The Pirate Lord

by Sabrina Jeffries

  But that was Silas, all bark and no bite. So the least she could do for him was set his house to rights. “Well, let’s go to it, Ann,” she said as she rolled up her sleeves. “We’ve got quite a bit of work to do before the men return.”

  With a nod, Ann stepped toward the crude table and swept some biscuit crumbs into her apron. “I wonder if Petey’s made it to Sao Nicolau yet. It’s been three days this mornin’ since they left. They ought to be there by now, don’t you think?”

  Louisa cast the Welshwoman a sidelong glance, but all she saw in Ann’s face was a wistful regret, which was better than the horribly sad expression the woman had worn for the first two days of Petey’s absence. “Most likely the men have been there and gone. They’ll be sailing into Atlantis in a day or two.”

  “But not Petey.”

  “No,” Louisa said in a soothing voice, “not Petey.” It still surprised her that Petey had been so willing to abandon them. She’d always thought herself a good judge of character, and he hadn’t seemed the type to run off.

  “Now that Petey’s gone,” Ann said, “who do you think Miss Willis will choose for her husband?”

  “I don’t know. Sara dislikes all the pirates enormously.”

  “Not all of ’em. She’s fond of the captain. I expect he’d be the only one she’d consider choosin’.”

  Louisa had bent to sweep some rotting banana peels into a dustpan, but now she straightened and stared at Ann. “Captain Horn? And Sara? Have you gone mad? Sara despises the captain.”

  Ann shook her head. “I don’t think so, Louisa. She fights with him, but I think she pines for him, too. And it’s clear as day he’s got his eye on her.”

  With a snort, Louisa swept more refuse into the dustpan. “Oh, of course. That’s why he called for Queenie that night we arrived—”

  “But he didn’t do nothin’ with her. I heard her tell one of the other girls all about it. He sent her to Mr. Kent instead. And I’ll wager it was on account of Miss Willis.”

  Louisa stopped short on her way to Silas’s bed to pull off the dirty linens. Sara? And Captain Horn? What a dreadful thought! It could never work, those two together. If Sara believed she could handle that pirate captain, she was much mistaken. He was the sort of man to break a woman’s heart, especially one that hadn’t been toughened like Louisa’s. “If you’re right, they’ve certainly been discreet about it. He seems to avoid her, and she does the same.”

  “Aye, but they watch each other when they think the other’s not lookin’. One day she was laughin’ at somethin’ Mr. Kent said, and Captain Horn scowled so fiercely at ’em both I thought for sure they’d go up in flames. Right after that was when he put Mr. Kent to helpin’ the men bring lumber from the far side of the island. He’s got an eye for her, and I think she’s got one for him, too.”

  “Oh, I hope you’re wrong. He’s not the right man for her.”

  “I dunno.” Ann bent to pick up a pewter cup lying under the table. “He’s not so bad as you might think. He was right nice to me when we talked once. Asked me about Ma and all. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

  “Getting to know him is precisely what I intend to avoid,” Louisa muttered as she snatched the sheets off the bedroll that lay in the midst of a spartan wooden frame. Captain Horn terrified the wits out of her. He was too much like Harry, her former employer’s son, for her tastes. Although she’d never seen Captain Horn hurt anyone, she couldn’t help believe his bite would be far worse than his bark, which was fierce enough. In any case, she had no desire to find out for certain.

  Nor could she bear to think of sweet Sara in that hard man’s arms. She didn’t care what Ann said, the thought was just dreadful. The next chance she had to be alone with Sara, she’d talk some sense into the woman.

  Suddenly, Ann let out a low whistle from across the room. “Dear me, what’s this?” Setting aside the pewter cup she still held in her hand, she picked up a large carved wooden object half-hidden behind a balled-up pair of rank-smelling woolens.

  Louisa glanced at what Ann was holding and shrugged. “It looks like a carving of a woman.”

  “Yes, but with such big—I mean, have you ever seen a woman with…with…”

  “Bosoms,” she said dryly. “You can say the word, you know.”

