Stolen by Starlight: A Pirates of Britannia World Novel

by Borthiry, Avril

  His mouth quirked. “A foolish thing to say to your kidnapper.”

  She tensed, visibly. “There you go again, with your bloody veiled threats. How do I know you won’t send me back to my father instead? In which case, I’ll likely end up being married to that horrid man. Forgive me if I don’t quite trust you, Captain, but your chosen profession is not one associated with the qualities of grace and integrity.”

  “Yet neither I nor any of my crew have harmed you,” Jake said. “Who do you fear more? Me or your noble father?”

  “I fear you both,” she said after a moment. “But for different reasons.”

  “I will never knowingly put you in harm’s way,” he said, wincing inwardly. “Good enough?”

  “Not really, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” Amy heaved a sigh and sat back again. “And I must also suppose I’m going to be here a while.”

  “At least a week.”

  She looked down at herself again. “I’ll need some clothes.”

  “I already thought of that. They should be here tomorrow.”

  She gasped. “You continue to surprise me, Captain. Actually, may I call you Jacob?”

  “I’d prefer Jake. Imogen is the only one who calls me Jacob. And don’t get too excited about the clothes. They are serviceable rather than fashionable.”

  “I don’t care. I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

  Amy’s simple expression of gratitude put another dent in Jake’s battered conscience. He nodded his response and finished his drink.

  “I can’t believe your grandmother was a pirate. She’s so refined and well-mannered.” Amy wrinkled her nose. “You don’t take after her in the least.”

  Jake chuckled. “I have my moments.” Eyeing his empty glass, he rose to fill it. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Er, no, thank you,” she replied. “I’m curious. How did your grandmother know I was coming? For the life of me, I cannot figure it out.”

  “Homing pigeon,” Jake said. “There’s a pigeon-loft out back. I always have a couple of birds on the ship. Tie a message to the bird’s leg and send her on her way. It’s not an infallible system, but it works quite well.”

  “Very clever. I would never have guessed. Are all of your family pirates?”

  “All of my family are beneath this roof.” Jake took his place beside her again. “My mother died soon after I was born, so I spent the first twelve years of my life with Imogen. As soon as I was old enough, which was at age seven, she put me to work on board ship.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Which is why, to this day, I have a lot of respect for cabin boys.”

  Amy twisted sideways and drew her legs up, curling them beneath her. Jake stared into his glass, silently cursing her effect on him.

  “What about your father?” she asked. “Where was he?”

  “In England,” Jake replied. “Illegitimacy is something you and I have in common.”

  “Ah, I see. So, he has passed?”

  “These ten years.”

  “I’m sorry.” She appeared to reflect. “You must have spent time there, though. In England, I mean. I can tell by the way you speak.”

  “I attended a boarding school in London for several years. An education was the only thing my father ever gave me. Other than that, I had little to do with him.”

  “He was wealthy, then.”

  “A minor noble. His name was Jacob Loftus, and he served as a Post Captain in the Royal Navy. I’m named for him, obviously. He met my mother in the Bahamas, which is where I was conceived. It was a clandestine affair and short lived.” Jake cleared his throat, surprised and a little dismayed by how easily he’d volunteered such details to Amy. As a rule, he preferred to keep his personal life private. The less people knew about him, the better. He eyed his glass. It had to be the bloody whiskey.

  “What are the Bahamas like?” she asked.

  “Pirate territory, not for the faint-hearted.” Jake’s mind ventured into some old memories. “But it’s warm all the time. Sunny most of the time. The sea is as blue as the sky and the sand feels like silk on your feet. No shortage of fresh fish, bananas and coconuts. No shortage of women and rum, either. Actually, now I come to think about it, it’s paradise.”

  Amy snorted, pulled her knees up under the shirt and wrapped her arms around them. Only her toes could be seen; ten perfectly shaped digits, poking out from under her tent-like attire. Jake’s wilting erection sprang to life again.

  God, give me strength.

  He moved his hips, trying to find a more comfortable position. The desire to seduce the lass had him grinding his teeth in silent frustration.

  “I’ve never eaten a banana,” she said, “but I’d love to try one.”

