Care and Feeding of Pirates

by Jennifer Ashley

  Just when Honoria had thought he'd tell her he loved her, Christopher had straightened up, deliberately winked, and said, "Good to meet you, Miss Ardmore," and strolled away.

  Nine years later, Christopher's devil-may-care bearing had all but gone. His swagger had vanished, but Christopher had given Honoria the ghost of his cocky grin when she'd been admitted to the prison cell in the fort. Christopher might have been condemned to death, but his strength had not dimmed.

  As soon as the jailor had left them alone, Christopher had crushed Honoria in his arms and kissed her without even saying hello.

  "Honoria." He'd said, easing away from her. "You are the best sight I could ever hope to see."

  Honoria had touched his face, wondering that they'd come together again, so sad that it would be for the last time. "I love you," she'd whispered.

  They'd consummated their love that time, on the stone floor. Then Honoria married him.

  Once they were man and wife, Christopher had said, "I love you, Honoria. I've always loved you."

  Honoria seemed to hear him say it now, as though he knelt next to her and whispered it into her ear. But Christopher was truly dead this time, buried in the cave under rock and mud. James had saved him from the hangman four years ago, but he'd not been able to save Christopher today.

  Honoria. The call was slightly more insistent and tinged with annoyance.

  Gasping, Honoria woke. Stars had spread out above her, the fire had died to a hot glow, and every man around her was asleep.

  She sat up. Far out to sea, the two ships rocked, lit by moonlight and starlight. The men on the beach slept, wrapped in blankets or sprawled on top of them. Even James was asleep, a blanket around his shoulders, his back against the longboat.

  Quietly Honoria shed her quilt and stood up. Her legs ached, and her head hurt. Not bothering with her boots, she walked barefoot across the sand, which crumbled beneath her toes, soft and soothing.

  Honoria. She heard her name again, as clear as the stars. She walked alone toward the path that led to the pools, moving numbly toward the voice that called to her.

  She came to the large rock at the end of the path and climbed over it without stopping. Honoria pushed through the undergrowth, her feet hurting now, and at long last reached the pool.

  It lay still and clear, moonlight rendering it a silver sheet. Honoria plunged her bruised and cut feet into the soothing water, closing her eyes, letting the coolness ease her.

  "Honoria."

  She snapped her eyes open. Christopher stood on the other side of the pool, moonlight playing on his body, rendering his golden hair almost white. His breeches were nothing but rags, but he walked toward her, through the water, his teasing smile in place.

  "You didn't think it could kill me, did you?" he asked.

  Honoria unfroze. She plunged through the water, heedless of her skirts, running to him, reaching for him. He caught her in the middle of the pool and lifted her into his arms, spinning around with her.

  She kissed his lips, his face, as tears poured down her cheeks. "Christopher," she sobbed. "I love you. I love you so much."

  "I know, sweetheart. I always told you, didn't I?"

  She nuzzled his cheek. "I knew you wouldn't die."

  "I couldn't, could I? With you to come back to?"

  "You love me, don't you?" she asked.

  Christopher's smile deepened. "With all my villainous heart."

  Honoria kissed the dragon tattoo his collarbone. The lines of it were silver, as though it glowed with inner fire. "Stay with me, Christopher. Forever. Please?"

  Christopher went silent. She raised her head, her blood suddenly chilled. He still smiled, but his gray eyes held vast sadness. "I can't, angel."

  "Why not? Why not? I love you."

  He brushed a kiss to her lips. "I know. But can't stay."

  Honoria clutched him, panicked. "No! Please stay with me. Don't leave me again."

  Christopher kissed her again, his strong arms around her. "You go back to sleep. In the morning, let your brother take care of you. He's a bastard, but he'll get you home. You'll be safe once you're home."

  Honoria wrenched herself from him and landed on her feet in the water. "You are my husband. I belong with you. I love you."

  Christopher gave her another sad look, his gray eyes holding the light of the stars. "It doesn't always work that way, my wife. Good night." He chucked her under the chin, then turned and walked away from her.

