Care and Feeding of Pirates

by Jennifer Ashley

  "You said you were a fine navigator," Manda said, her voice strained. "Does that mean you could find your way, by the stars alone, if you were stranded by yourself in a rowboat?"

  Henderson turned his head to her, the lenses of his spectacles made opaque by moonlight. She couldn't see his eyes behind them, which bothered her. "Only if you were stranded with me," he said. "I'd need you to row."

  Why did the idea of being alone in a boat with him suddenly seem appealing? Ridiculous.

  "Why did you rush to my rescue?" she asked. "To a man like you, I should be nothing more than a servant or a slave--or a man's treat. It's all the same to you."

  Henderson looked out to sea again. "Because I am a gentleman."

  "That's what I mean."

  His calm finally broke. "Can you never speak to me without deliberately provoking me?"

  Manda shrugged. "Can't seem to. And you didn't answer me."

  "I told you, I am a gentleman. That bastard Switton had you in a cage. If it had been up to me, he'd have died on the spot for that."

  An odd sensation coiled around Manda's heart. "Why should you care what happens to someone like me?"

  Henderson made a noise of exasperation. "Are English gentlemen not allowed to have compassion? He had no right to take you, to lock you up, to defile you."

  "He never touched me."

  "That's not what I meant. He defiled your dignity. He deserves worse than death for that."

  They stood in a dark corner, between the pools of lantern light. Manda reached up and touched his spectacles. "Take these off."

  "Why?"

  "I want to see your eyes."

  "It's dark."

  "Doesn't matter."

  Henderson heaved a sigh, unhooked the spectacles from his ears, and pulled them off. He immediately shoved the spectacles into a pocket, as though he feared she'd snatch them and drop them overboard.

  The moon was high and shining mightily through the clear sky. His eyes were starlight gray, somewhat like Christopher's, and just as intense.

  As they faced each other, a mere foot of space between them, Manda found that she was nearly as tall as he was. Therefore, she only had to rise a little on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  For a moment Henderson did nothing, his body rigid, his mouth unmoving. Then he put his strong hands on Manda's shoulders and pulled her to him, to kiss her lips with a ferocity that made her fear and anger dissolve like mist before a raging storm.

  *** *** ***

  The galley, which sat forward of the mainmast, half submerged in the deck, was cramped, most of the space taken by a table on which all meals were prepared. A fire roared on the brick hearth on the far wall, with a black pot of soup boiling merrily over the flames. The dark-haired cook sitting before it tossed in the occasional vegetable or chunk of pork fat.

  Honoria stood just inside the door and rubbed her arms. The room was stifling, but the warmth felt good to her cold limbs. Mrs. Colby, who'd taken on the job of cook's assistant, looked up from industriously peeling potatoes. "You should be in bed, love. Dawn comes early at sea."

  "I'm not tired," Honoria said, then realized the lie. Her arms ached from her afternoon holding the wheel, and her eyes felt sandy.

  Mrs. Colby chuckled. "Well now, your husband will be happy to hear you're wide awake."

  Honoria blushed, which made Mrs. Colby laugh again.

  "You're good for him, dear," Mrs. Colby said, returning to her potatoes. "You've taken the edge off him."

  "I have?"

  "My goodness, yes. Captain Raine's always been a hard man, albeit a fair one. He don't brook no disobedience, but he's good to his crew. Then again, he can be ruthless as a stray dog what takes over a pack. Now he's got something new to think about. Something nice."

  Honoria eyed the woman in amazement. If Christopher had had his edges polished off, she wondered what he'd been like with the edges on.

  "He went through hardship in the Orient," Honoria said. "Perhaps that has made him less formidable."

  "Oh, aye. His adventures no doubt shook up his pride. But his toughness got him through those. It's you, dear, that's put that sparkle in his eyes now."

  "The one that makes him look as though he wants to devour me?"

  Mrs. Colby laughed again. "The very one. Let him enjoy himself, dear. He deserves a rest."

