How To Please a Pirate

by Mia Marlowe

  Gabriel smiled at this most astute observation. Daisy was obviously the brains of the outfit. He guessed her to be around ten. He turned his gaze to the next two, a pair as like as bookends, with thin blond braids dangling to their waists.

  “How about you?” he asked the twins. “Lily thinks I need my bottom tanned. Hyacinth wants me horse-whipped. Daisy may be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.” He tossed that most amiable niece a quick wink and she beamed back at him. “Would you two like to express an opinion?”

  The twins faced each other and Gabriel could almost see the silent conversation that went on between them. Then they turned back to him, solemn as judges, and shook their heads in unison.

  “That’s Poppy and Posey,” Daisy said helpfully. “They don’t talk much. Except to each other.”

  “Well, let me see if I have you all straight.” Gabriel pointed a finger at each girl as he ticked off the names. “Hyacinth, Daisy, Posey and Poppy—”

  “No, that’s Poppy and the other one’s Posey,” Daisy corrected.

  Gabriel squinted at the twins. They were identical to the last eyelash. “How can you tell?”

  “Poppy is the oldest, of course,” Daisy said as if that information was stamped on their faces.

  “Of course. A grave oversight on my part.” Gabriel nodded at the twins. “I crave your pardons, ladies.”

  The pair blinked at him and shot him gap-toothed grins.

  He cocked a brow at them and waggled his finger to Daisy, motioning her forward. “And just how do you know which is the oldest?” he said in a stage whisper.

  The twins giggled.

  “Poppy always stands on Posey’s left.” Daisy cupped her hand at her little bow of a mouth and matched his whisper. “Mrs. B says it’s how they started out and like to be how they’ll end up.”

  “And they never switch places just to fool people?”

  “Oh, they try sometimes,” Daisy admitted. “But then they think they’re so clever, they can’t keep from smirking a little and it gives the whole thing away.”

  Gabriel added sharp eyes to Daisy’s sharp mind in his tally of her attributes. He was already imagining his difficulty in trying to find a man to match her when she came of age. Most men shied away from women with too much in their noggins.

  Until he met the confounding Jacquelyn Wren, he’d have counted himself in their number.

  “They’ll probably get better at switching places as they get older,” Daisy said. “But by then, I’ll figure out another way to tell them apart.”

  “No doubt,” Gabriel said, already lightheaded from a vision of twin debutants. A squall on the horizon if ever he’d seen one.

  Why hadn’t his brother Rupert left at least one son?

  The smallest sister toddled over and patted his knee with her pudgy hand. Little baby-fat dimples indented each knuckle.

  “You forgot me,” she accused.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “You’re Lilac.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Lavender?” He pulled a face to make her laugh.

  She squealed with pleasure. “I’m not Lavender. My name is—.”

  “Wait a moment.” He snapped his fingers. “I have it. Your name is Licorice.”

  “You’re silly,” she said with a grin.

  “No, I’m your Uncle Gabriel,” he said, lifting her onto his knee. “And you’re Lily.”

  Lily snuggled close, her babyish smell wrapping an invisible hand around his heart and giving it a squeeze. Barring Uncle Eustace, the rest of his family was gone, but for better or worse, at least he had these girls. He needed to let them know they had him as well.

  “I’m new at this uncle business,” he admitted.

  “We noticed,” Hyacinth observed coolly.

  “However much it pains you, niece, we seem to be stuck with each other,” Gabriel said.

  Hyacinth had obviously conceived an intense dislike for him, but he was making inroads with the younger ones. The twins rocked on their heels, grinning at him and Lily investigated his pockets, hoping to find a sweetmeat. He made a mental note to make sure he was better provisioned next time.

  “What do you supposed an uncle might do for his nieces to prove his good will?” he asked.

  “You could be my pony,” Lily suggested. “We could ride around the garden.”

  The twins approved, hopping up and down and clapping their hands.

  “Pony rides it is, then. Up you go.” Gabriel leaned forward so Lily could crawl onto his back and wrap her arms around his neck.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Hyacinth said. “If you were truly concerned for us, you’d suggest riding lessons on real ponies, at the very least.” She turned a sly expression toward Daisy. “A proper uncle would be more interested in helping us with our studies.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Daisy said with a nod. “Especially as we are without a tutor at present.”

