A Pirate of her Own

by Kinley MacGregor

  “How dreadful!” Serenity gasped, picking up spare dough from the table. She pulled off little pieces and added them to the pot. “The poor fellow.”

  “But wait,” Court said, his face beaming with enthusiasm. “Pa’s just getting to the good part.”

  “Mind your chores, boy,” Cookie snapped in his usual distemper. “Now, where was I?”

  “The pirate had explained his peg leg,” Serenity said, stirring the dough into the pot.

  “Oh, aye. Well now, the younger pirate was awed to be sure so next he asked, ‘What about the hook?’ ‘Arrrrr,’ said the old pirate, ‘the hook came when we were firing our cannons at the fort in St. Augustine. I’d just loaded a cannonball and lit the fuse when a blast jarred me ship and the cannon swung around toward our hull. Without thinking, I reached out and pulled the cannon around—saved me ship, but the cannon went off and took me hand with it. So I picked up a hook from the riggings and jammed it in me bloody stump, and that’s how I got me hook.’”

  Serenity visibly cringed and made an awful face. Morgan bit his lip to keep from laughing. She made an adorable sight. One that made his mouth water even more than the delicious aroma that was coming from the pot she stirred.

  Court picked up a broom and started sweeping the floor around the stove and table.

  Cookie continued, “‘Incredible!’ said the young fellow. ‘So how’d you get the patch?’ ‘That was the most grisly of all, boy,’ said the pirate. ‘It was after the battle, later that very same day, while we was pillaging the port. I grabbed me a feisty woman, had a bag of gold over my shoulder, and was headin’ back to me ship when I heard a strange noise overhead. I looked up, and there was a huge seagull flying over.’”

  “A seagull?” Serenity asked.

  “Aye,” Cookie said with a rare smile. “The old pirate had looked up at it and it capped him right in the eye.”

  She frowned. “Capped him?”

  “Well, Miss James, it unloaded itself, if you know what I mean.”

  By her blush, Morgan could tell she understood.

  “So, the young lad looks at the old pirate and says, ‘But that doesn’t explain the patch.’ ‘Aye, matey,’ he said. ‘’Twas me first day with the hook.’”

  Morgan bit his lip to stifle his laughter. However, Serenity gave a delightful, hearty laugh that filled his ears with music.

  “That’s so terrible!” she gasped with a fake shudder. “Wherever did you hear such?”

  Cookie began wiping the table clean. “You hear a lot of jokes from the sailors while they’re eating.” A frown settled down on his brow and it was obvious the matter bothered him for some reason.

  Serenity placed a hand on Cookie’s shoulder and in spite of the ridiculousness of it, a stab of jealousy whipped through Morgan. She wasn’t supposed to comfort a man.

  Come to think of it, why, she was down here against his orders!

  “You should tell the captain how you feel, Mr. Rodale,” she said quietly. “Let him know that you’d like to have more help so you can go topside during the day.”

  Cookie scoffed. “What, and turn them surly oafs loose in my galley without me? I shudder to think what they might do. Just my luck, they’d use gunpowder for pepper and then we’d all be in a fine fix.”

  Smiling, she rolled her eyes and turned back to check on her pot.

  Court stopped his sweeping, his face beaming with a smile. “I’ve got a joke, Miss James!”

  Serenity tapped the spoon twice against the pot and added the lid. “All right, Mr. Court, let us hear yours.” She moved aside to allow Cookie to place the biscuits inside the oven.

  Court went back to his sweeping. “There was once this brave captain whose ship was in danger of being boarded by pirates. So the good captain looked to his cabin boy and shouted, ‘Bring me my red shirt!’ The cabin boy quickly ran to his cabin and brought back the captain’s red shirt, which the captain put on posthaste. The battle raged on all day, but in the end, they were victorious and the pirates were punished.”

  He paused to cuddle the broom in the crook of his arm and scratch his nose before continuing. “Two days later they spotted three ships of pirates and the captain, just as calm as ever, again called for his cabin boy to bring him his red shirt. Again the battle lasted all day and again the captain was victorious. Well, later that night, the crew was recounting their war stories about the pirates when the quartermaster asked the captain why it was he always wanted a red shirt to wear during battle. So the captain, giving the quartermaster one of those looks that only a captain can manage to give, said, ‘I wear me red shirt in case I get wounded in battle. That way no one will know that I am hurt and the rest of you will continue to fight without any worry over me. His crew was much impressed by his words.” Court stopped sweeping and nodded at her. “It’s a brave thing to be wounded and not let it show.”

  Serenity nodded in agreement, her face sweet and indulgent like a proud mother’s. “Go on.”

  “Well,” Court said, “About a week later, the lookout called down to the captain that there were ten pirate ships headed their way. Every man-jack on board quivered in his boots and they all looked to the captain for guidance. The captain stood just as proud as ever and called calmly to the cabin boy, ‘Boy, bring me…my brown pants.’”

  Serenity’s eyes bulged.

