Once Upon a Pirate: Sixteen Swashbuckling Historical Romances Read online

  Lord Killian turned white as a sheet, his mouth flapping like the sails above them. “I…how dare you…you cannot do this to me,” he managed to say in spite of his obvious fright. “I am an earl.”

  Martin opened his mouth to censure both men, but before he could, Dick fired. Blood and brains splattered over the deck. Lord Killian’s lifeless body dropped to the floor.

  “Now you’re a corpse,” Dick sneered.

  All hell broke loose. The crew of the merchant ship erupted into furious protest. The male passengers either joined them in shocked protest or bent double, hurling up their stomachs. One man fainted dead away. The younger Lord Killian merely gaped at his father’s body, going as pale as the old man had been. Behind Martin, screams echoed up from the female prisoners that were followed by more screams and wailing.

  Lettuce had frozen completely, her eyes wide with horror, her knuckles white where she gripped her book.

  “Dick,” Martin bellowed, glaring daggers at his first mate. “What the devil was that for?”

  “The man was a threat,” Dick shouted right back.

  “He was an old man in a dressing gown,” Martin roared.

  “He had a knife in his hand,” Dick shouted louder, pointing the smoking pistol at the corpse.

  Sure enough, the dead lord had a long, wicked-looking blade, half concealed in his hand. Still, Martin didn’t think he could have done any real damage. It would have taken two seconds to disarm the old fool.

  “You didn’t have to kill him,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “He wasn’t—”

  A cry rose up from the merchant ship’s crewmen. They hadn't been as well-secured as Martin thought they were. They leapt away from the corner where a few of his men had been guarding them and lunged at whoever they could. There was a short, devastating flash of activity. Shots were fired, both by the crewmen and by Martin’s own men. The majority of the crewmen and two of Martin’s men fell in bloody piles on the deck. More screams from the women split the air. The majority of the male passengers ducked or scrambled to get out of the way.

  Pigge leapt toward Lettuce. “Now, woman,” he shouted, grabbing her arm.

  Martin didn’t know if Pigge meant to use Lettuce as a shield or whether he thought the two of them could make some sort of escape, or even whether he thought Lettuce would fight the pirates to save him. There wasn’t time to know any of it. Before Pigge do more than clamp Lettuce’s arm, Martin drew his pistol and fired, hitting the blackguard square between the eyes. Pigge fell to the deck, instantly dead.

  “Dammit,” Martin hissed, lowering his weapon. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, leaning toward Lettuce. “God, I’m so, so sorry. It was reflex. The fight. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Thank God,” she wailed. “Thank God Almighty.” She dropped to her knees, then curled in on herself and her book, weeping like Martin had never seen a woman weep before. And it wasn’t the kind of terrified weeping that the rest of the female passengers were currently engaged in either. Lettuce’s tears were so obviously tears of joy that Martin felt both proud and miserable at the same time.

  Whatever the drama was that he’d just ended for Lettuce, he had a far more serious problem on his hands.

  “Cease this nonsense at once,” he boomed, holding his arms out to his men. “Every one of you, stand down!”

  His command was, arguably, useless. The fight had ended as soon as it began. The result was that the majority of the merchant ship’s crew lay dead on the quarterdeck, along with Lord Killian and Pigge. Two of his men writhed in pain, one cradling his arm and one his leg where they had been shot. Already, they were being helped by their fellows.

  “Dick,” Martin snapped, turning to face the clear instigator of the whole mess. “This was supposed to be a quiet journey home, but now I’ve got eight dead men to dispose of, a passel of terrified prisoners to deal with, and two of our best men injured.”

  “And a merchant ship containing who knows what booty that is all ours now,” Dick argued. He took a step forward, coming to stand in direct opposition to Martin. “We’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams now.”

  “We were already rich after the capture of The Mercury,” Martin argued. “And we don’t know what’s in the merchant ship’s hold.”

