The Pirate Lord: Aristocrat. Rogue. Spy. Read online

  “Where is your mistress?”

  He jumped to his feet. “She is off fetching our supper, sir.”

  “For both of you? I thought you were supposed to do that for her.”

  “Yes, sir, but cook hasn’t enough so Winnie will share her portion with me. She says we mustn’t deprive the regular sailors of their rations.”

  Jon looked down at his plate. Bronwyn would be served little enough for one, never mind two. He handed his plate to the boy. “You may have mine. I’m not hungry.”

  The young lad’s face lit up as though he had not had a real meal in days. “Thank you, sir!”

  “Do you like being at sea, boy?”

  “Yes sir, Captain Stag. When I am strong enough, I’m going to learn the rigging and climb the masts as James does.”

  “Not strong enough? Why, what is wrong with you?”

  “It is my lungs, sir. They are buggered but Winnie says the sea air will clear the weakness right out of them.”

  “You mean Lady Bronwyn.”

  The boy’s pale face looked stricken for a moment. “Yes sir. Lady Bronwyn Gage. I keep forgetting.”

  He would have stayed and asked why he kept forgetting the name of his benefactor, but Jon heard Lady Gage’s voice on the stair. She was coming below deck.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your dinner, young master.... What is your name, lad?”

  “Roddy Barlow, sir. Thank you, Captain Stag. I shall.”

  Chapter Seven

  JON PONDERED the sight of Bronwyn Gage walking the main deck under the full moon, her ebony hair unbound. The night watch had reported seeing the lady wandering the length of the ship, examining the ropes and rigging with curiosity. She’d asked intelligent questions about seamanship, the meaning of the bells that were rung to signal the beginning and the end of a watch; general facts about sailing and she was keen to learn how to read the wind.

  “She already knows how to read stars, Captain. She knows all their names too and how to navigate by them.”

  Jon had set down his wine and left the great cabin to observe this phenomenon. He watched as Lady Gage rested her arms on the ship’s rail and gazed up at the night sky for a quarter of an hour. She showed no sign of tiring of the view or the Atlantic air.

  “What do you expect to find?” Jon said at last, breaking her reverie. He had moved behind the mainmast where he could observe her undetected.

  Bronwyn whirled around, her head turning this way and that. “Who is there?”

  Jon stepped out of the shadow. “It is Captain Stag. What are you doing, Lady Gage?”

  She drew her cloak over her nightdress which appeared to be little more than a threadbare chemise. “This is the only time one can be left in peace to think. A ship is no place for solitary reflection during the daylight hours. There is too much to do and too much activity.”

  He found himself moving closer to stand beside her. “And what is the subject occupying your thoughts at this hour?”

  A blush crept over her cheeks. “I cannot tell you. You’ll either laugh or scold and both are intolerable. You are a mercurial man, Captain Stag. No sooner have I concluded that you are thoroughly wicked when you do something unaccountably kind.”

  She lifted her shining eyes to his.

  Jon swallowed as a shiver went through him. Bill was right. The girl was a witch.

  He found his voice. “What have I done to earn your approval?”

  “You gave up your ration share to my cabin boy tonight. I was going to offer him my own dinner when he told me you had stopped by with a generous portion from yours.”

  “You would have starved if I had not.” He turned his eyes away, fixing them on the inky black horizon. His heart was beating fast. “You are precious cargo, Lady Gage. I should warn you, I mean to turn a profit from this enterprise.”

  “How so?” Her eyes were guileless.

  Jon crooked an eyebrow. “Do you mean to say you don’t know? I would’ve thought as a general’s daughter you’d be better informed. There is a rumor of gold aboard the Dauntless. The British payroll for the soldiers caught in the Boston siege. Most of them are colonial regulars who will defect to the other side if they are not paid. I intend to offer Captain Treacher escort to ensure its safe passage across the Atlantic.”