  Taking the carving from Ann, she turned it in her hands. The woman did indeed have disproportionate breasts for her body. They were large as pumpkins. They matched a set of buttocks that were truly spectacular in size, but then, a woman would need those buttocks to keep the weight of those breasts from making her keel over. Louisa examined the small head and feet, recognizing the style from things she’d seen in books. “I suspect this comes from one of those African places where they worship fertility goddesses.”

  Ann looked puzzled. “Fertility goddesses?”

  “I read about them in a travel journal a long time ago.” Back when I spent my evenings reading, when I had a life ahead of me. Back before Harry started fondling my “bosoms”…

  “But what’s a fertility goddess?” Ann persisted, jerking Louisa from her unpleasant thoughts. “And why are her…bosoms so big?”

  “Because she represents the fertility of women.” When Ann looked blank, Louisa added, “Women feed children from their breasts, so the craftsman made them big to show women’s nurturing qualities.”

  Clearly Ann was completely unfamiliar with the concept of symbolism. The young woman took the carving back from Louisa. “Do you think Silas worships it?”

  “I doubt it,” she said dryly. “Judging from what Barnaby told us, Silas can’t…er…father children. No, I suspect his interest in it is more prurient.”

  “Aye, and probably nasty, too.”

  “Yes, probably so,” Louisa said, biting back a smile.

  Ann was now scrutinizing the carving. “’Tis a funny-shaped thing, if you ask me. All teats and buttocks and nothing else. I wonder, do the women in Africa look like this?”

  “I doubt it. If they did, we’d already have seen a mass exodus of the English male populace to Africa.”

  Ann giggled. “Aye, but they’d be disappointed. A woman like that couldn’t even lie down, could she? Her breasts are so big, they’d hang off the sides of her, and she’d have to balance atop that enormous rear end. She’d never get any sleep and that would keep her husband awake at night.”

  “I don’t think her lack of sleep would be what kept her husband awake at night,” Louisa mumbled.

  Ann looked at her with a complete lack of compre hension, and this time Louisa couldn’t contain her smile. Really, sometimes Ann was like a child. Despite everything she’d gone through, she still looked at the world with fresh eyes. Louisa had never been that innocent. She’d never been allowed to be.

  “You know, Silas shouldn’t have something indecent like this laying about,” Ann said. “One of the children might see it.” She brightened. “I know! We should put clothes on it! That would make it all right, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, by all means. Do clothe the woman,” Louisa said, laughter bubbling up from the back of her throat.

  Ann flitted about the room looking for something appropriate. “Ah, this’ll be fine,” she said, her back to Louisa. She fooled with the thing a bit, then turned and held it up for Louisa’s approval.

  It took Louisa a second to recognize what Ann had chosen to clothe the poor beleaguered fertility goddess in, but as soon as she did, she burst into laughter.

  Silas’s drawers. Ann had clothed the carving in Silas’s dirty drawers.

  After that, Louisa couldn’t stop laughing. Ann had tied the legs around the carving’s neck so that the back side of the unlaced drawers covered her front. It was truly a sight to behold. And when Ann looked at her in all innocence, obviously unaware that the lady’s clothing was as indecent as the lady herself, Louisa laughed so hard her sides hurt.

  “Louisa, are you all right?” Ann asked as she went to her friend’s side. “I swear, you’re b
ehavin’ strange today. Really strange.”

  Louisa couldn’t even speak. All she could do was laugh and point at the carving.

  “This?” Ann asked as she held the carving up. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like her fine woolen dress?”

  Louisa erupted in more peals of laughter. Unfortunately, it was just at that moment, when Louisa was laughing herself to death and Ann was waving the carving about in the air, that Silas chose to make his untimely entrance.

  “What are you females doing in here?” his raspy male voice roared from the doorway, making them both jump.

  Ann dropped the carving at once, watching with horrified eyes as it rolled across the wooden floor, losing its exotic gown in the process. Louisa managed to rein in her laughter, though a few chuckles still bubbled out of her.

