How To Please a Pirate

by Mia Marlowe

  “You weren’t joking when you said the pirate was always there inside you, waiting to come out,” she said with a laugh.

  He stopped and put a hand on her shoulder to make her turn to look at him.

  “The pirate is still here, Lyn.” His dark eyes were hooded. “You’ve dressed me as a lord and presented me to the world as a gentleman. I’ll play the part, since you seem to want it, but beneath the velvet frockcoat and Brussels lace, you of all people know what I really am.”

  Her mouth went dry. She knew him all right. Deeply. Intimately. The man was an admitted scoundrel.

  And still she wanted him. His body called to hers in the hot, silent language of lovers. It was all she could do not to answer.

  She had to turn the conversation to safer ground.

  “I can well believe you led your brother into trouble, then.” She stepped away from him and continued down the corridor.

  “Aye, though Rupert usually managed to squeak through our adventures without taint, while I got caught.”

  “You sound like Daisy,” she said with a grin. “That child’s main complaint is that she gets blamed for everything she does.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “No wonder she’s my favorite.”

  He stopped and put a shoulder to a spot in the wall where a faint indentation made a hidden opening likely. He shoved with a grunt. The secret door grated against the stone floor and stopped after only giving a quarter inch.

  “There are some doors we couldn’t open at all, even when I was a boy,” he said. “You’re not the first to shove a heavy piece of furniture across the threshold, you know. But some of it is that the castle is so deucedly old and determined to keep its secrets. The Caern has settled and the doorways don’t line up plumb any longer.”

  The air grew colder as they continued to descend. Moisture condensed on the walls.

  “How far down do you think we are?” Jacquelyn asked. Even though she spoke softly, her voice seemed to echo from the dark ahead of them.

  “Don’t know. Rupert got cold feet some turns back and wouldn’t ever come this far down with me. None of this looks familiar.”

  “That’s small comfort.”

  “Come now, where’s your sense of adventure?” He spied a pitch-daubed torch wedged into the wall and held his candle to it. The flame sputtered then flared, lighting much further down the passageway. A whole string of torches lined the corridor, waiting to be lit. Gabriel strode to the next one and fired it. The reek of burning tar tainted the damp, musty air. It may have been in the distant past, but this corridor had once seen heavy use. The rock face around the torch was grimy with soot.

  “I think we should turn back,” Jacquelyn said.

  “Don’t tell me the intrepid Mistress Wren is afraid. If I can pilot a ship to the Caribbean and back, I think I ought to be able to find your chamber again.” Then he turned back to face her and waggled his brows. “Unless you have something in mind that would lure me to return to your bed sooner?”

  A warm bed sounded like heaven, but she wasn’t up to facing one with him in it. Not without losing her resolve. A cold tramp through a dark tunnel would be better for controlling the flutter in her loins.

  “Lead on, my lord,” she said as she blew out her candle and shoved her hands into her sleeves to warm them.

  “Gabriel,” he corrected. “We can’t have an explore together if you insist on calling me by title. Here, let me warm your hands. They’re cold as ice.”

  He gathered them between his and lowered his lips to blow his warm breath on them. Her fingertips tingled and a shiver that had nothing to do with being cold raced up her arm.

  “Better?”

  “Yes, much.” She tugged her hands away, not trusting herself to let him touch her so.

  “Your lips are blue,” he said with a frown. He shrugged out of his shirt and draped it over her shoulders. “Here, put this on.”

  “But then you’ll be cold.”

  “I’ll make do,” he assured her.

  “But this is most unseemly.”

  “Gallivanting about the castle at midnight is unseemly enough. My being shirtless won’t make matters worse. I only want to warm you. It’s not often I play the gentleman in earnest, Lyn,” he said. “Perhaps you’d better let me.”

  With her teeth threatening to chatter, she couldn’t bring herself to protest too much. The unbleached lawn fabric still retained his body heat.

  And his undeniably male scent.

  And now she was treated to the sight of his muscular chest and bare arms. His brown nipples puckered, but his skin remained unmarred by gooseflesh.

  “Here let me help you,” he offered. He reached over and fastened the buttons that ran down her chest. He fingered the one that nestled in the hollow between her breasts. “This may be the only time I offer to help dress you when undressing is my clear preference.”

  Her nipples tingled at the nearness of his fingers, but he kept his promise to behave as a gentleman ought. Once the last button was done up, he caught up her hand and held it tightly.

  “Don’t want to get separated down here,” he explained as he led her on. “Suppose the torches went out.”

  “Do you think it likely?”

  “No, but it’s the best excuse I can think of to keep holding your hand.”

  His warm hand was a comfort and his boyish admission struck her as innocent enough. She nodded and his eyes lit with triumph.

  “Onward then, me hearty,” he said in a rough imitation of Mr. Meriwether. “There be treasure waiting for them what is not afeard to chance the journey.”

  When he screwed his face into an approximation of Meri’s evil-eyed squint, she laughed. “Treasure, my lord? Then by all means, let’s push on.”