  Mrs. Colby went on slicing potatoes. Honoria found herself sitting on one of the stools, arranging the uncut potatoes in order of size.

  "He's had a difficult time of it," Mrs. Colby went on. "Our captain as a boy got to watch his father be shot through the head and his mother walk away willingly with the killers. That made him hard inside, and him so young."

  "Good heavens," Honoria said, shocked. She hadn't heard much about Christopher's personal past, only his pirate exploits. She pictured Christopher as a child, his flinch when the pistol fired, his horror and grief, which he'd have had to tuck away where no one could see it. Her heart ached.

  "He'll be good to you, love," Mrs. Colby said. "But in his own way."

  "Does his own way include driving me insane?"

  Mrs. Colby smiled. "It's the way of love, my dear. When Colby courted me, I wanted nothing more than to slam a tankard between his eyes. He'd swagger in and out of my life without so much as a by-your-leave and expect me to be waiting for him whenever he came back. And then one day, I wasn't waiting."

  Honoria moved a large potato to the end of her row. "What did you do?"

  Mrs. Colby's smile widened. "Oh, he did get that angry with me! He's mostly a gentle man, for all he's so big, but he has a temper. He tried to demand it from me, but I said if he cared so little for my feelings he could pay for the pleasure, same as he would a common woman." She shook with laughter. "He was that shocked. You wouldn't think old Colby was so prim. But he is. So he took me out and married me."

  Mrs. Colby reached for a potato in the middle of Honoria's careful line. "Then he wanted me, if you please, to wait in England for him to return. Not so, I said. Our vows say 'Til death us do part, not 'Til your ship leaves port. So I went with him. He needs a wife, bless him."

  The two seemed to fit, even from what little Honoria had seen of them, the bear-like man and the plump little woman, she all smiles, he growling. Honoria sensed and saw the strong bond between them even when they worked in separate parts of the ship.

  Honoria had always felt a similar bond between herself and Christopher, a tether that wrapped around her even through the years she'd thought him dead. She'd told herself she had let him go in her heart, but the truth was, Honoria never had been able to let him go.

  She knew, for instance, when Christopher entered the galley behind her. Not only Mrs. Colby's abrupt interest in the potatoes told Honoria to whom the quiet footsteps belonged, she sensed a change in the air, a tingling on her skin that meant her husband stood in the doorway behind her.

  Mrs. Colby sent Christopher a smile. "I was keeping her warm for you, Captain."

  "I'm grateful," Christopher rumbled. The harsh light in the cavern-like room made his face look harsher than ever. He held out his hand. "Come along, my wife."

  Mrs. Colby winked. When Honoria remained fixed to her stool, Christopher stepped into the room, took her by both elbows and pulled her up and out of the galley with him.

  *** *** ***

  Christopher knew Honoria wanted to argue. She'd begin by accusing him of returning for her only because she possessed the marriage license with its directions to the Rosa Bonita's Mexican gold.

  Christopher would have to tell her, It was the other way around, sweetheart. He'd come for the marriage license because he knew Honoria would be attached to it.

  He led her into their cabin, cooled by the breeze through the open window, and shut the door. Honoria opened her mouth to begin the argument, so Christopher pressed her back against the door and kissed her.

  He liked the shape of her mouth and the softness of it, the spice of her tongue and the eager way she moved her li
ps against his. She tasted as sweet as she had that faraway day when Christopher had kissed her for the first time.

  Back then, Honoria had belonged in that delicate room in her family's mansion, she all white muslin and perfume. Now her skin was pink with sunburn, her hair tangled by the wind. Her flowerlike girl's face had changed to the face of a woman, with a sharp chin and fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Christopher found Honoria even more beautiful now, though she probably wouldn't believe that.

  She made a soft noise in her throat as he kissed her, and twined her arms about his neck. Honoria had done that way back when as well. She always liked to pull Christopher closer, as though to make sure he didn't leave before the kiss was over.

  No fear of that.

  "Christopher," she whispered.

  He growled softly. "Not now."

  "I just wanted to ask . . ."