  Gabriel realized later that warning bells should have gone off in his head at this point. Hadn’t the girls’ previous tutor left shortly after he arrived under less than pleasant circumstances?

  But at the moment, Gabriel was more interested in gaining some allies in Dragon Caern. Jacquelyn thought the sun rose and set on these girls’ golden heads. What better way to soften Mistress Wren’s heart than to earn his nieces’ trust?

  “Quite right,” he said. “Being a naval man, I have some expertise with mathematics and astronomy related to navigation and such. What have you been studying?”

  “We were learning about the Colonies,” Daisy said. “More specifically about the aboriginal peoples they call American Indians.”

  “I’ve put into a few Colonial ports,” Gabriel said. “I may be able to help you with that subject.”

  “I’m sure of it.” Hyacinth bared her teeth at him in a feline smile, then under her breath, she said. “Daisy, get the rope.”

  Chapter 8

  Gabriel had survived the death of a ship. Before that, he’d acquitted himself admirably in dozens of skirmishes in defense of King and country. And once he turned pirate, his sword arm put the fear of his wrath into the heart of every member of his buccaneer crew.

  But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how to defend himself against his nieces. Not without harming them at any rate. They seemed so fragile. It was the chivalrous chink in his armor the little vixens were counting on and they weren’t disappointed. They swarmed over him in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Without knowing precisely how it happened, he found himself gagged with an embroidered handkerchief and bound tightly to the stone settee. His nieces were doing a fair imitation of an Algonquin war dance in a circle around him. Daisy appeared briefly in his field of vision with a leering grin and an armful of kindling.

  She disappeared beneath the settee for a few minutes.

  He wasn’t able to raise his head, but he thought he smelled sparks from steel and flint. What a fool he was. He’d been sure Daisy liked him.

  Obviously, he didn’t understand women at all. Even fledgling women.

  “Captain, what be the meaning of this caterwaulin’?” Meriwether’s voice boomed from the castle door.

  Salvation! And just in the nick. A wisp of smoke drifted from under the settee.

  “My lord, what devilry is afoot?” Mrs. Beadle’s voice came next.

  Gabriel tried to answer, but only managed a few disjointed sounds. The hanky made a deucedly effective gag.

  “Ach, Cap’n. Ye shouldn’t teach the children to play with fire. Might burn the wee dears’ fingers,” Meri said as he kicked the small blaze from under Gabe and stomped it to embers.

  Mrs. Beadle caught the two eldest by the ears. “No, no, missies. None of your running off or it’ll be the worse for you, I swear it,” Mrs. B scolded, her round face flushed with exasperation. “You stay right here and take your medicine, you little imps. Poppy and Posey, untie that gag you’ve stuffed in your poor uncle’s mouth.”

 
Their nimble fingers freed his lips as quickly as they’d bound him. Gabriel ran his tongue over his teeth trying to get the starchy taste of the hanky out of his mouth. The twins fumbled with the knot by his ear and finally gave up, shoving the rope that immobilized his head toward his hairline, taking a layer of hide from his forehead with it.

  He was able to turn his head now as the twins scrambled back to join their siblings. Mrs. Beadle had released her captives. His nieces were standing in their deceptively sweet semi-circle, hands folded before their bodies fig-leaf fashion, eyes demurely downcast.

  “I din’t bite him,” Lily said quickly.

  “Maybe not, but it’s not nice to cook people either. Not at all the done thing,” Mrs. Beadle said, with a shake of her jowls.

  “Aw, Mrs. B., these little mites weren’t out to cook the Cap’n,” Meriwether said. “Appears to me this whole thing was just a bit of high spirits what got out of hand.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows shot skyward, but Meri tossed him a warning glance.

  “Looks like a lesson gone awry. As a master mariner, the Cap’n has plenty to teach his nieces about knots and such.” His first mate leaned down to inspect one of the rope mazes still binding Gabriel to the settee. “First rate double clove hitch there.”

  “That one’s mine,” Daisy said with becoming modesty.

