A Pirate of her Own (15 page)

It was an image he could never forget.

Nor could he forget the terrible sadness his father had felt at her death. The years he had heard his father crying alone in his room when he thought no one could hear him. The lock of black hair his father kept concealed in his fob watch.

Even now, he could hear his father telling him that losing his wealth and titles had been nothing compared to losing his precious Beatrice. Money could be regained, but people were irreplaceable.

Morgan sighed as he realized he would never know such love. He would live out his life alone with no one to comfort him. No one to care what happened to him.

And in that moment, he made a startling discovery about himself—deep down in a part of his heart that he had long ago shut away, he wanted to know what it felt like to want to live and die for one person.

What would it be like to hear a woman whisper she loved him, whisper that she’d never want another man?

He ached for it.

And to his deepest mortification, he realized he wanted to hear it from Serenity.

“What the devil?”

“Morgan?” Barney asked, his brow raised. “What be the matter. You look as if you’re about to meet your maker.”

“It’s nothing. I just had a bad thought.” A terrible thought, really.

Why, he could barely stand being in a room with her without wanting to strangle her.

They were as ill suited as any two people could possibly be. He was a realist, she a romantic dreamer. He believed women should mind their place and she thought women should take their place wherever they wanted to.

Just imagine what she’d teach their children! Mutiny. Sheer mutiny. He’d have daughters running around wanting to be sailors and dressed in pants like hooligans.

Of course, Serenity looked awfully good in pants, his mind reminded him. She felt even better in pants.

That thought brought another painful ache to his groin, and he lowered his head to his hands and growled low in his throat.

Barney gave a raspy laugh. “You’ve got flaming britches, don’t you, boy?”

He looked up with a puzzled frown. “Flaming what?”

“Britches.” A wide smile split his face. “That little girl done gone and made you as horny as a herd of rhinoceroses.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, not wanting to hear the truth spoken aloud. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Barney gave him a knowing grin. “Sure you do. I’ve seen the way you look at her like a babe eyeing a peppermint stick. The way your gaze lingers on her, how close you stand when she’s next to you. I may be old, but I’m not blind.”

Why did he bother to deny it?

Yet he’d been doing it for so long, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I’ve just been too long without a woman,” he said, half to convince Barney and half to convince himself. “You know what that’s like. I’d be aching after anything in skirts at this point.”

By the look in his eye, he could tell Barney didn’t believe a word of it.

Aloud Barney said, “Well, Cap’n, you can always take matters into your own hands.” He gave a sideways glance down at his own pants. “If you know what I mean.”

Morgan cleared his throat. The thought had occurred to him more than once, but he knew it wouldn’t satisfy him. Not in the least. “I’d rather
she
take matters into her hands.”

Barney’s laughter rang in his ears. “Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Santa Maria. I’m sure you can find a willing woman to ease your pain.”

With that said, Barney got up and took his leave.

Morgan sat quietly, thinking over Barney’s words. There were lots of attractive women on Santa Maria. Some of whom he knew intimately. But even as he thought of them, imagined them writhing beneath him, he felt nothing.

Until he thought of Serenity.

Instantly he burned.

This was turning out to be the longest voyage of his life!

Serenity stood before the open windows, watching the dark sea swirl behind the ship. Moonlight reflected off the waves, giving them a mysterious aura of beauty. Still, she couldn’t really focus on them. Instead, her thoughts were held captive by what she’d experienced.

She didn’t know what Morgan had done to her, it was sorcery of some kind. Of that she was certain.

No wonder it was forbidden for young ladies to be alone with men. Good gracious, who would have thought such pleasure could be found?

Guilty and ashamed, she wished she had never gone topside with Morgan.

What must he think of her now? Surely no decent woman would have allowed him to take such liberty.

Yet her body tingled from the memory of his touch, and she felt heat sting her cheeks.

What was she going to do?

Avoid him!

Yes, that was all she could do. Lock herself in this cabin and make sure that she never went near him again. Then at least she wouldn’t have to face him and have him remember her wild abandon, her shameless murmurs.

Under no circumstances would she open the door. Not even if the ship caught on fire and sank!

Days passed slowly as Morgan tried his best to see Serenity again, but each time he ventured near his cabin, he was met by solid resistance.

And a locked door.