  “We wasn’t doing nothin’, truly,” Ann began to babble. “Louisa said…I mean…we thought…”

  “It’s all right, Ann.” Louisa faced Silas, laughter still in her eyes. But when she saw his livid expression and reddened face, she sobered at once. “I’m sure Silas knows better than to blame you.”

  “We was just tryin’ to help.” Bending to pick up the carving, Ann held it out to Silas. “Honestly, Mr. Drumm—”

  Silas made a choking sound as he saw what Ann held in her hands. “Get out.” Snatching the carving from her, he tossed it across the room. “I said get out of here! Now!”

  Ann hurried to the door, and Louisa followed quickly behind, but just as she approached Silas, he grabbed her arm. “Not you, Louisa…just her. I got a word or two to say to you.”

  Her heart sank, and for the first time since she’d met Silas, Louisa felt fear. This wasn’t the man who’d given her salve for her burn. This was a different Silas. She’d never seen him look quite so furious. His eyebrows were drawn into a tight frown, and even his beard seemed to bristle up. She must have been daft to think he would overlook her coming into his hut while he was away. Daft indeed.

  Well, it didn’t matter. She’d dealt with plenty of angry men before, and the best way to fend them off was not to let them take advantage of you. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

  Wrenching her arm from Silas’s grasp, she faced him, her posture stiff. “It’ll do you no good to scold me, Silas. I didn’t do anything wrong. Someone had to clean up this…this pigsty you call a house, and since you obviously weren’t going to ask anyone—”

  “You aimed to do it behind my back.”

  There was a wealth of resentment in his tone that suddenly made her realize how he might see this. “Not exactly. I just…I thought you would appreciate it more once it was done.”

  “Oh, you did, did you? You thought I’d appreciate havin’ my things tossed about and made fun of?”

  She colored. “That wasn’t what it seemed. We were just—” She broke off when she realized she couldn’t possibly explain that to his satisfaction. “We weren’t trying to cause trouble. We just wanted to help…to…to pay you back for being so kind to us.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “To us?”

  Her blush deepened. “To me.”

  That seemed to give him pause. He stared at her a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he turned away and headed across the room. Taking his pipe off a shelf, he filled it with tobacco, then lit it and took a couple of puffs before cradling it in his right hand. The pungent smell of tobacco smoke filled the room. When he faced her, his anger seemed to have faded.

  Instead, he watched her with eyes half-hooded by his bushy eyebrows. “You’re a meddling woman, Louisa Yarrow, do you know that? A meddling woman if ever I saw one.” He paused to draw hard on his pipe, his brown eyes watching her the whole time. “What puzzles me is why you meddle in my life when there’s plenty of other men on this island for you to pester. That’s all I want to know.”

  “I didn’t think of it as pestering you.”

  He ignored her caustic comment. “Why me, Louisa? Why am I the only one?”

  She grew uncomfortable under his intent stare. Turning away from him, she began to snatch up his soiled clothing. “You’re the cook, that’s all, and I wanted to make sure we got some decent food for a change. You must admit you’re not the best cook, Silas.”

  He didn’t protest the insult hotly, as he usually did with everyone else. To her shock, he said, “Aye, ’tis true. I served Gideon well as a sailor before I lost me leg, and that’s why Gideon puts up with me cookin’.”

  She hadn’t known that. It made her revise her opinion of Captain Horn a little.

  “But that don’t answer my question,” Silas continued. “You don’t know much more about cookin’ than I do. I heard you were a governess back in England, not a cook.”

  “I was. But in the years I worked for the Duke of Dorchester, I…became interested in cooking. I used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen.” Yes, quite a bit of time. It had been the one place Harry could never catch her alone, the one place she was safe from his groping hands. That she’d learned a bit about meal preparation had just been a side benefit.

  “I still say you ain’t tellin’ me everythin’. I’ve scolded you and grumbled at you, and it don’t seem to bother you. Why ain’t you scared of me the way the others are?”

  “Because I know you won’t hurt me!” she blurted out, then wished she hadn’t. Why must he ask all these uncomfortable questions?