  Lady Gage smiled sweetly. “How very noble, Captain Stag. Is that the reason the Black Adder is heavily armed and why you were so impatient to go after the Dauntless—all in support of the British army? You must forgive my skepticism, sir. You are a pirate after all. If there is gold aboard the Dauntless, you mean to steal it.”

  Jon could not tear his eyes away from her face. Lady Bronwyn was becoming more and more interesting by the hour. “Your logic is faulty, madam. However, I do expect to be rewarded for my service to the Crown. My men must be compensated for their labor or I’ll lose them to another ship.”

  “I thought there was loyalty among pirates.”

  “I am a privateer,” His mouth twisted. “Aboard the Black Adder, there is no loyalty to anything but gold and silver.”

  She fell silent and turned her gaze back to the stars. “Then I am sorry for you. What a lonely way to live.”

  Jon started. “Lonely? I am surrounded by men night and day.”

  “You take your meals in your cabin alone. You walk about giving orders alone. You do not trust any man who serves under you. You are the loneliest man I have ever met. That is probably why you are so mean. You would have less trouble keeping a crew if you were kinder. Your men are loyal to you but you do not make it easy.”

  “It is not my job to make it easy. It is my job to fill their pay packets and keep them alive for as long as possible. I do not have it in me to be kind. There is no profit in it.”

  “Then I withdraw my praise, sir. You are no different from every other tyrant.”

  And with that, Lady Gage dismissed him from her notice. He could linger if he liked, but she would not share her thoughts or opinions with him any further.

  “You are not afraid of me,” he said coldly. “Why?”

  She drew herself up and her eyes flashed fire. “I am not afraid of any man—pirate or prince. Do your worst, I’ll fight back. I am not afraid to fight, Captain Stag.”

  He had provoked her temper. Good. He could not enjoy a conquest if there was no fight left in his foe. “I shall have to test that statement, my lady. It is one thing to claim courage when all is well. I wonder how brave you’ll be when faced with a real battle. You have not seen me at my worst. Perhaps it is time you did.”

  “Spoken like a true tyrant,” she replied with equal hostility.

  “In that case, I look forward to the evening I shall have with you,” he said brutally. “One more night, madam, and then I’ll see you in my quarters at six bells. Do not keep me waiting.”

  Jon bowed with stiff courtesy and stalked off. He could not sleep all that night and woke in a foul mood that was matched by the weather.

  §

  RAIN DROVE down in thick sheets. Bronwyn took one look at the weather and ordered Roddy to climb into her berth.

  “You will not work out in that today. You’ll catch your death.”

  “I’m cook’s assistant today. I’m to help him in the galley. I won’t be out in the rain,” Roddy complained. “I am quite well. The other fellows will think I’m a good-for-nothing.”

  “I’ve already made arrangements with Captain Stag to enlist you as my cabin boy.” At great cost, she might have added but she would not burden her brother with the details. Besides, Bronwyn was still working on a way to become so disagreeable to the captain that he hated the very sight of her.

  His confession last night about the gold had come as a surprise. She would have thought an arrogant cock-of-the-walk like Stag would know better than to reveal his plans to a woman he hoped to control. As she had observed on many occasions, men gave away far more than they knew in conversation. Stag was going to steal the payroll gold, no matter how much wool he tried to p
ull over her eyes.

  As Bronwyn drew her cloak over her shoulders, she could not help but marvel at his daring. Stag’s assault on the Dauntless as stupid at best; a worst, it would be the pirate captain’s undoing. It was madness to even try! But Jon Stag wouldn’t quit even if it meant certain death for him and his crew. The villain was driven by greed.

  Bronwyn froze. What a fool she was! The sailor at the Mariner’s Tavern had tried to warn her of the danger and she’d only barely paid attention. Bronwyn and Roddy were sailing into rough waters on a ship loaded with gunpowder, under the command of a man who was hell-bent on piracy. What possible outcome could there be but open warfare?

  And they would be caught in the middle!

  Her eye went to her brother. He was lying flat on his back on the berth, staring sulkily at the timbers above. “Do you feel well enough to learn how to shoot, Roddy?”

