A Pirate of her Own (3 page)

And breath that would shame a frightened polecat.

Sighing, she set her towel down on the desk and gazed longingly out the bay window covered with droplets of rain, toward the docks filled with people who had lived incredible lives. People who had seen incredible sights.

Oh, if she only had a tiny bit of the courage her idol Lady Mary Wortley Montagu possessed. To marry for love and travel the world, learning languages, visiting harems!

What she wouldn’t give to be swept away from her endless monotonous cycle of home and work. To find a dashing dark pirate who would come and spirit her away to far adventures the likes of which she could barely conceive.

Serenity laughed at her immorality. Her father would have an apoplexy if he even suspected she held such a notion.

“If only it could really happen…”

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she laughed. “Well, if ifs and buts were candy and nuts, then we’d all have a Merry Christmas.”

The little bell above the door chimed. Her cheeks warming at being caught in the midst of her indecent thoughts, Serenity straightened up in her chair.

“Did you forget some…” Her voice trailed off as she looked up and saw the black-garbed mountain entering her office.

The man had his head bent to shield his face from the storm. With water dripping, he swept into the office and in one graceful movement, removed his hat from his head and threw back a corner of his black cape.

By heaven!

He was certainly not her father!

Nay, this man was her dream pirate come to life. A man of unspeakable handsomeness. A man of broad, corded muscles that rippled beneath the damp cream waistcoat and white shirt.

His stock had come untied and dangled loosely about his wet shirt front, exposing a sleek neck. A sensuous neck that appealed to a part of her she’d never before met. A part of her that wanted to run her fingers over his exposed flesh to see what it felt like.

By heaven!
her mind repeated.

Hair as black as pitch was pulled back into a queue. And he possessed a face that was neither pretty nor fair, but one that was decidedly masculine.

Granite. That was the only word for his sharp, aristocratic features. Aye, they looked as if they’d been carved especially for him, and right now those features were rigidly stern, his dark eyes terrifying in their heated intensity.

Obviously unaware of his disheveled condition, he had the look of a man who had ridden hard and with a purpose.

Shaking the water from his hat, he stepped forward.

Serenity finally gathered enough wit to close her gaping mouth and swallow hard. “May I help you?” she asked, her voice trembling at the incredibly fierce sight he posed.

“Aye,” he said, his stare intensifying. “I’m looking for a Mr. S. S. James.”

The butterflies in her stomach multiplied. Whatever could
he
want with
her
?

Well, she certainly knew what she would want him to want with her. Even with her eyes wide open, she could imagine him leaning close to her, feel his breath prickling her neck as he whispered poetry in her ear…

Get a hold of yourself!

Blinking to banish the image, she forced herself to remain as calm as was possible when one confronted a come-to-life dream. “That would be me. Serenity James. How may I help you?”

Surprise flickered in the magnificent hazel depths of his eyes a moment before they hardened. Serenity had the impression that it wasn’t often something took this man by surprise. And that thought gave her an unexpected feeling of delight.

He dropped a portion of the
Savannah Dispatch
down on her desk. “Then tell me of this story you wrote.”

She glanced down at the scrap piece of paper and realized it was the past month’s edition where she had published the Sea Wolf article without her father’s approval.

Heaven above, would this piece ever cease haunting her? Her father had only stopped railing over it yesterday! Even the reserved Douglas had had a few choice things to say about it. Now this man wanted to start where they’d left off.

What was it about that one article that made every man want to strangle her?

Greatly miffed, she returned his stare evenly. “What do you wish to know of it?”

“I want to know everything you know about the Sea Wolf and his ship
Triton’s Revenge
.”

In spite of her anger, her lips curled into a smile as she recalled the romantic buccaneer who preyed solely on British ships.

“Oh, isn’t it the most incredible story you’ve ever heard?”

He arched a brow.

Though her common sense told her to stop, as usual when she talked about one of her stories, she couldn’t keep her tongue still. Especially not about this particular story of a true American hero whom she worshiped.

“The minute I heard of him and his bravery, I just couldn’t keep myself from becoming entranced. The Sea Wolf is the most courageous hero to ever roam the billowing waves. Kind, but fierce, he protects those who can’t protect themselves. And his crew! Don’t you just love the motley bunch who sail with him?”

His look turned murderous.

A sudden wave of fear crept along her spine, and she had the distinct feeling that he didn’t care for her writing one little iota.

“Why is this so important to you?” she asked.

“I think you know well enough why.”

Confused, she shook her head. Why would he assume such? “No, I can’t say that I do.”

“What do you take me for, a fool?”

“Certainly not,” she answered. Indeed, she took him for a most marvelous specimen of male physiology. He reminded her much of the hero she had dreamed of for the Sea Wolf. Aye, the Sea Wolf would have that same fiercely stubborn jaw and those dangerous eyes that flashed like burnt cinnamon.

“You talk about sources in your article. Who told you about the Sea Wolf?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “I overheard my brother talking to my father about him.”

“Your brother and father? How did they learn of the Sea Wolf?”

She bristled. “What is this? The Inquisition?”

When he spoke, he enunciated every word slowly and carefully, his voice dark with warning.
“I want his name.”

What would it hurt to humor him? If it would appease him, far be it from her to keep silent. After all, silence was not something she was good at.

“My brother heard the story from a sailor down on the docks who said that he’d seen the Sea Wolf’s ship from a distance. He said he was sure it was the same Sea Wolf who had been a blockade runner during the War of Independence.”

“I want that man’s name.”

“I don’t know his name.”

His eyes darkened in such a way that she could tell he didn’t believe her.

How dare he come into her father’s shop and interrogate her like a prisoner of war! She wasn’t about to let
anyone
intimidate her.

Just who did this man think he was?