  “Ah. I thought that might have somethin’ to do with it.” When Louisa looked at him in surprise, he added, “Who was it who hurt you? What man hurt you so bad inside that you only feel safe with a man you think can’t bed you?”

  Her face turned crimson. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He set his pipe down with a scowl. “Aye, you do. I been thinkin’ on it. The only reason a woman like you would turn away Barnaby for me is if she didn’t want a man to touch her.”

  She’d never said it to herself. She’d never even thought it. But deep inside, she knew that was indeed why she’d latched onto Silas. He was good and kind…and impotent. She’d never have to fear that he’d come up behind her and force himself upon—

  She bit her lip hard, trying to contain the raw feelings that always brought her close to tears.

  He came toward her, his face intent. “I ain’t blind, Louisa. I’ve seen how you flinch when a man touches you. I’ve seen how terror leaps up in your eye before you fight it back and sharpen your tongue to make ’em keep their distance.” He stopped a few feet from her. “You think if you make yourself useful to me, I’ll marry you, even though supposedly I can’t bed you.”

  “That’s not true,” she protested feebly before the word “supposedly” sank in. “What do you mean, ‘supposedly’?” Then, realizing how awful a question that was, she stammered, “That is…well…”

  “Don’t trouble yourself over it. I know what that fool Barnaby probably told you. Said I couldn’t make love to a woman, didn’t he?”

  She debated whether to admit it, but finally decided she owed him that much honesty. “Yes.”

  “He told you I didn’t like women ‘cause I couldn’t bed’ em. That’s what he said, ain’t it?”

  Averting her face from him, she nodded.

  “Well, it ain’t true.”

  Her gaze shot around to meet his. “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “I mean, my parts are in as good a working order as that damned Englishman’s.”

  “But why—”

  “It’s a long story.” His lips thinned into a tight line beneath his mustache. When she looked at him expectantly, he sighed and rubbed his beard. “At the time I lost me leg, I had a common-law wife on one o’ the islands in the West Indies. A Creole, she was. Gideon brought me home to her for healin’, and she took care o’ me. But me lack of a leg bothered her. She tried not to let me see how much, but one day I found her rollin’ about in the bed with a merchant. ’Twas then I knew she’d never love me again…if she ever had.”

  When he turned away and went to the table, d
ropping heavily into a chair and picking up his pipe again, Louisa wanted to follow after him and give him comfort. Poor Silas. It wasn’t right; he was a good man. How could any woman stop loving her husband for something so trivial, so unimportant?

  “We parted ways then,” he went on. “She went to her merchant, and I went back to sea as the Satyr’s cook. But the men all thought the problem between us must’ve been in the bedroom. They thought I’d injured somethin’ else when I injured me leg.” He stared down at his pipe. “I…sorta led ’em to think it. It bothered me less to have ’em thinkin’ my wife left me because I couldn’t give her what any woman has a right to than to admit she just didn’t…like me. The men…they thought it was tragic and all, and I let ’em think it. Gideon knew the truth, but nobody else. And he always kept my secret.”

  He drew hard on his pipe, then exhaled, the smoke swirling up about him like incense. “Truth be told, after that I weren’t interested in women anyway. She’d trampled on my heart, and I didn’t think to find nobody else to care for me again. So I…went without a woman, ’cept when I could get away in secret to find a whore in some port.”

  With a sinking feeling she wiped her clammy hands on her skirt. She knew where this was leading. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

  He lifted his face to hers, his eyes as clear as the sky outside. “Then you came along, a spitfire like I never seen. You were the tonic a man takes to brace himself for livin’. And I knew I had to tell you the truth.”

  “Don’t say any more. Please, Silas—”

  “I got to say it, Louisa. I just got to. You cozied up to me because you thought I weren’t a real man, because some bastard made you afraid o’ real men. I’d like to flatter meself that there was more to it than that—”

  “There was!” She couldn’t let him think that she just chose to be around him because she thought he was safe. When he stared at her over his pipe, disbelief in his expression, she added softly, “Truly, there was more. You’re kind and gentle and—”