was in any shape to escape either." Even through the wardrobe’s thick wooden door Luc could hear the emphasis she put on the word, escape.

  "Nor I," Joc concurred. "But he's gone."

  "Well, I wouldn't worry too much. We're in the middle of the ocean. And besides, he’s our ally. We need him to free my father, and he needs us if he is going to get to Chevalier. If you are worried this landlubber will fall overboard, then post an extra watch. I'm sure he'll turn up by morning."

&nbs
p; Silence followed the order, and he was sure the Frenchman was looking around the cabin for signs of his presence. Finally, he heard retreating footfalls and then the cabin's door closing. Luc let out his breath and shook his head and started laughing. And there was no way he could stop, even to save his own life.

  The door was ripped open and the sharp point of a cutlass was thrust toward his throat. Even then Luc could not contain the hilarity of the moment. It helped that the pirate holding the cutlass was the beautiful Lady Margaret and not her guardian.

  "I hope your illness has scrambled yer brains, Captain Stoughton," the lady deadpanned.

  "Oh aye, most assuredly," Luc got out between failed attempts to restrain his merriment.

  "Then for yer sake, Captain, and mine, I suggest you batten down your joviality before you get someone killed."

  That sobered him up. He had not even considered the idea that Malveaux would harm his own ward.

  "Are you afraid of yer guardian, lass?" Luc cocked his head to the side. “Or is he your father?” he asked.

  "My guardian, Captain Stoughton. Although Joc was there the day I was born and has helped in raising me ever since. Consequently, I’ve often called him Papa for as long as I can recall. And don't be ridiculous, Joc would never harm me," she said.

  "Then how. . ." It suddenly occurred to him that she wasn't talking about being caught with him in her room. She was unaware of his experience as a spy and thought he would endanger them because of it. "I can assure you I will not endanger you in any way, milady. I was a soldier for three years. And I worked for Sir Walter on other assignments as well." He said as he pushed his way pass the tip of her cutlass. "My whole purpose here is to help you rescue yer," he glanced questioningly at her, "yer father. The Earl of Kiterman.”

  She grimaced slightly but defiantly remained silent.

  His eyes flew to the closed cabin door, now tightly secured with a large bolt. When his eyes returned to the lady, she raised her chin, stared back at him in a way that sent tremors of desire to his groin.