Alocked door he was beginning to despise with a vengeance.

If not seeing her wasn’t bad enough, he’d been forced to borrow clean clothes from his men, since she refused to even allow him entry long enough for that.

Only Kit and Court were allowed to see her.

“Court!” he called, spying the boy making his way across the deck with a tray of food.

The boy stopped and turned to face him. “Aye, Cap’n?”

“Are you taking that to Miss James?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Then please see to it that she receives this note.” Morgan pulled the sealed letter out of his pocket and handed it over to him.

What the hell, it was worth a try. Heaven knew, it’d worked for Jake on more than one occasion.

Besides, she couldn’t stay locked up forever.

Just what was she doing in there anyway? Making more curtains? He shuddered at the thought.

Serenity recognized the timid knock. “Is that you, Court?” she called just to verify what she already knew.

“Aye, mum.”

She opened the door and met Court’s beaming smile. She’d learned much about him these last few days, including the fact that his father was much like her own—loud, but semi-indulgent.

Cookie wasn’t the beast Morgan portrayed him to be. He was a good man who just got tired of being stuck below deck all day while everyone else got to see the daylight. It was his envy that drove him to be gruff with the others. That and the fact that he was a shy man who liked to be left alone.

But not Court. He loved people and he loved to talk as much as Serenity. She looked forward to his visits.

“How have you been?” she asked as Court came into the cabin and set her platter on the table. “Is your burn still bothering you?”

“Just fine, mum, thank you for asking. Your idea about onion juice worked just fine, it did. Why, the blister be almost gone.” He held his hand out to show her where he had accidentally touched a hot pan.

Serenity took his hand in her own and traced the spot where only a red place marked what had been a bad burn just days before. “I’m so glad Dr. Williams was right. He’s said such strange things in his column that I was never certain if they were right or wrong. I guess now we know.”

Court smiled. “Pa said it was a foolish thing you suggested, until he saw the results. He wants to know if you have any cures for his toothache. It’s been givin’ ’im a hard time to be sure. Why, he even yelled at the captain yestereve.”

Her eyes widened. That was the one person Cookie never confronted. “He did not!”

“Aye, mum, ’e did. Thought the captain would have his head, I did.”

She smiled at the image. She almost wished she’d been there to see Morgan get his pride nipped. But she had given up on that quest. At least it was nice to know someone was taking her place.

“Your father wouldn’t happen to have any small burnet on board, would he?”

Court’s brow furrowed. “Never heard of it me-self, so like as not we don’t.”

“What about chamomile?” she asked as she lifted the lid off the platter and set her food on the table. “Do you have any of that?”

“Barney takes it in his tea ever’ now and a’gin. I’m sure he might be in the mood for some sharing.”

“Oh good.” Serenity handed him the platter and lid back. “All you need do is make an oil of the flowers and place about three drops on the tooth. That should hold him until he gets to a dentist.”

“You’re a saint, mum. A blessed saint.”

She reached out and brushed the lock of hair from out of his eyes. “I’m nothing of the kind.”

His smile lost some of its luster as he looked at her. “You remind me of me own mum. Pa thinks so, too. Said she was a real lady like you, not one of those types what meets us on land wanting some money for her favors. She had genteel ways.”

Her throat tightened at the sadness that burned in his eyes. “You must miss her a lot.”

“Aye,” he answered, his voice thick.

“I miss my mother, too. She died when I was just a girl, but some days it feels like it was just yesterday.”

Court sniffed. “I suppose I’d best be going, afore we both end up in tears.”

He moved to the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot, mum. The captain sent this note for you.”

He took a piece of sealed parchment from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Oil of chamomile flowers. I’ll tell me pa,” he said before turning around and opening the door.

Serenity barely heard the last of his words as he made his way out of the cabin. Instead, her attention was on the quick, clean strokes of Morgan’s writing. It amazed her that a pirate would be literate. Especially one sold so young to the sea.

She broke the seal.

She traced the flowing letters with the tip of her finger and couldn’t suppress a smile. A poetic pirate no less. Who would have thought?

Stay away from him!
her mind warned.

She knew she should listen. Still, she saw the flowing script and felt the thrill of excitement run thick through her veins.

What was it about such a tiny note that made her breathless?

