A Pirate of her Own

by Kinley MacGregor

  It was eerily quiet, as if they were a painting and not a real crew. The only movement came from the pirate flag that was being drawn up the rigging.

  Suddenly a rough laugh sounded. “Morgan!” Jake called. “You’ve got to see Hayes’s face.”

  She watched as Jake handed the spyglass to Morgan.

  “I haven’t seen a man look so pale since that doctor in Jamaica told Robert Dreck he’d have to amputate his pecker.”

  Morgan didn’t answer, he just looked out at the approaching ship.

  Serenity’s cheeks grew warm from Jake’s crudity.

  Jake turned to face her and the smile on his lips died instantly. He nudged Morgan’s shoulder.

  Morgan lowered the spyglass and met her gaze.

  Something passed between them. Something Serenity couldn’t name. But it kept her spellbound as she watched him cross the deck to her side.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said to her. “I can read it on your face.”

  She stiffened. “What am I thinking?”

  “You’re judging me without knowing the facts.”

  “And what are the facts?”

  His face turned granite. It was probably the first time in his life someone had asked him to explain himself, and by the look of him, he wasn’t ready to do so.

  “The facts are that we are about to be attacked by Wayward Hayes. I’ve warned him who I am, but I doubt it’ll stop him from—”

  The sound of a cannon exploding interrupted him.

  “Incoming!” Jake roared.

  Morgan grabbed Serenity and pulled her to the deck.

  An instant later, the cannonball fell a few feet short of the ship. A huge tidal splash came over the edge, dousing the two of them.

  “Attacking!” Morgan finished his sentence.

  Terrified from the experience, Serenity stared at him in disbelief. He was enjoying this!

  His eyes actually twinkled in merriment.

  The man was mad. Insane!

  “Yep,” Morgan said with a sigh as he brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, “Hayes really wants me.”

  How could he be so blithe?

  Morgan raised his voice to shout to his crew. “Retaliate. Booty only to those who earn their keep!”

  She shook her head. “How can you be amused by this?”

  He gave her a rakish grin. “I live for this. It makes me feel alive.”

  “It makes me feel like I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, her stomach pitching in fear.

  Morgan pulled her to her feet. “We need to get you below.”

  “And if they sink the ship?” she asked, not wanting to be trapped below deck where she couldn’t get to a lifeboat.

  “There’s a greater risk of your being hit by a bullet or cannonball than there is of the ship going down.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Serenity said. Why should she, when everything about him was a lie. “Kit told me that it’s entirely likely.”

  Remembering how his ship the Rosanna had been torn apart during a similar fight with the British last year, Morgan decided she might be right. “Then I want you to hide over by those barrels and don’t move.”

  “Show me the way.”

  Serenity followed him to a small alcove.

  Morgan squeezed her elbow to reassure her. “Don’t worry.”

  She gave a very unladylike snort. “‘Don’t worry,’ he says. We’ve only got a madman trying to blow us out of the water, and the Marauder tells me not to worry.” She looked up and met Morgan’s gaze. “Tell me, Captain Pirate, at what point should I start to worry? When I see the whites of their eyes? Or when the sharks begin to circle me?”

  He smiled at her outrage. “I would say you should definitely start to worry when the sharks begin circling you.”

  “That’s what I love most about you, you’re just so comforting.”

  Morgan shook his head. She was a brave woman. Something inside him hated leaving her there to fend for herself, but he had too many other duties to attend.

  And a vicious enemy to confront.

  Serenity watched him cross the deck, checking on his men like a normal military commander. Cannon fire roared all around her with a deafening pitch and she placed her hands over her ears in an effort to protect them. Sulphur rolled across the deck in thick waves of odor that stung her lungs and brought tears to her eyes.

  “What have I gotten myself into?” she breathed. She must have been insane to ever wish for an adventurous life. Suddenly her days of safety hidden behind her large desk seemed a blessing.

  And yet, as she watched Morgan she realized that he really did love it. He was a natural leader as he confronted death.

  She widened her eyes as one cannonball whizzed just past his head, ripping a portion of one mast. The force of the damage sent splinters over Morgan and one grazed him. Blood creased his brow, and he absently wiped it away as if it didn’t concern him in the least.

  But it scared her. Terribly.

  It felt as if the battle raged on forever. And as every second ticked by, the explosions grew louder and louder.

  Until at last the crewmen’s shout went up louder than the cannons.

  “That’ll teach ’em to fly the Jolly Red,” Barney shouted. “Shove it up their bloomin’ arses!”

  Morgan looked more than well pleased with them, and Serenity raised her head up to peer over the side of the ship to where she could see the sloop. Large pieces of her side were missing and her masts had collapsed, and were now lying half on board and half in the water.

  They had done it. Somehow his crew had crippled the ship with very little damage to their own.

  She looked to Morgan, and a strange warmth glowed inside her. He stood shouting orders to Kit and Jake. His hair curled about his neck as the wind whipped through it. He gestured toward the ship with his sword.

  He turned to face her and her breath caught in her throat. He was marvelous. Marvelous and terrifying.

