How To Please a Pirate

by Mia Marlowe

  Her gaze darted to Jacquelyn and then when no help seemed to be coming from that quarter, Hy’s watering eyes shifted back to him. “Yes, Uncle. I’m not likely to forget.”

  “Good. See to it that the incident is never repeated,” he said. Her chin quivered so, he didn’t feel the need to lecture her further. It was much easier to deliver a tongue lashing to a bosun’s mate who grimly withstood the verbal blistering than dress down a slip of a girl who looked ready to dissolve into tears any moment. “And don’t you think it were best if your sisters avoid the same mistake?”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  “And you too, Daisy.” Gabriel turned his attention to her. “You willfully sneaked into the ball without permission, did you not?”

  “Well, if you want to put it so baldly. Yes, I suppose I did,” Daisy said, her eyes wide with surprise at being included in the reprimand. “But if I hadn’t—”

  “Your helpfulness later does not change the fact that you disobeyed a direct order to begin with,” Gabriel said, forcing himself to glare at her with sternness. Fear of him might save the girls from folly later. He was willing to be the false villain today to keep them from a real one tomorrow. “Both you and Hyacinth are responsible for making your little sisters share in your punishment.”

  The twins shot Daisy and Hyacinth accusatory glares. Lily stuck her little tongue out at them and then dumped a pail of soapy water on the floor.

  “Very well. I don’t want this detail dismissed until every stone in the chamber sparkles,” Gabriel said. “Carry on, Mr. Meriwether.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n.” Meri saluted, then his tone went soft as mush as he knelt beside the littlest Drake. “Oh, now Miss Lily, don’t take on so. When we’re finished here, we’ll hie ourselves to the kitchen to see if Mrs. Beadle has any more of them excellent cherry pies.”

  Gabriel rubbed his hands together, satisfied the issue was summarily dealt with. “Now what must a man do in order to be served breakfast around here?”

  “For a start, he might rise before noon,” Jacquelyn observed tartly.

  Was the day really so far gone? He’d slept far better than one burdened with his sins ought. No doubt, the romp with Lyn was responsible, but she didn’t appear nearly as rested. He was about to say as much when Mrs. Beadle’s appearance in the doorway saved him from a comment he might later regret.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord.” Mrs. B. dipped in a bulky curtsey. “The Lady Harlowe has arrived. I took the liberty of escorting her to the solar to wait your pleasure.”

  “Lady Harlowe?” he asked, groaning inwardly. The woman could hardly help her unfortunate likeness to a fish, but her cold personality had left Gabriel just as flaccid. “Millicent Harlowe?”

  “The very same in all her glory,” Jacquelyn said as she began to lead the way toward the solar. He followed like a lamb to the slaughter. “The opportunity to wed a viscount’s daughter is not so lightly dismissed. You needn’t act surprised. I told you there would be further interviews today with your prospective brides.”

  “And you had to start with Lady Harlowe?”

  “A baron cannot afford to choose a bride merely with his eyes.” She turned around to face him, hands on her hips.

  “If it’s the Drake lineage we’re trying to further, it would certainly help if the lady’s appearance didn’t curdle milk.”

  “Fear not, my lord. Miss Elisheba Thatcher is scheduled to visit on the morrow. I suspect a pretty face is more to your liking.”

  He leaned into her, pinning her against the wall between his long arms. “You know very well what’s to my liking.”

  She pressed herself against the stone at her back and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Unfortunately, we cannot demand the ladies line up to see how well they bed you before you make your selection.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Lyn—”

  “Please,” she hissed. “Please do not call me by that name, my lord.”

  “I liked it better when you called me Gabriel.”

  She closed her eyes, a thin line of anguish appearing between her even brows.

  “Are we to pretend it never happened?” He inhaled her fresh scent and narrowly resisted the urge to kiss her. “You’re all I can think of.”

  She trembled.