  A groan escaped him. “Are you doing this on purpose, Amy?”

  Her smile faded. “Doing what?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “No more questions. Go and get some rest.”

  A look of confusion settled on her face. “But I’m not tired.”

  “Go anyway.”

  “Why?” She pursed her lips. “Is it because I asked about your father? Have I offended you?”

  “Not at all, mo chailín. I just think it would be safer for you if you left.”

  “Safer?”

  “Aye.” He reached over and tugged on one of her stray curls. “You’re very beautiful, you know, even when you’re wearing a tent. We’re alone, I’ve had a couple of drinks, and my cock is refusing to behave. A man only has so much self-control, and I fear I’m about to lose mine.”

  “Oh!” Cheeks red, she threw a mortified glance at Jake’s groin. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or horrified.”

  Jake chuckled. “Just go to bed,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Six

  The Smuggler’s Lair sat in the shadow of Dún na Séad Castle in the harbour town of the same name. The inn served as one of the links in a chain of similar establishments scattered around the British Isles. They were hubs; places where men of questionable morals might meet and do business. Usually, this business included the buying and selling of merchandise, obtained legally or otherwise.

  Bartering was one thing, and common enough between those of similar ilk. But only the affluent in society could actually purchase some of the more desirable items. No surprise, then, that merchants and gentry rubbed shoulders with pirates and smugglers.

  Being an inn, The Smuggler’s Lair also served food and drink as well as the company of a willing wench. Or two wenches, if a man threw enough coin across the bar.

  The air hung heavy with the stench of stale beer, unwashed bodies, and harsh tobacco smoke. A hum of conversation rose and fell, punctuated by the occasional shout or loud guffaw of laughter.

  It was early yet, however, and relatively calm. The brawling wouldn’t start till the drink had taken its toll and done away with inhibitions. Tankard of ale in hand, Jake made his way to the back of the room, nodding greetings to those he knew. Being the grandson of a fearsome female pirate afforded him some automatic respect. The rest he had earned, and few, if any, disputed it.

  He sat down at an empty table to wait for Quinn, an Irish pirate who also worked as a negotiator, smuggler and spy. The man was a professional go-between, adept at negotiating and arranging barter and ransom exchanges. He’d agreed to deliver the ransom note for Amy, and had, apparently, already received a response.

  Jake had stayed at Dún Caorthann for five days, two days longer than anticipated. He’d intended to return to the Queen earlier but kept finding reasons to stay with his feisty little hostage. He’d begun to suspect his grandmother might have been right. That his attraction to this girl was more than carnal.

  Aye, Amy was physically pleasing, but she also managed to entertain him simply by being around. She challenged him without apology, listened to his stories with genuine interest, and nettled him as much as she made him laugh.

  That morning, at Dún Caorthann, he’d risen early simply because
he’d been eager to see Amy and spend time with her. In fact, if he’d not received a message that same morning, telling him to get his arse back to port, he’d likely still be there.

  Not good. Not good at all. Despite Imogen’s experiences, Jake figured a pirate had no room for such complications in his life. The sooner the lass was out of his hair – and out of his head – the better. Or maybe not.

  “Bollocks,” he said, and took a mouthful of ale.

  “Jake, mo mhuirnín! I was beginning to think ye’d fallen off the earth.” Kiandra O’Donnell appeared before him, lifted her skirts, and placed a slippered foot on the chair between his knees. “I’ve been saving meself.” She slid a hand into the crease of her thigh. “No one’s been here since I last saw ye.”

  Jake gave the wench a swift once-over. Kiandra was a fine-looking lass, with her sleek black hair, soft grey eyes, and a body that went in and out in all the right places. Jake had bedded her often, and always to their mutual enjoyment. At one time, seeing her like this, he’d have felt an instant tug of desire. But now, he felt nothing and chose not to ask himself why.

  “I’m flattered, mo chailín,” he said, not believing her claim of chastity for a moment, “but I’ll not have any time for us tonight.”