  They crept down the curving passageway, fingers entwined. Jacquelyn was mindful of her footing when the floor became uneven. Gabriel stopped long enough to light each torch. Finally they came to a set of winding steps that led downward into the dark. Gabriel pulled the last torch from its sconce and swiped it through the air. A pit yawned before them with no discernable bottom and only a curving flight of narrow stairs with no railings edging the open space.

  “Do you smell that?” Gabriel asked.

  The torch’s flame wavered for an instant and the air freshened with a sharp salt tang.

  “The sea?” Jacquelyn asked. The castle perched on a rocky point, but the surf was a dizzying fall below it. Had they really traveled so far beneath the weathered stone of the Caern?

  “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he ordered. “Keep to the right.”

  She pressed a palm to his shoulder blade, marveling at the warmth of his smooth, bare skin. With Gabriel’s torch leading the way, they descended carefully. Moisture pooled in the slight indentations on the stone steps, mute testimony to thousands of pairs of feet wearing against the rock in the dim past. A low rumble, like an advancing thunderstorm, rose at regular intervals.

  “What’s that?” Jacquelyn asked.

  “Sounds like the tide coming in,” he said as they neared the bottom step. The pathway narrowed, forcing them to go single file. It led sharply to the right. Gabriel ducked to enter the new corridor.

  The smell of the sea was stronger now. When Jacquelyn’s fingertips brushed the walls, she found them cold and slick.

  Gabriel straightened to his full height ahead of her and light from his torch shot skyward into a large vault. Jacquelyn peered around him.

  At one side of the stone chamber, the sea boiled in through low opening, eddying in a heaving pool. But on the landward side, every place she looked was piled high with crates and chests. One of them had been turned on its side and its contents dumped like refuse. A sparkle of gold caught the light of Gabriel’s torch. A dragon’s hoard of coins spilled onto the wet stone, glistening like fallen stars.

  “When you said treasure awaits you weren’t joking,” Jacquelyn whispered in awe. “You knew this was here?”

  “I had no idea.”
>
  “What is this place?” Her voice returned to her several times in receding sibilance.

  “A smuggler’s hole.” Gabriel lit another torch wedged into the rock face and the room brightened. “When the tide is out, a crew brings its cargo in through the sea cave. When the tide surges back, the door is closed.”

  “Did you know there was sea cave near Dragon Caern?”

  “No, and I’ve sailed past the castle dozens of times,” he said. “The entrance must be curved behind the rocks in such a way as to make it invisible unless you know where it is.”

  “Do you suppose someone is still using this as his storehouse?”

  Gabriel knelt and swiped a hand across the top of one of the chests. He held up his finger to show her the thick layer of grime. “No one has been here in ages.”

  When he pried the chest open, more gold greeted Jacquelyn’s dazzled eyes. Gabriel held a coin aloft, inspecting the inscription.

  “Spanish,” he said. “And old beyond reckoning. I’ve never seen this mintage before, and I’ve seen my share of doubloons. Lord knows there are still plenty of them swirling around the Caribbean.”

  Gabriel opened another chest and found gold ingots wrapped in decaying velvet. Jacquelyn picked up a long crowbar and jimmied open another crate. There was no treasure in this one, but she found a cache of ancient weapons, a rusted arquebus and a pouch of rounds, several cross-bows and a melon shaped helmet. She lifted the helmet, the bronze green with age.

  “That belonged to a conquistador,” Gabriel said.

  “But what’s it doing here?”

  “Waiting to be found,” he said softly. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  “It means I’m not the first pirate in the Drake family tree.” One corner of his mouth jinked up and his dark eyes glittered with pleasure. “Uncle Eustace used to tell us boys that our great-great—oh, I don’t know how many times—great grandfather was a privateer for Queen Elizabeth.”

  “Do you mean Sir Francis Drake?”

  “No, though I think he was some sort of distant relation several times removed. This is Phineas Drake I’m speaking of, the lone black sheep amongst the spotless Drake herd. Or perhaps lone wolf is more apt, but my father always denied the tales. If there was treasure in Dragon Caern, he never saw it.”

  “How could something like this be forgotten?”

  “You’d be surprised how much treasure is hidden in the world and none living knows of its existence.” He flipped a coin up to watch it sparkle in the torchlight. “A pirate crew will bury a cache of goods and next thing you know a squall comes up and the ship goes down with all hands, taking the secret of the treasure with them.”

  “But this treasure was right under our feet,” she said, remembering the times she pinched and scraped to make sure the estate would have enough to make it through a thin season when the wealth of Midas rested here unspent. “How could it be lost?”

  “Dragon Caern keeps its own secrets. Take the passageways, for example. As far as I know, no one was aware of the passageways till Rupert and I rediscovered them.” He pocketed one of the shining coins. “All it takes is for one father to fail to pass the information to his son and the treasure passes from living memory.”

  “You mean there’s no written record of all this?”

  “None that I’m aware of. Just rumor and conjecture. That’s why the tale appealed so strongly to Eustace and why Father didn’t want it spoken of. Piracy and ill-gotten gains were entirely too disreputable for the likes of Rhys Drake.” His smile faded. “A treasure like this is dangerous for all who know of it. No one would commit such a thing to parchment when he could just bring his son down those steps at the opportune time.”