  He nuzzled her temple, brushing her satin skin with his lips. Even though Lady Harlowe was waiting, he’d like nothing better than to raise Lyn’s skirts and take her again right there in the hall.

  Or better still, to carry her back up to his chamber. The rest of the day would be none too long for loveplay with the bewitching Lyn. His body cheered this line of thinking with an aching cockstand. He was ready to scoop her into his arms, Devil take the hindermost, when Jacquelyn opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  The ice in her gray gaze froze his rising ardor.

  “Hyacinth is not the only one who was guilty of an error last night. You and I committed a grievous one. An error that could hurt all of Dragon Caern. One that I shall take pains to see we do not repeat.” She ducked under his arm and escaped down the hall toward the solar.

  “You were free enough with punishment for the girls, my lord. Time to do your penance with Lady Harlowe. After all,” she said over her shoulder. “Die all, die merrily.”

  Chapter 19

  Jacquelyn flopped over onto her belly and pounded her pillow with her fist. Hours ago, she’d heard the chapel bell chime midnight and still sleep fled from her. Resting her cheek on the freshly subdued eiderdown, she forced her eyes closed and tried not to think.

  Nothing would banish Gabriel Drake’s form and face from her mind.

  Bloody pirate, she thought crossly. He’d not only stolen her maidenhead, he’d stolen her ability to sleep as well.

  No, that was not quite fair. She’d willingly surrendered her virginity to him. Then her innocence fled away completely in their wild night of passion. If she was brutally honest, she admitted she wasn’t forced into any of it. In fact, she’d all but seduced him the second time.

  But he rose each morning looking as if he’d slept the sleep of the just and she grew more haggard by the day. Truly, there was no justice in the world.

  Perhaps it was the nightly round of drinking Gabriel and Mr. Meriwether still indulged in that allowed him to rest. She often heard them, singing their heathen pirate songs and laughing at ribald jokes. Once, she’d crept out onto the landing and listened, shocked to her curled toes at some of the lyrics, but as soon as she heard his booted tread on the stairs, she’d scurried back to the safety of her chamber.

  Jacquelyn had done a bit of rearranging in there to guard against future trysts. She’d had Timothy move her heavy armoire so it was in front of the spot where the secret panel opened into the passageway. She thought she’d heard Gabriel’s muffled curse behind the wall one night as he tried in vain to force the door open.

  But only once.

  Bother the man. She rolled over onto her back, tugging at her nightshift. The blasted thing kept riding up to bunch at her waist, leaving her legs and crotch to brush against the bed linens. Her body started its nightly mutinous complaint, the dull ache that kept her from sleep. She rubbed herself with the heel of her hand before she even realized she was doing it. Shocked, she pulled her hand away.

  No, I will not turn into a spineless wanton.

  She threw back the coverlet and swung her legs out of bed. Jacquelyn began pacing.

  A league or two around the room should do the trick.

  She wondered afresh if this was how her mother started down the slippery path to becoming a courtesan. Had there been a man who so ignited a fire in her, Isabella had been powerless to contain it?

  “But I am not my mother,” she mumbled as she shrugged on a robe over her nightshift. Good Lord! Now he has me talking to myself!

  Who could say what other lows the man might reduce her to?

  Isabella always maintained that her life as a woman of pleasure was a merry one, filled with e
ndless parties and frivolity and song. But all Jacquelyn knew was that once her mother’s protector abandoned her, Jacquelyn was summarily evicted from her posh school and forced to make her own way in the world. Her mother’s lover provided a pension for Isabella, but it wasn’t sufficient to keep a “bird of paradise” in the style to which she was accustomed and support her grown daughter.

  Mother has always been weak, Jacquelyn decided with a grim nod. Just as firmly, she decided she would not be.

  Her body might clamor for more of the delights Gabriel Drake could bestow, but her will determined that she would not jeopardize the estate for the sake of her own pleasure.