She crumpled the note and made to toss it out the open window.

Her arm drawn back, she watched the sea and faltered.

I feel like a weed in the midst of Winter. ’Tis the sunshine of your smile that will bring back the Spring of my days.

No one had ever written such to her before. Never. It was the type of note most women waited a lifetime to receive.

How could she toss it away?

And before she could stop herself, she opened her hand and did her best to straighten out the wrinkles.

After all, what would it hurt for her to keep it?

Two days went by as Morgan waited for
some sort of acknowledgment of his note.

None came.

He’d pushed her too far. No doubt the entire incident had embarrassed and shamed her. He should have never touched her—he knew that. If only he could apologize. Make some sort of restitution.

Sighing in frustration, he headed to the galley for a quick bite to eat to tide him over until dinner. Maybe a good run-in with Cookie would distract him from his guilt over Serenity.

As he approached the galley, he could hear Court speaking, then the gruff rumble of Cookie. At first he couldn’t make out the words, but as he drew nearer, something odd happened. Something that defied belief.

“Now, tell me again about this rosemary.”

Frowning, Morgan stopped just outside the door, stunned immobile. Was that Cookie’s voice?

Surely, it couldn’t be. He’d sounded almost…well…friendly.

“The doctor said that if you add a sprig to wine it’ll help with digestion and cure a headache.” Serenity’s voice was like a symphony to his ears and it brought a warm rush to his blood. “What I’ve found is that it helps your head best when steeped in boiling water.”

Cookie snorted. “Who would have ever thought?”

“Court?” Serenity asked with a tender note in her voice. “Would you please bring me the milk?”

“Aye, mum.”

Morgan walked forward, keeping himself to the shadows so that he could spy on them.

Sure enough, Serenity stood before the stove, stirring something inside a large iron kettle while Cookie leaned over the table, rolling out dough. She wore the pink and white striped dress, her hair coiled neatly around her head. There was a quiet grace to her as she tapped the spoon against the side of the pot and wiped her hands on the white apron pinned to her skirt.

A rich, sweet aroma filled the air, making his stomach rumble.

Court handed her the milk. “Would you be needing the potatoes now?”

“Yes, please.”

Her smile brought a surge of pleasure to Morgan’s chest, but still he was too stunned to know what to do. Never before had Cookie tolerated anyone other than Court in his galley. Never mind someone to actually help him
cook
in the galley.

“Now, Mr. Rodale,” Serenity said, and it took Morgan a few seconds to realize that must be Cookie’s real name. She added the potatoes and milk to the pot, moving back slightly as some of the boiling water splashed out. “You never finished telling me your story.”

Cookie chuckled as he cut biscuits out of the dough and placed them on a pan. “That’s right, where was I?”

“There was a young pirate in a tavern,” Serenity supplied for him as she returned to stirring her pot.

“Aye,” Cookie said with a laugh as he balled the dough up again and began kneading and flouring it. “A young lad of about twenty or so had just sat down and got his mug of ale when this old pirate comes hobbling up with a peg leg, a hook for his right hand, and a patch over one eye.”

He paused as he picked up the rolling pin, coated it with flour, and once more rolled the dough out across the floured table top. “This young fellow looks him up and down like a young fellow would and is impressed by what he sees. ‘How’d you lose your leg, old man?’ the boy asks. The old pirate snorts at his impertinence. ‘I got this peg leg the day me crew and I attacked the largest port in Portugal. We sailed in and fought like the devil hisself and while we was fighting, the captain of the flagship jumped onto me ship and I fought him too. But while we was fighting me foot got coiled in some rope and as I was trying to get free, he swung his sword and lopped off me leg at the knee. So I grabbed a plank from the railing, stuck it in me bloody stump, and that’s how I got me peg leg.’”

“How dreadful!” Serenity gasped, picking up spare dough from the table. She pulled off little pieces and added them to the pot. “The poor fellow.”

“But wait,” Court said, his face beaming with enthusiasm. “Pa’s just getting to the good part.”

“Mind your chores, boy,” Cookie snapped in his usual distemper. “Now, where was I?”

“The pirate had explained his peg leg,” Serenity said, stirring the dough into the pot.

