A Pirate of her Own

by Kinley MacGregor

  Even through the door he heard her sad, melodramatic sigh.

  He decided that it was a good thing she didn’t open the door. Because right then, standing in the hallway with his coat dripping on his dry clothes, his plate in his hand, and his male ego greatly offended, he probably would have strangled her.

  But sooner or later, she would have to leave, and when she did…

  Chapter 8

  Serenity confronted the room with her wrath fully unfurled.

  “Okay, Morgan Drake, if you want to see a woman keep her place, then I’ll show you a woman keeping her place.”

  And with the taste of vengeance scalding her tongue, she set out to do her worst to his most hallowed space.

  Regardless of what he said, she knew men valued their sanctuaries and any female encroachment rankled them to their core.

  So, if he wanted a frilly little miss who minded her sewing, and never spoke without a man’s permission, she’d give it to him! In true female fashion, she would redecorate his masculine haven.

  Searching the trunk she’d found below his bed, she pulled out the yards and yards of canvas he kept stored there. It wouldn’t make the best curtains in the world, but it would be enough to get her point across.

  She found scissors and a needle and thread in the trunk where he kept his clothes, and took the canvas to the table.

  Even if it took her all night, she would show him feminine ways.

  Morgan walked across the deck, his anger still burning. The rain had all but ceased and only a light drizzle assaulted him now.

  “You look like hell, Drake,” Jake said as he approached him. “I thought you were turning in for the night.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he muttered.

  Jake laughed. “Women,” he said with a knowing smile. “What did she do to you?”

  Morgan tossed his wet coat to the deck and snarled. “You won’t believe what she thinks.”

  Propping one arm against the wheel, Jake cocked a brow. “From what I’ve seen of her, there’s no telling.”

  At last, he’d finally found someone to take his side! Grateful for Jake’s sanity, Morgan unloaded his burden, “She thinks women ought to be equal to men.”

  Jake rolled his eyes.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’m telling you, Drake, bed the wench. That’ll take her mind off such stupid notions.”

  Sighing, Morgan shook his head. “I wish it were that easy.”

  Jake gave him a disbelieving stare. “Excuse me, but I believe that someone must have exchanged places with you. You can’t be the same man who took three whores to his bed for a week and didn’t emerge until they couldn’t walk.”

  “It’s not the same, Jake.”

  He snorted. “It is the same.”

  “If you mean that, then why haven’t I seen you chase after a woman in the last three years?” Morgan asked. “You, who always prided yourself on the fact that you could have any woman you saw? If it’s so easy, why don’t you join my men on shore when they visit a cathouse?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Morgan asked. “I’ve seen you collect women like a beggar collects food scraps. What has made you so chaste when it comes to any attractive woman who crosses your path?”

  “Because Lorelei would have my head, and I don’t mean the one on my shoulders.”

  Morgan couldn’t resist taunting him. “So you’re afraid of Lorelei? A woman?”

  Color flooded Jake’s cheeks at the insult. “I’m not afraid of anything…” He looked down and said in a voice that reminded Morgan of a small peevish boy, “I just don’t want another woman.”

  “Because there is a difference.”

  Jake shook his head and laughed. “You always have to win an argument, don’t you?”

  Morgan clenched his teeth. He certainly had never won an argument with Serenity.

  After several seconds of silence, Jake spoke up. “I guess I just don’t see why she makes a difference.”

  Morgan didn’t even want to think about that.

  Serenity was different. Everything about her.

  “Go get some sleep,” Morgan said with a sigh. “I’ve got the helm.”

  Jake released the wheel to him. “I think I’ve pretty much corrected our course. We do have one slight problem, though.”

  “Which is?”

  He pointed up to the mizzenmast. “Even with them down, we lost the mizzen topsail and the fore topsail to the wind. I figure the repairs can wait until morning, but you will need to replace them.”

  “Aye. I’ll have Lou and Kit take care of it.”

  Provided Serenity will let me back in my cabin to get the spare sails.

  “Good night, Drake.”

  If only the night was good, Morgan thought sullenly. But right then, nothing seemed good at all.

  Hours went by slowly while Morgan watched over the helm, doing his best not to think about the woman below.

  In an effort to distract himself, he looked up at the damaged sails. Fate had been kind to him, he’d only lost two. The exact number he had left in his cabin. He’d meant to purchase more in Savannah, but Jake’s unexpected abduction of Serenity had precluded that.

  Sighing, he realized he’d have to check the sealant below in the storage rooms again lest the storm had damaged it and they lost more supplies. Blast it all anyway.

  And then his thoughts turned to more discomforting matters, such as Serenity surrendering herself to him…

  Not long after dawn, his crew began stirring, coming topside with lazy, tired walks. Lou climbed the mast and headed for the crow’s nest while the others headed to the jardines on the poop deck to relieve themselves.

  “Captain!” Lou shouted as soon as he took his post. “There’s a sloop to port aft.”

  Morgan turned in the direction and squinted. He could just barely make out the shape with his naked eye. “Bearing?”

  “Headed straight for us, Captain.”

  “Can you make their markings?” Morgan asked.