  “And a right good job ye made of it, darlin,’” Meriwether said as he pulled out a frog-sticker and slashed Gabriel’s bindings. “Now as no blood was let, I don’t see as there’s any call to punish the poppets. I reckon ye’re of the same mind, aren’t ye, Cap’n?”

  Gabriel sat up and rubbed his wrists, casting a dark glance at the girls, one by one. Hyacinth arched a cynical brow at him and looked away. Daisy gave him an apologetic shrug. The twins blinked owlishly and edged closer to each other. Mr. Meriwether’s excuses notwithstanding, Gabriel was about to demand punishment for the little heathens when Lily’s chin started to quiver.

  He might as well give himself up for lost right now and be done with it.

  “No, Mrs. Beadle, Meri’s got the right of it. We were just having a bit of fun. No harm done.” He waved the housekeeper off. “The girls and I are fine.”

  “Well, then, my lord, if ye’re certain . . . ,” Mrs. B. said, not sounding the least certain herself. She dropped a shallow curtsey. “I’ll be off with myself then. There are cherry pies in the oven that need tending.”

  Meriwether watched her go with a look of naked admiration on his craggy features.

  “What’s this?” Gabriel demanded. “Are you ogling my housekeeper now? I didn’t think you and Mrs. B. were getting on so well.”

  “Aye, not yet, we’re not, but she’s a widow, ye ken. Oh, she’s strong-minded and a bit broad of beam. Not that I ever held extra flesh against a woman,” Meriwether admitted. “But, I’ve been smelling those pies all morning. She’s a goddess in the kitchen, is Mrs. Beadle. A man can overlook quite a bit if there’s cherry pie in the offing.”

  Gabriel chuckled, and then turned back to his nieces who were still standing there hanging on the exchange.

  “Perhaps you’d better thank Mr. Meriwether,” he advised them. “He’s the one who saved you from Mrs. Beadle’s wrath. If it had been left to me . . .” Gabriel let the threat dangle unspoken.

  One by one, the girls murmured their thanks as they eyed the old pirate with horrified fascination. Meri ignored them, cleaning his snaggled nails with his dirk.

  Even Gabe had to admit, his first mate was an unlikely savior. With his gold tooth glinting and the honorary tribal tattoo sagging the leathery skin of one cheek, Joseph Meriwether must seem a fantastical creature from the ends of the earth to his nieces. Even the intrepid Daisy was too aghast to speak much above a whisper.

  “It’s passing strange that you should be their champion, Meri,” Gabriel said. “I would have said you weren’t fond of children particularly.”

  “Oh, I like children fine,” Meri said with a pointed look at the girls. “Boil the pith out of ‘em for an hour or so and they make a right tolerable stew.”

  The girls’ squeals of terror as they hoisted their skirts and ran almost made Gabriel’s near-roasting worthwhile.

  * * *

  “Is he following us?” Hyacinth demanded as she hunkered behind the stables with the twins beside her.

  “No, of course not,” Daisy said, putting Lily down to wobble on her own pudgy legs. “He was just shining us on. I’m certain of it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Almost certain.”

  “Don’t act so superior, Daisy. You were screaming as loudly as the rest of us,” Hyacinth accused. “That horrible Mr. Meriwether. I can’t imagine what possessed our uncle to bring him here. What absolute beasts! Both of them.”

  “Still, he did keep us from a whipping,” Daisy said. “And Uncle Gabriel, too. He didn’t have to let us go so easily, you know.”

  “Have you forgotten the way he was bedeviling Miss Jacquelyn?” Hyacinth said with a sniff. “If we don’t do something, he’ll be after her again.”

  “I’m not sure that isn’t what she wants,” Daisy argued. “Besides, she can fend for herself. I think I like Uncle Gabriel.”

  “I like Unca Gabrul, too,” Lily chimed in.

  The twins nodded.

  “But not that other. He a bad man,” Lily pronounced. “He eat children.”

  “Mr. Meriwether eats children just as much as we intended to truly roast our uncle. He was only trying to scare us, booby,” Daisy said, obviously feeling much braver now that Meriwether wasn’t actually close by. “Don’t you worry, though. We’ll get even with him.”