  Cookie bellowed in rage. “Now, what kind of joke is that to be telling a lady? I raised you better than that, boy!”

  And just as Cookie reached for Court, Serenity grabbed his hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Rodale. He meant no harm.”

  Court looked like he’d been struck already. “I’m sorry, Pa. I just wanted to make her laugh, too.”

  Serenity gave Court a reassuring hug. “It was a fine story to tell other boys, but your father’s right. You shouldn’t tell such jokes in mixed company.”

  He hung his head and the broom dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss James.”

  She gave him another squeeze before she retrieved the broom and returned it to his hands. “Nothing to apologize for. You were just trying to make me happy and that is a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Mr. Rodale?”

  Cookie’s eyes narrowed. “Not as fine as me tanning his backside for such.”

  “Mr. Rodale,” she said with a warning note in her voice.

  Something happened to Morgan as he watched her comfort Court while scolding one of the worst-tempered men he had ever known. Something scary and unfamiliar.

  A tenderness came over him for her.

  A strong desire to make her laugh just as they’d done. A desire to hold her close and watch her…

  Watch her what?

  Comfort his own children?

  It was there, just a spark of an idea. Aquick flash of remembered longing so deeply buried within him that he’d forgotten its existence. But yes, long ago, before he’d made the mistake of marrying Teresa, he’d wanted children and a family. A wife who would stand by his side. Someone who would love him for himself and who would never let him go.

  But his image of that bride hadn’t been a strong-minded, irritating woman who locked him out of his own room. A woman who challenged every idea he held.

  He wanted to run away from these strange feelings, to find a safe haven and never again think about them. But he couldn’t. Cowardice was one crime he’d never committed, and it went against every part of him to turn tail and run.

  Especially from her.

  “Miss James?” he said, moving forward into the light.

  She looked up and the color drained from her face. “Captain,” she said coldly.

  Cookie appeared somewhat embarrassed by being caught with her. Court quickly ran from the room, his broom trailing along behind him.

  Morgan watched the boy’s scampering and then turned to face Serenity. “I wish a word with you, Miss James.”

  “Well, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said, lifting the lid on the pot and stirring the contents. “I’m in the middle
of helping Mr. Rodale with—”

  “Cookie won’t mind sparing you for just a few minutes.”

  She slammed the lid back on the pot.

  Then the most unbelievable thing happened, Cookie moved between them and directed a warning gaze to Morgan. “Seems the lady doesn’t wish to be alone with you, Captain.”

  Flabbergasted, Morgan stared at the man. No one had ever in his adult life defied him, especially not a member of his own crew.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Morgan asked, his voice lethal.

  “Aye, Captain. I’m protecting the girl. It ain’t proper for her to be alone with you and you well know it.”

  Serenity felt the anger bleeding from Morgan. Unwilling to let her new friend be harmed, she quickly moved forward. “It’s all right, Mr. Rodale. I—I can speak with him.”

  Cookie’s eyes narrowed on Morgan with dire warning burning bright. “I can trust you to mind your manners?”

  Morgan stiffened and his nostrils flared.

  Instead of being frightened by his captain, who had life-and-death control over him, Mr. Rodale looked at her. “If he offends you, lass, you let me know and I’ll be serving him up a purging concoction for his supper.”

  She smiled at Mr. Rodale’s threat.

  Until she faced Morgan, and then her smile died upon her lips. “After you, Captain.”

  Her reluctance burned through Morgan as he led her back to his cabin and the privacy it offered.

  Be gentle with her, he reminded himself. Take your time. Remember she is still embarrassed and shy. Give her time to get used to you all over.

  But what he really wanted to do was strangle her for turning his crewman against him.

  How did she do it? How in the world did she get near the surly cook when no one else had been able to get so much as a how-do-you-do from the man?

  Confrontation will get you nowhere. You know that.

  Easy, Morgan.

  Moving to stand in the center of his cabin, she turned to face him.

  He started to shut the door, then thought better of it.

  Easy.

  “How long have you been sneaking to the galley to be with Cookie?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She arched her brows incredulously. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

  He disregarded her jibe. “I thought I made it clear that you weren’t to go alone to the galley.”

  “You also made it clear that I could trust you with my person, and you breached that trust. How can I trust anything you say?”

  He flinched at the anger in her voice and the truth of her words. “You can trust me.”

  “Ha! You’ve lied to me from the start. Let me believe you were some noble gentleman with my best interest at heart and instead you make free with your hands the first moment we’re alone.”

  He had expected her to be embarrassed, not outraged. Instead of the fearful, delicate flower he had expected to comfort, she was a hellcat spitting and hissing at him. Blaming the whole event on him.

  Well, it wasn’t his fault solely! Who did she think she was, looking so delectable, wearing men’s clothes and stealing his breath.

  She never should have agreed to go to the deck with him in the first place. She should have known better.

  Aye, a woman knew not to let a man get her alone! It was her fault as much as it was his.

  His own temper flying, he moved to stand before her. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind my touch.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she advanced on him without warning.