  This wasn’t her dream pirate who never hurt another soul. This was a flesh and blood man with his own ideas—archaic ideas that clashed with hers.

  A man who was powerful and dangerous.

  He approached her.

  Her mouth became as dry as a desert. She rose to stand on unsteady feet.

  “Glad to see you survived, Miss James.”

  In spite of everything that had happened, she gave a nervous laugh. “I wasn’t so sure you’d survive,” she said, brushing at the cut on his cheek. Though his cheek was cold, his blood was warm against her fingertips.

  Morgan swallowed at her hesitant touch. Something happened inside him. Something he couldn’t name. Something that wanted things from her he knew he couldn’t ask her to give.

  He wanted her. Right now, this instant, with the thrill of victory still hot and thick in his veins.

  He wanted to celebrate this conquest with an even greater one.

  Before he could stop himself, he pulled her up to him and kissed her long and deep.

  She hesitated only a moment before she gave in to him, opening her lips so that he could plunder the rich treasure of her mouth.

  She tasted of honey and sweetness. Of innocence and passion, and he knew then that against all reason he was going to have her.

  That he had to have her.

  One way or another, he would claim her body.

  Chapter 9

  “Hayes is dead!”

  At Jake’s cry, Morgan looked up.

  “What?” he asked in disbelief.

  Jake nodded toward the Death Queen and the body two of the crew held up to show them that their captain was no longer a threat. “He must have been hit during the fight.”

  Morgan released Serenity, unable to believe he had at last purged the world of one demon.

  Jake jumped down from the railing and came over to them. He eyed Serenity with a malice Morgan knew all too well. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me cut her throat.”

  Morgan looked at her over h
is shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can guarantee you, Serenity will never tell this particular story.”

  “How? You going to cut out her tongue and take her hands?”

  “Nay, I have an even better idea.”

  Serenity was chilled to her bones at the tone of voice Morgan used. Not to mention the grisly image she held of what Jake had just described doing to her and her precious neck. Involuntarily she clutched at her throat.

  Could Morgan really kill her?

  Looking at the coldness on his face, she decided she would rather walk the plank into a shark’s nest than be alone with him.

  “Jake,” Morgan said, “you take the helm of the Death Queen and the Revenge will tow you into port. We’ll need to make repairs on the Revenge before we go any further.”

  Jake gave an evil smile as he leaned one hip against the edge of the ship’s starboard railing. “Just what I need, a good pirate ship with a good pirate crew.”

  “Jake,” Morgan said his voice full of warning. “Try to remember, Black Jack Rhys met the Marauder…and lost. Last anyone heard, he was swimming at the bottom of the ocean.”

  Jake smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “You take all the fun out of things.”

  “I certainly hope so. The last thing you need is for someone to report to the American or English government that you’re alive and well.” Morgan turned to Barney. “Make ready to sail, Mr. Pitkern. Our headings have changed to Santa Maria Island.”

  Then Morgan faced Serenity, and she realized her hopes of him forgetting her were in vain. “You and I need to talk.”

  Terror consumed her. “Talk about what? How you’re going to kill me?” That was certainly one discussion she didn’t want to have. One she could wait a long time to have, in fact.

  He didn’t answer.

  “How about if I stay…” her voice trailed off as he directed a look at her that made her tremble.

  Very well, she thought. She would follow him, and if he made a move to hurt her, she promised herself he would long regret it.

  At least she would try to make him long regret it.

  Of course, the worst thing she could probably manage would be to bleed on him. Fine revenge, that.

  Morgan led her to his cabin and held the door open for her to enter. Serenity tried to be brave, really she did, but her imagination was working overtime. Too easily she could envision all sorts of horrors he had planned to keep her silent.

  He closed the door with an ominous thud.

  She noted that his gaze drifted to the curtains and his jaw flexed.

  A sudden chill skidding up her spine, she asked quietly, “You’re not still angry about those, are you?”

  His look would have melted an iceberg. “My anger where you’re concerned runs so deep that…” His voice trailed off. He shook his head as if reconsidering his words, and paced along one side of the room.

  She felt as though she had died and was waiting for Saint Peter to choose her eternal sentence. Time seemed to hang suspended as he paced the room, his boots clicking against the planks of the floor.

  The windows to his cabin were open, and a soothing breeze ruffled the curtains she wished she had never made.

  She inched closer to the door.

  Maybe she could make it out…

  “All right, Miss James,” he began at last, making her jump. “I’m going to do what I’ve never done before.”

  She made ready to run. “From the stories I’ve heard, Captain, there’s absolutely nothing the Marauder hasn’t done. Why, I’ve even been told you eat children and infants for breakfast.”

  Morgan let out a low growl. “If you don’t hold your tongue, I might serve you up to the crew for dinner.” He clenched his hands into fists at his side and paused before her as if gathering his thoughts.

  Her way to the door momentarily blocked, she had no choice but to look up at him and his cinnamon-colored eyes that burned with raw anger.

  When he spoke again his voice was low, and yet it seemed to fill the entire space of the room. “I know what you must be thinking.”