“Oh, aye. Well now, the younger pirate was awed to be sure so next he asked, ‘What about the hook?’ ‘Arrrrr,’ said the old pirate, ‘the hook came when we were firing our cannons at the fort in St. Augustine. I’d just loaded a cannonball and lit the fuse when a blast jarred me ship and the cannon swung around toward our hull. Without thinking, I reached out and pulled the cannon around—saved me ship, but the cannon went off and took me hand with it. So I picked up a hook from the riggings and jammed it in me bloody stump, and that’s how I got me hook.’”

Serenity visibly cringed and made an awful face. Morgan bit his lip to keep from laughing. She made an adorable sight. One that made his mouth water even more than the delicious aroma that was coming from the pot she stirred.

Court picked up a broom and started sweeping the floor around the stove and table.

Cookie continued, “‘Incredible!’ said the young fellow. ‘So how’d you get the patch?’ ‘That was the most grisly of all, boy,’ said the pirate. ‘It was after the battle, later that very same day, while we was pillaging the port. I grabbed me a feisty woman, had a bag of gold over my shoulder, and was headin’ back to me ship when I heard a strange noise overhead. I looked up, and there was a huge seagull flying over.’”

“A seagull?” Serenity asked.

“Aye,” Cookie said with a rare smile. “The old pirate had looked up at it and it capped him right in the eye.”

She frowned. “Capped him?”

“Well, Miss James, it unloaded itself, if you know what I mean.”

By her blush, Morgan could tell she understood.

“So, the young lad looks at the old pirate and says, ‘But that doesn’t explain the patch.’ ‘Aye, matey,’ he said. ‘’Twas me first day with the hook.’”

Morgan bit his lip to stifle his laughter. However, Serenity gave a delightful, hearty laugh that filled his ears with music.

“That’s so terrible!” she gasped with a fake shudder. “Wherever did you hear such?”

Cookie began wiping the table clean. “You hear a lot of jokes from the sailors while they’re eating.” A frown settled down on his brow and it was obvious the matter bothered him for some reason.

Serenity placed a hand on Cookie’s shoulder and in spite of the ridiculousness of it, a stab of jealousy whipped through Morgan. She wasn’t supposed to comfort a man.

Come to think of it, why, she was down here against his orders!

“You should tell the captain how you feel, Mr. Rodale,” she said quietly. “Let him know that you’d like to have more help so you can go topside during the day.”

Cookie scoffed. “What, and turn them surly oafs loose in my galley without me? I shudder to think what they might do. Just my luck, they’d use gunpowder for pepper and then we’d all be in a fine fix.”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes and turned back to check on her pot.

Court stopped his sweeping, his face beaming with a smile. “I’ve got a joke, Miss James!”

Serenity tapped the spoon twice against the pot and added the lid. “All right, Mr. Court, let us hear yours.” She moved aside to allow Cookie to place the biscuits inside the oven.

Court went back to his sweeping. “There was once this brave captain whose ship was in danger of being boarded by pirates. So the good captain looked to his cabin boy and shouted, ‘Bring me my red shirt!’ The cabin boy quickly ran to his cabin and brought back the captain’s red shirt, which the captain put on posthaste. The battle raged on all day, but in the end, they were victorious and the pirates were punished.”

He paused to cuddle the broom in the crook of his arm and scratch his nose before continuing. “Two days later they spotted three ships of pirates and the captain, just as calm as ever, again called for his cabin boy to bring him his red shirt. Again the battle lasted all day and again the captain was victorious. Well, later that night, the crew was recounting their war stories about the pirates when the quartermaster asked the captain why it was he always wanted a red shirt to wear during battle. So the captain, giving the quartermaster one of those looks that only a captain can manage to give, said, ‘I wear me red shirt in case I get wounded in battle. That way no one will know that I am hurt and the rest of you will continue to fight without any worry over me. His crew was much impressed by his words.” Court stopped sweeping and nodded at her. “It’s a brave thing to be wounded and not let it show.”

Serenity nodded in agreement, her face sweet and indulgent like a proud mother’s. “Go on.”

“Well,” Court said, “About a week later, the lookout called down to the captain that there were
ten
pirate ships headed their way. Every man-jack on board quivered in his boots and they all looked to the captain for guidance. The captain stood just as proud as ever and called calmly to the cabin boy, ‘Boy, bring me…my brown pants.’”