  "No." He nipped her lip.

  "You don't even know what I want to say."

  Christopher began the pleasurable task of slipping free the hooks of her bodice. "I have a good idea what it is."

  "I'll wager you do not."

  "No?" He opened another hook. "What will we wager? A kiss?" He stole a brief one. "Too late for that. Your virtue?" He cupped her breast. "Too late for that too."

  A stubborn glint entered her eye. That was his Honoria, always ready for a challenge. "If I win," she said, "you will honor one request from me, without question, no matter what it is."

  "All right," Christopher said recklessly, his blood too hot to care. "And you'll honor one from me if you lose. No questions." He touched her lips. "No talking."

  "Very well."

  Christopher pinned her against the door again. "So what is your question?" Even if he had to endure endless interrogation about the marriage license, he'd just ensured himself a fine reward for her probing.

  Honoria cleared her throat and tried to look as prim as she could with her bodice half open. "May I steer the ship again tomorrow?"

  Christopher tried to hide his start, but couldn't. Damn. "That was what you wanted to ask?"

  "Yes." She smiled, triumphant. "Well?"

  "Little vixen."

  She gave him a pleased look. "I win."

  "Yes, all right. What damn fool thing do you want me to do?" Knowing Honoria, she'd tell him to stand in the stern on one leg and sing Irish sea chanteys or something equally ridiculous.

  "Answer my question first," she said.

  "What question? Oh, taking the wheel. Yes, you will. You'd better. Your watch starts at ten."

  Her brows went up. "My watch?"

  "Young Carew will help you. He trains the new recruits."

  "Have I become one of the crew?"

  "I don't have enough men to give you a free ride. Everyone works, everyone gets a share. That includes you."

  She gave him an apprehensive look. "I see."

  "All will be well. Carew will show you things you can do, even a Southern lady bred to give tea parties."

  Honoria dissolved into laughter. "Upper-class ladies don't give tea parties. That's for the parvenu."

  Christopher shook his head, mocking chagrin. "Damn, I knew I shouldn't have run away from finishing school."

  She laughed again, her lips red and inviting.

  "Tell me what my forfeit is," he said, steeling himself. "Get it over with."

  Honoria fell silent, and her cheeks blossomed pink. Christopher waited for her to command him to climb to the crow's nest and jump off into the sea.

  Instead, Honoria raised on tiptoe and put her lips to his ear. She whispered, he listened.

  Christopher's eyes widened, and his already hard cock jumped.

  Oh, my sweet Honoria. No wonder I love you.

  *****

  Chapter Sixteen

  Honoria felt Christopher's body tighten as she explained. He cupped her shoulders with strong hands, his eyes going almost a colorless gray. "You didn't learn that at finishing school, vixen."

  If Christopher believed that, he had no idea what a dozen fifteen-year-old young ladies could find to talk about in the dark. But she hadn't, actually. "From Alexandra," she said.

  "Let me make sure I understand. My punishment is that you want me to . . ." He whispered one very enticing, and naughty, phrase into her ear.

  Her face flamed. "I did not say that."

  "You did, but you used different words. That is what you want?"

  His steely gaze told her he was not going to let her say no. Honoria did not want to in any case. "I do."

  Christopher laughed and kissed the bridge of her nose. "You know, I should have dragged you away with me when I first met you. My life would have been amazing."

  "You were a pirate."

  He shrugged. "And you were a lady. It's worked before."

  "You still are a pirate," she pointed out.

  "But no lady made that suggestion. Brazen hussy."

  "Passion between husband and wife is perfectly acceptable," Honoria said reasonably.

  "Did Alexandra teach you that too? I'm beginning to truly like Finley's wife."

  "She was quite informative."

  "Someday, I'll make you tell me everything you discussed. Right now, we can get to the business of unfastening your clothes." He continued to slip her bodice's clasps through their hooks.

  "Are you certain the ship is not tossing too much?"

  Christopher pulled open her bodice. "Smooth as glass on a fine summer night."