  She pouted and straddled a chair, leaning forward in an exaggerated fashion to afford Jake the best view of her cleavage. “Word is, ye’ve got yerself a woman, Jake. A sasanach, no less.” Eyes glinting, she lifted her chin. “Is it true, then? Are us Irish lasses not good enough for ye anymore?”

  Jake sighed inwardly. Rumor and gossip travelled with the speed and ferocity of the west wind in these parts. He cleared his throat and chose his words with some care. The last thing he needed right now was to rile a jealous female, especially an Irish jealous female. There were few things in the world more dangerous. “Don’t be daft,” he said. “Once you’ve had a chailín ‘tween the sheets, you’ve no desire for any other.”

  Kiandra didn’t look convinced and wrinkled her nose. “Who is she then, this sasanach?”

  “No one important.” The statement felt traitorous. “An inconvenience. She’ll be gone soon.”

  “Good.” Kiandra lowered her chin and gazed at him from beneath her lashes. “Are ye sure ye don’t have any spare time, mo mhuirnín? Give me ten minutes with ye. Five, even. And I’ll take ye to the stars. Ye know I will.”

  For a fleeting moment, Jake genuinely considered her offer. The lass could do things with her mouth that defied belief. But something held him back. Pirate business, he told himself. Right now, he had more pressing things to think about.

  “You tempt me, Kiandra,” he said, noticing Quinn’s unmistakable form pushing its way through the crowd, “but I have some important matters to take care of tonight and cannot afford any distractions, even one as lovely as you.”

  The words didn’t appear to placate the lass, who rose from her chair with a pout. “Your loss,” she said, tossing her hair as she turned away.

  Quinn watched her departure and then grinned at Jake. “The wench has a face like a smacked arse,” he said, setting his tankard on the table and seating himself. “What did you say to her?”

  “No,” Jake replied, and took another swig of ale.

  The man chuckled. “Aye, that’ll do it. Reckon Miss Kiandra ain’t used to hearing that word too often.”

  Jake wondered, vaguely, what Amy was doing at that moment. “What news, Quinn?”

  “Good and bad.” The man tucked his chair further under the table and pulled a scroll from his jacket. “He’s agreed to pay the ransom. All of it. But you must include the silks, otherwise, you can shove them up your arse. His lordship’s words, not mine.” He held out a scroll. “Here. Have a look. Anyway, he says he paid for them once, won’t pay for them twice.”

  Jake unfurled the paper. “And if we don’t agree to include the silks?”

  “Then he’ll only pay you a thousand gold guineas, not the two thousand you’re asking for.”

  Jake shook his head. It seemed Amy’s low opinion of her father had merit. “She’s his daughter, for Christ’s sake,” he mumbled.

  “True, but he claims that the deal with Dalton is off, since the man reckons his would-be bride is now soiled goods. So, his lordship has had to make good on the gambling debt, which was nearly thousand pounds. He blames you for that and reckons he should be compensated. If you want my opinion, Jake, take the deal.”

  “A thousand pounds?” Jake gave a low whistle. “High stakes.”

  “Highly nefarious games,” Quinn said. “Well? Are we in business?”

  If you proceed with this, you’ll lose her. Think hard about what you are doing.

  Jake inhaled a lungful of stale air. Was it still business? Or had it become personal? Could he stand to lose Amy? Despite his earlier resolve, the mere thought of doing so felt like a knife in his heart. Maybe he should just send her to her mother and be done with it. But then, what of his crew? They’d be expecting their share of the ransom, and rightly so.

  If only there was a way to keep the ransom and the girl. But he couldn’t see how. That would mean—

  He straightened. That would mean stealing her back again. The mad idea anchored itself in his mind. Might it actually work?

  “It might,” he murmured.

  “What might?” Quinn shifted on his chair. “Do we set it up, or not?”

  “Aye.” Jake gave Quinn a devilish smile. “Let’s do it. No silks, though. I’ll unload them elsewhere. But I also want to make a change.”

  Not five minutes later, after hearing the amended plan, Quinn sat back and stared at Jake as if he’d grown an extra head. “The gold and the lass? Bejesus, but you’re a mad bastard, Jake. Out of your feckin’ mind.”

  “I agree.”

