The Care & Feeding of Pirates

by Jennifer Ashley

  Honoria laid down the knife, despondent. "There's no love left in me. I've used it all up, I think. I only have anger anymore."

  Mrs. Colby's face wrinkled up with her smile, the laugh lines nearly hiding her eyes. "You have young anger, and you've hurt like no girl should ever have had to hurt. No, don't draw yourself up, Mrs. Raine. Thirty is young yet, you'll see."

  "Thirty-one," Honoria said in a dull voice. She'd often wished she hadn't had such a happy childhood. Then she wouldn't know about the joys that had been taken away from her.

  Mrs. Colby smiled again but subsided. Honoria knew the woman was trying to comfort her, and she was grateful. Not Mrs. Colby's fault that Christopher was an arrogant, interfering man who thought all women should do as he wished, and James was no better. Why women fell in love with the blasted men was beyond her.

  Honoria positioned another carrot, raised her knife, and viciously chopped her way down its long, hard length.

  *** *** ***

  In another part of the ship, Manda Raine was drawing a similar conclusion about men.

  Alden Henderson stood on the threshold of Manda's cabin, blocking her exit and igniting her blood.

  The cabin was a tiny compartment the length of her bunk. Manda had enough room to stand, dress, wash her face in the tiny washbasin, and stow a trunk in which to keep a few personal items. She preferred small quarters--easier to keep them clean. But there was not enough room in here for her and Henderson together, and she felt that with every muscle of her body.

  Manda supposed she could simply knock Henderson out of the way and step over his prostrate body on her way out. She just didn't want to.

  "I understood from your brother that you would tell me what was going on," Henderson said.

  Manda folded her arms. The gesture closed herself in, made her feel more protected. "What he meant was that I should use my womanly wiles to sway you to our side."

  Henderson's brows, perfect lines of gold, drew together. "I doubt he said that, or meant it."

  His lack of derision annoyed her for some reason. "What he meant is that you're a threat, and I am supposed to keep you under control."

  A puckered line appeared behind the noseband of his spectacles. "Why don't you tell me what it's all about," Henderson said. "Then we'll talk about control."

  Manda pressed her fists together, suddenly nervous. She was never nervous. She assessed situations and found ways through them. Even when she'd been stuck in that cage for the awful Switton, she hadn't worried very much. She'd get out somehow, sometime--it was just a matter of when.

  Alden Henderson flummoxed her. Manda did not want to fight him, although she supposed she might feel better if she gave him a good punch.

  Henderson had kissed her again a few moments before the ship had caught the wind four days before. They'd encountered one another in the chart room, and after some verbal sparring, Henderson had cupped Manda's face in his hands and given her a long, deep kiss.

  Manda had forgotten everything around her, including the subtle signs that told her a wind had sprung up at last. She'd been late on deck for the first time in her life, and Christopher had noted it.

  She realized that Henderson had shaken loose something inside her, and she neither understood the sensation nor knew how to respond.

  "I bet you let no one control you," she said. You do as you please, go where you like, a spoiled English gent."

  "And you drag the fact that I'm an Englishman into every conversation."

  "Not Englishman," she corrected coldly. "English gentleman. Sure the whole world exists for your privilege."

  The spark of rage in his gray eyes pleased her. "If that is true, then why did I leave my fine English home to hunt pirates? Life aboard Ardmore's ship is not exactly soft."

  Manda lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You needed entertainment?"

  "I needed a purpose, if you must know. I was supposed to be a clergyman."

  Her eyes widened. "A clergyman? You?"

  "A respectable vicar with aspirations to a bishopric. I was promised a living by an earl--after the current vicar passed on, which he showed no sign of doing year after year after bloody year. I met Ardmore by chance and admired what he did."

  "I see. So if you can't save souls, you'll save people from bloodthirsty pirates?"

  "Something like that."

  Manda had lived her life having to prove she was as tough as a man to survive. Men either wanted to fight her or take her to bed, often both. She'd never met anyone like Henderson, who preferred talking to fighting, and she wasn't sure what to do with him.