  “Silk,” Lettuce said, rising from her crouch, still clutching her book. Her face was red and puffy and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Silk,” she repeated. “And linen. And good English wool. Brocade. And French wine as well.” She was almost laughing as she rattled off the list. So much so that Martin feared for her sanity. “Pigge was determined to make a fortune in Charleston, but now it’s yours. Now it’s yours.” She heaved a sigh of relief and squeezed her eyes shut, as if saying a prayer of thanks.

  Martin was too stunned by her incomprehensible reaction to reply.

  Dick was not. “Did you hear that?” he asked, his eyes glowing with avarice, like a true pirate. “I told you it was a good idea to capture this ship. A fortune. We’ve captured a fortune.”

  “We’ve captured a colossal problem,” Martin sighed. He held his pistol to the side, knowing that Jolly would rush up to take it, which he did. Then he rubbed his face with both hands. The sun was barely up, and already his head was throbbing. He pivoted to stare out over the center of his ship, to the dozen or so women huddled together. He glanced back to the horrified and outraged male passengers and the handful of remaining crewmen.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. It was time to take the situation in hand. “Which one of you is, or was, the captain?” he asked the crewmen.

  “That’s Captain Moone,” one of them said, pointing at one of the corpses that held a long knife.

  “Excellent,” Dick said with a vicious smile. “Then the ship is ours.”

  He was right, of course, but Martin was in no mood to encourage the man. All he did was nod.

  “Clean this up,” he ordered his crew, gesturing to the carnage on the deck. “Secure the prisoners,” he continued to issue orders. “Move the women to The Growler. Dick, choose a dozen men to take the merchant ship. I want an inventory of the cargo by nightfall.”

  As his men launched into motion around him, Martin began to move as well, he turned away from the dead men and strode to the railing at the edge of the deck. As he suspected, some of his less disciplined men were already pestering the female passengers.

  “Keep your hands off of the women,” he shouted loud enough for everyone on the ship to hear. “No one touches them until we sort things out unless it’s to help them across from one ship to the other.”

  A few moans of disappointment rang from the deck, just audible over the weeping of the women. He trusted his crew enough to hold off on the raping part of raping and pillaging, but only for so long. He turned back to Dick.

  “Keep the male passengers secure here. The women will be held on The Growler. That should discourage anyone from attempting another revolt.” He spoke loud enough for the men of the merchant ship to hear him.

  “What about me, Captain? What can I do?” Jolly asked, all wide eyes and eagerness.

  Martin didn’t have the heart to order the boy to help dispose of the bodies. “I want you to help guard the women,” he said, starting toward the ladder and making his way down to the main deck, to where the women were already being helped across the tenuous bridge that had been made between the two ships when the merchant vessel was boarded. Jolly followed him, and to his surprise, Lettuce did as well. Though that very well could have been because she wanted to join the rest of the women at last.

  The three of them crossed over to The Growler. It took a bit more work to coax, drag, or carry the rest of the women over. Once the task was done, the women clustered together near the mainmast, a tearful, terrified bundle of skirts and nightgowns. Lettuce calmly stepped into the group. Her head was lowered and her face hidden, but Martin could have sworn she wore a smile.

  “You’re our prisoners now,” he told them all in a firm voice. “I wou
ld like to tell you that you’re safe, that no harm will come to you, and that you will be dropped at the nearest port.”

  A grumble rose up from those of his men who were close enough to hear his pronouncement as they worked.

  “I’d like to tell you that,” Martin went on, “but we’ve been at sea for months now without women and only one short stop in port. So if any of you have ever secretly fantasized about being ravished by a pirate, well, now is the time to have that fantasy fulfilled.”

  The women’s wailing took on an entirely different tone. One or two of the poor things had gone pale and looked as though they’d been sentenced to the gallows. One or two had suddenly gone suspiciously quiet and were casting guilty looks at their fellow captives and curious ones at the pirates. Martin stole a peek at Lettuce, praying that she was one of those. Because he intended to have his way with her by nightfall, and he hoped to God she would be up for it. Most of the women were too stunned by his statement to react at all. And one….