The Sea Wolf?

“Why are you so interested in him?”

Morgan Drake took a deep breath to calm his raging temper. With as much patience as he could muster, and that wasn’t much, he placed his hat on her desk and braced his hands on either side of the paper pile that rested in the center.

Leaning forward, he gave her the glower that had driven grown men to their knees in terror. It was his fail-safe glare that always broke the spirit of whomever he was trying to intimidate.

Instead of cringing, she stiffened her spine!

Damn. He needed answers, not a ruffled hen. And damn the imbecile who had allowed a woman to write for his paper.

She leaned back in her chair as if his temper didn’t concern her in the least. As if she were well accustomed to dealing with irate men.

“I don’t see why a fictitious piece has you so angry,” she said at last. “It’s just a little story I made up.”

“Made up,” he repeated in disbelief. “You couldn’t have made it all up. Too much of it smacks of truth.”

“Truth?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Why, sir, the piece is
fictitious
. Completely and utterly.”

Why was she lying about her knowledge?

This was certainly no random fictitious piece just thrown together by a girl’s whimsy. She had included everything, from his being an orphan impressed in the British navy to his days as a privateer.

And then to talk about his exploits of freeing the American sailors who were still being victimized by the British navy…

Nay, there were far too many details of his life that she knew. This woman’s story did all but list his name and address. He couldn’t afford for her to reveal his identity. The British government would like nothing more than to lay hands on him. But right now all they had was an alias.

And he would do
whatever
he had to do to guard his secret.

Suddenly a light flashed behind her empyrean eyes and humor danced in their depths.

She stood and gave him a bright smile that lit up her entire face.
“Oh, my goodness, I know who you are.”
Laughing, she winked at him. “Douglas sent you, didn’t he? I should have known from the instant I saw you!”

Completely baffled, he straightened.

Was this some trick to throw him off guard?

Aye, distraction was a clever ruse. One he had used countless times against his opponents. Blindside your foe with inconsequential matters until he loses his focus. Then he’s yours. It was a ploy that worked almost as well as his glare.

But he wasn’t one to fall for such trickery. No one made a fool of Morgan Drake. Nor did anyone
ever
get the better of him.

“Who is Douglas?”

Moving to stand by his side, she laughed again. “As if you didn’t know,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm and giving a light squeeze.

Was she daft? Morgan opened his mouth to speak.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know it when I first saw you coming in,” she said before he had a chance to say a word.

Her smile widening even more, she walked a slow circle around him, talking all the while. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just as I described you. Why, it’s even raining outside. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Douglas had even ordered
that
.”

She lifted his hat off her desk, turned it around in her hands, then tapped the brim. “Why, you even had your hat perched precariously on your head, just as Douglas said you would.” She placed his hat on her head as a demonstration.

Morgan went cold.

So, she did know him. Somehow this little chit had learned his identity.

Once more he tried to speak.

“Why did you agree to this?” the girl asked, removing his hat.

“You couldn’t have made it all up,”
she said, dropping her voice two octaves as she attempted to mimic his earlier words. “Of course I didn’t make it all up. I did do some investigating. Even if I am a woman, I’m also a good reporter when I
do
get a real story to report. I can’t believe Douglas would have you interrogate me so. It’s probably his way of showing me why my father won’t let me go down to the docks. Imagine my trying to gain information from a man like you!” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why, my father would have my head. You can tell Douglas I got his point, but he could have made it in a much gentler fashion.”

Her smile enchanting, she brushed a piece of lint from his hat. “Oh, he’s a clever one to be sure! It’ll take some doing to top this. But I’m definitely up to the challenge.”

As she continued her babbling, a strange odor caught him by surprise. It seemed to be encircling him.

Turpentine?

Confusion dampened his temper while he glanced about for the source. It had to be turpentine, yet he couldn’t imagine where it came from.

Then he realized its source.

It was
her
.

No, his logic argued. It couldn’t be. He leaned forward a tad and took a discreet sniff as she passed once more before him.

It was definitely turpentine and she was wearing it like French perfume!

Cocking a brow, he took a second look at the strange woman who continued to talk about this man Douglas and some sort of ongoing dare they had between them.

Serenity James was an odd one, to be sure. Never before had he known a woman who would willingly walk about drenched in such a pungent-smelling concoction. Yet this one seemed completely oblivious to it.

Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a sleek, severe knot at the nape of her neck, not the alluring soft ringlets preferred by most women. And rather than wear a soft color that might complement her pale features, she wore a modest gown of solid black with only a ruffled white neckerchief to break the somber tone.

If not for the ruby and diamond brooch that clasped the neckerchief just between her breasts, he might have thought her in mourning.

“Poor Douglas, no wonder he’d protested being sent to St. Simon’s Island today to interview that poor man whose house was burned down by his angry wife. I’m sure he wanted to be here to see my face when you walked in! Oh, but I’m ever so glad he wasn’t here. No doubt, he would have laughed at me from now until kingdom come.”

As his gaze wandered over the length of her, the most amazing thing happened. He began to fancy her dressed in a blue ball gown, her hair dressed down and soft.

Aye, behind those spectacles she had eyes the color of the brightest sea. Sensuous lips that begged for kisses, and pale, creamy skin that…

Morgan blinked.

Was
he
mad?

Naw, just bloomin’ horny, Cap’n.

He tensed as Barney’s voice drifted through his mind. The thought of that old randy barnacle was enough to snap his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Miss James, I have no—”

“Please,” she said, cutting him off and linking her arm in his before leading him toward the door. “I deeply appreciate what you’re trying to do. But today really isn’t a good day for an adventure. I have piles of articles to review and my sister should be by any minute now to fetch me home where I have a party to supervise. Why don’t you thank Doug—”