  Honoria tried to run after him, but her sodden skirts tangled her legs, and she couldn't manage a step. "Christopher!" she shouted.

  Christopher continued to walk until he faded into the shadows under the rocks. He never once looked back.

  Honoria's body jerked, and she awoke. She was lying cocooned in a blanket on the cold sand of the cove, her face wet with tears. The sun was rising, the men stirred, and James was talking quietly with one of his crew.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Honoria kicked aside her blankets and got to her feet, slid on her half boots, and quickly but determinedly made her way toward the path that led to the pools. She heard James, ever vigilant, call her name, but she didn't stop.

  Honoria's heart beat rapidly, not giving her much room for breathing. She was gasping by the time she reached the boulder at the end of the path.

  The sunlight had not yet reached beneath the trees, and the air was cold and filled with mists. Her feet, even in the boots, ached from the stones she trod on.

  Honoria's dream had been vivid, but now she realized how unreal it truly was. She'd not felt the damp coolness of the mists, nor the exertion of the walk, nor had she smelled the decay of the undergrowth or stumbled on the sharp stones. But she'd heard her name so clearly, in Christopher's voice like broken gravel.

  "Honoria!"

  This shout came from behind her. James.

  Honoria scrambled around the boulder and continued to the pool. The rational part of her mind told her she'd not find Christopher waiting for her, that he'd not walk to her wearing his grin and not much else. She'd dreamed it all.

  But Honoria had to see. She had to know, for once and for all.

  She pushed her way along the path. Flat leaves slapped her, spraying cold droplets over her face, and her feet slipped in mud.

  Honoria reached the pool just as the sun rose over the trees and spilled its light into the clearing. The sunlight fell on the cliff face, wet with falling water, dazzling her a moment.

  Shading her eyes, Honoria peered into the pool. On the other side of it, in the cold shadows of the cliffs, a bulk of something floating.

  Honoria charged into the pool just as James, growling, crashed through the undergrowth behind her. Honoria's skirts tangled her legs, as in her dream, but this time she dragged them up and out of the way. She heard James splash into the water, snarling at her to stop.

  She reached the shadows of the overhanging rocks. Christopher floated there, face-up, his eyes closed. His torso was raw with contusions, his breeches bloody shreds.

  Honoria grabbed him under the arms and began dragging him back into the sunlight. Without a word, James hooked his arm around Christopher's waist and helped her pull him across the pool to the bank.

  When they reached it, James hauled Christopher out of the water and dumped him on a space of muddy ground. Christopher's limbs were slack, his face pasty white, the dragon tattoo stark on his skin.

  Honoria touched Christopher's chest, searching for a flutter of pulse. His skin was cold and clammy, and he lay so still. But at last, under her fingers, she felt a faint stirring, a feeble twitch that meant his heart still beat. She started crying. "James, he's alive."

  Without answering, James flipped Christopher onto his stomach and pressed hard on Christopher's ribs. Water gushed from Christopher's mouth, but he made no other response.

  A green snake slithered out of the undergrowth. It stopped and inspected Christopher's waterlogged boot with one jeweled eye.
<
br />   James stood up, face grim, and the snake slid hurriedly away. James pressed his booted foot on Christopher's back, forcing more water out.

  Christopher jerked, and then he coughed. Honoria's heart beat swiftly with hope. Christopher's eyes half opened, then he turned his head and vomited up the rest of the water.

  After a time, James gently turned Christopher onto his back. Honoria gathered his head in her lap and brushed the sodden hair from his face. Christopher's eyelids fluttered again, then finally, he opened his eyes.

  Bloodshot and wild, Christopher's gaze flicked from her to James, who stood over him, tense and watching.

  His voice was a croak, but Honoria made out the words. "Am I in heaven or hell?"

  She leaned down and kissed him. "Be quiet, Christopher." Her tears fell on his lips. "I love you," she informed him. "You wonderful, arrogant, infuriating man."

  *** *** ***

  Christopher enjoyed lying on a blanket in the sand, washed by sunshine, letting Honoria wait on him hand and foot. Every so often, she'd stop what she was doing and kiss his cracked lips.