  “Good Lord, you’re not a woman.” Martin scowled, nudging the ladies at the front of the group aside, making his way to a stooped figure near the back. He gripped the person’s arm, knowing instantly the muscle was far too thick to be that of a woman. With a yank, he pulled whoever it was to the deck in front of the women.

  Whoever it was turned out to be a man of decent height and slender build who just happened to be wearing a flowery gown and a frilly cap. He broke into a fool’s grin as soon as Martin dragged him out of hiding.

  “It seems you’ve figured out my disguise,” the man said with a self-effacing grin. He held his arms to the sides and glanced down at his gown. “I was so certain I could get away with it. It seemed like the perfect way to go unnoticed, what with all the men being rounded up by you ravening pirates and all. I knew I shouldn’t have traveled away from home. I rarely travel these days, not even to London. But fortune favors the bold and all that, and my bride insisted. I never thought I could fit into a dress, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything. It’s not all the way done up in the back, as you can see.” He turned to show Martin that, in fact, the dress’s ties barely reached behind the fool’s back. “It’s one of my bride’s gowns, you know. That’s her.” He turned to point to one of the wide-eyed women in the group of prisoners. “That’s Malvis. Strange name, I know, but she’s a terribly wonderful woman. We were just married days before setting sail on this journey, and what a journey it’s turned into. It reminds me of the trip I made when I was just a boy when my father took me to—”

  “For the love of God, man. Quiet,” Martin shouted. The man in the dress snapped his mouth shut. Martin gawked at him. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Ainsley,” the man said, extending his hand as though they were in a ballroom. “Lord Hugh Ainsley, Marquess of Biddlesford. I hardly ever bother with the title, though. It’s never done me any good anyhow. Never helped me to make friends and all that, though they say everyone falls all over themselves to make friends with marquesses and dukes and the like. People tend to keep their distance from me, though I’ve no idea why. That is why I am so in love with my darling Malvis. She’s quite the—”

  “Enough.” Martin silenced him again, raising both hands as if warding off an attack. “Very well, Lord Ainsley. If you wish to disguise yourself as a woman, then you shall be treated like a woman.” He raised his voice loud enough for any of his men who worked nearby to hear. They would likely devise better ways to deal with the man than he ever could. “Get back with the others,” he ordered the fool.

  “Yes, Captain. Whatever you say, Captain,” Ainsley answered with a broad smile and a cheery nod, bowing and curtsying his way back into the cluster of women—who were now all stunned to a stupefied silence.

  Martin sighed and turned back to the merchant ship. Clean-up was well underway on the quarterdeck. He regretted every life that had been lost. His surgeon had come up from below to treat the two men with gunshot wounds who had been moved back to The Growler. The Growler was still lashed to the merchant ship as it had been for the attack, which meant they wouldn’t be sailing any farther that day. His men were already up in the rigging, securing the sails to stop any disasters from befalling. All that he had left to do was supervise the proceedings and marvel over how badly his morning had started.

  Chapter 3

  Letty had never been a captive of pirates before. She’d only ever been a captive of her husband. But Pigge was dead now. As wrong as it was, given the circumstances, she couldn’t help but to tilt her head back and smile up at the morning sun, a weight she thought would never leave her lifted from her shoulders.

  “What in God’s name do you have to smile about?” Lady Malvis grumbled, catching Letty’s expression.

  Hours had passed since the capture and the women had all been moved to a corner of the fo’c’sle that was shaded by the sails above. They’d been given food and water, though not a change of clothes, and had had nothing to do but sit idly by, watching the pirates work to inventory the merchant ship and transfer some of its goods to The Growler, and to contemplate their fates.

  Letty lowered her head and shifted against the boards, sitting straighter. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said.

  Lady Malvis snorted. “I understand the cries for mercy that we could all hear through the cabin walls these last few weeks.”

  A chill shot down Letty’s back and her face heated. She risked a covert glance at Lady Malvis and was surprised to find a hint of sympathy behind the sour expression the horrible woman wore. When Letty peeked at some of the other women who had nothing better to do than eavesdrop, she saw similar expressions of sympathy and some empathy.

  “Did everyone know about…about Pigge?” she asked quietly.