  Yet, she'd seen him do battle at Lord Switton's. His punches had been neat and efficient, and he'd helped clear her way out of the garden without so much as bending his spectacles.

  But he mostly fought with words, and here Manda, for the first time in her life, was at a loss. She and Christopher had learned to communicate almost wordlessly. When she tangled with Henderson, she did not know what to do. Or say.

  "Well?" Henderson asked. His hair had grown a bit longer in the past few weeks, and it glinted in the lantern light. Manda knew his hair felt like silk, and that fact made her somehow even angrier. "What is it Raine wants you to tell me?"

  Manda let out a long breath. "He's after the gold he was forced to leave behind. I'm betting Ardmore has come to stop him."

  "The gold from the Rosa Bonita?" Henderson looked thoughtful. "I remember. The Mexican gold bound for Napoleon. I hear the emperor was livid when it went missing."

  "I am surprised your hero Captain Ardmore didn't force Christopher to tell him where he'd left it."

  "I'm not. Ardmore doesn't give a damn about gold, and he certainly wouldn't give it to Napoleon, or even worse, the British Admiralty. He's happy to let it stay buried."

  "Then why is he bothering Chris about it now?"

  Henderson's gray eyes glinted. "Because neither does he want your brother to have the gold. Raine's a pirate. Ardmore won't let a pirate win."

  "And that pirate stole Ardmore's sister."

  "Maybe, but I honestly believe that if not for the gold, Ardmore wouldn't bother to chase us. He and Honoria do not get along. At all. And that's an understatement."

  "So I gathered."

  Manda could not imagine having her brother perpetually angry at her. She and Chris were friends and partners--the two of them against the world. They never talked about their feelings or cried on each other's shoulders, but they each knew that the other would be there for them. Always.

  "All right, I've told you," she said, drawing into herself again. "Don't you have things to do?"

  He continued to stand in the way, so Manda looked him over. She didn't like light-haired men. She preferred men with dark hair and dark eyes, not tall men like colorless statues. Henderson's hair was so pale yellow it was nearly white, which went with his white-gray eyes. The sun had turned his skin a golden hue, tanned rather than burned.

  His lips were thin but satin smooth. She knew that. Before Manda could stop herself, she leaned into him and kissed them.

  Henderson caught her in his arms. His answering kiss was hungry, opening her mouth, his tongue stroking into her, exploring her, as though their angry words never existed. He tasted like fine wine, though Manda knew they had none on board.

  Henderson pulled her closer, hands lifting her hair, caressing the nape of her neck. He deepened the kiss, his body tight against hers so that she could feel the ridge of his cock through her breeches. Her heart pounded, blood hot in her veins.

  In all her life, Manda Raine had never been afraid of anyone. But what trickled through her heart as Henderson kissed her made her very much afraid. And confused. She felt like a downy chick just hatched, one who stared at the big sky and wondered what it meant.

  Henderson eased away from her. His gaze, clear behind the glass of his spectacles, fixed intently on her. Manda closed her hands around his coat's lapels and started to tug him gently with her into the cabin.

  Hen
derson remained firmly where he was and shook his head, his expression never changing. Hurt flooded her, and confusion.

  Henderson swallowed, anguish in his eyes, then he silently turned and walked away.

  Manda should have flooded him with scathing invective, or at the very least, given him a roundhouse biff on the jaw. But she could only stand helplessly while he, a stuck-up Englishman, strode away and left her alone.

  Manda turned around and kicked her bunk. She kicked and kicked until her foot hurt.

  When she limped out of her cabin again, she spied Honoria in the passage, watching her, sympathy in her light green eyes.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" Honoria asked her.

  Manda's rage focused into one shout. "I don't want to talk--to anyone--ever again!"

  She raced past Honoria and up the stairs. Ignoring Henderson, her brother, and the rest of the crew, she took refuge in the shadows and busily worked the sails and ropes, things she knew would not confuse her and make her insides feel rubbed raw.

  *** *** ***

  Christopher watched the Argonaut draw ever closer. For a day and a night, the other ship chased them, gaining slowly.