  Each time she did, Christopher felt his limbs grow stronger.

  He had no idea how he'd ended up in the pool. He must have fallen through a rock-carved tube that snaked rainwater into one of the springs that backed into the mountain. If he'd fallen down the waterfall itself, he would have died. The spring had been deep enough to cushion his fall, and from there, he'd floated, unconscious, down into the pool where Honoria found him.

  She would not explain how she knew to look for him there--she simply smiled and kissed him. Christopher decided to close his eyes and live with it.

  James gave the order to release Manda, so Christopher courteously gave the return order to release Diana. Did Diana and Manda meekly return to their respective ships? No, they came charging to the island, demanding to know everything that had happened.

  Diana had flown into her husband's arms as soon as Ardmore helped her out of the boat, and Ardmore gathered her up for a long hug. Diana had shaken free of him, stepped back, and started shouting.

  Christopher enjoyed the show. That is, until Manda approached Christopher and began shouting at him.

  What business did he have letting Ardmore lead him around by the nose and getting himself half killed? For a stupid little stack of gold they didn't even need?

  "I'm leading him," Christopher retorted. His chest was encased in bandages that Honoria had wound herself--he'd loved the feel of her small, firm hands on his body. "The only person who leads me around is my wife, and that's not by the nose." He grinned as Manda rolled her eyes.

  Manda knelt down next to Christopher, gave him a half-defiant stare with liquid black eyes, and said, "I'm going to marry Henderson."

  Christopher felt both amusement and a dart of sorrow. He'd just found Manda. He didn't want to let her go again, not so soon. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  She nodded, looking happy and miserable at the same time. "I love him." She lifted her chin. "He's a good man in a fight."

  Christopher suppressed a laugh. "You always have a place on my ship, you know that."

  "I know. That's why we'll stay on the Starcross. Alden's a good navigator, even if he is fussy about his clothes. You'll need him."

  Christopher let himself grin. Lying here recovering from death, his emotions were running rampant.

  He reached for Manda and gathered her into his arms. Her black hair was soft under his hands, her cheek smooth against his.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Hugging you."

  She awkwardly rested her arms on his neck. "We don't hug."

  Christopher squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek. "I promise I'll never do it again."

  Manda broke away from him, giving him an incredulous stare, but she did not look unhappy. "You've lost your mind."

  "My beautiful wife saved my life today and told me she loved me. I'm pleased with everyone."

  "Huh. I suppose I should enjoy it while I can."

  Christopher gave her a brotherly pat on the knee. "Go get the ship ready to sail. We're leaving as soon as I can get rid of Ardmore."

  They exchanged a long look, conspirators once more. "Are we going where I think we are?" Manda asked.

  "You'd know better than anyone."

  "I'll have to tell Henderson, you know," she warned.

  "Tell him anything you want. Just wait until we're well away from Ardmore."

  Manda's grin widened, and she winked. "Aye, Captain. See you on board."

  She stood up and walked off, with a long stride and buoyant bounce. Christopher's heart lifted. It was good to be home.

  When next he opened his eyes, Ardmore was staring down at him.

  Christopher sat up carefully, hand on his bandages. "Still here, are you?"

  James's face was granite-hard as usual. "We're leaving. We searched the rest of the island in case you forgot to tell us about more caches of gold, but we found none. It seems you led me directly to the treasure and gave it up to me. Why?" His voice was quiet, smooth, waiting.

  Christopher tried a shrug, flinch in pain. "I refuse to waste men and time trying to fight you. You want the damned gold so much, take it and go away."

  Ardmore's lips compressed. "Are you paying me off so I'll leave you alone from now on? It won't work, Raine. You're still a pirate, and I'm a pirate hunter. Our debts to each other are paid, but we start again, with a blank slate."

  "Fine," Christopher answered, trying to look defeated. "But to tell the truth, I believe I'll retire from the pirate life. I'll take my wife and settle in some coastal town where I can smoke my pipe and bounce my children on my knee and regale them with tales of my exploits. I'll tell them stories about you, and they'll call you Uncle James."