  Several of the others nodded or made knowing sounds.

  Letty’s embarrassment tripled. She turned back to Lady Malvis and whispered, “Then why ask me what I have to smile about?”

  Lady Malvis crossed her arms and sniffed. “Because we’re all likely to get the same treatment and then some by the pirates before nightfall.”

  Letty’s first reaction was doubt. No one, not even a bloodthirsty pirate, could abuse her the way Pigge had. Certainly not the captain...whom she’d caught staring at her at least five times in the last few hours. There was something about Captain Martin Foster—as she’d learned his full name was—that intrigued her, something that drew her to him. It had much to do with the way he’d kissed her so unexpectedly during the capture, to be sure, but there was something else about him as well.

  “Do not worry, ladies,” Lord Ainsley blurted before the conversation could continue. “I shall protect you.”

  Lady Malvis laughed. “Really, Ainsley,” she said, shaking her head. “You have many fine qualities, but rugged masculinity is not one of them.”

  “Well, no, I suppose not,” Ainsley said with a shrug—a shrug made more comical by the gown he was wearing. “I shall negotiate our way out of this muddle.”

  “It’s more than a muddle, dearest,” Lady Malvis said, patting Lord Ainsley’s leg and sighing.

  Letty tilted her head to the side and studied the couple. They were as unalike as chalk and cheese, and yet during the entire voyage, she had never seen anything but affection between the two of them. Which struck her as bitterly unfair. A woman as witchy as Lady Malvis had no right to find marital bliss while Letty was shackled to a devil.

  The morning wore on into afternoon. They were all fed and watered again, but still given nothing to do but observe the activity of the ship. Observation, however, taught Letty a few vital things about the intelligence of Captain Foster. It didn’t take much to see that he did not approve of the actions of his second in command, Dick LaRue. But even though Dick had apparently disobeyed orders in attacking the merchant ship and in killing the men who tried to fight back, the vast majority of the pirates, including Dick, obeyed Captain Foster’s orders without hesitation. It was true that he had a commanding presence, b
ut Letty sensed there was more to it than appearances. Most of the pirates seemed to adore their captain.

  With good reason, as she discovered throughout the day. Instead of barking orders and abusing his crew, Captain Foster simply kept them busy. He did not chastise the men who returned from the merchant ship with armfuls of stolen goods. He didn’t precisely keep them away from the women either, but Letty quickly noticed that any of the pirates who cast particularly lustful glances at the captive ladies suddenly found themselves ordered to man the merchant ship as evening drew near and the two ships separated.

  “Dick is in command of The Vixen,” he announced as the evening meal was being served. It took Letty a moment to realize they’d renamed the merchant ship The Vixen when they hoisted the Jolly Roger in its rigging. “He’s been charged with the task of keeping the male prisoners quiet and staying within shouting distance as we make our way to St. John’s.”

  “But Cap’n,” one of the rougher pirates who had been salivating over the ladies all day said. “What about them lot?” He pointed to where Letty and the others sat.

  “You’ll get your turn,” Captain Foster said. “Now go, man your ship.”

  That was the end of things. The pirate crew split, a few of the merchant ship’s crew who had agreed to join the pirates mingled between the ships, the worst of the men who had threatened both Captain Foster’s order and the women were removed, and something along the lines of a sigh of relief went up from the ladies.

  Although it was somewhat short-lived.

  “You,” Captain Foster said, climbing up to the fo’c’sle and pointing straight at Letty. “Come with me.”

  The look in his eyes was unmistakably lusty. After the kiss below deck, she had no doubt what his intentions were. She rose all the same, perhaps a little too eagerly, clutching her book as she had all day, and went to him. The entire exchange raised a few worried whimpers from the other ladies as the illusion of their safety cracked. A few of the pirates approached the group, albeit hesitantly and with glances to Captain Foster, as if they were waiting for permission or denial. Captain Foster gave them neither, though, and Letty didn’t get a chance to see what happened before the captain took her across the ship and through the door into a wide, well-decorated cabin at the back of the ship.