  Now if she could only be certain her will was stronger than her body.

  She had to see Gabriel suitably wed. Anything that distracted him from that purpose had to be discarded.

  Even if it was her.

  A knock at her door stopped her mid-stride. She lit the candle at her bedside and padded to the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Me.”

  Gabriel—confound the man—Drake. She sighed. Had she somehow summoned him with all her muttering and pacing? Perhaps the man was like a stallion, who could catch wind of the mare in season one paddock over.

  She threw the bolt and opened the door only enough to glare out at him through the narrow slit.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed through the crack. “Someone may see you.”

  “Then you’d better let me in quickly before they do.”

  Blast the man, he made sense. Propriety would not be served by engaging in a whispered argument in public, so she stepped back and let the door fall open.

  He entered without a sound, but Jacquelyn regretted allowing him in already. He seemed to fill the room, not just with his muscular frame, but with his unique masculine scent as well—a fresh mix of clean male skin with the barest hint of a sea breeze. Jacquelyn threw the bolt behind him, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Thank you for letting me in,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to, you know. It’s not as if I’d force you.”

  No need, since her body was already his willing ally. Wasn’t this how Lucifer wormed his way into the Garden? With silver-tongued persuasion and a reasonable tone?

  “What do you want?” she asked, then wished she’d bitten her tongue in two. The bold look of desire on his face was answer without need of words. She cinched the sash at her waist and folded her arms across her chest.

  She willed him to see the ‘go away’ stamped on her face. Surely there was no way the man could know how he made her insides caper about.

  “You’re not sleeping,” he said.

  “How can I when you come banging at my door in the dead of night?”

  “Even before that.” He looked around the room and nodded grimly when he saw she had strategically moved the armoire. “Everyday, you look less like yourself.”

  She drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly wasn’t much. “My apologies if my appearance distresses you, my lord.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  Not too worried to stop dancing attendance on the women who came to tea and hoped to stay as his wife. There had been a veritable parade of eligible girls in and out of the solar each day since the night of the ball.

  Jacquelyn could discern no favorite among them yet. Gabriel was equally polite and charming to them all, even the unfortunate Lady Harlowe, but he did take Elisheba Thatcher riding when she asked to see more of the estate.

  Grasping little witch, Jacquelyn almost blurted out before she caught herself. She shoved the unworthy thought aside.

  “I trust my service to this estate by day has been sufficient,” she said icily. “My nocturnal habits are none of your affair.”

  “I suspect they are precisely my affair. Our affair.”

  He leaned on one of the stout posts at the end of her bed and looked askance at her.

  She couldn’t deny it. Her involvement with this pirate had robbed her of all peace. At least he didn’t try to force himself on her. But she feared he wouldn’t have to. At the rumbling sound of his voice, something dark flared to life in her belly.

  “Why are you . . . what brings you to . . .” She stopped. There was no way to ask a question to which she already knew the answer.

  He was here for her.

  She swallowed hard. Blood roared in her ears. He wasn’t married yet, not even betrothed. If she bedded him again, no one would suffer betrayal. It wasn’t as if she were his light-o-love. In fact, no words of promise had passed between them, but just looking at him, her body grew tender and achy in all her secret places.

  Didn’t she deserve some happiness, even if it was only temporary? Men did it all the time, separating the needs of their body from other demands on them without a second thought. Why couldn’t a woman take pleasure where she pleased? Who would be hurt if she took her ease with this completely willing man?

  She would, she realized.

  When it ended—and it must end, there was no question about that, for once Gabriel married, Jacquelyn would not defraud the future mistress of Dragon Caern in her own home—she would be the one bereft.

  “My lord—”

  “Gabriel,” he corrected softly as he moved to shorten the distance between them.

  “Gabriel.” His name passed her lips fervent as a whispered prayer.