  “How?” Hyacinth asked.

  “We could put a toad in Mr. Meriwether’s bed,” Daisy suggested.

  “I got a toad,” Lily offered, pulling a flat amphibian from her grimy pocket.

  “That old pirate has the personal habits of a boar,” Hyacinth said, wrinkling her nose. “He probably wouldn’t even notice a toad between his sheets. We must think of something else.”

  Pepper in his tea, a cowpie in his boots—one of the twins even suggested a spider in his coffee, but since no one wanted to actually handle a spider that excellent idea was shelved.

  “Pity we’ve no brother,” Daisy said. “It’s times like these when one would come in handy.”

  “If we had a brother, we’d have no problem,” Hyacinth said, basking in the glow of superior knowledge. “Uncle Gabriel wouldn’t be lord if one of us had been a boy.”

  Hyacinth ended the debate with a clap of her thin hands.

  “That’s it. It’s not Mr. Meriwether we need to fix. It’s Uncle Gabriel. Since he got here, Mistress Jacquelyn is in a state and Mrs. Beadle is after us constantly to behave and not mess the house because of the ball that we aren’t allowed to attend,” Hyacinth said. “If we bedevil Uncle Gabriel back to the sea, he’ll take old Mr. Meriwether with him and everything will go back to the way it was. Then all we’ll have to manage is how to rid ourselves of the next tutor.”

  Daisy shook her head, mutinous for the first time. “No, Hy, whatever you’re planning, I won’t be part of it. I like Uncle Gabriel and I want him to stay.”

  Hyacinth narrowed her eyes at Daisy. “Fine. I will manage without you. Come, girls.”

  The twins consulted each other briefly, then sidled over to stand by Daisy. Lily sniffed, torn between her older siblings.

  “I like Unca Gabrul,” she finally said. “He smell good and he give good hugs and he play pony.”

  Hyacinth rose from her crouch with a regal shake of her head. “So be it. I will do it myself.” She glared at them. “Don’t think for a moment, I won’t.”

  Daisy folded her arms over her chest. “You’ve no clue how to proceed. Admit it, Hyacinth. You never had an original idea in your life.”

  “Well, I’ve got one now,” she lied. “And it’s brilliant. And when it works and there are no more pirates in Dragon Caern, you’ll all thank me. See if you don’t.” She pursed her
lips in an expression she was sure made her appear wise beyond her years. “And I’ll have no more of your sauce, Miss Daisy.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “I’ll not be holding my breath.”

  Chapter 9

  Dragon Caern’s armory was on the upper floor of one of the many round towers within the castle’s curtain walls. Shields emblazoned with the barony’s coat of arms hung at intervals and several ancient suits of armor stood as silent sentinels. Abundant light from countless arrow loops flooded the space and the ancient oak floor was polished with age to a glassy sheen. Through the centuries, countless squires and knights had exercised and honed their skill in the space, but this day only four feet trod the smooth planks.

  “You will find this small-sword very much more suited to your hand than what you’ve been using, my dear,” Father Eustace explained to Jacquelyn as he presented the new weapon to her hilt first. “Shorter than the rapier, light enough to wield one-handed with ease, it should answer any defensive need a lady might encounter.”

  Surely Father Eustace knew that a sword wouldn’t cure all defensive needs. Not if the woman wasn’t so sure she wanted to defend herself. Jacquelyn shook off that weak-minded thought and tested the blade with a few thrusts.

  “The balance is perfect.”

  “It pleases me to hear you say so, Mistress,” he said. “But in these times of peace, I should be counseling you to turning to plowshares instead of swords.”

  “You know I value your counsel, but I value your sword arm as well. Dragon Caern couldn’t ask for a better master-at-arms. Thank you for teaching me.” She flexed her knees and adopted a classic pose. “After all, before you turned to God, you were the best swordsman in Cornwall.”

  “Only because my brother had hung up his spurs and Gabriel was at sea,” he said with modesty. Father Eustace turned a sheepish eye on her. “I fear I honed my skill fighting my way out of more married ladies’ bedchambers than I can count. Husbands will come home when one least expects them.”

  Jacquelyn looked askance at him. “Surely, you exaggerate.”