  Lifting the spyglass, Lou studied the ship. It seemed forever before he answered. “Aye, she flies the Stars and Stripes, Captain.”

  Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t the Union Jack or Jolly Roger. An American ship he could deal with, but first he had to let them know he was friendly—not a pirate or privateer out to liberate them of their cargo.

  Spying Barney to his right, he shouted. “Take the helm, Mr. Pitkern.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Morgan headed to his cabin.

  He tried the lock and luckily it gave way. Hoping Serenity was still asleep, he gently nudged the door open.

  His luck was holding. She lay curled up on his bed like a small child. He sighed in relief as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

  She hadn’t bothered to remove her dress, which was now hopelessly wrinkled. But what captured and held his attention were the tiny, bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem. He’d never paid attention to a woman’s toes before, but for some reason he found hers delightful.

  Until he looked up and saw the curtains decorating his windows.

  His stomach lurched.

  Nay! Surely she hadn’t…

  Oh, yes, she had!

  His anger igniting, he charged to his ruined sails. “What the hell have you done now?” he roared.

  Serenity came awake with a small cry of alarm. She looked to him and her demeanor instantly changed to one of relief. “Oh, it’s just you.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just me. The man who’s now going to kill you.”

  Instead of being alarmed, she lifted one eyebrow curiously. “Kill me?”

  Morgan clenched his teeth. This was the last thing he needed. He had an unidentified ship heading straight for him. A ship that appeared friendly, but on the open seas, there wasn’t such a thing as a friendly ship. Even though it flew the American flag, it could
still be pirates or anyone else flying under a phantom flag.

  “Do you realize, Miss James, that the material you used for your curtains happens to be the canvas for sail repair?”

  She gave him a huffy glare. “Are you saying you only have two sails on board a ship this size?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You’re not amusing, Captain Drake,” she said in a dismissive tone. “I know for a fact that ships carry entire rooms full of spare sails. Why, you’re trying—”

  “Our spare sails were damaged in a storm that ripped a hole in the helm where they were stored,” he interrupted. “The two in my trunk were the only two that were salvageable.”

  Uh-oh was written plainly on her face as she realized what she’d done.

  Before Morgan could say anything more, Kit stuck his head in the door. “Beg pardon, Captain. Lou says the sloop is making haste straight for us. We be needing a flag or they’re sure to think we’re pirates.”

  Morgan’s gaze narrowed as he continued to stare at Serenity. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  He crossed the room to his desk drawer, pulled out a key, then went to the trunk he had next to the door. Morgan threw back the lid. Searching through the folded material, he located an American flag.

  Morgan stopped at the door. “Keep her out of trouble, Kit. If she touches anything else in my room, toss her overboard.”

  Kit’s eyes widened. “Aye, Captain Drake.”

  Morgan pinned Serenity with his hostile gaze. “I mean those words, Miss James.”

  Instead of being concerned, she just rolled her eyes.

  Grumbling under his breath, Morgan headed topside.

  “What did you do to get the captain so steamed, Miss James?” Kit asked.

  Serenity pushed herself off the bunk, and pointed to the windows with her thumb. “I made curtains with the sails.”

  Kit’s eyes widened even more. “Miss James, didn’t you know better?”

  “I do now,” she said with a sigh. Wishing she had given her actions more thought, Serenity picked up the flags and clothing Morgan had left strewn on the floor.

  She noticed Morgan had four flags—from Ireland, France, Britain, and Spain. “Why does Captain Drake have all these?” she asked as they refolded them.

  Kit showed her where to place them in the trunk. “If a ship flies a friendly flag, then most approaching ships will let it pass without conflict.”

  “And if a ship doesn’t fly a friendly flag?”

  He pursed his lips and sighed. “Well, it’s usually challenged. Most of the time one ship or the other will surrender after only a few rounds are shot.”

  “Really?” she asked. “I thought ships constantly battled each other.”

  “Let’s just say that sea battles are hard to win. We’ve picked up survivors from the victory ship numerous times. It only takes one or two cannonballs in the wrong place to sink both ships.”

  “Then why fight?”

  Kit shrugged. “Fighting is always a last resort. Unless…” his voice trailed off, and he looked as if he hadn’t meant to keep talking.

  “Unless what?” she prompted.

  Scratching the back of his neck, he gave her a doleful look from under his brow. “Unless the ship flies the Jolie Rouge.”

  “You mean the Jolly Roger?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. The Jolie Rouge is a pirate’s red flag of death. It means no survivors will be tolerated.”

  Serenity’s heart pounded at his words. “How often have you seen this Jolie Rouge?”

  He looked away, and by the slump in his shoulders, she could tell how much the questions bothered him. “More times than was ever necessary, Miss James.”

  Morgan was about to hand the Stars and Stripes to Lou when Jake’s voice stopped him. “It won’t work, Drake.”

  Morgan turned to face him.

  Jake, his hip leaning against the side rail, nodded out toward the approaching ship and handed Morgan his spyglass. “That’s Wayward Hayes’s ship, Death Queen.”

  “Are you sure?” Morgan asked.