  The nine-year-old swung his legs off the bunk and sat bold upright. “Yes!”

  Ever since they ran away from the parish, he had been plaguing her to teach him how to fire a weapon. Bronwyn had always resisted. She wanted Roddy to have as normal a boyhood as possible. She was fourteen when her father taught her; there was plenty of time. Or so she thought. The world was suddenly a dangerous place. The boy needed to know how to defend himself.

  “I’ll teach you but you must remember to call me ‘Lady Gage’ or ‘my lady’ when the others are around. Today is the perfect day to learn. The rain will muffle the report.”

  Roddy had been given a tricorner hat when he joined the crew and he pulled it on. The cocked brim would keep his head dry and his jacket was weather proof. He stood at attention as though waiting for orders.

  Bronwyn gave him a lopsided grin and dropped to her knees to retrieve the valise from under the berth. The pistol was there, the muzzle loader and the precious lead shot pellets just where she left them, hidden under her Bible.

  “If anyone asks us what we are doing, just follow my lead and do as I say. I am Lady Gage and I have authority on a vessel sailing under the British flag to do as I please.”

  This was not true but it was important for Roddy to believe it was. She ushered her brother above deck, thinking how far she had come from her father’s religious instruction. By teaching a child how to kill a man, Bronwyn was taking another step closer to hell.

  Lying, stealing, attempted murder.... What hadn’t she done to survive?

  Fornication.

  §

  BILL HAWKINS paced the floor gloomily. “Mr. Frame reckons we’ll be in sight of the Dauntless within the week. She’s sailing fast to be this far ahead of us. Is it your plan to follow her all the way to the New World if we miss her?”

  Jon had avoided seeing Bronwyn all day. No easy feat in the confines of the Black. He had stuck close to his quarters and tried to concentrate on work. Tomorrow night she would be here, in his bed....

  “Are you even bloody listening to me?” Hawkins roared. “Jon Stag, wake up from whatever dream you’re in and give me orders to pass along to the men! Are we readying for battle or do we cut and run if the plan goes south?”

  Jon was snapped back to the present. “We shall prepare the ship for battle,” he said without interest. “Order the gunners to clean the cannons and have the powder loaded and standing by. We won’t get a second chance so we’ll not let this one pass us by. If they will not surrender the gold, we will take it by force.”

  Bill grunted. “The lady was seen firing a pistol today. Where did she get that, I wonder?’

  Jon shrugged and fought down a smile. Somehow, he could imagine Bronwyn knowing how to shoot. She possessed the same killer instinct he recognized in himself.

  “She likely brought it with her in that leather valise she drags about. Many a well-bred young lady carries a pistol nowadays for protection. Was she a good shot?”

  “Deadly good,” Hawkins grunted. “If she wasn’t our hostage, I’d want the lady fighting on our side. She was there for an hour with the boy, hitting target after target in the rain no less. Are you sure she’s not a spy? She has all the earmarks of being one to my way of thinking.”

  A vision of her filled his mind, crowding out everything else: Bronwyn shooting at targets in the rain, her beautiful serious face, arresting in its mystery. Suddenly Jon regretted the bargain he had struck with her, feeling in his bones that she would be his undoing.

  Too late, Jon Stag.

  He could no more resist Bronwyn than he could turn his back on the gold.

  Chapter Eight

  THE DAY had worn away in an agony of anticipation. She tried to put the coming evening out of her mind and was successful for the most part when the sun was high and the whole ordeal seemed very far off.

  But then the sun set and the hours dragged on until she thought she would go mad from tension. Bronwyn had not yet thought of a plan to put Captain Stag off and for good reason. An extra serving of rations had been ordered to feed the boy. Cook had given her a double portion—Captain’s orders, he’d said—which meant Stag was doing without or eating less. All because she had agreed to come to his bed! How could she defend herself against that—that bloody single-mindedness to get what he wanted? Jon Stag baffled and frightened her.