  His men knew that the Starcross could outrun Ardmore if Christopher wanted to. They also knew that Christopher never did anything without good reason. Therefore, if Christopher wanted Ardmore to catch them, then Ardmore catching them must be to their advantage.

  By sunset of the second day, the Argonaut had drawn close enough to send a signal. Her gun ports were propped open, black holes of metal glinting in the sun's rays. Christopher resolutely kept his ports shut.

  St. Cyr raised his spyglass and studied the flags fluttering from the Argonaut's forward rigging. Christopher stood next to him, his hands on the rail, waiting.

  "He wants to board," St. Cyr said. "And meet with you."

  Not surprising. Ardmore would want to confront Christopher face to face.

  "Tell him he may come over," he said. "But only if he brings his wife."

  St. Cyr looked at him, deadpan. "Do we have the flags for that?"

  "Have a messenger row over and bring them back."

  St. Cyr nodded, turned, and gave orders to the tense, waiting crew.

  "Begging your pardon, sir," Colby drawled, flexing his large hands. "But aren't we going to fight him?"

  Christopher looked at Honoria. The dying sun caught highlights in her sable-black hair and whipped her thin dress around her deliciously shapely limbs.

  "No," he answered Colby, still looking at Honoria. "We are not. We're going to give Ardmore exactly what he's come for."

  *****

  Chapter Nineteen

  "I'll not go back with him, Christopher."

  Honoria spoke quietly, but her eyes were full of fire. Christopher fixed part of his attention on her and part on the tiny sparks of light that moved toward them, lanterns on the gig that brought Ardmore and his wife to the Starcross.

  Honoria obviously wanted to argue, but Christopher was not in the mood. "I'm giving you the choice."

  "I see." She could make those two words so very full of meaning.

  Her lips were pale pink in the half dark. Christopher could not help but lean down and press a kiss to them.

  Honoria's mouth moved with the kiss, her desire never far away. Christopher might claim he left the choice to her, but his heart didn't want him to. Honoria might decide that returning to her house in Charleston, to baths scented with rosewater and servants bringing her things on trays, was best for her. Christopher needed to make her see that it wasn't.

  The small boat bumped the ship. Christopher continued kissing Honoria, making certain Ardmore saw them.

  The Starcross had a shallow stair built right into its hull, and the gig tied up next to it. Christopher had ordered a harness made ready to lift Mrs. Ardmore aboard, but she climbed after her husband, hands confident on the ropes.

  Ardmore had brought with him another officer, the small Irishman called Ian O'Malley. He also brought a barrel of water, which was hoisted aboard, the wood enticingly wet.

  "Heard you'd run short," Ardmore said.

  Christopher looked into eyes as cool as Honoria's. Brother and sister resembled each other, both with midnight black hair and ice-green eyes. They also shared the arrogant lift of the head and the faint sardonic observation beneath a polite Southern drawl.

  "We were becalmed longer than I anticipated," Christopher replied. He made a brief bow to Diana. "Mrs. Ardmore. Pleased to see you again."

  Diana nodded in return, her fine eyes revealing nothing.

  The deck of the Starcross was crowded, the masts, rigging, and windlasses taking most of the space. Christopher and Ardmore stood close together on the only open space, while Diana was separated from them by an open hatch. Honoria had moved all the way to the stern, behind the wheel.

  Ardmore shifted his gaze to his sister then back to Christopher. "I assume you invited Mrs. Ardmore to accompany me so I wouldn't order my ship to open fire on you while I was over here."

  "Yes," Christopher said.

  "What gives me the assurance you won't fire on the Argonaut?"

  "My word." Christopher flicked his gaze to the distant ship. "I believe your son and stepdaughter are with you, am I right?" He turned to Diana, who nodded reluctantly. "I thought so. I'm not barbaric enough to shoot innocents."

  "Kind of you," O'Malley broke in. "Though the lass Isabeau isn't so innocent. She can climb halfway up to the fighting top soon as your back is turned."

  Diana looked slightly exasperated, and Christopher allowed himself a brief smile.