  “I smell his body odor from here. Besides, I’ve had enough run-ins with him to know his ship on sight. Though I didn’t know what he looked like until the other day, that’s one ship I know as well as I knew my own when I sailed. I’d be willing to wager he’s already figured out who you are.”

  Jake scratched his chin. “Guess you got your wish after all. You should be grateful, you didn’t even have to go to the Caribbean to find him.”

  “Yes, but I would much rather have faced him on my own terms, and not with two ruined sails.” Morgan let out a slow breath as he considered his options.

  The last thing he needed was a conflict with Hayes. Especially with his current, nosy guest. He didn’t like the thought of fighting while he had a female passenger on board. The risk to her safety was just too great.

  Morgan looked up at the sliced sails. “There’s no way to outrun him.”

  “Captain,” Lou interrupted from his position in the crow’s nest. “They just hoisted the Jolly Red.”

  Jake curled his lip. “Same Hayes. He’s not going to give quarter.”

  Morgan turned to the helm where Barney held the wheel. “Sound the alarm, Mr. Pitkern. There’s going to be a fight.”

  “I’ll take the helm while he does,” Jake offered. “But if I were you, Drake, I’d let it be known that the Marauder is still alive and well. Hayes might be smart enough to let us pass in peace. Even he has to fear something sometime.”

  Morgan considered the request. What would it matter to Hayes if he found out the Marauder and the Sea Wolf were one and the same? The price on the Marauder’s head was four times that of the Sea Wolf. “If I do that, she’ll know who we are.”

  Jake shrugged. “I don’t guess the sharks’ll care who we are when they’re making their meal off us. ’Course, you know what Hayes’ll do to your woman when he finds her. Maybe we should go ahead and cut her throat to save her the pain.”

  Jake was right. Hayes would never go easy on a woman he suspected was a pirate’s mistress.

  Morgan took a minute to watch his men hurry to their stations. They were all good sailors; some with families.

  His gaze fell to Barney and he sighed. He’d never hear the end of this once Barney found out what he’d been doing those years they were apart.

  And Serenity…

  “Be the Marauder, Drake,” Jake urged by his side.

  In spite of the seriousness of their situation, Morgan laughed. “Would you stop? You sound like an old nag.”

  Did he have any other choice?

  Not bloody likely.

  Reconciled to his fate, Morgan mumbled, “I think we should resurrect Black Jack and let the Marauder rest in peace.”

  Jake laughed. “If you remember, it’s said the Marauder killed Black Jack.”

  “For aggravating him, as I recall,” Morgan said before crossing the deck.

  For what seemed the hundredth time that morning, Morgan headed back to his cabin. He opened the door and stopped short.

  He’d left his flag trunk open.

  And Serenity sat on the floor with an ashen face as she held the flag he’d come for.

  Kit had been speaking, and stopped midsentence when he saw the captain.

  His face reddened. “I didn’t know you still had it, Captain,” he said by way of an apology.

  Serenity ran her hand over the black flag that bore the image of a grim reaper holding a sickle in one hand and a heart in the other.

  “Tell me,” she said, her tone icy as she rose slowly to her feet, “that you killed the Marauder and kept this as a souvenir.”

  It would do no good to lie. Government officials had plastered that flag all over the Colonies in an effort to locate its owner. That flag belonged to one of the fiercest pirates known.

  The Marauder. Second only to Black Jack Rhys when it came to the reputation of ruthlessness, it was a past Morgan had do
ne his best to bury.

  But that was the thing about the past—sooner or later it always came back to haunt him.

  Without explaining himself to her, he gently took the flag from her grasp.

  “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.

  “I’m saving our necks.” And with that simple phrase, he headed back to the deck.

  Serenity’s heart seemed to crumble as reality set in. Her Sea Wolf wasn’t some noble hero out to right all the wrongs of the world.

  Morgan was…

  Was…

  Morgan was a pirate! A real-life, cold-blooded, take-no-survivors, heave-ho and kill-all pirate!

  She reached out for the bunk, her legs suddenly weak. “He’s the Marauder,” she breathed, her vision dulling.

  “It’s all right, ma’am,” Kit assured her, moving to help her sit down before she fell.

  “All right,” she repeated in disbelief. “All right! He’s a pirate.” Her eyes widened in sudden realization. “You’re a pirate, too!”

  At least Kit had the decency to blush. “It’s not what you think.”

  Oh, it most certainly was! She wasn’t on board the ship of some romantic buccaneer who saved men’s lives and acted nobly. She was on the ship of a cold-blooded killer, of a man renowned for his fierce temper and quick saber.

  On more than one occasion, she’d listened to men talk about the Marauder in fearful whispers, as if by mentioning his name some horrible misfortune would befall them.

  “The captain retired from piracy years ago,” Kit explained. “I didn’t even know he still had the flag.”

  “Is that supposed to comfort me?”

  “But you don’t understand…”

  Not willing to hear any more from Kit, Serenity went after Morgan.

  She wanted an explanation from him. To hear from his own lips how he could be the Marauder.

  How could her Sea Wolf be a killer? How could her perfect hero do something so loathsome?

  On deck, she paused. Cannons had been uncovered and now stood ready with a crew of three manning each one. Atop the rigging were numerous men who had muskets and pistols at the ready.