  Bronwyn stood in the middle of her darkened room and watched her brother sleeping. His breathing was easy and the dreadful wheeze had left his lungs. She was just as single-minded about Roddy. She would do harm before she’d allow him to be taken from her a second time.

  There were small tasks to do before she left the cabin. Her hair to be brushed out, her dress to remove and though it all, she was shaking with nerves. If he had challenged her to steal, fight or commit murder she would have been more comfortable. But this! Intimacy—physical intimacy was not something she expected she would have to face with the captain. He was supposed to covet riches, not women! The men in the tavern were either lying about the privateer or Stag was not the man he claimed to be.

  She examined her reflection in the looking glass. Years ago, a young man in her father’s parish had told she was pretty, but much had changed since then. Starvation and anxiety had taken their toll. The bloom of youth was gone from her cheeks and her eyes were wary and sharp. Not at all the pretty, happy girl she was before the death of her parents.

  And now her life had come to this. A pirate’s prize. A fallen woman. Would he be able to tell that she was a virgin? Perhaps she should confess; it might change his mind. No, that would not do. He believed her to be a married lady. She’d lied once, why would he believe her this time?

  Bronwyn fixed her hair in a loose braid and contemplated her reflection. Marriage. It had never occurred to her that she might one day enter into that holy estate. That she would find a husband was a ridiculous notion for a girl with no dowry. If examined from that perspective, she mused philosophically, the loss of her virtue was no great sacrifice.

  When had she had time to fall in love, much less find a beau? She was only ten years old when Roddy was born. Her mother had placed her in charge of the infant, being busy in her work in the parish attending to the sick and the troubled. Her mother helped her father in every way she could. The children, by necessity, remained at home.

  Roddy was her full responsibility when their parents died. He could not comprehend why they were turned out of their home and Bronwyn lacked the words to explain to a sickly little boy the way of the world. They had to go and as soon as possible.

  His lungs were poorly. But he was brave—so brave! Her brother trusted her completely to keep him safe and so she had. Whatever it took to keep them alive, Bronwyn had done it. After the crimes she had committed these past two years, was this latest sin so terrible?

  Yet, she had a feeling this one would be the worst of all.

  As she left the cabin and moved noiselessly down the shadowed corridor to Captain Stag’s quarters, Bronwyn knew in her soul she was crossing a line and she would never be the same again.

  §

  STAG SCAR
CELY looked up when she entered. He had undressed to his breeches and had even kicked off his boots. The windows were flung open to drive out of the stench of ale, tobacco and male bodily odors.

  “You must excuse my manner. It has been some time since I’ve entertained a lady on board. The Black Adder is not accommodating of the weaker sex.”

  This was said with no small degree of satisfaction as though he was proud of his incivility.

  “You don’t like women,” Bronwyn said with sudden understanding. “It galls you to have me on board your precious ship—so much so that you insist upon this degrading payment to compensate for my presence.”

  “Degrading?” Jon Stag lifted one of his thick black brows in amusement. “I hope I am not as physically repugnant as that. You are wrong about me, Lady Gage. I do not hate women. I have no patience for their folly, their whims, and most especially for their games. For all your indignant protestations, here you are looking rather fetching in that tiny threadbare chemise. I can see right through it, as you are well aware. You would betray your husband for the sake of being pampered and waited upon for the duration of the voyage.” He made a face of cynical derision. “Is it any wonder that I do not fall all over myself trying to please a woman? You are creatures not worthy of my attention.”

  Bronwyn drew her arms over her breasts embarrassed by the condition of her shift. She’d worn it since she was sixteen and frequent washings had taken their toll. She had anticipated buying new clothes for her and Roddy with her first pay packet from Mrs. Potts. It was rather mean of him to point it out.

  “We are not worthy of your attention and yet you demand that I give you mine,” she replied coldly. “Well here I am, for reasons a man like you could not possibly understand. I will not bore you with an explanation. There is no need to woo me or make inane conversation.” She moved to the berth and lay down. “Let’s get this over with.”