  Too stunned to think, he took a couple of steps backwards.

  “You are low,” she accused, poking her finger in his chest.

  He backed up a few more steps.

  “Vile!” she continued. “Only a blackguard would say such. Who do you think you are, sir? No, wait, allow me to answer. You’re a black-hearted pirate who takes what he wants.”

  He wanted to answer her insults, but his mind was too stunned to think of an appropriate response. No one had ever confronted him thus.

  As she stood before him, her legs braced wide apart and one hand on her hip, she looked like a savage lioness about to tear its prey into pieces.

  He backed up until the wall prevented him from any further withdrawals.

  “Well, sir,” she said, again poking her finger into his chest to emphasize her words. “I suggest you find another way to occupy yourself, for this miss isn’t to be had by the likes of you.”

  His eyes narrowing at being trapped, Morgan slid from between her and the wall.

  Again she advanced on him, backing him up as she railed. “We have two more days until we reach Santa Maria and Mr. Rodale has assured me that there are several trading ships that dock there whose captains are willing to take passengers. I intend to be one of those passengers. So do us both a favor and stay away from me until then.”

  It was only then that he realized she had backed him out of his cabin.

  Before he could blink, she stepped back into the room and slammed the door in his face.

  “Woman!” he bellowed as he heard the lock click into place.

  He saw red. Instinctively, he tried the handle.

  Oh, it was locked all right.

  This was it!

  He’d had enough.

  His anger coursed through his veins like fire and without thinking, he stomped to the storage room down the corridor where the tools were stored.

  The room was tidy and orderly, with several axes secured against the far wall. Grabbing the one nearest him, he retraced his steps back to his cabin.

  The wooden handle chafed the flesh of his palms as he gripped the ax tightly in both hands. It was time Miss Serenity James learned he wasn’t some lapdog for her to command.

  No one told Morgan Nathaniel Drake what to do or where to go.

  No one!

  He paused before the door, listening to her tirade on the other side.

  “Ooo, he makes me so mad. I thought I told you not to go to the galley alone,” he heard her say in a mocking voice. “Really! As if he’s afraid some nice man would harm my reputation after what he did.”

  She spoke louder, as if she knew he was on the other side. “I wish I were a man so that I could pound you to dust, Captain Drake. A sound thrashing is what you deserve.”

  A thrashing! his mind snarled.

  Aye, that sounded like a good idea to him. Thrash the little vixen. Show her who was in charge!

  Before he could think twice, he raised the ax and brought it down upon the door.

  Just as she started disrobing, Serenity heard the sound of wood splintering. Her heart pounding, she watched as pieces of the door broke apart and the shiny silver head of an ax shredded the wood.

  The lock gave way and the door thundered back on its hinges. Morgan stood in the doorway, a dark ominous look on his brow as he held the ax down by his side. “Don’t you ever lock another door against me.”

  She should be terrified, she knew that. Yet he stood there with death itself etched on his face, holding the ax like a great woodsman as he glared his rage at her.

  Every fiber of his body was tense, and the tattered door swung back and forth with the rhythm of the ship.

  It was a ridiculous sight.

  All this because she’d locked the door?

  In spite of herself, she laughed. Deep and loud. She couldn’t stop.

  Until she remembered what she wore. Or more to the point, what she didn’t wear. With a cry of alarm, she rushed to the bed and pulled the quilt off to wrap around her shoulders.

  Morgan couldn’t move. His ears were still ringing with her laughter as he watched her sprint to his bed, wearing only her thin camisole that emphasized every sweet feminine curve she possessed.

  “What the blazes were you doing?” he asked, dumbfounded to have caught her in the midst of undressing.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  And then he saw it. Her laundry was once again str
ung out across his cabin.

  “Laundry?” he asked, his brow knotted in confusion. “You were doing laundry?”

  She stiffened her spine. “I was about to take a bath, if you must know,” she snapped. “It seemed a good way to vent my anger. At least more practical than destroying doors.”

  He tightened his grip on the ax handle, wishing it were her neck he grasped. “I thought I told you water was scarce.”

  “You did, but Mr. Rodale and Court brought me a barrel of rainwater this morning so that I could have a bath and wash my clothes. Rather than insult them, I thought I would respect their kindness. But had I known you would throw a tantrum, I assure you I would have waited.”

  Now it was his turn to see the humor.

  He had thrown a tantrum. There was no other word to describe what he’d done.

  He drew a deep breath to calm his racing heart. What was it about this woman that made his emotions so volatile?

  He’d always prided himself on his even moods.

  On his ability to handle even the most difficult situation with calm dignity and rationality.

  But when it came to her, his iron control melted like butter.

  Was there any way to make a graceful exit from this fiasco? He glanced around at the remnants of the door strewn about the floor and Serenity standing by his bunk, draped in his quilt.

  There was definitely no way to make a graceful exit.

  “Gather up your clothes,” he said in a low voice. “I won’t be able to repair the door until we get to Santa Maria. You can dress in Barney’s room and I’ll…”