  “This lass means that much to you?”

  Jake grimaced. “I think so.”

  Quinn grunted. “Right. If that’s how it’s to be. Though, if you do manage to pull it off, I don’t see that it’ll make much difference. The lass is going to hate you anyway.”

  “You’re probably right. But at least this way the crew get their share of the loot and I get a shot at redemption.” Jake shrugged. “I reckon it’s worth a try.”

  “You could always tell her the truth beforehand. Then she’ll be prepared for your deception.”

  “Which is precisely why I can’t tell her,” Jake replied. “She’s a feckless liar. Her dear papa would see through her poor acting right away. Her reaction to him has to be real, or he’ll be suspicious.”

  “As you wish.” Quinn shook his head. “I still say you’re out of your mind.”

  “No argument from me. Where do you recommend we do this?”

  “Well, I’ve given it some thought. Bristol is the most likely choice, and that being so, where else but the Cock and Dolphin in Redcliffe?”

  “Happy Harry.” Jake chuckled. “Bloody hell. Haven’t seen the miserable bastard for years.”

  “He’s still a miserable bastard, but solid as a rock. I’d trust him with my life. I’d trust him with my children’s lives.”

  Jake’s tankard paused on the way to his mouth. “You have children, Quinn?”

  Quinn grinned. “Not that I know of. But if I did, I’d trust him with ‘em. While I’m thinking about it, be sure to fly the Irish standard and anchor the Queen off Walton Bay. That’ll be close enough. Do you want me to arrange the recapture?”

  “Aye.” Jake’s mouth quirked. “Highway robbery isn’t my forte.”

  Quinn chuckled. “I’ll take care of it. You’ll need a disguise as well. Do you trust me with that?”

  “Christ, no, but I guess I have no choice.”

  “I’ll get everything organized, Jake, don’t worry. It’s what I do.” Quinn rubbed his hands together. “I feckin’ love this shite. You going back to Dún Caorthann?”

  “Not till after I hear from you. I’ll be on the Queen.”

  “Leaving the lass with the dowager, eh? How is the
old lady?”

  “If she heard you call her that, she’d hack your balls off and feed them to the dog.”

  Quinn chuckled and got to his feet. “Still the same, then.”

  “Never changes.” Jake stood too, spat in his palm, and extended it, prompting Quinn to do the same. “Appreciate it, mo chara,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “You know where I’ll be.”

  “I do. It’ll take a bit of time to sort the details, so don’t expect to hear anything for at least a week.”

  Chapter Seven

  Amy sat on the window-seat in the parlor, letting her thoughts wander as she watched the raindrops roll down the glass. Outside, skies thick with clouds stretched into bleakness, as they had done for the past three days. Suppressing a shiver, she tugged her shawl around her shoulders.

  A fortnight had passed since her arrival at Dún Caorthann. It seemed longer. Thoughts of escape had been sporadic and lacking any real substance. Amy’s solitary journey to France had been fraught with fear. She didn’t want to go through anything like that again. Or maybe, deep down inside, she didn’t want to escape. The time spent at Jake’s home had not been unpleasant. Especially not for the first week, when Jake had been there.

  As promised, Amy’s new clothes had arrived, delivered by a little leather-skinned man driving a donkey and cart. And, as Jake had indicated, they were definitely more serviceable than fashionable; a couple of cotton blouses, two grey woolen skirts with matching laced bodices, as well as some undergarments and a nightgown. The sizes were a little generous, but Bridget had done some quick alterations to compensate.

  Amy heaved a sigh and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Who’d have thought that a pirate captain, a brigand who had control over her fate, would sneak his way into her heart? It made no sense. Or maybe it did. Until she met him, her future had actually looked far bleaker. Their meeting had been an odd twist of fortune. Perhaps the lesser of two evils.

  There was something about him she couldn’t quite define. Jacob McNamara was both brigand and gentleman, thief and altruist. A man of questionable morals and unquestionable intelligence. Then again, maybe she’d been utterly taken in by him. Perhaps he’d merely been toying with her all this time. Lulling her into a false sense of trust. She was vulnerable, after all. At his mercy.