  "You know why I'm here," Ardmore said, impatient. He looked again at Honoria, who returned the gaze with identical belligerence.

  Christopher made a conceding gesture. "If you wish to speak to her, I have no objection."

  "We've other things to talk about first," Ardmore said. "Do you want to go below, or discuss it in front of your men?"

  "I trust my crew," Christopher said. "But you might be safer if we went below."

  Ardmore gave him a nod. "I believe you. Diana, stay here with Honoria."

  "Not likely," Diana said. "I don't trust either of you to keep things amicable, and I want to know what transpires. Therefore, I am going below with you."

  Ardmore frowned at her but didn't argue. Christopher saw that he and Ardmore had one thing in common, at least--wives who had trouble with the vow of obedience.

  In the end, Manda, Diana, Henderson, St. Cyr, and Honoria joined the two captains in the crowded chart room around the bare table. Ardmore had brought a small cask of brandy with him, and Henderson broached it and handed around cups.

  The discussion that followed surprised no one. Ardmore knew that Christopher was after the gold of the Rosa Bonita and had come to stop him. Christopher asked him how he planned to do so.

  "Sink you," Ardmore said. "I have room on the Argonaut for you and your crew. I'll take you to port and let you go. It took you a long time to find and outfit this ship. I imagine it will take you longer to acquire another."

  Christopher studied the golden hue of the brandy, which blended into the copper color of the cup. It was a sin to drink brandy out of such a vessel, but Christopher hadn't laid in the crystal. Honoria would try to remedy that, of course, next port they reached.

  "You'd have a fight," Christopher said. "My men are itching for one. We'll not sit tamely and let you blow us out of the water."

  James leaned forward, his eyes dark in the shadows. "I outgun you, I outman you, and you can't outrun me. The Starcross won't win a fight against the Argonaut."

  Christopher shrugged, pretending that tension wasn't crawling up and down his spine. "I've heard that American privateer ships with fewer guns are prevailing against fully fitted English frigates. The American vessels are smaller and faster, like the Starcross."

  "Yes," Ardmore said. "I am one of those prevailing. You won't stand against me. You fight, I sink you. You fight hard, and you'll have deaths o
n your hands."

  Christopher took another sip of brandy and set down the cup, noting that Ardmore hadn't yet touched his. "You would be firing at a ship containing your own sister."

  "I know. Are you prepared to let her die for your Mexican gold?"

  Christopher managed a smile. "You don't need to use Honoria as a hostage for my good behavior. We'll send the women and children out to sea before we fight."

  "Or Honoria can return to the Argonaut," James said. "It is her choice. She can return with me, or stand by you while I sink you."

  Honoria's voice lashed from the corner. "I'll thank you not to talk about me as though I'm not here, James. Why do you want that gold, anyway? What would you do with it?"

  "Give it to the American navy. They need all the help they can get."

  "Very patriotic of you," Honoria said. "How do you any of you know the gold is still there? It's been four years. Some other pirate has no doubt stumbled upon it and snatched it up."

  "That is a risk," Christopher said, making a conceding gesture.

  "One you're willing to take," Ardmore said.

  "I have a much better idea, James," Honoria said. "Why don't you go away? You're not wanted here. There have been no acts of piracy committed since I've been on this ship, so you have no need to be here. Go hunt pirates somewhere else."

  Ardmore's voice went even quieter. "This isn't a game, Honoria."

  "Of course it is. You are men. You make everything into a game. You are like cocks strutting around a barnyard, competing to see who can crow the loudest."

  Diana smiled. "The comparison is apt."

  "Ladies," Ardmore began.

  "No, James, you will not shut us out," Honoria said. "We have as much at stake as do you. I am staying with Christopher. He is my husband. Sink us and be damned to you."

  St. Cyr looked pained. Henderson had not said a word. Manda looked angry enough to shoot Ardmore then and there. Good thing Manda rarely carried a pistol. She preferred knives.

  "I'll do it, Honoria," Ardmore said. "Be certain you're willing to die for him."