  “That you’re a pirate who is now going to kill me?” she asked before she could think better of it.

  Her words seemed to make him relax. A little. The corners of his lips twitched and his eyes softened. “Very well, I knew half of what you were thinking.”

  Unsure if she should take a breath in relief or a mad dash at the door, she asked, “Which half?”

  “Don’t interrupt.”

  Serenity stiffened at his gruff command. It was foolish to goad him, but at this point, did she really have anything to lose? Besides, she wasn’t one to just stand by and wait for him to hand down his judgment at his leisure.

  She wanted to know her fate.

  “Don’t interrupt? I do believe, Captain Death Pirate, that I have a right to know what you intend to do to me. Or is not telling me part of the torture you use on your victims?”

  He became ramrod stiff again.

  “As I was saying,” he began, ignoring her question. “I realize you don’t know how to take in all the information you’ve just been given. But you have to understand exactly what you heard.”

  “What I heard,” she said, her voice shaking with pent-up fear and heartbreak, “is that the man I thought was an American hero is actually a low-down, thieving murderer who has no more regard for human life than…than—”

  Morgan grabbed her by the arms, and she could tell that he wanted to shake her. “You have no idea of the things I’ve seen,” he said, his voice so sharp it could slice iron. “I was a pirate—once. I’m not denying that, nor do I make excuses for it. I was young, angry, and desperate. Three things that make a most lethal combination. I wanted blood from the Brits and I wanted blood from my enemy.”

  “And you were willing to do anything for it.”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart shattered even more. It was true. He was the Marauder.

  Still, she wanted him to deny it. To tell her that he had never harmed anyone undeserving. That he was the same caliber as her fictitious hero. That he, Morgan, would never lie, never rape, never…

  “You killed innocent people?” she asked, desperate for him to redeem himself.

  “If they got in my way.”

  With one sentence, he had vanquished the last of her hope.

  Douglas was right. She was a dreamer, and no man could ever be as honorable as the men she imagined for her stories. They were phantoms. Horrible, wretched phantoms she had created to save her from this reality.

  The death of her dream brought an ache to her chest that almost suffocated her.

  She tried to push him away, but he held her fast. “My God, you’re a monster,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said quietly. His eyes darkened and she saw the regret and sorrow that filled him. “I’m simply a man who sold his soul for vengeance.”

  In spite of everything she’d just learned about him, an urge filled her to comfort him.

  He was tortured by his past, even a blind man could see it. His regret ran soul-deep, and that wasn’t an illusion.

  The breeze ruffled his loose hair. Even now, he was devastatingly handsome, more so with his vulnerability laid bare before her. He was asking her forgiveness. She could sense it. But who was she that he would ask such?

  She wasn’t one of the men he had cut down in cold blood as the Marauder.

  “I’m not proud of what I did, Serenity,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “But I want you to understand that I never flew the Jolly Red. I’ve never killed a man who couldn’t defend himself.”

  Did she dare believe him? “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  He released her as if she disgusted him. “Then believe what you will. I won’t be held responsible for the lies of a gossiping tongue.”

  Serenity watched as he went to look out the windows. He braced one hand on the low overhang and leaned his head against his biceps. The waves swelled in the wake of the ship
while he stood as still as a statue.

  She didn’t know what to say, or feel. Athousand emotions whirled through her—confusion, disappointment, fear.

  He wasn’t what she’d thought him to be. Maybe that was her own fault. She had built him up into a legend no man could possibly compete with.

  Even though she’d dreamed of pirates and fantasized about Morgan being one, she’d never really considered him one of the loathsome pack.

  Not a true pirate.

  He was supposed to be Randolf. A gentleman pirate who toyed with other ship’s crews, but never actually hurt them.

  It didn’t make sense to her. She could believe Jake was a cold-blooded pirate. He’d shown himself to be anything but merciful or kind. But that didn’t fit Morgan. He could have ordered her killed to silence her. He didn’t.

  He could have killed Hayes’s crew.

  Again, he didn’t.

  He could have turned his back on Ushakii and allowed him to live out his life in slavery. But he hadn’t done that either. Nor did he have to free American sailors from the British.

  It didn’t make sense to her. How could a man capable of such goodness also be capable of such ruthlessness?

  “Would you answer me one question?” she asked, moving to lay one hand on his arm. “Tell me how the Marauder became the Sea Wolf.”

  Refusing to meet her gaze, he sighed. “That’s a long story.”

  Part of her begged to let it go at that. But she couldn’t. She had to understand him. To know how a man like the Marauder could change—if a man like the Marauder could change.

  With a teasing smile, she lowered herself until she met his downward gaze. “Well, I certainly have nowhere to go and nothing really better to do—except make more curtains.”

  He gave her a hostile glare.

  She knew she should be terrified, but she sensed the danger had passed. He wasn’t going to kill her. Of that she was certain. “Well?”

  Morgan looked away from her and shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. Fate had thrown Serenity into his life and now it had given her the knowledge to destroy him.

  He had committed horrible crimes in his past, he knew that. Even now he could hear the screams of men blown to pieces while he ordered his gun crews to continue their assault.