  He advanced on her steadily, but she seemed to have misplaced the will to move. When his hands found her waist and tugged her close, she went without protest. Was there anything finer than the broad hard planes of his body and his even harder cock pressed tight against her?

  Self-respect, a small voice said in the back of her mind. It was hard to hear over the throb in her groin. She felt herself softening, melting like a spring snow. Couldn’t she just bed him and not let her heart get in the way?

  When he bent to take her lips, she turned her head. It gave her physical pain to do so.

  “Please,” she whispered, forcing the word out. “I . . . I can’t.”

  “You’re angry with me over the way I’ve let Meri discipline and train my nieces,” he guessed.

  “No, it’s not that.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t lessen his grip. “You were right. They did need a firmer hand. The girls are much better behaved and happier since Mr. Meriwether put them to useful occupation for part of the day.”

  “Then what is it?” He looked down at her with something like hurt in his dark eyes. “You don’t want me?”

  “Lord, no, that’s not it.” She sagged against him, every ounce of her body screaming at her. “Believe me when I tell you I do want you.”

  It wouldn’t take much for her to throw herself on the bed, spread her thighs and beg him to take her. In fact, if she let herself remember any more of the way his mouth claimed her sensitive flesh, she’d be pulling him down with her.

  Instead, she pushed against his shoulders and thank heaven, he released her.

  “I just . . . can’t,” she said.

  Please God, may he not demand any more. She could give no more explanation and she didn’t think she could stand up to a determined seduction.

  He turned from her and stood still. Mastering himself, she realized. The thought of his need sent a fresh answering ache pounding through her secret folds. When he faced her again, she read resignation on his features.

  “Well, then,” he said. “I doubt sleep will come for either of us soon.”

  She nodded her head in agreement.

  “Then we need action,” he said as he crossed to the armoire and shoved it away from the secret passage. The huge piece grated over the floor.

  “No, no, someone will hear you,” she said.

  “And they’ll think Mistress Wren is rearranging her furniture when she ought to be sleeping.” His grin was contagious. “But in fact, you’ll be exploring the keep with me. We went up last time. This time, I propose we take the passages
down. Are you game, Lyn?”

  He pried open the hidden doorway.

  She looked back at the rumpled linens in her bed. If she lay down, she’d only be bunching them further. Besides, he looked so hopeful, she didn’t have the heart to tell him no again. “I suppose you’re right. Very well. I’ll come.”

  Maybe a vigorous tramp up and down the keep through the serpentine passages would settle the twitch between her legs. She picked up her candlestick and followed him through the hole in the wall.

  Chapter 20

  Light from her candle danced along the uneven outer walls. As she and Gabriel descended, the passageway widened so that in some places, they were able to walk side by side.

  “That opening leads to the library,” Gabriel said when they passed one of the secret doors. He raised his candle to show her the faint outline in the wall. “Rupert and I managed to escape our tutor more than once this way.”

  “Do you know where all the doorways lead?”

  “No, not even when I was a child,” he said. “There are so many doors, Rupert and I didn’t have time to find them all. Besides, it’s not as if we could explore them openly. Once we knew of their existence, we searched each room for signs of an opening—a scuff on the floor here, a nick on the wainscoting there—but we had to be cautious. If anyone else found out about them, the game would have been up. It was a great secret between my brother and me.”

  She heard both the smile and the sorrow in his voice.

  “You must have been good friends as well as brothers,” she said, wondering for the first time what her life would have been like if she’d had a sibling. Of course, she’d never wish Isabella on anyone else. ‘La Belle Wren’ wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s mother.

  Passing the library meant they’d reached a less inhabited part of the Caern. They’d traveled far enough downward, she doubted any of the chambers they passed were occupied. It was safe to speak normally.

  “It must have been nice, having a brother.”

  “It was. Sometimes, we fought like tigers, but most of the time Rupert was a fine partner in crime,” Gabriel said. “He was the elder, of course, but I usually ended up leading whenever there was skullduggery afoot.”