  He skimmed the gown down her arms, dropping it to pool at her feet, and untied the ribbons of the chemise. She felt her body go slack, then Christopher lifted her closed fist and kissed her fingers. "Does it still hurt?"

  "What?"

  "Your hands were cramped. Are they better?"

  She barely felt them. "Yes. No. I mean, I think so."

  He unfolded her fingers and kissed them one by one, then her palms. His lips were warm and dry. "You're strong. Did you know that?"

  Honoria swallowed. "I'm not, particularly."

  "You'd never have survived me the first time if you hadn't been. Let alone married me. Or taken the helm of my ship when I told you to, without question, without crying."

  "I told you, I rarely cry. Besides, if I'd burst into tears, how could I have seen where to steer?"

  He made a noise like a chuckle and bent to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes, sinking into the dark feeling of his mouth on her. He was bamboozling her again. And, as she'd suspected would happen, she did not care.

  "I love sailing," she said. "My brother Paul and I used to climb all the way forward on James's ship and try to stand on the bow with our arms outstretched. It was like flying."

  "What a damn fool idea. I'm surprised you didn't break your neck."

  "I know. We tore up James's rigging. He nearly killed us for it. Oh."

  Christopher leaned to lick the warm place between her breasts. Her antics of long ago dissolved and floated away.

  He kissed his way down to her abdomen, his mouth like fire, and finally sank to his knees. His breath stirred the curls at the join of her legs. Honoria's feet, of their own accord, moved a little bit apart.

  He kissed her where she ached. Honoria looked down at the top of Christopher's head, where candlelight burnished his hair gold, though she saw a few white hairs mixed in.

  Christopher's tongue flickered. Honoria curled her still-aching hands, impossible heat flowing through her.

  "I want you to love me," he whispered, his breath warming her cleft. "I'll do this until you do."

  "I fell madly in love with you, Christopher." She dragged in a sharp breath as his tongue did its magic again. "Madly. Then you were gone." And it had hurt. The pain had nearly killed her.

  Christopher eased to his feet, to her great disappointment, but he leaned to her. "I'm here now. I came back for you, and I'm not leaving again."

  Tears stung her eyes, despite her assertion that she never cried. Correction--she'd finished with crying until Christopher had sprung
into her life again. "You came back for your stupid treasure map."

  "Damn the treasure map. I don't need it. I remembered the numbers."

  Honoria wiped her eyes. "Why write them on the license, then?"

  "Because I needed some way to tell Manda where I'd left the gold, and I didn't have anything else to hand. I didn't dare record anything in my log, not with your brother breathing down my neck. Ardmore stole the logs anyway. And I couldn't very well write Manda a note that read, By the way, the gold is hidden at latitude X, longitude Y. So I jotted it on the license. No one noticed me do that."

  "What was your purpose?" Her body cried out for her to let him get on with what he'd been doing, but her thoughts whirled and wanted explanation. "Did you marry me so you could have a piece of paper on which to write a note?"

  "No, you troublesome woman. I married you because I wanted to. The license just came in handy."

  "Because you knew you were going to be hanged."

  "Yes, and I knew that when Manda heard of my death and the marriage she'd seek you out. She'd insist on you showing her the license, because she'd never believe I'd married you otherwise. She'd see the numbers and know what they meant. I didn't realize you were going to keep our marriage a deep, dark secret from everyone, even your own brother."

  Honoria tried to push him away. She felt silly standing there naked, glaring at him, but her indignation wouldn't let her stay silent. "You could have told me what you were doing."

  "The sister of James Ardmore? I couldn't risk you running straight to him and announcing you knew where I'd put the Mexican gold. It belongs to Manda, Colby, St. Cyr, and the rest of my crew."

  "It doesn't," she said. "You're thieves."

  He backed her against the door, the wood paneling cold on her bare skin. "We are pirates, Honoria. We take treasure. It's what we do. We aren't the romantic stories in your pamphlets."

  She relaxed, her tears unshed. "I'm more than aware of that."