  “Still it seems too important to leave to chance.” Jacquelyn tugged his shirt tighter around her. The warmth from his body was gone, but his scent still clung to the fabric in a way that set her senses tingling.

  “We all think we’re going to live forever,” Gabriel said. “But one of my ancestors didn’t live long enough to pass on the treasure’s whereabouts and it sank into the realm of myth.”

  “Well, we know about it now,” Jacquelyn said with a shiver.

  “And so must someone else,” Gabriel said. “Someone with the King’s ear must suspect its existence. I’ve been puzzling over why you were sent the message that I needed to be waylaid before I could make it home. I think we may have discovered the reason someone wants to make sure there are no more Drakes.”

  “So it’s not about tenants and land. This is why the Crown is in such a hurry to see the Drake barony extinct,” she finished his thought for him. Her shoulders slumped. “And why it is so imperative that you marry. Soon.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, his mouth set in a determined grimace. She knew her duty, and by heaven, she’d see him wed as soon as possible. But the way his bare skin glowed in the torchlight, all Jacquelyn could think was how glorious it would be to have this man in her bed.

  And if she could only have him for a little while, did it make sense to waste one moment of it?

  Chapter 21

  “You look chilled. We’d best find your bed.” His eyes gleamed as he looked at her.

  Did everything she thought show so plainly on her face? If so, the sooner she was out of his sight altogether the better for both of them. She might want to bed him, but all the reasons not to have him still held good.

  “Aye, a warm bed sounds lovely right now.” Jacquelyn rubbed her arms against the chill, purposely trying to misunderstand him. Better to let him think she pined for her coverlet than for his hot body between her bed linens. Besides, she was certain her nose must be blue and she hadn’t been able to feel her feet since they started down the curving steps.

  “Still cold?”

  She nodded. He closed the distance between them as if she’d issued an invitation.

  “I can help with that,” he said folding her into his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest.

  His bare skin was warm, almost feverish. She pushed her palms against him both to draw out his heat and to separate from him by a finger-width. She didn’t think she could bear the hard length of his body against hers for long.

  He shivered involuntarily. “Your fingers are like icicles.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to draw back further, but he held her firm.

  “No need. You’ll warm up soon enough.” He cupped her hands in his again and brought them to his lips to send his warm breath over them.

  A tingle of desire washed over her.

  “You’re more chilled than I thought,” he said. “This may call for drastic measures. Come. We need to get you back into your bed.”

  She nodded and let him lead her away from the treasure and back up the winding stairs.

  “No doubt the fire in my chamber is out by now,” she said softly. “My bed will be cold as a tomb.”

  “There’s a remedy for that.”

  “Not one we should avail ourselves of.”

  “You disappoint me, Mistress,” he said as he swiped away a draping cobweb. “You are determined to think the worst of me. My sole aim is your comfort. I didn’t ask anything improper of you. I merely said I could mend the problem of a cold bed. Any untoward ideas in this exchange are coming from you, not me.”

  She swallowed her surprise. Did he not want her after all?

  “So this is the thanks I get after I handed over my shirt and refrained from any ungentlemanly advances this night,” he said as he slogged up the steps. “Keep your hand on my shoulder so we don’t become separated.”

  She tried to reach his shoulder, but between his height and going up the stairs, her palm kept slipping down to the broad expanse of his ribs.

  “I’ll swear your hands are getting colder,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to reach around me and slip them into my pockets.”

  “You only want my hand close to your—” she stopped herself.

 
; “Mistress! The naughty direction of your thoughts amazes me.”

  “Do you deny that you want my hand on your . . . gentlemanly parts?” she said in frustration.

  “No, I’ll not deny it,” he said with a chuckle. “But there’s nothing gentlemanly about them.”

  She sighed in exasperation.

  “Kindly lead me back to my chamber and I’ll deal with a cold bed on my own. This subject is closed.”

  They climbed in silence. Then they came to the long unevenly walled corridor where they’d left torches still burning. Gabriel rubbed each one out as they passed, letting the pathway behind them fall into darkness.

  “The wind off water can be especially bitter. Sea-faring folk have long had methods for dealing with the cold,” he said, not technically ignoring her request to end the discussion, but damnably close. They came to the last torch sconce, retrieved their candles, lit them and continued their upward climb. “Meri told me once of the way the old Vikings used to keep warm on a long sea voyage.”

  “How was that?” she asked, despite herself. They were whispering now in the narrow space and hearing an occasional cough or snore from the far side of the wall.

  “Body heat. At night, the Vikings climbed into two-man sleeping sacks.”

  “Two-man?”

  “Only for warmth,” he explained. “They generally left their womenfolk behind when they went off on raids and the old sea wolves didn’t hold much with buggery.”

  “So is that what pirates do as well?”

  “No, but then the Caribbee is much balmier than the northern seas. Here we are.”

  He pushed open the secret door into her chamber. The return trip took less time than she expected. Strangely bereft that their adventure was at an end, she stepped back into her familiar room. The full moon was framed in her window, washing the chamber in shades of gray. As she foretold, the fire in the grate was dead ash.

  “Thank you for seeing me back,” she said. “Good night.”