Serenity’s eyes bulged.

Cookie bellowed in rage. “Now, what kind of joke is that to be telling a lady? I raised you better than that, boy!”

And just as Cookie reached for Court, Serenity grabbed his hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Rodale. He meant no harm.”

Court looked like he’d been struck already. “I’m sorry, Pa. I just wanted to make her laugh, too.”

Serenity gave Court a reassuring hug. “It was a fine story to tell other boys, but your father’s right. You shouldn’t tell such jokes in mixed company.”

He hung his head and the broom dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss James.”

She gave him another squeeze before she retrieved the broom and returned it to his hands. “Nothing to apologize for. You were just trying to make me happy and that is a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Mr. Rodale?”

Cookie’s eyes narrowed. “Not as fine as me tanning his backside for such.”

“Mr. Rodale,” she said with a warning note in her voice.

Something happened to Morgan as he watched her comfort Court while scolding one of the worst-tempered men he had ever known. Something scary and unfamiliar.

A tenderness came over him for her.

A strong desire to make her laugh just as they’d done. A desire to hold her close and watch her…

Watch her what?

Comfort his own children?

It was there, just a spark of an idea. Aquick flash of remembered longing so deeply buried within him that he’d forgotten its existence. But yes, long ago, before he’d made the mistake of marrying Teresa, he’d wanted children and a family. A wife who would stand by his side. Someone who would love him for himself and who would never let him go.

But his image of that bride hadn’t been a strong-minded, irritating woman who locked him out of his own room. A woman who challenged every idea he held.

He wanted to run away from these strange feelings, to find a safe haven and never again think about them. But he couldn’t. Cowardice was one crime he’d never committed, and it went against every part of him to turn tail and run.

Especially from her.

“Miss James?” he said, moving forward into the light.

She looked up and the color drained from her face. “Captain,” she said coldly.

Cookie appeared somewhat embarrassed by being caught with her. Court quickly ran from the room, his broom trailing along behind him.

Morgan watched the boy’s scampering and then turned to face Serenity. “I wish a word with you, Miss James.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said, lifting the lid on the pot and stirring the contents. “I’m in the middle of helping Mr. Rodale with—”

“Cookie won’t mind sparing you for just a few minutes.”

She slammed the lid back on the pot.

Then the most unbelievable thing happened, Cookie moved between them and directed a warning gaze to Morgan. “Seems the lady doesn’t wish to be alone with you, Captain.”

Flabbergasted, Morgan stared at the man. No one had ever in his adult life defied him, especially not a member of his own crew.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Morgan asked, his voice lethal.

“Aye, Captain. I’m protecting the girl. It ain’t proper for her to be alone with you and you well know it.”

Serenity felt the anger bleeding from Morgan. Unwilling to let her new friend be harmed, she quickly moved forward. “It’s all right, Mr. Rodale. I—I can speak with him.”

Cookie’s eyes narrowed on Morgan with dire warning burning bright. “I can trust you to mind your manners?”

Morgan stiffened and his nostrils flared.

Instead of being frightened by his captain, who had life-and-death control over him, Mr. Rodale looked at her. “If he offends you, lass, you let me know and I’ll be serving him up a purging concoction for his supper.”

She smiled at Mr. Rodale’s threat.

Until she faced Morgan, and then her smile died upon her lips. “After you, Captain.”

Her reluctance burned through Morgan as he led her back to his cabin and the privacy it offered.

Be gentle with her,
he reminded himself.
Take your time. Remember she is still embarrassed and shy. Give her time to get used to you all over.

But what he really wanted to do was strangle her for turning his crewman against him.

How did she do it? How in the world did she get near the surly cook when no one else had been able to get so much as a how-do-you-do from the man?

Confrontation will get you nowhere. You know that.

Easy, Morgan.

Moving to stand in the center of his cabin, she turned to face him.

He started to shut the door, then thought better of it.

Easy.

“How long have you been sneaking to the galley to be with Cookie?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She arched her brows incredulously. “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

He disregarded her jibe. “I thought I made it clear that you weren’t to go alone to the galley.”

“You also made it clear that I could trust you with my person, and you breached that trust. How can I trust anything you say?”

He flinched at the anger in her voice and the truth of her words. “You
can
trust me.”