  Ardmore started, as though just realizing that Honoria's children would be his family. Then the corners of his mouth quirked. "Sounds idyllic. I suppose Honoria will have us come around for Sunday dinners."

  He paused while both of them thought about this scenario. Sitting around the table, brother and sister, husbands and wives, the Ardmore children and the Raines' running about making noise. They'd make noise, no doubt about that--a din that would rival that of any pirate gang.

  "Was there something else?" Christopher asked.

  Ardmore's eyes glinted with some hidden thought, as though he debated with himself whether to speak. "No. Except that I believe you and Honoria will live--what is the phrase--happily ever after?"

  "I think we will," Christopher answered.

  The glint in Ardmore's eyes became disquieting. It held a grudging respect, acknowledgement that Christopher had won this round.

  In other words, the bloody man had deduced exactly what Christopher was up to.

  Christopher's heartbeat quickened, but he kept his expression impassive as he waited. Ardmore was choosing, his look said, to let Christopher win. For Honoria's sake, perhaps, or the sake of the children to come, or perhaps because Ardmore believed he was still paying a debt to Christopher for telling him about Mallory.

  Before Christopher could speak, Ardmore gave him a lazy salute. "Until we meet again," he said. "Don't let Honoria drive you insane. She has peculiar notions about what carpets you're allowed to walk on and what pillows you can't use."

  "Thank you for the warning." Christopher had already run into her notions about bedding and pillows. Painfully so, his backside reminded him.

  "I'll say good-bye to her," Ardmore finished. "On my way out."

  "She'll want to talk about her feelings," Christopher warned.

  "I know." Ardmore gave him a curt nod. "Good-bye, Raine."

  Christopher didn't have the strength to get to his feet, but he gave his rival a return salute. "Well met, Ardmore."

  Both men had come here trying to best the other, and neither had been defeated. They'd both won.

  Without another word, Ardmore strode off to face his last ordeal, a conversation with his sister.

 
*** *** ***

  Honoria ground her teeth as her argument with James wound down. They'd shouted at each other for the better part of an hour about all the things they'd shouted about their entire lives--James staying so long from home, Honoria doing whatever she pleased without consulting him. They'd moved on to Honoria marrying Christopher in secret, and James not telling Honoria how he'd found out who'd killed Paul's wife.

  Honoria ran out of breath at the same time James did. He glared at her and closed his mouth in a grim line, and she gave him a haughty stare right back.

  Diana, who'd waited on the edge of the beach while they quarreled said, "Are you finished? For heaven's sake, we'll likely not see Honoria again for a long while. You must do better than scolding her."

  "I told her she could return to Charleston with us, with her husband," James said in his infuriating way. "She declined."

  Honoria raised her brows. "Christopher live with you in the Charleston house? The pair of you would be at each other's throats. Not what I'd call comfortable living."

  "No," Diana agreed.

  James frowned, but she caught a glint of sorrow in his eyes. "Damn it, Honoria, you will come home sometime, won't you?"

  "Well, of course I will. I'll return home quite often. That is, if I am welcome."

  "You'll be welcome," James growled. "Why wouldn't you be?"

  Diana rolled her eyes. She left them, gliding away to where Isabeau was supposed to be keeping baby Paul from eating sand.

  After a moment, Honoria said softly, "Why didn't you ever tell me that Christopher told you who killed Paul's wife and the girls?"

  James drew a sharp breath, his handsome face going hard again, then he blew out the breath and closed his eyes. "I was in a hurry. That's the only reason, I swear to you. I wanted to be immediately on the man's trail, and I didn't have time for anything else."

  "And even if you had no idea what Christopher was to me, you didn't think I'd want to know that you'd found the name of the murderer?"

  "I didn't think anything," James said. "I just wanted to get him. I thought . . ." He sighed again and rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. "For some reason I thought that if I came back and laid Mallory's dead body at your feet, you'd be happy. You'd be proud of me. But of course, nothing about that worked out the way I thought it would."